by Joy Redmond
I had been a bad girl and I had gone against God’s word. I accepted my punishment as I deserved it. But come Christmas morning, Father gave me a nice Brownie camera. The first present I’d ever gotten, because Father always said Christmas was foolish. I reckon it was another way of letting me know he was sorry he had whipped the hide off me.
I couldn’t erase the feel of the boy’s sweet kisses from my mind. My heart actually wanted more kisses from him. That also made me ashamed. I really wanted to keep his coat, but my shame finally got the best of me and I burned it in the fireplace.
Here it is nine months later, and I can still close my eyes and feel his soft lips on mine. I’m in love and I suppose I always will be. However, I’ve never seen or heard from him since. I don’t know what happened to him.
Sincerely,
Cousin Ruby
PS:
Ruby dropped her head on the desk and fought the tears that wanted to pour down her face. She wasn’t sure she wanted to finish the letter, and she wondered why she reread the letters from time to time. But each time she read them it seemed to help ease her heart pain. She was glad she had never mailed them. She drew in a deep breath, raised her head and picked up the last three pages and continued to read.
I need to empty my heart for it pains me more than I have words to put on paper. One week ago, I gave birth. Father never knew I was in the family way because I’ve always been on the plump side and I suppose he thought I was just getting fatter. I made a couple dresses bigger and hid my condition. I’m so thankful it was a Sunday afternoon when I went into labor.
Father was taking his nap and I hurried upstairs to my bedroom and picked up my sewing kit. I hurried back downstairs, went out the back door, and headed for the woods behind the house. Once it was born, I was going to bring the baby back to the house and tell Father that I had found an abandoned baby.
I sat on the ground beside a tree, and I thought I’d die when each contraction hit me. When it was time, I wrapped my arms around the tree, squatted and pushed with all my might. It only took four pushes and my baby came out. I grabbed it before it hit the ground. Holding tightly, I sat down on a pile of leaves and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was holding the most perfect and most beautiful little boy in the world. He looked like a little papoose. Just as I grabbed for my sewing kit, I realized he hadn’t cried.
My heart was pounding as I turned him upside down and gave him a sound whack on his little behind. He still didn’t cry. I whacked him several more times. He didn’t cry. I pried his tiny mouth open and covered it with mine. I blew with all I had, trying to breathe life into him, but it was of no use. I thought it only fitting that I tie and cut his cord. I just held him to my breast and cried as I’ve never cried in my life. I really thought the heart pain would kill me and I hoped it would.
I don’t know how long I sat there holding him, but I finally realized the sun was going down. I knew Father would be hunting for me since I wasn’t in the house and had his supper fixed. I reached under my dress, ripped my petticoat off and wrapped my precious son in it. I dug him a grave with my bare hands. I placed him in the hole in the ground, wanting to bury myself with him, but I knew I had to be strong and do what I had to do. Father needed me.
I pushed the dirt into the hole, covering a piece of my heart with my son. Then I smoothed the loose dirt on top. I wanted to mark his grave with a wooden cross, but I couldn’t take the chance on Father finding it. So I picked up a rock, and using my scissors, I etched a heart on it. I wanted to etch his name, Robert Earl but I thought better of that idea too. I named him after Father. I placed the rock on the grave, kissed it, then hurried for the house.
Thankfully, by the time I got back to the house I heard Father talking to Mr. Mullins in the front yard. I hurried inside through the back door, poured water into the wash basin, then headed upstairs. I was praying I could get myself cleaned up and redressed before Father came inside. Mr. Mullins was a big talker and he and Father were still outside talking and solving the world’s problems when I came back downstairs. I threw the bloody water out the back door, then I headed to the stove to fix supper.
Ruby folded the letter, put it back into the envelope and shoved it into the drawer. She headed back to bed and turned off the lamp. Ruby wiped her eyes and whispered, “God was on my side that day and stayed there for the next week. Father seemed to realize I was ailing and he didn’t make me go back to the fields. Thinking back, I realize now that it was a blessing for God to take my baby. Father was smart enough to figure out the baby was mine, and he would have made me take it to an orphanage. Thank you, God for taking my baby back Home. Keep him forever in your loving arms.”
Ruby cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Three
As the weeks passed, Lance missed Jimmy more than he could express. He hated being the only boy at Hampton House. The girls had to do housecleaning, cooking and sewing. He had to work the garden and hoe until his hands blistered. He chopped wood, and holding the ax put more blisters on his palms. He mowed grass with a push lawnmower with dull blades and the blisters worsened.
Miss Hampton soaked gauze in turpentine, wrapped his hands, then sent him back to work, saying, “I’ve had plenty of blisters in my time. Father wouldn’t abide a weakling, and he didn’t allow me being a girl to keep me from plowing the fields or anything else that needed to be done. It didn’t hurt me none. It taught me to be a strong woman. I’m teaching ya to be a strong man. Someday you’ll thank me.”
Lance was a tough boy and strong for an eight-year-old, but there was more work than he could keep up with. Miss Hampton helped him chop wood, and Lance knew it was because she wanted to make sure there would be enough on the post pile to last through the coming winter.
By the end of that summer, Lance was still peeing in the bed. Miss Hampton used the butter paddle on him every morning. With every swat she’d yell, “Bad boy!” Large red welts rose on his bare calves and stung for hours.
Miss Hampton wouldn’t change his bed, nor would she allow Peggy Joe to change it. He had to sleep on the wet, stinky sheets. Miss Hampton got harder on him when the peeing didn’t stop. Every morning after his regular paddling, she’d have him on his hands and knees, wire brush in hand, scrubbing the kitchen linoleum floor for hours at a time. His kneecaps swelled and he could barely walk by the end of the day.
When he was done he’d pitch the dirty water out the back door, put the bucket and scrub brush in the kitchen closet, then hobble into the living room with a defiant smirk on his face as if he was daring Miss Hampton to do something worse to him.
Many times, Lance overheard Miss Hampton telling Peggy Jo, “I’m in despair as to how to break his strong spirit. But when that boy smiles, he can light up a room and melt a heart of stone. Strange, I tell ya. It’s like he can see right through me with those dark eyes. One minute he can be so sweet, he could charm a barrel of snakes. The next, he acts as if he hates me. I just can’t figure out what’s going on in his head. I think he has a dark heart.”
Lance would chuckle then mumble, “If ya only knew what was going on in my head, ya stupid old crone, you’d run for the hills. My heart is as dark as you’ve made it.”
Chapter Four
One night when Ruby retired to her chambers, Father was heavy on her mind. Though he had been gone thirty years, she still missed him. She wished she had him to talk to, wondering how he would handle a boy like Lance.
She dressed for bed, then pulled the chair from her desk, took out the letters and found the one she was looking for.
July 16, 1928
Dear Willadeen,
Father died three days ago. The pain in my heart is great. I don’t know how I’ll go on without him, but I will, just as I’ve gone on the past ten years. I’m going to farm out the land to sharecroppers. I’ll always have a nice income, and I’m also frugal. Father taught me that as well as many other things. He was hard on me, but he taught me to be a strong woman. I’m muddling through
my days, not really knowing what I’m supposed to do.
As you know, this is a big, two-story house. It was the first brick house built in these parts. It should still be standing 100 years from now. But I get so lonely here and the house seems to get bigger by the day with just me being here.
I want to open an orphanage in remembrance of my little Robbie, as I call him now. I’ll take in as many children as this house will hold, and I’ll raise them as Father raised me. He once told me a parent shouldn’t hug a child or show affection in any way because it would spoil them and you’d lose control of them.
I’m almost 29 years old, and I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting approved to open Hampton House Orphanage. That’s what I’m going to call this house from now on. I’ve got an appointment to talk with Father’s lawyer, tomorrow.
I’ll finish this letter tomorrow and let you know how things went at the lawyer’s.
PS. Things at the lawyer’s office went fine. He filled out all the necessary paperwork and said in no time at all I’d be able to hang out my shingle. You won’t believe this, but when I was in town today, I saw the man who fathered my son. After all these years I still felt my heart go pitty-patter when I remembered his sweet kisses. I know what he did to me was because he was drunk and he couldn’t control his man urges. I forgive him.
Then my heart got to paining when I saw a woman and two little girls walk up to him. I reckon they were his wife and children. Anyway, they went into the fabric shop and he stayed outside to have a smoke. I always carry my Brownie with me, so I sneaked in as close as I dared and snapped a few pictures of him. I can’t wait to get them developed.
Sincerely,
Cousin Ruby
Ruby folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. “All these years later and I’ve taken in twenty-five children. I soon learned that boys were much harder than girls to keep under control.” She smiled as she remembered the children and how pleased she was with most of them when they turned eighteen and she sent them off on their own. Some of them she knew were headed for trouble, for they were born trouble. It was in their blood, and no matter how hard she had tried, she couldn’t change what they had been born to be. Some she believed had gone on to become good, upstanding adults, though she had never seen or heard from any of them once they had left Hampton House.
Ruby wasn’t sleepy, so she decided to read a couple more letters.
March 2,1933
Dear Cousin Willadeen,
My orphanage has been open for five years now. It only took three months for me to get my license and the house approved by the state to open up for business. Miss Hoity-Toity from Raleigh had to come inspect the house, but she was impressed. As soon as I got my license, I painted a sign and posted it on the road a few feet from the mailbox, and within three days, I got my first two children. A boy and a girl. Over the past five years, I’ve taken in eight more. Some of them were infants, and some of them were as old as five. I’ve got my hands full. Some days I don’t know if I’m coming or going, and by the end of the day I’m exhausted. That’s good though, because it takes my mind off of my heartaches.
I decided since I had children, we needed electricity. I had it put in. It’s so nice to flip a switch or pull a string and the whole room will light up. Soon, I’m going to buy me a range for the kitchen. I’m tired of cooking on the wood-burning stove.
I finally decided to put in two bathrooms. Of course I’ll have to heat water, but it’ll be nice to take a bath in a big tub.
I’ve also been putting up Christmas trees since I started taking in children. And I buy them one present each. Nothing expensive, just little baby dolls for the girls and comic books for the boys. I always buy them a box of handkerchiefs too.
Sincerely,
Cousin Ruby
Ruby folded the letter with intentions of writing a new one, but instead she picked up an old one and continued reading, remembering back through the years. The children had kept her young and she was thankful for each one that had come through the door of Hampton House Orphanage.
November 15, 1943
Dear Cousin Willadeen,
It’s been a few years since I’ve written but I’m too busy to write. So many children. So much work. But the more they come, the more I teach the older ones to take care of the younger ones. They don’t think it’s fair, but I believe some day they’ll thank me. I can remember the many times when I thought Father was unfair to me, only to realize in my older years, he was doing me a favor. I’m in my forties now but I’m going strong and I’m still taking them in. Last week I got a new one. He’s four-years old. His name is Jimmy. He’s a sweet boy, always in a good mood and seldom cries. But he seems to be a delicate child and I might have to be a little less harsh with him. There’s something about him that tells me he’ll break like a piece of glass if I don’t cut him some slack.
Today, another little boy, Warren, was dropped off. He’s two-years old and I can tell you he’s going to be a handful. I hope it doesn’t take long for me to break his strong will and teach him who’s boss. When it comes to a battle of wills, I always win. I’ll write more when I find the time.
Sincerely,
Cousin Ruby
Ruby was bone tired. Jimmy was gone and she missed him. Warren was gone and she was glad. “Now to figure out how to handle Lance,” she whispered.
Ruby’s mind traveled back to the day when Lance had come to Hampton House.
Chapter Five
April 1949
The sun was coming up over the mountains, and a soothing, warm breeze was blowing. The trees were adorned with bright green leaves, and birds chirped sweet music. Jonquils were in full bloom, and patches of them sprung up here and there amid the pine and hickory trees on either side of the long, dirt lane.
Ruby opened the front door, looked up and gazed at the clear blue sky promising a beautiful day ahead as she stepped out onto the porch and felt her foot bump into something.
Ruby bent down, and to her surprise, she saw a picnic basket, then she heard the faint cry of a baby. “Another one,” she said, her voice sounding a bit annoyed. She touched the infant’s forehead, making sure there was no fever, no disease being brought to her doorstep. The last thing she needed was a sick baby that would infect the other children.
Ruby was going on fifty-years-old, but she was in excellent health, and still had the energy of a woman in her thirties. Ruby was five-feet-nine inches tall. She was heavyset and her walk was masculine, as was her raspy voice. Her deep-set brown eyes held a stern look, exuding no emotions.
Ruby carried the basket inside, pushing the door shut with her foot, and continued on through the living room, took a sharp left and headed into the kitchen. She placed the basket on the table, pulled back the blue blanket and read a note that was pinned to the baby’s undershirt. My name is Lance Alvie Jackson. I was born April 1, 1949.
Ruby stood with her hands on her hips. “Two weeks old, and a boy. There hasn’t been a boy brought here since Jimmy and Warren arrived. “Come, little fellow, I need to find breakfast for you,” she said, lifting the baby into her arms. “There’s nothing that compares with holding a newborn,” she softly whispered.
She crossed the living room and headed upstairs, where Lisa, a sixteen-year-old, had given birth to a stillborn son three days ago. After the birth, Lisa had coiled into a fetal position, refused to talk, eat or drink. Ruby thought Lisa was willing herself to die too, just as she herself had the day her own son was born dead.
Ruby walked into Lisa’s bedroom. “Lisa, looky what I brought ya. He’s hungry. I know your breasts are hurting now that your milk has come down.”
Lisa turned her head toward Ruby’s voice. When she saw the top of the baby’s head, she uncoiled, sat straight up in bed, lifted her arms, her eyes wide, and a smile spread her lips.
“Ah, Miss Hampton, you found my baby. God didn’t take him after all,” she said, as if her son was on his way to Heaven when Miss Hampton ca
ught him by the heels and dragged him back before he had gone through the tunnel toward the bright light.
“That’s right. I got him. Now ya need to feed him,” Ruby said, patting Lisa’s arm, fighting back tears. Ruby walked out of the room when Lance latched onto a breast and began sucking as if he was half starved. Ruby hurried back downstairs, unlocked her bedroom door and hurried to her desk. She took out a new pencil and a piece of stationary.
April 14, 1949
Dear Cousin Willadeen,
Another baby was just dropped at my doorstep. A little boy. When I first saw him, he took my breath away. He looked just like my own son, Robbie. He has dark hair, dark eyes and high cheekbones. My heart is so full I can barely write this. It’s like God sent my son back to me after all these years. I’m almost 50 as you well know, but I feel like I’m eighteen again.
I can never let him know how much I love him because I don’t want him to ever take advantage of that, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let this one go. I want to keep him with me for the rest of my days. I’m so happy.
Sincerely,
Cousin Ruby
Chapter Six
Ruby could barely concentrate on her chores for the rest of the day or keep up with the children. She made many trips upstairs to check on Lisa and Lance. Lisa had come back to life, and Lance looked content. Ruby couldn’t resist picking up Lance each time she walked into the room, even when he was asleep. She never allowed anyone to hold a baby while they were sleeping, but she broke her own rule. She didn’t make a big fuss over him, and Lisa didn’t seem to notice that Ruby had a glow about her.
That evening, Lisa came downstairs and took her seat at the kitchen table. “I’ve got to eat and keep my milk coming. I want my baby to be strong and healthy.”
