My Other Daughter

By Jerry Mack Grubbs

Most of my dreams linger in my mind a few moments after awakening and then they drift into oblivion. Once in a while I am impressed enough to arise, find a writing tablet and record my experience before it is lost forever.

In the wee hours of January 19, 2004 I was standing in a room that appeared to be quite sparse of furnishings. I was looking around, wondering what I was doing there when a door opened and a woman with a small child entered the room. The woman brought the child over and seated her before me on an overstuffed love seat. The little girl wore a white dress with a white sash tied around the waist. She also had a white ribbon in her hair and was wearing white shoes and socks.

The sound of the door closing brought my attention back to the woman. I looked around to discover that the woman who had entered the room with the child was gone. I hurried and opened the door but she was gone. I returned my attention to the child. She was sitting with her hands in her lap and looking up at me with the most peaceful expression on her face. She appeared to have no fear of me even though I was a stranger to her. As I approached her, she explained to me that her mother had brought her here for me to take care of. She said that her mother was going to be very busy and that I would be taking care of her now. “Why did your mother bring you to me?” I asked. “Because you are my daddy,” she answered almost in a questioning tone. Without being able to hide the shock on my face I said, “No, your mother has made a mistake.” “Who is your mother?” I asked. My statement and question fell on this child like a hammer blow to the forehead. She began to sob in such a way that it pierced my heart. I wanted to absorb all her pain and fear. I sat down beside her and took her in my arms and just held her and rocked her like an infant.

As her mournful sobs softened into a whimpering between short gasps of air I continued to hold her tight against my chest. Eventually I asked her who her mother was. Looking up at me with that same fear laced across her face she asked, “You don’t know my mommy?” “What is your mother’s name?” I asked again. She answered my question but didn’t give me the information I asked for. “Mommy said that my father didn’t want me so you would be my daddy. She told me you would be my daddy even though you aren’t my father.” “Who is your mommy?” I asked for the third time. “Mommy said to tell you that Elizabeth brought me here,” she answered. “You know Elizabeth don’t you?” she asked with hesitation in her voice. Now I was beginning to understand why her mother brought her here. “Yes I know Elizabeth very well,” I said. “Who is she?” asked the little girl. “She is the very best of all that is good in your mother,” I said. I will be your daddy and take good care of you while your mommy is away.” “Will she ever come back?” asked the child. “If your mother said that she will come back, then she will return,” I said. “I can also tell you that your mother will never forget you and she will always be thinking about you.”

“Will you give me a nickname like you gave your other children or will you call me by my real name,” she asked? “What is your name?” I asked. “Katherine Alexandra,” came her reply. “I think we should let your mother make the decision whether or not you have a nickname,” I said. “That would make me happy. Mamma said you would probably call me Kate or Alex and I was afraid I wouldn’t be brave enough to tell you I didn’t like those names.” Still holding her in my arms I said, “I hope that you never feel afraid to tell me what you are thinking and feeling. There isn’t anything you could say to me that would cause me to stop loving you.” “Will mamma stop loving me?” “No, Katherine Alexandra.” That peaceful expression came back into her countenance. Without saying another word she snuggled down into my arms once more, revealing to me that the daughter, who wasn’t mine before today, was home.