Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider (15 page)

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.