In Black & White

By Catherine Lavender

Micah Winters always knew that she was different. It was the pigment of her skin and the texture of her hair that revealed that she was a woman from biracial parents. For five decades, Micah’s African American mother has remained silent about Micah’s estranged father (Sidney Irving). It is not until after Sidney Irving’s death that Micah learns that she is the daughter of the legendary novelist and screenwriter. Now with her mother’s memory fading away from Alzheimer’s disease, Micah can only rely on a novel that was written from her father years ago to understand her parents past during the time of segregation in the United States. Micah’s once simple life is not so simple anymore as she tries to make sense of an unfamiliar world as she inherits her father’s wealth and private past. With an abandoned heart, Micah must forgive the past in order to discover who she really is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9780991642021

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Author

Prologue

Micah, at a tender age of ten, knew that she was different than the other kids. It was the texture of her hair, the light color of her almond- shaped eyes, and the honey pigmentation of her skin that made her stand out from everyone else. While her younger sister Valerie and the other neighborhood kids had darker skin, Micah secretly prayed each night that her skin too would become dark.

Your sister is outside playing hopscotch with her friends, said Micah’s mother as she prepared dinner, Why don’t you go and join them?

Micah sat silently at the kitchen table mixing the corn meal while her mother chopped carrots for the soup that was simmering on the stove top.

Micah already knew that the neighborhood kids would not welcome her. Instead, they would laugh and call her names like ‘half-baked’ or ‘Graham cracker’.

Micah wanted to beg her mother to let her stay inside. If she had a choice on the matter, she would rather wash dishes than to go outside with the other kids, but instead she took out her bicycle and began to ride it on a solitary journey up and down the street.

Hey Micah, did you wash your face with bleach? Asked a tall, dark skin kid when she passed him.

Micah ignored him and continued to pedal her bike down the street. There was no use complaining to her mother. Whenever she went home crying, her mother would just say that there was nothing different about her. Everyone has a heart, a mind, and a soul. How you look doesn’t matter. How you behave does.

But why do they make fun of me? Micah would ask her mother.

Oh, Sweetheart, they are just jealous of you. Look how beautiful you are. Her mother would tell her tenderly while wiping away the heartbroken tears from her eyes.

Her mother’s words made Micah feel better, but the peace she felt was only transient. Micah knew that the kids teased her because she wasn’t the same as them. No matter, what her mother told her, being different made her feel ugly and alone.

Sometimes her father, Wade, told her to be confident and to stand up for herself. Don’t let others get the best of you, he would tell her firmly.

Micah would have taken more heart from his words if she didn’t occasionally detect a flicker of pain in his eyes when he glanced at her. He was not her biological father, but he was a good and kind man. He had given her both his name and love, but even at this young age, she could tell that his feelings for her sister Valerie were stronger. As she grew up, Micah learned to be that ‘elephant in the room’ like a forbidden secret that no one dared to discuss.

As the sun began to set across the urban skyline, Micah could hear her mother’s distinctive voice calling for her two daughters to come back inside for dinner.

Micah, Valerie. Girls, come inside and wash up. It’s time for dinner!

Micah pedaled her bicycle back to her family’s brownstone. At a distance, she could see her younger sister waving good-bye to her friends.

After Micah put her bicycle away, she went inside to wash her hands. The familiar smell of her mother’s Lima bean soup and cornbread filled the home. It was a meal that they ate often.

As Micah entered the kitchen, her family was already seated around the table. Her mother gave her a warm smile as Micah took her usual place at the table. Once seated, her family held hands as Wade led them into a word of prayer to bless the meal on the table.

Micah loved her family, but she had the distinct feeling that it could have been better under different circumstances.

Forty years later……

One

Sidney Irving knew that his time had come. At the age of eighty-four, the prospect of imminent death didn’t frighten him. In truth, death was a welcome reprieve from the loneliness that had plagued him for the past few decades.

As a well-known and respected author, Sidney achieved much success in his youthful, productive years. He was certain that people would continue to read his novels and watch movies based on his screenplays long after he was gone. He had won many awards, given interviews, and shared his work on public platforms. For a long time, his work satisfied and fulfilled him in a way that his life was not able to. But then, old age caught up. He couldn’t write as well or as quickly as he used to, and eventually, even the personal delight in finding the right word, and the perfect sentence began to elude him.

Sidney knew that like most men, he had committed a number of mistakes during his years of living. Unfortunately, many of them came back to haunt him on his death bed. Chief among them was a relentless guilt that ravaged his already worn-out body.

However, he had already done all that he could do to set things right after his death. There was nothing else that could be done. Perhaps in time, he would be forgiven. It pained him that he did not take that step forward while he still had the energy to do so. It was cowardice; he knew. Although, it was hard to make amends with the distressing fear of facing rejection and humiliation.

When he died, things would be set right – as they should have been fifty years ago.

A sudden cough escaped his lips. Years of habit brought him to cover his mouth with his hand, which was now leathery, spotted, and dry. Once, he had been a robust man, with an almost insatiable lust for life, but age had stripped him of all energy.

His nurse, a staid, matronly woman of middle-age, walked into the room. You have a visitor, Mr. Irving. It is Nathan. Should I bring him in?

Yes, let Nathan come in, he wheezed.

Nathan came to Havre de Grace seven years ago. An ex-Navy SEAL, who had been fighting his own personal demons after taking an early retirement from the military, with hopes to begin a new life, Nathan started working at the Irving Estate as a handyman. As the years went by, he slowly opened up to Sidney.

Nathan walked in. For a moment, he stood staring at Sidney. And here I thought you would be up for a round of golf, but you are still lounging in the bed.

The laughter that escaped Sidney’s lips turned to a cough. After helping Sidney sit up against the plush pillows that neatly lined the headboard of the bed, Nathan made him drink some water. You… Words seemed to escape him as he tried to catch his breath.

Sidney leaned back and rested his head against one of the pillows. Don’t worry, Nate. I’ve made my peace. My time has come.

Don’t say that. Nathan dragged the nurse’s chair closer to the bed and sat down. It’s my turn to beat you in a game of chess.

Sidney smiled. He would miss his time with Nathan. Over the years, they had formed a friendship of mutual trust and respect, and the two men bonded over games of chess and broken shingles on the roof. If he could have told someone about the entire truth of his sad, old tale, he would have chosen to share it with Nathan. Even now, he wished he could bear his soul – but it would not assuage the guilt or undo the harm he already inflicted. You’ve been a good friend, Nathan. Thank you, he whispered in a voice that was as dry as rice paper.

I’ll always be here for you, Sidney.

Promise me that if she decides to...

Sidney didn’t have to finish the thought. Nathan already knew his friend’s wishes, and he wanted to put his mind at ease. I’ll be here, Sidney. I’ll see it through. However, that’s not going to be for a long time. You still have some life left in you.

Sidney turned his head to the side to look upon his friend, ignoring the twinges of pain that had already begun to stab him in his chest. Nathan, we both know my time is short. Just promise me you’ll stick around.

This is home, Sidney, Nathan said simply. Where else am I going to go?

It would have to do. He trusted Nathan to make the right choices.

The nurse came back into the bedroom, looking a little flustered. Your lawyer is here, Mr. Irving? I told him that you already had a visitor, but he insists on seeing you and…

It’s alright. I’ll leave. Nathan put his hand on top of Sidney’s, squeezed once, and while looking down at the floor to gather his emotions, he let go. I’ll come back tomorrow.

Nathan was a good man. Perhaps tomorrow Sidney would tell him more about things that had happened all those years…no, decades ago, but now was not the time. He watched his lawyer; Kris Angles come in. A handsome man, the streaks of silver in his hair only added to the distinguished image he cultivated with care. As Nathan left the room, the two men exchanged a look as they passed each other.

Kris took the seat Nathan had vacated. I was in town for some work, and thought I would pay my respects to you, Sidney. It’s been a long time.

With great effort, Sidney suppressed a cough. Thank you for coming. For a minute, I thought there may be a problem with some paperwork.

Kris put his briefcase on the floor. No, everything is already arranged. Unless, of course, you have changed your mind as I advised…

A sharp pain seared his chest and traveled down to his belly. I haven’t, no.

Kris smiled. Then your wishes will be carried out as you’ve stated, Sidney. There will be sixty-five days before a decision has to be made. Are you sure you just don’t want to make it sixty days as per industry standard in the-

Sidney cut him off with as much force and determination he could muster in his deteriorated condition. Sixty-five days, Kris!

Okay, I’ll see that it gets done.

I know, Kris. I trust you.

Finally, a long drawn-out cough brought the nurse back in. Her severe look was enough to make Kris stand.

He picked up his briefcase. I don’t want to overtax you, my friend. I’ll come back soon.

After Kris departed, the nurse checked Sidney’s temperature. Would you like your pain medication now, Mr. Irving?

He considered the option. The round, white pill would make the pain bearable, but it would also dull his memories and cloud his brain. And today of all days, he wanted to remember each tiny detail, examine every facet of his life, and relive every experience that once made his youth exciting.

Not now, he said, knowing he would have to take it soon enough if he wanted to sleep. The deadly combination of pain and a high fever made it impossible for him to rest for long, unless he was drugged with sleeping tablets and pain medication. For now, he didn’t want anything to disrupt his trip down memory lane.

I’ll be right outside your room. Call me if you need anything.

He watched his nurse depart, with his eyes tracing her path across the dark Persian carpet that adorned his room. Twin cherry and walnut chairs flanked a wishbone chest on top of which were placed bottles of his medications, and a striped brown and white curtain hung across the window that overlooked the estate garden. At this time of the year, the flowers would be in full bloom. He longed to take a look at the delicate daisies and the elegant roses that were the crowning jewel of his flower beds. Beyond the garden was the gleaming wooden dock where his sailboat would be anchored. Maybe one day he could walk down that way again, stand at the dock, and observe the blue herons that walk upon the shore of the Chesapeake Bay.

It was a pipe dream, of course. He would never be able to do the simple things he had taken for granted only months ago. Nevertheless, the biggest regret in his life was what he had done to Micah, his daughter, who was born from an African-American woman. Micah’s mother, Loretta was a dignified woman whose only crime had been falling in love with a white man. In the sixties, such an indiscretion was not permissible. Still, perhaps, they could have gotten away with it had they kept it quiet and discreet. Even so, when she fell pregnant, they had no choice but to separate. He missed Loretta, but what he missed most was the years of fatherhood that he threw away simply because his daughter did not share his pristine white coloring.

He had not been man enough to change his circumstances – and now, fifty years later; he regretted that decision more than anything. For a while after Loretta left, his life had been wonderful; friends, experiences, and his work were enough to sustain him. However, as the years blended into decades, his work lost the excitement he had once harbored for it, his friends moved away or got busy with families, and no experience was enough to relieve him of the utter tedium of his mundane existence. Perhaps, it would have been all so much better if he had not thrown aside the chance to be a father.

He never once talked to the child whom he abandoned, never picked her up, carried her in his arms or witnessed her smile as she found joy in small things. If she had shared his life, she would have grown up in this estate, run through the massive gardens, plucked his prized flowers and stood with him at the wooden dock as they enjoyed the cool breeze that filtered in through the bay. Perhaps, she would have sat by his side while he took his last breath.

Her company might have given him the solace he so desperately sought in the efficient but impersonal concern of the nurses who attended him, and the occasional kindness of his friends who dropped in once in a while.

He cast his thoughts back to the last time he saw her. She had not known he was there, but he had tracked her whereabouts to Baltimore, the city where she lived. Three years ago, or four; he could not quite remember. Nevertheless, he would never forget the soft, black curls that framed a face that was hauntingly beautiful with its bronze skin and delicate features. Even from afar, he had seen that she had his eyes; the same shade of hazel. His mother’s eyes passed on through him to his only child.

He had never been able to forget her. It was evident that he had missed his chance to have a stab at real happiness. And he had no one to blame for it but himself. It was his dream to make amends after death. Perhaps, then, he would be able to rest in peace.

Sidney’s eyes rested on the thin rays of sunlight that sneaked in through the chink in the curtains. It was the last thing he saw before his eyes closed – forever.

Two

So, how are the rest of the plans for the wedding coming along? Bridget asked trying to break the awkward silence that filled Micah’s office. As Micah’s most tenured employee, she was often giving the responsibility of entertaining clients while Micah is running through the kitchen trying to complete the high demand of bakery orders. It was only ten months ago that Micah decided to open the bakery Crème in the historic district of Baltimore. Business was brisk and if it maintained on this level, perhaps Micah could explore the option of expanding her business at some point down the road. As a loyal employee, Bridget had hopes of maybe one day managing another location for Micah. Even so, as with all new businesses, it can as easily go the other way around. Every time Micah talked about the future of Crème, Micah reminded her employees about the folly of counting chickens too soon. The only way to ensure business remains brisk is to keep the customers satisfied. A point not lost on Bridget at this particular moment.

Despite Bridget’s valiant attempt to ease the tension in the room, it seems to have met with little success. Instead of a response, her question is met by a look of annoyance from the future bride and groom seated across from her. One would assume that Claire and Grayson, both in their early twenties, were desperately in love, and eager to make their wedding day an occasion that they could look back upon with affection and love throughout the years to come. However, their body language at this moment told a different story.

If you must know, things are going just fine, thank you, Claire offers while flipping her golden blonde hair over her shoulder. But they might be going a little better if someone were a tad more involved in the planning. She added rolling her eyes at her fiancé.

Someone tried to be involved but decided what’s the point when someone else shot down all of that someone’s ideas, Grayson replied, making Bridget immediately regret opening this can of worms.

I’m not doing the Ray Lewis squirrel dance in front of all my family and friends on the most important day of my life.

Why not? Grayson protests.

It’s unromantic. I’m not having such nonsense at my wedding!

Your wedding?

Oh don’t even start, you know what I meant!

Bridget jumps back into the conversation, with hopes to bring down the tension between the young couple. Well, I promise we’ll make the wedding cake selection…a piece of cake, she says with a smile.

Neither Claire nor Grayson appeared to be in a mood for