Chapter 12- Mr. Wayne's Decision and its Result
I told you that working in the cornfield was hard on the back and legs with the burden-straps we use. It feels worse in some regards to me on the second day. I usually stop thinking of how much my back and legs hurt by the fourth day. I am totally used to this kind of work by then.
Lunch was quick in coming, though. For a lot of the women it felt as if lunch would never come, but I'm different. I get so caught up in work hours slip past me and before I know what's happening, it's time to quit.
All of us walked back to the houses that housed the whole reservation. I saw Dad, Uncle Peter, Grandpa, and Mr. Wayne all talking. They all stopped as soon as they saw me. I pulled off the burden-strap and dumped the full basket of corn into the storage bin. I made my way slowly to Dad and hugged him tight.
"So, you ready for lunch?" Dad asked, jerking one of my dark braids.
"Am I ever not?" I evaded the question with one of my own.
"You do realize it's rude to answer a question with a question?" Dad asked with a wry grin on his face.
"Yeah, I realize that, Dad," I said, looking over at Mr. Wayne. He didn't look quite as upset as he has since I came back into his life. He actually looked defeated and resigned that I would be hugging another man, calling him "Dad" and teasing him. I never would have dreamed that Batman would feel defeated on something like this.
"Then why do you do it?" Grandpa asked, grinning.
"If I didn't Daddy would have no reason to get upset with me," I said, starting to laugh. Grandpa and Uncle Peter started to laugh as well and we all entered my grandparents' house.
"Rachel, go wash your hands," Mom said as Mrs. Wayne, Grandma, Mom, and Alfred got everything on the table.
"Yes, Mother," I said, pretending to sound like the obedient daughter as I rolled my eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes and sass your mother," Dad said automatically.
"Like you never did that," I muttered under my breath.
"Hey, I heard that!" Dad said.
"Good," I said in a light tone.
"Keep it up, Little Girl. I never switched you, but you're making it awful tempting," Dad said as I turned on the tap and washed my hands. I then eased up on the teasing. My dad takes a lot of teasing from all of us, but I learned early how far his limits go on teasing. But that didn't stop me from quoting Seneca law to him.
"Dad, you kind of can't. It's forbidden to use that kind of corporeal punishment on children here. I either change my ways or you dunk me in a stream," I said. My father made this face. All of us know Seneca law pretty well and Dad and Uncle Peter hate it when me and my cousins nail them to the wall with it.
"She got you there, Sweetheart," Mom said as we all sat down.
"You siding with her is not helping, Ellie," Dad said grumpily.
Mr. Wayne looked slightly amused as he put a piece of turkey on a plate and handed it to Mrs. Wayne. "So, you've never been spanked, Robbie?" Mr. Wayne asked me after Grandpa prayed.
"Not really. The Seneca think it's wrong to use a switch or a belt. They think freezing, cold water works better than the spanking," I said, taking a bite of potatoes.
"I take it you have been subjected to that kind of punishment, Miss Roberta?" Alfred asked in a prim and proper voice.
"Once or twice. The first time was when I was, maybe, five or six. I can't even remember. I tricked Jack into thinking a mud pie was chocolate. He ate it and Dad had to give him medicine. I had never seen Dad so angry," I said, laughing slightly.
"It's not really that funny, Rachel. Jack was really sick," Mom said.
"It was his fault that he was too stupid to see that it was mud and not chocolate. At least I know the difference," I retorted good-naturedly.
"I think his parents would have disagreed with that bit of logic. Trent even said that we'd have to figure out some way to control you or he'd spank you himself," Dad said.
"Well, after that incident I never did it again. The only other times you had to punish me was when I cheated on that test in school and when Sarah pierced my ears with a piercing gun that her aunt uses at Claire's in the mall," I said. Mr. Wayne's face looked amused and concerned at some of the mishaps he was hearing that I had done.
"Well, we didn't expect you to grow without a few mistakes along the way, but we weren't about to let you go unpunished for them either. And when you pierced your ears I only grounded you. I figured the raging ear infection you had was punishment enough," Dad said with a smirk.
"It was. I thought my ears would fall off they hurt so badly," I said, rubbing my ears.
"I like your earrings, though," Mrs. Wayne said, with a smile.
"Thank you. They belonged to my grandmother. Jane was not too happy that they came to me, but she can't argue about it. My father is the oldest and these earrings always go to the oldest male or female. Mom can't wear them and neither can Dad, so they handed them down to me as the daughter of the oldest son," I said, fingering the arrowhead earrings I wore.
"Jane didn't like it though. She said your grandmother had no right since we didn't have any children of our own and you're not even Seneca by blood," Dad said, taking another helping of food.
"I missed the part where that's my problem. Jane is messed up and Grandmother knew the traditions in the family. So you were the one to get them and then you passed them to me," I said, filling my bowl with cornmeal and beans.
"So when did you get your ears pierced, Roberta?" Mrs. Wayne asked.
"I think I was 11 or 12. Dad told me I wasn't mature enough to get my ears pierced. He said I had to wait until I was 15 before I got my ears pierced. I wasn't willing to wait and I talked my best friend into doing it at her house. If the infection and piercing gun didn't hurt so bad Dad probably would killed me," I said with a grin.
"Like I said, you punished yourself enough with the ear infection. In fact, you were so pitiful I felt bad for you as I treated your ears," Dad said, taking a drink of coffee.
"Yeah. I remember when I was eight and broke my arm. You set the bone yourself. I thought doctors weren't allowed to do that to their own families. Something like being too emotionally involved?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"I think that's surgery, Roberta. Your grandfather was a doctor and he set my arm when I broke it once," Mr. Wayne pointed out.
"How did you break it?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"I fell down a well when I was eight. Me and your mother were teasing each other and your grandfather got me out. He set the bone himself and took me in for x-rays later," Mr. Wayne said, touching my callused hand with his.
"Is that why you didn't want me outside without your permission?" I asked, remembering his overreacting to my being outside while the sun was out.
"No. I meant what I said. Just because Wayne Manor is in the country doesn't mean it's safer out there either and you could also get lost on the property," Mr. Wayne said, sounding kinder than he did two days before about the whole thing.
"I do have a good sense of direction though. Dad says I should have been adopted into the Cherokees. They have it too," I said with a wry grin.
"I didn't know that. I also have something else to discuss with you. Is there any place we can talk in private?" Mr. Wayne asked.
"I know of a place. Dad, may we be excused?" I asked, standing up. It would be an hour until all the girls and women would go back to the cornfields. Might as well hear Mr. Wayne out.
"Go ahead. All of us now anyway what he's discussing with you," Dad said with a smile.
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Reader's POV:
Bruce and Roberta walked to the waterfalls that were one the reservation property. "This is my favorite place. Me and Dad used to come here to watch the sunset when I was small and I'd come here later to read," Roberta said, sitting down on a fallen log.
Bruce sat next to her. He didn't know how to start this conversation. He hated the idea of sharing his daughter with another man, but he didn't see as if he had no choice in the matter. Roberta would never accept Bruce as her father if he continued to oppose the doctor and his wife.
"What I have to discuss with you is very important, Robbie," Bruce hesitated slightly.
"What is it, Mr. Wayne? Do you have this much of a problem talking to people when you're Batman?" Roberta asked.
"Shhh! Keep your voice down! I don't want everyone to know my secret," Bruce hissed, covering her lips with his fingers.
"Mr. Wayne, there's no one here. Very few people other than myself come here during the corn harvest," Roberta said, pulling his hand from her mouth.
"Still, better safe than sorry," Bruce said,
"You still didn't answer my question," Roberta said with a grin.
"I've been talking with Dr, Hamilton," Bruce said.
"And?" Roberta asked.
"Roberta, your mother and I have always loved you, but I think if you ever want to love us again as you once did Dr. Hamilton and his wife need to be as much a part of your life as your mother and I are," Bruce said, watching her face as he spoke.
Roberta's light-green eyes widened and lit up like a Christmas tree. "Do you mean that, Mr. Wayne?" Roberta asked in a barely audible whisper.
"Yes. I do. It wasn't their fault you were stolen. I thought if I ever got you back that things would be as they were. I should have realized that fourteen-year-olds are different from three-year-olds. So do you forgive your old dad for being stupid?" Bruce asked, gripping one of her dark braids and twirling it between his fingers.
"You aren't stupid, Mr. Wayne. I probably would have done the same thing you did. But thank you. I don't think I'm ready to give up my mom and dad," Roberta said ruefully.
"I understand. I also have a favor to ask you," Bruce said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. This hug was different. Instead of her just laying limply in his arms like she had been doing since she came back she had wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.
"What?" Roberta asked.
"You don't have to call me by my last name, Robbie," Bruce said.
"I don't know what to call you. I can't call you "Dad" because I already have someone that I call that and Mom said it's rude to call grownups by their first name," Roberta said, raising her head from his chest and looking into his eyes.
Bruce felt a brief flash of pain. He WAS this girl's father and again he wasn't. He hated the idea that his own daughter called him by his last name, but he couldn't force her to call him "Daddy" as she did before her kidnapping.
"I won't make you call me "Dad." If you ever decide that's what you want to call me then I'll accept that. If you don't I'll accept that too. But we have to think of something better than my own daughter calling me by my last name. What happens if we have fundraisers and dinners to go to? It would look odd that Bruce Wayne's daughter calls him by his last name," Bruce pointed out.
"You got any ideas?" Roberta asked.
"How about I give you permission to call me and your mother by our first names? I don't like it, but you don't really know either of us and you don't really know what to call us," Bruce said.
"I can actually do that?" Roberta asked nervously.
"Yes. You have my permission," Bruce said, gently brushing her face with his fingers.
"All right. If that's what you want, Mr… I mane, Bruce," Roberta said, correcting herself before she called him by his last name again.
"You see? That wasn't too bad, was it?" Bruce asked as they stood.
"I guess not. Are you still calling me Roberta?" Roberta asked, staying in step with Bruce as they walked back to the reservation.
"What do you think? It'll be easier for your mother and myself to call you by the name we gave you," Bruce said.
"Can't argue with that. I guess having my name be Rachel and your wife's name be Rachel would be too confusing," Roberta said, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.
"Yes it would. I don't blame them for calling you Rachel, but your mother and I will always think of you as Roberta," Bruce said, feeling his heart skip with joy over all the developments that had happened. Now, maybe, they can get their family right back on track. Bruce hadn't told Rachel or Alfred that he was hunting down Henri Ducard. He had been looking since Hamilton had said that it was Ducard who had given him Roberta. He had to make sure that Ducard was put in prison for good this time.