by Sarah Pawley
Dear God, forgive me for these sins, she said in silence. As she thought of it, the bravery that had started her going seemed to flee. It seemed that all of her plotting and preparations would be for nothing if she couldn't even manage a simple train ticket, so now, what was she to do?
All through the afternoon she fought a battle with herself, torn between self-preservation and the unbreakable bond she had for her family. It didn't matter what they did to her. Whether she stayed or went, they were all a part of her, and they would be until she drew her last breath. There had to be another way, but for the moment, it was beyond her grasp.
"Lord, help me," she muttered out loud, bending her head in frustration.
A moment later, she heard the dogs barking from the front yard. She took out her watch, and seeing that it was after four o’clock, she realized it must have been her father and brothers coming home. She felt a sharp pull in her heart when she realized that the five o'clock hour was fast approaching. If she was going to act, it would have to be soon, come hell or high water.
She had just picked up her basket of beans when her mother called to her from the back porch.
"Gracie Ellen, come on in here!”
There was something unsettling in her mother's tone. When Grace slowly made her way to the kitchen, she realized then what that strange tone was for. Mr. Langdon sat at one end of the table, his face and clothes still dusted with black soot. Mrs. Langdon sat down beside him, and from the look on her mother's face, Grace realized that something was not right. They had plotted something for her…she just knew they had…and she was almost afraid to hear them speak. He pulled out a chair, pointing her to it.
"Sit down Gracie.”
She did, but was prepared in an instant to jump up if need be, the fight or flight response throbbing strong in her veins. Her father stood over her, scowling.
"You're the only girl. So by God, we’re going to do what we have to do for you. We ain’t gonna be around forever, and we've got to be sure you’re tended to."
He paused, looking at Rachel, who had her eyes fixed on the table before her. Both avoided their daughter's eyes. And at last he came to his point.
"I've talked to Charlie, and I told him you'd marry him."
Without thought she bolted up, fear driving her.
“No I won’t! I won’t marry that man!”
Her arm was suddenly snatched in a vise-like grip. Her father pushed his face up close to hers, his eyes black with rage.
"What did you just say to me?"
She cried out again. "I said no!" Madness had gripped her, splintering open a shell of submission. Even as her father took her other arm, pinning her painfully with both his hands, she did not relent. Something within her had been released, and it made her wild. "I won’t be bullied into anything!"
Her father’s face twisted with anger.
“You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you to!”
She felt herself being shaken like a ragdoll…but she heard her own voice, screaming like one possessed.
"No I won’t!"
A violent backhand to the cheek knocked her down to the floor…and for several moments she lay there, stunned by the blow. She had never been hit in the face in her life. She’d been switched on the back, and on the legs, but she’d never been struck in the face. The shock of it made her ears ring. Her eye felt like it might burst from pain, and for many moments she remained on the floor, paralyzed.
But a rebellion started to rise inside of her, and the voice of her literary mentor came to her, wise and powerful.
…I was conscious that a moment's mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties, and like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved to go all lengths...
Her mother had come to her side, trying in a useless way to comfort her. But suddenly she pushed those hands away and ran, dashing into her room and slamming the door behind her as hard as she could. She knew it would infuriate her father, but even if it was only for a moment, she felt delightful revenge in the sound of his fist pounding on the locked door, unable to get in.
"You open this door or I'll bust it down!"
The moment of victory had passed. She knew he meant what he said. When he got past that door, he would drag her out of the house and switch her to within an inch of her life.
There was only one thing to do now.
Grabbing up her flour sack, she rushed to the open window as her father started ramming the door with his shoulder. She slipped out and hit the ground running, tearing across the corn patch and down the hill toward the spring. Finding the spot at the cliff bottom, she dug into the ground like an animal tearing up earth, and at last found one of the mason jars filled with money. She muttered to herself as she stuffed the bills in her pocket.
"God, forgive me for this. Don't condemn me to an eternity in hell.”
She threw down the jar, rushing up the other side of the hill away from the spring. Moments later she was in the woods, running again as fast as her legs could carry her, toward the distant and lonesome sound of a train's whistle.
* * * * *
She clutched her bag closely. Looking down, she saw her own hands trembling. It was beyond her control…but she knew where it came from, without a doubt. The same terror gripped her senses and made her heart hammer against her ribs. For a moment, she wondered if she might be insane for doing all of this. With trembling fingers she reached up and clutched the little silver cross that hung around her neck, praying.
"Dear Lord, see me through this.”
She jumped when the train whistle suddenly blew. A moment later the train began to move and she nearly jumped up, ready to cry out for them to stop and let her out. She could still go home… there was still a chance to go back and make everything right. But something kept her from it.
I could not turn, nor retrace one step. God must have lead me on, she recited in her head.
From those words, she felt a deep faith and power that calmed her a bit.
A higher power was leading her, she was certain of that. How else could she have gotten this far?
She sat back in her seat, watching out the window as the land swept by, and she realized that with every passing moment, she was being drawn farther and farther away from everything she knew in the world. It wasn't long before she knew that the moment of return had gone by, and it became a matter not of what she had left behind, but of what was to be found ahead.
When she thought of how she'd gotten here, on this train, it almost made her laugh. She had stopped in the woods and thrown on the trousers, tucking the hem of her dress into the waist. She'd twisted her braid up and tucked it under the hat, put on the boots, and finally put on the glasses. At the depot she had been terrified of discovery, but something had moved her forward anyway, right up to the window where she nervously asked for a ticket to Chicago. She put her money down on the counter, and waited with quaking nerves to see what would come about.
And then, it was over and done with.
The agent took her payment, handed her the ticket, and that was that. He hardly even looked at her, probably because he was busy talking on the phone. Maybe it was the distraction, or just pure luck. Whatever the case, there had not been the slightest of trouble, and now, here she sat.
Strange, how that small part of her quest had been so quick and easy, when the idea of it had given her such trouble. She might have thought it over a little more, but there were other matters on her mind now. Rifling through her meager possessions, she found one of her books…a copy of Pride and Prejudice. She opened it to the middle, where there rested a small envelope. She looked at its front and read the address…
Mr. and Mrs. John Langdon
5739 Lincoln Avenue
Lincoln Park, IL
She had no real idea where Lincoln Park was or just how to get there. She had seen it on a map many times before. She’d pointed it out to herself, so she knew it was within the city limits of Chicago. Her imagination had gone wild, thin
king of what it must be like to go there. But now she wondered…how on earth she was going to find it out there in the real world?
These details were driving her crazy, and she realized she had two choices. She could either sit there, continuing with this madness…or she could push the thoughts aside and think of other thing. She chose the latter of the two.
As she looked out the window, she thought of Jack and Alice. What would they think when she suddenly showed up at their front door?
She hadn't written to them. There just hadn't been time, as fast as all this had happened. When she suddenly appeared out of the blue, would they welcome her? For a moment she had her doubts. But then she shook her head at her silly fears. Jack and Alice had always loved her. They had often invited her to come and stay with them for the summer, but that had been impossible. Her folks would never have allowed it, as opposed as they were to Jack and Alice as a married couple. Besides that, they wouldn't have let her take a trip anywhere, especially by herself. And so, she had always written back and politely declined. She smiled now as she thought of what their faces might look like when she arrived. Suddenly, a different kind of anxiety came over her. One of excitement, of hope…and wonder at what the future held in store.
* * * * *
She was nervous about leaving her seat, for fear that someone might take it from her. So she sat quietly in her place all through the afternoon, reading to pass the time. But her body had its natural requirements, and eventually, they became quite demanding. She felt like a fool not knowing what to do, but despite her embarrassment, she forced herself to seek help from the porter as he passed by. Her voice was small.
"Sir," she said, "Will the train leave without me if I step outside for a minute?"
He smiled kindly and shook his head. "No Miss, not if you are quick. You have a few minutes before the next departure."
She rose and stretched, and with much caution, she moved to the door and stepped down to the ground. The porter stepped down a moment later to tend to something, and though she was ashamed to ask the question in her head, she could not help herself.
“Is there a place where I can go...” She stopped mid-sentence, mortified. “Is there a..."
She stopped again, and found she couldn't utter another word. But the gentleman seemed somehow to read her mind, and he spoke kindly.
"There is a lavatory on the train, Miss. It's in the last car. You'll see the small door when you get back there."
Her eyes widened in surprise. She thanked the man, and went in search of what she called, in her head, an indoor outhouse. It was little more than a wooden bench with a hole in the bottom, and it served its purpose. There was even a little wash stand with soap and a bucket of water to wash her hands. As primitive as it would have been to some, she was amazed that such a thing existed. She wondered what happened when the train was moving, but right away she chastised herself for such a dirty thought. The train whistle blew, and the cars began moving as she made her way back to her seat.
As she sat back down, another basic urge began to rumble through her - in her stomach. She hadn't eaten anything since noon, for she'd run off before supper, and now her hunger was quite strong. But what could she do? She'd heard of dining cars, and she was sure there was one on this train, but she was completely ignorant of how to get there. Besides, there would probably be ladies and gentleman travelers there, and they would not want to see a poor little country girl like her. So she sat in her seat, the car dim now with the night outside, and only a small light shining above the doorway. She leaned against the window and tried to rest, for now she found herself getting sleepy as well as hungry. She was just about to doze off when the porter came by, and she jumped nervously when he stopped close to her. She looked up at him as he reached out to her, handing her a blanket.
"This will keep you warm for the night. And I thought you might be hungry as well, so I brought you something from the store room." He handed her an apple, and she smiled gratefully at him.
"God bless you, sir," she said sweetly.
He nodded and smiled back.
"It's just part of my job, Miss. If you need anything else, just let me know."
He moved quietly away, leaving her alone, and after savoring the sweet taste of her little meal, she pulled the blanket over herself and let the swaying of the train lull her to sleep.
Chapter 5
“A Journey”
The sun shined against her eyes. She opened them slowly, blinking against the harsh light of day. Then, looking out the window, her eyes widened in awe at the new world before her.
It was the third day of her journey now. So far, everything she’d seen outside her window had been somewhat familiar. High rolling green hills, low lying valleys…thick clusters of dark woods. But this morning brought a very great change.
She had never seen such flat plains…vast stretches of land crowded with row upon row of young, bright green corn stalks and mounds of soybeans. The fields seemed to go on forever, reaching out toward a vast expanse of blue horizon. The land was only broken here and there by a bright red barn or a pretty white farmhouse. She'd never seen such wide open spaces. Though she had lived her whole life on a farm, this was nothing at all like the cropland back home.
The porter walked by, bidding her good morning as he went. He was such a kind man, bringing her fruit to keep her from going hungry, and inquiring after her to see if she needed anything. When they’d changed trains the day before, he’d helped her along, kind gentleman that he was. This morning, she asked only a question of him.
"Sir, where are we now?"
He smiled politely. "We've just come into Illinois, Miss. We'll be in Chicago by this afternoon."
Jack had once described all of this to her in a letter. But until now, she had never been able to quite picture it. As the hours went by she kept watching through the window, seeing how things gradually changed from open farmland to small towns, and then to little villages. There were other changes around her that she didn't much notice, like the number of passengers that grew around her with each stop. She was too busy gazing out the window to pay them much attention. Soon the buildings began to be closer and closer together, and they began to rise up in height until some of the structures cast shadows on the windows, forcing her to crane her neck up so she could see the roof tops.
Her mouth gaped at everything she saw. She was so mesmerized that when the train was suddenly thrown into darkness, she let out a cry of surprise. It came to her that they had gone into a tunnel. The dimness was so eerie that a shiver ran up her spine. Moments later, there came a strange, almost ethereal light. The train began to slow, and then with a crying of the brakes, it came to a stop…and the porter called out.
"Chicago, Union Station!"
Her heart did a summersault as she realized that this was the end of the line. She had arrived. Suddenly, she was afraid to get out. The car had become almost comfortable…secure, in its way. It had kept the unfamiliar world out, for a time. But now she had to go and face it. Even the porter, who had been so good to her, could be of no help now. So she took a deep breath, picked up her bag, and rose to her feet. She made her way to the door, following the other passengers out. And as she stood in the doorway of the car, the shock of reality hit her full force.
Good heavens, what have I gotten myself into?
She stepped down to a long and wide cement walkway. Looking up, she saw the source of the soft white light. It came from a frosted glass ceiling, and she stood staring at it for several moments, captured by its beauty. Turning her eyes from it, she watched the movement of passengers all around her…and there were so many people to see. Everywhere there were moving bodies, more people in one place than she'd ever seen in her life, all moving to and fro. And what strange, fascinating people they were to watch.
The gentlemen were dashing, some wearing banded straw hats…others with handsome fedoras. Their clothing looked like the kind she’d only seen on Sunday mornings. There w
ere no overalls or tattered shirts here. The men wore neat looking slacks and fine button up shirts, some covered with thin vests and others with suspenders. How tidy the gentlemen were…most of them clean shaven, though some wore a small mustache. But not one of them had a scraggly face.
Even their shoes…not mud-encrusted boots, but fine leather loafers…were perfect, and she could see why. Nearby, there was a boy kneeling down with a rag in his hand, buffing the extended foot of a man reading a newspaper…and she smiled.
No wonder their shoes shine so brightly, she thought. She’d never seen anything like it.
If the men were incredible to her amazed eyes, the ladies were even more so. From head to toe, the women were like a flock of brightly feathered birds…so elegant, so colorful. They seemed to preen for all who might be watching. Some had cute little rounded hats that came down low over their foreheads. Other hats were wide-brimmed and decorated with ribbons or feathers. The dresses were of the brightest colors and loveliest fabrics, many of the collars trimmed with fur or beads. Nearly every female neck was festooned with a long strand of pearls, most of which hung down to the waist. The ladies clomped by in thick-heeled, buckled shoes of various colors, but it was their bare knees that stunned her the most. In all of her life she’d never seen such high hemlines, falling just above the knee itself and exposing a scandalous amount of stocking clad leg.
