The English Descendants

6

In 1905, Edith gives birth to another child- Eliot Carter Cushing McMichael. A lively boy, he is the spitting image of his father. Their house in Detroit is warm and welcoming and they are known as a cornerstone in their community, with doors open to all those who need a place at the dinner table. Edith turns no one away, even when they are dirty and in need of rest. She instead draws them a bath and draws from the cache of clothing donated by neighbours to give them something clean to wear, promising to wash their clothing for them to pick up the next day. She always follows through and many of these people, most often young men, come by again when they have nowhere left to turn. When they find work and their lives are more stable, they return with a new set of clothes to add to Edith's guest closet.

Charlotte and Eliot grow up thinking this is entirely normal, and until one of Charlotte's classmates ask her, when she is ten, just why it is their mother and father take in ragamuffins off the street for supper. Neither child has ever thought to ask why the Cushings are known for their hospitality to all souls, including the wayward ones. For them, it has just been the way things are in their household.

Thomas, ever watchful, sees something change in his daughter's eyes when she realizes that this is not how most people live. That most people might, if they are feeling particularly generous, give a few pennies to a beggar or bring him a bit of bread, but they will not open their homes to them. After school, she tells her seven year old brother that their family is odd.

"And that's why- nobody else has drifting labourers at their supper table every night."

"But why not?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well where else are they going to find something to eat?"

Charlotte cannot answer him, "I suppose we just have to ask."

"Let's go find Mum."

"No. Papa's not home yet. What if it's not her idea? We wouldn't get an answer. We'll ask them both at once."

This seems to satisfy Eliot, and they wait until they are all gathered for supper around the big table.

"Should we ask now, Lottie?"

"I guess."

Alan hears their whispering, "Ask what?"

"Judith said we're strange. That nobody else has homeless people to supper like we do. And El wants to know why they don't and we do."

Alan looks to Edith, "Would you like to explain this, love?"

"There was a time I knew two siblings no one had ever loved or shown much kindness to. The brother, he was a hardworking young man who wanted so badly to leave his past behind him. His sister was jealous and bitter from the wicked way their own parents had treated them, but she loved him dearly, in her way. They did terrible things to people. But in the end, it was because no one cared for them that they treated others as things to be used and thrown away. And if I can show people who no one else cares for that the world is not so bleak, then I can give them hope that the people I knew never found."

Charlotte thinks for a minute, "Why don't other people do the same thing?"

Alan steps in, "Because they're afraid it's already too late and they would be inviting desperate people into their homes who would do them harm. But we have never had such a problem. One man took some silver candlesticks, but he told us later he sold them to free his children from indentured servitude and pay off his debts. How could we blame him? He brought them here to meet us and they are a lovely family."

"But he stole from us!"

"And what harm came from the loss of candlesticks?"

"None!" Eliot chirps.

"Exactly. They're just candlesticks. We have some very nice things. Your mother and I have worked hard for them. But in the end, they're just things. People matter more than things."

Charlotte picks at her plate, "So you weren't mad?"

"Not really. Upset, yes, but not mad. He could have just asked for help. But he didn't think he could."

"And you'd have given it?"

"Or found others who could help so he had an entire community behind him. We can't be afraid to come together to help each other."

"Did anyone ever come together to help the people in Mum's story?"

Edith shakes her head, "No. No one stepped in while they were children, and no one knew how much trouble they were in as adults."

"What happened to them?"

"They died."

"Oh."

"But that's why we do what we do. Because I can't bear to think of anyone else being so unloved."

Charlotte smiles, "I understand. And I suppose it's a good thing to be the odd family if this is why."

Alan nods, proud, "That's my girl. When kindness is considered odd, wear it as a badge of honour."

Thomas, always hidden, always watching, is proud of her too. And of Alan. He is heartened that he has never once said or done anything that would make Charlotte anything less than his own child.