Bev Vines-Haines
Louise Lewis was born in the wrong place at the wrong time.  She was supposed to be a boy.  Three psychics, two card readers and one County Fair fortune teller assured her mother that was a fact.  Her father, a judge already married to another woman, refused to get a divorce and marry her mother unless the child was a male.  He already had daughters, seven to be exact.  And this scandal would only be worthwhile if he came out with a son.

She was also supposed to be blonde and blue-eyed.  All of the judge’s daughters looked like that, large boned, rosy-cheeked, and strong as stable horses.  He was Norwegian and proud of it.

Her name was going to be Bakke.  Anders  Bakke.  Her paternal grandfather, sick to death of granddaughters, set up a trust fund for law school the moment he heard a son would be born.  The old man cared far less about scandal than he longed for an heir and someone to carry the family name.  In fact it was old Mr. Bakke that pushed for a marriage at all.  The judge was bored and finished with babies.

In 1972 they didn’t forecast gender like they do now.   So Louise’s mother had to take a gamble, believe the psychics and wait for the birth.  But the forked pathway of fate failed her.  The judge took one look at Louise and walked away.

A girl, red- headed and green-eyed.  Just one more dog town Lewis.


First published: February, 2014
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