Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1 City Life

Chapter 2 The Five Points

Chapter 3 Alone

Chapter 4 Orphan Train

Chapter 5 Binghamton, New York

Chapter 6 Scotty in New York City

Chapter 7 Edmund

Chapter 8 Gert

Chapter 9 Mary in Love

Chapter 10 Scotty 1869

Chapter 11 The Client List

Chapter 12 Edmund

Chapter 13 Mary

Chapter 14 Bartholomew

Chapter 15 Amnesia

Chapter 16 Edmund

Chapter 17 The Fight Circuit

Chapter 18 Meeting Sonya

Chapter 19 Scotty

Chapter 20 Pauli

Chapter 21 The Proposal

Chapter 22 Gert

Chapter 23 Edmund

Chapter 24 Mary

Chapter 25 Heaven Scents

Chapter 26 Edmund

Chapter 27 Wedding

Epilogue

About the Author

Forgetting Tabitha

The Story of an Orphan Train Rider

By Julie Dewey

Dedicated to my beautiful mother

Who never waivers in her support

Who has taught me to be a better person

Who has encouraged me to go after my dreams

Who has loved me unconditionally,

Thank you Mom!

“Happiness is not a destination, it is a way of life”

Copyright

© 2013 Julie Dewey, all rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced or uploaded to the Internet, or copied with out written permission from the author.

Thank you for respecting and supporting authors.

Prologue 1920

In my reverie now, an old lady settled in a creaking wicker rocker, amongst a bounty of lush gardens, I recall Mama’s stories about my birth and our early years both on the farm and in the city. I hear the whispers from yesterday, creeping backwards through time reminding me of who I am, where I came from, and how I came to survive my plight. Certain moments flutter by like the seeds from a dandelion blowing wishes in the wind, but others stand out and bear the weight of my shaping.

I close my eyes and remember our spread out farming days in the summertime, the gentle nuzzle of Oliver’s velvety nose as I fed him a juicy apple picked fresh from our very own tree. His soft mane and calm nature as he guided me through our pastures, always steady of foot. I ruminate over the harshness of many a winter, huddling together with Mama and Da by the fire to stay warm and sharing nettle tea to fill our trembling bellies in the lean months. But mostly I remember the spring, for that is when the daffodils and crocuses came to life, when the earth thawed and where Mama always began with my birth story.

My story begins amidst the wild meadow, I can see the landscape of budding flowers in my mind’s eye and hear the comfort of my parents’ voices by my side filling me with the memories I hold dear once more and pass down to my children now.

I was birthed just as the violet crocuses in the meadow nudged their dainty goblet shaped heads through the thawing soil announcing with them spring. It was a chilly but clear morning when my mother woke early feeling the strain of an over ripe bladder. Retracing her steps towards the outhouse she counted her paces and filled her lungs with the crisp morning air. She was not due for several weeks but the pressure on her pelvis had increased inconveniencing her by doubling her trips to the bathroom. Upon her return to the farmhouse she lit a fire and began to prepare her morning meal of oat groats. She stoked the embers and rearranged logs when she felt a syrupy substance stream down her thigh. Standing in a puddle of her own making she contemplated whether or not she emptied her bladder in its entirety. Looking down, she saw blood mixed with her waters and simultaneously felt pain pulse through her abdomen stealing her breath. She lowered herself into a crouch and alternated between cradling her immense belly and holding her ankle bones for balance. The contractions were hard and fast keeping her low to the ground.

Da had finished the milking chores and quickened his pace back to the house to ease his wife’s burden with breakfast. He entered the kitchen with a fresh pail of the sudsy drink he craved and found his wife laboring on the wooden floor. Da jumped immediately into his rehearsed role of midwife, laying fresh towels down across the bed they shared and filling a basin with warm water. He hefted my mother from her crouch to a more comfortable position on her pallet, climbing in behind her massive naked body, massaging her cramping back and belly.

Maura had not birthed before and without the advice of a midwife she followed her instinct. My da having witnessed many animal births helped prepare my mother by massaging oils around her perineal tissue hoping she wouldn’t tear. When she felt the pressure was at its greatest and begged to push, Da rearranged himself in front of my mother’s belly in between her legs, and together with four loving hands entwined they brought me gently into the world.

“A girl!” Da exclaimed out of breath, worry etching itself across his brow in deep furrows.

The seconds ticked by and I had not yet mustered a cry. My airways were clogged with birthing matter and mucus and my skin was turning grey. Da resuscitated me by putting his largemouth across my small nose and mouth and sucking deeply. Suck-spit-repeat, he did this several times to no avail, when finally he held me upside-down and whacked my back. On cue I wailed, no longer safe in the warm confines of my mother’s womb.

The year was 1850 and I was blessed and named Tabitha Colleen Salt. Tabitha was my name alone but Colleen was a tribute to my paternal grandmother whose blessing and purse made it possible for us to be on American land farming our small plot of acreage in West Chester, New York. Salt, our sir name, was assumed and passed down by our great great grandfather who worked in the salt mine in Northern Ireland near Carrickfergus. The story goes that great great grandfather Salt lived to a ripe age of one hundred and seven; his longevity, he claimed, was due to the healing properties of the mineral.

Chapter 1 City Life 1860

My head was itchy, particularly on the base of my skull behind both ears, and my fingernails had dried blood under them from the scabs I scratched open sometime in the night. Mama was clawing at her skin too, not just on her head but also on her woman parts. One time I saw her woman parts when she climbed out from our wash basin and reached for a towel. I didn’t mean to look but I was curious and surprised to see a little puff full of hair there too. Now she was itching that place a lot.

The school teacher called it “lice.”

“Tabitha Salt,” Miss Marianne pulled me gently aside one day, “you may not be present in school until your head lice are gone, they are not only contagious but disrupting the other students when you itch so much. You can hardly sit still.” When I told my mama I was cast out from the classroom she cried softly into her open hands before pulling me in for a hug.

“Well, okay then, we will get rid of it at once and get you back into school,” she said with a conquering nod of her head and faraway gleam in her eyes. If there was one thing my mama was determined about it was my education. She and my da didn’t risk their lives on board the Emma Prescott in 1847 only to die from starvation or stupidity once on solid ground. Together they sailed from their beloved Galway towards religious freedom and a brighter future in America where they believed education was the key for a better life.

The lice came in on one of the shirts we laundered, which was not unusual given our clientele included manky sailors and dock hands. The critters attached to our hair and got into our bed sheets. The scavengers bit us something fierce feasting on our dry scaly skin before laying eggs. The nits were barely visible so you couldn’t snatch them up or swat at them like a fly. We had to cut our hair and wash with lye soap, and scald our clothes and sheets. Our mattresses were stuffed with straw, horsehair and old rags to even the lumps, but now they would have to be burned and we would sleep on the floor until we could buy or make new ones. The thought of fresh plumped straw mattresses was pleasing; my back was getting sore from these old ones. Plus they smelled rank, but my mama said we had to make do and that’s what we did.

We walked hand in hand to the barbershop on Bowery Street that offered shoe shines and dental work as well as haircuts and shaves, and asked how much to cut my hair. The barber was settling a customer into a reclining red leather chair, draping him with cloth and lathering his cheeks, chin and neck with white fluffy foam for a shave. Without looking up he said very curtly that he didn’t do girls hair and sent us to a salon house down the street.

“We’ll we certainly don’t need up do’s, do we? If the barber can’t help us we will tend to it ourselves.” We left the barber shop and when we got home my mama used her sewing scissors on my curls instead. The shear’s ends weren’t sharp so it hurt badly, I cried when I saw my red curly tendrils of hair drop to the floor. All my pretty curls were lying around my feet and soon after all my mama’s pretty curls were laying around my feet too. We sobbed and then laughed when we swooshed our heads back and forth; they felt so light and airy. But we had to cut them closer to the scalp where the eggs were laid. We went back to the barber and asked if he would shave us now and after he dipped his razor into some bluish liquid he did, for a nickel.

We each wore red handkerchiefs over our heads to cover our baldness, but I never thought my mama, Maura Salt, looked so pretty. Her blue eyes sparkled with flecks of gold and her freckled cheeks looked fuller, her right cheek looked rosier too.

She had a toothache she said, but when I looked at it from underneath I didn’t see a hole or black spot among the grooves that would indicate a cavity. She could only eat tepid foods because anything cold or hot caused discomfort; she chewed on her left side and after a few days became sluggish and bedridden. After several more days of the pain rendering my mama immobile, she gave in and sent for a dentist. She could have had the barber look at it, but she preferred someone with only one specialty. The dentist told her the tooth would need to be pulled immediately, and it would cost two dollars.

“Tabitha, open my top dresser drawer, behind the stockings that need mending you will find a pouch. Count out two dollars in change, then bring the coins to me please.” After I counted the money, I replaced the pouch and noted the light weight of it now, making me feel uneasy.

Two burly men accompanied the dentist filling up all the space in the undersized two room dwelling we rented from our land lady, Mrs. Canter. They offered my mama a three finger full shot of Jim Beam whiskey that she threw down her throat quickly so they could get on with it. They offered one to me too so I would sleep through the bellowing but I said, “No thank you, I am much too young for whiskey and I wish to help my mother.” So I held my mama’s clammy hands tight and the big man with the black suspenders and greying white shirt that desperately needed laundering held her shoulders back and down. The smaller mustached man sat across her legs. The dentist put a large metal tooth puller that resembled a key into her delicate mouth, counted to three and twisted the instrument clockwise before pulling with all his might at the tooth. The tooth cracked in several places, blood poured down my mama’s chin, and the dentist wiped at the sweat running into his eyes and said he would have to charge more to get all the splinters out. By the looks of his grimace, he didn’t like causing his patient pain any more than she liked receiving it. Tears flowed from her eyes and I kissed her hands and squeezed them tight to give her courage.

“It will be all right soon,” I said. Mama, frozen with fear, nodded at my encouragement and mustered the strength to withstand the increasing pangs in her mouth.

“Sir, maybe you ought to have a shot of that whiskey,” I said to him without cynicism.

He chuckled at me as if I were a comedian and wiped his sweaty brow again before looking deeper into his patient’s mouth.

Mama was near passed out from the combination of agony and whiskey so I ran into the kitchen where Mrs. Canter was baking bread and staying close in case we needed her. I asked what I should do and she lent me a dollar bill for the extra fee. She wiped her hands and walked into our quarters with me, nearly fainting from the sight and metallic smell of the blood filling one of the two rooms we now inhabited in her apartment. The dentist gave my mama another three finger full shot of whiskey and wedged a piece of sanded wood wrapped in thick cotton in her mouth to help it stay open allowing him to work better. One of the strong men held a lantern closer so the dentist could discern the problem. Mrs. Canter filled our basin with warm water and held the fraying rag to her chest in preparation for cleaning up; all the while she was losing her color and swaying. The gore didn’t bother me but I thought my mama was dead because she wasn’t talking and her eyeballs were rolled backwards into her head so I started to cry hysterically.

“She’s just passed out from the pain, now she won’t feel a thing,” the dentist told me.

“What’s your name, little girl?” the man with the filthy shirt asked me.

“Tabitha, sir, what’s yours?” I asked, wondering what kind of name belonged to this huge man.

“I’m Big Joe, now look here at my teeth.” The burly man opened his mouth and showed me the three empty holes where his teeth had gone missing. “The good dentist took these teeth and I’m fine, just like your mama’s gonna be.”

I didn’t feel much better since his gums were swollen and mouth horribly smelling. But I knew my mama would brush and at least she’d wake up after she slept off the booze.

The dentist used long metal tweezers with razor sharp tips, his newest tool, and poked at my mama’s mouth until he said all the splinters of teeth were gone. He was befuddled because the tooth he pulled had three roots holding it in place, which was rather unusual. He said she would be swollen in the morning and probably for the next several days, but that she could drink and eat soft food when she felt up to it. He gave me a dozen whole cloves wrapped in a ramie cloth that she could put inside her cheek when she woke, it would help dull the pain. I thanked him for the cloves and fondled the ramie cloth that held them.

After that episode, he put the bottle of whiskey to his lips and took a long swig.

“She made me work for my money, Tabitha, you take care of her now.” He patted my back and left with all the big men.

“Tabitha, quickly, gather an armful of rags from beneath the kitchen sink, we‘re going to need more to get your mama good and cleaned up,” Mrs. Canter said.

I did as instructed, rummaging through the stacks of folded towels and shreds of cloth, thankful to have the help of this woman. Together we wiped the dried caked blood from the corners of my mama’s mouth, and the drips that ran all the way down her neck getting trapped in the folds of her skin before drenching her shirt collar.

“Help me turn her over, she’ll sleep better that way.” Mrs. Canter ordered once the bathing was complete, so we laid her on her left side, propping her with pillows and I covered her with our patchwork quilt, tucking her in like a cocoon. Mrs. Canter went across the hall with the dirty rags and returned with clean strips of material for the morning and two warm oatmeal cookies.

“Now get some sleep dear, your mama will be needing you in the morning.” She ran her hands across my fuzzy head and left me to tend to her own brood.

Sure enough my mama woke up in agony, hollering in pain and swishing her tongue into the hole where the tooth used to be. She looked all crooked because one side of her face was swollen like a chipmunk and her eye was black and blue, which nagged at me since it was her mouth that had work done. I put a nice warm cloth on her cheek and she said it helped, but when she stood up she held tight to her stomach and swooned.

“Lie back down, Mama, I will do the day’s laundry.” I was more than confident in my abilities to work.

I had been my mama’s laundry helper for one year now and even though I was only ten years old, she said I did as good a job as she did at getting out wrinkles and spots. I set to work on the white collared shirts first and paid extra attention to scrubbing at the stains and underarm pit spots. We used lemon or vinegar on most stains, not too much though or the acid would wear through the fabric. After I laundered the shirts I had to let them air dry. In between washing I ironed. I was careful not to let the iron get too hot or else it would leave a burn mark on the cotton fabric and then we would have to buy a new shirt; we learned this the hard way.

“I took care of everything, Mama, look,” I said as I held up a several stacks of neatly laundered, and folded shirts and trousers. I took my time especially in the folding so I didn’t leave any creases in the wrong spot.

“Be a dear and ask Mrs. Canter to be sure they are delivered.” Mama held cloves to her cheek, and drifted in and out of sleep all day while I worked.

Mrs. Canter rewarded me with a shiny penny for my hard work and I took it right down to the penny candy store on Orange Street and bought a sack worth of butterscotch balls that my mama could suck while her mouth was sore.

“Here, Mama, your favorite butterscotch balls!” I unwrapped the sweet indulgence upon my return and she popped one in her mouth, careful to savor the salty flavor of it on her good side only.

“I am so proud of you, Tabitha. If we stick together we will be just fine won’t we?” Mama asked. We may have managed to fail the farm but so far we had done well in New York.

Chapter 2 The Five Points

City life was crowded, costly, and challenging and we didn’t have a Da to help us manage anymore. We moved from the country to the city when he died a year ago and settled into the first affordable place with a vacancy. We lived in one of a dozen identical, five story, red brick buildings on Cross Street in the notorious Five Points. Unfortunately, the vacant room was in a building with mostly German immigrants, not Irish, as we had hoped in order to reacquaint ourselves with kin.

I could see Paradise Place outside my window and often sat for hours watching the spectacle below. Women wearing colorful bonnets waltzed through town carrying baskets in the crook of their arms full to the brim with ripe fruit, meats and cheeses, wine and bread. They hustled their children towards the Used Clothing Shop to sell their old clothes or purchase new ones. After shopping they lunched at the Chinks Oyster Shack or The Yard House Tavern for the mid-days meal. With full bellies they picked up articles of clothing taken in, let out or hemmed from the Tailor and finally ducked into the Barber Shop with its twirling red and blue striped pole out front for a quick snip or shoe shin for their boys.

Other individuals, mostly men but not always, drowned their sorrows at the corner tavern next to the Brewery building where drinks could be purchased with ears and noses as long as they were won in a fight from an opposing gang. Mama told me the remains were placed in glass canisters lining the bar for all the patrons to admire and try to recognize.

Immigrants and others in destitute circumstances made stops to the Money Lender Shop, always leaving with their heads down. Mama and Mrs. Canter agreed, taking a loan in this city was a last resort with high interest rates making it impossible to pay back the lender. The lack of reimbursements caused a great need for henchmen who sought those who didn’t pay, taking ears, noses, fingers, and toes as retribution. We didn’t want to lose any of those so we paid for everything with cash on the barrel.

Brothels, missions, and theaters all lined Anthony Street providing various forms of entertainment at one establishment; food and redemption for those who lost themselves in the other. Occasionally my mama and Mrs. Canter would take in a show when all of us children were at school or otherwise entertained.

“But why can’t we go, Mama?” I pleaded one day.

“Because there are unsightly businesses along the way and you are far too young to have your eyes ruined.” I always wondered what she meant by that; years later I learned.

Priests, Pastors, Ministers, Reverends, and Rabbis led their congregations to worship in Paradise Park while their various cathedrals, temples, and churches were under construction. Anyone seeking solace at the end of the week could find a place to bow their heads. Children donned their Sunday best that for the boys included button down shirts, trousers held up with suspenders, top coats, and occasionally caps. Gentlemen dressed similarly, but on Sunday they appeared more dapper adding low cut plaid vests displaying fine starched dress shirts, colorful cravats, and long knee length topcoats. On Sundays the men wore their best top hats, often reaching an impressive twelve inches in height. Little girls and young ladies wore a wide array of bonnets and dresses, some with hoops and lace shawls and others in coats and muffs when the weather warranted.

New York was a city of clans; thousands of immigrants in different colors, shapes, and sizes came fresh off famine ships and streamed into our streets daily. Adding to our chaos the immigrants spoke different languages, looking as confused by us as we were by them. If luck was by their side, they were greeted at the harbor by distant family members who previously survived the crossing of the shifty waters and had settled into life in New York. Others who weren’t so lucky were left to their own devices, struggling to find work and shelter and make sense of this cauldron. Looking back now I recall that sometimes Sisters from the Mission met boats with warm bowls of soup and cups of tea; when money allowed they gave out clothing and held free checkups. The Sisters of Charity tried desperately to steer the depleted newcomers to a Godly life that held promise rather than a broken one on the streets.

Wealthy do-gooders, fanning their jowls and flanked by constables, mingled among the poor in the Five Points taking the populace in as you would a P.T. Barnum grand traveling circus with wide eyes, disbelief, and curiosity. They covered their noses with handkerchiefs, aghast at our squalor and confined living spaces as well as the swampy smell we became accustomed to. Concern regarding our poorly draining Bestevaer swamp was evident in their eyes as they noted the demise of our ramshackle buildings and sliding tenement homes resulting from the poorly engineered landfill and waterway problem. The water problems not only caused our structures to sink and fall but sewage leaked into the streets, fostering disease and death. Our conditions were unsanitary at best and deplorably uninhabitable at worst. But for the poor who could not afford to live elsewhere, it was called home. However, having the Manhattanites in town served a purpose for pickpockets and thieves dressed as sweet children. Any angler worth his salt used the opportunity to their advantage when up towners were here. They were often rewarded with their best ‘get’ of watches, wrist-lets, medallions, coins or rings that were immediately melted down at the Pawn Shop before any claims could be made.

Trolleys and carriages stopped at each corner in the Five Points between the fourth and sixth wards all day long delivering passengers to their destinations. The city bustled with life as people walked their schnauzers, wiener dogs, and retrievers, or stood singing and playing instruments such as organ grinders and fiddles for money on a corner. My favorite was the organ grinder with the poodle who danced while he played. Bums with missing limbs held up signs begging for food and charity. Some were too forlorn to beg and lie sleeping on the brick pavement, hoping for a few coins when they woke.

“He-She’s,” that’s what my mama called them, stood at the street corners waiting for a certain clientele to approach them, never mind if it was daylight, they shared flasks of gin and danced eagerly in anticipation of the evening’s events. If we passed them, my mama shielded my eyes so I wouldn’t see their drunken ludicrous behavior that included much fondling.

Ours was a crumbling civilization to say the least. Streets needed repair, rubbish stood putrid on every corner and storefront. In the Five Points jobs were scarce, medicine hard to come by, and the level of noise increased with all the construction continually going on. Construction was a necessary evil though because it was one place immigrants could find work. Unsafe conditions had many natives opt out after seeing one accident and death after another.

The only time the streets were quiet was during the draft. Men of a certain age abandoned the tavern and gambling halls in favor of their reclusive homes or hideouts hoping not to be found and summoned. Coffins carrying dead soldiers lined the harbor docks daily causing a panic for young men who then went to extremes by mutilating themselves; cutting off their fingers or bashing their ear drums to fail the necessary physical. If they could afford to pay a large fee of three hundred dollars they could avoid the draft and disfigurement altogether, otherwise it was law. The draft riled the Native American Butchers as well as the Bowery Brothers, Roach Guards, and Dead Rabbits, who joined in with the Daybreak Boys, Forty Thieves, and Swamp Angels gangs all in opposition to the wealthy buying their own sons’ safety. Our cities gangs grew and violence became worse.

Mama tried to shield me from the horror but I could hear gunshots at night and heard stories from the Canter boys about the murders occurring here nearly every day. All I had to do was look out my window at an opportune moment and I could see gangs fighting each other in daylight using make shift weapons such as axes, bats, bricks, knifes, and cleavers. In the mornings men lay dead at our doorway. It often took several days before the municipal came with shovels and scraped the stiff, reeking bodies into an open top carriage and carried them to a mass grave where they were covered with dirt, omitting the opportunity to say a proper goodbye and blessing over the deceased. Orphans or chiselers patrolled the streets for fresh dead bodies that they collected and sold to hospitals for research. If there was a way to make money the resourceful people of the Five Points found it.

Usually it was a drunkard or gambler that lay dead outside our door, but lately it was kids from our own block, getting involved in the gangs and fighting senselessly over territory, politics, or religion. The Dead Rabbits were the gang we were most afraid of. Gang members wore a red stripe on their pantaloons and carried a dead rabbit impaled on a spike with them into street fights. They fought the Roach Guards most of the time over territory and we lived at an intersection smack in the middle. We couldn’t afford to move just yet, but my mama decided if we rented two rooms in Mrs. Canter’s flat instead of our own apartment we could reside with her brood and save a few dollars each month. So we pared down our belongings in hopes of saving our pennies to get ahead, the promise of living further north spurring us on.

Mrs. Canter had six rotten smelling boys that always slagged around and no husband neither. All her lads shared a bed with each other and were directly across the hall from my mama and me; we could hear their snoring and farting all night long. Worse, we had to share a toilet basin with them and they always left crude pee stripes or sticky crap smears on the seat. One time I woke in the middle of the night to use the john and sat right in something sticky and thick. Sure enough it was crap from one of the vile boys and I was never so repulsed. I told my mama this the next day and she nodded in acknowledgment and scrubbed at the stains she was laundering even harder than normal. We had to wash our laundry in our kitchen basins and hang our clothing out to dry where they would soak in the stench from the filth filling the streets.

Several of Mrs. Canter’s lads were being recruited by the Gangs already. But it was Liam her five year old, the one that chewed on his toenails, that was caught for thievery and thrown into jail with a gang of ruffians. The thugs from the Dead Rabbits saved him from rape in the slammer and now he was indebted to them, bringing the threat and promise of gang life to our front door.

Many men from the gang approached my mama, dazed by her vitality and beauty even with short hair. She was fiercely protective of me and had a quick temper the men liked and admired her for. She was young and had more teeth than most women her age because she brushed regularly and ate her greens. She managed to push off most of the advances because the gang members were deeply involved in politicking and gambling.

Brian Kelley showed up at our door on numerous occasions after he had been into the drink, trying to tempt my mama towards a better life with him. Pulling at her slender hips with his grimy hands he tried kissing her right in front of me. He had dimples and a wide grin, but his eyes had lost their sparkle. He had seen death too many times and since he was a member of the Dead Rabbits Mama thought he had done his share of killing. When we found out he was murdered mama clutched her chest and sank to the ground. Until years later I didn’t understand mourning over someone she couldn’t possibly love like my Da.

After Da died, we naively moved from our spread out farming days in the country to the constraints of city, thinking it would be easier to manage our life where work, food, and medical care were right at our fingertips. We also had foolish hopes to find more of our kind, Irish immigrants. Mama had to go door to door in town asking for work as a laundress. We worked all day and night scrubbing and ironing to get our work done. One day shortly after we got settled my mama looked up at me and said, “Da and I made a promise to each other, any child of ours would get a proper education. We are set up well enough now that I can handle this laundry.” Just like everything else, when she made up her mind about something, it was done. She marched me to the schoolhouse the very next day and asked that I be registered.

One room in the schoolhouse was for elementary students like me and the other room was for the older children that already knew how to read and write and figure arithmetic. Most of the students were Irish immigrants like myself so we all had the same way of pronouncing our A’s. My teacher was called Miss Marianne and I adored her. She had patience for all the children in her classroom and was teaching me to read from my first primer.

Mama walked me to school in the mornings and picked me up in the afternoon. The city was bustling with people and it made her apprehensive. She worried I would get lost or caught in a scuffle, or worse, kidnapped and sold into prostitution. After she picked me up we delivered the day’s laundry and stopped by the grocers for supper. Usually we bought day old bread because it was cheaper and only a tad stale, cheese and whatever greens they had. I helped prepare our meager supper when we got home and read from my primer while my mama knit in the evenings, regaling me with faraway stories of Galway and my Da. I grew to associate the sound of her needles click clacking together, knit, purl, knit, and purl, with peaceful evenings. Together we would fall asleep to the harmonies of the city outside and to the sound of the Canters tooting along.

One dismal morning on our walk to school our routine was interrupted by the Sisters of Charity shuttling kids out from discarded boxes and in between doorways onto the sidewalks with offers of bread, sweet milk, and lollipops. Mama and I knew these children were orphans or had parents who had fallen on hard times, known as half orphans. I kept staring at the ratty clothing and bare feet on these poor souls, one of whom was a toddler.

“Mama, how can we help them?” I wanted to know.

“Uppy.” The wee toddler with the opaque eyes and green snotty nose held his arms up in the air for someone to pick him up.

“I am afraid we can’t, we are making just enough for ourselves at the moment, but you can put your penny in the collection for the Sisters of Charity at church service. That would be very generous and the Sisters will see that they are taken care of.” Mama was very matter of fact.

Orphans were all over the city, when I walked the short block to buy penny candy I saw a child looking in a garbage container and another chewing on moldy orange peels, another time I saw one sleeping on the sidewalk in mid-day. Wondering about these children occupied my mind day and night and made me feel guilty for my good fortune. I grew curious at how they survived the harshness of the city, what did they eat besides garbage and who told them what to do? It was already getting chilly in New York and it was only October, but surely the Sisters had rooms for them to rest at night. Was there not anyone else able to take pity on them?

My hair was starting to grow back in and I was teased mercilessly at school for looking like a boy. I wished I could wear my handkerchief in school but they were frowned upon so I suffered the abuse and just focused my energy on my letters. One day however, Owen Kenville teased me so badly that I stomped on his foot and made him cry. “That’s what you get,” I yelled at him, feeling zero remorse. He never teased me again.

Mama’s hair was growing in too but now she had some wiry grey strands around her ears and temples and it made her depressed. I thought she was the prettiest woman alive but the grey made her feel old. Her shoulders drooped a bit after a long day’s work and she lost a little of her steam.

“I am feeling a little sluggish today,” my mama declared one morning. “I‘m sure it’s just a virus and nothing to be concerned with, but Tabitha since you did such a fine job with the laundry a few weeks ago would you mind helping again?” she asked.

“Of course, Mama, I can help.” I said, determined as ever to do another good job, for she did look shagged.

However, by nighttime she was howling in pain. The tooth next to the one that was pulled several weeks earlier was hot to the touch. Her gums looked funny and there was a pimply pustule on them. I gave her a few of the leftover cloves and told her to hold them on her gums to help numb the pain and then I ran for Mrs. Canter. She fetched the dentist who came at once with his black satchel of endless tools, including what looked like a wrench. Mama’s fever spiked and we had no money left in the drawer for a second pull. Besides, my mama didn’t want to lose any more teeth and suffer with ill-fitting dentures. We brushed every day with baking soda on our cotton ramie cloths, and were careful to swish real well afterwards counting to ten before spitting. We even scrubbed our tongues.

But the dentist insisted this tooth was infected and the white pustule was an abscess. It needed to be pulled immediately and we could owe him the two dollar fee. Everyone agreed to the plan and the doctor filled my mama up with Jim Beam once more for the pain. He pulled this tooth with far more ease than the last one and didn’t need the two strongmen to hold her down. She was lethargic and tired the entire next day; not only was her cheek swollen but now subtle streaks of red ran down her neck, reminding me of the branches on our old willow tree the way they spread out like vines. Throughout the night my mama’s fever climbed making her eyes appear glassy, her breathing became shallower, and she looked iridescent. I offered her tepid ginger ale and wiped her brow to keep her cool, pleading with her to eat or drink to regain her strength. She had no appetite and passed away sometime during the night. The doctor said the infection poisoned her bloodstream, possibly from the tooth that was pulled weeks earlier.

I sat alone in my room with my mama dead beside me growing stiffer by the minute, her beautiful face swollen and bruised. It struck me as odd just then that we didn’t make time to pretty up the place. We had nothing on our walls, no framed pictures, samplers or artifacts. Time had double crossed us. Never would there be a moment belonging to my mama and me again.

Mrs. Canter poked her head in to our bedroom, “Tabitha, allow me to prepare your mother for her burial.”

“Okay,” I said, meekly.

“What do you suppose we should dress her in?” Mrs. Canter looked into my mama’s wardrobe and pulled out her Sunday outfit.

“She’d like that.” I said, and so Mrs. Canter dressed her in the emerald green ensemble she wore to worship, complete with thick cream stockings and matching shoes. She applied pink rouge to the cheeks on the corpse disguised as my mama, Mrs. Maura Salt, and covered her hair with the red handkerchief.

A few customers came to tell me how sorry they were for my loss and to collect their laundry; a few even tipped me shiny pennies. But none of them offered to take me in, not even Mrs. Canter.

“You’ll need your nourishment, Tabitha, eat this.” Mrs. Canter gave me a thick ham sandwich with extra mustard and a glass of frothy milk sweetened with sugar. She left me alone once the last of the visitors came by. I picked at my crusts and wondered what I would do. We had been living in the city for less than a year and we didn’t know many people outside our building. We didn’t have the time to make friends or find other Irish folk either.

I took the handkerchief off my mama’s noggin and rubbed at the stubble that felt velvety soft beneath my fingertips.

“Mama, Mama, why did you leave me?” I cried, noting the how the grey had spread from her temples to her crown and grew in straight where it used to be curly. I wiped off the rouge and lipstick and climbed onto the table draping her arm across my shoulders. We laid curled up together one last time until the men from the morgue came and took her away. I screamed and clawed at the men, kicking their shins and begging them not to take her, but they did anyway. The only memento I had now was her red handkerchief and it was the color of blood so I didn’t want it. The Canter boys had to help the men from the morgue get my mama down the small stair well, and they checked on me once or twice that evening but I told them to go away.

The following morning I woke alone for the first time in my life. I was numb. Waves of confusion and shock taunted and tugged at me from all sides, threatening to pull me under a thick hovering cloud. I began jingling the pennies in my pocket; the ones I had saved them for the Sisters of Charity. I had to go to them now because they were the only people I knew of that helped kids like me. I knew the way to the stoop where they were often seen gathering orphans. Now that I was an orphan I could give them the pennies and they could help me find a new home. While I looked boyish with my short hair I wasn’t ugly and maybe, God willing, someone would want me.

My legs didn’t want to work; I sat motionless on the floor, staring into space, unable to focus on anything. I was not hungry or mobile. I was alone and frightened. I was an orphan.

The word ‘orphan’ sat thick on my tongue like cotton. I couldn’t swallow it no matter how I tried. I feared becoming hysterical so I concentrated on breathing deeply in and out through my nose to calm myself. I needed a plan but my head was spinning and I could hardly think straight. First, I had to get my legs to work. I rubbed my shins and flexed my feet to get the blood pulsing. I stood up and tried walking; it was like being on air. I felt no pressure beneath the souls of my feet and I was aloof in my quest. I didn’t stumble or fall, just put one foot in front of the other and counted my steps out the door. I felt nothing and everything all at once.

Chapter 3 Alone

Sister Agnes was patrolling the streets for children when I stumbled upon her.

“Excuse me, Miss, can you help me?” I asked. I was frightened but the woman, who I knew to be a Sister of Charity based on her habit, looked at me with smiling eyes that put me at ease.

“Why sure, my child, what can I do for you?” the Sister asked.

“I have,….. I have nowhere to go.” I admitted, my courage no longer sustaining me, tears expelling themselves in torrents from my eyes.

“There, there, it will be alright: what is your name and how old are you?” she inquired.

“My name is Tabitha Salt and I am ten, almost eleven.”

“Do you go to school, Tabitha?” she inquired.

“I do. Miss Marianne is my teacher, but now I don’t have anyone to walk me, and my mama doesn’t like me to walk alone.”

“Where do you live Tabitha, where are your mother and father?” Sister Agnes asked probing gently for answers.

“Well I lived over there,” I pointed a shaking hand to the tenement building. “But my mama just died so I have to leave because there is a new renter coming in.”

The Sister led me to a bench and sat me down, holding my hands all the while I told her about my da’s death on the farm and my mama’s bloody tooth.

“So now I am all alone,” I repeated.

When I was done talking and sat next to her spent from emotion she held my hands tight. She soothed me by rubbing her thumb back and forth rhythmically across my tiny wrists. Sitting quietly for a moment, deciding how best to approach my situation she finally launched into a possible solution that did NOT involve an orphanage but rather orphan trains.

“I know this is a lot to take in right now, but I would like to help you if you’ll let me, will you let me help you, Tabitha?”

“Uhuh.” I said quietly.

“Have you ever heard of Reverend Brace?” Sister Agnes asked me.

“No, who is he?”

“Well, he is a very important man who is trying to help children like yourself. He has started a movement on behalf of New York City which is failing its children, the needs of the city’s indigent are simply not being met,” the Sister said sternly.

I didn’t know what indigent meant but assumed I was one. She went on to explain that orphanages and workhouses were not well funded and the inhabitants suffered abuse, mistreatment, and further neglect. Many children ran away from such facilities she stated. This was “not a good place for you at all,” she said, speaking more to herself than to me. She further detailed how the Reverend put his head together with several other humanitarians and Children’s Aid servants to find a solution to the growing epidemic. He did not believe in charity for its own sake and felt certain soup kitchens and handouts fostered dependence. Instead he had an idea to help society by establishing Newsboy lodging houses, industrial schools, and night schools. But these too fell short, furthering the Reverend’s belief that without familial life, true reform was lacking. His thoughts fixated on the growing dangerous criminal activity that lured thousands of children. The only option available was sending the homeless waifs and half orphans west. The westward expansion of the railways would help make this possible. The idea was radical and ingenious and enormous effort went into it. Want Ads were circulated ahead to cities on route with details regarding the children available for adoption or work. Children were given bibles, new clothing and had their hair tended, they used cardboard suitcases for their belongings. All the children were given a lesson in manners and new identities before being sent on their way.

Sister Agnes was animated with her description of the massive locomotives and of Reverend Brace whom she held on a pedestal.

“The Sisters and I personally draft and circulate Want Ads and circulars so that someone could be waiting just for you when you arrive at their stop. If you’re willing to board the train, you could have a new home, just like that.”

The orphan trains were piled with children from the poverty stricken city and transported west on the Erie line where they were fostered by new families or selected to become laborers. Sister Agnes detailed the countryside out west describing fresh air and wide open fields with roaming animals. While I could create a picture in my mind of flower gardens and flapping hens, I couldn’t bear the thought of new parents. Most children in the Sisters’ care were given a ten day waiting period for any of their parents to claim them, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen for me since my parents were both dead.

“Would you like that?” Sister Agnes asked me, breaking my concentration. I was purely confused by all the big words she used, never heard of Reverend Brace or his schools for boys, what about girls? Why weren’t there schools for us? Terror filled my veins, the thought of boarding a train heading someplace unknown, while all alone did not sit well with me.

After meeting Sister Agnes and hearing about the trains I ran up the familiar stairwell into to Mrs. Canter’s apartment to ask her opinion, she already knew about them and had asked the Sisters of Charity to kindly consider taking me along on their next departure. It would be charitable she said considering my age, most families only wanted babies to adopt and kids much older than me were used for work. Perhaps because of my laundry skills I could be useful to someone even though I was ten and my cuteness potential was lost with my curls.

I didn’t have time to let the shock of losing my mother settle in. I couldn’t allow myself one tear or it would turn into an unstoppable fountain of self-pity and body numbing grief. Furthermore the city was my home now.

I pleaded with Mrs. Canter to let me stay with her, “Please, Mrs. Canter, I won’t be a bother and I can help you with the laundry, I don’t even have to go to school anymore!” I cried. I didn’t want to go on no orphan train with the juveniles, but she already had too many mouths to feed and no husband neither.

“No, no that won’t do, I have enough on my plate already I am sorry child.” Reluctantly she sent me away with cookies and told me to gather my belongings because our room was going to a new renter on the morrow. I grabbed a laundry bag and filled it with my primer and the only two dresses I owned. I only had two pairs of underwear and stockings and even though they were riddled with holes we had yet to mend, I put them in also along with a needle and thread. I reached under our clothing hamper and found the one thing I would treasure. Mama kept the picture taken of us under the hamper where it was dark, she never wanted it to fade or crumple. “Someday we can have it framed and even take another photo to go beside it,” she used to say, her voice nothing but a memory now. I looked at the picture of us; it was taken when we first got to the big city. We were giddy and apprehensive at the same time. Neither of us was smiling so that our teeth showed but we had sparkle in our eyes and were full of ambition. That’s how I will remember my mama always, with sparkles in her eyes and ambition in her heart.

Miss Marianne, my teacher, heard the news of my mother’s passing and tried her best to soothe my worries and concerns about the orphan train. She said I could keep coming to school but that I needed to be kempt and clean. She didn’t ask where I would be staying so I didn’t tell, and on my first night alone in the city that’s where I went. I was the first orphan under the stoop that night but by midnight there were three more. Tommy was the oldest scoundrel and his nose was crooked and misshapen from being broken so many times.

“You just gotta learn how to steal food, or sneak into houses at night to get warm.” Tommy said like breaking the law was no big deal.

“There are other ways a girl could get warm in the big city.” Karen said with a dirty laugh, as she slid her skirt up with a wink of her eye. That one would lie down in a bed of nettles for certain.

She had dirt under her fingernails and violet hollows under her sad eyes. Tommy leaned in closer to Karen and they cuddled up together and away from me and Scotty. Scotty was slightly older than me but had been on the streets a long time. He smelled like something from the sewers and slept with one eye open threatening to beat up anyone that bothered us at night.

“I’ve been in a home for boys once already, and I aint’ going back there.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Cuz they got too many rules and they whip you good if you don’t follow ‘em.”

“Well at least they fed you there, right?” I was already wondering about my next meal.

“If you can call it food! I just gotta be careful not to get caught, I’ve been seen with the Roach Guards and if I get picked up it’s a for me.”

I didn’t really think Scotty was a delinquent but he did steal us some bread for dinner and gloves for my freezing hands. Tommy and Scotty both swept the streets and sold Sunday papers for coin but sooner or later they would have to join one of the gangs for protection. Neither knew what it really meant to be initiated, but both looked hopefully at the prospect.

“I can help you get a job you know.” Scotty whispered in my ear, his stinky breath hanging thick between us like fog.

“Thanks, but I am going to try to get a job tomorrow doing laundry, I am good at that. I did it with my mama. Plus Miss Marianne said as long as I was clean I could still go to school.” I picked at my fingers, pulling at the hangnails until they bled.

“Awe isn’t that swell, she did laundry with her mama, guys.” Tommy threw the crusty heal of his bread at my legs. “You better grow up fast, your mama ain’t here no more,” then he cracked his knuckles one at a time before pulling on holey brown gloves that covered his scabs.

“You’re just jealous she had a mama you prick, Tommy, leave her alone.” Scotty moved in front of me ready to pounce on Tommy if he kept at it.

“You really think you can go to school and work?” Scotty asked. Of the three scoundrels under the stoop with me, he was the only one with any hope and still held a gleam in his eyes.

“Well, it’s my plan and I have to try. Where can I get cleaned up in the morning?” I asked, remembering my promise to my teacher.

Before the sun lit up the morning sky the Sisters of Charity were at the stoop ushering us kids out with offers of dark bread and hot tea. Sister Agnes was not among the flock. Their offerings were tempting but Scotty grabbed my hand pulling me to my feet and together we ran for it until we mixed in with the city dwellers, adrenaline on high gear.

“What do you need to get cleaned up?” Obviously Scotty hadn’t cleaned up in a while so he did not know where I could go for a fresh water basin and some baking soda for my teeth. It had been a full day since I brushed and my teeth felt slimy already. I decided to talk to Miss Marianne about this, begging for a clean basin of water to wash with at the beginning of school and in return I would gladly clean the chalkboard and erasers.

Miss Marianne agreed this was a good idea, she asked me then as if it just dawned on her where I had been sleeping and right then I told my first lie. I told her I was bunking on Mrs. Canter’s floor for now and explained there were too many people in the small house for a fresh water basin or bath so this would be easier.

After school I began my search for a job doing laundry. Heavens knows I knocked on all the doors I had with my mama one year earlier in hopes someone would remember me, but on account of my short bristly hair cut nobody did. I was shooed away and swat at like a pesky fly, so I decided to head towards the docks and asked the sailors and workers if they had laundry but they sent me away too thinking I was just another beggar boy.

It became clear that laundering wasn’t going to work. So the second day after my mama died I went around town with Scotty and asked store clerks if I could sweep for them and keep their storefront clean for a penny. Five stores turned me away abruptly but the sixth was owned by a matronly woman who took pity on my poor soul and gave me the job even though she called me, “boy.”

I encountered a problem immediately; I had no place to store my nice school clothing and primer while I was at work sweeping and conversely no place to keep my work clothes while at school. I knew that speaking to Miss Marianne about this would be suspicious so instead I talked to Scotty. We devised a watch out system for the stoop. We took turns guarding our territory while the other was working and we began looking out for each other in other ways too. One day Scotty would bring extra bread to share and in return I would wash his spare socks in the left over basin water at school. Whenever Tommy bullied me, Scotty would step in and threaten to break his nose again, and he could too. Tommy was slightly built and not very strong. Scotty was only eleven but stronger and sturdier than Tommy was at thirteen. He knew more than his share about fighting too, the way he held his arms and fists made me wonder.

One night Karen came to the stoop crying, her dress had been torn away at the hem and there was blood mixed with mud on her legs. She had no noticeable scrapes or cuts, only a pink tinged blood slowly making its way from her thighs down the back of her knobby knees, slowing down to pool at her ankles. Tommy was livid and unable to comfort Karen because he had plans to go out and “kill” the asshole who did this to her.

“What happened, Scotty?” I asked, unaware of how she was injured.

“You’re just a kid, aren’t you?” he replied.

It was the first time he insulted me and I cried softly into my hands, feeling like an eejit at my confusion and misunderstanding. Tommy cradled Karen in his arms and whispered sweetly to her until she fell asleep.

That night I missed the click clack of my mama’s knitting needles as well as the very smell of her, I envisioned her there with me, her arms protectively around me, sheltering me from harm as she always had. She hummed sweetly into my ears and I allowed myself to feel her presence and for a fleeting moment the heaviness I felt weighing me down lifted.

The next day at school I felt distraught and told Miss Marianne about Karen. She asked once more where I had been and because it was against my conscience to fib a second time I told her about the stoop. Once school ended Miss Marianne took me to the Elizabeth Home for Girls. At the home I was to learn to sew and type in order to become a productive member of society. I would have a cot to sleep in at night as well as food to eat. I would also have a place to wash. I hated this home; the girls, fifty-eight in all, were crammed into rooms often two to a cot. The showers were communal and older girls made fun of my “buds” and short boy hair. I was teased relentlessly that my mama taught me to do laundry and this made me livid. I missed Scotty, and even Tommy and Karen and I was upset that I never got to tell the shopkeeper I wouldn’t be there the next day to sweep away the grime on her sidewalk. I remembered how the blood tinged loogies and spit got stuck in the broom making it wet and harder to use. I had devised a way around this but now the job was lost and it didn’t matter.

I was no longer permitted to go to school in lower Manhattan and I missed Miss Marianne’s kindness terribly. Most of the girls at the Home were older than me and had no more reason for schooling. They were learning to type for secretarial jobs or learning to sew in order to become dressmakers. We were fed measly portions of greyish soup with chunks of mystery meat that barely filled our bellies. Many of the girls were delinquents and they caused much havoc, they were caught smoking in their rooms or sneaking out with boys, one girl even became pregnant while in the home. I quickly learned the ways between a man and woman and now knew what happened with Karen. I hope she wasn’t doing “it” to make coin, for that would mean she did it on purpose and she was only thirteen. The thought made me shiver and I held myself in a bear hug promising never to do this no matter how bad my circumstances became.

I had only been at the home for three weeks when one morning while making the bed I shared with a girl of fourteen, named Mira, I noted my few belongings scattered across the floor. There before me was the photo of my mother ripped up into pieces. I could no longer control my anger, I had been a good Christian girl for so long but I had so few items left. I ran to find Mira nearing the showers and clocked her one right in the nose. I didn’t stop there, I punched, kicked and hit her ferociously until her friend Dottie was able to get her arms around me from behind and pull me off. I knew it was Mira, she called me a bratty kid, told me I had it easy and I had it coming to me. She told me I needed to toughen up and forget my mama. She heard me crying in my sleep and knew I had a treasured object under my side of the mattress.

Mira was bleeding badly and I was glad. All the anger I had bottled up since my mama died just came out of me and I couldn’t control it. Tears streamed down my face in torrents and mixed with my snot, which I wiped on my thin woolen blanket that spread evenly across my portion of the bed. My breathing was rapid and I clenched my teeth, deciding what to do next.

I was not allowed dinner and had a meeting with the ward of the Elizabeth Home at six that evening. While everyone was in the dining hall eating their gruel I quietly grabbed my belongings from the floor along with the tattered pieces of my photograph and ran for the door. I ran without stopping until I found the stoop on Mulberry Street and sat down breathless. Letting my anger and sadness pour out of me I cried and punched at the stairs until my fists bled.

I waited for Scotty, Tommy and Karen to appear all night but none of them came. It was cold and blustery; I tried to stay awake and make myself unnoticeable by pulling my knees up to my stomach and slinking deeper in the corner. I worried about the bolloxed men who would be leaving the pubs soon. I woke to street sounds, boot blacks setting up their stations, trains and horns screeching and honking, I had fallen asleep sometime near dawn. My fingers were swollen and blue, my toes near frozen. I went to the shop to get my sweeping job back but the matronly woman shooed me away. I had nowhere to go and nowhere to turn. I was alone and scared.

I missed my da and the old Irish tunes he sang sweetly to us after dinner, and the way he was always coddin’ around. I missed my mama for more reasons than I could count. I even missed Mrs. Canter and all her handouts. I had only one choice…. I wiped my bloody hands across my dirty skirt, pulled up my knee socks, sucked in my breath and walked towards my destiny.

Chapter 4 Orphan Train

“Children, children, line up for your breakfast.” The Sisters clapped their hands to organize us in a single file line before leading us into the mess hall where we were fed a hot morning meal of porridge with chunks of fruit and sweet milk. Afterwords they bathed us, putting our worn clothes in a large pile to be burned, claiming cleanliness was godliness. I thought it wasteful and remembered how my mama wove scraps of old material into her knitting giving it new life, but here we were to dispose of our old clothing for fear of flees and lice. We were stripped of our personal belongings too but I managed to smuggle the tattered remains of my photo into my underwear before anyone got a hold of it. Our hair was washed, brushed and braided and we were dressed in proper dresses complete with bows around our middles. The boys were in suit coats, long socks, knickers and dress shoes. What little hair I had was made desirable with a feminine pink headband. I hated pink and I hated headbands even more but the Sisters said I needed to look young, cute and especially clean. We were given instruction on proper manners, for example, the Sisters told us over and over “don’t speak unless spoken to” as well as “clasp your hands together and stand still, no fidgeting.” We were to smile and be expressive when meeting our prospective families, hiding our pain, burying it deep.

Then we were given new names.

“You will be named Mary.” Sister Agnes handed me a Bible and told me to hold it close to my chest.

“Mary?” I stuttered.

“Yes, it’s a very comely name and now you must erase anything about your old self or any religious beliefs you have had in the past. Can you read Mary?” Sister Agnes asked.

“Yes, I can.” I could hardly get used to my new name, but I could read.

“Well then study the Bible, fill your mind with pure thoughts and set about being the best Christian you possibly can. Can you do that?”

“Uh huh.” I uttered very quietly.

The following morning we boarded a massive train following the Erie route west heading for Illinois; it would travel northwest through New York before making stops in all the major cities in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana along the way. Our stops were coordinated ahead of our arrival by the Sisters who corresponded with churches at our destinations. They did their best to describe the ages and demeanors of the children on board the Orphan Train to interest local families who wanted a child of their own or were in need of farm hands. The laboring children were given over freely in exchange for their care that consisted of clothing, a bed to sleep in at night, and a few hot meals throughout the day. Most of the children were hoping they would be loved as well.

WANTED:

HOMES FOR ORPHAN CHILDREN

A group of orphans under the auspices of the Sisters of Charity

Will arrive in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on November 1st

Children on board looking for homes and or work include:

Baby girl of 6 months, good disposition

Female siblings ages 11 months and 2, in good health

Boy of 4; small for his size, good demeanor

Twin girls age unknown, criss crossed eyes, shy, otherwise good health

Boy of 6; blue eyes, blond hair, quiet and shy, adequate health

Siblings 7 and 8, a boy and girl respectively, friendly and hard working.

Girl of 10 with short hair, malnourished, previous experience as laundress

Twin boys aged 12, hard workers, experience with horses

Boy of 13 with reading and writing skills and good singing voice

2 boys of 14, well fed, disciplined workers, nice disposition

4 lads 15 years old with various work experience, all capable and healthy.

PLEASE NOTE: SIBLINGS KEPT TOGETHER WHENEVER POSSIBLE.

Sister Agnes had frizzy brown hair that always strayed from her bun and she wore wire spectacles with thick glass making her eyes appear like large saucers. Her frame was wiry like her hair but she was otherwise unremarkable in her appearance, it was her genuine kindness that became evident to all the children she was to chaperone for the trip. She pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath; already overwhelmed by the task of managing so many orphans. There were a dozen and a half of us for the trip and at the last minute a blubbering child of five, who was very small and undernourished for his age was added to the mix making for nineteen. The child was given the Christian name, Edmund.

“Mary, will you be kind enough to look after Edmund today?” Agnes asked placing the child beside me and settling him with a snack.

Several hours later, she approached the two of us again. “Well he seems to be doing quite well in your company, perhaps he can be your charge for the trip, would that be all right with you?” she asked.

“Certainly Sister,” I responded, unwilling to do or say anything that wasn’t Christian. I had never cared for a child before but remembered my mama’s words, “we do what we must to help others and get by.”

Edmund was a clingy child who was not on the Want Ad because of his late addition. It was obvious he had not been properly cared for as he was not fully potty trained and had very few words to his vocabulary. He sucked his thumbs and had difficulty making eye contact. He was ornery and sickly, always crying with snotty boogies, eye mucus, and a whistling sound emanating from his chest. It gagged me but if I were to become a Christian I would have to do my best to care for Edmund, which meant wiping his snot and patting his back so he could cough up the thick phlegm plaguing his chest and causing him distress. He held onto me for dear life, making me wonder what his five years had been like up until now. I asked Agnes what was on my mind and she said, “never mind about that, all that matters is what happens now.” It would be a difficult placement not only due to his poor health but he had pressing dark features. His skin was olive toned and his hair was dark like his eyes. If he was mistaken for a Spaniard he had no chance whatsoever for adoption. His nose was big for his face and his lashes were long and dark, he was a pretty boy although he was extremely shy.

I was going to be lucky to get adopted. I was a freckle faced ten year old, had untamed spiky reddish hair that made me look like a boy in spite of my headband and calico dress. I ate like a boy and fought like a boy if anyone tried to cheat me. I had developed a chip on my shoulder according to Agnes. Adoptive parents wanted babies and darling children or conversely they wanted strapping lads who could work a farm. I was neither and Edmund was neither and as we found at our first stop, we were not wanted.

The first stop west was in Pennsylvania. It only took us half a day by train to get there so the children on board weren’t weary from travel although our bums were sore from the wooden bench seats. Typically, the small children rode in the carriages with Sister Agnes while the older charges road in the boxcars, becoming known as “boxcar children.” We wore our traveling outfit aboard the train and were now instructed to change into our Christian attire. I put on my dress with bow and changed Edmund’s nappy, which gagged me at once given the gigantic size of the turd he delivered. He held in his bowel movements for days, giving him stomach cramps and then when he had to go it was epic. I dressed him in the suit he was given for formal attire. I had to change him frequently as he only had one alternative outfit and if he should have an accident there were no basins to wash the clothing in properly. I put my photograph shreds snuggly against my underwear seam and smoothed my skirt as I had seen my mother do. We were told to forget where we came from, forget our old lives and old selves and even our names but I would NEVER forget my mother.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight to prevent the tears that were welling in my heart from spilling out. The city and all of its memories, both good and bad, were behind me now, my mother and father were dead and I was alone in the world. As I held Edmund nestled to my chest, feeling the vibration from his wheeze, a tear escaped, I quickly wiped it, sucked in my breath and made the decision to look forward. I would try.

As the train neared its destination the nineteen orphans were given further instructions on how to behave on the platform.

“Remember, children, only speak when spoken to, your new families want respectful children, show your manners and smile!” Sister Agnes handed out lemon flavored lollipops and allowed us a few moments to suckle them. Several of the train riders were crying and others clutching their stomachs. Agnes assured us that, “we were God’s children and there was a place for each of us.” She told us to hold our chins up and think of our bright future. When lollipops were finished and faces wiped clean, Sister inspected our clothing and ushered us from the train to the platform, touching each child in some way, a gentle hand on the shoulder or a pat on the back, her way of providing assurance and confidence to us.

“Stay together now children, line up in order of height like we practiced. Taller children stand in the back, smaller ones in the front.” Sister Agnes spoke as we took our places on the stage in Philadelphia’s town center. The sugar surge from the lollipops helped to lighten our spirits and energize us before greeting the families that gathered in anticipation of our arrival. I held the pint sized Edmund’s hand and wiped his sticky chin, and then smiled my brightest smile. Someone had to think I was worthy. I could work hard and could even read and write. I tried putting Edmund down on the ground to stand on his own but he wouldn’t have it. Nor would he go to Agnes, he fussed and cried which brought on a coughing fit causing a spectacle ensuring that no one would want him at this destination. However, when he got back into the fold of my arms he calmed right down and laid his sweet cheeks on my neck. His tears and snot wet the rim of my dress collar but I didn’t mind, when it dried I would just flake it off. My arms grew tired from holding him but my heart wept; poor Edmund, whatever happened to him in his short life? He was endearing himself to me and I would do whatever I could to help him find a home.

After an hour on the splintered wooden platform paraded like cattle, four children were officially adopted. Two big strapping fellows that rode in the boxcar were taken together by a dairy farmer; the boys seemed glad of it and thanked Sister Agnes for her kindness. It was very Christian of them and I put it in my head to remember for when my time came. Then two of our youngest went to a couple who must have been unable to bear their own children. The proud parents held the babies up in delight, cuddling and kissing them already.

Sadly, fifteen of us remained orphans and boarded the train once more feeling an uncanny mix of apprehension and excitement as we headed towards our second destination in Ohio. The smaller children were terrified of the dark and had difficulty sleeping. Edmund’s lungs rattled and wheezed at night and his coughing fits kept the majority of us awake. I laid him across my lap and pat his back with cupped hands and this did help bring up the phlegm that clogged his airways. He had no place to spit the mucus so he swallowed it down once more. Agnes did her best to quell the fears of the kids by singing lullabies at night and sacrificing her own sleep to ensure everyone was comfortable, warm, and felt safe.

Aside from a quiet thirteen year old boy I was the oldest charge in the carriage portion of the train so I did my best to help calm the children. I told them stories from my days on the farm, describing the funny things the animals did. I told them about Harriett the hen who chased me around her pen when I tried to steal her eggs, she would cluck and flap her wings at me while I gathered our breakfast. I told them of my pony Oliver too and how I used to brush and braid his long tail sometimes adding wooden beads in the braid for decoration. However, when Sister Agnes heard me recounting my days on the farm she reminded me I was to forget everything from my past. I had difficulty making up stories so I relied on the few my mama told me; Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood were favorites.

The children grew more sullen as we traveled west, tummies grumbled and germs passed between us causing colds and numerous fevers. We were given pails containing a snack of crackers and orange juice to curb our appetites until we stopped at night for a more filling supper. Our dinners were preceded by a prayer, and if we were able to coordinate our meal with a stop we would gather with those from the box car and take our supper together. Dinners included fresh bread, sweet milk, a protein, and green, and while the food was not delectable it was more than most of us had seen before so we gobbled it down.

I learned later that many of the children aboard the train were from my ward and that some of them had parents that were alive. They were handed over to strangers for numerous reasons. Some folks were doing hard time in jail, others were drunkards or drug addicts who had fallen prey to the opium dens, the majority, however, were financially incapable of caring for their children. The poverty stricken city produced so much crime resulting from immigration that even those with good intentions handed their flesh and blood to the Sisters hoping they would have a better life in the country. The thirteen year old boy with the lovely singing voice and sunken eyes told me that his mother was a prostitute and could no longer care for him. I held his hand tightly, knowing he felt abandoned and unwanted like I did. I thanked my lucky stars above that I had a good mama who would never sell me out or send me away as long as she was alive. I felt a little remorse towards the girl who I beat up at the Girls’ home because she must not have had any love before and didn’t know just how nice a comfort it was.

As the train rolled along westward we made several stops at churches, opera houses and town halls. Agnes handed out sweets and repeated her instructions, then we cleaned our faces and marched onto the platform where we put on our best show, smiling, being delightful, and praying for a family to want us. Many boys didn’t necessarily want families but rather work and often that is what they were offered. As long as they were fed and had a bed at night the family could adopt them for free in exchange for their labor. The next two boys adopted out went to a mill owner who wished to expand his operation. They were given room and board in exchange for work and seemed quite happy about it, they said their goodbyes to those of us left on the train and started their new lives.

Several more babies and toddlers were adopted by families that would love them as their own. You could see it in the eyes of the new parents, the tenderness they showed when examining their prospective new child, counting their fingers and toes. There was love in their embrace when all the paperwork requirements were met and they were able to take their child home. It was something to marvel at, the way parents just knew which child was meant for them. I couldn’t deny the children this love although I was growing more anxious and insecure as the train traveled west, changing lines from the Erie to the Lackawanna in Chicago.

Edmund was painfully shy and guarded. He gripped my hand tighter than ever and particularly so on the platform. One eager man came towards Eddie, as I had begun to call him. He tried to be friendly and get Eddie to talk before he stuck his dirt-ridden fingers in the little guy’s mouth to examine his teeth. Eddie chomped right down on them, spitting out the yucky residue left from the stranger’s fingers and proceeded to wail so loudly that any attention he called to him or to me for that matter was unwanted. I took Edmund back into the train that afternoon and cuddled him as if he were mine. He was a lovely child once you got past his quirky behaviors, fears, and snotty nose. As long as I had Eddie to care for I would surely never be given a home. But I secretly liked being needed by Eddie and grew to adore him.

I decided to make the Orphan Train my home with Eddie. We were fed and had beds to sleep on at night and had nowhere else to be. I began to sing Eddie the ABC’s and taught him to count to ten. We counted our fingers and toes and he laughed when I pretended I captured his nose. His smile was devilish, and boy was he a squirmy fellow, turning to spaghetti when it was time to change his nappy or change him into his traveling clothes. Agnes had a few children’s books on the train and as I pointed to the pictures Eddie and a few other children would forget where we were headed and just enjoy the moment.

At night we often slept at hotels or in church halls that were prepared for us ahead of time by the Sisters of Charity’s correspondence. The boys and girls were divided and separated into rooms by age and gender. But Eddie and I always slept together. No one else could get him to fall asleep; he needed me to pat his back and rub his hair just so and to sing his favorite lullabies such as ‘Rock a Bye Baby’. He held onto my thumbs with his tiny hands and when I woke in the morning he would be staring adoringly into my eyes.

Agnes was fearful Edmund was growing too attached to me and tried to take him upon herself but he proved to be too much trouble when she had so many other children to chaperone. The older children were growing restless and reported to be smoking and using profanity in the boxcars. One of the teenage boys had plans to jump from the train and run away but he was forced to sit in coach with us until his Christian notions settled in. Agnes quizzed him on bible verses, filled his mind with Christian ways and other nonsense until she was certain he would behave. When he finally made his way back to the boxcar he leapt off and we never saw him again.

One family on our fifth stop inquired about me as they heard I was skilled at laundry. The family was rather wealthy and had three young girls. They had a nanny under their employ but she struggled with the care and keeping of the girls and requested they hire a girl strictly for laundry. I was much too small for their liking and they hated my cropped haircut. Still they poked at my ears and hair, opened my mouth and inspected my teeth and gums as if I were a cattle specimen. They turned my hands over multiple times, looking curiously at my nail beds.

“She will do,” said the predatory woman without ever looking into my eyes that were welling with tears.

“Fine, I will sign the papers, meet me outside dear.” The man with the receding hairline said to his wife who was already walking away into the outdoor sunshine. There was nothing cheerful about her and I would be nothing more than a piece of property to them.

I was about to become indentured to a family that would never love me. What would become of Edmund? I had grown to love this child. He was pointing to all sorts of objects now and reciting them as well as reciting different animals and what sounds they made, “cat, dog, meow, ruff, ruff….”

“Now Mary, I assure you that I will remain in touch. It’s part of my job to follow up and see that you are thriving in your new environment.” Sister Agnes tried comforting me.

“But it’s not a family, as I’d hoped for….” I let my voice trail off.

“I know Mary, I know it isn’t as we hoped, but you will be provided for and have everything you need. You can write to me yourself, we shall be pen pals, would you like that?” She asked.

“I suppose it would be nice. Thank you, Sister Agnes.”

I prepared to say my goodbyes to Edmund, kissing him gently on the cheek and whispering into his tiny ears that I loved him and hoped a nice family would come for him at the next stop. He put his little hands on my cheeks and I heaved a sigh of grief so great that I began throwing up. I threw up all over my good Christian dress and all over Eddie’s suit of clothes. I had chunks of vomit in my hair and on my shoes, I looked into the face of the man who was to take me home and he snarled at me, threw the pen back at Agnes and said, “We’ve changed our minds.” He walked out. I was free to be with Eddie and Agnes for another few days at least.

I don’t know what overcame me that day, perhaps it was the fact we had been traveling for several weeks having gone through New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois and had paraded ourselves desperately in front of strangers, hoping to be wanted. Or perhaps it was my growing love for Edmund who was softening me, either way I was grateful for we only had one more stop before returning back to the city. We only had to go through the flat lands of Iowa and would be turning back around heading east to pick up more orphans. I would be able to stay with the Sisters until our next trip was scheduled.

Our very last stop on the way home was going to be in Mason City, Iowa. I had considered that maybe I could be a ward like Agnes some day and she agreed I would do a fine job. She also agreed it was necessary to find Edmund a nice family home first however, or I would be unable to help her on subsequent trips.

Most of the children had been adopted or exchanged for work at this point in our journey. There were five of us left including me and Eddie, a set of twin girls with criss crossed eyes, and a lad about the age of seven who was sullen and not so bright. The lad repeatedly hit himself in the forehead and screamed out curse words in feverish torrents frightening the smaller children on board.

We donned our finest clothes, Agnes reminded us of our good manners and to smile big for the crowd, then we met up with the coordinating Sister who led us to the Towne Center for our appraisals. Few families had come in to see us but one family that was present was most certainly of the do-gooder variety. They had children of their own but felt it was Christian to adopt a child in need bringing them into the folds of their family showing them the ways of the Lord. The woman of the family held the Holy Bible tightly across her chest while glancing at the five of us before her. She whispered to her husband, a stout man with a neatly manicured mustache that curled up on each end. He pulled out his glasses and put them on his beady eyes glancing closer at the twins. They clasped their hands together and smiled their best smiles that to me seemed to make their eyes cross even more towards their noses. The family walked towards the girls for introductions and soon laughter ensued because the girls learned they were to be adopted by none other than an optometrist who could fit them with glasses to strengthen their eyes and redirect their gaze. They were giddy with excitement and the best of all they weren’t to be separated as other siblings before them had been. The six year old twins ran to say their good byes to Agnes and they hugged Edmund and me as well before skipping off hand in hand with their new parents.

I smiled inside my heart because if two little girls with mousy hair and criss crossed eyes can get a family to love them then surely Edmund and I could. We just haven’t found them yet, or rather, they haven’t found us.

The last three of us unclaimed children boarded the train with Agnes and headed back to New York City. I was looking forward to the hustle and bustle of the city after seeing so much boring countryside. The possibility that I might see Scotty again loomed large within me. I liked him, he was my one and only true friend in the city. I thought maybe he could ride the next train bound west with me and find a place of his own or at least good honest work that he could be paid for doing. Scotty had a tough exterior but I suspected he was soft on the inside like the rest of us.

Our train pulled into the New York City Grand Central Station and rather than being met by large crowds milling about, kids selling the papers and or matches, we were met with emptiness.

“What’s this?” Sister Agnes asked, searching the barren station.

Spring brought a substantial rise and resurgence of cholera while we were traveling, the newspaper described it as an epidemic similar to the outbreak of 1831, one that took thousands of lives. Panic ensued. The widespread disease began taking lives shortly after we left on the orphan train. The Sisters remained healthy but many of the children from the slums were sickly or passed away. People in stagecoaches, livery coaches, or on horseback were leaving the city in droves. Inhabitants were forewarned not to eat or drink too heartily and not to sleep anywhere where there could be a draft. Posters lined the train station telling people to tend immediately to problems of the bowels and not to take any medicine without doctor’s advice, not to get wet, and or drink cold water. Yet no one knew what really caused the cholera; only that it spread.

The symptoms of cholera appeared instantly. Someone who appeared healthy in the morning could grow violently ill by mid-morning and have their skin turn a ghastly grey blue tint; they would become severely dehydrated and die shortly after. The city’s inhabitants walked on eggshells in fear for their lives.

“Children, it has been decided that we will not stay in the city a moment longer than we have to with cholera rising once again. Prepare to load the train tomorrow morning as we are heading west at once. We will have a large group this time, so please, do your best to be courteous and kind to anyone in need.”

Typically the Sisters would pre-arrange trips with very specific stops along the route however, in this emergent instance children frantically boarded the trains and set out for destinations unknown. The conductor agreed to stop in all major cities bound west in hopes of finding the children new homes.

Edmund and I were once again under the guardianship of Sister Agnes as we headed north west. Our route was slightly different this time, as we would head further north and go further west. We had near one hundred children on our train; all the children less than six years of age were with us in coach, while the older children rode in the cramped quarters of the boxcars. It was my duty to help Sister Agnes with all the small children, not just Edmund. Edmund was growing more plump and cheerful and had several more words to his vocabulary. He could even recognize letters now when I read to him. Although his features grew darker he was a precious boy who would have no trouble being adopted this trip.

We had two additional chaperones on our trip this run, Mr. and Mrs. Porter who helped with the infants, of which there were at least a dozen and a half. The infants needed constant dressing, changing, bundling, and feeding, which made me wonder why anyone who had a choice would prefer an infant to Eddie. I decided somewhat selfishly, I would train Eddie to use the potty like a proper big lad and alleviate the necessity to change his nappy. He did very well on his first few tries. The trick was getting him to realize when he had to make a dooty and tell me in time to get to the potty which was several cars behind us and therefore took some time getting to.

Wanting very much to please me Eddie eventually succeeded in becoming potty trained increasing his odds of going to a good home. I imagined a loving young mother who would dote on him endlessly and a father that would teach him to chop wood and feed the barn animals. Eddie already knew all the sounds the barn animals made and could sing a few lines from ‘Mary had a little lamb’…it was quite precious.

When I told Agnes of our success at potty training she pushed her frizzy brown hair behind her ears and pulled me in for a hug. It was the first hug I had received from an adult since my mother passed away and I stiffened at the sensation the embrace left me with.

“You did well, Mary, now surely Edmund will be adopted and you can help me with the other toddlers in need of attention.” She gave me a quick smile and was off preparing for our first stop.

As usual our first stop was in Pennsylvania and despite the fact our stop was not advertised in the paper it was a huge success, eight of the infants were given new homes and a dozen of the older children were exchanged for work to farms, mills, and even to hotels. Eddie and I were clinging to each other when a dapper couple came towards us. The young woman had brassy hair and a face full of freckles. Her curly locks attracted Edmund and as she approached he reached out to feel her tresses. She put her hands out in hopes Edmund would come to her but instead he clung tighter to me. I leaned into the lady with Edmund and tried to unhinge his little fingers from my dress. I asked him, “Eddie, what does the bunny do?” and he replied by squinting up his teeny nose and making a snuffling sound. The woman laughed at this and tried again to pry Eddie from my arms. After much coaxing with a grape sucker Edmund got down from my hip and stood at my side. His little hands held tight to my calico dress while he sucked his pop loudly and drooled out the side of his mouth. The woman and her husband asked if he was a bright boy, and did he sleep through the night, was he potty trained, did he have trouble hearing or seeing things? I answered all of the questions thoughtfully. I told them Eddie was the dearest child I had ever known, I told them of his nature to want to cuddle, how he liked to be sung to sleep and have his head rubbed. They were enchanted by him and decided that they would love nothing more than to welcome him into their home as their son. Tears filled my eyes. Eddie would have a loving home, a real family, and he could grow up to be a business man like his adopted father, or perhaps he could learn a trade. He would read and write, learn arithmetic and have a wife and children of his own one day. More than anything this family would see to his health and his ailing cough. He hardly noticed me as his new parents bribed him off the platform with stuffed animal toys and more treats.

Feeling a kinship towards me, Agnes placed her hands upon my shrugged shoulders in comfort, “Mary, I will talk to the Sisters about having you assist me with other small children, would you like that?” I hugged Agnes and stifled my tears, “Yes, I would like that very much,” I said feeling my heart break at the loss of Edmund. I also felt saddened and suddenly very worried about my own future and what it would bring. Edmund had become a crutch and once again I was alone.

Later I found out that Agnes had approached the family about adopting me as Eddie’s nanny, she showered me with praise for my ability to calm him when he was upset. But they declined, only having the financial capabilities to care for one child at this time.

I had many other children to look after on the train but at every stop more of them were finding homes. Terrified siblings clung to one another in fear of being ripped apart; happily most of them were taken together on this journey. All the infants were gone and most of the older lads and gals were gone too.

Agnes always talked up the clean air and when I closed my eyes I could taste it. I remembered the farm when both my mama and da were alive and we lived nestled in a two room split frame house with loft that my da built by himself. I had my own bed and starburst quilt and even had a window to see the constellations at night. The smell of fresh cut hay and the taste of the crisp apples that came from the trees by our stream filled my senses. I wished fervently that we could have stayed on that farm, that we could have figured a way, but the good Lord must have had a different plan in mind for me.

One day on the train when the children were napping I sat next to Agnes and asked about her family. She cleared her throat before recounting her story to me, fondling the cross she wore around her neck all the while. Her mother was a German immigrant in New York City struggling to feed her three small children. Her father left her mother for days on end heading to the brothels or opium dens in The Five Points. Her mother, Anna, starved herself in order to feed her children the scraps she could beg or find in garbage cans around the city. Hearing the news her husband died in a bar brawl she was overcome with shock and walked away from her children for an entire day. When she returned she had food and drink, blankets and a few spare coins for emergencies. She began going out at night and returning in the early morning hours, often times she was drunk and always she was sore down there. She smelled of cheap perfume and male body odor and more than once she came home with large bruises across her face. Agnes recounted the time her mother’s wrist was broken and she cradled it in her other arm, still she was able to put food on the table for her small children. When Agnes was thirteen her mother was gone so much she had to quit school and watch over her siblings. She herself would venture out in the daytime to sweep storefronts or beg for coin for more food. One night her mother didn’t come home at all and she was found dead in the ally way near their small home in lower Manhattan. She had been brutally raped and beaten to death. They found her with no shoes, no skirt, just a torn shift and simple cross around her neck tied with shoestring.

Agnes was separated from her siblings and brought to a corporately funded House of Refuge with hundreds of other neglected and abandoned children. The home for the refugees was poorly run and Agnes spent many pointless days scrubbing floorboards and washing windows. The children were given jobs to help keep them out of trouble but in many instances they were whipped and beaten or deprived of food if the overseer didn’t approve of their work. The children were often sickly and went without proper medical attention. Thankfully the Sisters of Charity were in need of a few young ladies to help them in the new journey they were set to begin across the countryside. The journey involved taking destitute children out of the filthy cramped city teaming with crime and delivering them to the countryside for a more healthy way of living. In return for the help the Sisters promised to bring children from the refuge home on their next trip west.

Agnes fingered the smooth wooden cross around her neck, “This was my mother Anna’s. She did her best to care for us. I will never know what happened to my siblings, but my destiny now is to help all of these children, and you too.” A tear trickled down her cheek and she let it roll onto her habit, she had chosen a life of faith instead of the painful life of family. She opened her bible and began mouthing the words to her favorite psalm, “The Lord is my Shepherd…..”

“How old are you, Agnes?” I asked interrupting her recitation.

“I suspect I am nearing eighteen,” she answered without looking up from her bible.

I crept back to my wooden plank seat in the last row of the carriage and thought of my life on the farm and of my parents. Suddenly I was grateful that neither of my parents agonized with death. To think of my mama giving herself to men for coin was sickening. To think of that act at all was disgusting but if it was with someone you loved perhaps it was okay.

I grew sullen as the days passed and more children were taken into loving homes. It wasn’t fair that my da died nor was it fair I had no mama; I had no one in this life to love me. Scotty and Little Eddie were the closet things I had to family and now they were gone, too.

I was setting up my new plan when the train pulled into our next stop, this time in Ohio. I was thinking of turning to the Lord and becoming a Sister like Agnes when a familiar cry reached my ears. We were walking off the train when the sound captured my attention; it was the wail of Edmund! He was being returned on account of his difficult nature. The gentleman who had signed the papers for him handed him to me and sought Sister Agnes. They were deep in concentrated discussion about the situation.

“It isn’t natural ma’am, if you’ll pardon me for saying so.” The gentleman had taken off his top hat while speaking with Agnes and gesturing to Eddie who was now safely in my arms.

Clinging to me as though his life depended upon it, I wiped Eddie’s snotty nose and kissed him on his cheeks. I missed this child dearly and now that he was back I would never let him go again. His eyes were puffy and tear stained and I kissed them too. I overheard the gentleman’s comment on Eddie’s unnatural affection for me and shook the thought aside. I was the closest thing he had to a mother and being separated from me caused him too much anxiety.

“Oh Eddie, I love you!” I exclaimed, selfishly happy he was back with me.

“Eddie wuvs you!” the child said softly before nestling into my welcoming arms once again.

Agnes had much to do with the other children so she instructed me to tend to Edmund. I gave him a pail with sweet milk and a buttered roll that he gobbled down immediately. He savored the tart green apple, letting the juices run down his chin, and holding it out to share with me.

A dozen children were adopted on that stop but more than half of us remained homeless so we pushed onward to the Dakotas. The conductor yelled “all aboard” setting us in a click clack motion that we were well accustomed to now.

Agnes approached me cautiously. “We have a slight problem.”

“Oh dear, I hope it doesn’t have to do with me, Sister.” I was afraid for Agnes was very serious.

“Well in fact it does. It seems Edmund simply can’t be placed without you. He was inconsolable, crying for you nonstop.” The nun gently fluffed Edmund's dark curls while he sucked his thumb trying to make sense of our conversation.

“Oh, Sister, do you mean it?” I asked. “Can we possibly be placed as siblings? That would be marvelous!” I might not have to become a nun like Sister Agnes; there still remained hope for me after all.

“It may be impossible, it’s difficult enough to find a home for a dark skinned toddler and red headed girl but we will try.” Agnes adjusted her cross and left us to reunite, a wistful expression crossing her face as she went.

The train rambled on a northwest route taking us through Wisconsin and Minnesota before stopping in North Dakota, then heading to South Dakota and continuing on through Nebraska and Kansas. We would eventually cross into Missouri, Kentucky, and wind our way back through Ohio, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York. But that took many weeks and everyone including Agnes was growing restless. Mr. and Mrs. Porter left us in the Dakotas as there were no babies left to tend. I would put braids in the little girls’ hair and we would sing Christian songs to keep the children entertained. The older boys played at checkers and cards and arm wrestled in the filthy boxcars, but many more jumped out of the train in an attempt at finding their own way.

As we approached Pennsylvania and New York Agnes spent her time finishing up paperwork for the children already adopted. She continued to make notations in her folders for those of us still available as well. One day while Agnes was bathing and dressing the elementary age children I found her notebook open and snooped.

I saw my name and it read:

“Mary is an insecure yet proud and capable girl of ten years old. On account of prior malnutrition she weighs approximately fifty-five pounds and is shorter than most her age. She has red hair that is growing out nicely after being shaved on account of lice. While she is able to launder and press clothing, she can also care for small children. If given the opportunity she would be best placed in a home with Edmund, if not as his care giver, then as a sibling.”

I sifted through the paperwork until I found Edmund's name.

Under his description were the words “underdeveloped”, “hopeless”, and “unusual attachment issues”.

That night I said a heartfelt prayer. I prayed to God and to my mama and da, I prayed to Edmund’s family and anyone else who would listen. I promised to be good, I promised to always take care of Edmund if only a family would come for us. I recited this prayer over and over hundreds of times before drifting into a fitful slumber.

The next morning we were greeted and paraded in front of the good people of Binghamton, New York. It was a small city several hour’s train ride from New York City and I was glad to be finishing our trip, but sad that so many of us remained.

Edmund and I were paying attention to ourselves when an older woman wearing a plaid dress and matching bonnet approached us. She smelled of verbena and powder and appeared to be in her late forties. This woman had no children of her own and spent her time as a volunteer for the library and hospital. Her husband was the local pharmacist and they were well off but not at all snooty like some other people we encountered on our sojourn. She spoke directly to me, asking if I liked to read, I told her about my first primer and Eddie and I sang her our ABCs. Eddie clapped his little hands together afterwords and the nice lady was smitten. A gentleman wearing a crimson vest and high top hat approached our group and began speaking to me.

“Why hello there, young lady, what is your name?” he inquired.

“I am called Mary.” I replied sheepishly.

“Mary, I am Johnathon Pearsall, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Tell me Mary, what is it you enjoy doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean sir, I always work hard and help look after the children, especially Eddie here. I don’t suppose I have time to enjoy much.” I scratched my head at the question and repositioned my pink headband so it wouldn’t slide down my forehead.

“Well that is a shame.” He admitted, shaking his head.

“My wife and I are more than happy to open our home to a young girl like yourself, someone with whom Edna could share her love of reading and sewing with.” The couple smiled warmly at one another.

I was overjoyed, for after months and months on the train a family finally wanted me. They actually wanted me as their own, not as an indentured servant. But I had Edmund to consider and remembered he was ‘hopeless’ without me.

“I would love to learn to read harder words sir, and I could also try hard to find patience for sewing, but I am afraid I have this little boy here to think of. He can’t seem to get by without me; he was adopted once already and returned.” With that admission I took Eddie’s plump fingers in my own and turned away from the couple defeated. I walked across the platform and settling my legs Indian style with Eddie positioned in my lap.

Eddie and I played a game of patty cake while we waited to re-board the train; however the couple approached us again.

“Dear, my name is Edna, and you remind me of someone I once knew. I would very much like to have you in our home.” She gentled me with her soft warm hands and said she might have a solution.

Her sister and husband lived nearby and might be interested in the small boy. If we could delay the train she would travel in her own buggy to get them and bring them to meet him. Edna explained that she and her sister both wanted children but neither was able to conceive. If we lived close to one another perhaps Eddie and I could thrive apart secure in the knowledge we were only a few miles away.

The opportunity for a real family overwhelmed me. I nearly wet my under drawers and could hardly speak. I was excited and fearful all at once and didn’t know how to express my feelings. I crossed my fingers for good luck and tapped at my leg, waiting impatiently for the family to come back. Several hours and introductions later, Eddie and I were adopted. The paperwork was signed and we hugged Agnes hard, said a tearful goodbye and left with the Pearsall family. Agnes promised to write me directly over the course of the year to be sure everything was going swell. I promised to keep up with my letters so that I could write her back myself.

Chapter 5 Binghamton, New York 1860

“Welcome to your new home, Mary.” Edna held my hand and Edmund wasn’t far behind as she ushered us through a grand Victorian house on the outskirts of Binghamton; it boasted six bedrooms, four brick laid chimneys and two baths, each with a claw foot tub to soak in. The home had gingerbread latticework along the roof-line and white siding. The floors and banisters were made from chestnut wood and large lead diamond-shaped patterns adorned the windows. The porch wrapped itself in a hug around the home culminating in a large foyer with chestnut columns. The center foyer led to a full kitchen in the back of the house that smelled heavily of freshly baked bread. I noted the orderliness of the room; clean aprons were hung on several decorative hooks across from the stove, pots and pans were stacked by task and size as well as the white porcelain dinnerware that lay across open shelving. Across the hall lay the ornate dining room and adjacent to that was my favorite room of all, the library. The entire room had floor to ceiling whitewashed bookshelves full to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes. Several over-sized leather chairs sat stoically upon a deep burgundy colored oriental carpet with a center medallion. They faced the back yard overlooking a bountiful garden boasting lilacs, daisies, roses, and more. The inviting chairs held soft blankets and fluffy pillows which Eddie and I sank into. Soon a tea service appeared with finger sandwiches and cookies. We ate our fill, chatting cautiously all the while with our new families, taking joy in the fact we were now cousins.

I was hard pressed to believe someone, even sweet generous Edna, would see fit to let children in her parlor with so many knick knacks and breakables around, it just wasn’t practical. Edmund didn’t have the same worries I did; he picked up the miniatures one by one and played with them as if they were his very own. I was afraid of breaking anything and being sent away so I kept my hands to my sides at all times and only looked with my eyes as my mother had told me on our sojourns into city shops.

Edna was perceptive and welcoming. She asked me which miniature I liked the best and when I told her I liked the ceramic pony she allowed me to have it against my protests. I carried it painstakingly up to my room on the second level and secured it on my dresser alongside my crystal lamp. I would admire it each morning when I woke and stroke the salty mane on the horse each night before bed. Edmund sulked when I was given a miniature pony and because he made such a fuss Edna allowed him to choose from her collected treasures also. He chose the rabbit with the pink floppy ears and cotton tail which I was certain was Edna’s favorite. Edmund objected to having just one because this rabbit came as a set which she herself made at a ceramics class. Selfishly, he wanted the rabbit who wore a blue bonnet as well as the one with pink ears. He needed to learn some manners. But for now everyone seemed to appease him when he cried and sulked, myself included. I was fearful Edmund would become spoiled and forget his manners.

Because Eddie and I weren’t separated right away he went more willingly to his new family, Samuel and Sarah Whitmoore. Samuel is a banker and Sarah, like her sister, spent her free time helping the people of Binghamton, New York. Both had acquired money and enjoyed a menagerie of fine things. They had oriental rugs and furnishings in every room, paintings, curtains, as well as both formal and every day dinnerware. I had never heard of such a thing. I reminisced about the cracked plates mama and I used to sup on and the threadbare sheet we hung for privacy across our single window in the slums.

Settling in was easy for me, I had never been so doted on before. My hair was tended by a hair dresser who softened my unruly spikes into curls for a more feminine look. My clothes were made by Edna’s personal dressmaker. The seamstress came over to my new home with a basket of youthful materials in a variety of colors and patterns, she held out her measuring tape and asked me what colors I liked while she measured my outstretched arms and took notes. I was given dolls and clothes to dress them with. Edna gave me my very own afghan. It was a lovely purple cotton yarn with red, pink and white stripes throughout that she knit herself. She promised to teach me to knit and thought that making a scarf for the upcoming winter season would be the perfect beginner project.

I treasured the afghan and hugged Edna tightly. “Thank you, Edna!” I cried out.

“Mary would you like to call me Mom?” she asked pensively.

I was confused, I had a mom and Edna wasn’t her. My tattered picture was safely tucked away in my top dresser drawer and I was tempted to pull it out and share it with Edna.

Sensing my distress, “Why don’t you call me Edna for now okay, dear? Perhaps later we will settle on a special name for me.”

I nodded in agreement. “We are supposed to forget, but I can’t say as I want to. I’m sorry, ma’am.” My knuckles tightened around the blanket and a small hole appeared where I was digging my fingers in anxiety.

Instead of getting scolded, Edna pulled me in for a grandmotherly hug. “I would never expect you to forget your family, Mary. Every step you have traveled has led you to us and we couldn’t be happier,” Edna smiled as she held me to her bosom.

I stood up from Edna’s embrace and opened my dresser, sifting through underwear until my hands found the photograph. I held the shreds out for Edna who pieced it together without any trouble.

“Oh my,” Edna clutched her chest, “your mother is just beautiful! And you look just like her!”

“Really, Edna, do you think so?” I asked.

“I certainly do, it’s not just the hair, but look at the eyes, and your smile, why it’s exactly like hers. What was her name?”

“Her name was Maura Anne Salt,” I stuttered.

“Well, I wish to say a special thank you to her every night in my prayers. Will that be okay with you?” she asked.

I assured Edna that it was okay and thought about her name, Maura and Mary weren’t so different. Yet the name “Mary” still felt uneasy to me; it wasn’t my real name after all. But for Edna I would try to accept it and her.

“Do you like it here Mary, with us?”

“O, Edna, I do, I really do.” I said earnestly. “I can’t think of a better place for me, or Eddie.”

Sarah and Samuel were smitten with Eddie. He still clung to me and cried for me to kiss his boo boos but more often now he could be distracted with new trucks and wooden toys. The first few days he and I shared a bed at Edna’s but by day three Eddie hugged me goodbye and went home with his new family who only lived one block away. I saw him for our breakfast meals; the sisters donned their aprons and cooked up a storm, feeding us johnnycakes with real maple syrup and chocolate pieces shaved on top. Eddie was cheerful and energetic and Sarah proved to be very patient with him. His cough was better for the time being and I hoped it didn’t prove to be too much trouble in the future.

After several weeks of living with my new family I became accustomed to our routines and rules of which there were few. I accompanied Edna on her daily errands and spent time in the local library where she volunteered. She allowed me to read from the children’s section and I wished I could bring one or two books home to share with Edmund. But the library did not yet have a system in place to circulate books. Once Edna realized how well I could read she decided I was settled enough into my new life that I could begin attending the elementary school in the city. In preparation we bought a new notebook and canvas bag to carry it in, two pencils, lunch pail and several new pairs of shoes to match my dresses and ribbons for my hair. For my first day I was to wear a cream colored dress with smocking across the bodice and red ribbon at my waist. My stockings were cream and my shoes were patent leather. A matching red headband was made to hold my hair out of my eyes. I was nervous because I had missed an entire year of learning, but I was also excited to make friends and to wear my new outfit, although I didn’t think the light color of my dress was practical for a child to wear. Mama and I always wore darker colors that didn’t show our stains.

Edna assured me I would like Miss Kate and after making proper introductions my first day she left me in her care. There were six rows of six wooden desks and chairs, making for thirty six students in my classroom. I was assigned a seat in the second row on my first day and sat fidgeting with my fingers whilst the remainder of the children filed in to begin the day’s lessons.

The blackboard at school had rhyming words like cat, hat, mat, and rat written across it. But when a young man was called upon to read them he quietly refused. The young man was called to the teacher’s desk where she took out a ruler and smacked his knuckles. Miss Kate cringed with each smack she doled out. But when the young man with curly brown hair turned back around and walked towards his seat, I screamed.

“Scotty!!!” The words were out of my mouth before I could scoop them back up; it was the most wonderful surprise I could have received. I beamed, jumped out of my seat and clapped my hands to my chest.

“Miss Mary, please do get a hold of yourself. I will give you some leeway as this is your first day, but such outbursts are not allowed in this classroom. Furthermore this is Matthew, not Scotty.” But I knew it was my best friend Scotty and he grinned from ear to ear because he knew it was me!

We could hardly wait until lunchtime and recess; we grabbed our lunch pails and ran towards one another in a huge embrace!

“I thought cholera got you!” I said to Scotty.

“Not a chance, but the Sisters did!” He chuckled, just like he used to back when we lived under the stoop in New York City.

“You have grown, your hair, it’s so curly now.” I said studying him. He was now twelve and had broad shoulders and appeared taller than other boys his age.

“Look at you, Tabit….” He let my real name trail before catching himself. “I mean Mary, is it? You’re still a shrimp. What happened anyway? I couldn’t find you, I looked everywhere, I even went to the Canter’s but they said you’d gone on the train. So I went to see the Sisters and ask, but they said you weren’t on it. The police were already after me for stealing and a few other things….so the Sisters gave me a choice, either I get on the train or I would be taken to a juvenile house of reform. I chose the train. ”

I explained to Scotty, or Matthew, as he was now called, that I spent time at the Home for Girls, but then ran away and went back to the stoop where I had slept alone the night after my mama died. I told him how I went door to door in search of work but couldn’t find any. I worried about him and the others dying from typhoid, or life on the streets, and he said he would’ve been more worried about me if he knew I was there alone. He said things had gotten pretty rough around the city and what happened to Karen was just the beginning. He said I was lucky I was left alone and not killed. The gangs were more pronounced and territorial, there was more theft and it was becoming scary even for him. When Scotty spoke about New York City his right eyebrow spasmed and he clenched his fists.

“A tough guy like you, scared?” I teased.

“Yeah, it was scary, even for a tough guy like me!” He grabbed my head into a cradle, dislodging my headband.

“So where do you live?” I asked hoping we lived close to each other so we could walk to and from school together.

“I live out past the mill at the Wright Farm, he kicked at the ground when he said ‘farm’. I knew what it meant. He had been adopted to help work a farm, not for love.

“Well at least you get to come to school. That’s lucky.” I encouraged while shading my eyes from the mid day’s sun.

“The Wright’s are good people; they prefer me to be educated so I can help keep the books one day. But you know me; I don’t have the patience for arithmetic. I am however good with my hands.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down at me as he held up his hands and put them into fists before pushing up his shirtsleeves and flexing his well-toned muscles.

“Right now I fix fences, do the whitewashing, and help feed the animals, that kind of thing,” he said.

He pulled butterscotch out from his pocket and handed it to me then, I opened it and popped it right into my mouth. It had been a long while since I had butterscotch and the memory of my mama brought tears to my eyes.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” he asked with a look of concern.

“It’s not that. Remember how I told you my mama had her teeth pulled? Well, I bought her butterscotch to suck on that’s all. It just made me think of her.” I pushed the thought far from my mind and looked up at my friend.

Scotty hugged me tight against his chest. “Everything will be all right now.” He said in my ear.

I believed him.

When school got out that day I grabbed Scotty’s hand and ran him over to my new mom, Edna, who was waiting for me with Eddie at the corner.

“Oh Edna, you’ll never guess!” I ran to envelop her with a hug.

Edna could see my joy and clapped her hands together. “Have you found a friend already?” she asked lightheartedly.

“It’s even better Edna, this is my old friend Scotty, from New York, and he was my best friend!” Scotty blushed at the endearment but I didn’t think anything of it, it was true, Scotty was the truest friend I ever had.

“Well that is splendid my dears! Scotty can you join us at the house for some milk and cookies and you can tell me how you two are acquainted?”

“I sure would like to ma’am, but I have to get back to the Wright Farm and do my chores. But thank you for the offer.” He was very polite, making me feel curiously proud.

With that he gave me a soft nudge in the upper arm and said, “See you tomorrow, Red!” I guess that was his new nickname for me and I liked it, it was fitting.

Scotty headed off in the opposite direction from town and Edna and I swung Eddie between our arms on the way home. It was a splendid day indeed and not just because of my shiny new shoes.

“So, my dear, how was school?” Edna was filled with anticipation and pulled a chair right up next to me so we could have a good chat. Eddie played with the frosting on his cookie and listened intently as well.

“It was just the best day ever, Edna! The teacher, Miss Kate, she is smart and kind, and keeps the kids in line if I do say so myself.” I thought of the classroom rules posted on the black board.

Edna gave a chuckle under her breath when I said this but I knew after spending time with Agnes on the train just how hard this was.

“She advanced me to the fourth grade primer and said I would catch up to the others in no time. Why she even said I could help with the smaller children from time to time if I wanted, it seems they like me, I guess.” I hunched my shoulders and nodded to Eddie who gave me a big frosting grin that I kissed right off his little gooey lips!

“I have some homework though, best be getting to that I suppose. I have to read and write all the words I can think of that rhyme with ball and bat, and I have to do it in my very best handwriting. I even get to learn cursive!” I finished my cookies and milk and swept my crumbs onto my plate before bringing it to the sink.

“Why don’t you go into the library dear, and close the door so you can work in peace.” She cleaned the dishes and walked Eddie home to be with his mother, Sarah.

School progressed well and before the year’s end I had advanced to the fifth grade primer. Scotty had a difficult time juggling his studies with farm work; he grew frustrated and stomped out the weeds at recess explaining to me that he didn’t have time to do any homework once school let out on account of his farm work. But not doing his homework got him put into a corner at school and was purely humiliating. He wanted to learn his letters but it came harder for him than others, he got his letters all jumbled up and confused and found reading very difficult. At the farm he worked so hard he was dog-tired in class and keeping his eyes open was difficult. The true realization was that he had to work in order to receive room and board.

“Let me help you, Scotty, since you have always helped me. I used to live on a farm; I could do the milking while you fix the fence posts, then with what time we saved I can teach you letters. It could work; we at least have to try.”

Scotty shook out his curls which had now grown past his ears. “What do you mean you lived on a farm, all I ever knew was that you lived in tenement housing, Red.”

“Well, you don’t know everything then do you?” I grinned at him and we made a deal that I would help him two days a week as long as Edna and Pap agreed it was okay.

That night I sat down with Edna and Pap and described Scotty’s situation. I asked if I might be able to help somehow. I was sure to say how Christian it would be. They expressed their concerns to me that maybe I shouldn’t spend so much time worrying about Scotty but when they saw the tears well in the corners of my eyes they said they would give it some thought. They wanted to come to terms with how important Scotty was to me but they were also trying to put my old life behind me. They told me this very delicately as they expressed concern over my past. Some nights I woke crying and it was always Edna who rushed to my bedside reassuring me when my dreams were wrought with images of a dying mother, blood, teeth, or anything else my mind conjured.

I wondered if I should tell them my real name and my real story but worried they would no longer want me. The Sisters of Charity brainwashed us that we were to forget our sorry pasts and move forward as God so graciously wanted and provided for us. I froze that part of myself in time, numbed my feelings and looked forward.

Edna promised that nothing from my past could change the love they already felt for me and that it would endear them to me even more. But they also told me it was up to me what I wanted to share and that they understood that some stories were too painful to be reenacted. They didn’t tell me then but later I realized they must have been frightened for the life Scotty had lived before now as well. Come to think of it, I didn’t know the life Scotty had lived before the stoop in The Five Points either.

Edna and Pap agreed I could help Scotty for one afternoon a week and he could come to our house for a few hours on Sunday after church. I was delighted by this agreement and couldn’t wait to see and smell the farm where Scotty lived.

When he showed me his bunk after school I was humbled. Scotty lived in the hayloft directly above the horses along with two older lads who did not attend school. At the moment they were in the field, which is why he could sneak me in. The room was clean enough but it was also barren of color and life. The animal stench was bearable, fresh hay stood in the corner by his pallet, which helped mask the smell of the manure; luckily he said it wasn’t his job to muck the stalls. He had a brown woolen blanket neatly folded at the foot of his cot and on that was the Bible he received from the Sisters nearly a year ago. A rug sat aside his bed for his boots and he had a nail in the wood for his trousers and night clothes but aside from a small washbasin the boys shared that was all. He never complained either and felt lucky to have a place to hang his hat.

“Excepting that you don’t have a hat,” I said.

“Well, it’s good enough for me, now let me show you the grounds and the fences that need tending,” he said without complaint.

“Okay, but first can I see the horses?” I missed Oliver at that moment.

“I had a horse named Oliver once, he was a beauty!” I remembered feeding him apples and carrots and the way my da would heft me up onto her back and lead us in a slow jaunt around the fields.

We climbed down from Scotty’s quarters towards the stalls where a chestnut pony caught my eye as he swished a midge with his tail. “This one here looks a little like Olly as a matter of fact.”

“Gosh, I never took you for a cowgirl, Red.” Scotty wiggled a piece of straw between his teeth and did a goofy side step dance.

“I was not a cowgirl but I loved the farm.” I ruminated on how peaceful the farm routine was and described the scene to my friend. My da was up before the rooster’s crow to milk the cows and muck out the stalls of Oliver and our two sows. He sprinkled grains in the chicken house but let me collect the eggs. I was real quiet and slow about collecting the eggs because Harriett, our hen, was fanatical about anyone in her house. She would squawk and nip and bite at me until I left. Mama schooled me in my letters and at night, Da would teach me my numbers. Our place was real nice and quiet, we were a happy family.”

“That sure sounds nice,” Scotty encouraged me to go on with my story.

“Then Da fell off the ladder in the hayloft one morning before chores and died instantly. Mama stayed in bed for two days straight. We had a few neighbors that came to check on our plight and offer help but we declined on account of pride. Luckily the women brought casseroles so we had something substantial to eat while Mama put her plan together. The first plan was that we would work the farm the way my da did. We tended the livestock and harvested crops that would be shipped via the Sound to New York City but when it came time to plow the fields for planting the work was too difficult and our neighbors were busy with their own fields. Mama made the decision to sell the animals and move us in closer to the city where she could work as a laundress. We didn’t have any family nearby so this was the best solution. “

I saw that I still held Scotty’s interest so I continued.

“The cows were getting on in age so we didn’t fetch more than a few dollars for them apiece, the sows we sold to the butcher and the hens to a neighbor. We hired a coach and brought our table, our mattresses, hand woven rugs, pots pans and clothes with us when we moved. If we needed anything else we would have to dip into our savings and buy it.”

“What happened to Oliver?” Scotty asked

“Shucks, I am not sure if I know. All I remember is feeding him apples one day and the next he was gone.” A tear trickled down my eye and Scotty reached over to wipe it.

“Well then what happened to you and your mama? I guess I never thought to ask before.” Scotty had a look of concern that I hadn’t seen across his face before now.

“Mama found us an apartment in the tenement building in Five Points. She didn’t want to live there but it’s all we could afford. Our place had its own window in the peak of the roof line that let us look out into the city. Initially, we shared one bedroom and had our own small kitchen area and enough room for our table and the matching chairs that my da made. We spread our most colorful rug under the table to catch any crumbs and keep the dirt less noticeable and we spread our lighter rug under our mattress so in the morning when our feet hit the floor they weren’t met with the cold.” I thought about how much mama and I missed my da then. But thankfully my mama was smart and strong and not afraid of hard work.

Scotty never interrupted my story so I continued. “We went from store to store and introduced ourselves around town and down on the docks to anyone we saw, we told them we would do laundry and we would do it better and cheaper than anyone else in town. We had a few dollars saved in our hidden pouch and could rely on the kindness of folks at the Mission if we became desperate. But mama didn’t want to beg or be in anyone’s debt. We did laundry for strangers, we worked hard at it too because we were to be the best laundresses in town. That’s about all, you know the rest. My mama died from her teeth problems and then fate brought me to you.” We stared hard at each other for a moment each searching the other out.

“Wow, I didn’t know your mama had such big balls! That takes a lot of guts to do what she done, moving with you to the city and working so hard without a man.” Scotty rudely grabbed himself before I punched him square in the arm.

“Don’t need any man to get along. We got along fine though we missed our da.”

“Oh yeah, Red? Don’t need no man, well how you gonna get along without the likes of these two, huh?” And with that he rolled up his sleeves and flexed his muscles at me and we both laughed and felt better.

That’s what I liked best about Scotty. He knew how to lighten the mood and make me feel better and his muscles were pretty impressive.

Scotty and I worked Mondays laying out fresh hay for the cows that stood around us ankles caked in mud browsing for tender shoots. When that chore was complete we spent time white washing the fading fence surrounding the pasture. Edna lent me a pair of Pap’s old grey trousers and I wore suspenders to keep them up. We worked well together, Scotty on one side of the fence and me on the other, painting and chanting our letters and rules such as “I before E, except after C”. After our allotted time, Scotty would walk me the two miles to town and Edna would meet me and exchange niceties with Scotty before we all went towards home. On Sundays Scotty worked directly with Edna on his school work and then he and I had a little time to enjoy playing before he had to get back to the farm for milking. We always included Eddie in our play and it was pure joy and simple fun. We would make bubble potion and see who could blow the most from one wand, or sometimes we would play kick the can or tag, and we always let Eddie win or he would sulk.

One Sunday afternoon after Edna tutored Scotty she took notice how he strained to focus on the written words in front of him and asked if he would be willing to go for an eye exam with her. He agreed and low and behold he was near blind in one eye, which explained some of his reading difficulties. He was fitted for a pair of glasses and suddenly everything was clear and precise to him as it had never been before.

“How can I repay you, Miss Edna?” Scotty asked earnestly, offering up his allowance of twenty five cents per week.

“This is my gift to you; you are very special to Mary so I am happy to help you.” Edna took Scotty’s glasses and placed them carefully in the case. She reached out to hug him then and he selflessly thought how happy he was that Mary had someone so loving to look out for her now. Her story was sad, she never cried in the telling of it, although she choked up a few times when talking about her pony and the table her da made. She was a thick-skinned kid; he admired her and was glad to call her a friend. The kids in town were mostly spoiled so to have someone else who knew what it was like to live in rags among the dregs of society and steal for food was of some comfort.

Chapter 6 Scotty in New York City

Autumn in New York City was putrid. The cold rain pelting my skin, sinking into my bones was bad enough, but the streets were littered with shit and piss and the rain watered it down, making all the crap thin out and run in torrents through the streets. Rabid dogs ran wild and crapped anywhere they pleased, horses were tied to banisters where they stood in inches of sludge. Rats got tangled under your feet and the city smelled of a cesspool. At night we had to huddle close under our stoop on Mulberry Street or else the drunks would splatter us with their vomit. Bars got out late, brawls happened in the streets, there were shoot outs and people lay dead or passed out in ditches. The daytime was better; we each had morning jobs and then hid out in one old factory, brewery or another.

I inhabited the stoop with Karen and Tommy.

Gangs of Five Points were deadly and had taken to fighting for amusement. They would rally chickens and starve them in separate cages before setting them loose in a pit to peck each other to death. They did the same with rats and the half-starved dogs that wandered the streets, enticing them with scraps of food into a caged ring where they had to fight for their life. The animals were kicked, whipped, abused and neglected by members who soon grew bored and looked to have more authentic cage fights. Members soon offered themselves up in fights in order to make a profit.

I watched a few fights while hiding behind crates in the Brewery. I spent my days off the streets hiding to avoid trouble but now it seemed trouble had found me.

“What do we have here?” A scraggly young man with three earrings and long strands of greasy hair grabbed me by the back of my shirt lifting me up off my feet.

“He asked who you were,” a second punk with very few teeth hacked a blood tinged loogie right at my feet.

“I’m Scotty.” I tried to make a run for it, but the second gangster caught me.

“Well Scotty, what are you are doing here? You spying on us for them Dead Rabbits?” The guy pushed me and was egged on by his mate.

“You better hope you ain’t, kid….” The second man spit again.

“Nnno, I just didn’t have anywhere to go.” I stammered as I spoke.

The boys looked me over; witnessing my state of poverty they took me to “Pauli” who would know what to do with me.

Pauli was well dressed and slightly older than the men who found me; he had all his teeth intact and I guessed he was in his late twenties or early thirties. Around his neck lay a thick gold chain and down his forearms were the words Roach Guards tattooed in black ink.

“What’s your story, kid?” Pauli looked at me with amused eyes.

“I got no story,” I told him, looking down at my worn shoes, feeling lucky to have any at all.

“Where do you work, kid, you gotta eat right? So where do you earn your money?”

“I sell the newspaper on Sunday morning and steal the rest.” I was scanning the exits for an easy escape as I spoke.

“So what are you doing here in this old place, huh? This is our territory, you spying on us? Who are you working for?” Pauli spun the pistol that sat on his desk and when it stopped the barrel of the gun was pointing right at me. His tattoo appeared to be getting bigger as he flexed his muscles in anger, spittle ran down his chin but he didn’t notice or care.

“I don’t work for no one, sir. I told you, I sell papers and hide out, that’s all I do.” Besides watch you guys abuse and torture animals all day I thought to myself.

“Well, there, Scotty, you put me in a bad situation. If I believe you and let you go, you could go back to where you came from and report all you seen. On the other hand you could prove useful, how long you been hiding here?”

“I’ve been here a few weeks I suppose, but I haven’t seen anything, I swear.” This wasn’t entirely true.

“So you been here for two weeks and we haven’t noticed you until now?” Pauli rubbed his whiskers, noticing the spittle and wiping it on his pants.

“Here’s my proposition. I am going to believe you; you’re too stupid to lie because you know if you lie to us we have to punish you, right?” Pauli shuffled the papers in front of him and stacked them neatly in the corner of the desk.

I hated being threatened.

“Right,” I said, answering his taunt honestly.

“You’re going to work for me now. You’re gonna spy on the Dead Rabbits and tell us who they got over there training to fight. See I need to know who to put up against them, gotta know who to get ready, who to feed, and who to keep hungry.”

Pauli laid out a plan for me starting with quitting my paper sales job. I was to report to him every afternoon and in return he would give me dinner. If I didn’t show up, they would come after me. I had to find the Dead Rabbits hide out and then weasel my way in.

The first day I didn’t find anything, I checked the paper warehouse, the mill, and the grocer’s warehouse but found nothing and no one of interest. I was terrified to report back to Pauli without any news.

“You may have to go further across town, kid; the Dead Rabbits know we inhabit this turf they wouldn’t be too close to us. Try the shoe factory, and the building on Second Street that looks like it’s collapsing.”

Pauli gave me half his sandwich and I ate it greedily, scared to death of what I would find in the morning across town.

First, I sauntered around the shoe factory; the back portion was closed off but I noted that for its size it could easily fit a gang of a dozen or so men training to fight. I made my way through a side entrance and snuck through the building; everything was quiet. I sat in a corner behind scraps of materials used for making shoes and waited. There was one round table in the room and cards strewn about the floor, more than likely this place was used for gambling. I waited some more. By mid-day no one had come into the factory and there was no evidence anyone had been in there to train. I decided there was enough time to check out the collapsing building Pauli told me about on Second Street.

In this section of town only the poorest of the poor remained. The building was in ruins, partially collapsed from sewage and farm run off. Tenants of this section were riddled with disease from the unclean quarters they lived in. The smell alone could knock someone off their feet.

I pinched my nose and entered the building, terrified it would collapse or I would catch a disease while I was inside. First, I walked the narrow perimeter hallways and neither heard nor saw anything that led me to believe the Dead Rabbits were here. But as I made my way closer to the interior of the building the smell changed. It went from one of sewage and filth to one of pungent male body odor. I followed my nose and came upon a makeshift gym. There were several squares partitioned off with rope and lying in a corner were rolls of hand tape, jump ropes, free weights, and in the far corner was a punching bag. It was held to the ceiling with a clamp and thick links of chain that I thought looked heavy enough they could bring the entire building down on itself.

My stomach was growling but I had to stay awhile longer to see what happened in this gym.

Several hours later a group of gangly kids were paraded into the gym and taunted by much bigger, fit looking kids. The ruffians were lined up by size and put into rows. They started warm ups with a stretching routine, then they punched into the air above their heads while doing high knees. If they let up and dropped their arms from exhaustion they were met with a swift punch to the gut. Following the initial warm up routine the kids were separated, some went to work on the boxing bag while others grabbed jump ropes, and still others met in the roped off rings with their trainers and worked on impressive combinations. I could hear the trainers yelling, uppercut, jab, right hook, left hook, and jab and began to put the movement with the words. I noted the foot placement for each punch and heard the trainers yelling that ‘proper foot placement gave your punch more power’.

I was terrified of being found in the gym snooping. I settled myself in a corner in the rafters with a good bird’s eye view of the scene below. There were a total of fifteen scrawny kids presumably being taught to fight. They seemed to range in age anywhere from six to sixteen. There were five trainers. Each trainer worked with their own group of kids, some were better at floor work, and others excelled at head and body movement. Still other trainers excelled on the punches themselves. All together they were a formidable opponent for Pauli.

I thought about hiding out here from now on. Pauli would never come here to find me. It would be too dangerous for the Roaches to enter this side of town. My stomach growled again and I began to feel sick with hunger, which reminded me who was feeding me tonight. As the kids finished their training, dried off with towels and left I was intrigued that the five trainers stayed behind. The five trainers got in the ring with each other and sparred. They went for two minute rounds, no head gear, no gloves, just themselves and their opponent. No one held back. They fought hard in two minutes using footwork and combinations to score points. Blood flowed freely from one fighter’s nose down his chest, causing me to gag. When the two minute bell rang the fighters shook hands and the one with the bloody nose shoved cotton up his nostrils and carried on. Two more kids got in the ring and fought and this continued until each kid had fought everyone for two minutes. Blood from smashed faces pooled on the floor, knuckles were split open and bleeding, the men were glistening with sweat but none of the fighters were winded, unlike the kids earlier. These young men were in shape. They knew what they were doing and it made me fearful for my life. I shrunk further into the corner and closed my eyes, hoping if I couldn’t see them that the reverse would be true as well. After another hour or so of jumping ropes and lifting weights the five men finally left the gym area. I was reluctant to get down from this hiding spot and sneak out of the building and had no idea what time it was.

I thought of Karen and Tommy then. I wished I could go back to them without putting them in danger of the Roaches who would look for me if and when I didn’t show up. I wondered if they were safe and feared that if Tommy was caught by these thugs and forced to fight he would surely lose. Tommy was all talk; inside he was just a fearful kid trying to get by one day at a time like the rest of us.

I climbed down, taking my time and finding my way out of the now dark but always dank building. I made my way across town and finally found the brewery that housed the Roaches and went directly to Pauli’s office.

“Where the hell were you? Huh, you fucking punk?” The greasy guy who helped Pauli was raving mad.

“I asked you a question, you little shit, you better speak up.” He had crossed the room and grabbed me by my shirt collar.

“Jesus, Squid, you’re gonna scare the shit out of the kid, let him go.” Pauli interjected.

“I found them.” That’s all I had to say before the goons released me and were told to get me something to eat.

After I ate, I recounted everything I saw right down to the blood stained floors.

“Come with me kid.” Pauli led me to a section of the factory that I hadn’t been in before.

He pushed open a large metal door and I was hit immediately by the stench of body odor and blood. I looked around and saw a gym that was similar to the one the Rabbits used to train. This gym had a punching bag and another smaller bag that I later learned was a speed bag. Several squares were taped off on the floor and free weights, jump ropes, and other equipment I didn’t recognize lay in piles.

Fighters were in the midst of training. It was a smaller number of kids but because this gym also had five trainers the boys got more personal attention. Here they not only focused on offensive training but on defensive training, ducking the punch, bobbing and weaving, and dancing around the floor. These fighters looked lighter on their feet, although I was no expert.

“Tell me, what do you see? What are the differences between their gym and mine?” Pauli nudged me forward.

“I think you have more stuff, like that small bag over there, they don’t have that.” I looked around for more differences.

“That’s called a speed bag kid. It helps develop your rhythm and give you quick hands.”

“You have fewer rings, they have four marked off. You only have two.” I wasn’t sure if that mattered but it was a difference.

“You also have fewer kids in training but the ones you have seem stronger. Their kids look like they’re hungry but I mean they really look starved. I swear I could count their ribs if I was close enough.”

“Hmmm, they must have a new group fresh off the streets. They round up kids and offer them protection if they’ll fight. Then they feed them when they win and starve them when they don’t.”

“Well I think your guys would win, if the fight was now that is.” I hesitated to tell him what I was thinking.

“Go on kid.” Pauli encouraged me to tell more.

“Well, they have five trainers and they are tough, they never even looked tired after sparring. I think they might be in better shape than some of your trainers.”

Pauli looked around the room. Several of his trainers were carrying extra weight around the middle and that ended today.

“Okay kid, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to make a list of all my guys and trainers and tomorrow you’re going back over there.”

I flinched at the thought and Pauli saw this.

“I only need you to spy once in a while, before a big fight. I have a lot riding on our next fight. It’s in ten weeks and we stand to either make a lot of money or lose a lot of money. Understand?”

“What am I supposed to do over there?” I asked, fumbling with my coat button.

“I want you to take our list and make some physical notations about each of their guys, are they lefty, do they have a strong right, how is the defense , who is quick, who is slow, who could knock us out in one punch. Got it?” he asked, waiting for my reply.

“I think so. But how does this help you?” I wondered out loud.

“You leave that to me, kid, once I know their strengths and weaknesses I can better prepare my team.”

Pauli had softened a bit, he told me I did a good job and set me up with a cot and blanket in a room far away from the gambling scene.

In the morning I woke up and pissed off the window ledge before heading to the other side of town. I took my time, checked my back to make sure no one was following me when finally the collapsing building was in view. I watched the building for activity before sneaking towards the entrance. No one was in sight; it was quiet. I snuck in and made my way through the narrow hallway until I reached the rafters. I hunkered down and waited. I waited for hours until anything happened and my stomach was already growling from hunger. I didn’t get breakfast from Pauli who was still asleep when I left and couldn’t beg any on my way over. I checked garbage cans but only found last night’s vomit and watery shit on the streets, which did not inspire my appetite.

After too many hours several kids came into the gym. They were already sweating and it appeared they had been running. A few of them were holding their stomachs as if they had cramps and one was puking in a bucket.

“Damn, five miles before noon. That’s harsh, man.” It was the red headed kid who puked and complained. He was scrawny, but tall, five feet, eight inches, maybe a buck ten.

“Quit your bitching before I get you a skirt you pansy.” A short dark skinned kid who I didn’t recognize from last night whipped him with a towel.

The group stood around waiting and finally one of last night’s trainers walked in.

“Time to spar, fellas.” He matched the boys into pairs and had them going in two of the four rings.

The red headed kid was lanky and his arms had a long reach. He didn’t look strong but when he punched his opponent with his left, the kid stumbled. I wrote this down.

The kid with the darker skin was slow. He had no footwork and kept his hands up in defense exposing his body. I wrote this down too.

The ink from the steel pen Pauli gave me tickled my nose. I stifled a sneeze but before I could stop myself I let out another one. All the fighters stopped what they were doing and looked around. I shrunk further into the corner and prayed.

The trainer looked around the gym and gathered the boys closer to him. They all dispersed and I thought I got lucky. Then I realized the trainer sent them to investigate the sneeze. I heard footsteps climbing the rafters and pissed myself.

“Gotcha.” The red headed boy pulled me up from my crouch and dragged me down the short set of stairs throwing me in front of his trainer.

“Well, well. What do we have here? Search him boys.” The boys patted me down and found nothing. I was smart enough to hide my notes under a wooden slat in my hide out.

“Who are you and what the fuck are you doing here?” The trainer asked with venom.

“I jjjust didn’t have anywhere to go.” I hoped my prior excuse with Pauli would hold up.

“You really expect me to believe that shit, kid? Someone’s been feeding you. My guess is you’re spying.” He wiped his brow.

“No, I swear, I am not spying, I don’t know where to go, the gangs, they are getting bad. I found the building and snuck in, that’s all.” Before I could continue the trainer started using me as a punching bag.

“Well as long as you’re here now, I guess we’ll just have to use you as our punching bag today.” He started on my body.

Then the red headed boy stepped in and the trainer watched as he lunged at my face. I ducked several, but with his friends cheering him on he went at me hard, landing several uppercuts to my chin, and busting my lip wide open. I doubled over in pain but the boy didn’t stop. He went for my ribs and I fell to the floor in agony.

Next up a scrawny little kid, maybe six or seven started kicking my back numerous times before stepping over my body and kicking me right in the balls making me nauseous instantly. He had absolutely no remorse and I thought if any of them did, it would be him. The rest of the boys all got their turn with me. I stood back up and tried against one or two of them. They laughed at me and my piss stain. I had no training and was not in shape. I could taste my blood and for a minute I felt vengeful and attacked with flailing arms but this only made them laugh harder at me. Next thing I knew I was in the ring with four kids bouncing me between them and then it was lights out.

I was in and out of consciousness all night, when I finally came to I was petrified. I didn’t recognize where I was but it was inside someone’s house. I could hear snoring and the place reeked of booze. I tried to stand up but it hurt just to breathe. I was sure I had broken ribs among other things. I forced myself to sit upright and stripped the sheet off the bed, tied it around my waist for support and stood up. I wobbled.

Out of nowhere I hear someone say, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, dipshit?”

I must have been knocked out again because when I woke up next the five trainers were staring me down.

They pulled me up and out of bed against my protests. I had dried blood everywhere from my mouth, to my ears, to my nose, my balls were swollen, and walking was nearly impossible.

They dragged me back to the infamous gym that I had become familiar with yesterday and centered me amongst them.

“Now you’re going to tell us what the fuck you’re doing here, aren’t you?” One trainer with bulging biceps stepped forward before landing a punch right to my gut, knocking the wind out of me.

“Stop, please.” I cried like a baby

“We don’t stop until you tell the truth.” Trainer number two stepped up with a right hook to my jaw that sent several of my teeth flying and blood gushing from my mouth.

They tied my hands behind my back and kept on going, taking their turn landing punches over my already broken body.

“Tell us!” someone screamed.

I refused to give in. They could kill me if they wanted but I knew if I told them about Pauli I was as good as dead anyway.

My eyes were so swollen I could no longer see, I fell to the ground, so they took turns holding me up while others continued to beat me. I passed out and woke up while a new group of kids, some scrawny, some well into their training began to assault me all over again, a lesson, I suppose, against mercy.

I was dragged unconscious to the bed I slept in the night before and again woke to the smell of my own piss and the group of trainers peering over me.

“What are we gonna do with you, huh?” One asked.

“We could beat you to death I suppose.” Another answered with a throaty laugh.

“Just to be fair, let’s give you one more chance.” The trainer held up a knife presumably for inspiration. I thought for sure he was going to take off my ears.

My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in two days and the blood pooled and drained into my stomach making me nauseous.

“Need a drink?” One of the trainers held up a glass of water and I felt gratitude until he splashed the water into my face forcing me to jerk back in pain.

They dragged me back to the gym and repeated the beatings; I passed out numerous times because the pain was too great to handle. Everything felt broken, everything but my spirit. I went to a place in my mind, a square shaped room that was quiet and red and had a metal chair in the corner. I sat in that chair and plotted my revenge. I listened to the sound of the assailants’ voices as they pummeled me and committed them to memory; I noted their accents and what they called each other. This quiet place was mine. They could hit me over and over but it was still there and they couldn’t take it from me. I sat in my corner; I took the punches, the kicks, the broken bones, the gushing blood, the puss and gunk that pooled in the corners of my mouth and eyes. I listened. I took it and waited.

The next time I woke, I tried desperately to sit up and gather myself. Although I hadn’t had any nourishment or drink in days I had to piss. It nearly killed me to sit up and I let out a yelp.

“Hey, kid, sit back down.” It was Pauli.

I sat back down and tried to open my eyes but they were still swollen shut. I tried to talk but my jaw wasn’t working and I felt metal in my mouth.

“Let me do the talking for now kid. You’re damn lucky to be alive, you know that?” Pauli sat next to the bed his voice sounding tired and worried.

“Remember Squid, the guy who found you lurking in the brewery? Well he found you near dead in a ditch across town. He was out recruiting and I’ll be damned if I know how but he recognized you. He ran all the way back here and swore you were breathing so we sent out our guys and they brought you back. That was three days ago.”

I tried to mumble a reply but it was no good.

“All you’re going to do right now is heal. My wife is looking after you.” I could hardly believe Pauli had a wife.

“She is good at this so let her okay?” with that he patted my leg and left, was it remorse I heard in his voice?

I slept for the better part of the day but woke to the gentle stroke of a warm cloth across my forehead.

“You were screaming in your sleep and we don’t want the wires to come out.” She continued with the warm cloth and held it to my eyes for several moments.

“Your jaw was broken in several places. We had it wired shut so it will heal faster. I am going to try giving you liquids later, doctor’s orders.” She left my side and came back with a fresh cloth.

“My name is Candy by the way. Well, it’s Candice but everyone calls me Candy.” I winced at the slightest movement of the bed.

She kept heading south with the cloth and I was mortified that she might be giving me a sponge bath on my privates. I instinctively moved my legs closer together and she gave a little chuckle at that.

“Oh honey, I’ve seen it all!” Candy laughed, placing an ice pack on my scrotum to reduce the swelling.

“In a few days you will be able to open your eyes and eat liquids without my help, soon, the swelling will go down on your fists and arms and legs. You were really battered. You have several broken ribs which is why you have tape around your chest.”

She sniffled a bit but quickly regained her composure.

“Now is a good time to rest,” she rubbed my hair and left the room.

I went back to the quiet place in my mind, the walls were still red and the same chair sat in the corner with me in it. I plotted and thought of all the ways I would have my revenge, starting with becoming a Roach Guard.

As the days went by the swelling did go down and I could see my surroundings finally. I was in a room off the gym and apparently all the guys had sworn revenge on my honor. The first day I was up and around with Candy’s help, she walked me to the gym and the guys cheered upon seeing me up.

I was anxious to get the metal out of my mouth and could feel the gap in my teeth where I lost several. I took to writing Candy notes; I asked when the metal was coming out, what day it was, how she met Pauli? If only I could meet someone like Candy one day. She was patient and kind and had a gentle touch.

The following week I went back to the surgeon’s, he doused me with something on a cloth and when I woke the wire was out of my jaw. I was afraid to speak at first, afraid of the pain and the jaw movement. But because I was so young the healing took place quickly and I was talking and eating within weeks.

Pauli sat me down and apologized to me profusely. Then he asked me to recall what I could from the incident.

I told him exactly what happened and described to him the beatings in detail. He winced and even cried at one point when I told him about the quiet place in my mind.

“Thank you, Pauli. You saved my life.” I was grateful.

“No, I endangered your life by sending you over there and Candy will never forgive me for that. She is right, you were too young and I put you in harm’s way.”

“But you found me. You didn’t know if I was spying on you first but you decided to have faith in me. You saved me.”

I didn’t quite know how to ask to become a member of one of the most notorious gangs in New York but it’s all I could think about now.

Pauli caught me looking at his tattoo and said, “Don’t even think about it kid. Candy would kill me.”

“I need my revenge.” I punched his desk and stood up pacing.

“I want to kill those mother fuckers for what they did to me. Do you know that after they beat me, they took turns pissing on me?” I looked Pauli directly in the eye ashamed to admit this.

“They spat on me, they threw booze into my fresh wounds, and laughed when I winced. I need to find a way to settle this; I will never forgive myself if I don’t. I want to settle it in the ring.” I had thought about it. I could train and learn to fight; I was light on my feet and was strong for my age and size.

“So you want to be a fighter, huh? “ Pauli was a little surprised by my determination.

“Yes. I want to fight.” I was adamant.

Now it was Pauli’s turn to pace.

“You’ll start tomorrow. Now get a good night’s sleep.” He held the door for me and I left the office with nothing but revenge and blood-lust on my mind.

Later I heard Pauli and Candy arguing about me, Candy said I was too young, but Pauli apparently knew what it meant to be full of vengeance and the visceral need to get even.

Training was physically challenging but my body was healing and growing stronger. I was expected to run daily, I ate a diet of lean meats and vegetables. I lifted weights and could practically feel my muscles ripping and mending with each curl. I studied the trainers’ movements, the foot placement, and the way I should pivot in order to get the most power.

“Stick and move, Scotty!” The trainers for the Roaches drilled this in my head.

I worked relentlessly on the speed bag, finding my own rhythm, developing confidence. Within weeks I was ready to spar, propelled forward in my training from my ordeal, I did well in the ring. I learned how to duck a punch and come back with a one two combination of my own. I learned defense but it was the offensive moves that got me the most excited. I loved fighting. It was a release for me and Pauli said I was a natural. I fought with everything I had. I released the anger I had pent up for being left to fend for myself by my parents. I fought against the grueling, poverty stricken city I lived in, I fought for all the kids that were bullied, but more than anything I fought to prepare for my revenge. I was suddenly full of hatred and the anger in me fed me and kept me alive. Without my vengeance I was just a kid sweeping storefronts and scraping for food on the street corner.

The fights were scheduled and the gym was buzzing with excitement and testosterone. Our fighters encouraged each other with slaps to the back when someone exhibited skill.

I didn’t understand how these gangs that hated each other so much could bear to be in the same room without killing each other. Pauli explained to me that the rules were set in stone. No weapons were allowed in the arena. Judges were not necessary because the fights went until knock out or forfeit. They were scheduled on neutral territory and were not announced until the day of the fight to keep the police away. A boy from one team would go into the ring and anyone could go out and challenge him to the fight. They were not previously matched up. The fights were bare knuckles, no gloves, no tape, just the raw power from the fists.

“Yo, kid,” one of the trainers called to me later that afternoon, “Pauli wants to see you in his office.”

“How are you doing, Scotty?” Pauli seemed sincere in his concern for me.

“I’m ready.” Perhaps I was over confidant but I didn’t need moves when I had so much venom pulsing through my veins.

“You know, kid; the boys that tormented you might not even be at the fight. You saw them months ago; who knows what may have happened to them during that time. You might be fighting complete strangers, you sure you want to do this?” I noticed Pauli’s scuffed dress shoes and thought about the tough guy image he presented to everyone besides me and Candy.

“I am doing this for me, putting them to shame no matter who it is. Match me up with their best fighter, I don’t care I’ll rip him to shreds.” My anger was palpable.

“Yeah and what if he rips you to shreds? I can’t stop the fight. You know that right?”

“You won’t need to, Pauli, I got this. After I win, I want in.” I stared right into his eyes when I said this.

“In what, kid?” Pauli raised his eyebrows in question.

“I want in the Roaches. You saved me from the streets and saved my life when you could have left me in that ditch to die. I don’t have any family, I don’t have any place to go, and this is my life now.”

Pauli was going to launch into a lecture about the Roaches’ history as well as all the other notorious gangs in the Five Points, but decided instead to trust me.

“You got sand, kid, you know that? But I have been thinking, can you keep a secret?” He fingered his tattoo as he spoke.

“Sure Pauli, what is it?” I was intrigued.

“Well Candy and I are expecting a baby!” Pauli’s smile was huge, showing off his pearly white teeth.

“Wow, Pauli, that’s great, congrats, man! You’re going to be a father.” I could hardly believe what I was hearing, good news was scarce nowadays.

“Yes I am, and Candy and I, well, we don’t want our kid growing up here, like this.” He motioned to his surroundings. The Brewery they lived and trained in was notorious for gambling and prostitution, it held saloons and brothels as well. In fact I had my suspicions that Candy was once a prostitute herself.

“It’s no place for a kid. We are going to hit the road after the fights; we’ll take our winnings and head west. We have discussed it, kid, and we’d like you to come with us.” Pauli kept his plan simple, they would steal away in the middle of the night and no one would ever know what happened to them. It was Candy’s idea and he opposed it initially because of his loyalty to his brotherhood. After thought and contemplation, along with some careful planning they decided to make a go of it. They were putting money aside ever since and knew the night of the fight was the best to leave. Numerous members would be hurt if not dead from fighting and that would take the attention away from them.

“Really? You guys want me to come with you?” I couldn’t believe my luck.

“We do, but it’s our secret. The Roaches wouldn’t let me out that easy. Once you swear your oath to them kid, it’s for life. That’s why they can’t know.” He looked a little worried.

“Well I swear to you that I won’t tell a soul, just like I never told those jack ass Rabbits about you!” I could hardly believe my luck.

“I know you wouldn’t, that’s why I trust you to do well in the ring. If you get hurt it could jeopardize our plans.”

“Kid, one more thing, I am hoping after this fight you can just go back to being a kid, this baby is going to need a big brother. Too much anger is not a good thing, got it?”

I knew anger had taken over my life but I didn’t know that Pauli could see into me like that.

With the day of the fight approaching I anticipated my new life with Pauli and Candy, would the baby be a boy or girl? Would I really be considered his or her big brother? It was all so exciting but I had to put it out of my mind for now. Now I had to focus on training and training hard.

The day of the highly anticipated fights arrived. I learned that the Dead Rabbits actually split off from the Roach Guards last year as a result of too many differences. The Roaches supported the primary liquor sellers and the Rabbits opposed this, fighting ensued within the gang until it was unanimous they separate. The Rabbits went on to become political sluggers, thieves and thugs earning a reputation for being deadly criminals. The only thing the two gangs still had in common was their mutual hatred for the Bowery Boys who ran the lower east side of the city. The Bowery Boys were made up of Native Americans who became butchers and mechanics, or who were bouncers at either saloons or dance salons. They abhorred the Irish immigrants and any other foreigners and fought fiercely in gang fights on account of their burly strength.

Pauli warmed me up and then kept me calm before my fight by rubbing my shoulders. He wiped petroleum jelly across my cheeks and nose in hopes my opponent’s fist would slip off my face if it ever made contact. Then he rubbed me down with oil so I was more difficult to grip. I wore nothing but a pair of pants cut at the knee for mobility. I was ready.

The first fight ended with a deadly blow to the Rabbits’ fighter. One of our trainers had him in the ring for six rounds and was tired of playing with him, in the seventh round he knocked him out cold and he was still unconscious.

The second and third fights were even bouts; one win went to us and the other to the Rabbits. I searched the crowd for the red headed kid who nearly killed me but hadn’t seen him so far.

The reason I hadn’t seen him was because he wasn’t in the crowd that gathered and was placing wages. He had stepped into the ring. I pulled on Pauli’s shirt, and said, “This fight is mine.”

I didn’t wait for his reply before walking, running rather, into the ring. Red haired boy had grown a bit; he was taller and lengthier than just three or four months ago and had filled out more, too. He looked more intimidating now than he had when he beat me and yet I had all the confidence in the world, that though he was looming over me, I would win. The crowd booed before the fight even began, knowing it was a sure win for the Rabbits. I had a strategy in mind. I was going to make him dance, tire him out for a few rounds and then I’d let him have it. I was a patient fighter and would use it to my advantage. This kid had arms that were longer than my legs so I had no choice but to go inside to cause him damage. I was seething with hatred, my blood boiled and I waited for my moment.

“Remember me?” I taunted.

“Sure don’t,” he replied messing with my head. Fighting was as much psychological as physical and I had to erase his remark immediately.

Round one he got a little too close a few times, I used my slip and punch to avoid his long arms and strong left hook, I used the bump to get back at him when I could. It was the third round when I released myself. I let my hatred take over and I went inside doing damage to this kid’s torso, he could barely breathe on account of all the body shots. When he got his hands down to protect his kidneys, I threw uppercuts to his jaw, spit mixed with blood went flying over my shoulder but I kept going, pummeling him, losing my form and control. He came back at me with a hard right. It knocked me off balance but brought me back to the moment. This kid was tired and hurting. A few more body shots and I had him. He was protecting himself, hands positioned right in front of his body for easy deflection of my shots. I had to split the guard. I was on the offensive, light on my feet, throwing jab fakes and making him work the floor. My moment came and I lunged in, he was expecting a strong right so I hit him with a left and he went down. I threw my arms up in astonishment and stood over him before spitting in his face.

“Remember me now, dick-head?” I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow and left the ring to cheers of the onlookers and bookies who won big for betting on me.

Before I made it to Pauli’s side we all turned toward the sound of police horns and whistles. They found out about the fights and meant to take every one of us in for lock up. There had to be one hundred uniforms, Pauli mouthed for me to “run!!” before I was defiled by tear gas, so I turned and booked out of the facility. I ran and ran for miles, until I was sure no one was following me. I sheltered in a tenement complex hallway, having no idea where I really was. All I knew was I won. I had exacted some revenge. I didn’t get my chance with the small scrappy kid who kicked the shit out of me, or the dark skinned kid who didn’t hold back, but I won against the red head and he was the one who found me and ratted me out.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember some old biddy was shooing me out of the hallway with her broom. The sunlight hurt my eyes; I looked around to get my bearings but was in unfamiliar territory. I walked for a while and finally recognized a street corner that would lead me back to Pauli. Only Pauli wasn’t at the Brewery. No one was. Everyone had scattered and there was no known meeting place. I bet Pauli and Candy used this opportunity to take off and make their run out of New York City.

I sauntered around the building before entering it from behind. Once inside I found my way to the training room, everything looked exactly like it did yesterday, except no one was around. There was always someone in the gym lifting or shadow boxing, but not today. I checked Pauli’s office hoping to find a note or something, anything that might guide me to where they were now. Everyone simply vacated the premises and if there was a secret meeting place I didn’t know about it.

I was alone again.

I spent the day walking around the city, trying to decide what to do now. The Brewery had been abandoned, that was clear to me. I could go back to the stoop with Karen and Tommy, but then what? I would figure that out later I supposed.

That night I stole food from a restaurant, just some bread and cheese, and then ran a few miles until I reached Mulberry Street and the stoop I shared with my old friends.

“Where the hell have you been, Scotty?” Tommy shook my hand and pulled me in for an embrace as did Karen.

“Oh man you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I shook my head, it had been months since I had seen these two.

I told them what happened the day I was found hiding in the Brewery and how I was forced to spy on the Rabbits. Karen cried when I told them how I was nearly beaten to death and they both listened intently when I talked about my training. When I relived my fight they sat in silent awe. I had been through hell and back they said, and they both agreed they were glad I was back with them, especially now that I had fighting skills.

The following night after a long day of searching for work and food, scoping out the Brewery and trying to find any news I could about the bust, I settled into the stoop. I was startled to find a skinny little girl already there, knees pulled up to her chest and fear in her eyes.

“IIIII’m Tabitha,” she stuttered.

Chapter 7 Edmund 1869

I was fourteen years old and had been living with the Whitmoore’s for nearly ten years when I almost met my maker. It was the holiday season, my favorite time of year. Christmas trees decorated with tinsel and mercury glass ornaments filled the house with a fresh pine scent. The pine mingled with but did not over power the aromas emanating from the kitchen, cinnamon, peppermint, nutmeg, and vanilla. I favored the snicker doodles over any other confection of which my mom and Aunt Edna made dozens of batches for our eating pleasure as well as to package and give as gifts. Stockings hung from our mantle that was decorated for the occasion with greenery and sprigs of holly. Gifts in glorious wrappings lay under the tree in the hearth room beckoning me to touch and shake each package to try to guess what was inside.

Our family had little downtime during the Christmas holiday. We dashed from one tree trimming to another for weeks on end, and then the holiday house parties began. Invitations for galas and fundraisers had been coming in for months along with dressmakers and tailors. It was inevitable then that one of us should fall ill from exhaustion and exposure. My mother, Sarah, was the first hit with the flu. She lay in bed with a high fever for a week, tended to by Edna and Mary. The ladies alternated caring for her but by the fourth day of her illness my dad began feeling sour. His limbs ached and grew tired, forcing him take off work at the bank and lie in bed next to my mother. Together they slept for hours on end, only waking when it was insisted upon that they take fluids. I thought I escaped the nasty virus but just as my folks were feeling well, I fell grievously ill. The flu not only brought my fever to a body shivering one hundred and six degrees, causing dehydration, but it also riddled my frail lungs with phlegm. I coughed from my toes; the deep burning pain that accompanied it was felt directly in the center of my chest. Sarah and Mary applied a eucalyptus tincture to my chest hoping the vapors would open my passages but there was too much mucus. I felt as if I was drowning but I didn’t have the energy to care. I was placed in a tub of ice that produced shivers enough to rouse me but not enough to decrease my temperature substantially; I was too ill to stay home and was admitted to the hospital.

I developed pneumonia as a complication to the flu and was treated with opium and quinine to no avail. It was decided that I must be bled; the doctor lacerated my skin on the underside of my forearms and let it drip. For eight weeks I lay in my thin hospital bed, my breath barely audible, and my loose skin falling off my bones. Mary never relented in taking my health and well-being upon her shoulders. She stayed with me daily and throughout many nights, pounding my back with cupped hands, catching my green mucus in a tin pan, which she dumped and cleaned herself. She bathed me with comfrey to bring down my fever and whispered into my ear that I must live.

I believe I left the world for a moment, however brief. I recall being lulled by a feeling of peace and serenity, it washed over me, pulling me towards a bright yellow light. It was Mary who pulled me back to this world, crying, “Eddie! Don’t leave me!” Her cry the only sound I heard.

I opened my eyes to the sight of Mary, leaning over me her face blotchy and eyes tear stained from grief. She thought she’d lost me. I never saw a more pitiful or beautiful sight and knew I must find the will to live. The weeks of bloodletting continued and miraculously by the sixty-fourth day I felt hunger pains. My wheeze was less taxing and my lungs clearing of junk. My fever hovered in the ninety-nine degree range but with Mary and Sarah’s dedication to my health and well-being I was released and allowed to go home at long last. I would regain my strength over the next several weeks, beginning with short walks to the front hall, then around the yard, and finally up and down the tree lined street.

I owed Mary a debt of gratitude. She was the love of my life; she did not know it and I doubted she thought of me the same way. I couldn’t help my feelings any more than I could have helped contracting the flu.

Because of the asthma I suffered as a child I spent the majority of my youth indoors learning to master chess while other boys my age were playing stick-ball and enjoying the great outdoors. While they went fishing, I went to the library. When they swam in the ponds I studied law books and trial cases.

It is hence my greatest desire to become a lawyer and then when the time is right to ask Mary to be my wife. Edna and Pap, and my folks, might balk at first, but eventually it will all make sense. Mary and I are destined to be together. I don’t remember any time before Mary nor would I want to. It was fate that brought us together ten years ago and fate that encouraged and guided two sisters to adopt us so we could be near each other.

I vaguely remember the train; most of my images are rendered from Mary’s retelling. She laughed when she told me how I would pretend to be the conductor, yelling “all aboard” and then bring cupped fists to my mouth to blow a loud whistle sound that mimicked the great engine. She tells how I was taken from her for a spell, adopted by a family from Ohio, but by the time our train hit Iowa I was back, the mother was overwhelmed and made anxious by my constant blubbering and longing for Mary. Mary was loyal to me as well, when Edna first addressed her and discussed adoption she refused on account of me. That is how I came to live with Sarah and Samuel, a wonderful set of nurturing parents. Mary was then and is now my savior.

The only stumbling block in my way is Scotty. He is Mary’s ‘friend’ from before the train; they met in New York City and were reacquainted in Binghamton. I detested Scotty from the first moment I laid eyes on him, his filthy fingernails and farm smell made me nauseous. He took Mary away from me. In years past whenever he came around she indulged him instead of me. As children they would let me tag along and win at games but I knew when I was unwanted. None of that mattered now; soon enough Mary would see the reason that I was the better choice for her. I would be a lawyer with my own firm. I would have great wealth and would build her a home of brick anywhere she chose. Scotty could offer her nothing in comparison.

After my illness I had a fresh outlook on things. Mary needed me as much as I needed her. I had no cause to worry about Scotty.

Years ago I went to great lengths to set Scotty up, I did such elementary things as steal chalk from the teacher’s desk, swipe lunch pails from their hooks, and scratch profanity in the desks.

When the teacher asked the class who was to blame and Scotty was reproached I admit I felt a tad guilty. Mary was full of spit and vinegar knowing full well Scotty was not responsible for the shenanigans; however, no one would listen to her reasoning. Instead the teacher and school board cast out the disheveled farm hand as opposed to any other respectable student from the town’s prominent families. Scotty and Mary stayed after school sanding the desks to their virgin state and wondered out loud who the real culprit was.

I played along with the game saying things like, “We’ll just have to watch out for anyone being sneaky,” or “Golly, I hate seeing you get your knuckles whacked, that must sting like the devil.”

Before long Edna and Pap, along with my folks, the Whitmoore’s, got wind of what was happening at school with Matthew/Scotty and called a family meeting.

Mary and I sat on the couch in Edna’s parlor, all the adults sat before us, but it was Pap that spoke up first. “Children, we have heard that Scotty is in trouble at school and we are worried about the influence he has on you. You are both exceptional students and we worry about your association with him.”

The other adults nodded in agreement.

I was internally thrilled at this development, but for Mary I had to act just as defensive of Scotty. What I didn’t want to see was Mary’s tears.

“It’s not true! I can’t imagine Scotty would steal, well not anymore anyways.” Mary was growing mad in defense of her friend, barely containing her self composure.

“Mom, Pop, Scotty would never do such a thing! You can’t take us away from him!” I blubbered into my handkerchief and stole a glance at Mary who was doing the same.

Edna stood up, cleared her throat and spoke.

“Dears, until this case is settled and we know who is causing all of this havoc at school you will not be having Scotty over here for Sundays anymore, and Mary you are no longer permitted to help him on Mondays at the farm.” Edna looked distressed.

Mary cried into her kerchief and yelled.

“That’s not fair!” Mary, to whom justice was important, stomped away to her room where she slammed the door loud enough for Pap to flinch.

I dried my eyes, it was amazing I could force myself to cry, and went to sit on Mom’s lap.

“I’ll do what you want Mom and Pop,” and then I laid my head against her ample bosom. Mom stroked my curls and said, “That’s my good boy.” Before standing up to go back home.

Edna and Pap were pillars of society and they would never allow their daughter to commune with a mere farm boy who was lacking in a higher education. My plan worked, or so I thought.

Mary and Scotty rarely spent time together anymore, she was not allowed at the farm and he was too busy with his work to come to town. What I didn’t know was they had been sneaking out for years at night and it was I that caught them red-handed.

I made extra cash by delivering Sunday morning’s paper across town; it had been months since my illness and I was finally up to the task once more. I missed my early mornings, and looked forward to the stillness that came with the dark pre-dawn sky twinkling with stars. Watching the sunrise was another perk I had missed.

I was delivering Edna’s paper when I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye. I investigated the motion and found Scotty and Mary involved in a familiar tryst behind the knuckled oak. Scott was cupping Mary’s breasts and she was rubbing between his legs, both of them were enmeshed in the moment and did not see me.

That night I did what all men do, after the dinner hour I poured myself a brandy and swallowed it down. Then I poured another, and another. My folks were out at a dinner engagement so I allowed myself this opportunity to wallow. I became drunk and felt as if I could take on the world. I had bounds of energy and ran through town, singing and sloshing about. It began raining and the torrent came at such an angle as to wet my collar straight through so I began to strip. A girl, about my age, watching me undress in the middle of the town pulled me by the hand, running through the rain and its puddles, past the tavern and up a back stair case. She opened the door to her room and at least momentarily Mary was forgotten.

Chapter 8 Gert

I spent my childhood chewing my hair to keep quiet. I sucked the salty ends and chewed at them, twirling the wad into circles and making nests in my mouth, never swallowing, just chewing and sucking. From behind the closet doors I could hear the men talking with my mother at first, then there were zippers and hushed sounds of laughter, bed squeaks, and my mother’s groaning and grunting. I soon realized I could watch from between the slats if I angled myself just right and from then on this is what I did.

Mother told me to get in the closet as soon as we heard a rap on the door. Once she knew I was settled, she fluffed her hair and the satin pillows, pinched color into her cheeks, and then opened the door and welcomed her client. The clients varied, some were rugged outdoors type men, and others were men who barely spoke English but who were always respectful. Some were older and wealthy, as apparent by their shoes. The wealthy men had shiny shoes with pretty tassels on them, the farmers and laborers, had boots. If the boots had mud or muck on them, mother gently asked the men to take them off at the door until they were regular customers and this was routine.

She often caught my eye between the slats and motioned with one finger to her lips for me to shush and be quiet. No one knew I existed in this room, in this room it was only my mother and her many men.

For thirteen years I observed and learned the ways of a man by watching my mother entertain them as she called it. It provided us with a room and board and I rarely remember feeling hungry. Her work was a means to an end, nothing more.

Mother was a self-possessed beauty; she had dark almond shaped eyes with long come-hither lashes. Her skin was soft and supple because she bathed regularly with rose water, the remains of which she put in her black silky hair and mine so we would smell enticing. She cared very much about her beauty and keeping her appearance youthful. We often went on long walks around the city to take fresh air and stay healthy and trim. Mother handed out note cards on these occasions and I determined this was how she developed her clientele. Her card read “Sarah’s Sweet Delights” on the first line, followed by, “no appointment needed”, then she penciled in our address below. It looked to me like she ran a bakery and that’s what she wanted any non-interested parties to think. Some men were just too dense she said.

Men came at all hours of the day and night, my mother lounged in her silken robes all afternoon waiting for a client. I couldn’t tell whether she liked what she did, the way she moaned underneath a man made me believe she was happy, but sometimes her face looked as if it were in pain. During those times I wanted to burst out of the closet and help her out from under the lunk of flesh crushing her, but she said that meant she was enjoying herself. Why then didn’t she moan all the time, I asked? She explained that different clients liked different things. Some liked her loud, some liked her quiet and still, others had to know she was taking pleasure in the encounter before they could find their own release. These were the ‘real’ men she said, the ones who gave a damn.

I had even seen my mother take a colored man to bed on occasion. With him she really seemed to be enjoying herself, I wondered if it was real or if it was a show for him so he would finish sooner. I asked her when he left and she said “Child, if you are ever so lucky to have a black man wanting after you….take him in. You won’t be sorry.”

One particular evening a man we didn’t know came knocking at her door. He was not a regular and my mother didn’t remember giving him an invitation. He smelled of drink, always an alarming stench. She told him he must be at the wrong address for her husband would be right home. He bolted through the door anyways and said he knew he was in the right place, he had been watching men come and go all week and wanted to see what was so special it had the men whistling when they left.

The man caught sight of me as I hadn’t quite hidden myself all the way in the closet on account of his abrupt entry. My foot was still caught in the door jam and I hoped to quietly bring it in with the rest of me once they began. He walked towards me and opened the closet door all the way.

“Ha” he laughed an ugly scratchy laugh that got caught in his throat on the way out and forced him to cough.

“Now I see what the men are whistling about, come here little darling. Don’t you play coy with me.” His grin showed he was missing several teeth and the rest were so yellow I could hardly imagine what he smelled like up close. He motioned me towards him but quickly my mother stepped right in between us.

“She is not part of the bargain, but I promise, if you’ll let me, I will show you a fine time and have you whistling to your favorite tune all through the week.” Mother was as demure as I had ever seen her, sweet talking this poor excuse for a man.

She never scrunched her face at his vile smell although I could barely breathe it was so rotten. He unclothed right in front of us presenting a repulsive body that gagged me. Mother on the other hand walked towards him like she was impressed and made a huge fuss over his muscles. All I saw was a huge fat smelly rotten man with hairy balls and a poker that went off to the side.

She reached for him, bringing him toward the bed, making him forget all about me. Before long he was moaning and groaning and she was saying, “Yes, that’s right, ooooh you like that don’t you.” She disappeared under the covers for a moment and never wiped her mouth when she came back up. She stared into the man’s eyes and dared him to do anything but think of her. She let him think he was in control, but she and I both new she had him right where she wanted him.

The man laughed as he dressed, whistling away, stumbling as he tried putting his pant legs on. He was a fool, a drunk, and the whole place needed laundering and scrubbing now.

We didn’t mention the man the following day, but we stripped the sheets in unison and set about washing them, along with the coverlets and pillow casings. Soon enough the room smelled fresh again and we went out for our walk. We silently prayed he wouldn’t be back and he wasn’t for a long while.

***

We carried on with our regulars, a few more having seen me because I was growing and it was harder to stay quiet when scrunched into a tiny closet. Many men liked having me watch and offered big money for me. Mother said no, she is not ready, I hadn’t yet had my monthlies and was not yet a woman.

“Tomorrow is going to be your golden birthday, Gert!” My mother exclaimed one afternoon.

“My golden birthday, what’s that mean?”

“Well you are turning thirteen years old on the thirteenth of the month, the numbers coincide and that only happens once in a lifetime. Let’s do something special.” She bounced next to me on the bed.

“Maybe we can get ice-cream?” I asked.

“Surely we can get ice cream, with jimmies too! Maybe we can even shop for a new dress and shoes.”

We settled ourselves in for the night and were woken at about nine in the morning, a quick impatient knock came at the door. Mother hushed me and I went in to the closet before she opened it. It was the rotten man. It had been nearly a year since our episode with him and we prayed he was too drunk to remember where we lived. Not so.

He demanded to see me.

“She is at school, sir. But as you can see I am available.” She reached for his drawers and tugged at his belt.

“Get away you old hag!” He pushed my mother across the room, and she stifled a sob.

I could hear him approach the closet and tried to nestle hidden under a coat, but he simply pulled it off me and grabbed my arm. He glared at me up and down before he began undressing. His pants were at his ankles in seconds and he had me in his grip while he kicked his pants the rest of the way off his feet.

“Your turn, sweet-heart.” He demanded nuzzling my neck, and fondling my buds beneath my clothes, but mother was on her feet and begging him away with her body as payment.

“She is a virgin; surely you don’t want someone who has no idea how to pleasure a man.” Mother used her sultry voice and again grabbed at his hairy balls and stiffening member.

He pushed her away with one hand and grabbed me, pulling me to the bed and under him. Instead of fumbling with my dress he pulled up my skirts and began ripping at my underwear.

I was sweating and couldn’t breathe under his weight, trying to slither out from under him but he was too strong and this time he wasn’t drunk and easily swayed.

I scratched at his arms, and kicked with all my might.

“I love a feisty one,” he laughed out loud, and started kissing my mouth.

I bit his wandering tongue and drew blood, he was about to strike me but my mother hit him hard on the head with our iron pan and he went down.

“Run Gert!”

“Mother, no, I have to stay to help you!” I pleaded with her.

“No, take the money and get away from here, far away, don’t come back.” She motioned toward our coffee jar that held our savings. I grabbed a few dollars and promised to be back, to hell with this man.

Then I took one last look at my mom. She whacked the man on the head again with the pan and blood trickled out his mouth. I ran out of the building and past any section of the city that was familiar to me. I saw a church and ran for it. We had never gone but I thought it was a better place than any to go right now.

Inside it was peaceful. I sat in a pew and stared at the figure of Jesus before me, dripping blood from his wrists. Still I wasn’t startled, rather I was in awe of my surroundings. The stained glassed windows were cut to form pictures, the beeswax candles and red velvet draperies were all so beautiful. I laid my head onto a cushioned pew and fell asleep, not waking until many hours later while being greeted by a woman in a black dress and funny white hat. Sister Agnes was her name.

She reached towards me without question. She bathed me so gently it was if washing away my sorrows. She held up several dresses until she found one that fit properly and clothed me with stockings, shoes, and a shawl. She asked about my family, and then asked about my future. She talked of orphan trains and all the promise that lay ahead for someone like me. Word was sent to my mother that I was with the Sisters of Charity, I waited the appropriate ten days for her to come and lay claim to me, but when she didn’t I gave in.

I sat on that train, staring out the window, sucking my hair until it became wadded together in nests, thinking of my mother. Whether or not it was true or imagined, I believed my mother was growing thinner. I had seen her skin flake and her hair falling out in clumps. I made up a disease, an awful disease that would take her in her sleep. The nameless disease ravaged her mind and body, causing tremors and delirium forcing her to forget she had a daughter, this became the only way I could bear the thought of her apart from me because it would mean a quick death followed by peace. I imagined her light shining above in the brightest star; one day we would meet again, of this I was sure.

I wanted off at the first train stop. The whiny children were too much for me to handle. My thoughts were only on my survival; I had frozen the image and memory of my mother, the murderess, and put it in an imaginary box. I had to find work and I knew of only one way to make money. I ran from the platform and into the city of Binghamton in search of clients.

I lied about my age, the dark charcoal around my eyes helped to make me look older than I really was. I took a job as a bar-maid at a tavern called the Ale House in Binghamton, New York, busing tables, cleaning dishes, making drinks when necessary, and refilling drinks always. I earned my keep with this work, and as far as the towns-folk knew this is how I earned a living. The job came with a room above the bar that had been outfitted with a bed and bath, plus small vanity. It was perfect. I would be very discreet about my real money maker, the only people who knew I was a prostitute were my clients, and given their place in society I doubted they would snitch. I used the mirror to practice my many provocative looks as well as to apply charcoal around my eyes and balm to my lips. I studied my gait and practiced swaying my hips when I walked until I felt certain it was sexy, I fluffed my hair to make it more voluminous and after acclimating to the city and earning some wages for rose oil, I began my business.

I chose my clients, they did not choose me. If I saw someone dapper, or wealthy, I gave him his bill along with an invitation to join me later for a night cap. At first the men were surprised by my age, but soon enough they learned I was worth the money. Besides I always lied, telling them I was sixteen when in reality I was thirteen.

My first client was young and drunk. He kept muttering something about a Mary sneaking out…. He might have been a virgin himself, he fumbled so much between the sheets I grew impatient and did the work, sticking him in me for the thirty seconds it took for him to finish. He apologized profusely before passing out atop me.

“If they were all this quick it wouldn’t be so bad,” I thought to myself. Edmund became a regular. He was a pretty lad to look at, thick curly dark hair and eyelashes longer than my own. He was lithe, didn’t know a hard days work as was told by the smoothness of his hands and his nice dress shoes. He often showed up at odd hours and sometimes only wanted to be held. He never asked about me but always left a large tip and therefore could use my time any way that pleased him.

My clients varied much as my mother’s did. But I controlled whom I invited and I asked for complete anonymity. I also had my men make appointments. I wanted gentlemen, for they were less likely to talk about me to their business partners. By my fourteenth year I could pleasure a man and have him begging for more within the half hour. I loved this power, I knew I was pretty and was developing a following that would have me in riches soon enough. I dreamed of a house high on a hilltop with goats and chickens running wild through the long green grass. Among the animals were three or four curly haired children laughing and playing chase. I dreamed of a man who came home to embrace me, bringing me flowers and candy as my suitors already did now. But this man atop the hill loved me. Not only did I pleasure him but I allowed myself to be pleasured by him.

Chapter 9 Mary

Dozing on my rocker, I thought back to 1867, I was seventeen and had fallen in love for the first and only time. It was a year full of adventure and intrigue as well as disappointments and enlightenments.

***

“Mary, the Ladies of the Literary Society would like to invite you to attend our monthly meetings,” my teacher and mentor Miss Kate informed me.

“We think you will not only enhance our discussions but in turn you will learn a great deal from the orations and debates.” Kate continued.

“I would enjoy that!” I proclaimed.

I soaked up books such as Little Women, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and Emma, but it was The Scarlet Letter that left me with questions. I wished to discuss these books and others in detail with like-minded women, prompting my invitation to the club. Miss Kate suggested that because of my enthusiasm for learning I matriculate and become a teacher upon my graduation this year. She explained that reforms had taken place across the country during the war demanding the need for publicly funded schools, as more men were becoming soldiers or entering the labor force women were more prevalently seen and accepted in the classroom as both students and teachers. After the war ended the trend of female teachers continued. Miss Kate was independent and I admired her character greatly. She praised my work with the smaller children, telling me I had the patience of a saint, helping them as much with their shoe-laces as their penmanship and arithmetic. I truly enjoyed the spark in their eyes when something clicked! The dream of becoming a teacher was planted and I tended to it faithfully. I set my sights on teaching in a public school system rather than being a tutor or governess for the wealthy.

Often the children I helped brought me gifts to say thank you. Sometimes I found a shiny red apple on my desk beside Miss Kate’s, other times I was given loaves of homemade banana nut bread, or slices of peach cobbler. I delighted when Samantha, a student I helped who was six years old, brought me a bright yellow ribbon for my hair. My hair was shoulder length and hung in soft waves around my face, it was auburn in color now and the ribbon would make the perfect bow. I thanked her with a giant hug and noted that Edmund was immediately by my side to see what happened.

When my head wasn’t pouring over books I was most likely found outdoors studying foliage or fishing and swimming. I baited my own hook and often dissected my catch to learn more about the anatomy of a fish. I found sewing to be painstaking and my stitches were crooked and my finishes lazy, although like cooking, I recognized it was a necessary skill. That was why I de-scaled and de-boned the fish I caught and chopped off their heads for Edna to fry at night. I rarely, if ever, fussed over my hair. The other females lucky enough to attend school went to great lengths to brush and style their locks; it baffled me for their hair sat under a bonnet for the better part of the day. I thought Edna would keel over when I took her kitchen scissors one scorching afternoon and cut my curls right off to my chin. It was so relieving to be rid of its weight and much cooler, she walked in to the kitchen just as I was sweeping the tendrils and taking them out to spread across the garden as fertilizer. Edna was not cross; she only tried to understand why I would do such a thing. I had precious few female friends and when I wasn’t helping Miss Kate at recess I spent time playing marbles or stick-ball with lads. I was called a tomboy and wore the badge with honor.

Unfortunately for me, Scotty was no longer enrolled in school so I had no one but Edmund to keep me company on my long walks home. His workload on the farm was increasing and the ruthless injustice he faced when he was accused of theft cemented the decision for him. It was the farm he chose. He enjoyed the work and never missed the scrutiny of his classmates.

I was lucky enough to be alone with Scotty after the incident that placed him before the board of education years ago.

“You have to believe me,” Scotty took my hands and pulled me off our path and behind a tree; he looked directly in to my eyes. “I didn’t do it, I would never do it. I wouldn’t risk getting kicked out of school or worse, losing my place on the farm. If they get wind someone thinks I am stealing I will be back on the streets again.” He dropped my hands and hung his head, kicking at pebbles and making scuff marks in the dirt.

“I believe you, Scotty, I do.” I said with fierce loyalty to my friend, “but why Edmund would lie and claim to have seen you in the act, it’s so peculiar. We have to catch the real thief is all and then we’ll set everything right.” I smiled at Scotty and rubbed his back in a circle for encouragement, feeling the friction between his soft cotton shirt and my fingers. If Edna saw me doing this she would probably scold me for being improper, but I had spent countless nights with this lad under a stoop in New York City and felt that if he could keep me warm while we slept, surely there was no harm in patting his back, even if I did linger. I often saw my own ma and da touching one another in this comforting way and it felt right.

“It’s going to be alright.” Here he was the one being treated unjustly and yet he was comforting me. The tears flowed freely down my cheeks now and he wiped at them.

“When will I see you?” I said pathetically.

I knew Edna and Pap wanted to put space between us until all the dust cleared.

“I’ll sneak down to you at night, when you hear taps on your window, that’s me. You’ll have to be quiet when sneaking out or you’ll get in trouble for certain.” He had his hands on my shoulders.

“I don’t like being deceitful, but if it’s the only way then I will do it,” I decided reluctantly.

The first night I heard the ping pang as the tiny pebbles pelted the glass. I sat straight up in bed and smoothed my hair, which was peculiar since I never cared about my hair. I tightened my robe and took off my slippers, but before heading out I stuffed my bed with extra pillows to make it appear I was there. It was the ultimate betrayal to Edna and Pap but I could see no way around it. I carefully made my way past Edna’s room and avoided any stairs that squeaked, treading quietly through the kitchen and out the back door. We ran through the backyard and stopped in the fields behind our house. In the beginning our meetings were brief and never in the same place twice. Our fear of being caught consumed our time together. Later we grew more brazen and were willing to risk a slap on the hand in order to see one another.

It was unfair that he had to decide between work and his education, and that he was accused unjustly. On the first night I snuck out it was our main topic of conversation. To our disappointment nothing we said or did rectified the situation. I tried reasoning with the teacher and with Edna and Pap, but it was all for naught. Scotty was resigned to the fact he wouldn’t matriculate and would instead continue his days working on the farm. This bewildered me because he was intelligent; he had more than street smarts. So math wasn’t his best subject and letters were often tricky for him, he had an uncanny ability to work puzzles and analyze problems logically that couldn’t be taught. He also had an innate sense of geography. I wanted him to learn along with me, so often at night I filled his mind with historical facts and scientific findings that I knew would interest him. I taught him astronomy and together we gazed at the sky making wishes on stars.

More often we just enjoyed being together, running through the fields dodging cow patties, playing hide and seek, climbing trees or just talking. He was the one person I could relax with; because of our shared history there were no pretenses.

On one occasion I asked Scotty about his memories of New York City, and I inquired about his family as well. It was a bone of contention for him, but I was unaware of this because he came across as being self-assured and content at all times. He carried no ill will towards the woman who was supposed to take care of him, but rather for the situation as a whole. His mother did nothing but lay around in bed all day. He was scraping for food for as long as he could remember. He had younger siblings that were taken or given away, he wasn’t sure which, but he did remember a brother named Eli. Eli was a blonde lad, just a toddler, always crying from hunger. Scotty did his best to provide for him but he was nothing but a child himself. When I asked how many siblings he had, I was surprised when he responded with six or seven. Hard to imagine being alone in the world, especially New York City when you had sisters and brothers. Apparently they had all been handed over or taken and placed in orphanages in the city limits. They were all separated and the little ones would be far too young to remember him.

Scotty told me that his mother only spoke German and that she found it hard to get along in this country, but his father was also a mean bastard adding to her suffering. I asked if his father spoke English and he explained that his mother was an immigrant who lost her entire family during her passage to America. She married the first man who showed her any kindness when she landed, that man was his father. Scotty’s father would come home drunk and beat his mother regularly, always reaching out to whack a kid, too. Scotty did his best to shield and protect the younger ones, and often took the brunt of his father’s vengeance on himself. It was a sorry situation, he never felt love within this family, except for the affinity he felt for Eli. His sisters were dirty and whiny, clinging to their mother in her bed sheets, trying to coax her up. Scotty was more apt to fend for himself than rely on anyone else.

We spoke about looking for Eli one day, and Scotty said he would like that.

Scotty anchored me to place and time. He didn’t pretend around me and never wavered in who he was. He was a hardworking, loyal friend. He liked me with long or short hair, was not intimidated by my smarts or the fact I studied hard and loved books, he took it as much a part of me as the bridge of freckles running across my nose. Often at night after running wild through the woods and fields we would find a tree and nuzzle against it together. His arm would drape casually across my shoulders and I would listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. Sometimes I twirled my fingers through his curly hair and studied his profile. He was not handsome in a traditional way, but his features were symmetrical and manly. He was muscular from his chores and rugged too. He often spit chew in front of me or swore like a ruffian, a gentleman would never be so brazen to offend. But Scotty knew I didn’t offend easily. He was the one person that treated me like I wouldn’t break. Perhaps this is what drew me to him.

One night, after staring up at the stars and making wishes on the brightest one, I listened to his heart-beat; it was not its steady self but fluttered. He released his arm from behind my head and without a pause he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were soft as a peach and slightly moist. His stubble scratched at my skin but I didn’t mind.

After he kissed me he studied my face for a reply. He laughed nervously, but then I reached out for him and pulled him back. We fumbled a bit until we found our rhythm and laughed when our lips both became chapped. The first times our tongues touched we both flinched with the excitement the new sensation brought.

After that night everything changed. I found Scotty’s kisses to be entrancing and thought of little else. They brought forth a longing from me as well as neediness from him. If he wasn’t able to make it down to my house in town more than a few times a week I grew sullen. I feared the worst, that I had done something wrong. That he didn’t like the way I kissed, or worse, he didn’t like me anymore after kissing me. Perhaps he thought I was too forward and brazen or didn’t like my breath.

I was wrong. He felt the longing too and it distracted him from his farm work. He was infatuated by my mind as well as my body, and told me so in spoken and written words. His letters professed his love simply but beautifully. He struggled with writing, but his taking the time to write notes enthralled me all the more.

Scotty was very complimentary, always making me feel beautiful and also acknowledging that I was a young woman now. “Mary, I declare you have the most beautiful smile I have ever witnessed, it lights up your whole face.” He exclaimed one night after kissing me. He admired my eyes and the smoothness of my skin as well. But it wasn’t my physical attributes that drew Scotty to me, he often remarked on my spirit, telling me I was strong and brave, he admired the genuine kindness I showed to others and the confidence with which I carried myself. He also liked my odd sense of humor. We both found certain bodily functions to be hilarious and any other young lady would exclaim to be repulsed, whenever Scotty burped or farted I laughed out loud, thinking of the Canter boys, if it wasn’t one it was another tooting and burping all day long.

On one night he presented me with a gift, it was an oval shaped locket with an engraving of a meadow on it. He had been saving his allowance since he started work and wanted to buy something special for me. “It’s for the photo of you and your mother,” he said as he lifted my hair out of the way and attached the clasp. It was the loveliest most thoughtful gift I had ever received and promised to treasure it and wear it always.

I was unable to sleep at night and spent the daytimes drowsy. Scotty filled my heart and soul. He was my friend and my confidant. Was it love? If so it was very different from the love I felt towards Edna and Pap. It was a feeling in my stomach much like butterflies whenever I ran to meet him, his embrace secured me, it gave me a home and in his arms I felt whole. His kisses awakened the woman in me and as we became older our bodies responded with urgency to one another. We spent many nights in the grass kissing and guiding each other with what little skill we had, fumbling as we learned.

In the winters our meetings were scarcer and we grew feverish with want. When we finally had opportunity to meet our sense of desire and urgency cast all propriety and fear of consequences aside. We lay down in snow banks, haylofts, outcrops, anywhere we knew we wouldn’t be discovered. I inhaled his mingling scent of farm and masculinity. He inhaled what he said I smelled like, simply ‘home’.

I was overcome with feelings and needs that were unquenchable. One night we were both so tired from our tryst that we fell asleep in each other’s arms, waking at sunrise and fearing we would be found out. He ran all the way back to the farm and I to the house, sneaking in just in time to start the tea for the morning before Edna came in, surprised to see me up and about. I told her, it was high time I spoiled her for once and bade her to sit and let me make the mornings breakfast. She was delighted at my thoughtfulness and I was sickened by my betrayal.

We continued like this in secret because Edna and Pap didn’t feel Scotty was a good suitor for me. He dropped out of school and had no means of providing for a wife. They paraded me in front of their friends’ children, setting up would be matches with older boys who were to become law students, pharmacists, bankers and the like. I was pleasant and carried on my part of the conversation so as to keep Edna and Pap from learning I was already in love. I cared not what kind of money my love had, but rather how he treated me. I was to be a teacher anyway and could support myself if need be. Scotty asked my opinion on matters, we talked philosophically and he wasn’t at all put out that I wanted to work. Many of the suitors I attended teas with deferred to Pap for my opinion on politics, religion, business, and even personal matters. The men, several who I went to school with, and who called me tomboy, were just as uncomfortable as I was in our being set up. Other young suitors were far too dapper and full of pretense; they didn’t suit me well at all. I wasn’t one for velvet collars and stiff white dress shirts with flaming cravats, I preferred soft worn work shirts and suspenders. Some of my suitors put more time and care into the way they dressed than I did for heaven’s sake! In fact Edna was always laying out my dresses so I hardly put energy into my attire at all.

One particular morning while Edmund was out throwing papers onto sidewalks, he managed to catch me at four-thirty a.m. as I stumbled, hair tousled, lips chapped, towards the door. He had seen our passion filled embrace, and fondling, and though he was merely a boy he was enraged and full of jealousy.

“What in the world are you doing outside with him?” he whispered to me in the dark, his voice imposing and full of hatred.

“It’s not what you think, Edmund!” His anger startled and confused me. I had never seen him this way.

“Well then explain it to me,” Eddie threatened.

“I love him, what else matters?” I asked.

Edmund’s eyes seethed with hatred, his hands remained clenched tight in fists and for a brief moment I feared he might actually hit me. When he raised his hands I flinched, startling him.

“Do you think for one second I would hit you? Don’t you know that I love you? That you are all that matters to me? That I think about you day and night, and nothing else?” He took steps towards me his eyes holding my gaze.

“I don’t know what to say, Edmund, I am sorry. I don’t return your feelings. I love you, but not in the same way.”

“How could you let him grope you like that? It’s disgusting; I ought to have him arrested,” he ruminated.

“Edmund, No! I am willing, we wish to marry….” I begged him to keep the matter between us.

“It seems to me he has no respect for you if he is sneaking around at night pawing at you like a common wench!” He stepped lightly towards me grabbing my wrists before continuing, “He is wrong for you, he is nothing but a farmhand, and you are educated and beautiful….”

“Edmund, let go. You are hurting me, let go!” I had to keep my wits about me, but this was all wrong. He grasped my wrists tighter, pulling me to him, kissing my lips and pushing me against the kitchen wall.

I pulled away and slapped him hard across the face. “Never do that again.” With that I turned and left, climbing the staircase quietly and locking the bedroom door behind me. Edmund was but a child in a man’s body, he did not possess me, but was acting as if he did.

Edmund confided the matter to Sarah who discussed it with Edna. I was forbidden from seeing Scotty again.

“You can’t tell me what to do! You aren’t even my real parents! I will leave then, I am nearly old enough to teach and earn a living anyway!” I was overcome with fear of losing Scotty and eager to hurt my guardians any way possible. How could they understand what he meant to me when they had never had anything taken away from them, theirs was nothing more than a life of riches.

I grew forlorn; I withdrew from everyone and everything except my studies. I refused to discuss the situation. Edna tried speaking to me, softening me with new yarns, or fabrics for clothing. She even tried tempting me with new books of poetry with female authors. As much as I wanted the books, I would not let her buy my sacrifice with tokens such as these. No. I grew thin and abandoned my hair all together, letting it grow and hang in greasy untended curls. I went to bed early and woke to face the day only with enough time to walk to school, skipping breakfast and lunch all together. I walked with my head down; I refused to look anyone in the face. They were all traitors. Taking us in and telling us we would be welcomed, yet at the first sign of trouble they cast Scotty out. It bothered folks that Scotty and I were different. We didn’t belong here and we both knew it. We had a hard edge to us, a skepticism and concern over our next meal, although we both had been provided for, that never goes away. The feeling hunger leaves in your gut stays with you, always.

When Edmund came to see me I ignored him. It was his fault anyway. It was creepy the way he always showed up at my side and I was growing weary from it. The kiss and the uncommon threatening demeanor he displayed had me frightened. I wanted my own life, wanted to fall in love with whom I pleased and whom I knew to be good.

“Go away, Edmund!” I yelled at him more than once, sick of his looming presence.

There had to be a way around this and I would find it if it meant running away.

I desperately missed my parents, sometimes wishing for my own death so I could be near them again. I had forgotten the sound of my da’s voice long ago, and my mother’s was fading each year. I cried for my loss, felt sorry for myself, and found it difficult to break through this torment. Everything I loved was taken from me and I was tired with grief.

Chapter 10

Ours was a private affair that carried on for years before we were discovered by Edmund who ratted us out. Finding ways to see one another since then, over the last two years was difficult, we hid letters in rocks along her fields denoting where and when we should meet. For a while Pap slept sentry on the davenport, making sneaking out impossible for her. So we met mid-day, often in the hayloft at the farm where we had privacy, Mary under the guise that she was at school tutoring or at the library studying. Deciding that nothing and no one would keep us apart, the deceit was worth the risk.

Now that I was twenty and Mary was turning nineteen in a week, we could begin courting in public, no more sneaking around as we had been. Our time spent entwined brought us close in ways unimaginable and I feared we would not be able to keep ourselves from making love soon. We had experienced passion and pleasure at the hands of one another and confessed our deepest love. We longed for each other when not together and at times I found myself milking a dry cow I was so lost in the thought of Mary.

Her round, grey eyes sparkled and spoke to me without the need for words. Her hair was past her shoulders in soft auburn waves, often braided at night, which was good because it stayed out of our way. I knew what made her tingle and how to pleasure her until she was exhausted from the experience and could only collapse, spent in my arms. We talked of marriage, we talked of making love, the importance of waiting, and we talked about our other dreams. Where did we want to live, where would we honeymoon, and what were we going to name our children?

She had grown into a beautiful young woman before my very eyes and at times it was all I could do to keep it in my pants. I often had to take care of myself before running to meet Mary or I would burst at her touch.

I would ask Pap for his permission to court Mary and become betrothed; surely he would see that Mary and I belonged together. It made perfect sense given our history. I could only hope he had put the mishaps at school and with sneaking out, years ago, behind them as I had, letting bygones be just that.

***

I spent several nights birthing calves with Mr. Wright; one was difficult because it was turned sideways. We had to apply pressure to the stomach and try to move it with our hands, finally Mr. Wright asked me to scrub up. I had to go inside the heifer and attempt to turn the calf internally. I had blood and insides soaked up to my shoulders, the work was more physically taxing than anything I had encountered before. I suddenly thought of my fights, they were challenging in a different way. This heifer depended on me now and with that thought I broke into a full sweat. I didn’t want to hurt the heifer, she was in enough pain and her demeanor told me she was giving up. I found a hoof and scrawny leg and pulled with all my might, beckoning her to stay with me. Finally after hours of gently nudging and pulling, she budged. The calf was born alive and although the heifer died, it was considered a success at having saved the newborn.

The Wrights wanted to celebrate with me and asked me to spiff up and join them in town for dinner.

I was surprised but honored, after many years of working for them they had never asked me join them while they dined in public.

We went in their carriage to a tavern in town that purchased our beef. I grew nervous on the ride into town, having never dined in a proper establishment before. I suddenly grew self-conscious, but once inside the place that quickly ended. The atmosphere was comfortable and people were engrossed in their own conversations and having a laugh.

Our waitress was energetic and overly attentive. She spilled soda on my lap and grabbed tonic to mop my breeches much to my embarrassment. She left with a wink and nodded me towards her in the back room. I wasn’t leaving my company on account of her and stayed right where I was, thank you very much.

“Boy, you did well today. You birthed that calf with the skill of a true farmer. You made us proud, and we wanted to thank you.” Mr. Wright patted Mrs. Wright’s hand and together they smiled at me putting me further at ease.

I was going to speak but he continued.

“You’re a man now, which means you can leave us any time you wish. You no longer have to work for your board, in truth we need to begin paying you for your time. You can stay in the barn if you wish for a small rent, but there is another idea we had.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

“The Mrs. and I are getting on in age and we are plum tired. We are thinking of selling. It’s just too much work for us anymore. Our boys don’t want farm work, they never did and we wouldn’t sell to just anybody. We think highly of you, Scotty, you never complain and are very competent. So I suppose we want to know if you are interested.” Mr. Wright wiped his mustache with his napkin and waited for a response.

This was my big chance, a farm of my own!

“Yes! I am interested, I enjoy the farm more than I ever thought I would, but I don’t have enough money saved to buy it outright, how could it work?” I was perplexed but Mr. Wright had some ideas and we began talking them over.

After dinner I ran to Mary’s summoning my courage to speak with Pap. I knocked on the front door and he answered immediately.

“Sir,” I said nervously, “I wish to begin seeing Mary formally and I wanted to ask your permission before taking her out on our first date.”

“It seems to me boy you should have asked my permission long ago. Before you began sneaking out at night with my daughter and treating her like anything but a lady.”

“I am buying the Wright farm, the paperwork is being put together now, sir. I can offer her a good life, I promise. You must know I love her, she is the only one.” I pleaded, not surprised he would throw the past in my face.

“So you want her to be a farmer’s wife. Hmmmm, I wonder how long that will work. She being educated and used to such niceties as we have provided her. No boy, if you love her, you will leave. You will want better for her than just being a farmer’s wife, or a thief’s wife. Phfff.” He blew air out his mouth.

“Now get out of here before you embarrass yourself.” With that he slammed the door shut before I could utter another word.

The defeat I felt was worse than being beaten in New York City by the Rabbits. Surely this is not what Mary would want. She loved me for who I was and our conversations were never lacking, were they?

I went home to plot this out, but when I reached the barn I knew something was dead wrong. Dozens of cows were out to pasture and it was far too late for that. The horses were stirring and the Wrights were standing about.

“What happened?” I cried as I ran towards them.

“You tell us. Maybe you know something we don’t.” Mr. Wright looked forlorn and wiped a tear from his eye.

I walked into the barn and found the new calf dead on the ground, as well as several other laboring heifers. They were killed, intestines and blood spilled across the hay.

I ran towards the calf, dropping to her side. I put my head beside her mouth listening for breath; she wasn’t bloodied like the other animals, so perhaps she had a chance. I began chest compressions and Mr. Wright came to stop me.

“It’s too late. She’s gone, Scotty.”

“She can’t be I have to try!” I kept compressing her chest and even blew into her mouth, after several minutes of this she hadn’t budged. But I was a fighter, I willed her to live.

I continued the compressions and breathing, finally giving it up to God, when low and behold, she mooed.

The little calf was alive!

Mr. and Mrs. Wright joined me in my frenzy to get her up and moving about so we could have a proper look at her. We moved her from her position to the second barn and fresh mound of hay that had been left unbothered by the perp.

No one could imagine what happened in the few short hours we were gone, but it was nothing short of evil.

“Who would do this?” I yelled, frantic.

I had to go to Mary; several days had passed since the animals were murdered and it had been over a week since we had been together. I can’t imagine who would be so cruel and heartless; these were going to be my cows, my farm. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her this yet. Pap probably told her I was worthless, she was surely being punished and brainwashed.

It was mid-summer and the windows were open to allow for a breeze. Mary’s lace curtains flapped silently announcing the wind on its heels and cooling her off. Pebbles wouldn’t work, nor could I risk leaving a note that anyone, namely Edmund could find. I had a sense he was following us and spying on our interactions and it was unnerving. I had to go in the house. I knew where the spare key was kept and found it easily enough. I unlocked the latch and panicked when I dropped the key and it went clattering on the ground.

No one stirred so I continued towards the stairs, holding my breath and praying not to be caught for it would mean jail. I was trespassing and could be questioned in the killing of the animals too.

I stepped lightly into Mary’s room and closed the door behind me. I watched her sleep for a moment; it was a peaceful picture, one I wanted to instill in my mind. I covered her mouth and tapped her arm gently.

“Mary, Mary wake up.” I spoke in a whisper shaking her shoulder ever so gently.

She jerked up frightened because her mouth was covered and she couldn’t see me in the dark.

“It’s me, Scotty.” I pleaded with her not to scream. I was fearful she didn’t want to see me and would cast me out.

She threw her arms around me in a tight embrace and I noted the pungent smell on her body and the grease layering her hair. She looked awful.

“You’ve lost weight, what’s wrong?” Her eyes held so much pain, it had only been ten days since our last tryst but her cheeks were hollowed now.

“Scotty, I was forbidden from seeing you ever again, Pap refuses to let us court, they can’t take you from me, they just can’t!” Mary began crying in torment. She loved me and she loved Edna and Pap for taking her in and caring for her as they had.

“Listen, we don’t have long. I have a lot to share with you.” I need her to settle down while I shared the recent events and formulated a plan.

I told her my version of my visit to Pap and how he rebuked my desire to court her and become betrothed. We discussed the dinner with the Wrights and the proposal to buy the farm, and then I told her about the animal murders. I needed to leave town until the dust settled. We talked about who could be setting me up and why, but nothing made sense.

I could sense her depression and it unnerved me. She had unraveled during our time apart. It was as if she abandoned herself when she felt despair, she went inward, to her safe place just like I did.

I wiped Mary’s brow, pushing her hair back off her face and kissing the tears as they fell one by one down her lovely cheeks.

“I love you, Tabitha.” It was the first time I spoke her name since the stoop in New York City. I wanted her to know I loved all of her, the frightened little girl who was my friend so long ago and the young woman with the scraggly unwashed hair who was my lover now.

She lifted the covers and invited me under. We talked more about the murders and my leaving. I promised to send word through the Wrights. They were the only people in town who believed in my innocence. They saw me fight to bring the calf into this world twice. They suggested I leave and make room for the real culprit to be found. I had my suspicions but didn’t want to point fingers yet.

They agreed to postpone the paperwork for the sale of the farm for a while and agreed to send word to Mary whenever they heard from me.

“We can run away, leave tonight, I only need a few things.” She begged to come with me.

I told her that would only make the both of us look suspicious, I needed her to stay here, keep her eyes open for anything unusual. I told her of my suspicions that Edmund was following me and to be careful around him. I also needed to know she was being taken care of so I could do what I had to without worry, so she needed to stay put.

“Where will you go?” Tabitha searched my eyes.

“I think I will look for Pauli and Candy. I have a brother or sister out there somewhere. I will start in New York City and ask around.” My sibling would be almost ten years old now, and all though we weren’t related by blood I would love that little rascal no matter what.

“Do you really think they could still be there? It’s been so long.” She worried for him.

“I don’t have any idea, but maybe somebody will know something. I will get a job and find a place to live. But, Mary, you have to decide what you want in the future. You have worked so hard for your degree and to be a teacher. It might be a year or so before I can come back here and buy the farm. Even then, we have to decide if we want to come back to a place that has scrutinized us and accused me of everything from petty theft to murder.”

“But you’re not a suspect!” Mary pleaded with me to stay, she felt certain the real animal slayer would be found.

“Yet,” I added.

“The only thing I would stay in Binghamton for is Edna; she has been so kind and generous to me. I really haven’t been grateful lately. I am just so angry she thinks she can take you away from me.”

“Yes, but she is being protective and acting just as your mother would, looking out for you, and what’s best for you.” Granted Edna was submissive, and agreed with Pap that someone of Mary’s stature needed an educated, well to do suitor.

“But how can they know what’s best for me? Why would they think I would be better off with a banker or lawyer than you? Those men who call for me don’t care about my feelings, or my thoughts, they just want a woman who runs a household, stays quiet, gives them children, and doesn’t complain or ask about money.”

“You’ve had callers?” Scotty was unaware.

“Don’t worry; they are all so stuck up it’s ridiculous. I only appease Edna by speaking with them cordially, dreaming of you all the while.” She nestled in to me then, her breasts brushing up against my shirt.

“I want to marry you, Mary, Tabitha, I love you. You know that right?”

“I know, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter where it is. If we are together we’ll be okay. My mama used to say that all the time. I feel stronger with you, and lost without you.” There was desperation in her voice.

“Even if it means being the wife of a farmer?” I asked.

“Especially if it means being the wife of a farmer!” She whispered.

“How will you cope if I am gone for a year, what if they force you to become engaged, or marry someone in the meantime?” I was panicking at the thought. Would she let herself go, or would she rise to the occasion and take care of herself physically.

“Let’s make a promise right now. I promise to love you and only you, to wait for you as long as it takes.” Mary held me close and stared into my eyes as she spoke.

“And I promise to love you and only you, and to wait for you as long as it takes, before making you my wife. But I need you to be brave, okay?” We held each other for a few moments, thinking of our future.

“But what about Edna and Pap, they don’t approve of me and that means you will have to go against their wishes,” I stammered.

“We’ll worry about that later, a lot can happen in a year.” Mary ran her fingers through my curls.

“One more thing, Mary, happy birthday.” Mary was turning nineteen years old tomorrow and I would not be here to celebrate with her.

Our kiss goodbye and movements under the covers said all we had in our hearts. The intimacy we shared was ours alone, no one could take that from us. It was more than passion, it was grief and mourning, and anger and confusion, culminating with worry and love and missing one another before we had parted. We became one before dawn, said tearful goodbyes and I left the way I came.

Chapter 11 The Client List

I soaked a sponge with vinegar before my next client appeared. But when it was Edmund who came knocking without an appointment I went back into the bathroom and retrieved it. Edmund was a well-dressed young man with a trim physique and broad shoulders. He was five foot nine, a good height for his age. He had both money and opportunity, and could have any woman he chose, yet he spent his free time with me. He wanted to learn, he said. So I taught him and in return he taught me. I had never allowed myself to release with a client, but Edmund took such bliss from my pleasure and such care in bringing it to me that I allowed him to kiss my mouth and use my name. He never penetrated me, except for the first time when he was drunk, he was saving that for someone special he said, so we employed every other method and enjoyed this shared experience.

Edmund was gentle and nurturing, always bringing me flowers or scents, or some other knick knack he thought I would enjoy. He didn’t like my room, it was ‘too sparse’ he said, and needed dressing up. But I didn’t want to personalize my space and allow clients to see the real woman I was becoming.

I adored floral scents, moisturizers and facial creams. I kept a small sample in a box behind my bed and used them for special clients only. That was as personal as I got.

He begged to take me to dinner and shows, or for strolls in the park along the water’s edge.

I told him I wouldn’t want to see any of my clients out and about, and put his reputation at stake.

He didn’t want me to worry about his reputation but with my particular client list I assured him he would want secrecy.

I was a prostitute who lied about her age. I was not someone’s lover, I had to reign myself in and object to Edmund’s fussing over me. But the man-child insisted he treat me to a walk and a beverage.

“It is such a lovely day out, you are always holed up in this room, let’s take some air.” Edmund was pleading with me and I really would enjoy a good stretch and walk.

Finally I acquiesced. After much primping I allowed him to take my arm as we strolled from the tavern, across town, and past the grocers where I saw Josiah stacking potted plants for sale.

“Do you know him?” Edmund directed my elbow down a curb.

“Do you really want the answer?” I wondered aloud.

“Yes, yes I do.” He was a bit flabbergasted.

“He is a client as well as a friend. He is one of the nicest men in town.”

“Well, what do you do with him?” The question was inappropriate.

I stopped abruptly and told him in no uncertain terms that it was none of his business what Josiah and I did during our time together.

Edmund was so distraught it was quite amusing.

We walked past the grocery store along the edge of town, venturing towards the ice cream parlor, passing the police station and town court along the way.

Mr. Carey had stepped outside for a smoke and nodded at us as we past.

“I suppose you ‘know’ him too, huh?”

“Edmund, if you are going to behave like this then we should just turn around now. Yes, I know the town judge; he comes the first Friday of the month. He is a kinky bastard, but treats me well and I like him. “

“He is kinky? What’s that even mean?”

“God you are such a prude, you know that?”

“Well, explain what makes someone kinky then. Let me in on the secret.”

“Well, let’s just say the justice likes to play dress up now and then. He also likes to implement toys during our time together. He often brings a sack of dress ups and we take on roles. It can be quite fun actually.” Edmund’s jaw had dropped so I told him to shut his mouth.

“This is all new to me, I suppose I need to find a robe and gavel then so we can a play at these games, hmm it does sound intriguing.” He teased.

“Yes, sometimes he has me dressed as school boy and sometimes as a nun, other times he wants me made up like the prostitute I am.”

“He calls me his dirty little wench and slaps my ass, but it’s really hilarious because he is finished quicker than you! The man salivates from the moment he enters my room withdrawing the day’s toys for our games.”

“Wow, I don’t even know what to say, Judge Carey, municipal by day, pervert by night.”

The day had taken a delightful turn, Edmund was more than interested in my clients and I thought of it as more teaching for him. We bought ice creams and fed the ducks our cones while sitting for a bit watching the children sailing tiny handmade boats.

“Now that man can’t be one of your clients.” Across from us were a man and wife, sharing a picnic amongst eight children.

“Actually, he comes every Wednesday at noon.” I laughed, but it was true.

“What!” Edmund protested, it can’t be, why he looks happily married, look at all those lovely children!”

“That’s precisely why he comes to me. The Mrs. doesn’t want any more children and has turned him out from her bedroom. He is hornier than you ever were, by the time he gets to me he is already hard. One time he couldn’t even make it to my bed; he jumped me with his pants on!” I laughed at the memory.

“I suppose it’s quicker that way.” Edmund didn’t really know what to say.

“It is, and he always pays me for the full hour although he doesn’t stay longer than twenty minutes. Sometimes he likes it twice.” I winked.

“Well, this is all very eye opening. Please, please tell me you have never had my dad, I just couldn’t live if he had been with you.”

“No, I haven’t, actually most men in town are upstanding, I have propositioned many with invitations but I have twenty or so regulars and that keeps me in room and board.”

“Does Mr. Smith know? He owns the tavern right?”

“Of course he knows, he is one of my better customers. I actually don’t mind him, he takes care of himself and smells nice, he doesn’t have a woman he leaves to come see me, and it pains him that I do this for a living, but he understands.”

“So far we have, black, horny, and kinky….how would you classify me?” Edmund asked.

“You are by far my best student!” I pecked Edmund on the cheek, took note of the time and said I had to be back by two thirty. When Edmund asked why, I scolded him and told him if he was to be my friend he would have to let it rest. I wasn’t going to tell him anything more.

“Ok fine, but I do have one more question. How do you keep from getting pregnant? Doesn’t it worry you?”

“I soak a sponge with vinegar and take a tonic every day. It worked for my mother, I was the only time she got pregnant and she had far more clients than I do.” My monthlies came regularly now, but I was unconcerned with getting pregnant, the men often pulled out in fear of just that. Besides, the tonic I took was said to be very potent and I drank it faithfully.

That explained the vinegar smell in her apartment.

Edmund grabbed my hand and pulled me towards a bench to sit once more.

“Gert, please don’t do this anymore. Allow me to help you somehow. You are so young and beautiful; you claim to be sixteen but I am certain that is a lie. I know if you let me we could find something else for you.”

“If I say I am sixteen, then I am sixteen. Who says I want anything else, who do you think you are anyway, my savior?” Edmund was looking at me differently now. I would turn fourteen next month, I was on my own and doing my best to survive. I wish he would just leave it alone.

“No, I certainly don’t think I am anyone’s savior but I wish I could help you.”

“I don’t need help and I don’t want your judgment. The only time I feel any shame at all for what I do is when I am judged, and that’s what you are doing right now.” I stood to leave.

“It’s just I want you for myself. Can you understand that?”

“I understand you are a jealous fool, who I thought was my friend, I was wrong. If you want to spend time with me take me as I am and don’t try to change me. Nothing makes me feel more like a prostitute than someone who wants to save and change me.” I stood and took my leave.

Edmund ran after me, “I am jealous, okay? I am jealous of any man who lays his hands on you. I know it’s what you do to survive, but Jesus, Gert, is that all you want from life?”

I smacked him hard across the face and hoped it left a mark that he would have to explain to his dear Sarah. What a bastard, trying to change me.

“Fuck you. The last thing I need is a martyr in my bed.” I said and stormed away.

***

I was ready for my three o’clock client when the door opened at two o’clock, a deputy to the sheriff stood before me with a baton in his hand.

What the fuck was this? I was scared I was going to be arrested, who had ratted me out, and all my clients were on the up and up.

“Settle down, little lady.” The wormy man edged his way into my room closing the door and locking it behind him.

“See I have been watching you for a while now, I find it quite interesting all the comings and goings from here.” He patted the baton on his leg.

“Well, we do take-out orders for the restaurant; so many people love our food.” It was a lousy excuse but the first thing I could think of.

“It seems to me you’re serving more than food, so I came to see what the fuss was.” He moved closer towards me and began taking off his shirt. He admired me from afar, holding me in his smarmy gaze while blocking the door.

“I am sorry, sir, but you have the wrong idea about me, I don’t know what you think, I work as a barmaid is all. Please leave.” I moved to the far side of my bed, flashbacks of my mom’s apartment filling my mind with dread.

“Uh huh, I see. You’re just a poor little barmaid. How about we give up the charade and you give me a little something that will help keep my mouth shut and keep you from the slammer, hmm? That sound like a good little idea?”

The heathen was upon me, taking off my shirt and ripping at my skirt, not caring to unfasten my buttons.

“You’re quite the beauty; I see why the men like you. Nice size breast, not too fat around the middle, you even smell nice.” He murmured to himself.

I was shaking in this man’s presence. He pinched my breasts and my middle, rubbing his hands down my legs before circling and appraising me.

“Yes, you’ll do just fine.”

The man had caught me completely off guard and I scrambled to think what to do, he was smothering my mouth so I couldn’t scream.

I noticed he was soft, until he slammed my head against my bed frame. Then he grew a tad, but still not enough. I had time and I looked around the room for something, anything that I could whack this guy with.

But he was too strong. He threw me up against the bed and straddled me, holding me down with one arm and working on himself with the other.

“Ha, you are pathetic, can’t even get hard.” I spit in his face.

He hit me hard across the cheekbone and I felt the bones in my upper jaw crack and my lips split, I tasted the blood too.

He was hard now and began his assault immediately. One hand was over my mouth and the other fondling my breasts. He kissed me across my neck, even lapping at the blood running from my split cheek.

“Nice girl, pretty girl, be quiet, that’s right.” He was coaxing me I knew because I could feel him softening again.

I started to smirk at the notion and he hit me with his fist this time, my eyes rolled backward into my head and I lost sense of time and place for a moment. His grunting brought me back; I kicked and bucked, trying desperately to get him off me.

The more I bucked and fought, the rougher he became and the more he liked it. He flipped me onto my stomach exposing my buttocks, parting my cheeks and entering my backside without any lubricant, I stifled a scream into my pillow. He was tearing at my insides, but if I screamed he would hit me again. If I let him have his way he would be soft again.

He knew this too so he taunted me, “You’re just a no good slut, aren’t you? A little slut without a mommy and daddy huh? Well you’re my little slut now. I’ll fuck you any way I want and you’ll take it, won’t you?”

He hit me again and pulled my hair from behind, bending me in an awkward position thrusting deeper into me.

“I said, you’ll be my little slut won’t you, you fucking wench?”

Finally he finished and he wiped the sweat from his brow. I got a good look at him and noted all the scarring he had across his chest.

“Oh, you like that? Good, cuz you’re about to get some, slut that you are. You need redemption now for your sins.”

He pulled his belt loose from the pants draped across my chair and held it over me. To my surprise he turned it so he held the leather stripping in one hand and the metal buckle down loose. He flapped it once in the air before whipping himself across the chest with it several times drawing blood. Then he turned it on me.

“See we are all just a bunch of sinners here in this room. We need to repent, beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you beg me I’ll go easy on you this time.”

I cried my heart out to him, “Please leave, I promise I will go to confession, I’ll do anything you want, please just leave.” I suddenly thought of Edmund’s offer to help.

He whipped me over and over across my breasts, my nipples bled, my skin tore open, and then he turned the buckle on himself, cursing himself all the while. He whipped his member over and over and then turned the whip back to me. He flipped me over once again, putting the belt to my bottom, whipping me and then himself in turn. I pleaded no more, but closed my eyes and begged to die.

“Open your eyes girl. I said open your eyes, god damn it.” He was hovering over me.

“That’s right, when you see me on the streets, and you will, you don’t know me understand? I gave you thirty lashings this time, but I can promise you that’s nothing compared to what you’ll get if anyone finds out about this. I mean anyone, not even pretty boy Edmund. So you just go on and tell everyone you’re sick until you feel better.”

His face haunted me, his eyes had no mercy or empathy, I forced my eyes to remain open, refusing to let him steal my dignity. I could hardly breathe from the pain and noted he was in agony too; he beat himself as savagely as he beat me with the belt. Blood pooled at his feet, and he dressed carefully, walked slowly, using the sparse furniture I had as a brace. He left the room and I fainted.

Someone was pounding at my door, I could hear it echoing, everything was so far away, I tried opening my eyes but it was next to impossible. When I woke I was in the hospital.

Chapter 12 Edmund

“Eddie, dear, someone is at the door for you.” Sarah called to me through the house.

“Won’t you please come in sir, I am sorry; I didn’t catch your name.” Sarah was polite as always even if it was the first black man to approach her door.

I rounded the corner to find Josiah standing in the entry-way speaking with Sarah; he had his cap across his chest and was politely refusing a glass of lemonade.

“Hi, do I know you?” I asked, quietly solicitous.

“Edmund, dear, don’t be so rude, this kind man came asking after you. Take him to the sitting room, won’t you.” Sarah pointed the way and left us to converse.

“Come in, Josiah, is it?” I led him to our sitting room, curiosity getting the better of me.

We settled ourselves across from one another rather awkwardly.

“What can I do for you, Josiah?” I asked with great interest.

“Sir, we have a problem.” He stammered when he spoke.

“Why I don’t even know you, how could we have a problem?” I was baffled.

“It’s Miss Gert, she has been badly hurt. We have to go to her right now.” His expression was full of anguish and I knew it must be bad if he came all the way here to get me.

“Okay, okay, just a minute.”

“Mom,” I called out frenetically to Sarah, “I need to help Josiah with a few things; I won’t be gone too long.”

We took my carriage into town and tied the horses to the tavern posts. We took the back steps two at a time to Gert’s room. What lay before me was horrific.

Gert lay in a puddle of blood; she had been ravaged, beaten, raped and tormented. She was unconscious at present.

“What the hell? Who did this?” I ran to her bedside and begged her to wake up.

“Gert! Gert! Sweetheart, wake up!”

“I came for my three o’clock appointment and found her like this.” Josiah looked everywhere but at Gert as he spoke.

“Did you see who came in or out before you?”

“No, sir, I only saw you with her earlier today when you was out walking together.”

“Jesus Christ. We have to get her to the hospital, now. Let’s keep her on the mattress, quick, you take the top, I’ll grab the bottom.” This was a crisis situation and I didn’t care one iota who witnessed the spectacle. However, because she lay naked across the bed, I took my jacket off and covered her with it for propriety.

The mattress wouldn’t fit down the narrow staircase so I scooped her into my arms and held her across my lap while Josiah took the reins.

Once we were at the hospital and had Gert settled into a room we both scratched our heads at who would have done such a thing.

Josiah and I knew Gert had clients by invitation only, I told him of the few clients I knew and he shared what he knew. The men we became aware of as her clients were immediately taken off our list of suspects.

“We need to call for the sheriff; this bastard has to be caught.” Josiah said with urgency.

“Wait, I have an idea. Can you stay with her for a little bit?” I asked.

I left the hospital and made my way back through town, stopping at the court-house.

“Excuse me, may I please see Mr. Carey, it’s a rather urgent matter.” I told the receptionist.

“He’s indisposed at the moment; perhaps you can leave your calling card, or make an appointment.” She barely acknowledged me as she spoke.

I slammed my fists on the table, “No, that won’t work, I need to see him immediately.” Finally she looked up.

The judge opened the door to see what the racket was and I rushed towards him.

“Sir, we have a rather sensitive problem, perhaps we can talk in your room.” I pleaded.

“What on earth is this about boy, who are you?” The judge was taller and more intimidating than I had previously imagined. I thought of him in wigs and lipstick, playing at games with Gert and would have had to stifle a laugh if the circumstances differed.

“My name is Edmund, sir, I have come about Gert.”

The judge took a step back. First he pretended not to know anyone by that name, but I assured him I would do nothing to besmirch his good name.

“She has been badly beaten, might even die. I have her at the hospital now.”

“I see. How disturbing indeed. Come with me son,” the judge straightened his wide necktie and grabbed his top hat, leaving word with his receptionist that he would be gone for the rest of the day.

We took my carriage back to the hospital and sat with Josiah. Gert was still unconscious and the doctor explained to us in more detail than perhaps any of us wanted, what had occurred to her.

“It appears this young lady was raped, and penetrated from behind. She was whipped with a studded belt, across her breasts, abdomen and pelvis. She was then flipped over and whipped once again; the open wounds on her back begin across her shoulders and end just below her buttocks. The damage she has suffered internally may be repairable if we take her into surgery right now, but I fear the worst for her state of mind, after a beating like this, she may never be the same.” The doctor searched our eyes.

“She will need home care for a long time and most likely psychiatric care, too,” the doctor said.

I wondered if she had any doctors on her client list. Then felt shame for even having the thought.

“Before I can take her into surgery, and please pardon me for asking, but does she have any means to pay?”

“Consider it paid for doctor, I will see to it personally.” Judge Carey said. He had an affinity for Gert, we all did.

The doctor and nursing staff may have guessed what really happened to Gert. She was a young orphan girl presumably in her teens, living on her own in the city, working in a bar as a maid; regardless she didn’t deserve to be battered and left to die. Given the presence of the judge they set to work on the patient immediately. Several nurses entered Gert’s room, prepped her for surgery, and wheeled her past us towards the surgical suite.

Chapter 13 Mary

I felt the baby move in my fourteenth week. So far I had hidden the pregnancy from everyone. I had lost so much weight when I was forbidden from courting Scotty that to everyone around me I finally looked to be normal weight once more.

I resumed my normal schedule that consisted primarily of going to school and then studying in order to stay on tract to graduate in the spring. I ate supper with the family, tutored elementary children, and stayed on top of my chores. But sometime in the next month or so I would begin to show.

I prayed with all my might that I would get word from Scotty soon. The Wrights promised to pass along any information they had but so far nothing had come.

I was woozy the first several months of my pregnancy, certain smells made me ill and sleeping was becoming more difficult. One morning I came downstairs to Edna frying bacon and I passed out.

I woke to droplets of water being spattered across my face. Edna was panicked.

I assured her I was dizzy because I hadn’t eaten since lunch-time the day before. There was nothing else to worry about. She over-fed me all day and although I wanted to purge I had to keep things down or she would suspect.

At night I lay in bed feeling the baby move and thanking God above for this blessing. He or she would be loved by a mother and father, and God willing his or her grandparents would not shun us. I was terrified of their reaction to the pregnancy. Scotty and I had discussed having children, but certainly not until we were wed. It was all so overwhelming, but we had sensibilities on how to survive. The days of our furtive embraces lay behind us.

Chapter 14 Bartholomew

I observed the comings and goings of the Ale House wench for a month while taking my afternoon lunch and evening suppers at the tavern. I sat in the back corner of the restaurant facing the bar. I was able to see the back staircase by angling my body adjacent to the mirror that hung straight across the top shelf liquor allowing me to see both the reflection and identities of those who defiled the sanctity of the place. The black man came weekly for service, always looking around like the weasel he was and gulping down a stout before slinking up the back stairs to her room. The tavern owner took his turn as well, spending more time than the others with her, grunting and groaning while she stifled screams from their trysts. Gentlemen I had yet to become acquainted with came to see her as if on a mission, not bothering with the pretense of eating in the tavern, walking straight through the front door, past the bar and up the back stair case. Then there was the judge. He carried a case with him when he came, the case was fairly large so obviously didn’t hold paper work, I snuck up after him and listened at the door, behaving like a peeping Tom, while the slut and her master played at games. He liked to dress her up as a queen and he would be the jester, or he would be a cowboy and she a cowgirl, lasso's and fake guns were all a part of the game, and I heard her gasp when he pulled out handcuffs, the clicking, locking sound of them stiffened me right away and I took care of myself, spilling onto the carpet in front of her door. Younger lads as well as those old and grey came to visit Gert, but the young man with curly hair that flowed freely beneath his top hat caught my attention. He was not a full grown man, yet he visited Gert daily. I stood at their door listening while they laughed and grunted playfully, enjoying every moment shared in her bed. It sickened me, they were both sinners, we were all sinners.

I had lost control once again, thinking of the man-child who walked through this measly shell of a town. The boy was petite and well-manicured, I wanted to tug at and feel his soft curls beneath his top hat. I lusted after him, thought of him endlessly and dreamed of him as well, this evil line of thinking needed to be curbed. It was unnatural, ungodly and I must suffer now. I flogged myself with my switch for my impure thoughts in the early morning hours upon waking to a wet dream. Later in the afternoon when I saw the man-child accompany the harlot through town I had enough. She held his arm at the crook of his elbow and they waltzed through town without remorse or guilt. They fed the ducks, ate ice cream, held hands a time or two as well.

I had taken twin sisters who were acting as escorts down in Elmira, and left the city before anyone was the wiser. They got the cat o’ nine tails before I snapped their scrawny little necks, the both of them left in pools of blood, never to defile young men again. The innocence of our youth was gone with harlots on every street corner, and doing business out of the towns’ taverns.

If one more person comes out of that conniving slut’s room today I swear I will go up there and make her pay. Sure enough, an older wrinkly gent walked down the staircase, adjusting himself at the bottom step before sitting at the bar and ordering a sandwich and beer to wash it down. I knew the hours of one and two were busy in the tavern, making it harder to discern between Gert’s customers and the tavern’s. I had yet to see anyone go to her at this hour and that’s when I made my move. I had with me my rod and purposefully wore my metal studded belt when I dressed this morning.

She was shocked when she opened the door to find me outside, she even feigned illness and told me to go away. Now why in the world would she service dozens of men but not me? This made me mad and curious. I pushed my way in to her room, observing the pungent smell of sweat, sex and roses; the combination was musty and tangy. I had unnerved her, good, she wasn’t used to playing rough, but after today she would beg for it. I pushed her towards the bed, banging her head on the frame, the sight of blood made me stiffen, I forced open her legs, but she fought me, kicking me off with all her might. I was not delusional; I knew what games she played at in this room, now she was going to be subject to my punishment. I was the law in this town and could just as easily take her in for questioning, but the sheriff was too busy for that nonsense, so instead I would teach her a thing or two. How it felt to be entered by a real man.

The harlot, threw water on my face, bit my mouth and bucked wildly beneath me. I rather enjoyed this coy act, but softened when she grew still.

“Beg for forgiveness for your sins and I will take mercy on you!” I demanded.

“For my sins? What about yours?” She had the audacity to question my presence.

“You question me?” I followed my retort with a swift backhand to her pretty little face, maybe it wouldn’t be so pretty anymore and her clients would lose interest in her services.

“You’re raping me! Get off, get out!” She tried screaming and began throttling me with her fists, almost managing to get out from under me; I flipped her over then and took her from the back, putting this dog in her rightful position. If she wouldn’t beg for mercy, then she would pay.

“Ask God for forgiveness!” I demanded again, but she refused.

When I was through with her I shimmied my belt from my trousers and began my bodily penance in front of her. I lost control and needed redemption; I felt guilt for having succumbed to this weaker side of me. My body was purely evil and needed controlling, pain was the answer. I subjected the wench to my belt for punishment as well. Quoting the Bible to her all the while I drew blood, pleading with her to ask for forgiveness but she refused. I left her alive, but if I ever saw the man-child enter her room again, she would be sorry. She was defiling his innocence.

I sat quietly and dutifully behind my desk in the sheriff’s office doing paper work. Droplets of blood threatened to seep through my trousers. Walking was near impossible in my current state, pissing out of the question, so I would take no fluids. Bodily penance was necessary to show remorse for my sins. My member and balls were swollen beyond recognition, and the open wounds on my thighs rubbed against the material on my pants, causing great pain that I deserved. My thoughts were impure.

I wished to defile and disgrace every man that walked through the tavern doors up the back steps to Gert’s room, starting with the boy. I would begin my search for the man-child, Edmund, and start with him, next the blackie. First I needed healing, I would pray for forgiveness for my weakness, beg for mercy and strength to do what was right. The voice that spoke to me, whispering in my ear said, “God wants you to kill them all.”

Chapter 15 Amnesia

I woke to the sound of birds chirping. Their melodic song was long and drawn out, one bird calling to its companion carrying a message. Looking at my surroundings, I had no idea where I was and no one to call to. I felt overwhelming distress by my lack of recognition to this room and could feel hives welling up and spreading out across my neck. Anxiety and panic set in; I scanned the room desperately, willing myself to remember it. I focused first on the large volume of butterflies organized by class and displayed within a handsome shadow box on the wall before me. Viceroys, Admirals, Emperors, Snouts, Swallowtails, and Skippers with magnificent markings and impressive wing spans stared at me with their eye spots. I settled on the blue Morpho butterfly, her metallic turquoise blue wings were stunning. I made her my point of focus when my panic became overwhelming. Staring at her dull brown underside, I counted her eye spots and estimated her wing span somewhere between five and six inches. Then I closed my eyes, imagining this lovely creature among a field of flowers, lilies, tulips, and roses. I was far more relaxed after this exercise and used it to calm myself.

In the far corner of the room sat a leather chair, draped across it was a cabled ivory afghan. Beside the chair stood a bombay style stone top walnut dresser that was elegantly carved with a leaf motif. Its matching side table was to my right and it held a decanter of water, presumably for me. Flowered taffeta draperies flanked the windows and the colorful braided rug indicated to me that this was the home of a woman. Her décor was stylish and sensible.

I poured from the decanter and took a sip of the cool water, my throat throbbed and swallowing was difficult but not impossible.

A woman entered the room and once again my fingers tingled with anxiety and I dropped the glass.

“Where am I?” I asked, my voice shaking as I failed recognize the woman tending me.

“There, there child, you will be all right. We are taking very good care of you. Edmund and the judge wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Edmund, who is Edmund?” I didn’t know anyone by the name of Edmund and as for a judge, did this mean I was in trouble?

“Edmund is my son, as well as your friend. The judge is a friend as well. Edmund found you, and asked if we could care for you here in our home while you recovered.”

Speaking was difficult on account of the wounds in my throat, so the woman gentled me with her hand and pulled the cabled afghan from its home on the chair and laid it across my lap. She put me in a sitting position and began wetting a clean white towel in the basin of water she carried with her and sat on the side table. The warmth felt nice and her gentle demeanor put me at ease. She hummed a tune I didn’t recognize as she proceeded to give me a sponge bath starting with my face and neck. When she reached my torso, she sought my eyes before continuing.

“Gert, darling, you were badly hurt. If it pains you too much to look please, dear, close your eyes and let me tend these wounds. I have much experience and promise to be gentle.”

The first wrapping this woman pulled off my chest was painless, but those that followed had me wincing. I wanted to look at my body and therefore opened my eyes. I was covered in gaping wounds, although they appeared to be healing which, this woman said, was the reason they itched. There were no active bleeds and after the woman cleansed them, she administered a salve that was thick and gooey. She bathed me for a half hour, explaining she would allow me to get some rest before returning to do my back.

My back? Was my back full of gouges as well? I couldn’t imagine what happened, but she called me Gert, and yes, I remember that as my name. I remember the crisp way the ‘t’ rolled off my tongue cementing my name.

I searched my memory for anything else having to do with me, a bedroom perhaps, a family, personal effects, but it was all in vain.

Hopeless I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion soak through my bones.

Chapter 16 Edmund

“Mother, Father, please, I beg of you to allow Gert to stay with us for her follow up care.”

“Who is she Edmund? How are the two of you acquainted?” They were suspicious at first of my relationship with her.

“She is a close friend who has fallen on hard times recently; she has lost both of her parents and works at the Ale House in town.” The less I said the better.

“How has she been providing for herself, where does she live?” Mother asked.

“The Ale House provides her with room and board. She would be too vulnerable there now, Mother, she isn’t safe. We must allow her to reside in the guest room until she resumes her memory and strength.”

“Didn’t the judge offer to care for her?” Father asked.

“Yes, Father, he did. But I thought because of Mother’s hands-on experience as a hospital volunteer perhaps she would be better off staying with us, besides we have the room.”

When they asked further about the nature of my friendship with Gert I lied, stating I tutored her occasionally because her job no longer allowed her time for school. My mother and father consulted in private on the matter and decided it would be Christian and charitable to take on such a case, so they permitted Gert to use our guest room and took on the responsibility of her care. Whether or not they suspected Gert’s secondary occupation as a prostitute they never mentioned it, however, to them that would make the undertaking even more Christian.

The woman I loved lay stripped of her dignity and near death in the room next to mine. I could hear her crying out in pain at night and whimpering during the day. Her torment was both physical and psychological, I wanted to go to her, slide in bed with her under a cocoon of covers, wrapping her in my embrace and kissing her worries away. Some say I am too young for feelings so intense, but regardless of my age, my heart was breaking. It was visceral, this feeling of protection and agitation for Gert all at the same time. If only she let me help her. If she only understood I didn’t look at her as charity, I just couldn’t stand to see her spreading her legs and servicing men aside from me any longer. She told me more than once that if it bothered me we could no longer be friends. It did bother me, but rather than part ways and lose her influence in my life I tolerated what she did. Now that she lay in and out of consciousness, confused and torn I wish I was more insistent, less tolerant and adamant actually that she quit her days as a prostitute. I could have saved her.

We had a psychologist specializing in trauma to see her and then help us understand what was going on. He called her condition ‘amnestic syndrome’ or amnesia. Her case of amnesia was ‘retrograde’ meaning she had an impaired ability to recall past events and information that was previously familiar. It was possible she could recall childhood experiences that were deeply ingrained in her memories; however her brain blocked anything recent due to both the physical and emotional trauma she experienced. The doctor explained to us that her memory loss was isolated, but that it wouldn’t change Gert’s intelligence, or her awareness and personality. He went on to say seizures, tremors, and difficulty with small motor movements were possible and to be on the lookout for them.

“Allow me to spend time with her Mother, please.”

“Son, she needs time to recover for a few days first. She remembers nothing at all, only recollecting her name.” Sarah feared the presence of a man might set her back and because this young lady was already so anxious she thought it best she did the tending. Sometimes Aunt Edna helped as well; tending to her while she used the bathroom was a particular challenge.

“What if she doesn’t remember me?” I cast the thought aside; she had to remember me.

I spent my time deciphering who among Gert’s clients would have any vendetta towards her. Who would beat her so savagely and why; she never hurt anyone.

I loved her, I knew this now. It took me a little while to recognize this feeling, the tingling in the pit of my stomach, the longing and then the breaking of my heart when seeing her lying beaten and unconscious. I thought my feelings lay in wait for Mary; I obsessed over her non-stop. Mary in fact was the reason I went to Gert in the first place. I was sexually frustrated and took it upon myself to find help. I also wanted lessons in order to be a better man for Mary who I imagined as my future wife.

Gert obliged me in every way possible. She exuded patience when I finished too soon and taught me how to clench myself at the base so I could proceed for longer periods of time. She allowed me to kiss her, something most of her other callers weren’t permitted, and our kisses were full of tenderness and something else. She taught me to use gentle sweeps of my lips and to keep them moist at all times. She taught me the art of massage, beginning with warm, scented rose oil that she infused herself. I started at the base of her skull, taking my time and working my way down her muscles with soothing, tapping, and kneading strokes. She taught me to use my thumbs and fingertips, working them in deep circles into the thickest part of her muscles for the greatest relief of muscle tension. I followed by flattening my hands across her back and shaking rapidly, loosening the blood, getting it flowing and creating energy.

When she returned the favor on me, I was in heaven, except for the smelling like roses part.

This woman was strong and uncommonly brave; she had been on her own for nearly a year, creating a life and supporting herself. Granted I hated what she did and how she earned a living, I refused to be a martyr, as she accused me on one occasion when I asked her to allow me to help her.

“But Gert, there is so much more for you to become!” I pleaded with her to find another way before she got hurt or contracted syphilis, but I was unable to get through. I suspected she was younger than the age she proclaimed to be but wasn’t going to press the issue with her now.

An investigation was underway. The sheriff had been contacted and was meeting with the judge today. I had an appointment with him after lunch to see what progress if any had been made to catch the rapist.

Josiah and I walked the streets, looking for anyone new in town. We asked the tavern owner if he had seen anyone new in or out and except for the deputy this month everyone was a regular. The tavern owner did try to look out for Gert, fearing for her naivety and he was beyond words when we told him what happened to her.

Surely the sheriff would be speaking with all his deputies and they would continue the search until he was found. They assured us they were doing everything possible.

Until then, I had to find Gert a new home. Perhaps she would be my betrothed. I loved her and would propose that we become engaged at once, we could marry in three and a half years’ time when I was eighteen. I counted my money and had more than enough for a down payment on a suitable ring. I normally would be asking her for an opinion on such a topic but because she was unavailable I needed to seek Mary’s advice.

“Good day, Auntie Edna!” I chimed in through the window, catching Edna kneading her famous beer bread.

“Eddie, come in, come in. Sit. Let me get you a drink.” She wiped her hands on her apron.

“Oh don’t go to any trouble for me, Aunt Edna; I only came to see Mary, is she home today?” I looked around the tidy home but there was no sign of Mary downstairs.

“She is home, upstairs studying I believe. Go on up.” She nodded towards the stairs.

I made my way out of the kitchen but first Edna asked me about Gert, “no change” I said feeling forlorn.

I approached Mary’s room, knocking lightly, but when she didn’t hear me I opened it a crack and peered in. What I saw before me was shocking. Mary was looking at her profile in the looking glass, her hand was gently pressed on her belly which indeed looked swollen.

She stammered and shuddered when she realized I was peering in the room and I feared she would holler and scream at me again as she had been doing. I suppose I had really gotten on her nerves, she was more apt to tell me to get lost these days than to invite me into chat.

“I am terribly sorry.” I began closing the door but she ran to me and pulled me in the room.

She looked down and shook her head. “What am I to do?” It appeared as she had been walking small recently, hunching over and keeping her arms tight at her sides, I read her body language incorrectly, for I thought it was insecurity, having no notion until this very moment that it was so no one would notice the child growing within. But upon seeing her in her naked, shift pulled up and over her budding belly, it was impossible not to notice.

“So it’s true, then, or was I just imagining you looking as if you were with child?”

“It is true.” Mary looked embarrassed, and refused to meet my penetrating gaze.

“How far along are you?” I asked sternly.

“Seventeen weeks to the day.”

“Am I to presume Scotty is the father of this child?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know?”

“No, he left right after our first time, well, our only time.”

I was fuming mad. What was with the men in this godforsaken town? One brutally beating the woman I love and the other impregnating my cousin whom I thought I loved.

“He is a bastard. He had no right to do this to you, was it forced? We shall find him and have him arrested at once.”

“God, Eddie, No! I wanted this. I told you, I love him. I invited him into my bed and not only allowed it but asked for it. Besides, I am not a child anymore! I am nineteen, old enough to make my own decisions.”

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. “But he should have known better, he is a man for God sakes; he knows how to protect you from such things. Where is he, I will bring him to you at once.” The starch from my cravat was irritating my nose something awful forcing me to sneeze.

“Eddie, listen to me. He left town after the animals were murdered at the Wrights’.”

“I’ll bet he did,” I said, stepping lightly around the topic hoping she didn’t sense my unease.

“I realize Scotty isn’t as dapper and refined as you,” she assessed my fine clothing, from the velvet collar on my frock to the turned up sleeves on my crisp white dress shirt that was tucked into a bold plaid trouser pant, “but he is no murderer. He actually birthed one of the calves and then revived it when they thought it was dead. The Wrights sent him away until the dust settles. They believe him, and so do I.”

“Hmmm. Well, no matter, he must find out about the child. Unless.” I was pensive for a moment.

“Unless, what, Edmund?” Mary asked eagerly. “Unless Mary, you wish to marry me?” I got down before Mary on one knee and offered her my hand in marriage to save her from shaming herself and her family. I didn’t love her as I thought, I wanted to spend my life with Gert, but I would do this, it would be a small sacrifice for all the love and care she bestowed upon me when I was a child. It was ironic, though, that I came here to ask for her help in choosing a ring for Gert.

“Marry you?” she fingered the ruching on her sleeves inseams nervously, and said, “Eddie, you are so dear to me, and I love you for asking, for being willing to take another man’s child as your own to protect my name. But I love Scotty and furthermore you and I are cousins, more like brother and sister and it wouldn’t be right. Besides, Edmund, you are but a child yourself.”

I felt the truth sting much like the slap she gave me when I forced a kiss upon her. However, several points needed to be debated.

“First of all, we aren’t biologically related; secondly, we could be very happy, Mary. I have proved to be good at making money, I am accelerated in all my courses, plan to graduate a year early, and then go to law school. Furthermore, I take insult to you calling me a child. I’ll have you know I am a man now.” I cleared my throat upon the admission and let her mind wander as to what precisely this meant. I was nearly fifteen, was now as tall as Pap, and behaved more like a man than half the idiots in this town.

We sat in silence on the bed, each lost in thought. I thought about my intimacy with Gert and shook my head at her current befouled state.

“After what we suffered through as children, above all else we have to be certain this one has a home, and two parents to love it for its entire life.” They both thought back to their time aboard the orphan train with angst. Mary at least remembered her family; I didn’t, although in recent years we found out my mother most likely died from typhoid or yellow fever. My father was still unknown.

I took off my frock, adjusted my vest and cravat before taking Mary by the hands.

“How are you feeling? Have you been ill?” She had filled out now that I took the time to notice, her breasts were swollen and her belly protruding slightly, the secret would not be a secret for much longer.

“I had morning sickness for a few weeks, and it was challenging with Edna hovering. I told her it was a stomach bug and she believed me. Now I feel better, energetic actually, the baby is moving, want to feel?”

She grabbed my hand before I could say no and placed it directly on her belly, sure enough the baby kicked.

“Ha! I felt that!” What a delight. Perhaps this was cause for celebration rather than worry and angst. I told Mary so, but she feared over Edna and Pap, not wanting to besmirch their good name.

“They dislike Scotty, which is not fair. Just because he doesn’t dress like they do and hold a higher degree gives them no cause, no cause at all. He is a man now, Eddie, a truly good man. If he knew I was with child he would find a way through this.”

“It seems trouble follows him, does it not? Are you sure you won’t change your mind about this?”

“I am certain. I wanted this. I love this child already and love Scotty more than I ever thought possible.”

“Well then, I must go find him for you. I will say I have business for the paper. Wait, where do you suppose he is?”

“He is in the city, the last place you want to go. They won’t believe you, nor will they let you go back to the city un-chaperoned, you are only a boy.”

“Hmmm, you are right, I never wanted to go back to that rotten place but if I must I will do it. I have to figure out a way to get their permission. I am not a boy, I am a young man. You must stop thinking of me that way. Why New York anyhow? What’s there for Scotty?”

“He was searching for Pauli and Candy.” Mary told me all about Pauli and Candy, and more about Scotty than I had ever known. He was no different from Mary, myself, or Gert even. We were all survivors. Children that were orphaned for various reasons, with a legacy no less.

“I have a delicate situation at home, did you hear about my friend Gert?” I proceeded to tell Mary about my trysts with Gert, neither of us was so perfect after all. She was devastated that such a thing could happen in our small town. No matter what, she would see to it that Gert was taken care of. She would volunteer to help her and tend her every need while I was away. I knew this to be true as Gert could be in no better hands than those of the three women I was lucky enough to call my family.

I rose early the following morning, my bags were packed and I needed only to feign an excuse to go away for a few days. Perhaps I could tell Sarah that seeing Gert in so much distress was just too unsettling, and I needed to go somewhere alone where I could think. She wouldn’t buy the story that the newspaper I worked for on weekends doing deliveries and sometimes articles would send me to the city for business.

Before I finished contemplating this Sarah was bustling down the hallway towards Gert’s room, but she popped her head in to say good morning to me and dropped a note that was left by Mary earlier while she was heading to tutor a student before school hours.

The note read;

My Dearest Edmund, Eddie,

I simply cannot let you go to New York City; it is no place for a young lad such as yourself. I remember the streets well and am certain I will find my love and be home soon. Please do not concern yourself with me, remember that I survived the streets alone as a very small child, so surely I can do so now. I have taken my allowance with me and will secure a room in a decent hotel. It will feel strange to board a train once more without you in my arms for security. I will miss you. I left Edna and Pap a note, telling them of my predicament. I hope they can find it in their hearts to make room for my child, and forgiveness for me. But I must follow my heart…for I no longer have only myself to think of.

Love Forever,

Mary

I folded the note in fours and tucked it under my mattress, “Oh Mary, what have you done?”

Chapter 17 The Fight Circuit

Anger pulsed through my veins with such velocity it was difficult to sit still on the train ride from Binghamton to New York City. Eyes closed, my reverie was induced by the train screeching and winding along the curvaceous tracks, whistling its horn, the scenery outside my window as desolate now as it was all those years ago. Babies cried constantly as they did on my last fateful trip, people mingled, and dined. The only difference was these passengers had specific destinations and were going about their business. Some were on their way to or from a work conference, dressed in a business casual manner, gentlemen in tweed suits, ladies with bonnets and straight dresses, children in colorful prints excited by the adventure they undertook.

I had not thought this trip would be so burdensome, forcing me to think about what I left behind both in Binghamton now and in the city all those years ago. I reflected on my siblings, little Eli would be a teenager now if he were still alive. Guilt nagged at my insides, making me nauseous at the thought of Eli in a gang or begging for food on a corner somewhere, worse he could be dead along with thousands of other orphans. Thoughts of my mother and father entered my mind although I pushed them aside, not wanting them to interfere with my current frustrated mental state. These thoughts would threaten to pull me down further under my pity, forcing me to wallow all the more from missing Mary and going back to this pit I once called home.

Upon my arrival I took note that the city had not changed much since I left. The fast moving current of people disregarded the putrid stench of piss and shit that assaulted my nose once again. There were wall to wall people milling about in the Five Points speaking hundreds of languages. Abandoned children still paraded through the streets, picking through garbage and begging for money. The scene was nothing if not pathetic. I was overcome that I was once a child of the streets; did I really look so ragged? I spent many years begging, sweeping, and finally fighting, quite literally for my life. It was more obvious to me now than ever before, had I stayed here and not gone on the orphan train, I would surely be dead.

I desperately wanted to help the children, put them on the trains that were still in operation and send them towards a chance for a better life. I empathized with their plight and struggle just to stay alive. Pauli helped provide me with food and shelter for a time, but more often than not I was left to my own devices, getting into trouble, fighting for survival, stealing and begging just as thousands of kids were doing now.

I had to find Pauli and meet the child he and Candy shared, my sibling. He may be able to help me find work and keep my mind from worrying too much about Mary. If they were not here I would bide my time, help as many orphans as possible before going back to Binghamton.

I desperately missed Mary and promised to get word to her, but that was challenging. So far I had found nothing but trouble. Employment was next to impossible in the city, the more I looked for work the more bereft I became. My money was dwindling fast. The Wrights sent me with fifty dollars, but after spending several nights in a decent hotel and paying for meals I was nearly broke again. What was it about this city that made me feel so incompetent? It was impossible to get ahead.

I saw posters for ‘world champion fights’ on nearly every street corner. “Vladimir the Victor” was to fight the Irish immigrant named Patrick Kelly tonight. I had to be there, if Pauli was anywhere in this God forsaken city, he would be at a fight.

I shuffled through the fast moving current of people to the arena on Anthony Street early, donned my old spy hat and slipped unnoticed behind the scenes of each team. Trainers were on hand as well as one or two doctors per team. Back when I fought, there was no doctor, just Pauli, if you broke your nose, he straightened it, and if you were bleeding you taped it. Broken ribs, you suffered through but no one ever required a doctor. This must be one hell of a match up. Vladimir wore faux leather shorts with fur trim; he was an enormous showboat, getting the crowd riled up by filling the arena with taunts and jeers at his opponent’s country. His shoulders were the size of cantaloupes and were just as hairy as the rest of him. He was imposing physically, but when in the ring facing his opponent, he gave him a death glare, his stone face not once twitching. Patrick Kelly bravely entered the ring wearing green shorts to represent his country, the crowd cheered for him. The opening bell rang and Patrick held his own for the first three rounds, using interesting combinations and a fantastic straight punch, but then pain and exhaustion set in. He had taken too many hits to the gut and was no match for Vladimir. He went down ten seconds into the fourth round, when Vladimir searched the crowd, looking for someone else to fight I met his eyes, but was not up to the challenge. Yet.

I spoke to the bookies asking them what type of money was involved if someone beat Vladimir and how many people had tried? I looked at the crowd mingling around me, thinking if I could find someone meeting Vlad’s stature, I could train him and take a percentage of the winnings to help me get by for the time being. I remembered my skills, had honed them regularly to keep in shape. I also scanned the crowd for Pauli.

The fight atmosphere tickled my blood; I felt a surge of adrenaline watching the following match ups. Fighting had been a part of my life and once it’s in your blood it’s hard not to get sucked back in. I could practically feel myself in the ring throwing punches, jab, punch, straight, uppercut, and jab. Here was a place where you took matters into your own hands, no one made decisions for you, told you what to do or how.

Several more days spent searching for Candy and Pauli in Five Points left me broke. I would walk everywhere I went now, and had decided to head further up town and have a look around.

I was smitten with the Broadway theater notices and posters lining the streets advertising operettas and pantomimes, and even felt tempted towards the museums that had opened in recent years. However, the more I searched the hungrier I grew and more dire my circumstances became. I had checked the Brewery and every other factory known for fighting and gambling in town, and needed to decide whether or not I should stay or face my discord and head home. Home, that was an unusual word coming from an orphaned child, now farm boy, particularly one suspected of heinous crimes.

I went back to the arena where the fights were held and asked around once more for Pauli and Candice. I got to talking with a trainer and he offered my one hundred dollars in an amateur bout in one week. He said I could use the facilities and eat with their team. They called themselves the ‘Gutter Boys’.

The Gutter Boys grew up in the dredges of Five Points and were often pitted against one another anyway; they put together a team of ruffians willing to fight and so far had done quite well. They made money because most people bet against them, they were scrappy and smaller than most of their opponents.

I agreed to the fight. One hundred dollars would get me home and give me some money left over that I could use to start a bank account.

I started my training immediately, greeting the day with a mixture of hope and fear. I broke my fast with a plate of eggs, fried chicken, plenty of fruit and yogurt and toast, gobbling it down as if it were my last meal.

It might not be a smart move but it was going to earn me much needed money.

Chapter 18 Meeting Sonya

Bereft of emotion while traversing through the countryside from Binghamton to New York, I pushed away thoughts of Sister Agnes in her black habit and the hand whittled wooden cross she wore hanging on its shoestring cord around her neck. The resolute, conservative Mr. and Mrs. Porter, the other chaperones on our train ride west so long ago threatened to creep into and cloud my mind as well. However I tried, it was nearly impossible not to have flashbacks, the stale smell of the train and the feel of the stiff wooden seats catapulted me back in time. The ride west was long and lonely; siblings were ripped apart and sold, fostered or adopted. Uprooted and afraid, the remaining kids on the train cried non-stop. It was my job to wipe runny noses and comfort the neglected children. It was a miserable position; literally gut wrenching to feel unwanted by society and to be ripped from the only anchor keeping you intact. I remembered when Edmund was taken from me, the agony of losing him brought on tremors and night terrors; I was alone again as I am this very moment, but if there was one thing I knew how to do, it was take care of myself.

I closed my eyes in concentration when thinking about my biological parents, as well as Edmund’s. I spoke with Sister Agnes once on my Edmund’s behalf and found his mother had grown very ill with typhoid fever and had a neighbor bring him to the Sisters of Charity before her death. Typhoid was abundant in New York City on account of the sewage and sludge contaminating the drinking water and food supply. Eddie’s father remained a mystery as was his mother’s occupation. Was she a stripper, a dancer, someone who became impregnated by accident? Or did she and his father love each other? Was he a hero perhaps fighting in the war, was he a deputy attempting to keep order as New York had its largest ever influx of immigrants? Was he murdered? Was he an addict of some sort, or did he in fact hold a responsible job, but die from an accident? This we would never know, but the questions about our families consumed us and poisoned our minds with what ifs.

Luckily this trip was to be short; a mere four hours on the train would land me in New York City, time enough to formulate a plan. I was feeling a tad woozy and clenched my belly, promising my unborn child that we would find its father. I called on my inner strength, resolute that this trip to New York would accomplish two things. One, I would find Scotty and bring him home with me, and two, I would find Sister Agnes. She was instrumental in turning my life around for the better and I couldn’t wait to visit with her.

I would begin looking for Scotty in the Five Points, starting in Paradise Square. When the train lurched to a halt at Grand Central Station, I stumbled off the platform, looking about my surroundings expectantly for Scotty. It was wishful thinking, Scotty was not here. But several men did approach me, seeing a single woman unaccompanied in the city left me open for a wide variety of sinister propositions. Men asked where I was staying, they whistled at me and called me a star-gazer. Some even offered to carry my bags, but I declined them all, worried from the stories I heard of young women being kidnapped, and of all things, sold into prostitution. Street thugs appeared out of nowhere wishing to be helpful, but in reality they wanted my wallet, or my virtue, neither which they would get. It was a lawless, corrupt city and my inner child, that scrappy little girl who kicked, hit, and lashed out at strangers, came out to protect me. I walked with my head held high, as my inner child guided me along the grimy city sidewalks, checking my back and keeping me safe until I found my hotel and checked my bags. I had never been in a hotel alone before, but I would manage. I ordered a carriage and set about my way to the Five Points; Walton Street would be my first stop.

I did not have a photo of Scotty, or of Pauli and Candy, in fact I had never met either of them, but I felt I would recognize them right away if crossing them on the street on account of the detailed descriptions Scotty gave me of their appearance and characters. Walking along Walton Street I saw great amounts of destitution and was overwhelmed with a need to intercede on behalf of the dozens of orphans I saw. I forgot myself, stopping to speak to numerous children; a young girl in rags approached me looking longingly at my food. I shared my sandwich with her on a street bench watching her engulf the bread and its meaty center. She had dark brown eyes, long lashes, and was covered in filth. Her outfit was threadbare, and many sizes too small. She wore no shoes and told me her name was Sonya. I inquired as to her family, and home, but she shrugged her shoulders in answer. She was painfully shy but managing, and fending for herself as so many others did. She became my shadow, following me about the city, her bare feet slapping the mud as I went in search of information on Scotty. I checked the shipping docks, thinking perhaps he picked up work there. When I didn’t see him there I went to the newspaper stands, storefronts, even hotels, but to no avail. Scotty was either currently at work or still in search of it; perhaps he had left the city all together. I had not heard from him in ten weeks and was suddenly panicked and felt very much alone. What if I never found him, I would have to go home tail between my legs and face Edna and Pap, Sarah and Uncle Sam, as well as Edmund. What would they think of me now, that I was a no good hussy, a loose wanton woman willing to give up her future of a school teacher for one quick tumble with Scotty? It wasn’t like that and if I had to go back alone I would make sure they saw how much I loved Scotty, that he didn’t take my virtue, I gave it to him willingly, with great love. I summoned my courage at the thought of the baby and continued on my quest.

I changed my course of action and went to several homes for unwed mothers, asking for Candy. I described her in as much detail I could, providing dates and explaining my predicament. However, no one had any record of Candy staying within their confines, and or giving birth to a child there.

I continued my search, noting Sonya was still following me. I was feeling parched and hungry and the baby’s weight was tugging at my belly in a curious way. I had not been on my feet this much in several months and knew my body was taxed. I sat on a corner bench under a blossoming maple, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. I wished I had brought a bonnet not for propriety sake but to shield my eyes from the day’s bright sun. I closed my eyes and imagined it was 1860, so long ago. The hustle and bustle sounded the same, people came and went into and out of shops, vendors sold papers and shaved ice with flavorings, boys offered shoe shines on every corner, and the clip clop of horse hooves echoed between the buildings. The smell was no better now than it was in my past, in fact the sewage problem seemed to be more pronounced, sludge was everywhere, and I had to lift my dress so as not to ruin my hem line. My shoes were covered in slop. I would be sure to clean them properly in my hotel room, where I promised to be grateful for a proper bed and warm water to bathe in.

I beckoned Sonya out from behind the maple and asked her to sit with me and keep me company. Together we watched a black and white finch, no bigger than the palm of my hand, flitter about building a nest in the treetops. Sonya was missing several of her teeth and I guessed she was perhaps seven years old; she spoke very little, though she seemed to understand what I said to her. I decided she would become my companion for the time being, she lived here now among the corruption and knew more about the city’s underworld. I hated to admit it but I was thinking of the fight circuit. If Scotty was unable to find work, or his family, my gut feeling told me he would either look to enter a fight or at the very least observe them and perhaps lay a wager or two.

It was growing late so I took Sonya for a lemonade and burger, which she smothered in ketchup and sweet pickle relish. I knew the hotel would not allow her entrance in her current state so we found a running fountain and I used my under garments as a wash cloth and cleansed her face and arms from weeks of smudges and grime. I had money to spare so we found a store front offering used clothes for children, the outfits and signs in the windows beckoning shoppers to come in for the best prices in town. I held Sonya by the hand and together we discovered her true size, a five. I told her we would pick out one practical outfit so she would have something that wouldn’t wear out so quickly, but when she pointed to pink gingham checked dressed with starched white collar I could not withhold it from her. I allowed her to try it on and purchased it for her immediately; we threw away her old rags and went to find shoes to match the dress.

It was getting late so we walked back to the hotel and I invited Sonya to stay with me for the night. She and I slept comfortably on the generous bed, I don’t think she had ever been in a bed of this size before, if at all, and the down comforter seemed to swallow her up. The child stole my heart; I covered her and watched her sleep. I felt my own baby moving inside me and wondered in amazement at my circumstance. I didn’t want to give Sonya any false hope by doting on her, but now I couldn’t bear the thought of her alone on the streets once I went back home to my comfortable bed and family.

In the morning I woke to Sonya’s humming and her little fingers drawing on my back. She played with my auburn hair and smiled incredulously at me when I turned towards her. We indulged in room service and then took turns bathing; I spent the better part of an hour on Sonya’s hair as it was tangled and unkempt from lack of brushing. We chose to give her a middle part and do two French braids that attached in the back and formed a bun at the nape of her neck, it was going to be another hot day and this would help keep her cool. She looked precious and what’s more, she felt giddy. She was so undernourished it was hard for her to eat more than a pancake and glass of juice, but I hoped to provide her, while I was here with as many good meals as I was able.

The only thing unnerving to me was how trusting this child was. I would do her no harm, but what if someone else did? I was clucking and fussing over her like a mother hen.

Together we walked the swollen streets from uptown Manhattan to the more gruesome and fearful Five Points, crossing from Bayard to Leonard before seeing Paradise Place in our sights once again. She held my hand as we went, leading me towards an arena of sorts. There was to be a fight here in a few days’ time and we studied the posters to see who was pitted against whom. A giant by the name of Vladimir had posters everywhere, encouraging people to bet on him. There were others too, Patrick Kelly, Bill O’Malley, Brian O’Donnelly, all these lads with Irish names surely having immigrated here recently and found America to be lacking in work, the promised land not so promising after all.

We searched the benches of the arena, only finding scraps of garbage and old ticket stubs. When Sonya picked up food from the ground and put it to her mouth I told her no and she dropped it immediately. We bought a warm pretzel with mustard to share and sat enjoying the salty morsels together. There was no sign of Pauli, Scotty, or Candy anywhere. Exhaustion was settling into my bones, so we sat for a rest in a rusty set of chairs biding our time.

On my fourth day in New York I decided to change pace. Instead of looking for Scotty, I would embark on finding Sister Agnes. She was a beacon for me and the thought of seeing her brought tears to my eyes.

Sure enough, Sister was still placing orphans from the roughest parts of the city on orphan trains and sending them west. She had great success in placing the children because she was diligent about placing ads in all the stops along her route west. She looked the same, slightly more plump in her cheeks and chin, but otherwise she had the same wooden cross and wiry glasses.

“Sister Agnes?” I called to her from behind.

She turned and immediately remembered me, although I was one of thousands of children she took care of over the years.

“Mary! It is wonderful to see you!” She clasped her hands in prayer position and reached towards me, embracing me in her arms as she did years ago, exuding warmth and security.

“Who do we have here?” She nodded to Sonya who had snuck in behind me and was clutching my dress.

“Why this is my friend Sonya, she has become my shadow this week, I am afraid she is orphaned and I was hoping I could bring her to you when my journey here is finished.”

The ladies held hands and sat in a pew facing each other as they spoke.

“Of course, do you know anything at all about her?” Agnes took in the sight of the girl before her.

“She barely speaks, but I found her alone, scraggly and threadbare, she is a waif is she not?” The women examined Sonya and Sister said, “Guten tag, Sonya.” The girl beamed and began talking a blue streak in a language I was unfamiliar with.

“Oh my goodness, Sister, how did you know?”

“Well Sonya is a common name for those of German descent; we have thousands and thousands of German immigrants in the streets.”

Sister Agnes continued speaking with Sonya in German and I did my best to use context clues and follow along.

It was all so exciting to break through to this child and have a means of communication, however her story was pitiful. She was on a boat with her family, crossing the great water when people began falling ill. Sadly her entire family died and were disposed of by being tossed overboard into the sea. Sonya was all alone.

“I will see to it she goes to a good German home, Mary. Now do tell me, what brings you back to New York?”

I told Sister Agnes of my pregnancy and she vaguely remembered Scotty, who was given the name Matthew when put on the train. I told her of our love and how he came back to the city for work, I didn’t go into detail beyond that. He didn’t know about the baby and I needed to find him and tell him. Sister did not judge me; she only listened and held my hand while I spoke. After I told her my tale, she asked after Edmund. I felt guilt leak from my pores because I had not spent much quality time with him lately, he was a tad more reclusive, always leafing through law books and studying trials. He worked numerous odd jobs unlike other boys his age who played ball to fill their time.

The clock struck high noon and Sister Agnes had many children to attend and prepare for their journeys. I wished I had been more diligent in my correspondence with her across the years, but time got the best of me.

Sister Agnes had a light that shined brightly on all those she came across, and to this day I am blessed to have known her.

Chapter 19 Scotty

For a fleeting instant I would have sworn I saw Mary on Cross Street catty corner to Paradise Square where I was lunching at the Oyster Shack. After all these years, the restaurant still served up the best sea food in the Five Points. You could get a juicy crab roll for a mere seven cents; it was a bargain given the sandwich’s large size, and lumpy tender meat. Some people questioned the ingredients authenticity, but I gulped it down grateful for a full stomach. I did a double take when I saw a woman resembling Mary cross the street holding the hand of a little girl, her daughter I presumed. I was seeing her silhouette everywhere I went, she filled my dreams at night and now I was imagining her here in New York City.

Our last moments were full of tenderness and sorrow. I was haunted by her frail appearance, hollowed eyes, greasy hair, yet I loved her all the more in this state. She gave me the courage I needed to get back in the ring.

I had to win my fight tomorrow, the prize was one hundred dollars split two ways, seventy to thirty in my favor for the win. If I was able I would consider picking up other matches, ideally saving enough money for a solid down payment on a farm, preferably the Wrights’. I wanted to buy Mary an engagement ring, and have money to spare for proper home furnishings and necessities.

The Wrights wanted two thousand for their farm and all its inhabitants. There were currently fifty head of cattle, eleven horses, countless chickens, three or four billy goats, several feral barn cats that didn’t concern me and two retrievers that I assumed would go where the Wrights went. The red barns housing the animals were satisfactory for the time being, there were only minimal leaks in the roofs, the haylofts operated smoothly, and the fencing was ongoing. Boards rotted and were replaced; white washing would always be a necessary evil. I learned over the years that was just part of farm life.

The barn which housed the tools, carriages, and any spare parts on the other hand needed to be torn down and restructured; as it stood now it was only one good wind storm away from collapsing. I figured that would cost a good two hundred or more to build with the cost of materials and hired help.

Two thousand plus the additional money for the barn, plus the cost of furniture and feed for the animals, it was a scary and serious undertaking. But I wanted it more than anything else in this world. I needed it actually, something belonging to me, tangible, that I worked for and would reap the rewards from. Nothing compared to the feeling of birthing a calf, or breaking a foal. Perhaps we would add sows to the mix for slaughter purposes, it could be a reliable source for income. If I could only get enough money to purchase a few to start, they would breed quickly. The dollar signs were adding up, causing indigestion. I had to focus in on tomorrow’s fight. If I won this bout I would advance.

I panicked at the thought of Mary in Binghamton; it had been several months since I last saw her, how had she changed? Was she taking better care of herself? Her appearance broke my heart when I snuck into her room and bed; she looked how I felt, miserable. Some people just hide it better I suppose, Mary was always one to wear her heart on her sleeve, one of the reasons I loved her so intensely. She always told me what she thought and wasn’t afraid to state her opinion on any topic. She was bright too, and funny. Golly, if she knew I was fighting I would hear about it; thank God she didn’t make me swear to her that I would stay away from the ring.

My workout requirements for today included the psychological aspects of training. I was in shape that was certain, now I had to focus on getting into my opponent’s head. I asked around to find out who I was fighting, and after lots of investigation I found out I was put against a black kid from the sixth ward. I had seen him fight weeks ago; he was good, very good in fact. He was shorter and stockier than I was, but very muscular and strong, the kid could take a punch. I would have to keep him away with jabs.

“I will win this, I will win this, I will win this.” I repeated my mantra, convinced of my victory, feeling the money in my hands already. I was confidant I had what it would take to win, but not cocky, there was a difference. I had great respect for my opponent; clearly he was training as hard if not harder than I was. I could bet he wouldn’t get a seventy to thirty cut of his winnings either due to his color. The blackies always got ripped off.

I had to get out of my head for a bit, so I decided to walk the streets, take a look see around the Five Points. Eli was never far from my mind, I had six other siblings as well but couldn’t even remember their names.

Bets were already being placed, the fight ring buzzed with excitement. Vladimir was back to decimate some poor soul. Anyone willing to go in the ring with him got one hundred and fifty dollars, no split. It was tempting but not worth my life. The man was enormous, thighs like watermelons, somewhere around three hundred pounds of muscle and flub. He was an imposing character and I would stay far from him.

Chapter 20 Pauli

“It’s been almost ten years.”

“I know, Love, a lot has happened over the years, why just look at us! Shop owners with property we call our own, you with your thinning salty hair and me all fat and happy,” Candy looked around our bright and cheerful home bursting with live plants, amused by all she had accomplished and gained over years. She twirled in her pajamas still looking beautiful to me despite the weight she gained around her middle and bum. She collected plants the way some women collect jewelry. We had spider plants that trailed from the ceiling to the floor, strawberry plants that produced fruit, we had jades of all kinds, cacti and asparagus ferns with feathery fronds, but Candy’s favorite was the purple orchid and she tended it like a baby.

We both thought back to time spent holed up in the old Brewery in Paradise Park, home to the Roach Guards who profited from the brothel they owned upstairs and the gambling hall below. Candy herself was a prostitute until I laid eyes on her and forbade her to continue. We have been together ever since. Girls came and went in the Brewery and many became my pet for a time, but none stole my heart at first glance like Candy did. We made love the first night, it was not just an act, as she performed many times before; this was real. We fell madly in love with each other and became inseparable. She took the position of nursemaid among the Roach Guards, and was very skilled at it, as she proved when the small boy full of spit and vinegar came into our lives shortly after.

“I remember it like yesterday, when Lenny pulled a scrappy little thing into my office, the kid was filthy dirty and terrified for his life, but he stood before me with the courage of a lion, head up, shoulders back, looking me in the eye. What a piece of work. If there is one thing I am certain of, it’s that vengeance keeps a man alive, and Scotty had plenty of that. Somewhere he is out there.”

“Amen to that, I for one hope he has moved on, but I remember how angry he was. He wore a grimace all the time, and why wouldn’t he after he was beaten and left to die.”

“You nursed him back to health, my love, and I thank God for that every day.” Candy stepped lightly towards me and sat in my lap knowing how hard it was for me to admit that Scotty was lost to us. We looked for him day and night for three weeks straight, but then we had the baby to think of. Candy was feeling ill; she was in her first trimester and began spotting. I had to get her to a place of safety, a place she could rest both her body and mind. We left the city limits and went to New Jersey using all our savings. We summoned a doctor at the hotel where we were staying but before he made it, Candy began bleeding profusely; it was a miscarriage, no doubt caused by the stress of our squalid living conditions.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” Candy assured me, giving me strength when it was her body that betrayed her.

“It’s my fault, I should have insisted we leave sooner, Five Points is no place for a woman having a child, not to mention to raise a family.”

“What’s done is done, baby, we will try again.”

That was the worst month in their memories, for they not only lost their baby but they lost Scotty, whom they felt a kinship with automatically. He had a fighting spirit and clung to them in a way that made them feel needed.

“I am sorry I have not been able to give you more children, my love,” Candy kissed my brow.

“Darling, it’s I who am sorry. I know how desperately you wanted a family. If only I found you sooner.” My voice trailed off as I remembered the youth who approached me twelve years earlier, asking if I needed any favors. She was a star-gazer, silky blond hair and a low cut blue gown showing off her ample bosom, it was enticing, but I took one look in this harlot’s eyes and felt a connection that warranted more than just a favor.

“You saved me, Pauli, thank God I found you when I did, and thank god you weren’t like all the other men.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as they always did when she recounted her days as a harlot, servicing men in any manner they chose. Dancing a strip tease for them or blowing them before and after the bedding took place. It was purely humiliating.

“I fell in love with you immediately, and I wouldn’t change a thing between us, kids or no kids, I love you more today than ever before.” I put my dishes in our sink and hugged her, holding tighter than usual, “Well, I better go open the store, we have a new shipment today, do you think you’ll be out soon?”

“Yes, let me just tend to my hair and I will be there shortly.”

I knew she was not only setting her hair in curlers but gathering herself; whenever we spoke of the children lost to us Candy became emotional. Luckily we had the store to focus our attentions on. Neither of us liked New Jersey and both were hopeful that someday we would find Scotty again in New York so we moved back, taking a few boxes of top hats, gloves, and vests that we stole along the way. It was our last crime, and enabled us to establish the Mr. and Mrs. Shoppe just below Manhattan. We positioned ourselves midway between the uptown wealth and downtown poverty so we could have customers from all walks come to us for their needs. There were ups and downs initially, but now business thrived; we carried everything from pre-fabricated to custom-made men’s wear, hats, caps, shirts, coats, frocks, cravats, belts, socks and shoes, to women’s wear which was Candy’s department of course. She proved to have an eye for design and often took to embellishing her own aprons, dresses, bonnets and gloves for the display case, which sold out immediately. Town folk loved the detail she put into the bonnets and gloves, but the parasols stole the business. We considered our lives blessed, for we had a flourishing business and place to sleep at night.

The bell we dangled from the door rang indicating our first customer of the day; she was a lady who kept a studious eye on the child outside the shops door. The child seemed to have become enthralled with a dog of some sort and sat scratching it behind the ears. The woman was in search for a parasol to shield her from the day’s sun, she was pale and obviously with child.

When she met my eyes, she swooned and fainted.

“Candy, you must get out here at once!” I yelled.

Often times women came in to the shop and created a diversion, upon which a second party would sneak about the store, unnoticed, stealing from us.

Sure enough the child entered the store, however rather than scan the store shelves for pocket worthy items she ran towards the woman on the ground, the woman was convulsing now and I was still yelling for Candy.

Candy came out with her tea, rushed towards the spectacle on the ground and splashed water on the patrons’ face, while the child nudged her shoulders, begging her to open her eyes and come to.

Finally the woman opened her eyes, she was confused, but in her state she grasped the child’s hand and looked into my eyes,

“Pauli?” she asked.

I had never seen this woman before and was baffled she knew my name.

“Why yes, that is my name, who are you?” We sat the woman up slowly making sure she was not still dizzy and Candy went for a cool glass of water for she was not only carrying a child but was dehydrated. Her ankles were swollen as well and we needed to find out how she knew us.

“I knew it was you,” she said. He described you to a T, a gap between the front teeth, tattoo, and scar above your lip, that’s how I knew.”

“Who described me, who told you about me?”

“Scotty.”

Candy and I clutched the girl’s arms and lifted her to our back room couch, laying her down and propping her feet up she told us her story, how she was in search of Scotty who was in search of us. We were ecstatic with the news he was alive and could be in the city this very moment.

“We must find him, close the store; we will start searching at once.” I began pacing, threatening to wear a hole in the floorboards, making everyone nervous.

“Darling, wait, she is in no position to be up and about.” I could read Candy’s mind; she feared the risk of losing another baby and glanced anxiously towards Mary’s swollen ankles.

“You ladies stay here and rest. Candy, can you mind the store if the little one helps you?” We finally took notice of the young girl in tow and Mary explained she was her shadow since she arrived in the city a week ago. She attached herself to Candy right away and became her helper for the day. But first she motioned towards the door, where a small pup was wagging its tail and looking at them. Candy filled a bowl of water and put it outside the shop for the pup, tying her to the bench in the shade.

“Tell me everything Scotty said before he left, where was he going to look for us?”

Mary said Scotty was nearing six feet tall, his hair was curly and black and he let it flow out behind its cap, he had filled out tremendously from the farm work he had done, was strong and competent. He was going to search the Five Points, the Brewery, the docks; he wanted to pick up work and had hopes of finding us as well. He left Binghamton for numerous reasons, but didn’t know she was with child. He was coming to New York to find us, but also for respite.

“Well,” I cracked my knuckles deprecatingly, not happy with the situation in Binghamton that Mary described, but certain we could find a way through all the nonsense. Why, Scotty and Mary could live with us, we had a spare room we used for Candy’s sewing, but it would be easy enough to clean out. I was already picturing a cradle and bed; the thought amused and delighted me. “I’d better be going then.” I went to Mary and patted her arm, “I’ll be back with your lad, have no worries about that.”

I had not wandered through the Five Points in some time, preferring the fresher air in midtown Manhattan to the polluted stink of the slums. I also feared running into anyone from the Roach Guards, I wouldn’t be forgiven easily and wanted no part of that life anymore.

I heard tell of a grand fire taking nearly half the shops several years ago, apparently the looting was fierce and shop keeps lost everything. Still, there were structures in place with signs depicting bakeries, grocery stores, clothing, and more.

I walked up and down Anthony Street before making my way to Cross, and then over to Orange Street. There was no sight of a man fitting Scotty’s description. I hated to admit it to myself but I feared if a man came to New York in search of work and was unable to find it, he might be lured into the underworld of fighting. Fighting was in Scotty’s blood, I had put it there when I allowed him to train and get revenge on the gang who nearly took his life when they caught him spying for me. I encouraged him and watched him grow from a scrawny youth to a kid with confidence in the ring. There was decent money in the ring, especially for an unknown who would have a better split if he found the right promoter.

Fights always took place at dusk; they were even more prevalent now as the rate that immigrants came to New York City was still growing alarmingly. Men fresh from the boat jumped into the ring for quick money.

I asked around about the upcoming fights and heard tell of Vladimir the Victor, any man even willing to step in the ring with him was given a large sum with no split. He earned it, too, and mostly likely used it for medical bills if what the townsfolk said was accurate. Vladimir was lethal, a hulk of a man with no empathy, he pummeled his opponents and had to be pulled off by three or four men before his opponent died.

I found the location of the fights and grabbed a beer from the tavern before heading to the rings. I would need a stout or two to loosen up and face the lifestyle once more.

A changing landscape of figures milled about a large arena with three levels of decks. The top level had ladies entertaining men, as many as six per hour. It was a lucrative business for the women on fight nights. Bookies took bets, talked up one opponent over another and soon enough the first men appeared in the ring. It was a lightweight fight; the men were immigrants, speaking no English and looking weary before the bell rang. The red corner came out strong, the fighter was scrappy and stronger than he looked, he had the blue corner against the ropes most of the first and second round, then knocked him out cold in the third. The next fight started immediately, I sat watching both the fights and the people milling about. Asking everyone if they heard of a fighter named Scotty. No one knew Scotty but I was determined to find him. I slipped upstairs in case the ladies knew him, I paid a jezebel for any information she had, and she whispered what she could do to me for just a few more coins. “No thanks,” I replied and noted her stunned reaction; surely she was not often turned down with such sales tactics.

The bookies were busy, but I approached under the guise of placing a large bet on a fighter named Scotty.

“How much you gonna wager?” The bookie in the tan cap asked before spitting a wad of chew to his left.

“Well, I’ll wager my entire wallet on Scotty.”

“Okay, then Scotty it is, he is the ninth fight. Got a tough match up that one, you sure now?”

Holy shit, Scotty, or at the very least a fighter named Scotty was here somewhere. Fighters warmed up all over the arena, some doing so to psych up their opponents, others to calm their nervous energy. But if I remembered correctly Scotty liked quiet before his fights so he could focus. I ducked into every corner, looking for any place offering privacy, to no avail. The eighth fight was ending and in just few minutes Scotty would be in the ring.

The applause settled down and the man in the blue corner wearing yellow knickers took center ring, next the man in red was called forward. Scott was in the zone. He still looked like the kid I pulled off the streets nearly ten years ago, but he’d lost his youth. Before me now was a stone faced man.

The bell signaling round one dinged, Scotty danced around the ring, assessing the skills of the man before him who looked far more experienced. He was rusty but looked well fed and in shape. Hopefully he had endurance as well as youth on his side. The man in knickers closed in on Scotty, nailing him with a series of body shots, Scotty gripped his gut and left his face open, he was punched in the jaw, spit went flying, but he was standing strong. He came at his opponent strong and fierce, landing long straight punches, protecting his kidneys. After two minutes the bell rang and I ran to his corner, “Clean and fast, Scotty, it’s the only way to beat this guy.”

“What the hell?” Scotty was breathing heavily and shocked at the sight of me.

“I’ll explain it all later, now you have to get in there and be quick about it, behind the ears alright? Knock him there and it’ll mess his equilibrium, then you’ll have your chance on the body. You can do it. I massaged his shoulders and gave him a sip of water that he spit on the floor beside the ring before standing up and bouncing on the balls of his feet, renewed. The Gutter Boys in his corner stepped aside and let me coach him.

“Let’s go, Scotty, do this.” I cheered him on.

The man in yellow was called Roger, and he came out with renewed gusto as well, he was on Scotty before he could react, pinning him against the ropes, but Scotty shimmied out from behind and hit him with a series of jabs, then an uppercut that had him staggering backwards, no time to think, he followed with a body shot, knocking Roger off balance. Roger stumbled to the outside of the ring, Scotty pinned him and pummeled him with jabs to the head alternating with body shots, Roger didn’t know where to protect his body, Scott was too fast for him, just as Roger put his gloves up to protect his head, Scotty would lead left and go right on his body. It was a tough round for Roger. The bell rang and Scotty sat in his corner, breathing heavy and bleeding profusely from the punch to his cheek in the first round. I taped it, gave him more water and encouraged him to keep at his body. Roger was tiring out quickly.

The third and fourth rounds were fairly even, Scotty gave as much as he got and both men were exhausted from the battle. Men in the arena were taking notice of Scotty and bets were rapidly placed, the crowd cheered him on giving him renewed vigor. He finished Roger in the fifth round, one strong right hook and the man went down for an eight count; in fact he was still down when we took the winnings and left the arena.

I put my arms tight around Scotty, then pulled back and got a good look at him. He was scraped up pretty bad, bleeding from his eyebrow, cheek and mouth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up huh?”

“How did you find me?” Scotty mumbled threw swollen lips, adrenaline pulsing through his veins dulling any pain.

“It’s quite a story, first let’s tend to you, then I’ll tell you everything.” They walked towards the doctor’s station and had Scotty looked at and tended too. He had four stitches placed above his eyebrow; the gouge in his right cheek had congealed so stitches weren’t necessary. I gave him ice for his lips and the doctor wrapped his ribs that were not broken but sore. Ointment was applied to his fists that were ripped open and bleeding at the knuckles, and he gulped down the fresh water given to him and looked better already.

Bookies were approaching all at once, asking him if he’d be back, and reminding him of Vlad’s offer of one hundred and fifty just to get in the ring. There were numerous fights he could get in on but right now all he cared about was the man at his side, taking care of him once more.

“I’m proud of you, son. That was a great fight, you look good out there….you been training some, huh?” It was as if no time had elapsed between the two men who settled right into comfortable conversation.

“I’m not sure if you’d call it training, but yes, I have kept myself fit.” Scotty clearly didn’t want to talk about himself right now; he had too many questions for Pauli. “Is Candy here?” He scanned the crowd for her blonde hair, but it was mostly men on the bottom level watching the fights.

“No, she is at home, waiting for you.”

“Did you know I was here? I’ve been looking for you for months, is my brother or sister there too?” He was full of excitement, looking like a child himself.

I shook my head and looked towards the ground, remembering the way Candy carried the child high in her belly before the miscarriage. “We lost the child, and there have not been others. Boy, I have never been so happy in all my life, seeing you today, out there in the ring, you did well.”

We stood up and I directed Scotty down Anthony Street in the direction of home, he counted his winnings as we walked, me telling him about our Mr. and Mrs. Shoppe, before his head cleared and he stopped cold in his tracks.

“Wait, how did you know I was in New York?” It made no sense.

“Well it seems someone else was looking for you, and that someone stumbled into my shop this morning, took one look at me and fainted.”

“What?” Scotty was purely confused.

“Mary, she recognized me from your description, she was dehydrated and a bit tired from all her walking in her condition.”

“What condition? What the hell is she doing here?” Scotty breathed through his teeth, seething at the thought of her alone in the city.

“Is she alone? Tell me straight Pauli, what is going on?”

“Well she is and she isn’t alone, she seems to have a shadow, a little girl around seven years old, and she has been here over a week looking for you.”

Scotty quickened the pace practically jogging, eager to get to Mary.

“She has been here that long, alone, oh my God, how far uptown are you; I’m hailing a carriage.”

Scotty looked around for a trolley or carriage, sure enough a trolley heading uptown stopped at the corner before us and we ran to catch it.

“You said something else, what is the condition she is in, is she hurt, did someone hurt her?”

He had a faraway look in his eyes, “I’ll kill anyone who hurts her.”

“No she is not hurt, Candy is tending to her, and she is resting. I’ll let her tell you the rest, lad; we’ll be home in a few minutes.” Home, the word conjured images of chaos, boisterous little ones, and the word grandpa suddenly etched itself in my mind.

“You look amused.” Scotty said.

“I am, it’s been quite a day.”

Chapter 21 The Proposal

The Mr. and Mrs. Shoppe had a bright and airy atmosphere, Pauli led me through the front door and I caught the eye of a child behind the counter at the register. Pauli nodded to her and asked if everything was going okay, then held a curtain aside for me and ushered me through a narrow hallway and up a flight of stairs.

The space was colorful and cozy, but nothing filled my heart with joy as the sight of Candy did.

She was in the den, and hopped up immediately when I entered the room.

“Scotty!” She whispered holding my face, “Look at you!”

I picked her up and spun her around, she hadn’t changed a day.

“Candy, it’s wonderful to see you! Where is Mary, is she okay? I must see her at once.”

“She is resting comfortably, but I know you would be a welcome sight.”

I opened the door to the bedroom and found Mary sleeping on her back, looking as beautiful as always, an avalanche of blankets kicked to her feet; she had a protruding belly, could it be?

She must have felt my stare for she woke with a start, speechless at the sight of me all banged up before her.

“Scotty!” She whispered my name before the tears spilled out.

I kneeled at her bedside, kissing her, and placing my hand on her belly. She was a welcome sight to say the least, and she had moxie coming here on her own.

“Is this what you came to tell me about then, Red?” I kept my hand on her belly in awe.

“It is, are you mad?” she asked, peering directly into my eyes.

“I am only mad you came on your own, it’s even more dangerous now than it was a decade ago, but mad about the baby, never. I am delighted.” I hugged her close and crawled into bed with her, nervous and excited at the same time at the prospect of being a father.

“Are you alright? Pauli said you fainted, do you need anything, water, food, what?” I was rambling.

“I was a bit dehydrated and tired from so much walking I suppose. But nothing could keep me from you.”

The tears kept spilling from her eyelids in torrents, she grasped at me fearful I would disappear again.

“It’s ok, I am here now, we’re going to be fine.” I pulled out my winnings to show her and that did get a grin.

“It’s Edna and Pap, I left them a note before getting on a train, and I have no idea if they have disowned me or not, I am just so sad if they feel disappointed in me for getting pregnant.”

“God knows they will hate me even more now. First things first, let me hug you for a while, I have missed you.”

She fussed over my stitches, traced the wounds on my cheek and knuckles, but all the caressing and hugging led to kissing and exploring, before I put my hand on her woman parts, I wondered at the safety for the baby.

“Perhaps this isn’t the time.” I said.

“I don’t know if it’s safe, but I will ask Candy, I have missed you too.” They kissed more and took pleasure in one another’s embrace.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that, Mary?” He teased before pulling her to her feet and assessing her from head to toe.

“I just can’t believe I’m going to be a father!” Together they laughed and soon after dressed fully so they could properly reunite with Pauli and Candy.

The sight in the den was bewitching, Candy had the child Sonya on her lap, reading her a story, and Pauli sat next to them smoking his pipe.

This is what a family looked like.

“Congratulations, son.” Pauli clapped me on the back and shook my hand. I noticed the tattoo beneath the rolls of his shirt sleeves, but didn’t comment on it, it was part of his past now.

I looked at the people before me and held tight to Mary’s hand, I dropped to one knee, and proposed to her at once.

“Mary, I will love you forever, please marry me, be my wife, Mary, please?” I looked directly into her eyes as I spoke, ruffling my hair with my knuckles, nerves getting the better of me in this precise moment.

“Yes! Of course I will be your wife! I love you too!” She stood to hug me and I felt her protruding baby bump press itself against my stomach.

Champagne for all was poured, Sonya took a glass of apple juice instead, somehow in a short time she had become part of our family as well.

“We would like for you to stay here with us.” Pauli announced.

“Yes, we can clean out my sewing room and set you up nicely in there, it would be wonderful!” Candy said as she clapped her hands together and stood to congratulate us.

“That is a rather generous offer, but first I need to speak with Edna about our news. I am afraid I left rather suddenly.” It was evident that Mary was worried sick about Edna, her eyes pleaded with mine for an answer.

“Let’s make sure you are well first, and then perhaps we can travel together, would that be easier dear?” Candy suggested we all travel to Binghamton, that way they could help give Mary courage in discussing her news and also meet her family. The atmosphere was sure to be strained and they would help.

“You mean you would come with me? Golly, that is kind and generous, but I think I need to face my folks alone, maybe Scotty, you could come though?”

“Of course, I will be right by your side.” I had so much to consider, so much to do and plan. I felt overwhelmed.

The clock on the mantle told the family it was dinnertime, so they sat to the table and supped together on roasted chicken and potatoes. Candy had even made homemade rolls, and brownies for dessert.

I watched Mary pick at her food and grew nervous at the thought of losing the baby. It didn’t seem she was eating enough and her ankles and calves were swollen.

Later that evening, after Sonya had fallen asleep on the couch and Candy and Pauli were in the Shoppe organizing and straightening the wares for tomorrow, I approached them with my concerns.

“Candy, is she okay? She is hardly eating and her ankles, did you see them?” Fear crept out of my mouth exposing my deepest concerns.

“Sit, Scotty,” she faced me.

“She needs rest, she hasn’t been to a doctor yet and I intend to see that she goes tomorrow. She is young and healthy otherwise so I feel certain she is okay. Edema can be more of a nuisance than anything in a pregnancy; she just may have to be off her feet more than some. We can help with that.”

I felt a little better, “but why isn’t she eating, shouldn’t she be eating even more now?”

“She is in the second trimester and her nausea is subsiding, things taste different during pregnancy, what she once loved she may cringe at now. Some pregnant women get by on milk and cookies alone, whatever she can stomach is fine. We just need to find what that is and make it available to her.”

“Well she did like your brownies.” We laughed.

“Can I ask you a personal question, it’s rather embarrassing?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Scotty, what is it?”

“Well, I don’t want to hurt the baby if we….you know.” I couldn’t get out the words but Candy knew what I meant.

“No it won’t hurt the baby, and it might even be good for Mary. I will speak to her about it too if you like.”

“It’s just so good to be here with you, to have found you after all these years.”

“You too, Scotty, we have missed you.”

“I just don’t know how I’ll face Edna, they hate me.”

“Who could ever hate you?” Candy stroked my hair and Pauli pulled up a chair.

“Pap for one, and possibly Edna, for that matter the whole town if they think I caused harm to the Wright animals. Pap says if I loved Mary I would stay away, let her go, I will be unable to provide for her the way she is accustomed to living, and on that note he is right. She has grown up in a home full of furnishings and art, she has become far more cultured than I ever will and she is well educated. Do you know she wants to become a teacher? How can she be happy living as a farmer’s wife? I just don’t know what to do.” I explained to Pauli and Candy the situation with the Wright farm, the down payment necessary to buy in and become a farmer. Then I reiterated Pap’s concerns.

“But she loves you, Scotty, she doesn’t love a banker or lawyer, she loves you as much for your history together as for the man you are today. Money doesn’t make a person happy, she would be miserable without you and now you have the child to think about.”

“I realize that, that’s why I have to do something to make money and quickly. I can fight Vladimir. It pays just to get in the ring with him.”

Pauli stood up. “Absolutely not, I won’t allow it. The man is a hulk and one punch to the head could leave you brain damaged and your child fatherless. That is out of the question.”

On that note, Candy stood to take her leave. She wanted to check on Sonya before getting to bed herself.

Pauli and I were left alone to talk.

“There is another way.”

“What’s that, Scotty?”

“I hear a lot of talk about the gold rush in San Francisco. I could take my winnings and buy gear and a passage out west. It may be my big break; I could become a rich man and never be in anyone’s debt. Pap would have nothing to say then maybe that would be easier for Mary, she wouldn’t have to feel so torn then.”

“Son, the gold rush is over, yes men are still heading west in hopes of finding a new stream to pan but practically speaking, it’s unreasonable.”

“Maybe so, but I could get lucky, what do I have to lose? If I leave now, before the baby came and gave myself a year at most, I could be back to raise the child with Mary, hopefully a rich man. If not I would be no worse off than I am now. “

“It’s a stretch, but you know nothing of gold mining, it’s not like you just stick your hand in a river and pull up nuggets of gold. Nothing in life is that easy. And you have a lot to lose, Mary and your child for starters, or your life, thousands of men have died trying to strike it rich.”

“A few fellas at the tavern are going, they are taking rolls to sleep on, a few pots and pans to cook with and use for sifting and the rest they plan to purchase along the way. It’ll be easier to travel light. They talked of needing shovels, picks, axes, saws, rope, maybe even wheelbarrows and knives, of course a gun would be necessary too. They are gonna pan at first and save up for a cradle or sieve.”

“Hmmm, sounds like they know a little bit about it, but, son, everyone is dropping everything and hoping for a quick fix, easy money, and, Scotty, that’s just not the way it works for most people. You know that.”

“Maybe, Pauli, just maybe now is my chance for a little luck, especially with the baby coming.”

“Are you going to talk to Mary about it? You already know what she’s going to say.”

“That’s why I am not telling her, and neither are you. Not a word to Candy either. They’d tie me to a chair to make sure I stayed put.”

“I wouldn’t blame them. I just don’t think it’s the right thing to do, not now; Mary needs you. If you leave now it gives Pap more ammunition against you, can’t you see that?”

“All I know is that man equates worthiness with money. He will never give me his blessing to marry his daughter as I am now. He will challenge me for the rest of my life and that’s not fair to Mary.”

“I suppose that’s true, but what if you stay here in New York with us, raise your family here, be a part of our business. It does very well, we have a place to live and money left over for a few niceties every now and then.”

“Pauli, while that is generous and kind, Mary and I talked about this, she wants to raise her family in the country. She has grown to love it, and so have I.”

“Sleep on it, ok? Don’t do anything rash, give me a chance to think a little and see if I can’t come up with another idea.” Pauli scratched his thinning hair, deep in thought over my situation.

I hugged my surrogate father before heading upstairs to my fiancé, who was positively glowing. She lay naked waiting for me, “What took you so long?” Mary asked, before I crawled under the covers with her one last time before taking my leave and heading west. I would leave a note, explaining myself to Mary, begging her for forgiveness at my sudden departure.

Chapter 22 Gert

The atmosphere in the house was strained. Agitation emanated from Sarah’s unsteady fingers as she dressed my wounds and ministered to me. Before entering my room she spoke in hushed tones to Edna outside my doorway, attempting to soothe her sister’s distress, this much I was able to ascertain. I worried their conversation had something to do with me; perhaps they had finally tired of caring for me. I was becoming a burden, I needed to get well and out from under foot. My mind was a hindrance; unable to cite any previous occupations or skills I had, I was born again. But I had no idea what I liked, what I enjoyed, what I would or should fill my days and time with. It was apparent I had little to no family, or I suspect they would have come to call by now, claiming me with their love and nursing me back to health in my own homestead. No, that didn’t occur and the ladies were tight lipped about my past.

I studied my reflection in the looking glass the ladies lent me as if seeing myself for the first time. I noted my upturned nose and wide almond shaped eyes. I had larger than average ear lobes with several holes for adornments, a pointy chin and set of dimples. I had all my teeth, albeit they were yellowing. Feature by feature I was not much to look at but all together I would say I had an exotic look, which made me wonder about my heritage. The only thing with any familiarity was the brevity of my name, Gert. It was crisp like the first bite into a tart apple. I recognized ‘Gert’ the same way an adult retrieves a memory from childhood, it is there, but clouded over and hard to reach. My past evaded me, and my future eluded me, it was a terrifying predicament. A tingling in my toes and shins set in, working its way up my torso, down my arms, causing a numbing in my limbs. My breath became rapid, as true fear took over my physical being. I wiped at the sweat beads on my forehead and tried to settle myself. Panic was taking over and I felt the need to run. But to where?

I must gather my things and get out of this house. The women were generous and kind but I didn’t belong here. They discussed bringing a psychotherapist from out of state to see me; perhaps he could help me through my bout of amnesia with hypnotherapy. This frightened me to no end, I objected, exclaiming I just needed more time. I needed to be up and around and surely then things would jog my memory. My wounds were healing nicely, the tender area around my privates was the most difficult to heal, but I sat long enough on ice packs that the swelling was no longer a problem and the stitches were finally able to stay in place and do their job. The salve helped as well, it was cooling and always soothing. The ladies did their best to be discreet when tending to my private areas, always keeping me covered, careful not to expose me any more than necessary. I grew used to their soft touches and caresses, as they washed my body, then patted me dry, all the while speaking encouraging words to me.

I had never seen the women rattled, and swore Edna had been crying before she entered my room to care for me this day. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had a look of concern and utter sadness.

“Edna, are you okay?” I asked my throat feeling back to normal.

“Darling, Gert, don’t you worry about me, let’s just get you better, dear.” She filled the basin with water and set about my bath.

“But you look so sad, is it me?” I prayed I was not the culprit.

“Oh heavens no!” Edna put her hand across her ample chest before continuing.

“My daughter seems to be in some trouble, I am afraid I just don’t know how to help her.”

“I wish I could help, Miss Edna, you have all shown me such kindness.” Edna’s sadness was overwhelming.

“Well perhaps you will forgive me if I am not able to tend you in the next few days, I am afraid I may be doing some traveling. My daughter, she has gone to New York City….” Edna began whimpering, but wiped her nose with a hanky and continued. “She has gotten herself with child and has gone in search of the father.” She confided in me.

“Oh dear, I see.” What a predicament, I thought her daughter was my age given the way she spoke of her.

Edna told me about Mary and Scotty and confessed that she didn’t understand why Pap was so against their love. She thought Scotty was a good boy; he just needed a little compassion given his situation.

“I completely understand Edna, it’s about time I get on my own two feet and start a life anyway I just don’t know where to begin.”

“Has Edmund been to see you yet?” Edna asked.

“No, Sarah suggested we wait a bit longer.”

“Edmund is your very good friend. I know you don’t remember anything, but perhaps he will be able to help. We have kept him away until you healed a bit more. He was one of the people that found you and it was quite distressing for him.”

“Oh, I see. I should think I would like to meet this Edmund, why yes, perhaps he can help to jog my memory!”

“Very well, after your rest today, we shall dress you properly and allow him to visit.”

I was smitten with the notion that I had a friend, someone out there who knew me from before! I simply couldn’t rest for the thought of him. I tossed and turned until I could take it no more. I glanced at my wounds; the scarring had already begun and I wondered who could love someone like me now?

A gentle knock came at my door several hours later, I was eager, and dressed in more than my undergarments so that I could accept a visitor. I wore a purple dress, with Spanish lace at the neckline and along the sleeves; the ladies said this color looked lovely with my brown eyes.

“Come in,” I bid Edmund to come in and prayed for a spark of my memory to come back.

“Hello, Gert.” Edmund took off his top hat and placed it on my bedside table before reaching out to hold my hands.

The lad before me did not look familiar at all. He was quite handsome however and looked to be about my age.

“I am terribly sorry, Edmund is it? But I am afraid I don’t remember you.” I desperately searched my mind for any flicker of a memory, but it was barren.

“I like to think I was your very best friend, however I don’t blame you in forgetting me, I do believe the amnesia is meant to serve a purpose, do you not? Perhaps it is meant to protect you; it was quite traumatic what you endured.”

“I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way, but why would I wish to forget my entire life? Can you help me put the pieces together, tell me who I was, what I did, what things I loved, my favorite color?”

“I don’t see how it would hurt; your favorite color was yellow, not a butter yellow, but a bright canary yellow. You had a beautiful straw bonnet with yellow gingham ribbon on it; I believe it was your favorite.” He told her his first in a series of lies, describing her life as an innocent youth, not wishing to shame her with recollections of all the men she serviced.

“Yellow, indeed. Please do go on, Edmund, did I have a favorite activity, any other friends perhaps?” I was greedy for any tidbits that could jog my memory.

“You adored reading, even read to me on occasion, your favorite books were Little Women and Emma, and you held the women in these novels with high regard.” The truth was she never read to Edmund and had most likely never heard of these novels. But the lying continued, he painted for her a cultured and devout life, telling her she was an educated woman who adored museums, volunteering and tending those less fortunate. He fed the flame telling her she focused on the needs of the hungry and destitute and barely had time for social functions and making friends of her own. He elaborated how this distressed her family. They admired her devotion but wanted to see her courting and married in a few years. And yes, she had many suitors, but you see we have, or had rather, a certain affinity for one another. He held her hand tighter when telling this particular lie, searching her eyes for a spark.

“You look tired; perhaps I should leave now and come back tomorrow. We have nothing but time, you must get well and strong in order to continue your work,” Edmund said with concern.

“Please do not go, Edmund, stay here with me, I have so many unanswered questions and I fear they take over my mind and make it difficult to breathe. I am so overcome.” I began weeping quietly, but Edmund held me to him, begging my forgiveness for telling me too much too soon.

“This is what my mother and aunt were afraid of, you’ve been through a trial, Gert, no one wants to recount it for you.”

Edmund held me for a moment longer, before tucking me neatly in bed to rest some more. I imagined my life as he described but felt no connection to it.

“Visit me tomorrow?” I asked.

“Certainly, I will; until then.” He kissed my hand and left me feeling mesmerized.

The following day couldn’t come soon enough, I was dressed and waiting for Edmund by mid-morning. Sarah bathed me and brushed my hair, parting it on the side and pulling it into a tight bun, loose tendrils curled at the sides. It looked rather nice, this hairstyle, I admired it and my new navy dress and felt confidant.

When Edmund came I assaulted him with a barrage of questions.

“One at a time!” He admonished me. “I will do my best, but today I wondered if you might be up for some fresh air?”

“Why yes indeed, that would be rather nice.” My ribs were feeling much better now and my legs, that threatened to develop bedsores, could use the exercise. I bent to put on my shoes and winced from the pain felt both in my ribcage and wounds. Edmund could read the pain in my eyes and bent on his knees, gathering and placing my shoes on my feet.

Sarah lent me her yellow parasol and together Edmund and I went out into the bright morning sun.

“You called me Eddie, it was your pet name for me, I suppose.” He was a good head taller than me, gently flowing hair, very handsome and gentle.

“Did you like it?” I teased.

“I did, in fact. And we walked along this pathway many times, sitting at the water’s edge, feeding the ducks our leftover ice cream cones.”

“What flavor did I get?”

“Oh you never strayed too far from chocolate with jimmies.”

We walked past the grocer’s and tavern, nothing looked familiar to me, but I caught many people glancing my way as we continued on.

A black man stopped his sweeping at the grocery store and tipped his cap to me when we passed.

“Did I know him, Edmund?”

“I don’t recall, but you were kind to everyone in your path, so it was likely you crossed him before.”

“Hmm, nothing looks familiar. It’s very distressing.”

“I can only imagine, here you are putting your faith and trust in me and you don’t even recall me.”

“Yes, that is true, but your family has shown me nothing but kindness in taking me in and caring for me. Who else could I trust if not you? But please, won’t you tell me about my own family?”

“I really think that should wait. I don’t want to set you back at all, remember you were put through quite a traumatic experience.”

“Did what happened to me also happen to them? Did I have siblings, are they hurt, did they die?”

My questions came out in waves, panic set in when I tried piecing together the puzzle of my life.

“You did not have siblings; it was actually just you and your mother. But that’s all I will say for now. Please, can we just walk and enjoy the fresh air?” He had no idea what he was going to tell her about her mother, or the fact she came to Binghamton an orphan, but one thing was certain, he would never reveal that she was a prostitute. She had the chance at a fresh start, how many people were given that opportunity? He would help her find things she enjoyed and together they would conquer the days and weeks ahead.

The sun was bright and I admired the window boxes full of flowers at each store along the village shops.

“Did I spend much time in these shops?” The stores held no memory and I suddenly wondered about my personal taste in clothing and hair trends, wondering if the shop owners would have records of my purchases.

“I wouldn’t know because we spent our time reading, walking, and helping those in need.”

“That sounds sort of boring doesn’t it? Seriously, is that all I did? What fun did I have?”

“If you permit me to give you a kiss, your imagination might give you some ideas.”

“Okay, then, that sounds like a decent idea.”

Edmund leaned in to kiss me; his lips were slightly parted, and very soft. They searched mine for a flicker of remembrance. I kissed him back, recalling the motions and flickering tongue now and then against his. We leaned against a tree and continued for a moment before he stopped.

“Why did you stop? I was rather enjoying that.”

“I want to take things slow, Gert, trust me please?”

“Kissing me was your idea.” I said feeling giddy from the kissing.

She was right, it was my idea, but I was taken aback my how much more I wanted to do and given her circumstance it was simply not going to happen.

“It feels perhaps too good for me, I fear I won’t be able to stop myself, I miss you so much.”

Instead, I grabbed Edmund’s hand and we continued our stroll through town. Several passersby took notice of us and stopped to say hello.

I may as well have been new to town, nothing and no one came back to me, and my amnesia was full blown. I feared I would never remember anything at all, but if that were the case and I were to live out my days here in Binghamton it wouldn’t be so bad. Edmund was devilishly handsome and kind; he showed me great care and took pride in his appearance. I got the feeling he was a well-respected member of society.

“Edmund, can we do some volunteering? Maybe if I jumped right back into my old ways I will remember something.”

“Absolutely we can. Let me call on the church and see what they are in need of this week. Perhaps we can stock their pantry shelves or put groceries together for families in need. I will look into it, but for now, let’s get back home, I fear you may need some rest after today’s jaunt.”

He was right, all the sights and sounds, not to mention exercise, had me tuckered out. I ate dinner at Sarah’s table, Edmund to my right and Samuel at the head of the table. It was a meal of mashed potatoes, green beans, and roasted beef with gravy. I perused Sarah’s bookshelves before finding a book I thought might look good and headed to bed for the night. It was amazing I still knew how to read.

I slept like a baby and woke refreshed and ready for a new day, a new beginning.

Edmund came for me at ten in the morning and together we went to the basement in our church which stored food for those in need, we lent a hand stocking shelves, and although everyone walked on egg shells around me, I knew it was because of my trauma and lack of memory so I didn’t think it unusual. Other volunteers asked after my health and I assured them with Edmund’s help I was feeling much better.

On our walk home, Edmund asked me if I enjoyed myself today.

The answer was yes, I did, being out and amongst people filled me with renewed joy.

“What else do you think you’d like to do?”

“Well, I have a crazy thought and I am not sure why, but I would like to create potions.”

“What in the world?”

“Well, I don’t know if they are called potions exactly, but I thoroughly enjoy the feel and smell of the lotions your mother and Edna have brought for me to use. I don’t know why, but I keep thinking about them. Does that sound ridiculous?”

“Not at all, but we could check the local stores and buy you some if you prefer?”

“No, I feel like I want to partake in the process of making them. Rose water for the bath, creams and lotions with varying scents, perhaps even night creams and lip balms.”

“It sounds like you have been giving this some thought. Are you telling me when you smell rose water you can conjure a rose? Or when you think of an orange you can conjure both the smell and color? If so that’s progress!”

“What else am I supposed to do while lying in bed for hours on end staring at butterflies?”

“Ha, so you like the butterfly shadow box?”

“I do, I favor the bright blue moth, she is lovely don’t you agree?”

“Yes she is magnificent. But let me see, sometime in between staring at butterflies and getting well you came up with the grand notion that you should make scents for women? However did that occur to you?”

“Well, your mother has been so kind to me. When she bathed me I often was so afraid and in such great pain, if not for the scent she used to distract me from my state I fear I would have fallen apart on more than one occasion.”

“That makes perfect sense actually. Let’s speak to Sarah when we get home and ask her about using her kitchen for some experiments.”

“Yes, it sounds rather fun! Maybe she’ll even have some recipes we can begin with.”

“What’s this we stuff?” Edmund asked amused before leading Gert into the house they now shared.

“Sarah?” I called out to the woman of the house.

“Yes, dear, what is it? Is everything all right?” Sarah came bustling into the kitchen, her large frame taking up most of the doorway.

“It is, I had an idea and I wondered if we might use your kitchen?”

“Of course, dinner isn’t for several hours, go ahead.”

Edmund and I had stopped at a florist shop on the walk home and I purchased a dozen red roses for my first experiment. I had a vague memory of doing this before, but pushed it aside for now, the more I tried recalling it the more upset I became. So instead I followed the florist’s directions for making rose water. I plucked the petals from the stems, rinsing them thoroughly before layering them in Sarah’s stock pot; next I covered them with distilled water and let them simmer. I stirred the pot so it didn’t boil and watched until all the color disappeared from the petals. Oil skimmed the surface of my mixture and I turned the oven off, I strained my mix and squeezed the petals for any remaining oils and moisture. After allowing it to settle for an hour I dabbed it on my hands, but the smell was too much like artichokes. I wondered out loud, “Huh, what did I do wrong?”

Sarah wandered in to her kitchen to see how I was coming and agreed the water I created did not smell like roses but had a musty vegetable scent attached to it. She suggested I try fresh roses and allowed me to pick a bunch from her garden out back. I scrubbed the pan and started my recipe again, this time the end result was more promising but still not quite what I was after.

Before I knew it, Sarah needed her kitchen space to prepare dinner and I sat befuddled by my approach, something needed changing. “Ha, I know!” I exclaimed to no one in particular. “I have to pick the roses first thing in the morning before the dew has completely evaporated, that’s when they are freshest.” Everyone was staring at me. “Wait, how did I know that?”

“Maybe you have made rose water before? With your mom, perhaps?” Sarah asked.

I searched my memory for images of a mother figure picking roses, but nothing came to mind.

“No matter, I am sure that is what I must do, is that okay with you Sarah? May I pick a small bunch tomorrow morning?”

“Certainly, no need to ask, I have hundreds of roses out there, plenty to spare!”

“Thank you Sarah.” I exclaimed and ran to hug her.

I started my recipe card index with:

Rose Water for bathing

Rose petals plucked first thing in the morning

Removal of stems and leaves

Rinse free of dirt and bugs

Fill bottom of stockpot with petals two inches deep,

Cover petals with distilled water

Simmer until petals are pale in color and glossy oil rises to the top.

Strain and squeeze petals.

Pour into glass jars and refrigerate.

It was my first recipe! My mind raced as I had allowed myself to get ahead, I didn’t have glass jars yet and needed them immediately.

“Edmund after dinner will you walk me into town, I need to go to the apothecary or florists for glass bottles.”

Edmund and Sarah exchanged a quick smile, amused I have no doubt by my sudden interest in creating scents.

My mind began racing, there was no end to what I could create. Why if I could create bath water I could create facial toners and astringents by diluting the water or adding witch hazel. I could make rose petal soap and maybe even a lotion or cream. How did this idea begin? I wondered at the very idea of rose water but my mind remained blank, it was a mystery to me.

Edmund and I found a dozen glass bottles at the apothecary’s and he gave them to us free of charge. He only asked I bring him a sample of my rose water for his wife. I did and she loved it! Sarah and Edna admired the subtlety of the scent as well and remarked how lovely it would be in a hand cream or as a perfume.

I spent the next several weeks experimenting and creating recipes in Sarah’s kitchen. By the month’s end I had made rose water as well as rose milk for the bath, the two were differentiated by their textures. I made rose hand lotion and rose dust body powder. I also made a facial astringent that toned my facial skin making it feel and look smooth.

Rose Hand Lotion:

5 oz. rose water

3.5 oz. glycerin

1 droplet of red or yellow food coloring

Add drops of rose water gradually to glycerin

Mix color slowly

Whisk together until smooth

Bottle the solution and cap tightly.

Rose Dust Powder

4 fresh roses

1 cup cornstarch

3 tbsp. baking soda

3 dried roses

Layer petals and cornstarch in cardboards box, cover loosely and leave for twenty four hours

Sift petals from cornstarch and add baking soda

Grind dried rose petals and add to mixture

Blend with wooden spoon and pour powder into jar.

For deeper scent add another batch of fresh roses.

I experimented with rubbing alcohol and witch hazel to fine-tune a facial toner and found one part alcohol or witch hazel to ten parts rose water worked best. I now had a dining table full of concoctions and had received high praise from the ladies. I had yet to contrive a perfect recipe for lip balm or rouge but if Sarah would allow it I would continue with my experimentation.

I always left her kitchen spotless and smelling fresh, I worked from early morning until midday before turning the kitchen back to its rightful owner. I had no idea what lay in store for me with these products but I loved making them.

Edna and Sarah got a kick out of it as well, suggesting I make a chocolate souffle hand cream, or a vanilla lip balm, we talked endlessly about the possible combinations and began talking about healing balms as well. Eucalyptus for children with croup, or lavender tinctures for those needing calming and soothing would sell well. “How about a peppermint cream for my hands?” Edna asked, she had arthritis and was always seeking stimulating products to smooth across her knuckles.

Imagine my delight when customers came to Sarah’s house and rang the bell asking about the products I was making, they wanted to know if they could purchase them. It was all so exciting. The ladies and I sat together, pouring over ideas for packaging and a name for the product line.Edmund had been doodling for hours at the kitchen table, watching us make a fuss and giggle like children. Before long he dropped a sketching before me, Heaven Scents by Gert

His sketch had a scalloped edge, and the lettering was airy, it was perfect.

“Heaven Scents! I love it, Edmund.” I pulled him in for a hug and the ladies snickered beside us watching our love bloom before them.

Chapter 23 Edmund

“Sarah, she has so many products and everyone loves them!” I exclaimed. I admit I worried about her subconscious recalling the rose water, her favorite scent from her days as a prostitute.

“It’s wonderful indeed.” Sarah stated as she slathered her forearms with a new ginger scented lotion Gert created.

I had never seen this creative, fun loving side of Gert. The doctors said she would keep her intelligence and personality, but she never had reason to be excited and creative until now. Before her trauma, Gert was rebellious and resolute. She was always thinking of her survival, staying one step ahead of the game, money being her main cause of angst. I recounted how she would greet me in her room smoking provocatively on her bed, sheets barely covering her naked skin, enticing me, daring me rather, to approach her. Gert never let anyone in, no one was allowed too close to her heart, building friendships was not in the cards; she lived to get through the day and little else. She put a wall around herself; it was her greatest defense. The new Gert was adorable, charming, endearing, and engaging. She asked very few questions anymore, which made me think she was settling into her life, accepting it for what it was. She felt secure among our family and now had a passion to keep herself busy. Her energy was boundless and her idle chit-chat was amusing if not exhausting.

I wished to find a way Gert could sell her lotions to the public. She was feeling a tad underfoot and had admitted to me that she didn’t want to wear out her welcome in my home.

I was on my way to meet the Judge to discuss her case when I passed a vacant home with store front on the main street of town. It used to belong to the bakery but they moved when they outgrew the small space. I peered in the windows, noting a refrigerated case; remembering the bakers used it for pastries and cakes. The property had a large bay window, counter space, and a doorway to the back that housed a kitchen. I assumed the rooms were all upstairs. It couldn’t have been more than five hundred square feet when all was said and done but I imagined Gert’s sign above the doorway, Heaven Scents, by Gert and her running a little shop while living upstairs.

I would inquire as to the rental price or purchase price but now I was at the judge’s office and it was time to discuss her case.

He ushered me in to his room, asking immediately after Gert’s health.

“She is quite well, sir, she is keeping very busy making bath products and women’s lotions and make up. Everyone loves it and it keeps her mind off asking further questions about her past.” I reported, happy that I didn’t have to lie so much or conjure up stories about her past anymore.

“Good, very good, I am glad to hear that. We still have zero leads on the man who beat her. It’s mind boggling really, the sheriff would normally be all over this, but because the beating was on a wench he seems to be letting it go.”

“The perpetrator has to be someone in this town, who knew what she did, what her comings and goings were. He was watching her schedule for sure.”

“I agree. What do you say we go to the tavern and have some lunch, huh?” I caught on to his line of thinking and agreed maybe we needed to take this matter into our own hand.

The lunch crowd at the tavern was decent, the sheriff’s deputy sat alone as usual. I never liked that man, he was unfriendly and there was something not right about him. Just because he rubbed me the wrong way though didn’t make him a suspect. Josiah sat eating a sandwich and drinking a beer, as did several shop owners. Mingled in were ladies lunching with their book groups or volunteer organizations.

“I am going to ask the ladies some questions, why don’t you speak with Josiah and the deputy,” the judge said.

I walked to Josiah, shook his hand and told him we had no suspects. He shimmied a little closer to me and whispered in my ear. The deputy had blood on the hem of his pants, it was fresh, and droplets were forming on the floor as well. It was unusual indeed. I thanked Josiah for his keen observation and sat across from the deputy.

“Sir, any leads on Gert’s case?” I removed my top hat and placed it on the table when I sat across from the deputy.

He had finished his meal but sat staring at me, daring me to probe further.

“No, we’ll let you know when we find something out, boy. Don’t you have school or someplace else to be today?”

“No, sir, I finished my studies early today, and am lunching with the judge. Please do let us know, she was a friend of mine and I would like to see justice served.”

“She was a friend of yours huh? I find that funny.” The deputy’s body language changed and he suddenly stiffened.

“Why so?”

“Being that she was a wench and all, I didn’t think your uppity family would allow you to associate with someone so far below your station.”

“She may have made some errors in judgment, but she was, is a good person.” I wondered how he knew she was a prostitute: he wasn’t on her client list.

“A good girl doesn’t go around prostituting herself and spreading her legs for the men of this town. That makes her a slut, nothing more. She is a sinner and deserved what she got.”

I lay in to the son of a bitch with a solid punch to his jaw, I grabbed his fine leather vest and pulled him to his feet, he was quicker and bigger, but I dodged his first punch, the second however landed straight in my eye, sending me stumbling backwards. “No one deserves to be left for dead, no one, you hear me?” I was screaming now and everyone in the tavern was watching the fight.

The judge hustled over and pulled me to a still position but Josiah came out of nowhere and clocked that deputy knocking him right on his ass. Now everyone could see the blood on his pants, it left a pool on the ground and created a stir.

“I cut myself earlier today chopping wood, stop staring, Jesus Christ; you are all a bunch of no good sinners in this town.” Then he turned to Josiah and said, “You, Nigger, are under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law.”

“I don’t think so, deputy, you assaulted this minor first, tell me that isn’t against the law?” the judge said.

“Well I guess we’ll just call this a wash then, but, black boy if I catch you so much as looking at me again, I’ll bring you in for questioning in Gert’s assault. Got it?” He threatened.

The deputy left the tavern and the ladies sat fanning themselves in disbelief. Jess, the tavern owner, brought me a raw slab of beef for my eye that was already swelling.

“He did it judge, I swear that guy gives me the creeps. I just know it was him, I can’t prove it but I know it.” My intuition was speaking loudly to me.

“You might be right, boy, but we have to prove it we can’t just go around accusing people, especially the law.”

“But it makes perfect sense, that’s probably why the sheriff isn’t doing anything, his hands are tied because it’s one of his own, and that would make him look bad!” Everything made sense now.

“Uh huh, you’re right. Let’s chat with Jess for a bit and see if he has anything to add.”

The tavern owner, Jess, came over and sat at our table for a bit. Josiah, the judge, and I all told him our suspicions. Jess said that Bart came in to his tavern daily for lunch and dinner, always sitting in the same place, never bothering anybody. But he did often leave a pool of blood, which was peculiar.

“If he whipped her, who’s to say he isn’t whipping himself too; he called her a sinner? Could he have been a customer?”

Jess looked like he was in the dark.

“Give it up, Jess, we were her customers too. Josiah here found her and came to me for help, and then I went to the judge. I knew you were a customer because she told me, but she wouldn’t divulge anyone else, I know there were at least twenty clients.”

“Well now that it’s out in the open, I could tell you who her regulars were.”

The men got a pad and pencil and created a list of suspects. They had all twenty regulars and Bart’s name was not on it.

Chapter 24 Mary

“Dearest Mary, my fiance and love,

I have gone west for a time to pan for gold. Pap and Edna won’t ever welcome or approve of me until I am a man of wealth. I have left you half my winnings from the fight so you may prepare for the baby. I have taken the rest as passage to San Francisco. I will be home before our baby is born, hopefully a rich man, worthy of you and your family. I know you love me as I love you, but feel your torment regarding Edna and Pap. I am doing this for you, for us, for our future family. Be well.

Your loving fiance,

Scotty.

I held the crumpled note in my hands, having read it a dozen or more times. Sonya sensing my need for privacy left my bedside and shut the door behind her. How could he do this to me again? He has left me again, in the city no less.

I walked out to the shop seeking Pauli and Candy, holding the letter in my hands, handing it over so they could read it. Candy was shocked, but Pauli knew, guilt covered his face.

“Did you know, Pauli?” I asked

“I begged him not to go; he said Pap told him in no uncertain terms he could never make you happy unless he could provide for you as you were accustomed. He was looking to fight Vladimir, but we both knew that would end poorly. Then he suggested the draft and told me men were being paid now to sign up and fight for the country.”

“Jesus Christ.” I took the Lords name in vain as I never had before.

“But he heard a group of men talking about heading west. This was before you showed up, Mary, and I guess they were willing to add him to their group. They left today.”

“He knows nothing of mining!”

“I know, I told him that too, but he had a little money and nothing to lose. If he came back without gold, he would be no worse off.”

“But what about me? What about his baby that I am carrying, doesn’t he care?”

“He cares, child, that’s why he left without telling you.”

“He is just unbelievable.” I threw a fit akin to a child before stomping out the store.

Candy eyed Pauli and left the store as well. Only Sonya was left with Pauli, not sure what she should do.

I wandered the city for an hour, and decided to go home to Binghamton, where I belonged. I went back to the store, said my goodbyes to Pauli and Candy who were sad to see me go. I grabbed Sonya’s hand and told her we were leaving. I decided Sonya was in my life for a reason, I had grown to love her over the short time I spent with her, somehow she gave me courage and strength and I hoped I could return the favor.

I would use the money Scotty left for our train fare and pray the whole ride home that Edna was in a forgiving and welcoming mood.

Sonya sat beside me holding my hand, she had never been out of the city and didn’t know what to expect. She was another orphan train rider now just like the rest of us. We did our best to communicate, I taught her the English words for things and she was a quick oral learner, writing her ABCs was another matter.

My belly was now obvious and the note I left Edna was fresh in my memory; I walked in the front door of my home, clutching Sonya for dear life. If no one else at least I had her.

No one was home. I dropped my bags and Sonya and I went to my room for a nap.

Hours later my door creaked open and Edna stood before me.

“You’re back.” Edna was a welcome sight.

“Yes, and I have brought a friend.” Sonya was awake and clasping onto me as Eddie used to.

“I see that, what is your name child?” Edna gave her a bright welcoming smile.

“Sonya.”

“Sonya, would you like something to eat? Mary, are you hungry? Maybe we can talk over lunch?”

“I would like that Edna.” Then I mimed eating to Sonya who took our meaning and nodded her head.

Edna prepared a chicken salad with bits of red onion and celery mixed with mayonnaise and mustard, she placed one scoop full onto each lettuce wrap and set out three plates, a glass pitcher of sweet sun tea sat on the table as always and brownies were baking for dessert. I was able to eat it all and felt no nausea whatsoever.

“How are you feeling Mary?” Edna asked referring to the baby.

“I feel better now, thank you. Edna, please don’t be mad at me! I couldn’t bare it.” I felt so much better with Edna’s cooking, my stomach settled and now I blurted what was causing me the most concern.

“I am just happy you are home now where you belong. I suppose we better set up a room for our friend Sonya, I assume she will be staying here?”

Sonya had wandered from the table into the back yard, picking dandelions and blowing the seeds to make wishes.

“She was my shadow in New York, never leaving my side once. I couldn’t leave her there; it was pretty awful being back. Her English is coming along, we learned she is German, her entire family died in front of her and were thrown overboard while crossing the ocean.”

“Say no more. She is welcome, and seems to be adjusting.”

“I found Scotty.”

Silence filled the air.

“And?” Edna paused, waiting for my reply.

“And we are engaged to be married. He has gone to California, however, to pan for gold. He is among a group of men from New York that left yesterday morning. He promises to be back for the baby.” I cried when I said this out loud, acknowledging my predicament.

“Shall we talk about the baby then? Have you any idea when he or she is due?”

“I haven’t been to the doctor, but I think I have less than five months to go.”

“A Christmas baby then, that will do just fine.” Edna became lost in thought for a moment envisioning all the booties, blankets, and sweaters she would need to knit.

“Yes, a Christmas baby! I hadn’t really thought of that. Edna, he left because Pap told him he wasn’t worthy of me, he wouldn’t be able to provide for me. Does Pap really think that way?”

“Well, he worries about you, marrying someone without family ties, without any way to pay bills and provide, let alone provide as we have.” She wasn’t being pretentious just honest.

“He is the love of my life, Edna, can’t that be enough?”

“Ahh, young love, it’s a beautiful thing, but it doesn’t pay the bills or buy clothing for the baby does it? And what of your dreams, Mary, you have wanted to be a teacher…now what?”

“Nothing is more important to me now than this baby and Sonya. But I plan on talking to Miss Kate and getting her thoughts. I wonder if I can graduate through a written exam before the baby’s arrival. I am ahead in my studies and feel confident I will pass.”

The door flew open and a woman carrying a basket full of glass bottles entered.

“Pardon me, Edna; I didn’t know you had company.”

“Gert, this is Mary. Mary, this is our friend, Gert, she is staying with Edmund and Sarah at the moment.”

I felt a funny pang in my gut at the mention of Edmund’s name. I had much to explain to him and owed him an apology.

“Goodness, I am so sorry for intruding; I just wished to share the good news! I will come back!” the beautiful woman turned to leave.

“Gert, stay, join us.” Edna invited her to sit and take tea.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mary; Edmund, Sarah, and Edna have told me so much about you.” She sipped her tea and I noted her remarkable smell.

“Excuse me if this sounds strange, but you smell lovely!” It was hard not to notice the sweet smell of roses emanating from the woman.

“Thank you, here, have some rose milk for your bath,” she rummaged through her basket to pull out a bottle full of rose milk, and then she gave me rose infused lotion. I could hardly wait to bathe this afternoon. “I have been making these for a while now in Sarah’s kitchen, and you’ll never believe what Edmund has done for me!”

“What?” Edna and I chimed together.

“He has secured a lease on a property in town, with help from his parents, where I can sell my products and live for the time being! Isn’t that wonderful? Now I will have my own kitchen for experiments and an actual storefront. We are calling it Heaven Scents. The young lady before me was strikingly beautiful and very energetic: it was palpable and contagious.

“I can hardly wait to see it; please, Gert, let me know if I can help you get ready.” I needed something to take my mind off Scotty.

“I am going to town now to take an inventory of the space. Would you ladies like to join me?” She asked eagerly.

Edna said she would love to see the space and agreed to take Sonya so I could take a quick rest, and would follow later.

I undressed and added a quarter of the rose milk to the running water. I dunked my big toe in to test the temperature, the water was seething hot, just as I liked it and the fragrant aroma filled the room. I unpinned my hair and sunk into the tub laying my head back on the pillow propped against the porcelain. I relaxed. I didn’t ordinarily care much for perfumes or scents, or even lotions but the pregnancy made my senses more keen and everything more vibrant. The bath felt nourishing and resplendent, normally I was in and out of the water quickly, but today I would relish the luxury. I could feel the baby move, she rather enjoyed bath time. My body was filling out and changing daily, my breasts were full and heavy now, my middle tightening and showing signs of stretch marks already. I thought of baby names, wondered at its sex and closed my eyes, welcoming the quiet. How did I want to raise this child? What kind of parent would I be? Edna was an encouraging influence; she had the patience of a saint. She used to spend countless hours with me while I sewed crooked stitches, or stumbled over words in a poem we were memorizing together. Pap on the other hand was fairly stern, he was a stickler for manners and wanted everything organized and in its place. It took him many years to accept me for who I was. He realized finally that while you could take the girl out of the city, you were less likely to take the city out of the girl. I grew up hungry, even on our farm, we ate what we grew and if we had a bad crop we went hungry. We always had eggs from the hens, but if it was a lean year we butchered our chickens and ate every last bit of them. Da would scramble to find odd jobs to earn enough money for sacks of oats, flour, sugar, and if we were lucky there was coffee. I fondly recalled a Christmas when Mama received a tin of herbal tea; it was her only gift that year. Da made me a wooden top to spin and he went with out, but it was a merry Christmas for him because he knew his girls had something to enjoy. Pap didn’t understand my need to clean my plate and ask for seconds or thirds, or why I would pick from his plate or Edna’s. I never felt full. I hated waste and actually grew chunky as a young girl. Pap finally had enough and threatened me with a fork, I thought he was going to stab me for certain but withdrew my hand from his plate faster than he could propel the utensil towards me. “No more,” he said and I got the message. Pap also grew weary of my lack of concern over my appearance. I had given up on my untamed red curls that frizzed whenever it was damp. I never wore a bonnet in town and while women gave me sideways glances, I didn’t care. I much preferred letting my hair flow freely, not fussing over it the way women did. I wasn’t certain why appearance mattered so much, my mama always taught me it was what was inside that truly mattered. I preferred trousers to dresses and wore them around the house whenever I came home from school. Going against the grain of society I took off the layers of dress, corset, slip, and undergarment and donned the holey trousers and well-worn dress shirt Pap lent me years ago when I helped Scotty on the farm. I was far more comfortable this way. Pap rolled his eyes at me when he walked through the door and Edna told him to “leave her alone” but the shake of his head said it all. I failed to please him. When I was younger we would walk through town and I would hack up loogies just like the men, he admonished me something fierce, scolding me in front of the townsfolk for my poor manners. Why was it okay for the men to spit, or chew or smoke pipes but not the women? When I was with Scotty I smoked on his pipe and spit when I pleased and he accepted me with my unruly hair, bridge of freckles across my nose and lack of manners.

I didn’t know if I would be a stickler for rules and organization, but I knew I didn’t want this child to go hungry and ever feel the pangs that came with it. Mama used to brew nettle tea to curb our hunger and Mrs. Canter had her boys eat tissues on occasions when their bellies were growling from lack of food. I would have to work; I would complete my studies and get a teaching degree one way or another in order to provide for my child. Ours would be an atypical household, most of the women in Binghamton that had children stayed home to rear them. The men went off to work after breakfast and came home to a steaming hot plate of food at the end of the day. Our life would be far less traditional, my child would be reared by Edna, Pap, Sarah, Edmund, and I until Scotty came home, it would be a group effort, I hoped.

The water was getting colder now so I stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel that no longer wrapped all the way around my body. I was startled by a knock on the bathroom door. I knew Edna and Sonya would be gone for hours and Pap was out of town for work. I scrambled to dry off while asking, “Who is it?”

“It’s me. Scotty.”

I dropped the towel, unlatched the door, not caring that I was fully exposed and dripping wet. I threw my arms around Scotty, noting his look of concern.

“You’re back!” I was soaking him thoroughly but neither of us cared. I grabbed him, pulling him into the bathroom and locked the door.

“I am, if you’ll have me.”

“Why did you leave? I was so worried and mad, I don’t want this baby to grow up without its father.”

“I know. I thought going west and striking it rich would be the only way to earn Pap’s good graces, but then you know what? I was sitting at the train depot and thought, screw Pap, screw them all, this is my baby and I don’t give a shit what anyone other than Mary thinks of me.”

“So you never got on the train?”

“No, I sold my fare and pots and pans and headed back to Pauli’s but you had already left. I discussed the situation with them and we put our heads together. I don’t care what Pap thinks of me, but I do want to provide for you.”

Scott took me in; he scanned my growing belling and enlarging breasts, groping them with fascination.

“We will figure it out together. The only thing I truly need is you, all the rest I can live without.”

“Well, you may not have too. I brought Candy and Pauli with me to look at the farm, if they like it they would be willing to sell the shop in New York and help me to purchase and work the place. Candy thinks she would enjoy getting out of the city and they both want to be close to the baby. Pauli got a kick out of the idea of milking cows, mucking stalls and said he was willing to put in the hard work. They think they can get over two thousand dollars for their storefront and all its merchandise. That would enable us to buy the farm outright and they would have extra for travel, which they also want to do.”

“Really? They would do that for you, for us?” I was beyond shocked.

“They would, they are the closest thing to a family I’ve got aside from you that is; it was their idea actually.”

“Well what are we standing here for, let me get dressed and we’ll go meet them!” I dried myself quickly and gave my hair a quick brushing.

Seeing Pauli and Candy looking so out of place at the farm was unsettling. But they said they wanted to give country living a try. Candy stood back away from the roaming cattle, pinching her nose at their smell, she wasn’t afraid of the horses and the scrawny little kittens running about enthralled her, she reached down to pick one but it scurried away too fast. After seeing the farm, we toured them through the village where we lived and brought them back to meet Edna.

Edna was concerned that I hadn’t shown up at Gert’s storefront so she came home to check on me. Finding me with Scotty and his family surprised her but not so much that she forgot her manners. She shook hands with Pauli and Candy and immediately set about preparing sun tea and snacks.

She noted the ring on my finger, a gift from Candy to Scotty and then to me.

“Edna, Scotty and I wish to be married and run the Wright farm.”

“Is this really what your heart desires Mary? You have worked so hard to become a teacher.”

“I still can be. I can teach after the baby is born, I can tutor or find afternoon care for the baby if I am able to get a job.”

Edna softened to the idea but discussing it with Pap was another matter. He thought our approach was mutinous so he retreated to his office and sat behind his large neatly organized oak desk pouring himself one brandy after another.

“Pap, can’t you see I’m different? Please just accept me for who I am! I love Scotty, and I love this baby and I don’t want to have to choose between you. You and Edna have given me everything I could have asked for and I am grateful, but what I have learned is that I don’t need stuff. What I need are people in my life, willing to stay by my side when things get hard. Scotty has been there for me always, and Pauli and Candy have helped him. He and I, well, we’re survivors. We’re orphan train riders, we adapt.”

“I just want you to be happy is all; I don’t want you to struggle anymore. When you came to us, you were so thin; we could count your ribs, did you know that? It scared the bejesus out of us, what you went through as a child, I wouldn’t want it for anyone.”

“Pap, I know, I remember. But look at me now. I am happy, truly happy, and I know what really matters in this life, perhaps more than most. I have suffered abuse and hunger, I have seen death and fighting, I lived in squalor, among filth and few resources if any, yet here I am. I am here. I am not leaving Pap; please accept me how I am. Accept Scotty too, please, for me. I can’t lose any more people in my life.”

I began sobbing, and Pap pulled me into the wide berth of his arms, smoothing my hair and saying, “There, there, it’ll be all right.” And I do believe he was sincere.

We came to an agreement; he didn’t want to lose me either and would do his best to get along with Scotty, although he was beyond angry for his lack of responsibility and putting me in this position. Plus there was the question of the animal murders at the Wright Farm, no one had been arraigned on charges for that as of yet.

“Maybe it happened for a reason, Pap, it is how I have to look at things. If my da didn’t die, I wouldn’t have made it to the city, if my mama didn’t die I wouldn’t have gotten on a train and met you, you wouldn’t have taken me in, you and Edna would not be grandparents soon.”

He took out his hanky and dried his eyes. “Grandpa, that does sound rather nice, doesn’t it?”

We hugged once more and approached the crowd in the living room; it had grown to include Edmund Sarah, Samuel, and Gert too. We toasted to my pregnancy and engagement, and toasted to the contract before Pauli with the rights to the farm. I had never been so happy in my life.

Chapter 25 Heaven Scents

Opening day for Heaven Scents was tomorrow! We were able to fit four small round tables into the store with plenty of room for customers to browse and move around. We covered the tables with bright white lace cloths to best showcase our merchandise. Each table held a display of soaps and lotions, creams, lip balms, dusting powders and bath products. The ladies and I fussed with the packaging before settling on simple ribbons tied around the soaps that were placed inside a large glass canister with lid. The rose soaps had pink ribbons, the lavender had purple, and the orange ginger had orange ribbon and so on. My mind was frenzied; I thought of new products and recipes to experiment with daily and stayed up late at night fostering my culinary skills, often creating my best products from mistakes, such as the case with my orange ginger concoction. Similarly, the idea for soap for men came to me when I was using pine cones in an arrangement for the store window, I had a fleeting memory of a man smelling of clean air and pine and voila, my pine soap was born. I woke in the middle of the night to jot fresh ideas and then had trouble falling back to sleep. My adrenaline kept me moving throughout the day as did the excitement coming from the ladies.

The shop sign that Edmund made was creative and fit perfectly above the door frame. A sign with our hours was prepared and would be hung on the door itself beginning tomorrow morning.

I borrowed money from Edmund to purchase a register and set it in the back of the store so I could check customers out and still take note of who was milling about or had questions. Edna and Sarah were more than willing to help with the register and so were Mary and Sonya, the dear child.

For our grand opening we sent out handwritten notices to every shop in town and we put them in each and every mailbox we could find. We prepared the food ahead of time and would brew fresh coffee in the morning for our first customers.

I did not expect to wake on opening day to a line of shoppers outside the door! It was overwhelming but not impossible for them to walk about the store, using the baskets we provided for their purchases.

A rather elegant older woman wearing a hoop dress had difficulty traversing the isles but otherwise everything was harmonious. Ladies nibbled on fruit slices, cheese and crackers as well as raspberry tarts, others tried the samples we laid out. Everyone who entered the store left with one or more items in their possession. One woman looked around pensively then approached me with the idea of gift baskets. She wanted me to make up several with a variety of products and she would pick them up later that day. I sent Sonya to the hardware store for more sizable baskets and she came back huffing and puffing, saying everyone was talking about the shop. Gift baskets became a large part of my business, from then on I had several prepared and on display at all times. The first month of business came and went swiftly. If Edna didn’t put a plate of food before me at closing time I fear I would have forgotten to eat. I was overjoyed, we all were. After I closed the shop at five o’clock in the evening I set about refilling my product with Sonya’s help. The child could not yet read her ABC’s and was acclimating to our English language, but until she had a firmer grasp on it she was not allowed in kindergarten. Instead she helped me with mixing and packaging, she knew where every new item should be placed and kept a keen eye on the store during operation hours. Candy, our new friend in town, suggested I keep a ledger for my sales, along with a list of materials needed for items so that I may purchase in larger quantities at a reduced price. She ran a retail Mr. and Mrs. Shoppe in the city and was helpful with the customers, a born saleslady if there ever was one.

Gentleman entered the store to make purchases as well as women. They often spent more money than their wives who tried to whittle down my price or ask for numerous samples. The men were matter of fact, and never haggled. One gentleman approached the counter looking at me rather oddly and asked, “So are you back in business then?” I deflected the question, rang him up and packaged his items, certain he had me confused with someone else. Another older man asked if I had any calling cards, and still more lurked about the space, always making purchases but acting as if I should know them, like they were looking for something.

One afternoon around four forty-five I began dusting the tables and capping the samples so they didn’t dry out. A gentleman with a limp entered the store. A shiver shot down my spine and the hair on my arms rose. I desperately tried to work my way towards the front door, my closest exit. I dusted and rearranged while I chatted with him working my way forward. “So how is business, Gert?” He stepped closer to me with his funny walk.

“Business is booming as you can see. What can I get for you, something for the Mrs. perhaps?” I asked.

“What I asked was, how is business?” Then he proceeded to pace the shop, turned my door sign to closed and asked where the bed was.

I was befuddled. Why on earth would he want to know about my bed?

“Sir, I am sorry, perhaps you have me confused. I really need to close and get home, so maybe you can come back?”

He walked towards me, and I noted a trail of blood, tiny droplets stained my floor and a sudden flashback occurred. He was the one; the man that hurt me, that man had blood dripping too, but why? I forced myself to conjure any memory I could, but he had me by the wrists and was pulling me through the kitchen and up the staircase searching for a bed. He looked around anxiously, gripped my other wrist and tied them together with his belt. He forced me into a chair in my bedroom and began undressing. I struggled to break my hands free and threatened to scream. He stuffed his handkerchief in my mouth and tried to rile himself with his hands, stroking his member up and down. I gagged on the handkerchief and took note of all his scarring and disfigurement. “You like it rough don’t you, sweetheart? I told you I’d be back, what’s wrong you didn’t believe me?” Next, he ungagged me and shoved his mangled penis into my mouth, I spit, and bit down on him, but that egged him on. He pushed me to the bed, lifted my skirts and began his assault. As he did, my memory flooded with images of other men on top of me, some rough, but not the majority. I felt the sting of his belt’s whip, he spared no mercy when he attacked me before and probably wouldn’t now either. He finished servicing himself and dressed, then he untied my wrists, and said he would be back to check on me, make sure my business was clean and all.

When he left I filled the tub, recoiling from his stench and the filthy memories torturing my mind. There were so many men, I remembered taking money from them, remembered inviting them to my room, even Edmund. My dearest Edmund, how could he? How could he look at me now and treat me with kindness. Knowing what I did, shame overcame me. I stripped and stared at my scarred body in the looking glass while I filled the tub. I grabbed my kitchen knife and studied my wrists. I sat in the tub, and began cutting. I cut to feel pain and dull it all at the same time. My cuts sunk deeper and the tub filled higher, turning pink from the blood. My breath slowed and I flickered in and out of consciousness, suddenly desperate to leave a note for Edmund. I sloshed out of the tub, grabbed paper from my nightstand scribbling……I’m sorry……remembered…….too much……crippled man…..blood. Then I passed out.

Chapter 26 Edmund

I would go to Gert with today’s wonderful news! Mary had received her graduation papers and we were planning a surprise party in her honor. Her teacher agreed to a written exam and Mary not only passed but aced the test. Preparations had begun, Edna and Sarah were working on the menu and Gert and I were to work on the invitations and entertainment.

The store wasn’t opened and it was a quarter past ten, peculiar indeed. I jiggled the door handle but it was locked. I went around back to peer in the windows and everything looked in place. I sat outside the store for a while and panic set in, call it a sixth sense. Never before had Gert failed to open her shop and surely if she had to go somewhere she would have asked one of the women to fill in. Things were out of place. I jiggled the handle once more, ran to the hardware store and borrowed a screwdriver, came back to the shop and took the handle right off, reaching my hand inside to undo the lock. I noted a trail of blood on the floor; the pattern was unusual so I followed it in a circle and towards the back steps. Taking the stairs two at a time I found Gert, lying in a pool of blood, dead.

I ran outside and grabbed a boy who was walking past the shop and told him to run for help immediately.

I went back to Gert, holding her in my lap, cradling her and rocking her back and forth. Why? God Why?

I saw the paper under her bed and waited for someone else to come and fetch it. Candy was the first to arrive. She checked Gert’s pulse, stifled a sob and reached for towels to sop up the pool of blood.

“Your mother is on her way.” Candy said, not knowing what else to do. She sat with me, tears flowing freely, neglecting the puddles of blood, lost in her own train of thought.

“Edmund?” my mother called out frantically.

Candy went to the stairs and guided her up. She was met with a gruesome sight, for now I was covered in blood too.

“What happened, are you okay? Oh my God.” She ran to me, dropping to her knees to see where my blood was coming from. I had never heard her take the Lord’s name in vain before.

Candy explained it wasn’t from me, she turned Gert’s wrists to show Sarah what happened and the two women sat stunned.

The men of the family came; Mary came and heaved at the sight before her. Everyone tried to pull me from Gert, but it was Mary that finally succeeded. Together we lay on Gert’s bed, while the men took the body and cleaned the mess. Mary rubbed my back and head as she did so many years ago on the train, telling me it would be all right.

The women found the note and read it aloud. My suspicions were right. It had to be the deputy. He would pay, of that I was sure.

Chapter 27 Wedding

“Let’s postpone the wedding.” I had been thinking about this and now that we were seated together for supper I stated my feelings on the matter. “It’s just too soon after Gert’s death, Edmund is in mourning and I don’t feel right about a celebration right now.” I placed my hands on my expanding belly, thinking of Edmund. His grief was palpable; he had lost weight and was gaunt. We were all surprised to hear the truth about Gert and her past digressions, but chose to remember her for the joy she brought to each of us. Edmund’s connection to her remained a mystery for now.

“Darling, I know, but the baby will be here soon and you want to be married before her arrival.” Edna was convinced I was carrying a girl.

“I agree with Edna, a little celebration is exactly what this family needs.” Pap said sternly.

“What if the judge marries us in a civil ceremony? Then we can have a reception later, after the baby is born?” Edna and Pap had to agree this was a good idea.

“I have dreamed of your wedding day,” Edna said, “you walking down the aisle to meet your groom, Pap giving you away at the altar, I have dreamed of it so often I know the flowers that make up your bouquet.” Edna sniffed.

“I have too, Edna, but I just feel my celebration can wait, Edmund’s feelings are far more important to me right now. He isn’t the same; he doesn’t talk, hasn’t come to visit me, and spends all his time alone. I worry about him.”

“We all do, Mary.” Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

The following morning I felt contractions, they were far too soon, and the doctor said it was premature labor brought on by Gert’s death and my concerns over graduating, which were now appeased, thankfully.

Candy had graciously taken over the store while we figured out what to do with it. She preferred it to farm work, and had a knack for merchandising.

I was put on bed rest for the duration of my pregnancy and as a result we decided unanimously that the wedding ceremony was to take place in my bedroom, with the judge presiding. The reception would follow after the holidays.

Edna insisted on flowers, and a new quilt for the bedroom. She fussed and cleaned profusely laundering the curtains and fluffing the pillows as well as snatching each and every dust bunny that gathered in corners or lurked under my bed. The day of the wedding came and I was honored to wear Edna’s ivory silk wedding gown, the lustrous fabric was like a second skin, the dresses neckline and sleeves having been embellished with salt water pearl beads by her own mother’s hand. The bottom half of the gown did not show so hemming it was not necessary. I allowed Edna the pleasure of fussing with my hair. She braided it around my head and gave me a halo made from baby’s breath.

To my surprise Scotty purchased his first suit along with new rings for the both of us. They were simple gold bands with our initials and the word forever engraved on the inside. I would wear Candy’s ring as well and they fit beautifully together.

Before the judge performed our ceremony we had a moment of silence for Gert, may she be at peace now and forever more. We had no readings, and no music, just spoken promises and our family, along with the Wrights beside us as our witnesses. I was delighted to see Edmund enter the room before we said our “I do’s” he smiled at me and stood against my dresser wiping at his tears with a handkerchief embroidered with a navy blue E.

He and I had spent the bulk of our lives together; he was my true family and came to be by my side although it was painful for him.

The judge carried on with the service, “Do you, Mary, take Matthew Scotty Wright to be your lawful husband, in sickness and in health until death do you part?”

“I do.” I was propped up in bed, staring into Scott’s eyes, holding his firm hands in my own. He never knew his last name, so we took on the name of Wright to honor the farmer who was exceedingly kind to Scott.

“And do you, Mathew Scotty Wright take Mary to be your wife in sickness and in health until death do you part?”

“I do.” We placed our rings on each other’s fingers.

“Then you may kiss your bride.” Scott leaned in and kissed me with every ounce of his soul, my family and his clapping and cheering us on.

Everyone hugged us and wished us well. Even the baby kicked and made a fuss at all the commotion.

The day’s business however was not complete. We had the judge write up official adoption papers for Sonya and while the family was altogether he performed a simple adoption ceremony, Sonya was now under our care and part of our blessed, growing family.

When we lay in bed that night, we thanked God in our prayers for bringing us together all those years ago under the stoop in the Five Points, then we made sweet love and kissed goodnight.

Life went on peacefully. We were married now with one child to look after already and one soon to enter the world. I stayed at Edna’s until the baby’s arrival because it was easier for her to care for me in her home while I was on bed rest. Sonya never left my side unless it was to help Edna in the kitchen where she was becoming quite the culinary wiz, or to help Candy in the Heaven Scents shop. The name of the store was not lost on any of us. I was anxious to get settled into my farmhouse and put my touches on it, but happy to have Edna’s care in the meantime.

The men worked tirelessly at the farm, increasing the head of cattle significantly and raising a third barn for them. We had over one hundred acres, plenty of land for the cattle to roam and grow fat for slaughter. Additionally, Scotty saddled the horses and rode them through the fields, trails, and streams to check the property and exercise the animals. Pauli was nervous around the large animals but Candy was fearless and took to Savannah, our newest mare riding her every morning before heading into town to the shop.

Candy grew to love the Heaven Scents business and made the decision to keep it open if that was okay with all of us. We agreed Gert would want it that way and handed all rights to the property to her.

Bart was arrested for the brutal beating of Gert and was also questioned in the murder of the animals at the Wrights farm although he denied that. He was sentenced to death by hanging.

The judge asked Edmund to clerk for him, and he did so for a time. They had developed a nice relationship over the years, the judge becoming a mentor to him propagating his ideas of law school. But he was so forlorn after Gert’s death and confided in me that being in Binghamton was too hard for him. He intended to leave once the baby was born.

He talked of heading west, not to pan for gold but to sell merchandise to those who were. He had devised a well thought out plan; he would purchase Levi’s jeans, pots and pans, cradles and sieves, along with bedrolls, tents, and food in bulk. He would set up shop in San Francisco and sell his product for double his cost. He would send word to Samuel when he needed more and by then he would have a store address where merchandise could be shipped. I didn’t want to see him go; it would be the first time we were truly apart. My heart broke at the thought and I worried about his lungs, but I also knew he couldn’t stay. He loved Gert, that much was obvious and whenever he walked the streets of our town or closed his eyes, her image haunted him.

The day after Thanksgiving I had a great deal of indigestion followed by labor pains that came strong and fast. The women called the midwife who came at once, after an internal exam she said I had dilated five centimeters. The men waited anxiously for news of the baby in our parlor. I cried out in pain and was covered in a slick layer of sweat, when the time came to push; Edna held my hand giving me courage. Our daughter fought her way into the world on November twenty-eighth. Hers was an easy birth and I was grateful to have had Edna and Sarah by my side through it all, witnessing the miracle of life.

My daughter’s tiny face peered up at ours questioningly, taking us in and smiling ever so briefly. She had a full head of black hair, like her father. I placed her to my breast and she latched on perfectly and suckled away.

“What should we call her?” Scotty asked overwhelmed and searching my face for clues. “How about Tabitha?” he wondered out loud.

“No, I think it’s time.” I cleared my throat and wiped my eyes dry before continuing, “It’s time for forgetting Tabitha.” I hadn’t been called by my birth name in nearly ten years; it held a special yet painful, place in my heart. It always brought my father and mother to my mind, as well as the farm in West Chester, my animals, and all the people I met in the city, even the Canters, called me Tabitha. It is who I was; Tabitha Colleen Salt.

“I was thinking of something different.” I gazed at my newborn, into the depths of her heart and soul and wanted only one thing.

“Well, then out with it.” Scotty waited without much patience to hear my thoughts.

“I was thinking of Lilith Gertrude. We can call her Lilly which means new beginning.” My daughter had a whole world in front of her, and while I was sure it would not be without strife, it would be full of love from doting parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, and of course her big sister, Sonya.

Epilogue

Symbolic of my journey is the locket I wear daily around my neck. The confines within engendering the sorrows and joys traversed in my seventy years. I finger the grooves thoughtfully honoring the memory of the woman who gave me life, my mama. I kiss the piece of jewelry and allow the evening’s gentle breeze to bathe my skin while I rock on the porch with my great-grandson. The air has a cool dewy quality signaling a storm, so I beckon to Lilly.

“Time to get the laundry in off the line, Lilly,” I called quietly into the kitchen careful not to unsettle the baby.

At forty-nine, Lilly basked in the glow of all her triumphs. She was a school teacher, a mother, wife and now a grandmother. She sat at the worn kitchen table grading papers as I once had, with pen in hand and a look of determination spread wide across her face. She put down her marking tool and grabbed the sturdy basket I wove so long ago for such a purpose, hustling outside to undo the clothespins and bring in the laundry before it got drenched.

In Lilly I fostered a love for reading, as a child she absorbed books like I did, and together we discussed our favorite characters animatedly. She joined the literary society and even authored short stories of her own. Lilly filled my shoes when I left my position as head teacher of the elementary school, and she also took over the library that I started in the early 70s, it was the first library with circulating books in our city and one of my proudest accomplishments. Lilly met a wonderful man whose daughter she taught over the years. When he became widowed they fell into a natural love. We embraced our first granddaughter and welcomed the baby they had together the following year. Baby Beatrice was a joy to behold, adding to the joie de vivre for life Lilly already had. Motherhood suited Lilly; she was not easily flustered, took things in stride and laughed loudly and often. I couldn’t have asked for more in a daughter.

Sonya had become the first woman in our family to graduate from college. She attended the esteemed University of Binghamton and graduated magna cume laude with a degree in language arts. She not only spoke English and German but Spanish, Italian, French and had learned Chinese. She was in high demand for her ability to communicate with other cultures, everyone from government officials to merchants hired her to decipher contracts, look over shipments and help write letters to enhance their business. Her husband is a highly regarded college professor, a lovely man by the name of Frank who adoringly calls me Mom. They gave us our first grandson, Lenny who today has followed in his father’s footsteps and teaches at the University of Binghamton. Imagine her fate if she had not become my shadow all those years ago…

Scotty and I never had more children. Not for lack of trying. Oh we had fun in the trying, but God didn’t see fit I suppose, we were busy loving the two girls we had and taking care of other business.

Candy closed her shop when she was fifty-five years young, and she and Pauli took their savings and set out to travel the world, sending us postcards from Florida, Chicago, California, and then from overseas. They passed away some time during their travels in Paris, the details are unclear, but thankfully we have their bones settled in our backyard garden, close to us where they belong.

Edna died in her late seventies, it was a peaceful passing Pap woke up one morning and found her no longer with us. She lived a blessed life and told me many times, “Mary, you are the most splendid little thing!” I remember her voice, pleasant manner, and loving embrace. Each year on my birthday she gave a special thanks to my birth parents for bringing me to her, keeping their memory alive in my heart. I was grateful that Edna loved me as if I were her own child, regardless of my past and lineage.

Pap died two years after Edna, he had chest tightness and difficulty breathing but shrugged it off as indigestion, it was a heart attack in actuality and he passed away in the hospital, his entire family by his side.

Sarah and Samuel passed on shortly after Edna and Pap, Sarah from a ravaging cancer and Samuel from heartache. It was a difficult time for everyone; no one wants to see their loved ones suffer.

Edmund left the day after Lilly was born and never came back our way again. Over the years he sent gifts to the girls for Christmas and their birthdays, but otherwise his correspondence was coarse. We encouraged him to come back home, especially when Sarah was battling cancer and asking for him, but he was unable to for reasons only I could understand.

I still think of Eddie among my greatest blessings. If I did not have him to look after on our train ride west I would have been an indentured worker, no doubt leading a far more difficult existence. He nuzzled his way into my heart where he remains. I identify with him, though few others do, orphan train riders have different ways to survive. His is to escape pain; everyone he loves has been taken from him in one facet or another. Even me, for I married Scott. Eddie’s proposal to me made me realize that he thought of me as his future wife, not his cousin. His parents abandoned him, Gert came into and out of his life, and in one of his few letters addressed only to me he professed that he loved me still and couldn’t bear to remain so close to me while I was married to another. I worry about his health, specifically his lungs and hold him in my prayers daily, believing that one day I will see him again although as time slips by the likelihood of that wanes.

Next to raising my girls, and now caring for my great-grand-baby, teaching was my greatest joy. How wonderful that a girl from the slums could obtain a teaching certificate. I owe it all to Edna and Pap for taking me in all those years ago.

Scotty remains my one and only true love, my soul mate if you will. We are among the lucky few who find this in their lifetime. We were destined to meet under our stoop and forge a friendship that would last as long as it has. He is my dearest confidant, most trusted companion and he never fails to make me laugh. We don’t have much in the way of material goods, but we have each other and the farm, and for us this is all that matters. Our children understand that we view things a tad differently than other town folks; we aren’t any better or worse, just different. We prioritize family above all else, and have a fierce loyalty to one another. Our resilience and love was embedded in our early years and is the reason why we survived.

My husband is out on his old gal, Sugar, roaming our property checking the fences as he does each and every night regardless of the weather. His arthritis has flared up again making it difficult to hold tight to the reins, but Sugar is reliable and steady of foot. The dewy evenings are his favorite time to ride and he says it keeps him young. He still flexes his muscles for me to this day and he still calls me “Red”.

We sold the cattle and sows years back, but kept a few horses for the children who love to ride just like their father. Our days working the farm are over, now it is ours simply to enjoy.

Scotty taught me many things beginning with the definition of family, which in our case was not tied by blood but rather kinship and respect. He made me realize the importance of a work ethic, that no matter how large or small the job, you do it well and consequently will be given the respect you deserve. Scotty didn’t believe in short cuts. He showed me how to put faith and trust in another human being and after so much loss and devastation early in our lives, how to love unconditionally and how to trust. But most important, he taught me that while it’s okay to look back it’s divine to let go, look forward and breathe in the life around me. And that’s just what I do.

About the Author

Julie Dewey is a novelist who is inspired by history. In her dreams she lives in the 18th century but in reality she resides with her family in Central New York, America’s snow capital.

Her daughter is a singer/songwriter and her son is a boxer. Her husband is an all around hard-working, fantastic guy with gorgeous blue eyes that had her falling her for him the moment they met 24 years ago.

Julie is passionate about jewelry design and gemstones, she loves anything and everything creative. If she isn’t writing, she can be found decorating, knitting, decoupaging, stamping, scrapping, working with metal, shopping or napping.

Visit Julie at http://www.juliedewey.com for a book group guide and to read an excerpt from her second novel, One Thousand Porches