“Welcome to the 2020 Annual Women’s Junior League Brunch!”
Everyone clapped—everyone except Delilah.
“I want to thank you all for attending. Your commitment to charity and sisterhood has spurred over a hundred years of service to the youth and the needy in Flacon Cove. Give yourself another applause.”
The applause rose. Mother Abigail waited for the clapping to cease. She then nodded to those gathered. “Today, we have the young brightest minds of our own community and a few lovely ladies from the Araphao and Cheyenne Nation. You young women excel in arts, mathematics, science and will be the leaders of tomorrow.” Mother Abigail gestured to the girls mentored through the organization. Delilah could remember being one of them at the age of twelve. She knew what seeing a woman of color like Mother Abigail present to them inspired in impressionable children.
“These young women are the future. And they learn by our example. I, for one, intend to be a greater example. As you know, my family has had some tough times in the past year. The death of my son and the troubles that followed have divided us. Today, my daughter-in-law helped remind me of what family truly is. What we stand for. What we believe. It is never to tear each other down but to hold hands and unite against the adversary. As women, we must find the strength to tow the line and be the instruments of change in our homes and community. Falcon Cove has a rich history of doing just that. From the Mayfair’s to the Montgomery’s, our town founders built the society we have nurtured. They came together to forge unity among the black, native, and white communities. We are one. We stand as one. We will unite in front of the world as one. We will rebuild our reputation because no one knows us better than we do.” Mother Abigail gave a very gracious smile to Delilah. “Delilah, I apologize for our troubles and misunderstandings. You are my daughter. I have loved and nurtured you and your family since you were ten years old. I want to invite you to open our ceremonies today because we would not have made so much change in the past five years without you. Please join me.”
Everyone stood and started clapping. Delilah smiled in the face of applause, but she felt far from worthy. She picked up her clutch purse and joined Mother Abigail at the podium. The two women gave air kisses to each other’s cheeks and then shared the last hug they would ever share. She felt nothing. Mother Abigail’s speech was gracious, but self-serving just as it always was between them. If there had been a touch of sincerity Delilah may not have gone through with her plan. However, when she let Mother Abigail go, she looked into her eyes and saw beneath the veneer of humility, the same rage-filled spirit she’d always known.
“Goodbye, Mother Abigail,” Delilah said to her mother-in-law and to the painful existence she’s lived under her tyranny.
Mother Abigail frowned at first then dismissed the farewell. She smiled. “We’ll talk more later, sweetheart.” Mother Abigail waved to the young women watching at the front of the podium and was helped to her table by her assistant. Delilah stared out at everyone. She didn’t know the truth about Mother Abigail’s involvement with the cover-up until that moment. She couldn’t believe the depths of secrets and pain in her beautiful town. She lowered her gaze to the young women there. Some she had mentored in music. Some she had nurtured through her charity as they struggled through the conflicts young women often faced. She understood their innocence, and she remembered her own. Did her parents fail her? Did she fail Goodiva and Queen? Was all of this her fault or just part of her journey to be the woman she was today?
“Thank you, thank you,” she said, and the crowd began to settle. “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much your acceptance once meant to me.”
A few of the smiles faded from the lips as her comment landed. “I remember being ten years old and standing in line to get on a bus for our tour of Falcon Cove historical landmarks. It’s still a tradition for fourth graders to learn the history of our town. We visited this City Hall, the Cove monument, and our founders’ museum. We even went up the mountain and toured the great Mayfair Manor. Visited the mines where men, black, Native American, and white European settlers, along with some Chinese settlers, all worked together. Filling this town with the prosperity that most of you inherited and many of you never earned.”
A silence spread across the room. A few mumbles surfaced, and she could see the concern on Mother Abigail’s face by the turn of her message. “I was a child. I didn’t understand what the true history of wealth and class meant. All I wanted was to be one of you ladies,” she glanced at the women of the Women’s Junior League. “That year, when I was ten years old, I saw and learned a lot of things. And I was taught the wrong lessons. Because I believed that deceit was the way to success and happiness. I was so wrong.” She looked down at the young woman before her. “We are not perfect. We are not your heroes. It’s the reverse. You’re the special ones. Don’t ever be fooled by the glamour and presentation before you. Don’t think belonging is becoming me or Mother Abigail or these ladies in this room, parading you around like you’re their trophies. You owe us nothing. Not for the scholarship, not for the rewards. Remember that. You owe yourself and yourself only. Okay?”
The girls exchanged looks, not sure what her words meant. Delilah’s gaze lifted to the stunned audience. “My husband lied to me, abused my trust, and abandoned me in death to live with his shame. Mother Abigail gave my shame up to you and the press. Women in this room, I considered friends tongues wagged. Yes, I was inseminated with another man’s sperm. And yes, my son is not a Montgomery. He’s better than any of them. So what you think is my shame is my pride. You want to know the truth about this town and the lies. Here, let me share it.”
“Stop her!” Mother Abigail said. “Get her off the mic now!”
It was too late. Delilah had the phone number and list for everyone in attendance. She pressed the send button and sent a group message with Charles’s video. Once it was done, far sooner than her mother-in-law wished, the security team and Mother Abigail’s assistant approached. All of the women started to receive the video text. Mother Abigail shouted for her to be removed. Several ladies tried to calm the matriarch down. Delilah smiled at the young woman and nodded goodbye as the security team forcefully walked her out. But it didn’t matter. By then, it was all over.
THE SUN HAD SET. THE driver brought her to the front of her ranch, but she hadn’t notice. They sat in the car for a while before he decided to get out. Delilah had cried the entire drive home. Not from shame, but grief. She had earned her place in her social life. She worked hard to be the woman she’d become. Someone admired and envied. And in a blink of an eye, she’d burned down a world that had consumed her life since she was twelve years old. It had to be done. She wanted to be free. But mourning the loss was more painful than she anticipated. The driver opened the door. Weak with emotional distress, she relied on his helping hand to leave the car.
Awkward at first, the driver cleared his throat. The sound brought Delilah’s gaze up to meet his stare. Her heart and pride had been seriously bruised earlier. Delilah didn’t know if her actions were justified. But when she looked into her driver’s eyes, she saw them glitter with appreciation.