Chapter 11: His Old Life

Rachel did not like the idea of anyone not liking her, but she did not feel like she could confront Arthur. She decided to do the next best thing and ask his grandma.

“Beatrice, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I don’t think Arthur likes me.”

“What makes you say that, Dear? He’s always been cordial.”

“That’s just it. When you’re around, he’s cordial; when it’s just us, commuting or even going back to when we were on the plane or in the rented room, he is rude and abrupt. I’ve begun to wonder if I did something to make him angry. Has he mentioned anything to you?”

“No, Dear. There might be one thing, but it’s outside your control.”

“What? What is it? Just tell me and I’ll change it or do it, whatever it takes.”

“Well, Dear, you are American.”

“From the sound of things, so is he.”

“No. He was born here when his parents were still together.”

“But his late mother was American.”

“I do believe that is why. They had a complex relationship at the end. He took a year off of law school to live stateside and take care of her when she was diagnosed with cancer. He never agreed with the choice to leave him behind in England with his father. Even though that was my son, I tend to agree.”

“Really?”

“Truly. My son just sent him to boarding schools or military schools. Arthur did not seem to fit in anywhere. My son never spent the quality time that his ex-wife hoped he would with their son in his teen years. Frankly, I believe that he just was not up to the task of child rearing during those difficult teen years, especially not as a single father.”

“I see.”

“Also, although both his parents loved him dearly, Arthur’s biracial heritage was a challenge for his father. My son could teach him how to be British, but he could not teach him how to be Black. Arthur did not feel accepted by either community in the U.K. He always felt that things would have been better for him in the U.S.A. But this is just my theory, Dear.”

“Do you think this is why he is geared toward passing the bar in two states and not using his legal skills here?”

“Perhaps. He’d probably need to join a firm in London; Clovelly might be too small to support the services of an Oxford-educated barrister.”

“And his father? Where is he?”
“Unfortunately, he died in an auto accident the night before Arthur was supposed to graduate law school. It hit Arthur hard, I know. Maybe he feels like he had two parents that did not understand him? Maybe he feels like he never had the chance to make things right with either of them before he lost them both? I can’t say for sure, but if he seems angry at you, he may be angry because you remind him of his mom and the cultural upbringing he didn’t have.”

“Oh no...what can I do?”

“I don’t think you can do much more than you are already doing. This is something he has to work through on his own. It is his cross to bear. Try not to take it personally.”

“Okay. Noted.”

“Oh my, we’ve talked all morning and afternoon and now it is almost time for tea. Would you care to help me out in the kitchen, Dear?”

“One last thing.”

“Yes, Dear?”

“What was your son’s name?”

“I did not mention it, did I?”

“No, you didn’t and I thought it was a little odd.”

“It was Arthur as well. I did not want to confuse you. My grandson is a third. We called him Tre in the family while he was growing up, but after both of his parents passed, he wanted to be called Arthur. Your guess is as good as mine for why. Perhaps it is as a memorial of his father and those who went before him with that name.”

After tea, Rachel and Beatrice worked in the garden together, exchanging light pleasantries and enjoying the sunshine. The late afternoon rain brought them inside just in time to greet Arthur when he came home from the library to find the both of them covered in dirt.

“Hello, grandson,” she said while giving him a big hug, “Did you eat yet, Arthur?”

“Not yet, ma’am. I guess I lost track of time at the library. I opened and closed the place, Grandma.”

“That’s my boy. You’ll pass those bar exams without any trouble.”

“Oh Grandma,” he said, a little shy after the compliment.

“I am a wee bit biased, but if I can’t brag about my grandson, then...who can I brag about?”

He went over and kissed her on a dirt free spot on the cheek, ignoring Rachel.

“I’ll get cleaned up and supper will be ready in half an hour. Did you greet Rachel, Arthur?”

“No,” he said coolly.

“Hello.”

Even though she now knew the backstory to his rudeness, it did not make her feel any less slighted by him. She could not change her heritage and neither could he.

“Do you need any help, Beatrice? I can bring some salad greens in from the garden, if you want, now that the rain has stopped.”

“That would be a great idea.”

“I’m going up to my room. I can get some more studying in before it is time to eat.”

“Sounds like a plan, Arthur.”

Rachel tried to soften him up before he left. “Well, you have to take a break sometime.”

“I doubt you’d know anything about it. My entire ability to work in my profession rests on these tests. There’s more to it than just baking overpriced bread and sweets.” Then he left them both.

“See, Beatrice, nothing I say is good enough.”

She gave Rachel a hug and patted her on the back.

“Let’s make the best dinner ever, Dear. A man’s heart is through his stomach, as the saying goes.”

“If that is true, then I’ll have to cook three meals a day for 365 days straight just to get the smallest acknowledgement from Arthur.”

She wondered why she had not yet given up hope on Arthur. Maybe it was the way he made her heart race when he looked not at, but through her. Maybe it was his momentary detours from rudeness when he talked with his grandma. Rachel and Beatrice were a natural fit that felt like family; so Rachel decided that she would keep trying, in hopes of at least one tenth of the same rapport someday with Arthur.