Paper streamers were draped across the wall, and a big “Happy 1st Birthday” sign was taped to the living room wall. The party wasn’t scheduled to start for a few hours, and to give them time to prepare, Great-aunt Reese had taken Maceo with her to church for a morning social hour.
Ozzie’s hands sweated, and his mouth was dry. “Rita, I need to talk to you.”
A flicker of worry flashed through her eyes as he joined her on the sofa.
“I want to make an amends to you.”
Her face relaxed. “I don’t need any more apologies. You’ve been doing fine by me, baby.” She put the balloon to her lips and blew.
“It’s not that.” He took a deep breath. Ozzie had already practiced what he was going to say to his wife with Joe, but somehow the words seemed to have vanished from his mind.
Rita tied off the balloon. “Well, what is it? Are you sick?”
“When I was in Germany. I was in a relationship.” The nerves had given him a stomachache, but he pressed on. “From this union. A child was born.”
Rita sat as still as a statue. “Are you saying you have a child?”
“Her name is Katja. This past September, she turned five. I haven’t seen her since she was fifteen months old.” Ozzie looked at the floor. “Over the years, I’ve sent money each month to the last place her mother worked. But I’ve never received a single reply.”
Rita finally turned her body toward him. Her skin was ashen, and her eyes scanned his face, bewildered. “You’ve been holding this in all this time? How come you didn’t tell me this before now? Does your mama know?”
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Why? Oz.”
“Because I left her in Germany. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I was ashamed. Being an absent father made me feel like Big Otis, and I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”
Rita reeled in her seat. “Ozzie, that secret has been eating at you. Tearing you down for years. My God. A daughter?”
They sat in silence, then Rita stood and went into the kitchen. Ozzie knew from experience that it was best not to follow her. He heard pots and pans banging around in the sink. After what felt like an eternity, she walked into the living room and sat back down next to him.
“I wish you would have told me from the start. I can’t say that I truly understand your reasons for keeping something so big bottledup inside for all this time. But what’s done is done. If Maceo has a sister out there somewhere, then I will help you find her. What’s yours is mine.”
A sigh from deep in his belly escaped his lips. Rita was still by his side. Confessing his deepest secret to his wife had cracked a hole in him. A hole that he could already feel filling him with peace.
“Thank you.” He squeezed her hands.
“Look, I can’t sit here and play Little Miss Innocent. I had some relationships and situations while you were gone.”
He looked at her, but she waved her comment away.
“We won’t get into all that now. But these moments of honesty are a step in the right direction for us. I don’t know what’s happening in those meetings you go to each night, but they’re working.”
“Thanks for being okay with this,” he said.
She looked into his eyes, her expression still baffled. “I’ll talk to Sadie on Monday and see if she has any resources we can use to help find her.”
Ozzie tipped Rita’s chin toward him and kissed her. In that moment he felt lucky. He had his wife and son; Rita knew the secret of Katja and didn’t hate him because of it. On Monday, he would celebrate one year of sobriety. In two weeks, he would finally begin his first semester at Lincoln University, albeit part-time. It was a start.
CHAPTER 56West Oak Forest Academy, May 1966
SOPHIA
By the middle of May, Sophia’s sophomore year at West Oak Forest had ended, and unruly teenagers sprinted across the lawn, hugging friends, and singing the lyrics to “California Girls” by the Beach Boys while their fathers lugged trunks, suitcases, and boxes of books to their cars. Sophia stood with Willa in the roundabout, clutching the same tattered train case she had arrived with in September. Willa talked nonstop about her summer plans in New York City with her uncle and then a trip to his summer house in Sag Harbor.
“There’s the car.” Willa waved as the shiny Cadillac pulled through the roundabout. When the driver opened the door, it was Ms. Eleanor who stepped out of the backseat, in a pair of windowpane culottes and a sleeveless shirt. Her hair bounced around her shoulders.
“Mother,” Willa shrieked.
