Where To From Here?

by Ursula Paul

  Where To From Here?

  First published in Australia in 2017 by Short Stop Press

  An imprint of A&A Book Publishing.

  This EPUB edition:

  ISBN 9780995443945

  Copyright © Ursula Paul 2017

  Disclaimer:

  This book is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968 and subsequent amendments, no part may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means or process whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publishers.

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  Dedication

  With love and gratitude

  to my sons

  Gerard, Christopher and Michael

  Prologue

  “Let’s run down!”

  “Great idea Eddie! But cars don’t run – and I’m not coming back! So, I’ll have to drive.”

  “Same with me,” added Simon.

  This was the day they had been living for and looking forward to, for three years. Four lives thrown together; four personalities of mixed culture and background; four friends joined by a bond of faith and trust.

  Eddie, tall, athletic, dark skin, was part Aboriginal, with no knowledge of his parentage or heritage, but had been reared by a white Australian family who loved and cared for him as their own.

  Joe, tall, thickset, with curly blonde hair (which he hated) enjoyed sport, especially league, at which he excelled. The youngest of four sons, he was reared on his parents’ sheep station in north-western NSW.

  Julian, often described as ‘tall, dark and handsome’ with a mop of dark hair, was extremely intelligent with a strong sense of humour. He was the younger of two sons to father a doctor, and mother a school deputy principal.

  Simon, short and thin with aquiline features, was an only child. His father, an accountant, possessed a quiet personality, while his mother was extremely set in her own ideas of world and pre-Vatican church theology.

  Within the next two months all four would be ordained priests in the Catholic Church and appointed to a parish within the diocese wherein they had been accepted – Joe within Bathurst diocese; Simon at Armidale diocese; Julian, the archdiocese of Sydney. Eddie, although he had lived most of his life in the diocese of Broken Bay, had chosen, and was accepted, in the diocese of Wilcannia/Forbes.

  Today they had graduated and been farewelled from Manly Theological College. Today they had celebrated with classmates, been given words of wisdom from certain lecturers, and were now leaving behind years of study and discipline. Today exposed no thoughts of what lay ahead, no questions of right or wrong decisions. Today - no questions at all. Just feelings of exhilaration and freedom.

  “What about you, Joe? Are you hitching a ride or running down?”

  “With you Eddie! I’m running down!

  “Okay. Let’s meet at the flags this end of the beach,” Eddie suggested.

  The runners were on their way. Before too long Eddie, a potential Olympic athlete, had streaked away, soon blocks ahead of Joe. By the time Julian and Simon had parked their cars and sprinted to the flag, they were greeted by Eddie, “What took you so long!” Soon after Joe joined them.

  The day rejoiced and celebrated with them – the sun shone brightly, the waves rose and fell in majestic rhythm. Diving and swimming, they followed the rhythm of the sea. Today there were no structures; problems of the past were gone; the future lay behind an opaque curtain. Hours later, as the sun began to set, the celebration continued at the Steyne.

  As they parted, each knew he was closing a chapter in his life. They would meet again at each other’s ordination as the new chapter in each life began. Each would take on individual responsibilities, would move to different parts of the State. Yet each knew that their friendship would remain. Their hopes and dreams for the Church of the future were similar. Vatican II had ended two years previously. A few traditions were gradually changing. Hopes were high for massive changes. It seemed a very exciting time to be within the Church structure. Simon voiced the prayer for all of them, “Lord, help us as we begin our new life in Your Name. Thank you for the friendship we share. May each of us be ‘there’ for any of the others in need.”

  As each breathed a silent “Amen”, none could imagine how relevant that prayer would be.

  Part One

  Eddie

  Chapter One

  Eddie woke earlier than his alarm clock. Morning had broken, but the sky was dark and overcast. The house was silent.

  An hour later he had showered, shaved and was throwing the last of his belongings into his suitcase. For some minutes he had been aware of the silence now broken. He had heard his sister arrive and tantalizing smells from the kitchen told him that his mother was cooking a very special breakfast.

  Bracing himself against his inner pain of parting from these special people who had given him a family, he walked out with a smile and “Good morning. Something smells great!” He noticed the tears in Kate’s eyes as she endeavoured to hide them with a smile and, “Sprucing yourself up, eh, to impress your new Bishop!”

  “Of course!” laughed Eddie. “You know how particular Bishop Levitt is when it comes to clothes!”

  They all laughed, knowing it was often said in Church circles that Mark Levitt cared more about the health of his garden then he did about the clothes he wore.

  Breakfast turned out to be a happy family get-together rather than a last meal. Conversation flowed freely among the four – a few memories, an odd joke, future plans, a family meal each would remember with joy. Time passed very quickly. Eventually Eddie realized he would need to leave soon – he was to meet his new bishop, Mark Levitt, at the Bishop’s House in Forbes mid-afternoon. He also knew that his father and sister should have left for work by now.

  “No hurry!” they chorused.

  “This is not a final farewell, you know.” He looked at each. “We will come and go between here and Bre. And we’ll still do things together. You will always be my family and the special people in my life and I’ll always be very grateful for it.”

  Kate’s arm stole around Eddie’s shoulder while Tony squeezed Margie’s hand as her tears flowed.

  “Okay… Let’s go!” Eddie rose slowly and retrieved his bags from his room. With his father’s help these were soon packed into his car – the VW Beetle his parents had bought for him – his choice.

  They all knew that they would always be a family, that they would often share time together, but they also knew that, for each, life would never be the same. With hugs, prayers, blessings and wishes, Eddie was on his way to the unknown future. As he steered on to the Highway and headed west, he allowed the pent-up tears to flow.

  The clouds began to break and the sun to filter through as he began the climb to the Blue Mountains. Had he made the greatest mistake? Would he be accepted? Accepted? There was no doubt that he was accepted by his family and always had been from earliest memory. Suddenly, earliest memory went back – back even further than belonging to the family he would always call his own. Not often, but occasionally this memory would surface but, invariably, immediately quenched. But today was different. Today was beginning another chapter of his life. What lay ahead he did not know. What lay behind – yes, he was aware of most of his past life.

  Chapter Two

  As he steered around the curves on the road from Kurrajong following the Bells Line with each mile taking him further from any familiar landmark, his mind travelled back to the little, shy four-year old, so cold, huddling benea
th thin blankets, crying into the hard pillow for the mother he never knew. Eventually sleep would move him from the cold, unhappy world in which he lived to the darkness of nothing or the dreams of what ‘could be’.

  How he had landed into this community his memory could not stretch. At any time he allowed himself to go back in time, it was always to this big, tin building with dozens of beds – a building so hot in summer, but so cold in winter. Sleep would always come; the days were long but always filled with more than enough to occupy the mental and physical attributes of any four year old. And yet, even then, he knew he was lucky.

  His settlement was run by a congregation of Sisters – he had never found out exactly what congregation – the majority of whom had come out from England or Ireland. This settlement housed Aboriginal boys and girls under the age of eight, the majority having been forcibly taken from their parents, the minority having been deserted or orphaned.

  The older children often caught brief snippets of information as they passed unobtrusively close to supervisors engaged in serious conversation. Without knowing what it fully meant, they were aware they were saved from sexual abuse that was happening in many other settlements. But they were not saved from hunger, cold, heat and physical and emotional poverty.

  Now that Eddie had opened his mind to the past, so many memories surfaced. The days were long, hard and tiring with barely enough to eat, the fault of which he often wondered when he allowed these memories. Now, more than twenty years later, Eddie imagined these Sisters, who had come out on what they saw as their special mission, had lost their spirit with only enough Government assistance to survive and each year becoming more difficult with more and more children placed in their care. Eddie remembered those Sisters as grim; hard but efficient. He also remembered the young boys and girls, herded into this place as little animals, sad and lost. They were fed and clothed, looked after and educated as well as possible without even books and pencils. But it was a joyless, mechanical and robotic existence.

  Eddie remembered with a smile the day Sister Maria – the new Australian postulant – had taken his class. Without any type of aid she brought the class alive. For a month each class she taught was a delight. The result – each child endeavoured to use any hidden innate ability. There was laughter, music and life. But, suddenly, these classes ceased and Sister Maria disappeared from the settlement. Although Sister Maria had been part of their lives for no more than four weeks, her parting caused devastation. She had opened a chink in a door to a different life – a life open to laughter and song, a life open to love and care. Now that door had closed, very quickly and very silently. The touch of an experience of how different life could be was now buried, buried under the rebirth of the old, dreary, sad life.

  For the next two years nothing changed – not even birthday celebrations to break the endless monotony. The Congregation accepted, and endeavoured to cope with, the ever increasing numbers of young Aboriginal children taken from their parents. Each came with a name only, no birth certificate, no paper work of any kind. The one day of any celebration was Christmas Day. They were allowed a sleep-in until sunrise and, after prayers, each child was given a present. For Eddie the first year had been a paper aeroplane that fell apart the next day. But the second year’s present – a tiny tin car – was still tucked away somewhere.

  On Christmas Day the veil of hopelessness lifted slightly and some of the Sisters smiled with the youngsters. Christmas Day always flew by so quickly and the old life began again the next day.

  Then had come the day he was called into the Superior’s office – not much bigger than a broom cupboard. She was talking quickly to a young couple who looked up as Eddie, searching for a place where he would fit, entered.

  “Come on in Edward. Over here,” Sister Perpetua ordered.

  Eddie obeyed, but wished he could run from this crammed space and from this couple, endeavouring not to show their interest in him.

  “Edward,” began Sister Perpetua, “Mr and Mrs. Walsh would like to meet you. And they would like to have you spend a week at their home.”

  Mixed feelings fought violently within Eddie – a week away from this sad, lonely place faced squarely against his fear of leaving the only shelter he knew.

  “Well, Edward.” Sister Perpetua’s voice was grim. “What do you say?”

  It was obvious she was pushing him to express his gratitude.

  “No!” he whispered among muffled sobs as tears began to flow freely.

  “Edward!” shouted Sister Perpetua. “Where are your manners!”

  “It’s all right Sister.” The lady spoke quietly but firmly. She rose, walked around to where Eddie was cowering, and knelt beside him.

  “It’s okay Eddie.” She spoke softly. “I know this is a big surprise and pretty frightening. We have a little girl – she’s younger than you – and she would love to play with you. If you would like to return any time during the week we would bring you back. But we would love to take you to our place for a little holiday.”

  Eddie still remembered looking up into that face and seeing something special in her eyes.

  As his tears eased Sister Perpetua asked gruffly, “Well, Edward?”

  Eddie remembered looking back at this beautiful lady and whispering, “Yes”.

  Not long after, Eddie, clutching the brown paper bag holding all his earthly possessions, climbed into the back seat of the car and was driven away from the settlement, never to return.

  Every time Eddie travelled back in thought to this point of his life, the questions always popped up… – “Why?” and “How?” Eddie knew that those questions had been born in his subconscious the day he left the settlement with Tony and Margie Walsh. As a growing adolescent they pushed hard to the surface. But after an almost lifetime of happy family life with the Walsh family, he feared the answers and possible repercussions, so banished the questions. But they never banished completely. Eventually he knew he would have to share his deep-seated apprehensions with his family.

  The chance arose not long after Eddie’s seventeenth birthday. It was a Saturday, not unlike any other winter Saturday – fine, but cold, with a southerly wind whipping up dust and sending leaves flying and scuttling.

  Not often Eddie’s weekend school soccer match and Kate’s netball match collided in time. But this weekend they were scheduled just half an hour and, geographically, many miles apart. The decision was quickly made. Margie would drive Kate and Eddie, now on his ‘L’s’, would drive to his field supervised by Tony.

  Eddie’s team won well with Eddie to the fore, as usual. They were driving home with Eddie very ably negotiating highway traffic, when Tony audibly read the poster sign in front of a newsagency, ‘Floods Out West’.

  “Sounds as though the Lachlan must have broken its banks at Forbes,” Tony commented.

  “They were worrying yesterday about that happening and they’ve had much more rain since. I believe the Bell has broken its banks at Wellington, too!”

  His father’s mention of western towns was the catalyst. Eddie knew he could hold back no longer.

  “Dad!”

  Tony sensed the urgency. “Yes, son.”

  “Dad, I need to talk to you right now. There’s a couple of spaces up ahead. I’ll pull in.”

  With the car safely parked, Eddie felt he had lost control of his speech as words poured out.

  “Dad! It’s me! Me, an orphan perhaps! Perhaps not! But an Aboriginal! Why me? To start with, why did you adopt any Aboriginal? Adopting an Aboriginal child is not common now, much less then. Why? And why this Aboriginal child? Don’t get me wrong! I thank God every day – at least – for the wonderful home and family life you have given me. But for years I have been plagued by – why! Why me? I’m sorry but I can’t keep living asking why – and getting no answer. So Dad, please tell me. Why? Why did you adopt this little forsaken Aboriginal boy from a Home miles and miles distant from where you lived, and miles and miles different in culture and – everyth
ing?”

  Minutes passed. Tony looked at his son and answered quietly. “Eddie, I wish I could give you the answer you are looking for. But I can’t. Margie and I started asking ourselves the same question the week after we took you. But you settled in so well, and you became part of our family so easily, that the question for us doesn’t matter. Margie and I don’t care how it happened. We are so grateful that it did happen.”

  Tony could see in his son’s eyes that the big question remained.

  “Okay son. This is how we chose you. Our hopes in our early marriage years was for a fair-sized family. Margie was an only child and I had only one sibling, my brother Ron. And you know the heartache Ron caused. So Margie and I wanted many children. Unfortunately, that was not meant to be. Margie almost lost her life giving birth to Kate. The specialist’s strong advice was that she never conceive again – her chance of surviving another birth – and that of the baby – was almost non-existent. I could not bear the thought of losing Margie and we had our tiny Kate. We both agreed to a hysterectomy. We needed time to heal our wounds of burying our past hopes. How, and exactly when it happened, neither of us is sure. We had lost my Mum a couple of years before and my brother Ron had been killed in a car accident not long after. So my father had his own sorrow. I think Kate was instrumental in helping him overcome his grief. He sold his property a couple of years after Mum died and moved into a unit in the next suburb to us. Margie and I had agreed that we would adopt at least one child as a companion and brother/sister for Kate. But it was Dad who suggested that we think about adopting an Aboriginal child. Both Margie and I were adamantly against the idea at first. Slowly and quietly Dad persuaded us to visit the Children’s Home in the settlement west of Dubbo and not far distant from his former property. Both Margie and I felt you were the child we wanted as soon as we saw you. And you know the rest.”