Chapter Seven
June 14th, 1922
Miles City, Montana
The next morning felt rather nice. There was a cool breeze rushing through the streets with slow moving clouds offering cover from the piercing sunlight from above. Rose had all the windows open that morning. Since nobody had to rush off to work or school, Rose made everyone french toast. She noticed Valentina was moving rather sluggishly that morning. After breakfast had been enjoyed and cleaned up, Rose ventured upstairs to find Valentina while Jack and Charlie migrated towards the front yard to stoop over his poor Schwinn bicycle.
Valentina's door was slightly ajar. Rose slowly leaned into the room to see Valentina at her desk with her back to the door. She was hunched over, writing slowly while holding her head in her hand. Rose observed her daughter for a moment before she knocked on the door to rouse Valentina's attention. She looked over her shoulder with her tired eyes at her mother.
"Hey, Momma," Valentina said softly before returning to scribbling in her journal. Rose came to stand behind Valentina to see she was copying a few sentences down about a war that happened in ancient Rome. Even when tired, Valentina's penmanship was not lacking. Rose tenderly lowered her hands to Valentina's shoulders.
"Hey, you," Rose said gently, "I noticed you weren't looking too hot at breakfast this morning."
"I feel fine," Valentina replied without looking up from taking her notes.
"You were gone yesterday for much longer than you said you would be," Rose pointed out.
"Melody, Oliver, and I stayed for a second jazz performance," Valentina recalled, lifting her eyes from her desk now. She looked out the window at the beautiful day, "We just felt so inspired afterwards we had to practice."
"Well, I think you're worn out," Rose told her, "You didn't say a single thing during breakfast this morning."
Valentina meerly shrugged at this. When she did, Rose's hand brushed against Valentina's neck, and her mother realized she was rather warm. Rose furrowed her brow and again pressed her hand to Valentina's neck. Then her cheeks. Then her forehead. Her forehead to Rose felt too hot for comfort. Rose went to the bathroom and returned with a glass thermometer.
"Open up, please," Rose said, giving it a good shake.
"Aw, Momma, come on," Valentina sighed, "I'm not sick. I'm just tired, like you said."
"No, ma'am," Rose shook her head, "I want you to put this in your mouth."
Valentina let out a huff and slumped her shoulders as she complied for her mother. The glass thermometer was situated beneath her tongue and she set her head in her hand again. She did have a throbbing headache behind her eyes, but she just assumed it was because she hadn't slept very well last night. She had tossed and turned for a good majority of the night, flashing between hot and cold. But Valentina was convinced she was simply exhausted. After what felt like forever, Rose finally took the thermometer from her mouth, holding it up towards the sunlight. She clucked her tongue.
"Valentina, your temperature is just over a hundred degrees!" Rose shook her head, "I knew it. You've been over exerting yourself. Change into your jammies and get into bed. I'll get you a cool rag."
"Momma, I can't just sit in bed all day!" Valentina protested, perking up in her chair, "The audition is coming up in two weeks, I need to practice. And... and this essay is due for presentation at the library by the end of the week. I don't have time to just lay in bed."
"Well, today you're going to make time," Rose told her, "Go on now. Get out of your day clothes. I'll bring you some tea and lemon with some cold water and aspirin powder. Get moving, young lady."
Valentina let out another huff as she pulled herself down from her chair and went to do as her mother asked. Rose went downstairs and was pleased she had the foresight to put the kettle on the stove top. Rose collected a tray and was pleased the tea was warm. She poured Valentina one cup of warm tea and placed two lemon wedges on the tray. She then poured her a glass of water and arranged some buttered crackers on a plate. She dipped a wash cloth into the sink of cool water. When she returned to Valentina's bedroom, she had changed into her nightgown and some stockings, but was back at her desk. Rose cleared her throat to gain her attention. Valentina drooped when she saw her mother and slowly, she climbed into bed. Rose set the tray on her night table.
"Please, baby, stay in bed," Rose said gently, running her hand along Valentina's warm cheek, "I want you to feel better and the only way you can do that is by resting. Please, Tina. I'll bring you some books. Were there any specifically that you wanted?"
Valentina sunk back into her pillows and pulled the quilt up over her legs. Rose fluffed the bedding and handed her daughter a cup of warm tea. Valentina took a sip and looked to her mother, "Can I have one of the Doctor Dolittle books?"
Rose grinned, running her hand along one of Valentina's braided plaits, "Of course, my love."
...
Just out in the front yard, several tools, nuts, and bolts, plus Jack's cane, were splayed in the grass around the two Dawson boys. Jack had showed Charlie how to remove the wheels from his bike and the Schwinn frame now lay lonesomely to the side, begging Charlie to ride it. Charlie watched as his father brought the rubber mallet down with ease, slowly working along the rim without touching the spokes. The exact opposite of how Charlie had gone about it last evening. Charlie boredly blew his bangs from his brow and lifted the other tire up in front of his face. His arm span was barely large enough to hold the tire on either side. Charlie hadn't realized how big the tires really were until his father had unscrewed them from the frame. Charlie set the tire back down and dug his elbows into his knees, pressing his head to his hands. He watched his father because there was nothing else to do. Jack glanced to his son fleetingly before lowering his eyes back to his task.
"So, your mother told me about the little tiff you had with her yesterday," Jack said.
Charlie felt every muscle in his body tense.
"Want to tell me what that was about?" Jack asked, looking to Charlie through his bangs.
"I've learned my lesson, Dad," Charlie told him.
"Oh, really?" Jack paused from whacking the bike with his mallet, "So, your mother set you straight? No more stealing? Not even thinking about it, right?"
"Nope, I won't do it again," Charlie shook his head. All he wanted was for his father to drop the subject entirely. Charlie didn't want to think about it or relive those few moments of him stuffing the stolen goods in his pockets and down his tucked in shirt. He wasn't sure he had actually learned a lesson, but rather, had learned a better system to not getting caught. His father smiled at him, however, and Charlie almost felt bad.
"Well, good," Jack said, returning to working on the bicycle wheel, "I'm glad your mother taught you something, Charlie. It was a one-time mistake. It doesn't define who you are," Jack paused again, pointing the rubber mallet at Charlie, "But if it does continue, then it will start to show people what your true character is, even if you never steal from them."
"It was stupid," Charlie agreed.
Jack was pleased by the words his son was speaking and returned to trying to fix his bicycle. The metal was slowly bending back to where it was originally intended, but they still had a lot of work cut out for them. Jack sighed and glanced towards the lonely bike frame.
"Hey," Jack said, drawing Charlie away from the grass blades he was toying with, "why don't we head on down to the bicycle shop and see what kind of cheap used tires and spokes they have for your bike. I don't think we'll ever get these back to a true circle."
Charlie's eyes lit up at the mention of the bicycle shop and he eagerly agreed, hopping to his feet and delivering his father's cane to him. He loved the bicycle shop. Deviously, he thought if he flashed his father big enough pouty eyes, he could get an entire new bicycle!
...
The afternoon for Rose was not very productive. She was constantly back and forth between her writing desk and Valentina's room. Most of time she went into Valentina's room, the girl would be up doing something. Organizing notes at her desk, suddenly feeling the need to rearrange her bookshelf, digging through a pile of sheet music, and attempting to quietly practice her trumpet. Rose was growing exasperated and almost desperate. On the eighth time Rose caught Valentina out of her bed, she immediately tucked her back in and laid beside her, cradling the warm girl's head to her chest. Gently, Rose combed her slender fingers through Valentina's tight voluminous curls that she had allowed free. Rose loved those curls, but Valentina insisted on containing it.
"Why won't you rest?" Rose asked in a whisper, still running her fingers through Valentina's hair, "You need it, Valentina, more than anybody in this entire household."
"I just don't have time for this," Valentina sighed, closing her eyes. Her head ached awfully but she so desperately wanted to refuse to give in.
"Tina, you're eleven years old. You have all the time in the world," Rose told her, "Why do you think you have to work this hard? You're already as bright and lovable as can be."
Valentina pulled away from her mother, sinking into the other half of her pillow, "Momma, not this again, please. I've told you so many times, I'm running out of ways to explain it. I don't do too much. I don't think that one bit."
"So, you like this lifestyle?" Rose asked, "You hardly have time to sit for an entire meal, you're never home anymore just to be home... I'm worried you're always running yourself at full speed. Life isn't just about getting things done and moving onto the next, Valentina. Sometimes you need to stop, observe, and appreciate. Life is all about the journey, but don't you want to remember the flowers that grew along the path you took?"
"I want this," Valentina answered simply.
Rose opened her mouth to respond but no words came out, so she slowly sealed her lips. She looked to her daughter, whose face was only a few inches away. Her honey brown eyes were tired and red rimmed. Her skin was somewhat sticky. Rose ached so horribly for her on the inside. After a few beats, Rose finally reached out and carressed Valentina's cheek, making her eyelashes flutter.
"Okay, baby," Rose whispered, nodding ratherly stiffly. She was doing everything she could to hold back her tears. Her daughter's unhealthy habits were beginning to bother her more than she anticipated, "Please, at least try to take a nap for me."
Valentina could see the shimmer in her mother's light green eyes. She knew she was hurt. Valentina pursed her lips for a moment and nodded, "Okay, Momma."
Rose leaned across the pillow and tenderly laid a kiss on Valentina's hot forehead. She stared at her a moment longer before she slowly got off the bed and left the room, closing the door behind her. Valentina stared after her for a while before she let out a long sigh and settled into bed. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself, if only for a moment, to have her mind be silent.
...
"There," Jack said, leaning against his cane, "Practically good as new."
Charlie inspected his bike with the mismatching tires he and his father had managed to salvage. The project ultimately ended up taking all day. Jack didn't mean to use the entire afternoon wrenching on Charlie's bike, but he felt the time was well spent with Charlie and he felt as if he had been able to distract Charlie from life, if only for a little while.
"They're not as nice..." Charlie shrugged sheepishly, "But it rolls, so that's what matters."
Jack grinned crookedly and pat his hand to Charlie's back, "You still got the frame. People pay a lot of money for that Schwinn badge, y'know."
"Yeah, Ethan was tellin' me last summer he was jealous," Charlie grinned deviously.
Jack almost laughed recalling his brother's family. The New Orleans Dawson's tried to visit at least once a year. Mark and Addie were still proudly raising Ashley, Ethan, and Ella in the heart of Jazzy ol' New Orleans. The riverboat gambling lifestyle always brought a wholesome spark to the Montana Dawson's household when they visited. Valentina and Charlie thought their Uncle Mark was a riot and Aunt Addie was a hoot. Jack glanced to Charlie for a moment, Maybe havin' his cousin here will help...
"Well, I'm gonna go for a ride," Charlie said, darting from his dad's side. He approached his bike and kicked the stand out, "I'll see you later- oh, and thanks, Dad."
"Whoa, whoa, you're leavin'?" Jack stepped in Charlie's path, "The sun's about to go down, Charlie. Besides, your mom is probably working on dinner and Valentina is sick, so why don't you pay her some company this evening?"
"But-"
"I'm not asking," Jack told him, "I'm telling you that you're in for the night. Put your bike away and let's go inside and wash our hands."
Charlie's shoulders drooped in his typical melodramatic way, "Alright..."
...
It was very dark. Valentina could only hear the shifting of wooden chairs, a quiet cough from what seemed like a large room. Valentina's breathing was shallow as she realized she was sitting in a creaky wooden chair. Her eyes darted back and forth as her eyes adjusted to see the outlines of many figures sitting around her in the shape of a crescent moon. A large groan resounded across the large room with vaulted ceilings and suddenly, Valentina was blinded by bright stage lights.
She squinted, holding her hand up for a moment as her eyes adjusted. She blinked rapidly and looked down at her lap to see her trumpet sitting there, gleaming in the bright lights. Valentina then realized a music stand was before her and everyone sitting around her was her orchestra. She nearly gulped audibly as the audience clapped. Valentina looked towards the conductor, recognizing it as Mr. Dewhurst, who directed the Miles City Junior Orchestra each year. Valentina looked to her left to see a trombone player beside her. When she looked to her right, it was a trumpet player. Valentina began shaking in her seat with a thundering heart as she realized she was sitting in the trumpet section's first chair position.
Valentina looked out towards the sea of an audience. Their faces were so dark, she couldn't make any of them out. Longingly, she searched for her parents, but she couldn't find them. Looking amongst the other musicians on the stage only brought her a deeper lonesomeness. Not a single face she recognized. Only Mr. Dewhurst. She had been so low in chairs, however, the man didn't even know her name or pay her much attention. She wasn't playing solos or harmonies. She was nothing but a rhythmic trumpeteer.
Mr. Dewhurst tapped his wand to his stand. Valentina's head darted towards him and that's when she realized his eyes were on her. He was looking to her expectantly, his arms lifted in his readied position. Valentina gawked at him for a moment before she lowered her eyes to the sheet music in front of her. The title was in a language she had never seen before. She blinked rapidly, trying to will her brain to translate it, but it was useless. She simply couldn't read it. Valentina decided to move on from the title to the sheet music and saw a trumpet solo started the song. Valentina wanted to faint, but she didn't. She remained upright in the chair. Mr. Dewhurst impatiently tapped his wand again, clearing his throat and arching his eyebrows at her expectantly.
Valentina let out a shaky breath and scanned over the first two measures. She nodded to herself. Her palms grew sweaty as she lifted her glinting brassy instrument and made direct eye contact with Mr. Dewhurst. He counted her off with a motion and her trumpet rang out. After the first measure had passed, however, Valentina realized she was completely out of key. No matter how hard she focused, her fingers were missing the notes and she sounded absolutely awful. She paused for a moment, her entire body wracked in shakes. Mr. Dewhurst looked furious but motioned for her to start again. Valentina gave her head shake and started again, focusing intently on the notes. But still, she played it all wrong. It was as if she couldn't read music, had never been properly trained to play a trumpet.
Boo's began ranging out throughout the auditorium and Mr. Dewhurst motioned for her to stop. His cheeks had grown red and he looked furious. Not only was the audience booing, but the musicians surrounding Valentina were, too, and some even chucked crumpled up sheet music at her. Valentina dropped her trumpet to the ground without caring if the bell got dented. She pressed her hands to her face as a sob ripped up her throat, public humiliation drowning through her body.
...
Valentina jolted upwards in bed, a sharp gasp escaping her throat. She was so sweaty, her cotton nightgown sticking uncomfortably to her. She was breathing heavily, her shoulders falling up and down. Suddenly, though, she felt the comforting calloused hands of her father, who gently eased her back down against her pillows. He had been sitting beside her, dabbing her with a cool wash cloth. Valentina saw juice and water waiting for her on the night table, along with aspirin powder and a thermometer. Her window had orange sunlight bleeding through it as the sun set. She had been asleep for hours.
"It's alright, Tina..." Jack said softly, "Let me take your temperature."
Valentina's heart was still racing wildly in her chest as she allowed her temperature to be taken. When Jack looked at it, he wasn't pleased, but he didn't say anything. He shook the thermometer out and mixed the aspirin powder into the water, handing it to her.
"Bad dream?" He asked as she accepted the water and drank it quickly.
"Daddy, can I ask you something?" Valentina looked to him with her tired eyes. She put her glass back on the night table and sunk into her pillows. She felt rather chilly suddenly and Jack pulled the quilt up to her shoulders.
"Of course, Tina," Jack grinned, resting his elbows on the bed beside her.
Valentina pursed her lips for a moment and looked at her father, whose eyes were full of adoration for her. It took her a few seconds to find her voice, "If it was 1912 again... and you were in Texas again... would you make the choice to take me with you again?"
Jack was taken aback by the question. He sat up straight at her bedside. His voice almost faltered, "Of course, Valentina," He told her, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze, "I would do it again and again again. You're so important to your mother and I."
"But... was it worth it?" Valentina asked, her vocal cords feeling pinched, "Didn't you guys get weird looks? Didn't people judge you when they saw me with you? How did you explain my presence to people?"
"We didn't owe an explaination to anyone," Jack shook his head, "When you were given to us, you became part of our family. You were our daughter and that's all people needed to know," Valentina lowered her eyes for a moment, "Why are you asking me this, Valentina? What's going on?"
"Daddy..." Tears suddenly sprung to Valentina's eyes and Jack jumped into super-dad mode. He hopped onto the side of her bed and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, "I know Momma is super worried and she's just been prodding me and prodding me to tell her things and I... I just couldn't tell her."
"Couldn't tell her what?" Jack asked.
Valentina sniffled, tears running down her flushed cheeks. Her throat throbbed uncomfortably and she struggled to keep her breath steady, "She thinks I do too much... but Daddy, I have to!"
"Says who?"
"Says me! Says society!" Valentina exclaimed, looking up at him with her wet eyes that were shimmering with hurt, "Daddy, I've studied a lot of history lately and the history of black people... well, it's awful. It's violent and full of misery and oppression and... I know all of that still exists today. I'm so scared of being singled out just because of the color of my skin. I think if I stay involved and active and keep acheiving, I can avoid the stigma. I don't want to be different, Daddy."
Jack was floored and absolutely astounded by what Valentina just told him. He and Rose had had this conversation over and over again. Their need to protect Valentina, the determined nature to give Valentina all the same opportunities any other kid could have- it had driven them as active parents for the past decade. They had talked to every police officer, firefighter, teacher, administrator, ice cream employee- they had felt comforted that Miles City and Montana as a whole seemed to be an acceptable climate to raise a socially sensitive little girl. Jack immediately encased his arms around Valentina, drawing her against him. He felt the need to comfort her in that moment. He felt so unnerved on the inside and was entirely lost on how he was going to tell Rose. Anyway he phrased it would end in her being devastated.
"Daddy, I love you," Valentina said into his chest. Jack tightened his arms around his little girl.
"I love you, too, Tina."
