The Prodigal Daughter

The cuckoo clock chimed seven. Douglas listened to it all the way through before getting out of bed. He glanced at his reflection in the dressing table mirror. Not too bad for an old man of seventy-five. His bearing was erect, his steely blue eyes clear and sharp and although his hair was silver verging on white, he still had plenty of it. He showered, shaved and dressed and was in the kitchen by seven thirty on the dot. He started the coffee maker and began to heat the water for his boiled egg. He set the egg timer and went to consult the wall calendar while he waited, scanning the neatly written appointments for the day. Car inspection at ten, return library books, meet Percy and James for golf and lunch at twelve. He glanced out of the window. The sky was a clear blue. No chance of cancelling the golf due to bad weather. He would have to listen to Percy tell endless stories of his glory days in the business world and James humble brag about how exhausting it was to be married to a trophy wife. As he set the table, he wondered for the umpteenth time why he bothered playing with them.

“Well, it’s better than sitting here alone looking at the wallpaper,” he said to himself as he poured his coffee. The front doorbell rang. Startled, he consulted the calendar again, but there were no visitors scheduled. Frowning, he opened the door. A thin young woman dressed in a plain grey dress, black cardigan and flat black shoes stood there. Her face was devoid of makeup and her hair was pulled back under a white kerchief. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him.

“Daddy?” she said softly. “Can we come in?”

Douglas felt his stomach lurch. The color drained from his face. Suddenly dizzy, he gripped the door handle hard to steady himself.

“Catherine?”

He had last seen his daughter five years ago. At that time her eyes were heavily made up with eyeliner and iridescent purple shadow which matched the neon green and purple highlights in her jet-black hair. He remembered her ear piercings glinting in the sun as she stormed out of the house after one of their endless arguments. Surely this drab waif could not be his willful, feisty, beautiful, vibrant daughter? He held out his arms and wordlessly pulled her close, shocked at how thin she was under the baggy dress. She clung to him a moment before pulling back and sniffling. Douglas hastily handed her one of his starched linen napkins and she wiped her face.

“Come inside. Now, who is ‘we’?”

She propelled a small, solemn boy with huge eyes into the house ahead of her. He clung to her skirt.

“This is my son Nico. Your grandson.”

Douglas felt the world tilt around him again and shook his head to clear it. Catherine glanced behind her before shutting the front door.

“Let’s go into the kitchen. I need some more coffee. Are you hungry, Nico?” said Douglas when he had righted himself.

Nico nodded. Catherine laughed nervously.

“We both are, Daddy.”

“Come on then. I’ve become a decent cook since your mother passed, if I do say so myself.”

He whipped up omelets and pancakes and watched with satisfaction as Nico wolfed down his food. Catherine ate a little and laid down her fork.

“I’m sorry to drop in on you like this. I don’t deserve your help after what I said. I shouldn’t have run away like that,” she said, picking at the buttons on her cardigan. Her hands were rough and her fingernails bitten short.

“I’m as much to blame as you,” Douglas said. “I’m just an old-fashioned army guy. As your mother used to say, I couldn’t tell the difference between my daughter and a new recruit. She warned me I’d drive you off if I didn’t stop shouting orders at you. I couldn’t get used to the purple hair and makeup and all that. I think I was just terrified of my little girl going out into a world populated by the young fools I had to try and drill into shape.”

“Mom held us together, didn’t she,” Catherine said, gazing into the distance. “You and I were two lost souls who couldn’t communicate after she died.”

Douglas sighed.

“I’ve never been the touchy-feely sort. All I knew to do was buckle down and go on.”

He cleared his throat, then jumped to his feet.

“Young Nico looks like he’s about to face-plant into his plate.”

Nico smiled drowsily, his eyelids drooping as Douglas picked him up, laid him on the couch and covered him with a blanket.

“That child’s exhausted,” said Douglas as Nico stuck his thumb in his mouth, turned over and fell asleep. He looked at his daughter. “Now, can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Catherine eyed him warily.

“You promise not to yell at me if I tell you the truth?”

Douglas grinned wryly.

“I've learned that yelling at the family doesn’t help. I’ve missed you so much, Kitty. Let’s start over.”

Catherine pulled her cardigan tightly around her and took a deep breath.

“In the beginning it was fun and freedom, sex, drugs and rock and roll...all the cliches...until it wasn’t. I got in with the wrong crowd and then met this older cool guy who said he loved me. I was so naïve that I fell for his act. Of course he was just grooming me. Then I found out I was pregnant. He had no use for that. He tried to make me have an abortion, but I ran away from him."

"Why didn't you get in touch?" said Douglas, shaking his head.

Catherine looked at him and raised her brows.

"Really? You'd practically threatened to disown me for piercing my nose. What would you have said if I'd turned up pregnant?"

Douglas looked down at his hands and twisted his wedding ring.

"You're right. Point taken."

"Anyway, I took a bus two cities over and was literally walking the streets with no idea where to go when I bumped into the Stars of Heaven Children. Have you heard of them?” Catherine said, pushing crumbs around on her plate.

A look of recognition dawned on Douglas's face.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re dressed like that. Don't the men wear those monk’s robe things? They’re always hanging around in the mall and other places handing out flyers about peace and love and that kind of twaddle?”

Catherine nodded.

“They’re led by this guru who calls himself the Master of Peace. It seemed fine at first. No drinking or drugs, vegetarian, communal living. They were sweet and kind and took care of me when Nico was born. But then it gradually became more and more weird and controlling. We were living on a farm in the middle of nowhere. It sounds wonderful until you’re doing manual work in the fields in the freezing winter weather and doing all the laundry by hand. Nico was in the nursery with the other children until he was four. Then they were expected to start working at whatever they could do. No school. That’s too worldly. This guru had his own theology, a big old mishmash of religious ideas. Basically, he was the Messiah, and we were all supposed to worship him. If you transgressed, you were locked in the basement until you repented.”

“Knowing how you love authority, I imagine you spent some time down there,” said Douglas.

“I complied because of Nico. Children suffered for the sins of the parents. Long story short, I got to know one of the other brothers and he and I plotted our escape together. That’s a tale for another day, but here I am.”

She pulled the scarf off her head and tossed it aside, looking unutterably weary.

Douglas got up and awkwardly , embraced her.

“Here you are, and you and Nico are welcome for as long as you want. Your clothes are still here, though we’ll need to fatten you up for them to fit. Have a shower and go to bed. I’ll keep an eye on Nico.”

Catherine hugged him back.

“There’s one more thing, Daddy. I may have been followed here. The Master doesn’t take kindly to members leaving.”

Douglas cracked his knuckles and grinned.

“Let them try coming between me and my family.”

After Catherine was asleep, he cancelled his appointments. He had just begun to load the dishwasher when the front doorbell rang. A man and woman were standing there, the man dressed in a long monk’s robe and the woman dressed as Catherine had been. They clasped their hands as if praying and bowed their heads as Douglas opened the door.

“Yes?”

The man looked up. A smile spread across his face but did not reach his flat brown eyes.

“Good day, brother. We are seeking our lost sister, Catherine. We believe she may be here and is in danger of being seduced by the ways of the world. May we speak to her?”

Douglas surveyed them both through narrowed eyes. He stepped forward until he was almost nose to nose with the man who hastily backed away.

“I am not your brother, and I think you have come to the wrong house. If I were you, I would get out of here as fast as you can before I call the police on you for trespassing. Now!”

He barked out the last word in his best drill sergeant voice and watched as they scurried out of sight. Smiling with satisfaction, he turned to go inside, almost colliding with Catherine. She was trembling.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

As they returned to the living room, Catherine looked around at the walls.

“Something's missing. Wait...where is the cuckoo clock? That thing used to drive you crazy. You’d have thrown it out the window, except Mom would never have forgiven you.”

Douglas avoided her gaze.

“It’s in my bedroom now. I think of her whenever it chimes. It helps, a little.”

Catherine laughed.

“So, you do have a soft side, Mr. Drill Sergeant.”

Douglas scowled at her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone. You'll ruin my image.”