Home for Erring and Outcast Girls

by Julie Kibler

  But I haven’t decided yet if I can bear to accompany her Sunday, even to see her play.

  Today, though, she’s coming to Arlington for the first time, and I’ll introduce her to Laurel, and to our sweet cat, Dilly, who fusses over both of us like a tiny, obsessed matron.

  After Christmas break, when I got out of my own head, I finally put the pieces together. Laurel, in those same three shirts, with the overstuffed backpack and questionable personal hygiene, was as homeless as Dilly. She’d been living in her car, or sleeping in the main library under the guise of studying, too embarrassed to admit her financial aid wouldn’t cover housing. Showering at the gym. Staying in the teen shelter when she was desperate for warmth. Sometimes, she admitted, she’d even slept in the Berachah cemetery.

  I remembered the first time I’d seen her there so early in the morning, lying under the jagged tree. I also remembered telling her that so many secrets hide in plain view, waiting for someone to notice them. I was guilty of not looking for that one.

  I spoke with the housing director, and Laurel finally has the dorm room I’ve assumed she was living in all along. She stays with me whenever she wants to.

  I recently told Laurel to think about something: I’d like to legally adopt her. She’s an adult, and she gets to make her own decisions, but I know she’s going to need mothering for a long time yet. People might think it strange, but sometimes we need to make things official. If she says no, it’s okay—I’ll feel exactly the same. By choice, she’s my one chance to be a mother.

  Recently, my own mother contacted me. A simple note to my work email, easy enough to find online, saying she has many regrets and would like to talk, if I’m willing. She said it doesn’t matter to her now what my life looks like—or whom I love, and that she makes her own decisions these days.

  I remember when they called River’s full name at graduation.

  River Grace Wilder…

  My mother’s head swung up, her eyes full of fear, but strangely, no surprise.

  My heart broke again, thinking of all the wasted years between us. I’m not sure we can make up for them.

  Today, I have promises to keep. The first is just for me. I’m going to have one last good cry in the cemetery over my girls from the Home, for all their hopes and heartbreaks and miracles, now peacefully buried in the past. Then I’ll walk into this glorious spring evening and enjoy it with my two favorite people in the living and breathing world.

  My family. My Home.

  Our story is there. It waits to be written.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The Berachah Industrial Home in Arlington, Texas, was dedicated May 14, 1903, by Reverend James Toney and Maggie Mae Upchurch, and closed January 1, 1935. Alla Mae Upchurch and her husband, the Reverend Frank Wiese, reopened it as an orphanage shortly afterward but were unable to sustain it financially long-term. The orphanage closed in 1942, ending nearly a half century of work at the location with rescued women and children. The Upchurches retired to Oak Cliff, where J. T. died in 1950 and Maggie Mae in 1963.

  Approximately three thousand erring and outcast girls, more often than not with their babies or children, passed through the home, some only as long as it took to find new footing, while others stayed for years.

  Mattie B. McBride, who inspired the character of Mattie, died tragically in the midst of a record heat wave in Oklahoma City on July 12 or 13, 1933, and is buried next to her son in the Berachah Home cemetery, with a stone dedicated to both of them by her husband, J. F. McBride. According to The Purity Journal, “Cap” Dewey Corder died shortly after they arrived in 1904. I took authorial liberty in imagining them both suffering from cystic fibrosis before the disease was formally identified—Cap with the severe form from birth, Mattie with the milder form that didn’t affect her until much later in life. The real cause of Cap’s death is unknown to me.

  Maudie Elizabeth Bates, together with her daughter, Docia May Bates, who inspired the characters of Lizzie and Docie, lived at the Berachah Home for years. In spite of copious amounts of research, I’ve never learned what happened to either after their last appearance in the records, around 1926, but I’d like to think they both found a happy ending. According to the theology of the Nazarene Holiness Church, Elizabeth Bates could have remarried in 1940 at nearly sixty years of age, when her husband died. He married her and deserted her when she was fourteen. He married at least three more times. The account near the end of this novel of Elizabeth Bates’s earlier years and death of her son are a paraphrase of her own testimony from The Purity Journal with some details fictionalized.

  Hattie/Hattye V. Saylor, who inspired the character of Hallie/Hallye V. Taylor, never married and retired after years of faithful service to the Berachah Home. She died in 1963, though her headstone in the Oak Cliff cemetery lists no year of death. The stone with no name in the Berachah cemetery is real, and local legend says she chipped her name away to avoid embarrassing rumors. Legend also hints at an affair, but I have no personal knowledge of one.

  Real women and children who lived at the home inspired many minor characters. Maggie Mae Upchurch discovered the real May living in a burned-out carriage in Dallas and brought her to the home shortly after Elizabeth Bates arrived. The story of May’s return after running way is imagined. The Refuge Cottage was real, created in the old barn for rehabilitating the hardest cases, and was Elizabeth Bates’s vision. Before renovation, it was where she went to pray.

  After changing hands several times, the land where the Berachah Industrial Home was located was purchased by the nearby University of Texas at Arlington. The lone reminders of the home’s campus, which ultimately had around fourteen buildings, are the foundation of the small chapel and the cemetery, sometimes called the “Lost Cemetery of Infants,” though several adults are buried there as well as babies and children. The cemetery was protected as a Texas historical site on March 7, 1981. Majestic trees still inhabit the surrounding park.

  Cate’s character came from my imagination. Some of her experiences, however, reflect those of women and girls I have known, through parenting and foster parenting as well as witnessing the underbelly of church politics as a pastor’s daughter, former minister’s wife, and layperson. The reputation of the church has often taken precedence over the well-being of an innocent child or adult—most often, but not always, female. Like any human organization, religious institutions can be safe havens in some instances, and the opposite in others.

  The Purity Journal was a real publication of the Berachah Home, originally called The Berachah Bulletin, then The Purity Journal, and eventually The Purity Crusader, all now in the public domain. I used The Purity Journal throughout the novel for clarity. Notes appearing as “Memorandums” in this novel are either paraphrased or fictitious, with two exceptions, reprinted from the journals: “The Prodigal Daughter,” a poem by Hattye V. Saylor, and the set of thoughts from J. T. Upchurch in the April 15, 1905, Memorandum, compiled from several issues. My tremendous appreciation goes to the University of Texas at Arlington’s Special Collections department, which maintains the Berachah Home Collection. This remarkable area is much as I’ve described in the story, with dedicated employees passionate about preserving the history they touch every day. A master’s thesis by Cody Shane Davis entitled Historical Archaeology At The Berachah Rescue Home: A Holistic Approach And Analysis Of An Industrial Homestead In Arlington, Texas was extremely helpful in identifying some of the topography and physical characteristics of the Berachah campus.

  While I remained true to the history of the Home and its inhabitants wherever possible, utilizing primary and secondary sources, including interviews with family and friends of the Home, they, as well as the other locales and historic time periods and events in this novel, are used fictitiously, with broad editorial license. Any errors in facts or references are mine alone.

  “In conclusion, friends, let us look over the field, hear t
he heartbroken cries of the lost girls of the land, remember time is short, eternity is long…”

  —J. T. UPCHURCH

  For Heather, Kelly, Emilie, Kristen, Jacinda, and Katherine, all daughters of my heart, whether home to stay or just passing through,

  and in memory of my cousin, Ann Lacy Ellison, reader extraordinaire, whose family has loved many generations of erring and outcast girls.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A host of publishing professionals deserve my gratitude for ushering this novel to publication. Wonder agent Elisabeth Weed has my deepest appreciation for patiently waiting as I set eight unfinished stories aside as “not quite right” before learning of a tiny cemetery in Arlington, Texas. She recognized I’d finally struck a vein of gold, and helped me mine it. Thanks also to Hallie Schaefer for keeping The Book Group in line, and Jenny Meier and Jody Hotchkiss for continuing to shop foreign and film rights. You’ve all made so many of my dreams come true.

  Hilary Rubin Teeman, my incredibly smart editor, first at St. Martin’s Press and now at Crown, pushed me to make this the best story it could be—and gave me the space to do it. What new world will we visit next? Editorial assistant Jillian Buckley completed my author questionnaire with my vague input while I was in a medically induced haze after herniating a disc while finishing the first draft (Sit up straight, friends!). She keeps the wheels turning. I may never meet my copyeditor, proofreader, typesetter, cover designer, or production editor, but these fine folks, as well as the publicists and marketing teams who will deliver this project into the hands of all the right people—thank you. To Crown Publishing at large, especially Molly Stern and Annsley Rosner Slawsky, thank you for giving me a new publishing home and another chance to work with Hilary.

  My former publicist at St. Martin’s Press, Katie Bassell, deserves unlimited kudos for driving much of the success of my first novel, Calling Me Home, affording me the opportunity to sell another book, even if she can’t come with me to Crown. (Oh, come on, SMP, loan her out, please!) Katie, you’re a champion and a friend.

  Carolyn Smitherman has my eternal gratitude for sharing an article on Facebook about Arlington’s “Most Haunted Places,” where I first read about the Berachah Home (though I’ll never believe the cemetery is haunted, but instead, graced by the presence of so many sweet souls). Local authors Tui Snider, Evelyn Barker, and Leah Worcester published several informative pieces that jump-started my research.

  Our dear friend John Lobley graciously allowed me to ask many questions about cystic fibrosis, a horrible disease still in need of a cure. His son Sam, a talented writer and musician, lived valiantly until May 10, 2019, a week before his graduation from Tufts University, summa cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa.

  Chloe Gropper is responsible for one of the best lines in this novel, which stood out for me the first time I heard it, as related to me by my friend and fellow author Amy Sue Nathan. It sums up, generally, what this book is all about.

  Countless readers have sent emails and messages—and even real letters!—telling me about their experiences reading Calling Me Home and hassling me to finish another book until I finally did. Thank you for your enthusiasm and grace and for sharing your own stories. I want to especially thank Kristy “Bee” Barrett, Tonni Callan, Susan Peterson, and author Barbara Davis, four book evangelists who never stop telling the world about Calling Me Home. Librarians, booksellers, and book club members, you have kept me in business long enough to provide a built-in audience for my new book. Thanks, and please keep being amazing.

  My sweet cousin and a voracious reader, Ann Lacy Ellison, in her excitement at finding it online, was the first to post the cover for Home for Erring and Outcast Girls on social media. I asked her to take it down because I wasn’t quite ready to share. This is to my great regret in retrospect, as she would have enjoyed the responses so much. She was suddenly taken from her family and her vast world of author and reader friends on October 1, 2018, after a fast and furious battle with cancer. I wish, more than anything, she could have read this book. I will miss having the greatest cheerleader of all.

  My critique partner, Joan Mora, has read as many versions of this story as my agent and editor, with patience, enthusiasm, and wisdom. Others have read all or parts of the manuscript—Emilie Boggs, Gail Clark, Margaret Dilloway, Heather Hood, Susan Ishmael, Jerrie Oliver, and Seré Prince Halverson. Each helped me navigate a difficult story to tell.

  Heather Hood, who assisted me with research for this book from the beginning, was as taken with it as I was. She searched out details before I realized I needed them, visited the cemetery more than was strictly necessary, and loves the characters as fiercely as I do. We have a history of erring and being cast out together, experiences that have only strengthened our twenty-five-year relationship as foster mother and daughter, sisters of the heart, and friends. Even if you still don’t love Miss Hallye as much as I do, how could I have done it alone?

  My husband, Todd Kibler, listens endlessly to my rambling brainstorms and eureka moments and keeps the home fires burning while managing his own busy career. To all of my precious children and grandchildren and my extended family, thanks for putting up with my weird ways. Some members of our diverse clan may struggle with the story, but I know they’ll always love me, for our family is built on acceptance and unconditional love. You guys are the best family ever, full stop.

  University of Texas at Arlington Special Collections, The Nazarene Archives, Newspapers.com, the Oklahoma Leader archives, The Arlington Journal archives, and so many other resources, including hundreds of professional and amateur photographers, genealogists, and historians who have posted photos, family trees, and other helpful information online, made researching this novel easier and quite fun. The rabbit holes are real.

  Those who labored and sacrificed to found and run the Berachah Industrial Home—the Upchurches, their children, the many workers and donors—are mostly gone, but I wish I could meet and thank them. I appreciate the Reverend Kay Lancaster, an Upchurch great-granddaughter, for letting me interview her about her knowledge of the Home and her family lore. I regret that I never managed to visit with her mother, Dorthy Nelle Upchurch Betts, before she was gone.

  Most of all, here’s to the Erring and Outcast Girls—all of you, past and present—who have persisted in the face of unimaginable adversity and fought for truth, grace, and acceptance. And here’s to those who “fell,” but couldn’t rise again.

  If not for these women, there would be no story.

  ALSO BY JULIE KIBLER:

  Calling Me Home

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Julie Kibler is the bestselling author of Calling Me Home, which was an Indie Next List Great Read, a Target Club Pick, and a Ladies’ Home Journal Book Club Pick and has been published in fifteen languages. She has a bachelor’s degree in English and journalism and a master’s degree in library science. She lives with her family, including four rescued dogs and cats, in Texas.

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