Jeremy interrupted her memories, placing his arm around her shoulders. “Thinking of more pleasant things, my love? Let me guess, two blond, handsome young men?”
“I was just remembering the day the boys and I moved into Lucas Place and how Loretta helped me find just the perfect house for us all. That seems so long ago Jeremy. Austin and Loretta were not married and you and I were in-laws. The future was very frightening for a twenty-year-old English girl with three stepsons to raise.”
“And look at how it all turned out, the boys are successful and happy, you and I are still in love, Loretta and Austin have a marvelous family, and let's not forget the message from our lovely daughter, ‘I hate you, Father and tell Mother she has ruined my life.’ Yes we have come a long way.” Jeremy and Martha laughed out loud.
Chapter Eight
Ocean Crossing
Ezekiel stood on the deck of the steamship, as the other passengers boarded. Stacks of luggage filled the dock, people of all walks of life moved toward the gangplank; rich and poor alike all traveling to America, some to start a new life, others vacationing or visiting long lost families, but all anxious to arrive on the other side of the huge Atlantic.
The sky was gray with low-lying clouds, the air moist with sea air. The dock was a cacophony of odors and sounds. The smell of fish and salt water blended with the bouquet of wealthy ladies’ perfume, foreign tongues intermingled like a disorganized symphony and the ship's whistle boomed loudly over it all. Ezekiel had traveled to England on a ship very like this one and he was a seaworthy traveler. He quite enjoyed the sights and sounds of the dock and the voyage. He was anxious to see his family again but the incident with Geraldine still bothered him. Would I have actually struck her? Where did such a violent action come from? It had to be the memory of Father and Wyoming. Why can't I just forget those days?
As the ship moved away from port, Ezekiel remembered his first ocean voyage. A boy of five, he was frightened and unsure of his future. His father did not discuss the voyage with the boys and simply put them on the ship with a new stepmother who wanted nothing to do with them. They saw little of their father during that sea voyage, but Ezekiel remembered playing with all of the other children on the ship, children with tattered clothes and strange accents. He also remembered standing in the narrow hallway outside their cabin door and hearing Martha's screams. His brothers were seven and ten at the time. The boys stood in the narrow hallway of the ship; eyes down and no one spoke. They knew what to expect if they did not do exactly what they were told. It was a glorious day when we left Wyoming with Martha, the first day of life without you, Father. So why are you haunting my thoughts after all these years? Can't you just lie in your cold dark grave and leave us alone?
Deciding a brandy was in order, Ezekiel moved toward the lounge. A short, buxom, young woman fluttered her eyelashes in his direction as he entered. She wore a gown of pale green that accented her lovely eyes. Her blonde hair was piled high on her head. He smiled and moved toward the bar. Better things to think about on this voyage, observing the young woman's reflection in the mirror over the bar.
Seated next to Ezekiel at the bar was a gentleman in his early forties, well-dressed and quietly sipping his brandy. “Good afternoon sir, Ezekiel Whittaker.” Ezekiel held out his hand and the gentleman shook it firmly.
“Carnegie, Andrew Carnegie, nice to meet you young man. Will you join me?” The older man led Ezekiel to a small table and the steward quickly followed with the brandy. Ezekiel noticed that he brought the entire bottle not just two glasses. “What brings you to America?”
“I am going home to St. Louis to see my family. I haven't seen them in over two years and I am looking forward to the reunion. I live in Northumberland and don't see them as often as I would like.” Ezekiel lifted his glass in a toast to his new shipboard acquaintance and let the warm liquid trickle down his throat. It was a very good brandy; obviously this was a gentleman of means. “I am a professor at the Northumberland Boy's School. And you, sir?”
“My mother and I are returning from a trip to our hometown in Scotland, perhaps you have heard of it? Dunfermline? I donated a large sum of money to build a new library and Mother accompanied me to the opening ceremonies.” Ezekiel remembered reading just recently about an American businessman donating a library in the east of Scotland. He searched his memory and then realized that he was sitting with the American steel magnate himself. Slightly intimidated, he waited for the gentleman to continue.
“I was born in Dunfermline more than forty years ago and I swore that if I ever had money, I would make life better for the people of the town. As a professor, I am sure you agree that education and learning are extremely important.” He raised his glass, sniffing the brandy before sipping. Ezekiel was impressed with the humble essence of the man. He seemed to be thinking of something pleasant as a small grin crossed his face. “I have built libraries in America, but this is my first in Scotland. Mother thoroughly enjoyed being paraded down the High Street in a carriage for all of her old friends to see. She was very poor when we lived in Dunfermline years ago. When she realized I would be traveling back to my hometown, Mother insisted on joining me on this trip, but to be honest, I would have preferred the company of my fiancée Louise Whitfield. I miss her terribly.”
Over the course of the next two hours, Ezekiel learned of Carnegie's life in America, how he worked in the railroad and telegraph. Carnegie opened his first steel plant in Pennsylvania in 1875, informing Ezekiel of the steel-making process that he studied in England and then applied to his American plants. Naturally, he combined his interests in railroad and telegraph with the steel plants, making more and more money. He explained how he had written a letter to himself outlining his goal to retire at thirty- five, live on $50,000 a year and donate his life to philanthropic causes. Now, he was a philanthropist first and a businessman second having amassed a huge fortune.
The meeting was a welcome distraction and Ezekiel soaked up the information like a sponge. Always the scholar, he was both impressed and fascinated with his new traveling companion. He could hardly imagine retiring at thirty-five, which in his case would be only nine years away. He loved his professorship and imagined that he would be teaching for the rest of his life. His students would be impressed to learn of Andrew Carnegie's great fortune and now, having met the man behind the legend, Ezekiel could relay a more personal account. Carnegie departed, leaving him mentally composing future lessons for his students.
The seas grew rough and tumultuous over the next week and the passengers’ mood was depressed. Ezekiel attempted to get to know the blonde woman, Elizabeth Porter, but soon found her to be lacking in the intellectual stimulation that he required. The only subjects she appeared versed in, were clothing and social status and no matter what subject he attempted to discuss, she quickly reverted back to her favorites. He also found her persistence rather annoying and she began to remind him of Geraldine.
Ezekiel began to spend time in his cabin thankful for his latest purchase, Ballads and Sonnets-Five English Poets by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. He found the book fascinating as it included the works of five of his favorite poets: Keats, Chatterton, Blake, Coleridge, and Shelley. Even as a child, Ezekiel found an escape to another world between the pages of books. It was a comfortable and secure environment that he visited often.
Miss Porter seemed to always be in the same room or on the same deck, no matter what time of day. He began to avoid her, but she sought him out, often seating herself with him during meals, much to his annoyance. One evening as he entered the dining room, he noticed Mr. Carnegie and his mother seated at a table for four, he quickly made his way toward them. Upon arriving, he instructed the steward to remove the other chair, much to the entertainment of the Carnegies. “Expecting a certain buxom blonde, Mr. Whittaker?” The three laughed out loud. His having become the hunted rather than the hunter had not gone unnoticed. The dinner went well and he enjoyed their company as well as the topics of convers
ation immensely.
Mrs. Carnegie surprised Ezekiel with her knowledge of the late eighteenth-century poet-prodigy Thomas Chatterton, who committed suicide in London at age 17.
“The poet is intensely romantic and sentimental, which corresponds with the prevailing spirit of his age. Later scholarship has revealed a much more interesting and complex character.” Ezekiel stated as he, Andrew and the matron enjoyed a brandy.
“Did you know that in his early childhood Chatterton showed no signs of talent? He was regarded as little better than an idiot until he was about six and a half years old, because he would learn nothing, refused to play with other children, and spent most of his time brooding in silence. He was expelled from his first school as a dullard. I find that fascinating,” Mrs. Carnegie added. “I always liked this story. The story goes that one day he found his mother tearing up some old music folios for waste paper. The folios had been brought home from the church some years previously by his father for use as sewing-patterns, book bindings and the like. According to his mother, Thomas, age seven, ‘fell in love’ with the illuminated capitals and, his interest once aroused, his mother soon taught him to read with the aid of the discarded manuscript. If the story can be trusted, his reading progressed from the old folios to a Bible and then to any books he could find.”
“I know he started writing poetry at fifteen. My particular favorite is A Hymn for Christmas Day.” Ezekiel paused and smiled as Andrew Carnegie began to unexpectedly recite that very poem.
“Almighty Framer of the Skies,
O let our pure devotion rise,
Like incense in thy sight.
Yes that is one of my favorites as well.” The three thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. “Now what do you think about the ‘Mad Shelley’?”
“Shelley's Dejection really is the epitome of his life. I quote:
Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that content surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found,
And walked with inward glory crowned--
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure
Others I see whom these surround—
Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Yes, I believe he was quite mad indeed.” Ezekiel raised his glass to his dinner companions just as Miss Porter entered the room. “It is time for me to return to my cabin and my book, thank you both for a most enjoyable discussion. I bid you, good evening.” Ezekiel headed in the opposite direction of Miss Porter and quickly made his way to his cabin feeling he had just made a narrow escape. The Carnegies laughed to themselves as Miss Porter looked anxiously around the room, her disappointment obvious.
“That young man has quite an admirer in Miss Porter. I don't know if he will be able to avoid her for much longer.” Mrs. Carnegie excused herself and retired for the evening. Miss Porter immediately seated herself beside Andrew and struck up a conversation. Amused, he stayed in his chair and enjoyed the attention that the young woman was giving him. It did, however, make him miss his fiancée all the more.
Chapter Nine
Annabelle and Isaac
Annabelle tiptoed into the children's room. She gently pulled the covers over the sleeping Sissy. She checked Amy's crib and then moved silently out of the room looking over her shoulder at her sleeping angels. Thomas was also asleep when she peeked into his room at the end of the long hallway. Lowering the light, she made her way to the room where Isaac waited patiently for his wife.
Removing her robe, she slipped into bed, immediately moving into his waiting arms. Annabelle Whittaker loved her husband even more today than she had the first time she laid eyes on him. She was twelve years old when she came to work in Martha's house as a seamstress. She would never forget the quiet, shy boy that peeked at her from beyond the sewing room and always seemed to appear whenever she was in the house. She loved him from the first moment and knew that one day, without a doubt, she would be his wife. She smiled at her husband and kissed him gently. “Where are your thoughts this evening?”
“I was thinking about Abe and Zeke coming home again. It will be so good to see them. Earlier today I thought about the day when the three of us stood out by the old fence and they told me their secret.” Isaac moved his eyes from his wife's face to the ceiling. That haunted look, she sometimes glimpsed on his face, returned.
“Don't think about that time. It just upsets you. I have something much more pleasant in mind.” She snuggled her head closer, moving her hands under his nightshirt, her long red hair fell like waves over his body.
“Ah, what a pleasant distraction, my wife.”
The next morning, Isaac and Sissy worked in the barn before the sun was up. Sissy moved through her chores mechanically and even at her young age seemed completely in tuned with the rhythm of the barn and its inhabitants. “Pa, Thomas said that Granddad is your uncle and that your real father is dead. Is that true?”
Caught completely off guard, Isaac remained silent. “Pa, I asked you a question.” Persistence was one of Sissy's greatest assets. Isaac knew she would not be put off.
“Yes Sissy, a long time ago my father died and his brother, Uncle Jeremy married Grandma. She used to be married to my real father, Jebediah Whittaker.” Hoping that would satisfy her he moved into the chicken coop, opening the gate for the hens to move into the yard.
“Well, do you miss your real pa? I would cry forever if you died. You're not going to die are you?” She looked at Isaac with large sad eyes. He shook his head ‘no’ and kissed her on her head.
“I'm sorry that your pa is dead but Granddad is special so I'm glad he married Grandma.” Everything was reduced to simple terms when you were Sissy's age.
“Yes, Granddad is very special to us as well and to tell you the truth I do not miss my real father at all. Now, let's get those horses fed and go in for breakfast. Race you to the horse barn, Pumpkin.” Isaac began a slow jog towards the other building when a small, giggling red headed blur ran by. Now Isaac's thoughts turned to Thomas and why he was talking about Jebediah Whittaker.
Later that morning he discussed it with Annabelle. Annabelle looked at her husband with understanding, “Well, we found some boxes in the attic last week when we were cleaning. Thomas asked who Jebediah Whittaker was and why he had a town named after him. I had to explain that you and your family used to live in Wyoming with your real father. When he died, the townspeople named the town, Whittakerville after him, as a memento of his life. It is this family's legacy.” Annabelle looked at Isaac for any signs of disapproval, but saw none. “I had to tell him the truth Isaac. I won't lie to my children. He seemed satisfied with that information and then asked about Jeremy and Martha. I explained that your Uncle Jeremy was your father's brother and that many years after Jebediah died, Jeremy married Martha and became your father as well as your uncle. It was starting to get confusing so we left it at that.” She reached out and stroked his face. “I never thought that he would tell Sissy. I'm sorry if she caused you any heartache but we knew that we would have to explain one day.” She moved toward Isaac and put her arms around his waist. At five foot, her head rested on his chest.
“I'm glad you were the one to tell him, you know how to give just enough information to satisfy them.” Isaac's arms encircled his tiny wife. “Thank you Annabelle. Let's hope they will leave it at that.” Baby Amy bellowed and Annabelle hurried to the cradle. Isaac turned and left the house. Annabelle came from a large Irish family of ten children. She was raised in the Kerry Patch; an Irish community in St. Louis and her father was a baker. Although the family was poor, they were loved and cherished as children and she felt a deep sadness when she thought of the atrocities that Martha, Isaac, and his brothers, had endured at the hands of that horrible man. She never wanted Isaac to be reminded of those days. She would mention to Thomas that it was not a happy time for them or a subject that
his father liked to discuss. Thomas was a sensitive boy and she knew that he would respect her wishes. She picked up Amy and went to find her son.
Thomas was mending the fence by the pigsty when his mother found him. “Need a break? I brought you some fresh raspberry muffins.” Annabelle set the basket she was carrying down on a stump and handed her son a damp cloth to clean his hands. Amy rested sleepily on her other shoulder. Thomas took the cloth and then the muffin gratefully.
“Thanks, Ma. I was getting a little hungry.” He devoured the muffin and reached for another.
“Thomas, I want to talk to you about your father. Remember the other morning when you and I were cleaning the attic?” Hesitantly, she looked at her son as she chose her next words carefully. “Well, I want to tell you that the days in Wyoming were not happy ones for your father and his family. It is not something that should be discussed. Do you understand?”
“But why not, we have a town named after our family. I think that is the greatest. I want to tell everyone.” Thomas could not hide his enthusiasm over this latest discovery.
“Jebediah Whittaker was not the kind of father that your father is. He was very hard on the boys.” Annabelle was having trouble saying what she wanted without telling Thomas the entire story.
“What do you mean Ma? Was he mean?”
“Yes he was and sometimes the boys were beaten. I don't want to get into it Thomas but you must respect your father's wishes and not discuss this with anyone. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, Ma, but what about our town?” Thomas was still fantasizing about how popular he would be at school when they found out about Whittakerville.
The Whittaker Family Reunion Page 5
