Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider (29 page)

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Authors: Julie Dewey

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Retail

BOOK: Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider
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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.

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