The Forgotten Home Child

by Genevieve Graham

  Winny’s mouth was suddenly dry. “Nursing school would be a dream come true for me, Mistress, but I am indentured to you until the age of twenty-one.”

  “I am aware of that. However, I believe it is within my rights to grant you this.”

  Tears sprang to Winny’s eyes and blurred her mistress’s face. “Thank you.”

  But Winny’s joy was tinged with sadness. As much as she wanted to follow her dream, she knew in her heart that she couldn’t go. Mary was here, and Winny would never leave her behind. Winny was all Mary had left. And Winny had made her a promise. Winny never broke promises.

  nineteen JACK

  Weeks passed with no reply from Barnardo’s about Mary and Winny. Every day Jack became more convinced that the girls were lost to him forever.

  “We gotta believe they’re all right,” Edward said. “That’s all we can do.”

  Jack knew it hurt Edward, not knowing where Mary was, but at least he still had his brother. More and more, recently, the two of them had begun to talk about the future, and Jack experienced a new and bitter sense of envy. Edward was learning from Dr. Cogan and had decided to attend school in the fall when he turned eighteen. Cecil, strong and sunburned but happy with this new life, had found purpose running the Cogans’ farm. He’d decided to stay on after his indenture was over in another year.

  Jack had no idea what he wanted to do. As spring melted the snow and began to warm the fields, resentment grew inside him like weeds, rooted in a garden of grief and guilt that kept him up at night. He withdrew from his friends, choosing instead to spend his days walking the length of the fields.

  On Jack’s eighteenth birthday, a smiling Mrs. Cogan carried a cake to the dining room table and set it before him. It was another first. None of the boys had ever seen a birthday cake before.

  “There you go,” she said, delighted to have surprised him. “Blow out all the candles!”

  When the little flames were extinguished, Mrs. Cogan sliced the dessert and passed portions to everyone. It was a night for celebration, and Jack listened to every note of his friends’ laughter, memorizing the sounds of their voices. Tonight his heart twisted with regret, and yet it felt lighter than it had in a long time. He finally knew what he must do.

  Later that evening as the boys prepared to turn in for the night, Jack told them he had something to say.

  “I gotta leave,” he said quietly, watching the flickering lamp on the bedside table. “I feel trapped here.”

  The brothers exchanged a glance.

  “How can you feel trapped in all this space?” Edward asked. “We’re finally free.”

  “Free from what? What am I supposed to do with all this freedom? It’s good you’ve both figured things out for yourselves, but I haven’t. I gotta get out of here, figure out who I am. And I gotta find Mary. You know that. I promised her.”

  “Where you gonna go?” Cecil asked.

  “I’ll find work somewhere,” he said. “I’ll see what happens. All I know is I can’t stay here.”

  “Won’t be the same without you,” Cecil said.

  “Hasn’t been the same for a long time,” he replied bitterly.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.”

  Edward was watching, his gaze soft with sympathy. “If they’re out there,” he finally said, “you’ll find them.”

  In the morning, Jack thanked the Cogans for everything and told them he was leaving. They were sorry, but they didn’t stand in his way. Dr. Cogan suggested a sawmill in Goderich, a couple hours’ train ride away. He’d heard they were hiring—one of the few places with jobs these days.

  With Goderich in mind, Jack loaded up his old trunk, tucking in the food Mrs. Cogan made him for the trip. Before the five of them squeezed into the doctor’s car and headed toward the train station, he walked to the local churchyard and said goodbye to Quinn for what he knew would be the last time.

  At the station, the Cogans bid Jack farewell then waited in the car for the boys to say their goodbyes. It felt strange, standing there on the platform with his best friends in the world, studying their faces and fearing a time when he’d no longer know them by heart. It hadn’t been that long ago that they’d been standing here with Quinn, nervous but excited about the next chapter, unsure of what was to come next. So much and so little had changed since then, and Jack couldn’t help questioning everything he was doing. Like right now. He was about to abandon his only friends with the vague hope of finding the others, and the truth was he could end up with no one at all.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, seeing the pain in their eyes.

  Edward shook his head. “No, mate, you do what you have to do. We will too.” He paused and held out his hand. “It’s been good knowing you, Jack.”

  “Hey, it don’t have to be like that,” Cecil said, pushing Edward’s hand away. “It’s not like we’re at a funeral. You know where we are now. We’ll see you again.”

  Jack reached out an arm and held Cecil a moment, then he did the same with Edward. “Then we won’t say goodbye.”

  “That’s right,” Cecil said gruffly.

  Edward wiped his eyes. “Best of luck to you out there, mate,” he said. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. Give Mary and Winny a hug for us, won’t you?”

  “You know I will.”

  He stepped onto the train and found a seat away from other people. Through the window, he watched his friends, their expressions taut with forced smiles, and as the wheels began to turn, he pressed his palm against the glass. The brothers raised their hands in farewell.

  Moments later, the train rolled out of the station and Jack was on his way. The fields blurring past his window were like the ones he’d known and worked, but everything looked different now that he was on his own. Canada was a very big place. Where would he go? Who might he become?

  * * *

  Hours later he got off the train and followed the signs to the sawmill. At the door to the office, he took a breath for courage, combed his hair back with his fingers, then entered. The man at the desk was leaning over a stack of paperwork, a cigar smoking in one hand, but he looked up when Jack walked in.

  “You looking for work?” he asked, studying Jack.

  Jack nodded.

  The big man’s cheeks sucked in as he inhaled the cigar, and smoke puffed back out. “You ever done this kinda work before?”

  “No, sir. But I’m a fast learner.”

  At Jack’s response, the man’s eyes hardened. “Don’t you read?”

  Jack glanced around, wondering what he’d missed. “I do. Why?”

  The man emerged from behind the desk with surprising speed and jabbed his cigar toward the door. “Take a good look at the sign out there. We got barely enough jobs for our own men. We don’t give work to foreign bums. Now get outta here.” He took a step towards Jack. “Now.”

  Jack staggered outside, confused, then he saw it: a large white sign with bold black lettering that said “No Englanders.”

  Anger flared in his chest and he looked over at the man, who had followed him out. “I have as much right to be here as anyone else,” he said.

  “Get back on a boat, limey. Go back where you belong.”

  A few men were gathering, watching the scene unfold, and their hostile expressions were unmistakable. Jack was more than ready for a fight, but he figured it’d be wise to stick to just one opponent at a time. Swallowing his pride, he turned and headed back toward the main street of Goderich.

  Maybe this had all been a big mistake. Right now he could be with Edward and Cecil, living in a place where he was wanted. Where he didn’t have insults shoved down his throat. But there was no point in thinking about that. He couldn’t go back. Not now. So he followed the first railway track he saw and hoped the next town over would be more welcoming.

  But it wasn’t. When he inquired about the HELP WANTED sign in a shop window, the shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously and said, “We’re not hiring anyone who sound
s like you.”

  With no other options, he headed back out along the railway tracks, and with every step his mood plummeted further. When a train rumbled behind him, making the earth vibrate beneath his feet, he wondered, for a split second, what it would be like to just stand there and let it hit him. He’d hold his arms out and close his eyes, and all his troubles would be over in an instant. But then he remembered Mary, and he stepped off the tracks. He’d come too far to give up now.

  As the big black engine surged past, he spotted a number of shabbily dressed men sitting inside one of the boxcars. Some even lay on top of the cars, their arms draped comfortably over the short rails, and he couldn’t help wondering where they were headed. Had they found work? Because if they had, Jack didn’t want to miss out. He picked up his pace, hoping to catch up to the train at the next station, but it was farther than he’d thought. By the time he got there, the train had already left again.

  It was easy to get defeated out here, he thought. Easy to figure the great big world was against him when he was in the middle of nowhere, all by himself. And now that night had begun to fall, things looked even more bleak. I chose to leave, he reminded himself. I can’t give up now. He kept on walking until it was too dark to see much, then he started searching for some place out of the way to sleep. Eventually he spotted a tree with a wide trunk and low-hanging branches, just far enough off the tracks that he felt safe. He curled up beneath it, using his trunk as a pillow, planning to start again at first light.

  He was just drifting off when a shuffling in the long grass nearby shot adrenaline through him. Jack leapt to his feet, fists at the ready.

  “Hand over the trunk,” a voice growled. He must have followed him from the tracks.

  The moonlight reflected off something in the man’s hand. He was holding a knife, Jack realized.

  “Ain’t nothing in there you’d like,” Jack said, his eyes on the blade.

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Hand it over.”

  The trunk was all Jack had left in the world, and he wasn’t about to give it away. “Come and get it.”

  Narrowed eyes wary, the man sidled closer. He briefly looked away when he reached for the trunk, and Jack seized the moment. He lunged for the knife, knocking it out of the other man’s hand and onto the grass by his feet, then he kicked the weapon away and heard it land somewhere in the darkness, out of reach. In the same movement, he picked up his trunk and swung it, slamming the man across the head and sending him staggering back. Trunk securely in hand, Jack sprinted into the darkness, not slowing to a walk until he was sure he wasn’t being followed. From there, he navigated his way back to the tracks and kept to them until the sun began to rise.

  At the next station, he came upon a group of four young, ragged men putting out a small fire and packing up a few belongings. They looked like they were just getting ready to break camp.

  “I ain’t here to fight,” he said right out, holding his arms up and hoping luck might be on his side for once. He couldn’t take on all four of them. “I’m tired and hungry, and all I want is for someone to tell me what a fella’s gotta do to get on the next train.”

  A lanky man who looked to be the leader slicked a hand over his short brown hair then took a long stride toward Jack. “What you got in the trunk?”

  “Trousers and a shirt. That’s most of it.”

  “Got food?”

  “If I had food, I wouldn’t be hungry.”

  The man crossed his arms. “You gonna open that trunk and prove it?”

  Jack hesitated, then he crouched and undid the latches. The man squatted beside him and rifled through the contents of the trunk. “You don’t even got a spare pair of shoes?”

  “I don’t.”

  “That’s a shame. Mine are wearing thin.” The man eyed him from top to toes. “If you’re out here, you’re at the end of your rope. Am I right?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Most folks out here won’t help you, especially when they hear that accent of yours. But I ain’t that kinda guy. Someone helped me once, and for his sake, I’ll take you along for a ride, show you how it’s done. What’s your name, son?”

  “Jack Miller.”

  “Well, Jack, I’m Jimmy Salo.” He introduced the other three men with him, said they were heading west. Jimmy himself was going northeast to Kitchener, and he said he’d take Jack along if he was so inclined.

  “Just tell me what I gotta do,” Jack said.

  “First thing you wanna do is get rid of that trunk of yours. Nobody carries something that bulky. I saw a couple of shirts in there, didn’t I? Take one out, dump everything on it, then wrap it into a bundle.” Jimmy jabbed a thumb at his own earthly possessions, hanging in a sack at the end of a long stick he carried over his shoulder. “Much easier.”

  Jack did as he suggested then looked down at his empty trunk, the last thing he had from Barnardo’s. Feeling strangely free, he picked it up and hurled it off into the grass beyond the tracks, a smile growing across his face. This was a whole new life out here. He didn’t need to carry that piece of himself anymore.

  Jimmy was as good as his word. As they walked, he educated Jack on the way the rails worked, warning him of the dangers and rattling off names of men who hadn’t been cautious enough. Jimmy said that once in a while, if he was real careful and it was real late at night, he might catch a freight train in the yard, but most of the time Jack would have to catch it on the run, as it built speed coming out of the station.

  “You gotta watch out for the bulls,” he said. “Them fellas are the police of the railway, and their job is to make sure not one of us is riding for free. I’ll tell ya, I’ve seen them do some pretty cruel things. You look strong, but that don’t matter. You’ll want to stay away from them.”

  A mechanical squeal shrieked over the thunder of an engine, interrupting his lesson, and Jimmy looked down the tracks, past Jack. “All right, Jack. Here we go. If you get it right this first time, I won’t worry about you again. If you don’t, I won’t have to.”

  Jack followed his gaze, saw the train rolling toward them, a plume of smoke trailing behind.

  “When it gets here, you gotta run the same speed as the train’s going, you see? Right away, pick a handle you want and grab for it. There’s one on either side of the ladder. When you got a good grip, you kind of swing yourself around so you can grab the second handle, but don’t jump onto the ladder until you have both hands holding on tight. You hear me?”

  “I hear you,” Jack said, his heart thundering, his eyes on the approaching beast.

  Jimmy slapped him on the back and started to jog. “All right then. See you up top!”

  The engine chugged past, going faster and faster, the metal wheels clacking and rumbling while the whistle kept on blowing, and Jack’s blood pounded louder than all of it. He began to run, putting all his energy into matching the train’s speed, then he wrapped his hand around the cold, hard steel of a handle and held on tight. It felt like the train was tearing his shoulder from its socket, so he pumped his legs as fast as he could and reached for the next handle, then he launched himself onto the ladder just as Jimmy had said. Suddenly he was standing on the side of a train, the wind shoving at him, the tracks rattling beneath, and the thrill of the ride racing through his veins. Rung by rung he climbed to the top, where Jimmy and some of his cohorts cheered his arrival, then they all settled back to enjoy the ride. When they eventually reached Kitchener, Jimmy saluted him before leaping off. Jack had no destination in mind, so he just continued on.

  Riding the rails was like nothing Jack could have imagined. The wind in his hair, the rocking, jostling train speeding along to somewhere unknown, and the men who, like him, couldn’t find work and had left their families behind—it all became a salve to his miserable soul. Unless the bulls came along, swinging their sticks to force them off, he could just lie back and let himself drift. He wondered what Mary would have thought. She probably wouldn’t enjoy the lack of order, but
Edward and Cecil would have loved the adventure. And Winny? She would have been all right with it as long as she had her friends around her. And how the five of them would have laughed, just being together up there. I’d give the world, he thought, just to have them all with me right now.

  twenty WINNY

  The cicada-screeching heat of summer was upon them, and yet Winny smiled as she leaned over the beans, snapping them off their vines and dropping them into her basket. She’d been to visit Mary last Sunday, and she had been overjoyed to see the healthy smile on her friend’s face and the meat on her bones. Just as she’d been promised, Master Renfrew had kept his distance, and Mistress Renfrew had even given Mary a new dress.

  “She still says she don’t know where my baby is,” Mary had said. “I was sure she was lying to me before, but I believe she’s telling the truth now.”

  “We’ll find him, Mary. Somehow we will.”

  “We will,” Mary agreed. “I know we will. Now tell me what’s happening where you live.”

  Winny told her about the three new Home Boys who had just arrived at the farm. Like her when she’d first arrived, they knew nothing about working on a farm, but David was teaching them, and they were being treated well. Ever since Mistress Adams had suggested nursing school to Winny, no one had raised a hand to any of the Adamses’ Home Children. Not even to the new boys.

  “Tell me about school,” Mary said. “How is Charlotte doing?”

  Winny ached to tell her everything about her studies, how excited she was with the lessons she was getting from Miss Burton, even in the summertime. But Winny still hadn’t said a word to Mary about nursing school. She had already decided what she needed to do, and the subject could only cause them both pain. Mary could not leave the Renfrew farm for four more years, and Winny would never leave Mary behind. She knew Mary wouldn’t allow her to deny herself such an amazing opportunity, but Winny’s mind was made up: she just hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to tell Mistress Adams her decision.