Disclaimer: I don't own the characters AJ, Samantha, and Richard Bancroft. They belong to Stephan Cannell and/or
Steven L. Sears. Addy and Dog are mine. Richard's age is taken from an earlier version of the script "Family Reunion."
Rating: PG
Episode Spoilers: "Family Reunion"
SAMANTHA
She paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the brownstone. The building looked out of place here, like an exotic plant in the midst of ordinary flowers. But there was nothing flowery about it. The building was old. A few bricks had already fallen from its facade. The doors peeled paint. Most of the windows were streaked with grime-the few that were clean were as out of place as the building itself. It was as though the building had given up on itself. It's redeeming qualities consisted of low rent combined with thick doors and walls. She sighed, and put one foot on the first step. Every night these steps seemed to grow taller, deeper, more difficult to climb. She had dismissed it as just being tired. Tired of work, tired of the life that was now hers. That had changed today, there was more here that she cared to admit.
Slowly she climbed the steps and paused at the doorway. She turned back to the street, hoping that today, today, he would return. But he'd been gone almost a year now, without a word. She hadn't contacted his family, either. Both their families had been upset when they'd married (I wonder why? she thought snidely), and there'd been little contact with either family since then.
She pulled the door open, and stepped into the hallway. Stale air wafted escaped through doorway, and she noted that another light bulb had burned out. The landlord didn't care unless enough residents complained. It had been a month since the last bulb burned out, and it still wasn't replaced.
The hallway was empty, and she trudged toward the stairwell. Climbing slowly up one flight of stairs, she paused at the landing. She shifted the purse on her shoulder, switched the small bag of groceries to her other hand, and headed down the hall to an apartment. Stopping in front of one door, she knocked softly.
The door opened, only far enough for a pair of dark eyes to look her over. Then it closed, and she heard the chain slid in its holder. The door opened wide.
Framed in the doorway, the woman was the classic stereotype of a black mammy. Her hair was a salt-and-pepper black, cropped close to her head. She wore a loose house dress, printed in bright flowers that seemed to scream in the dimness of the hallway. She wrapped the other woman in a hug, then pulled her into the apartment and closed the door.
"Honey, you look done in," the woman exclaimed.
"I'm fine, Addy," she insisted, "How's he been?"
"Good as gold, Miz Samantha," said Addy, "He been playin' by hisself, just as quiet as can be." She gestured to the small boy absorbed with a set of blocks on the rug.
Both women watched him for a moment. Then Samantha shook herself. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said, "The appointment took longer than I thought."
Addy studied her. "You look like you got no good news," she said.
Samantha didn't respond, but her shoulders sagged. She blinked back tears that she hadn't realized were there.
Addy put her arm around the other's shoulders. "C'mon, honey," she said, "You sit down and tell Addy about it." She reached in her pocket, pulled out a clean, wrinkled handkerchief, and handed it to Samantha.
The handkerchief caused Samantha's defenses to crumble. She sat on the sofa, the tears spilling down her cheeks. Addy sat beside her, rocking the younger woman in her arms, murmuring encouragement and comfort.
After a few minutes, Samantha straightened. Addy released her, watching warily. Samantha sniffed, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief.
"It's tuberculosis," Samantha said, "The doctor said I have to go to the sanatorium. If I don't, he'll call the county."
"What you gonna do wi' your baby?" exclaimed Addy, "He can't go wi' you to no sanatorium."
"I know," said Samantha. "Addy, can't you keep him for me until . . . until this is over?"
"Honey, you know I love that boy," Addy said, "But I'm just too old to be raisin' a little one like that."
Samantha heard the woman's unspoken worries. She had been hoping that Addy would say 'Yes', but she knew that a Negro woman raising a white child alone would just cause problems for Addy.
"You ain't heard nothin' from his daddy?" Addy asked delicately.
"No," said Samantha bluntly. She twisted the gold ring on her left hand, pulling it on and off the finger.
"And your family?" Addy persisted, "And his?"
Samantha smiled ruefully. "My father disowned me the instant he found out that we got married because of . . . ," she swallowed hard, "because of the baby. After all the begging I did to be allowed to go to college, he was sorely disappointed that this all happened. Then to have my husband leave me and the baby." She hesitated. "Well, he said I had made my bed and I could just lie in it. It was probably what I deserved."
Addy sputtered indignantly as Samantha continued, "AJ's family was as disappointed as mine was. But they wrote to him occasionally. I haven't heard anything from them since he left, so I don't know what he told them about us."
"I wish we could get him to my baby sister in Chicago," Addy said, "She got a boy 'bout seven-eight. She can't have no more kids, and she young enough to raise a little one like this."
Samantha smiled. She unpinned the hat that had been pushed to the back of her head, and laid it on the couch. The little boy continued to play with the blocks, oblivious to everything else.
Addy looked at the boy, then Samantha. "You got to write to his family," she said, "Mebbe they know were your husband's at. This boy's their grandbaby, and they got a responsibility for him, too."
Samantha stood up, gathering hat, purse, and grocery bag. "You're right, Addy," she said, "But I've got to go to the sanatorium tomorrow. They won't respond before then."
Addy thought on it for a minute. "Them orphanages might take him for a bit, if you explain to them what the problem is. You could tell his family what one he's at, and they could get him there." She grinned. "Might just push them to get here and get him out."
"I'll think about it," said Samantha. She reached down to the little boy. "Come, sweetheart," she said to the boy, "It's time to go home."
"Mama," said the boy, reaching arms up to her. She hugged him close, then set him on his feet, took his hand, and walked to the door.
"Mind you write that letter tonight," Addy called after them.
They climbed to the next floor, and walked to the apartment just above Addy's. Samantha unlocked the door, let herself and the child inside, then locked the door behind them and put on the chain.
"Dog!" he cried spying the stuffed animal on the sofa. He raced toward it, scooped up the animal, and hugged it tightly.
Samantha changed out of her good clothes, and put on an old house dress. She made supper for them both, then filled the small tub to bathe the boy. When that was finished, she tucked him into the crib (he's getting too big for it) with Dog beside him, and told him a story. She kissed him, and closed the curtain that served as a "wall" for his room.
She returned to the table and sat, pen in hand, staring at the blank piece of paper in front of her. Slowly, hesitantly, she put the tip of the pen on the paper.
Dear AJ, she wrote.
You will be surprised to hear from me, I know. I wouldn't write at all, but I have a favor to ask. I have been told that I have tuberculosis, and must go to the sanatorium. As you can guess, it will be impossible for me to care for Richard while I am there.
She paused, biting the pen. This was not easy to write.
The woman who has cared for Richard is not able to do so any longer. I know that it will take time for you to return to Los Angeles, so I will take Richard to Sacred Heart Orphanage to wait for your arrival. I will leave a message with the sisters there, so that they know you are coming.
The tears were starting again, regret mixed with a bit of anger. She shook them from her eyes, and continued.
I don't ask you to do this for me, but for our son.
Sincerely, Samantha
She got up and dropped the pen on the table, pushing it and the paper away. She fumbled in her pockets for a handkerchief, then gave up and dried her face on the dishtowel. Returning to the table, she pulled a clean sheet of paper toward her and began to write.
To the Sisters of Sacred Heart
I am leaving my son with you until his father can come to get him. I have been told that I must go the sanatorium and I cannot take him with me. Richard is three years old. I have written to his father, AJ Bancroft, telling him where Richard is. I have no other family who can take him in until then.
Sincerely,
Samantha Bancroft
Samantha sealed both letters into envelopes, addressing one to AJ in care of his family, and the other to the orphanage. She rose from the table, turned into the small bedroom, exchanged the house dress for a nightgown, and got into the bed. Sleep didn't come easy.
She rose early the next morning, woke and dressed Richard, and made breakfast for them both. She packed a few clothes for the boy in a cardboard train case, and put a sweater on him. She packed another small suitcase with some things for her. The letters were already in her purse. "Don't forget Dog," she said.
Richard nodded solemnly and clutched the toy to him. They held hands tightly as they walked out of the apartment. She set down the suitcases, and locked the apartment. They headed for the stairwell, and out the main door.
They walked slowly, Samantha matching her steps to Richard's. She didn't look back at the building, but kept her eyes on the boy, occasionally glancing around the area to mark their progress. They halted by a mailbox. Samantha set down the suitcases, and drew AJ's letter from her purse. She dropped it in the box, picked up the suitcases, and continued down the street.
When they drew near the orphanage, Samantha halted. Richard pressed closer, hiding his head in her skirt. She set down the suitcases, knelt by him, and removed the other letter from her purse. She pinned it to Richard's sweater, then picked him up and hugged him tightly.
She set him on the stairs by the front door, and put Dog and the train case beside him. "Daddy will come and get you," she said, "Stay there and wait."
The boy looked at her, puzzled. "Mama?" he said. Samantha felt the tears beginning again. She blinked hard, and picked up the second suitcase. She looked at Richard once more, then turned and walked quickly away.
He watched her go, clutching the dog to him. The pin poked him, and he let go of the dog in order to worry the pin free. The dog tumbled down the stairs. A passerby, intent on his thoughts, absently kicked the stuffed animal along the sidewalk.
Envelope crumpled in his hand, the boy panicked as the dog disappeared down the street. "Dog!" he called, and hurried down the steps after it.
The animal had come to rest a half a block away. He grabbed it with both hands, holding it close as the envelope fluttered to the ground. He looked around and called, "Mama?" Then he began walking to where he had last seen her.
The envelope lay on the ground. Then a light breeze caught it, sending it dancing in the opposite direction.
FINI