Date: Mon, 9 Aug 2004 22:01:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Graschels of Guenther Street - Chapter 15

The Graschels of Guenther Street

M.C. Gordon

Pertinent information is posted at the beginning of
this series.  Comments are welcome at
quasito_cat@hotmail.com or quasito_cat@yahoo.com

Chapter Fifteen

     The dry, cold winter gradually gave way to the
rainy days of early spring.  The temperature had only
dropped to freezing twice in San Antonio.  Deet was
pleased because he wasn't overly fond of extremely
cold weather but Eric had thrived, his fair complexion
glowing with health.

     The winter weather hadn't been as kind to Katia,
who suffered from an endless cold.  Deet lost track of
the number of days he had her at the pediatrician's
office.  But his greatest concern for her health was
when she complained that her fingers felt `funny'.
Deidre recognized the problem right away.

     "I think Katia's suffering from frostbite," she
told Deet as she sat holding the girl in her lap in
front of the parlor fireplace one afternoon in early
February.

     "Frostbite?" Deet asked, one eyebrow raised in
surprise, "in south Texas?"

     "I could be wrong," Deidre admitted, "but the
`funny' feeling she has in her hands sounds exactly
like what happens when the capillaries close.
Remember, Deet, I spent most of my life in much colder
climates and I've seen it happen."

     Dr. Leland Walker, the children's pediatrician,
confirmed Deidre's diagnosis the next morning.  "It
sure is frostbite," he said after his examination.
"Did you ever spend a winter where it was really
cold?" he asked Katia.

     "We stayed with my Auntie Yvonne in Detroit for a
while," she replied.  "Uncle Wilbur was real sick and
my auntie needed help taking care of him.  But the
cancer got him and he died.  I don't `member much
`cause I was real little but it was before momma
started on drugs.  Momma told me that Uncle Wilbur's
folks didn't like Auntie Yvonne and wouldn't help her
pay the doctor bills after he died.  So she couldn't
pay the gas bill and they cut off the heat to the
house.  My cousin Lillie froze to death `cause she was
just a tiny baby."

     Dr. Walker listened patiently, his heart going
out to the little girl who had seen too much of
mankind's inhumanity in her short life.  "I'm going to
give you some medicine that's going to keep the blood
flowing in those pretty fingers of yours," he said.

     Katia almost glared at him.  "I gots to take a
lot of medicine," she said.

     Dr. Walker understood exactly what she meant.
"None of it is addictive, honey," he told her.  "We're
going to work on building up your system so you don't
have as many colds and respiratory infections next
winter.  Then you won't have to take so many pills.
But frostbite stays with you forever because it
damages tiny vessels that sort of stop working when it
gets cold.  You trust me, don't you?"

     "My daddy does so I guess I do," she replied,
"long as you don't give me shots all the time."

     Dr. Walker laughed and gave Katia a hug.  "Sugar,
I think you're probably my favorite patient," he said.

 . . .

     "Swear to God, Deidre," Deet said that evening as
they drank hot cocoa while Eric and Katia did
homework, "you could have knocked me over with a
feather.  Katia's never mentioned anything about
family and all of a sudden she blurts out to Leland
that she's got an aunt in Detroit."

     "He's her doctor.  She'll tell him all kinds of
things she won't tell you."

     "But Van didn't mention anything about family,"
Deet replied.

     "He was under the same doctor-patient privilege,"
Deidre said.  "He'll never breach her confidences with
him."

     Deet was almost sorry he had mentioned the
children's former psychiatrist.  They'd had little
contact since the Fuentes' New Year's Eve party.  Eric
and Katia thought it was their fault because they'd
hoped the two men would fall deeply in love and form a
lasting relationship.

     "Maybe we wanted it too hard," Katia told her
brother more than once.  "I done used up all my
wishes."

     "Don't let Mr. Musselman hear you say that," Eric
replied.  "You're grammar is better than that now."

     "Sorry," Katia replied.  "I get excited sometimes
and my tongue wants to talk like I used to.  But I
wished so many times for good things to happen to me
that I think God won't let me wish anything nice for
anybody else."

     "I know how you feel," Eric replied.  "Sometimes
I feel the same way."

 . . .

     The children didn't spend all their time with
school work or worrying about their dad.  They were
settling into their new lives and their brother/sister
relationship with ease.  Eric was well liked at New
Concepts Academy and Katia had become close friends
with the little girl she had watched riding her bike
on Guenther Street.

     The girl had parked her bicycle in front of the
Graschel house on one of the milder winter days and
marched boldly to the front door.  "Hi," she said when
Deidre opened the door, "I'm Gabriella Acosta.  I'd
like to make friends with the little girl who lives
here, the one who watches me ride my bike."

     Her skin was dark; her black eyes blazed with
mischief and curiosity.  She knew who she was and had
pride in herself, as only a child can be who has been
taught to hold her head high.  Her mother, Mimzanda,
was French-African, descendant of a tribe from the old
French East Africa colonies who had sought refuge in
France during one of the ethnic purges.

     Mimzanda was a gifted linguist and had worked as
an interpreter at the NATO headquarters in Brussels,
Belgium where she met a dashing young Army Lt.  After
a whirlwind courtship she married Lt. Robert Acosta, a
linguist also assigned to NATO.  Robert completed his
tour of duty at NATO, which coincided with the end of
his enlistment, and the young couple returned to
Robert's home, San Antonio.

     Robert accepted a position at the Universidad de
Mexico in San Antonio as an instructor, spending his
days teaching true Spanish as a written language and
several spoken dialects from Mexico to students who
hoped to become certified interpreters.

     Mimzanda's university credentials weren't
accepted for teaching so she turned her interests
elsewhere.  A growing percentage of the population was
African-American, and refugees of more ethnic purges
in Africa were entering the city daily.  Mimzanda
became fascinated with the concept of Kwanzaa, that
unique celebration of African heritage.  She was not
only fluent in several languages; she was also a
gifted artist.  Her mother had taught her how to make
delicate sculptures depicting her ancestors, jewelry,
and clothing.  She knew the spoken history and legends
of her people.  And she saw where she belonged in this
mini-cosmos.

     With Robert's complete support, Mimzanda leased a
vacant building in La Villita, the oldest part of San
Antonio that was not one of the Spanish missions.  She
sold her artistic work to tourists and held classes in
English for African refugees.  She held workshops for
African-Americans, giving them her personal insight
into their ancient heritage.

     When Deidre opened the door to the Graschel home
and encountered Gabriella, full of self-confidence,
she knew instinctively that Katia would have a good
friend and confidant.  Gabriella was a little over a
year older, having just turned fourteen, but she took
an instant liking to Katia and the two formed an
immediate friendship that would last the remainder of
their lives.

     Gabriella visited Katia each afternoon after
school and they talked of the thousands of little
things of interest to girls who are on the brink of
becoming young ladies.  Uncommonly gifted, and
home-schooled for that reason, Gabriella spent much of
her time without the companionship of girls her age
outside her parents' social circle and was happy to
finally find someone her own age.  She wasn't at all
curious about Katia's apparent lack of reading skills
and occasional grammatical lapses for her parents had
taught her that not everyone progressed at the same
rate.

     One week into their friendship, explaining how
she had adopted Miracle, Katia told her new friend
everything there was to tell about herself.  Gabriella
listened, amazed that Katia didn't shed a tear, and
cried in Mimzanda's arms that night.  The next
morning, a Saturday, Mimzanda held her daughter's hand
as they walked the short distance from their home to
the imposing Graschel house.

     A bleary-eyed Deet answered the knock on the
door, dressed in pajamas and a robe, his first cup of
morning coffee in his hand.  He was unshaven and
without slippers, for Benji had demolished the only
pair he had left.

     "Good morning, Gabriella," he managed in a civil
manner for Deet, without two cups of coffee in the
morning, wasn't his usual charming self.  "Katia isn't
awake yet."

     "I'm Mimzanda Acosta, Gabriella's mother," the
dignified woman holding the girl's hand said.  "She
told me last night what little Katia's been through.
I wanted to meet the man who opened his heart to that
poor child, and ask if you would approve if I
introduce her to her African heritage."

     "Please come in," Deet replied.  "Would you like
some coffee?"  He was instantly impressed by the
almost regal bearing of the woman who seemed to
electrify everything around him by the pure grace of
her presence.

     As Deet and Mimzanda sat sipping coffee in the
living room he couldn't help but admire the way she
sat, her back perfectly straight -- her ankles crossed
delicately.  She was a woman who commanded respect
without realizing it.  He had often wondered how he
could introduce Katia to her African heritage, since
he was at a total loss where it was concerned.  And
Katia had started asking questions since she formed
her friendship with Gabriella.

     He liked the little girl who came by every day
and often laughed at the direction their conversations
took.

     "I don't see why you like Justin Timberlake,"
from Gabriella.  "He always looks like he just woke
up."

     "I think Will Smith is kinda cute," Katia
replied.

     "He's old now, and married," Gabriella responded.
 "Have you seen that cute guy on the new `Stargate'
show?"

     "A couple of them are cute, but I think Rainbow
Sun Franks is the cutest," Katia said."

     "To die for," Gabriella sighed.

     "I think I'd like very much for you to introduce
Katia to her ancient heritage," Deet told Mimzanda,
"but she needs to know about her ancestry here also."

     "I'm learning more every day about the history of
Africans in this country, Mr. Graschel.  You'd be
amazed by some of the things I hear that go beyond the
issue of slavery.  What I'd like to do first is meet
Katia and then slowly introduce her to her own
ancestry.  I've amassed an amazing database of Africa.
If she has any relatives, and if they know anything at
all about their ancestors, I might be able to trace
her lineage.  Did you ever read Alex Haley's `Roots'?
It can be done.  I've no desire to in any way affect
the love she has for you and you for her.  In fact, I
hope that you will allow me to educate you also, and
maybe help to strengthen the bond you have."

     "Works for me," Deet said, and added, "Please
don't call me Mr. Graschel.  It looks like we're going
to be friends, and all my friends call me Deet."

Author's note: all of the chapters prior to this one
were written months ago.  Future work in this series
will be posted as they're finished.  I wasn't sure how
well this particular topic would be accepted by Nifty
readers and have been pleasantly surprised by the
numerous emails I've received expressing interest in
Deet, his friends, and his family.