Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider (31 page)

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