“Mrs. McClure gave it to me as a gift,” I explained.
Papa’s eyes grew wide. “The gold,” he whispered in a hungry voice. “Eva, the gold…our gold. We must get this land back…we must not let that woman steal our gold.”
“This land legally belongs to Mrs. McClure, Papa. The legal system that surrounds us would support Mrs. McClure in a court of law. If there is gold on this land, Papa, it no longer belongs to us. And before you begin fussing, remember that it was your idea to sell the land and return back to Italy.”
Papa stared at me. “But…I was angry and drunk…my mind was not clear,” he claimed. “I saw Joshua kiss you, Eva, and my thoughts turned to rage…and…we are not very rich…that is why Mr. Jones agreed to pay our fare back to Italy.”
“And what will we do when we arrive in Italy, Papa?” I asked. “We are poor. But do not worry, Joshua will learn to make wine and support us. He is skilled with his gun and will protect us from your enemies too. Perhaps your enemies will not kill us.” I took my right hand and motioned around the kitchen. “On this land, we have food, a home, fresh water, caring friends and good land near the stream to grow grapes. What do we have in Italy? Cruel men who stole our home and nearly killed you when you resisted, Papa.” I sighed. “The damage is done, however. I sold our land and home. We have no choice but to return to Italy, to our own people…our own people who stole our home. We‘ll leave foreigners who protected us and offered us kindness.”
Papa looked down at the fake gold in his hand and then lifted his eyes up to me. His mind soaked in my words and he began reflecting on the horrible day many years back when a group of men stormed into our village and began attacking innocent people, burning down their homes, and forcing them to leave. Then he thought about Joshua and how Joshua how protected me from a dangerous man, risking his own life in return. He sighed. “Eva, Joshua is a good boy, yes?”
“Joshua is a good man, Papa.”
“But could he ever understand our ways?” Papa asked in a soft voice and looked down at the fake gold in his hand. “Eva, your children must carry on our ways, can’t you see that? If you marry a foreigner our ways will be forgotten.”
“No, Papa, our ways will never be forgotten. You will teach my children the old ways.”
“I will find our gold and turn us back to Italy and offer you the life you deserve,” Papa replied and walked outside. He bumped into Maureen. Maureen was carrying a shovel.
“Oh,” Maureen said, “hello, Mr. Fontana. Lovely morning, isn’t it?” she told Papa.
Papa stared at the shovel in Maureen’s hand and then he studied the dirt on the gray work dress she was wearing. His eyes went wide. “My gold.”
Maureen looked past Papa and saw me standing in the doorway. She smiled. “Hello, Eva.”
Before Papa could respond Joshua and Mrs. McClure came riding back up on their horses. Mrs. McClure rode up to Papa and climbed down from her horse. “Mr. Fontana,” she smiled.
Joshua jumped down from his horse and ran over to me. “Eva,” he said in an excited voice, “there really is gold on this land. Ma and me, well, we rode over to the old mine to put some fake gold down. I went into the mine to lay some of the fake gold around…the mine caved in with me.” My eyes went wide with fear. “I’m okay,” Joshua promised. “I got out in the mine in time…but look at this,” he said and reached into pocket and pulled out a large nugget of gold. “Real, gold, Eva.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. McClure smiled at Papa. “We were planning to make you believe the fake gold we were stashing around your land was real in order to make you stay, Papa. But as it turns out, there is actual, real gold on your land.”
Joshua looked at Papa. “Please, Mr. Fontana, don’t take Eva and leave. I’m sorry we tried to fool you, but…I love Eva and I want to marry her.” Tears began to drop from Joshua’s eyes. “Sir, I love your daughter. Can’t you see that?”
Papa stared at Joshua. He stared at the tears streaming from his eyes. And then a miracle happened. Papa walked over to Joshua, wrapped his arms around him and said: “Your tears is the only gold my Eva needs. I can see now that I have been very foolish in thinking my Eva needed to marry a man from the old country. Sometimes this old man forgets to listen to his own heart and lets his stubborn old mind do his thinking for him.”
Mrs. McClure waved me over. I ran out to her. Mrs. McClure placed my hands in Joshua’s hand and then kissed my cheek. “God has worked a beautiful miracle today,” she nearly cried.
“Yes, but I am still without land and a home, now,” Papa sighed. “And the gold now belongs to you.”
“No,” Mrs. McClure told Papa. “Didn’t you hear what my son told you? Papa, we were attempting to trick you into staying here. Eva did not sell your land to me. This land and all the gold on it belongs to you.” Mrs. McClure laughed. “Come on inside your stubborn old mule and have a cup of coffee with me.”
“Well,” Maureen smiled, “I guess there’s no sense in wearing this ugly old dress. I think I’ll go home and change.”
Joshua and I watched Papa walk Mrs. McClure inside the house and Maureen ride off on her horse. I smiled. “What a beautiful painting this has turned out to be. And now, the last few strokes on the brush will unite two hearts together, yes?”
“Yes,” Joshua smiled happily and sweetly kissed me. “But I think the painting is just beginning, Eva. There’s still thousands and thousands of paint strokes left for you to make.”
I raised my left hand and touched Joshua’s face. “Beginning with you,” I said and placed my head on Joshua’s shoulder. Inside the house, Papa let out a loud laugh. Above the house, a beautiful soft blue morning sky winked down at me with sweet joy.
<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>
Even though Papa was a very rich man, he was still stubborn. “I demand an Italian name for my grandson,” he fussed, wearing a fancy gray suit and smoking an expensive cigar.
Mrs. McClure wiped cigar smoke from her face, snatched the cigar out of Papa’s mouth, and tossed it off the front porch into the yard. “My granddaughter will be named after me,” she fussed back.
Papa huffed. “My grandson will have an honorable name,” he griped.
Mr. Jones shook his head and walked away toward the barn. “Those two will be at it for a while,” he said.
Joshua smiled. He reached down and touched my pregnant stomach with his right hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a loving voice.
I let my eyes walk out across the sleepy land. The sky was soft and dark in the east and fiery in the west. The large barn seemed to yawn in the late autumn day, allowing a crisp breeze to play through its open doors; I felt the breeze wonder through my long hair with gentle fingers and then tug at the pink dress covering my stomach. Happiness and peace covered the land with songs of joy. “Glory to God in the Highest,” I smiled, “because God is so wonderful.”
Joshua wrapped his arm around me and walked me off toward the barn, through air that smelled of hay and pumpkin pie, and across a sleepy evening filled with the sounds of two people fussing over the names of their grandchildren. As I walked with Joshua to the barn I looked up into his face and saw a man who my heart was eternally in love with. I found it strange how God had brought me and Papa all the way from Italy to a strange land where my husband was waiting for me. But I knew the heart of God was always the truest gold and created the most beautiful paintings. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Eva,” Joshua smiled happily and softly pulled me closer to him. “Now if we only get Ma and Papa to stop fussing.”
I giggled. “Perhaps it is better if we go to the barn.” Joshua agreed. Oh, what a beautiful life.
The End
Betty’s Journey West
Chapter 1
The Life of the Theater
“Run! Run far from here! And whatever you do, do not come back!” Betty theatrically threw her hands in the air, making wild gestures and trying to draw as much emotion as she could from the judge
s. But, when she looked down to see what their reactions were, her heart sank.
Each of the three men sat stone faced and silent, watching her performance with the most critical eyes she had ever seen. Though she felt her confidence start to wane, Betty did what she always did, and gathered as much courage as she could to keep performing.
She continued for a few more minutes before one of the judges rose and held up his hand.
“Ms. Brown, I think we have seen enough. We thank you for your interest in this position, and ask that you check back at the door in a few days when we announce the cast.” He gave her an emotionless smile, then sat back down in his seat. Betty stood for a moment, trying to decide what to say. She didn’t know if she had impressed them or not, but she didn’t think him ending her performance early was a good sign.
“Can you give me any indication as to what my chances are?” she asked, and one of the other men cleared his throat.
“Unfortunately, Ms. Brown, we are unable to do so, as there are several others who are waiting to try out for the very same part. Thank you for your interest in the position, but as Mr. Meyer has just stated, you are going to have to check back with us later. Next!” He motioned for her to walk off the stage with one hand, while with the other he waived one of the other actresses onto the set.
Betty stood for a moment, looking helplessly from one judge to the next, but she could see that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with them, and with a sigh, she bent over and picked up her hat, then walked off the stage.
“Well I thought that I did a fine job. That part is a difficult one to master and I played it beautifully,” Betty said aloud to herself as she walked out of the theater. The sunlight momentarily blinded her as she stepped out of the dark hall, but she was used to that.
Betty spent as much time as she could at the theater. She loved performing in front of audiences and hearing them react to her scenes. She loved the sound of the applause at the close of the play, and she loved the eager chatter from all the different cast members as they made ready to get on with the show. Yet, in spite of how much she loved the theater and performing arts, she found it increasingly difficult to land any positions in a cast.
Sure, she had held positions before, but with more and more people becoming involved in the theater, competition for positions in the play had become much tighter, and Betty had never had the privilege of being taught how to act in any formal schools.
She was an orphan, and had been since she was only nine years old. Though she had spent much of her life growing up on the streets and living off the kindness of strangers, she had not let her situation stop her from going into the theater as much as she could. She had gotten her first position in a play at fourteen years of age, then another position later that same year.
But that was three years ago. Now, many other young men and women were trying their hand at the theater, and many of them were coming from backgrounds that were more privileged than Betty’s. Though she did her best to master the parts she tried out for, she simply did not have the same level of training or experience that others did, and time and time again she was looked over in favor of someone else.
Betty put her wide brimmed hat on her head and placed her hands in the pockets of her skirt. She felt dust creep into her shoe through the hole that was in the toe, and she kicked her foot to try to get it out, but to no avail. She sighed as she continued to walk up the street, looking for somewhere she could stay for the night.
Betty didn’t mind the fact that she had to spend most nights on the street. New York offered plenty of porches and staircases she could hide under, and if she was lucky, a stranger may take pity on her and give her something to eat. Betty disliked stealing, but she did have to admit that there were times that the went through with it when she had to.
There were times when she simply did not have the money to pay for what she needed, and she felt she had no choice. After all, a girl does have to eat, and when no one would hire her for a position in the theater or cast her in the play itself, she would grow desperate in her decisions. Betty finally chose a staircase leading up to an old restaurant.
Sliding under the wooden panels, she watched the feet of men and women who were walking up and down the stairs coming in and out of the restaurant. For a minute, Betty closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to have enough money to eat in such a fine place if one chose, but she quickly shook her head to get the thought out of her mind.
Thinking about food would make her hungry.
Chapter 2
The Moment of Truth
Betty lifted her skirts as she ran through the dusty streets, doing her best not to trip over herself. The dress she wore was too long for her petite and slender frame, and when she let it fall to its full length it dragged on the ground. Normally, she didn’t mind this but when she was in a hurry, it was very inconvenient.
She could feel dust slip into her shoe once again, and though she sighed in exasperation, she ignored the feeling as best as she could. She had found bits of cloth beneath the staircase she had been sleeping under the previous few nights, and had done her best to patch up the hole in her shoe, but without anything to really hold it in place, it kept coming loose.
Eventually, Betty gave up and simply let the hole be. She hoped one day she would be able to find another pair of shoes, or perhaps that someone would be kind enough to give her some out of the goodness of their heart. Betty could see the crowd gathered at the door of the theater before she reached it herself, but it didn’t deter her.
She pushed her way through the crowd, apologizing as she bumped into people of all shapes and sizes. Betty felt confident she had gotten the part, and she was eager to see her name on the list of cast members. After all, of all the young women gathered in front of the door, Betty was the only one with truly red hair, meaning she wouldn’t have to wear a wig to play the part of the princess.
She knew that the theater had wigs, but she also knew that it was not uncommon to have an advantage over others trying out for the position based on having natural looks alone. She tried to reach the door, but in spite of her pushing and pulling her way through the crowd, she found that those gathered at the door itself simply would not get out of her way.
“Excuse me! Excuse me! Betty Brown! I’m trying to see if my name is on the list! Excuse me!” she shouted as she tried to pry her way through, but no one in the crowd would listen, as each person was eagerly checking for their own name among the cast. Betty finally sighed and crossed her arms, waiting for her turn to get closer to the door with the paper posted on it.
She could see men and women check the list, and some looked happy and triumphant as they walked way, while others shook their heads in anger or disappointment. At long last, a path cleared enough for Betty to push her way through, and she could see the list for herself.
“Is this in any kind of order?” she asked the man who was standing next to her. He looked down at her with an inquisitive look on his face, and she tried to explain further.
“You know, like who got the lead parts or based on how our names are spelled. Never mind.” She gave up when she could see that the man had no idea what she was talking about, and she turned her focus back to the paper itself. Immediately, she could see that it was just a list of names and that there was no true order to it, so she set her jaw and dutifully read her way through the list.
Betty then realized why so many people took so long to see whether they got the part. Not only where the names listed randomly, but the judge’s handwriting was difficult to decipher, making it even harder for her to tell for sure if her name was on the list or not. As she made her way down the page, Betty could feel her heart sinking inside her. When she read the name of the girl who got the part she had auditioned for, Betty turned away and shook her head.
She didn’t bother reading the rest of the list, knowing that she wouldn’t have been given a secondary part in the play. She shoved her hands in her pockets, lettin
g her lengthy skirts drag on the ground. She stepped on them every now and then, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have anyone to impress anymore, so let them get dirty.
It didn’t matter.
The sun shone brightly once again, and Betty watched as many of the women pulled their bonnets over the faces, doing their best to stay out of the rays. After all, everyone knew that the sun caused freckles, and no one wanted to have those dots all over their face.
Betty crossed her eyes, looking at the freckles that dotted her nose. She knew she had a lot of freckles, but then, so did many girls with red hair. She hadn’t minded them before, but now she wondered if it were her freckles that made it so difficult for her to get any parts in the plays. When she was a child, they were endearing, and many women would stop to admire how cute she was.
But now that she was a grown woman, Betty knew that many other women pitied her because of them, assuming that she had only acquired them due to a life that was spent too much in the sun. Betty kicked can lying in her way, sending it to the other side of the street. She didn’t want to admit to herself how difficult of a position she was in, or how badly she needed to make a change.
Yet Betty also knew that all the denial in the world couldn’t change the facts. She had to find a job, and soon.
Chapter 3
The Flier on the Wall
Betty bit into the apple she had in her hand. She had nonchalantly swiped it from a cart as she passed by, and though she had a twinge of guilt in her heart as she committed the action, she was glad now that she had done it, though it did reduce her to being a petty thief.
She hadn’t eaten since the day before, when a kind gentleman had given her the leftovers he had taken from the restaurant with him. It hadn’t been much, but it had been enough to see her through the night and until the apple she now held in her hand. As she walked along the street, she tried to decide what to do.
The Thanksgiving Day Bride: Mail Order Bride Novels Page 15
