SHANTY TOWN DREAMER

SHANTY TOWN

DREAMER

A Romance Novel

by

Dan R. Fowler

In My Eyes

by

Debbie Nofsinger

printed by permission

My eyes beheld her beauty far beyond that of a thousand queens of a thousand Niles, set there on her face in one enchanted smile.

This shanty girl, was pure perfection,

Regal and fine.

Spite this world's rejection.

Her beauty came from deep within and radiated outward.

In Spite of any objection.

No style? No worth? No dowry, No grace?

What could they be looking at, it could not be this face.

How could one face in all the world change a life, a heart? Make this thumping stop, never depart.

All I thought to be real, I see now just an illusion.

As I look inside eyes of truth.

Truth of what I have been, all an act, to impress.

To attain success, seems a weary man's route to nothingness.

An awakening to something totally unknown to me.

And strange. What is this spell, who conjured this?

Can this be love?

Standing before me you are glory, you are all I will ever want, How can I breath again if you depart?

For

Cynthia

The Hopeless Romantic

Introduction

He can't seem to shake the memory. From the top floor of his office building, he stands in the window and looks out over his domain, one of the cities that never sleeps in the north. His mind is drawn to a simple uncluttered encounter. It was just a brief moment, a second or two at most, but the scene has stuck in his mind for over 15 years. Miles away in a much smaller town filled with muddy dirt roads, on the outskirts of a place called the 'Shanty Town', Mrs. Craft remembers a person she happened to meet purely by accident at the train station's taxi turnabout. She didn't befriend the man and barely said thank you as he held the taxi door for her to take possession. But as he held the door, there was an undeniable sensation that he'd see her again. He was leaving town, she was trapped in it.

The image of the young lady has haunted the man in the window hundreds of miles away in a world unfamiliar with 'The Shanties,' its collection of shacks, and one of its inhabitants.

The Farrington dynasty finds itself embroiled in a tale of a Matriarch, her sons, and their unrelenting social antics that will result in changing everyone's lives that they come in contact with in the deep sultry Southern states. For Sophia and Felicity, no greater betrayal could've transpired. No greater sorrow born than that which was perpetrated by the Farrington Dynasty. Yet, even in the throws of poverty, in the untold languishing, there is still an ember that burns within the heart of the woman living under the Oak umbrellas sequestered away from the one she has loved an entire lifetime.

Chapter

1

Penny Candy

She was nearly 13 years old when the 'great awakening' occurred. It was a time for tears, a time for confusion, but most of all it was a time to imagine possibilities. Unbeknownst to her, the errand her mother sent her on took her by one of the marketplace cobblestone-floored stores where, for the first time, she'd find a window to the world. It was there she saw a glimpse, a blink of the eye vision, of a world she'd never seen before. It was a revelation.

Opening the door and walking up to the counter, the little girl's eyes were fixed on the small, but powerful box setting on a shelf over behind the counter. Sounds were coming from the magic box, magical sounds, ones she had not hear before. The magic box was there for the amusement of the owner who, for reasons of his own, placed it there some time ago. Ole Mr. Sam was alone now after the passing of his wife. Having been married for over 47 years, her lose almost took him too. His business had been prosperous enough for him to purchase the small magical box even though by no means would his wealth retire him anytime soon. It was the life of the shop keeper in a dreamless shanty town eclipsed by moss-filled oat trees who's branches created an umbrella over the entire market area.

In the squatter's area of Alabama, it was the law that those who chose to exercise their right, had to have been a resident on the property for at least 10 years. In Hopewell, the squatters laid their claims to the abundant, but desolate terrain on the outskirts of the nearest large city. In this location, one filled with only survival, Felicity Craft and her mother lived alone with one other small child. Her father, whoever he was, left years before, right after the birth of Felicity's younger sister.

Even though the big city was within walking distance, her family never visited it. There wasn't any need to be highfalutin, a comment her mother shared more times than not during the course of her daily recitations. She dominated their lives. In that domination, she told them how the children should act or what they should say. She told them in her callous, bitter tone that they shouldn't expect anything out of life. For Felicity, the speeches went in one ear and out the other. She knew they were poor, dirt poor, but she also knew she wanted more out of life than just squatter's rights and a bowl of gravy. The continual lecturing about not thinking too highly of ones self grated on her nerves and her soul.

What was wrong with trying to do better?

What was wrong with using your mind, your thoughts, your imagination to make your life better?

If she could do it, Felicity was determined to rise above the dirt, the squalor, and the depression that was suffocating them all.

"Hello!" called out the owner, ole Mr. Sam. He was kind to all the squatter children, slipping them a few small pieces of hard candy into their bags for a little surprise when they got home. He really couldn't afford to give anything away but due to his upbringing, he just felt good about it. He and his late wife had no children during their marriage. Therefore, he sort of adopted the dirty, flour sack kids as his own. Besides, the children in the area had nothing. No one in the area had anything. Once the 'big city' began to decline, the fate of those remaining was sealed.

"City Girl" what you doin' here? Did your Mama send you out again? And, how is your Mama?" Ole Mr. Sam asked as he watched Felicity as she drew nearer to the magic box over the counter.

Turning to respond, Felicity knew ole Mr. Sam didn't mean any harm. He thought it was a good nickname for the little girl who wanted to be more than a squatter. She carried herself differently, her mind was sharp, her tongue even sharper.

"Mama's okay, busy with the other kid." she answered as she continued to look at the magic box.

"So how many bothers and sisters you got now, City girl?" ole Mr. Sam asked as he watched the little girl began to lose interest in the magic box setting over the counter.

"My Mama told me not say nothin' 'bout our family to no body. She tells me that people don't need to know our business. And, she said other people need to mind their own business. That's what she told me." replied Felicity as she turned to get about buying what she came to get and waited for ole Mr. Sam to change the subject.

What her mama told her to get wouldn't be more than she could carry, never is. It wouldn't be much, just a small bag of flour and one stick of butter. It wasn't nothin' much, but enough to put together to make some flat bread and water gravy. Felicity's mama made that a lot. She'd tell her and her sister that when you ain't got nothin' else, roll out some dough and make a little water gravy until things got better. But it seemed to Felicity that things weren't ever going to get better.

"My mama said for me to get a bag of flour, you know, one of those little ones likes settin' over there." revealed Felicity as she pointed to the cloth bags containing fleshly ground flour on the counter just left of the magic box.

"My mama said she wanted the one with the flowers printed on it." she requested as she again pointed to the flour bags.

Turning to see which bags of flour the little girl was pointing toward, ole Mr. Sam couldn't help but recognize the same pattern of flowers on Felicity's dress. In the deep south, especially during the depression and many years after, it wasn't unusual for mothers to use the flour sacks to make their children's clothes. In fact, it was perfectly natural given the state of affairs roundabout the shanty towns.

"Yes, that's the one!" shouted Felicity as she watched ole Mr. Sam pick up the least expensive bag of flour, the one with the daisies printed on it and placed it on the counter.

"Now, what else did your mama tell you to get?" asked ole Mr. Sam as he leaned forward toward the little girl transfixed in thought to make sure she didn't forget anything to take back home. It wasn't that far to walk to the little store, but walking it alone as dusk closed in was scary.

"I just need a stick of butter. It's got to be wrapped up real good or I'll get into trouble. You know, it has to stay cool till I get it home." instructed the thin little girl clothed in the only dress she had at the time. Maybe things would get better, maybe not, but for Felicity it was her life. It was a life that had no end in sight.

Gathering up the requested items, ole Mr. Sam wrapped the stick of butter with the best paper he had and placed it in the small paper sack along side the flour sack printed with daisies. This would probably be his last customer of the day. Outside, evening's shadowy fingers stretched across the dirt road and paused at the bottom step of his makeshift store. Evening only meant one thing, the possibility of looters. And, for that reason, he kept his rifle loaded and ready beside his chair in the back room. He lived in the back of the store because he couldn't afford to buy a house or even a cottage. Besides, it was just him now, no family, and the back room was enough. He did his best to make ends meet and couldn't afford trespassers.

"Here ya go!" said ole Mr. Sam as he pushed the small bag containing the flour and the butter towards the other side of the counter where Felicity was standing. "That'll be 32 cents. And I'll throw in an extra sack because something got into one of my flour bags. Had to throw the flour away. So, here, take the sack. I'm sure your mama can find some use for it."

To Felicity, 32 cents was more money than she owned. Her mama took in ironing as best she could from time-to-time to keep scraps on the table for her kids. She'd set the flatiron on the small wood stove until it was hot enough to get the wrinkles out, then press the garments, fold them, and have them ready when the hired boy came to pick them up. It was hard work, but there weren't any jobs to be had. And, if the well-to-do wanted their clothes ironed and willing to pay good hard cash, her mama took advantage of the offer.

"Here!" said Felicity as she held out her hand for ole Mr. Sam to count the money out. She didn't know much about 'rithmetic or countin'. School wasn't a priority in the squatters, just survival. Ole Mr. Sam was trusted by the people who lived in the shanty town to do right by them. He only took what was due him and left the rest for another day.

"Okay! You're all paid up." said ole Mr. Sam as he placed the few pennies and nickles in the drawer behind the counter. "We're all settled up!" he added and smiled as he handed the bag to Felicity.

Grasping hold of the bag, she turned and faced the magic box again. Curious as to what it all meant, she couldn't help but ask what it was. "Can you tell me what that is, that magic box? I've never seen one before." added Felicity as she finished saying thank you for the items in the bag.

"Why, that's the newest thing out now-a-days miss 'City'. It's called a television. Some just say TV for short. But it cost me a pretty penny I'll tell you. But, it shows you other places in the world. It's hard to get a connection so I use what's called as 'rabbit ears' to try to pull in a channel. Sometimes it works, sometimes it don't. But as you can see, today I got connected pretty good." summed up ole Mr. Sam as he looked away from the little girl to the most expensive thing in his store. He was well into his later years and felt he owed himself something, a special gift for his last days. If he didn't keep his rifle loaded to stop someone from stealing it, it would walk right out the door.

Felicity listened to the old man, puzzled by what he was telling her, but amazed at what she was seeing on the front of the magic box. It was like the whole world was squeezed into the little box with a small glass window across the front. It was indeed something that could show a person the world away from the squatters. For Felicity, what she could see of that new world, it was a place she'd like to be a part of.

"My mama told me to always say thank you and pretty is as pretty does. So, thank you Mr. Sam. Maybe I'll see you the next time and you can tell me more about the magic box." said Felicity as she grasped the bag of goods, turned, and began to walk toward the exit door. After taking several steps, she turned, smiled, and widened her eyes. "Mr. Sam, thank you for the penny candy. That's the nicest thing anyone has done for me and my family." Smiling, she turned around, faced the open door, and walked out into the dying evening.

Once beyond the creaky boards on the bottom step, with bag dangling from her left hand, she focused on the end of the dirt road where it disappeared into the undergrowth. She always hated that part of the trip to ole Mr. Sam's. It scared her every time she ventured under the limbs and branches of the bushes and trees. She always envisioned the spiders hanging in the bushes waiting to drop on her as she passed through. Her imagination wasn't always her friend. Sometimes she was more her own enemy than those who might be waiting in the bushes or dropping from the trees.

She'd slowed her pace as she neared the end of the dirt road. The road which now became a path, sparked her fears of what might be lingering out of sight or dangling from trees. "Now I know there's nothing there!" she assured herself as she slowed her pace just long enough to lift the branch out of the way revealing her trail, her path she'd used earlier. "I know it's okay!" she told herself as she dropped the branch concealing her out of sight and beyond rescue. "Mama said there wasn't anything to be afraid of when there's good in your heart." she whispered.

"Nothing to be afraid of, nothing." she repeated.

"Mama says nobody wants a shanty town girl who has nothing to offer, nothing to give." she said as she moved cautiously through the undergrowth a step at a time. "Mama says not to think too highly of ourselves, but be content where we find ourselves.

It wasn't long until she came to the edge of shanty town. Just as the sun was dipping into the west, she crossed the unpaved road, turned down a deserted alley, and stopped at the red door. She'd made it home without any trouble just as mama had told her she would.

"See, I told you that if you have good in your heart you'll be okay no matter what your mind is telling you Felicity. And you know how your mind works. First, you'd be chased by dogs or bears or some imaginary creature that doesn't even exist, then, by the time you got back here, you'd be sweating and short of breath. I'm just telling you that that imagination of yours will get you in trouble. You mind my words young lady! You mark my words!" said her mother as she took the small bag containing the flour, butter, and the few pieces of penny candy to the other side of the front room where she would try to put something together for her little family.

Diggin' her hand in the bag, her mother looked surprised as she pulled out the three pieces of candy. Looking up in an accusatory manner, her face was flushed with rage. "Did you steal this candy?" she blurted out. "You know how I feel about stealing. If I ain't got the money, then I just don't have it, period. Now, look at me and tell me what you're doing with this candy in this bag!" she shouted as she threw the candy across the top of their small table in the center of the room.

"Better come on with the truth too! No lies or else I'll whack your behind!" she added.

Felicity turned and looked at the candy. At first, when the gift was dropped into the bag, she felt warm inside. She felt that someone was actually concerned about her. But, now, as her mother ranted and raved about the 4 pieces of hard sweet candy, she felt differently somehow. Was her mother so bitter about life that she couldn't accept a simple gesture from the ole man at the store? Maybe so, but there was no reason to act like it was stolen.

"No mama, I didn't steal the candy. I tell you this every time you send me to the store. The ole man, Mr. Sam, drops a few pieces of candy in all of the children's bags who come to get a few things. It's the way he is all the time. He's just has a kind heart, that's all." replied Felicity as she lowered her eyes as she stared at the pitiful pieces of cracked candy laying on the table before her.

"And just what makes you think he has a kind heart? Maybe it's something more than that. Maybe I need to go with you to the store the next time to see if he puts candy in my bag! What you think?" asked her mama as she twirled around to see what Felicity would say.

"Mama, it's not like that!" said Felicity as she gathered the small pieces of candy together in the center of the table. She knew her little sister would like a piece, but if it was all cracked up, it wouldn't look as nice.

"You know what I'm gettin' at?" questioned her mama as she walked across the floor and stopped beside of Felicity. She wanted her girls to grow up better than she did, but her attitude, her yelling, her assuming that every man was out for the same thing, was throwing cold water on Felicity's hopes and dreams.

"Mama, not everyone is bad. Not everyone is like that, mama!" countered Felicity as she slipped away from her mother's side and stood on the other side of the table.

"Well, it's a strange thang to me that you have all the answers! What makes you think that he's any different than your daddy was? If you ask me, they're all alike, a bunch of dogs! That's all I got to say about it. Now, you give me those pieces laying there and get your self and the others ready to eat. I'm not lettin' you go down the same road I did. I'm not goin' to do it, not this time!" shouted her mama as she turned back around with candy pieces in hand. Opening the front door of the coal stove, she tossed the candy into the stove, slamming the door shut.

"Now, get on with what I told you to do! Now get!"

Chapter

2

Biscuits and Gravy

Few words were exchanged at the small cramped table where Felicity, her sister, and her mama gathered for dinner. There was two children and their mother gathered to have biscuits and water gravy again. The fact that each of the girls worn the exact same flour sack dresses only added to the reality that they were dirt poor.

It wasn't that Felicity wasn't grateful to have a mama who did what she could, no, it was the fact that her mama was so critical of every person she'd ever known in her life. Life isn't a bed of roses, but the way her mama talked, no body was good, no body meant anyone well, and all the men out there were out for one thing. For Felicity, that part of her mama she hated. Hated it a lot.

"Y'all come on now set yourselves down. Are your hands clean?" she asked the children who all glared at their hands before answering the question.

"Yes, mama." they responded in unison.

Whether they were clean or not, there wasn't much need to get up and go outside to the rain barrel to wash up. The water in the barrel had set there for some time, long enough that some small wiggly things swam to the top. They looked like caterpillars, just a whole lot smaller. It was a good thing that some of the fresh rain water was put into small buckets and set in the back room. Otherwise, there wouldn't be any water safe enough to drink or for use for making gravy.

"Now, let's give grace before we eat. At least we can be thankful for what we got, right?" asked their mama as she prompted each of the little girls to fold their hands in preparation for blessing the food.

"Just because we're poor ain't no reason not to be thankful. Who knows tomorrow we might not have nothing! Now, let's be thankful!" she ordered as she bowed her head to say grace.

All the time Felicity had her head bowed, she couldn't help but think of the magic box and the pictures of the world she wanted to see. She was grateful for the biscuits and gravy, but out there in the other world, no one ate biscuits and gravy every day. From what see could remember, there were cars and restaurants and pretty dresses to see. From what see could see, it was completely different from her world, from their world trapped in time forever surrounded by other squatters.

"Mama."

"No talking at the table." her mama instructed.

"But Mama."

"I said no talkin' at the table. We're here to be grateful, to eat." mama snapped.

Felicity didn't make any other attempts to share what she'd seen at the market store, the magic box. She waited until all the biscuits and gravy was gone, plates removed, and things put away before she felt like it would be acceptable to talk.

Once the plates and small bowls were rinsed, dried, and put away, Felicity felt as though she'd earned the right to speak. It was as if she was expected to do everything for everyone since she was the oldest. And, for the last two years, that had been the case. Her mama shoved almost everything in her direction leaving mostly just the cooking and sewing and ironing. Her mama told her since she was the one bringing all the money in someone else would have to help carry the load.

The family's shanty was two rooms, a front room and the back room. It was built out of throw away tin and pieces of boards left at a nearby construction site. Felicity's father wanted to take ownership of the small piece of property that the shanty set on. Time passed, he met another woman, and he left Felicity's mother with two little girls to raise. He said something about they'd all be okay or something like that as he slammed the door shut behind him. Felicity knew for sure that her mama had never got over that. At night she can hear her mama sobbing over across the room from her platform bed.

The backroom had just enough room for the beds and a narrow walkway between them. In this small dirty and cramped room, Felicity dreamed of another life, another world, and maybe someone special for her who would take her away from the squatters village.

With dinner over, the little girls all huddled on the floor mat near the small stove. It served two purposes. It warmed the house and it provided a place for her mama to prepare food. The only thing that was not useful was the ashes and the smoke. But, every shanty had a stove just like the one in Felicity's place. No one was any better off than the next.

Chapter

3

Another World

Huddled on the floor mat, the little girls held one another as if their lives depended on it. Their mama was a strict disciplinarian, and with limited space, there wasn't room for house play. The evenings were short lived and as soon as the sun died, a couple of candles were lit to provided the only light in the house. It was by the light of the candles that Felicity read to her younger sister. The books were not new or fancy and many didn't have all of their pages. Each book was soiled and tattered, but at least a few stories were salvaged hidden inside. Every evening as soon as the candle was lit, Felicity found a story between the pages of the throw-away books.

"Now we have to settle down, remain quiet, and listen. That's how we become part of the stories, we become part of the characters they're talking about." stated Felicity as she had each time she set down and faced the younger girl who was eager for her to begin the reading.

"Felicity, can you read about the green frogs and the rainbow after the rain? I like that story. The frog is funny." stated the next oldest in the brood.

"Yeah, I like that story." the younger chimed in as she wiggled and giggled.

"Alright now, we must calm down before the candle burns all the way down and we have to go to bed. That's what happens, right?" asked Felicity as she pointed to the slender candle on the table behind the floor mat.

Once the excitement settled down and the younger girl was snuggled closer to her, Felicity opened the cover of the first book, licked her finger, and turned to the next page. It wouldn't be long before the pages came alive with animals or birds or some other animated character to delight the child at least for one more evening.

About halve way through the first story, Felicity's mama moved closer to the smaller group to hear what the stories were all about, why the children became so silent. It was at that moment that she realized the way her older daughter brought the characters and their story to life. Felicity had read well and knew how to place the right emphasis on the right words to bring the cat she was reading about to life.

Puss in Boots was originally a French fairy tale first published in 1697 in a book written by Charles Perrault. Over the years it was changed some, but the original emphasis remained the same. With each page, the story about the 'cato' was even more exciting. It entertained the children just as the green frog or the slithering snake story. For Felicity it was a moment of enlightenment. For her mama, it was an opening of a door that could, in the future, take her Felicity away from her. She couldn't bare being left again. Therefore, she set about to discourage any further possible references to Felicity becoming a writer. Over the pass couple years, her mama found scraps of papers where her oldest wrote what could be considered the beginnings of a book. In fact, Felicity was extremely talented. She possessed a talent that would change her life if she pursued it. She'd mentioned it several times in passing, but her mama didn't encourage it at all.

"Okay, that's all for this evening. The candle's slowly burning down and will be out in a few minutes. Now, hurry off to bed. I'll try to finish the story tomorrow evening if I can." announced the oldest as she placed a thin piece of paper between the folds of the book to keep her spot. Sighing and unfolding her legs, the younger girl struggled to get up and march off toward the dividing space leading to the beds. She regretted leaving Puss in Boots, but she knew he'd be okay until the next day. Giggling the younger girl slipped out of sight around the door facing giggling all the way.

Watching with reproach, Felicity's mother felt that left unattended, the story time could yield something more that just giggles. For her, her world was one of control and inflexibility. For her, there weren't any fairy tales or fictitious animals possessing human characteristics. For Mama Craft, there wouldn't be a knight in shining armor or some prince in some far off land. For her, there would only be the hollow emptiness deep down in her soul for a man she'd loved all of her life. He left her alone and the loneliness was smothering her to death.

If she wasn't watchful, Felicity would slip away into another world beyond the moss-covered oat trees in their southern Alabama shanty town. There would be another world for her children, but for now, she protected them, held them close, even to the point of controlling their every move and thought. What choice did she have, she had no one. They were all she had.

Chapter

4

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Discipline was known through out the south to be swift and deadly. There weren't any pleases or thank yous or timeouts. No, for the children living beneath the Oak umbrellas, the slightest word misspoken or given in the wrong tone would earn an ole time beating. That was the way of the shanty mamas, most of whom were single mothers struggling to make ends meet.

Once the younger child were asleep, Felicity crept back into the front room where her mother was getting started ironing some of the clothes dropped off my the errand boy earlier in the day. She'd iron a lot of them, but the remainder in the basket still needed tended to before she could go to bed."

"Set that flat iron on the top of the stove over there. I got to get these last things ironed before I can go to sleep." she ordered as she turned to face her oldest daughter.

"Yes, mama. Is there anything else I need to help you with? The baby is asleep." she conveyed as she placed the flat iron, a cast iron flat piece of metal with an attached handle on the top of the stove.

The years following the deep depression kept everyone on their toes to catch a bite to eat much less having anything extra. The hard times weren't over by no means, but Felicity's mama made it a point to make an issue of it every time the two were together.

With flat iron in hand, her mama pressed the outer sides of the blouse first. Then, without stopping, she pressed the front and back, then the sleeves. It was a process. The whole thing about ironing was there was a process as to how to do the job and do it correctly. If done correctly, it didn't take much time, but if one didn't follow the rules, the basket full of blouses would end up a mess.

"Come over her and hang these blouses on the hangers the women sent with the basket of clothes. You know she likes them just so. And, you also know if I don't do it right, she'll find someone else to do her ironing." lamented mama as she pointed to the hangers laying on front room table.

"Yes mama." replied Felicity as she reached for the hangers.

Placing the blouse on the hanger, buttoning the top button when she was finished, she stood back to admire the material, the artistry that went into making the fine blouse of Mrs. Farrington, one of the more wealthier families living on Hampton Road. Once she'd finished placing the garment on the hanger, she hung the blouse, a white one made of pure Egyptian cotton blouse, on the small rail mounted near the front door. All of the clothes were hung there when her mama finished ironing them. It was convenient for the errand boy and for her mama.

"Mama, tell me again how you come 'bout gettin' the ironing job. I like to hear it, please. It's a nice story. One I'd like to write some time when I'm older." requested Felicity as she turned to listen to the tale of two worlds colliding.

"Felicity, ain't you heard that ole story enough? I mean, really. I've told it to you every time you've helped me hang clothes. And what do you mean you'd like to write it down? For what? What good reason could you ever have for writin' down that silly story?" asked her mama as she sneered and turned back to the hot flat iron.

"I'm just sayin' people pay good money for stories like that one. A story that touches their heart means a lot to those out there beyond the umbrellas." she offered for her mama's consideration.

A silence grew between them, something that would eventually tear them apart. But for now, it was simply a moment of silence where both gathered their thoughts, took their positions. The subject of other lives, other places, the thought of moving on choked her mama. She'd been in the shanties so long that the mere thought of prying up the boards or taking down the tin roof caused her to become ill. No, moving was out of the question. And besides, where would they move to. None of them were able to work outside the shanty. None of them were formally educated, so what would be point of talking about any of the stories her mama had told her during their shared times together.

"Mama, I know you don't like to talk about the story, but all of your stories mean a lot to me. I like listening. It's like I write them down in my heart, on my soul so I can read them over and over in the dark hours of the night when the shanty town is quiet. It's like I see the whole thing. The people, the way they talk, the way they look, and how I would like to write them on paper. You know, to sell them someday." Felicity said as she turned to look at her mama in the dimming flickering candle light.

It wasn't a big request, rather a simple one. But for her mama, anything dealing with the world out from under the umbrellas was uncomfortable, threatening. It was outside the protection of the umbrellas that she met her husband, Madison Craft. He wasn't at all what she expected him to be and she refused to discuss any of the story with anyone including her children. Her life was her life, good or bad, it was her life.

"Mama, well, will you tell me the story again, please. I do so like the part where she asked you to help her out. That really stuck in my mind, the feeling I got and everything seems so real. So, would you just this one last time?" asked Felicity as she held her hands up against her face as if she were in prayer.

"Stop that girl!" insisted her mama. That's bordering on sacrilege."

The word wasn't familiar to Felicity, but it must've meant something very important for her mama to use such a big word. She never used big words unless it was a very important thing or a very important point she was trying to make. Felicity never knew what the word meant and her mama didn't take time to explain. To her, it simply meant for her to stop doing what she was doing or else.

"Okay Felicity, I'll tell you the story, but this is going to be the very last time I tell you. So, you better take it all in, write it down in your heart and soul as you said you do. I'm going to forget the story after I'm done. Besides, it don't mean nothing anyway, plain nothing." her mama insisted.

Poised on the brink of a journey beyond the umbrellas, Felicity settled back on one of the short wooden stools to listen to a her mama tell her tale about meeting a women who'd never seen a shanty much less been in one. For her mama, it was a meeting that changed her life forever. A meeting that would, if found out about, change all of their lives forever.

"I've always told you Felicity that you are to do as I say, not as I do. Do you know why I tell you that again and again? Do you understand what I mean by telling you how to act or what to do?" asked her mama before she was to begin to tell the tale of the meeting out from under the umbrellas.

"Yes mama, I think I do. It think you're trying to tell me to make the right choices, to be careful what I say and do so that I won't make a lot of mistakes. Is that 'bout right, mama? Is that what you're telling me?" Felicity inquired as she turned to look at her mama's face shining in the candlelight.

"Well, let's just say I've made some mistakes that I don't want you and your sister to make that's all. When I made those mistakes, I was a young stupid girl looking for love. And I can tell you this much, there's no such thing as love out there, out from under the umbrellas. It's a world of hate, envy, and illusions. You hear me Felicity? The only thing you see that's real is here in the shanties. Here life is real, hard but real."

"But mama, you always tell us that God is love and he'll make a way. Ain't that what you tell us. You tell us to wait and have faith. So, what are you tell me now?" asked Felicity as if her faith in her mama had been shaken.

"I'm just saying that life is full of people making mistakes. No one has all the answers. So, yeah, I tell you to pray and have faith. You know why? Because that's all we got baby, that's all we got."

For a moment, the candle light seemed to dim casting shadowy figures off the walls of the two room shanty. Was it because her mama, who'd been bottling up all of her hatred for some many years was about to tell her the story again. She didn't think so. Felicity could tell there was more to the expression on her mama's face than distress, much more.

Chapter

5

Dreamer's Dreams

As Felicity set and listened to her mother tell her tale, she could feel the air around her, the breeze pushing up against her face, the hard sidewalk surface under her feet. Her mama was talking about the city, the huge city sidewalks beyond the protective walls that kept the 'shanties' out and the elites in. It was as if there were two world, one inside, the other outside.

"I wasn't in any hurry to get back to the shanty." admitted her mama. "But your daddy insisted that we not linger too long in the streets. It wasn't a place for shanty people he said. In fact, he kept telling her that they could get picked up or arrest at anytime without any cause. Don't know so much about that now, here these many years later. But at that time in my youth, I had very little understanding of the world beyond the umbrellas. Your daddy was a man from the east coast of the country. I met him one night near the crossover between this world and that. He talked kind, sweet, and said he'd never seen someone like me before. Was it the truth? Who knew! But, his words fell upon my heart in such a way that I couldn't turn away. He knew what to tell me, the words I needed to know. Felicity, it was the first time a man ever talked to me so kind. It wasn't long after that that he insisted we go to the city so that I could see the world where he came from. I wasn't really interested and he knew that from the start. But to satisfy him, I went. We weren't married at the time, but might as well have been. He loved me, or so he said. That word, love, is a powerful four letter word. That word pushed me into making some stupid decisions, wrong choices." admitted her mother as she placed the flat iron back on the top of the stove.

"But mama, you said we all make mistakes. That's what you tell all of us. So, we all make some stupid decisions, right?" asked Felicity as she struggled to follow her mother's story. This time the story took on a different tone, a different meaning, one that was affecting her mama differently than all the other times.

"It wasn't right of me but your daddy told me things I wanted to hear. So, before long, he made his way under the umbrellas to spend a few nights a week with me. That was way before any of you children came along. I was just turning 19. The life I imagined wasn't anything like the life he promised me. He told me that he had enough money so I could leave the shanties, but there wasn't any money, no kept promises." mama said as she lifted the heated flat iron, cressed the collar just as Mrs. Farrington had instructed, then placed it back on the stove top.

The story Felicity was hearing wasn't at all what she'd asked her mama to tell her. Her mama was drawn back into her own world, her own youth where things went wrong. The anguish on her face told its own story of betrayal. As the words spilled out, Felicity knew that maybe she shouldn't have asked to hear the story again. Maybe it might have been better to have been satisfied with the times she'd heard it before. At least, the time before weren't colored with tears and a sad voice trailing off into almost a sob.

"Mama, you okay?"

"Yes baby, I'm okay."

"I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I know baby, it's not your fault. It's the world beyond the umbrellas that has destroyed my soul.

Not knowing what to think about the comment, Felicity simply set straight up and waited for her mama's instruction as to what to do or say. It was the first time that her mama said something like that to her. Maybe it was the fact that she was 13 now, more mature for her age than others. Maybe it was time for her mama to tell her pain, her betrayal, to get it off of her chest. She didn't know, but what she did know was that there was more to the story than a rich women wanting someone to iron her clothes.

"Felicity, I don't want to talk about this anymore tonight. I know the story means a lot to you, but I just can't. I'm sorry baby, maybe another time." insisted her mama as she lifted the end of her blouse up to her face, wiped the tears away, and took a deep breath.

The two were at an impasse. Felicity wanted to know the real story, but her mama wasn't going to divulge the truth behind the simple job of ironing clothes for ole Mrs. Farrington. From what Felicity could understand, the meeting with her daddy wasn't everything that went on during that excursion out from under the umbrellas. The meetings at the crossroads between the city and the shanties was definitely not the whole story. And, for Felicity, a smarter than average young girl, the truth about her daddy was buried under the truth about her mother. For her to ever hear the truth, she'd have to do her own digging, her own investigation into the world beyond the umbrellas.

"Remember what I tell you my sweet Felicity, do as I say, not as I have done." her mama instructed as she finished the last of the blouses, hung them on the hangers, and placed them on the small rod beside the front door.

"The errand boy will be by early in the morning. Let's get to bed." ordered her mama as she placed the flat iron on the rocky floor under the stove where it wouldn't be any danger of anything catching fire. Motioning for Felicity to latch the front door, she turned to walk toward the back room with Felicity not far behind.

"We need to rest. Tomorrow is a new day and we need to make the most of it if we can." added her mama as she slipped her hand-made night gown made from flour sacks over her head and let it drop straight down. "Mrs. Farrington will send the errand boy to pick up her blouses early. That'll give us some free time to work on something else. Besides, she's sending the pay too." she smiled a shallow smile and pinched it off before it grew across her face.

"Okay, mama. Good night then." whispered Felicity as she slipped around behind the low pallet-like beds that rested on the floor. They weren't comfortable, just a place to sleep. The younger girl slept in the bed nearest the wall so that Felicity could get up earlier to help her mama. It was her mama's way of introducing her to chores. Tomorrow wouldn't be any different that all the other mornings as far as she could tell.

As Felicity laid her head on her pillow and pulled the patchwork blankets up around her face, she couldn't help but feel an uneasiness between her and her mama. The story went all wrong this evening. The story she always loved to hear somehow took a wrong turn and collided with the truth.

The truth is a rare commodity in a world filled with fake people. When the truth surfaces, it brings the confessing soul to its knees where tears are shed, where a solace is applied.

Resting on her pallet-like bed, Felicity wanted so badly to understand where the story went she loved to listen to during the evenings. She struggled to hear the voice within her as it retold the story over and over, but there wasn't any reprieve for her mama's reaction. At no time in the past did her mama cry. She often stopped while she was telling the story to take a sip of water to wet her whistle, as she called it, but never cried. It's the tears that worried Felicity.

Slipping off into dreamland, Felicity's mind took on a whole new view of the world. No longer was she a prisoner under the umbrellas, no, she was free.

Chapter

6

When Dreams Come

Turning on the pallet-like bed so that her back was facing the younger girl, Felicity pondered the 'story' her mama tried to tell her earlier in the front room seated beside the warm stove. Candlelight isn't much, but all of them had grown accustomed to them. There wasn't any electricity in their part of the world, that was reserved for those in the city. The first story wasn't at all like the one she was upset about. No, the first one, at least the first time she heard it, it was kind and conveyed warm feels about a wealthy woman who felt compassion for a shanty resident and offered her an ironing job to help her out. The first was not as explosive as the one she'd just heard, nor was it emotionally charged as the newest one. The mystery had been presented. The investigation would take time, but Felicity knew that somewhere in the house there was a remnant of the story lingering in a drawer or crack in the wall or under the pallet-like beds they occupied. And if she found the key to the mystery, would she be allowed at present it to her mama? Would the answer cause too much distress, too much grief. If it had the same emotionally charged memories, then it's perhaps better left in the drawer or under the beds.

For now, with candles dimming, the little girl, soon to become a sleuth, would fall off to her dream world where her imagination wasn't tethered to the earth nor her mama. Everything was possible in her escape from make shift shanties under the umbrellas.

Rolling back and forth, moaning, Felicity found herself in a world she wasn't familiar with in her dreams. There was a creature that resembled a horse, but it wasn't a horse pulling a piece of metal that turned the earth over as it passed through. This dream was different, interesting. It took her to a different time and place filled with different people. There was a sense of urgency in the dream, a sense of needing to get things done for the people that lived in her mind as the dream unfolded...

... At times, there are memories that set themselves apart from the causal ones, those that reoccur from day-to-day. Living at a place where we grew up Felicity, her dad tilled the land (or he hired a person to do it) there was a patch of dirt from the house, a patch of about 2 acres. The method he used, or hided someone to use, involved a horse or mule, and a plow. It wasn't anything fancy, definitely nothing up-to-date as the world would see it today. A horse or mule and plow with a man to yell ("gee" generally means turn right, while "haw" means turn left.) was all it took to get the good earth turned and ready for planting.

"Do you see the fresh earth Felicity, do you see it? In those turned over earth rows we'll plant our seeds. We do it every year." said a whispering voice in her ear.

Leaving the back breaking work after the plowing called sod-bustin', to be done that would take some time by the older men of the day. Living there on the piece of our own land, we were given instruction that required application, a hands-on approach that meant getting our hands dirty. There wasn't any setting back and letting someone else do it. Perhaps we didn't 'bust all the sod', but we gave it our best shot.

"Hey look Felicity, here's my brothers, my older brother, me, and my younger brother, learning the value of the land and developing 'character', as we were told. Come one now, let's have so fun!" announced the imaginary boy in the dream about someone plowing and planting a garden.

"There wasn't anything like (I don't want to do it or I'm not into this) stuff." he shouted as he picked up pitchfork to begin the work of busting dirt.

"Come on now, we may be children but we're required to do our part, not the greater part of preparing the land for planting. We got to do what we can do with what we got." instructed the younger boy as he grabbed a spade and started down the rows of freshly turned earth.

"A spade, a mattock, and a pitch fork were friends helping us get the job done. Mostly, my dad and the gee-haw man did a far greater portion to turn the land and get it ready for planting. We're here to observe, do what we could, and remember the lessons being taught. Now come on, help us out!" order the energetic little boy who was ready to tackle the world with one hand.

... Felicity twisted a moment, pulled herself out of the field where the mule or horse was being used to plow the earth. The dreamer didn't visit long, missing pieces, expressions, comments all blended together to create a choppy experience at best, but one she would remember long enough to write it down on her few scraps of paper hid under her mattress. It was on the small pieces of paper that the young girl living under the umbrellas first got her idea that she could write.

As a dreamer, she had many dreams, sometimes two or three a night. Some haunted her, others made her smile. It would be her job to select the best ones for her collection, hide them away from mama, and secretly read them over and over. There was no tellin' what might be ahead for her and her dreams, her stories.

"Felicity, you alright?" asked her mama from the pallet-like bed next to her.

It wasn't unusual for Felicity to toss and turn or roll over during the night, but sometimes, it was excessive causing her mama to become concerned. Was there something bothering her little girl? Had someone said something to her to insult her? Had someone touched her inappropriately? There was always that possibility, always that chance in the shanties under the umbrellas. There was no tellin' what was possible and for that reason, her mama watched her girls like a hawk. For her mama, her little girls was all that was left of a world she once knew. That world was not a fairy tale, but she'd lived on a promise that was never kept.

"Yes mama, I'm okay. Just having a dream that's all." she responded in a melancholy manner so as to not upset her mama anymore than she already was from the telling of the story in the front room.

"You and your dreams, Felicity. What am I going to do with you?" asked her mama as she turned with her back facing Felicity signaling the discussion was over.

"Good night mama." whispered the little girl as she drifted back off into her dream world where she'd met people she didn't know and see places she'd never imagined.

.... The second dream was by far the more clearer. In fact, it was so real that she didn't know if she was dreaming or not dreaming.

..."It opened with a vision of an early afternoon on the hilly path. Felicity felt a chuckle push its way from deep within her. As she faced the landscape, there were 6 houses spread spaciously apart. None of which would meet the standards of the more wealthy or affluent. The dirt road that led to the houses was just wide enough for one of those cars to get through between the vines and bushes growing along side the embankment.

When she looked, she could see the first of several nightly visitors riding in the truck or car bobbing up and down like popcorn in a popper.

"Most of the time we stay home with mom who stirs our imagination as best she could." commented the first dream world person to step close enough to speak with her.

"And who are you?" she asked and turned to face the young boy who would be her tour guide through her second dream.

"It's not really important who I am. It's more important who you are Felicity. It's more important who you are." after disclosing his secret, the point at the other characters along for the hunt. She furrowed her brow, but kept her questions to herself.

"There's not much to do, but with a little encouragement, we often exit the house that was build directly beside the road over there, and began our adventures down the rocky, pitted road at the bottom of the steps. There aren't any bikes, just a good pair of shoes." said the young boy as he pointed to his feet adorned with what looked like brand new sneakers.

"Okay, let's start off down the sloping road to a familiar turn in the road out of mom's sight that always delivered some excitement. I think you'll like it a lot. All the kids like coming here." encouraged the boy with the new sneakers as he waited for Felicity to catch up.

"Wow, can you feel that afternoon's sun against your neck? It's about to give me a sunburn.

The three sojourners made the turn and eventually stopped at the small, but inhabited mountain stream that puddled beside the road. It ran down to the road, then disappeared under the roadway only to reappear further down the mountainside. It was in this trickle of a stream that Felicity, for the first time, plundered the "Crawdad's" domain. Turning one rock over after another, eventually we discovered the prizes, small, but vicious defenders of their home. Each crawdad turned and backed away with pincers upturned ready to deliver a fatal pinch if we dared to come closer. Thankfully, the new friend was aware of these deadly creatures and offered his instruction as to how she should handle them.

"Pick them up from behind the head." he'd told the others.

His warning was noted, but even with the greatest caution, the creatures still latched onto one of one of the other visiting spirit's finger. It was nothing short of terrifying. With the claw's death grip firmly attached to the little boy's finger, he slung his hand back and forth until he was rid of the dreadful demon.

"In your mind Felicity, keep the vision!" he instructed her.

Luckily, it loosened its claw's grip and fell back into the shallow stream puddle never to be seen again! Having endured the pain of the claw, the attack of one of the vilest creatures he'd encountered up until that point, the heat of the sun, and escaped with their very lives, the three visiting spirits trudged back up the dirt road to their house.

"Don't forget Felicity, these dreams mean something to you. Never give up. Always keep your dream alive!" shouted the her new friend from the dream that soon faded from her leaving her awake and staring at the ceiling.

... She wasn't exactly sure how to take the echo in her head. The voice of the boy she'd just spoke with deep within her mind. For, to assume that he was real would be a cause for concern. Dreams are not real not matter how many tears flow down your face and dampen the pillows where you sleep. Dreams are fanciful whispers in the late hours of the night portraying the inner most desires of the dreamer's mind.

Pulling up the tattered flour sack blankets, Felicity fell asleep once more and entered into yet another world beyond the shanties under the umbrellas.

Chapter

7

New Week-New Hope

Each day we're given an opportunity. This opportunity, one that's intangible but real, can change lives, fill those who are empty with hope, and set one's ship of life on a better course. The opportunity given to each of us is called "choice." When the clock strikes twelve midnight, for a fraction of a second, time is reset so that we can begin anew. The old day pass into eternity, the new day begins. It brings with it a chance and a choice to do things differently, to do them better. Will we make a change? Can we make a change? And if so, what with the decision be? What will be the consequences of those decisions? Hopefully, the passing of our days have taught us lessons. Perhaps it opened our eyes a little wider so we can see a little clearer. Maybe the sorrow of last our last cry taught us to love more intensely, to given unbegrudgingly, and cherish each second as if it were our last. Is it a foregone conclusion that we will make the right choices? That would be an unfounded assumption. Therefore, as with any opportunity given to us, we make the decisions. As we take daily possession of our new opportunity, let us remember it too will pass leaving us with the associated consequences.

"Felicity, get the your girl up and make sure she's dressed before breakfast. Hands clean too!" yelled her mama from the front room as she finished stirring the water gravy pouring it into a cracked bowl. "Y'all come on now. I got things to do today. The errand boy will be by in a few minutes with a whole new basket of clothes to iron. Come on now!"

Rustling around in the front room, her mama was in some type of urgent mood for some reason. There wasn't nothing to do or no where to go or no one to see, so what was the big deal? Her mama only got like this when she had a few dollars in her pocket from the week's ironin'. Today, Mrs. Farrington would send her her money with the new basket of clean clothes. That must be the big deal. Felicity was quiet sure, but she figured it out some time ago. On her paydays, her mama took the little girls through the bushes, under the umbrellas, and down the dirt road leading to the store, ole Mr. Sam's store. Today, the two children and their mama would visit the mercantile. Today Felicity would be able to show her mama the magic box.

"Y'all come on now. Let's get this over and done with before the errand boy shows up. I know he's on his way. He'll be here before we know it!" said her mama as she twirled around just as there was a knock on the door.

"Told you! There he is!" exclaimed her mama as she walked briskly toward the front door, opened it allowing the errand boy, one of the shanty town children, to come in. He placed the full basket of clothes on the side table near the door, handed Felicity's mama an envelope, turned and took the blouses that were brought over last week.

"Mrs. Farrington said she appreciates you ironing for her." conveyed the young man who couldn't have been more that 15 at most.

"She says you're a very nice woman." he added as he released the envelope into Felicity's mama's hand. In the shanties, no one set around waiting on their good fortune to land in their laps. It was a desperate time for desperate people. Felicity's family was one of many families struggling from day-to-day to make ends meet under the umbrellas.

"Okay, let's finish up and clear the dishes." insisted her mama as she pulled a wash pan out from under the side table, placed the dishes in it, and poured water in it to let the dishes soak until she got back from ole Mr. Sam's store. Nothing worse than dried gravy. If it's not soaked, it has be be scratched off. Soaking was much easier.

Once the dishes were soaking properly in the wash pan, she lined the children up shortest to tallest, side by side to take a look at them. She knew it wasn't like going to church, but their appearance reflected what type of mama she was to her kids. Dirty clothes, dirty faces, torn spots on the flour sack hand-made dresses told everyone that that woman who gave birth to her children didn't really care about them. It was the way it was in the south.

"Now, let's see." muttered Felicity's mama as she checked each of the little girl's appearance. Handing the second one a hair brush could only meant one thing. And, once the message was understood, the little girl leaned forward, brushed her hair vigorously, and handed the brush back to her mama.

"Now, I think were ready." announced their mama as she too took the brush to her own hair making sure it was presentable. "Who knows what people would think of me if I let y'all go out looking any type of way. They'd be spreading gossip all over shanty town that I'm a sorry mama." she added.

After one last look at the printed flour sack dresses, their mama nudged them toward the door. "It's time to go." she stated as she unlatched the front door, opened it completely, and ushered the children out onto the dirt road leading to the end of the lane where the path disappeared into the forest.

Pulling the tin door together and latching it wasn't any assurance that the shack would be safe from intruders. It wasn't unheard of to come home and everything be stolen. It wouldn't be the first time. For Felicity and her little family, she had to depend on the decency of the Shanty Town families to keep to themselves and out of other people's shacks. Besides, no one was wealthy or had anything different that the others. Everyone was poor, dirt poor. What possibly could someone want from people who had nothing?

Having pulled the latch across the door and secured it with the metal pin, Felicity's mama gathered her brood much like a hen would gather her chicks. "I'm taking y'all because I don't want to have Felicity babysit an almost grown child. She has enough to do as it is keeping the place straight." announced her mama as she nudged the younger girl forward in front of her and Felicity.

It wasn't really the truth, but Felicity appreciated her mama at least acknowledging the fact that she tried to do her best around the shack. And, for her to admit it, well, that was completely unexpected. Looking over toward her mama, Felicity couldn't help but think that her change in disposition might have something to do with the story she tried to tell her the other evening. Her mama had been acting strangely ever since the two set together to share the story. It wasn't the same since that time. Her mama was more withdrawn as if she had something more to say but was ashamed to let it out. It was a nagging sore for her mama. She knew it. And, as far as she knew, there wouldn't be any relief until she spilled all the beans, confessed whatever was bothering her, and reached some type of resolution.

Down the road away from the shacks, the dirt road narrowed into a path. It disappeared under the bushes, mysteriously hiding what hid within. "You know what I told you children. There's nothing in the bushes or the trees that will harm you. So, form a straight line and follow me." instructed their mama as she pulled the low-hanging branches up to allow the children to enter the shadowy world under the umbrellas.

Snaps and cracks were heard all around them, but not a single venomous snake or green-eyed varmint stared at them through the dense undergrowth. Mostly just birds chirping and a croak of a big frog could be heard from the bogs way to the west of the path. Their mama didn't expect anything different. It was the children who were petrified and clung close to her apron.

"Y'all see. There ain't nothing here to be afraid of just like I told you. 'Sides, Felicity comes through here every time I send her to the store and she's never seen nothin'. Ain't that right Felicity?" her mama asked hoping she provided the addition persuasion needed to convince the other girl to relax. She was holding on to their mama's apron so hard that she could possibly pull it off of her.

"Y'all step back a minute!" she ordered. "Y'all 'bout to tear my clothes off."

Pulling her hands off of her apron, their mama straightened herself, flattened the wrinkles, and told the little girls to stay behind her until they exited out from under the undergrowth onto the dirt road.

"I don't want to show up at ole Mr. Sam's with my clothes torn half off. What kind of impression would he get? He'd think I don't care about myself or you kids if I look just any way." she added to justify why she wanted them to let her clothes go.

Pointing at the younger child, she instructed her to stay behind her and Felicity. Felicity was bringing up the rear so the little girl would walk between them. At least it would appear that they were protected from the wild beast in the undergrowth with piercing red-hot eyes. Of course the red-hot eyes were never seen nor were the snakes that hung in the trees, but for the younger girl, they might as well have been real.

"Come on now, hurry it up!" ordered their mama as she turned to see them slagging behind, staring into the bushes and up into the trees.

"Come along now baby. Let's not get mama upset. She's here to protect us if anything should happen. 'Sides, she's been through these bushes more times that we can count, me too. There ain't nothing here to hurt us!" she explained as she too looked around hoping that what she was saying was the truth.

Within moments of the encouraging speech, their mama pushed the last branch out of the way and ushered her children out into the sunlight. "Now, was that all that bad? Nothing jumped out to get us!" laughed mama as she reached out to pull her little ones to her. "It's alright! Now, let's get about our business."

Chapter

8

Magic Box

As the Craft family neared the mercantile, they could hear ole Mr. Sam singing. This was new. No one knew that ole Mr. Sam could even hold a note. Standing on the bottom step, mama clearly heard ole Mr. Sam offer up a timeless rendition of one of the oldies of his era. Something 'bout God Bless the Children originally sung by Billie Holiday could be heard as clearly as if they were standing in front of his counter.

"Let's let him finish. He must be feeling pretty good today. 'Sides, I like the song too." admitted mama as she stood of of his line of sight so ole Mr. Sam couldn't see her or her children.

Once done, ole Mr. Sam cleared his throat as if he were going to sing some other selection just as mama and the children opened the front door and entered the shop. Walking through the front towards the back of the store, mama and the girls spied several things that caught their attention. There were some new fangled things that served no purpose for mama, but a few she'd like to have. Regardless, her money was limited and her shopping list was short. It was always lacking a few needed items, but mama seemed to make things work back at the shanty.

"Don't touch nothing!" instructed mama as she moved closer to ole Mr. Sam who was standing behind the counter eyeing them as he always did when anyone came into his shop. Just because they were paying customers didn't mean he took his eyes off of them. It was a basic instinct to protect what was his. It wasn't personal by any long shot.

"If you break something, I ain't got no money to pay for it. So just look, don't touch!" she repeated.

Good morning mama Craft! How are you on this fine sunny morning? I see you have the whole brood with you today. Don't get to see all of them much. 'Sides 'City girl', I reckon it's been a good month or so wouldn't you say Mrs. Craft? Good they could come with you today." greeted ole Mr. Sam.

He slid off his stool, walked to the magic box, and turned it on. He did this deliberately to draw attention to his new gadget, his new toy. He wanted the people in his shop to want to come back to see the magic box, and of course, spend more money. Proudly he clicked the on/off button on the front of the box, waited until the screen warmed up, then adjusted the volume a bit, not too loud, nor too soft. The box would do what it always did. It would catch the imagination of the shoppers.

"Don't be talking all that sweet talk to me Mr. Sam. I know what you're gettin' at. You think you can talk me into buying something I don't want. I know how you is. Others under the umbrella, they say the same thing. Be careful of ole Mr. Sam. He'll sell just 'bout all he's got if he gets a hankering'. Mine you Mr. Sam, I know all 'bout you and your silly little ways. My children and I are not looking for nothin' special, nothin' we don't need. So just stop all that ya hear. I'll let you know what I want. Anyway, what's with all that noise coming from over there?" asked mama as she pointed to the magic box on the counter.

"Me and 'City Girl' already talked 'bout that when she was here the other day. Didn't she tell you 'bout my television?" asked ole Mr. Sam as she walked toward the magic box proudly admiring it himself. "It's the latest thing there is, especially out here in these parts. Ain't nobody got one but me, nobody! Took me a spell to get my pennies together, but there it is!" he pointed as if it was the greatest thing he'd ever seen in his life.

Felicity timidly shied away from the counter area of the store in fear that her mama may stare questioning her as to why she didn't mention the television or whatever it was making a whole lot of noise. As far as she was concerned, she rather not look or talk about the new fangled thing. It promised to show her things, other worlds, but when it came right down to it, it didn't deliver the escape she was looking for. It was true though that its magic was fascinating even mystical, but after everything was said and done, it was still a box, a new fangled box that didn't give the viewer anything but hopes and dreams. She had enough of those for already.

After Mr. Sam saw that Felicity's mama wasn't as interested in the magic box as he had anticipated, he flicked the off button down, and watched the screen go black. It wasn't at all the reaction he was expecting especially from Felicity's mama. She'd seen the bright lights of the city beyond, the asphalt roads, and the beautiful dresses. At one time, Mrs. Craft was more than just a shanty town survivor. For now, Mrs. Craft was just another throwaway girl from a time long before. For now, she was mama, and that was enough.

"Felicity round your sister up and let's get ready to go. I've got what I came for now. I'm not in the mood for any new fangled contraption or magic box that shows me things that I already know." admitted her mama as she turned around with a few things in her hands, a few pantry items to restock.

Pressing the small brood toward the front were their mama was getting ready to pay for her items, Felicity couldn't help but remember the comment her mama made about the magic box. What did she mean when she said it couldn't show her anything that she hadn't already seen. As far as Felicity knew, her mama had lived in the shanties all of her life. As far as she knew, the only time she'd been outside from underneath the umbrellas was the one time she met ole Mrs. Farrington and was offered the ironing job. So, what was this sudden insight, this revelation about her mama and what did it mean? What part of the story isn't her mama telling her? That was the question she'd have to find the answer to. But in doing so, she knew that she'd be sneaking into the part of her mama's life that she didn't want anyone to know. A part of her life that has been buried for 14 years. And, to find the right way in to that story may all rest on meeting Mrs. Farrington. It seemed odd for someone to offer a job to someone they didn't know, had never met, much less from the shanties. The story her mama needed to tell her was one that distressed her, saddened her, but it must be told.

"Gather your things now, we're 'bout to go!" announced mama as she finished paying ole Mr. Sam for the things she needed. It wasn't but bout four or five things, but for the family, much needed. Candles were always top priority that's for sure.

"Y'all got yourselves together? Now, thank Mr. Sam for his hospitality and let's get going." she ordered as she turned from the counter, gathered her children in front of her, and guided them to the door.

"But mama, what about the hard candy Mr. Sam always gives us?" asked the youngest with face upturned.

"Be quiet!" ordered mama.

"But!"

"I said be quiet!"

Very few words were spoken as the small group of meanders meandered through the undergrowth and back under the protection of the umbrellas. The trip, even though a brief one, resulted in opening a door into mama's past. For Felicity, she could see now that her mama was more than what she appeared to be.

Chapter

9

Butting In

A few days passed since the family trip came to an end, an abrupt end. It wasn't for Felicity to guess or wonder why the trip was cut short, but she could tell it had something to do with the magic box. Was it a song or melody or picture that caused her mama to react in such a negative way? The 'shanties' had been around ole Mr. Sam long enough to know not to pay attention to his ramblings, his innuendos. But for her mama to just up and drop everything she had intended on getting and settling for the four or five items she got, didn't make sense. It meant that she would have to have Felicity go back to the store sooner than she'd wanted to go.

"Let's get these few things put up." ordered mama as she handed the items to Felicity. "It'll do for now!" she added as she handed the last bag of flour across the table to her oldest.

"Mama, why you so upset? Did ole Mr. Sam say something he shouldn't have? I'll go straighten that out right now if he did!" insisted Felicity as she waited for some type of answer. "You always told us to take up for ourselves. So, if he's being nasty to you, well, I'll do what you taught me to do!" she stated.

"It ain't like that! It ain't like that at all Felicity. Ole Mr. Sam has always talk to me proper. He doesn't ask questions that he knows I'm not going to answer. It's the way it is here. People are suppose to mind their own business and keep out of others. The more you stick you nose where it don't belong, the more you're going to step in something you can wipe of your shoe. Now, let's get our things put up and set about gettin' the ironin' done. It ain't goin' iron itself. Now, come on. Set that iron on the stove. I'll have to stoke the fire a bit first before it'll be ready." summarized mama as she pointed first to the iron, then to the stove.

The routine hadn't changed since the first load of clothes had been sent from Mrs. Farrington. The same thing happens each time, the same instructions are given. Felicity knew them by heart. Mama just kept reminding her knowing full well it wasn't necessary.

With hangers in place, iron hot, and the ironing board standing awaiting the first garment, Felicity's mama took a deep breath, leaned down over the laundry bag, and pulled out the first of what would be many white cotton blouses with the letter 'F' embroidered on it. It was obvious. It was concealed inside of each of the garments. Should someone attempt to steal any of them, their legal owner could be immediately identified.

"Let's just get it done. You keep settin' the iron over on the stove when I tell you. Then, once I'm done with each one, hang them on the hanger, and put them on the rack. You know what we do. The same thing as always." Felicity's mama began the task of ironing the full bag of clothes as she'd done for the last 15 years. Even before "City Girl" came along, there was the ironing.

Chapter

10

Mama's Secret

Small hands touched the garments as if they were priceless Parisian couture designs. Softly caressing each fold, each button slowly, effortlessly slipped through its eye. In the dimly lit front room, there was no way everything could be seen, but mama, over the years, taught Felicity to see in the dim light.

"Mama, what you think Mrs. Farrington does? I mean, ya think she has a job somewhere?" Felicity asked as she finished hanging up another of the fine, customer-made blouses. "I mean, wouldn't she have to have a good job to buy these nice things? Just seems only right." she quizzed as she let her hand drop down the front of the expensive blouse.

"Now Felicity, it ain't our business to figure out what people do or not do. I'm not sure what Mrs. Farrington does or doesn't do. But, as long as she's a payin', well that's what matters, right?" asked her mama as she turned and handed her another blouse to be hung by the first one.

"I guess so mama. I guess so."

Fading evening's light fell under the drapes of variegated darkness as it unfolded along the dirt roads and alleys of Shanty Town. Long slender fingers of the uninvited intruder eclipsed the remaining threads of the prior day's promise, stealing its light casting it down.

Raising its victorious head, the night, like a deadly viper, slithered in and out of the alleyways effortlessly searching for its pray, the light. Once discovered, the defenseless light in its attempt to retain its ground, cowered away into any refuge it could find only to be caught hopelessly in the clutches of the unrelenting, unforgiving nightly death dealer.

Night had fallen.

Chapter

11

Once Opened

"Come on now, let's gather up the few remaining pieces of clothes. Put them in the bag over there and we'll finish it up tomorrow. It's too dark for me to see what I'm doin' right now. It's got too late." mama said as she hung the blouse she was had just finished on the hanger. "We'll get this done early in the morning 'cause the boy will be here early. Mrs. Farrington don't like things to be late. Now, come on and let's get ready for bed." mama ordered.

"But mama, it ain't no where's near bedtime. And, for a change, I thought you'd tell me the rest of the story 'bout you meeting Mrs. Farrington. You never did finish it the other night. Come on mama, just a few minutes. I'm not rightfully sleepy and neither are you. So, can you find a minute for me, mama?" pleaded Felicity as she slowly pulled the remaining blouses from the bag.

With the last heave, the final piece of clothing fell onto the table. In addition to the blouse, a small envelope landed face down on the cobblestone floor. Looking at the envelope, Felicity could see that it had a post mark and a stamp. She was paralyzed. If she leaned to pick it up, her mama would see her and take it from her. If she didn't pick it up and pretended she didn't see it, well, that would be no better. Whether caught in the act or caught in the pretense of not knowing, neither decision was a good one. Yet, a decision had to be made. Either pick it up and surrender it to her mama or she could keep it to herself. If she wanted to know what was in the letter, that would be the best course of action.

If left on the floor, then the revelation as to what the letter contained would forever be lost. Her mama would never divulge anything to her children no matter who the letter was from. Family values dictated that trust, above all, be honored between its members. If mama ever entrusted information to her children, it was for a good reason. Otherwise, the secrets remained secret even up until this moment.

This hadn't been the first time small envelopes dropped to the floor or were found between the blouses, but usually mama found them first and sped them away from sight. It happened maybe once every six months over the course of the last 14 years. But for Felicity, the mystery deepened, the need to understand who it was sending the envelopes grew stronger.

Therefore, with littler regard to whether she'd be caught with letter in hand, Felicity leaned forward, dropped the blouse she was holding over the letter, and snatched both the letter and blouse back up in her arms. Slipping the letter into her own clothing wasn't difficult and she concealed it well. But as for when she'd be able to read it without her mama seeing her, that was the problem.

"Felicity, make sure we have things in order so we can begin again in the morning. Stoke the fire now girl. It could get cool tonight." mama ordered none the wise the missing letter hidden away in Felicity's garments.

"But mama, we got time for some story-telling. Please mama, just a few minutes, please!" pleaded Felicity as she stuck the fire poker through the open door on the heating stove in the center of the front room. She stirred the hot embers until they glowed brilliant red. Once finished, she leaned the hot poker back against the side of the wall away from anything that might catch on fire.

Milling about around the front door, mama made sure the latches were secure knowing full well that if someone wanted in they could get it. The latched door wasn't security from being robbed, not in the shanties. Chances were the shacks broken into held nothing more than discarded trash, trinkets from garbage piles found along side the barrier separating the two worlds. But for the intruders, there was no way of knowing a trinket from a bobble.

"Come on Felicity, let's prepare for bed. I'm not up to story-tellin' this evening. I'm tired. It's been a long day for all of us." mama blurted out.

"But mama!"

"No buts girl, do as I tell you!"

"Yes mama."

Once the shack was secured, mama and Felicity joined the others in the backroom. The same routine, the same time of day, with little ritual or uniqueness. But, for Felicity, she hand the against her chest what could be the beginning of a new story. She needed to find a way to read it without her mama knowing she had it. And the only way to do that was to take it with her on the next trip to ole Mr. Sam's store. That's the only time she'd be alone long enough to find out what was in the envelope.

After slipping into her tattered nightshirt, Felicity pulled the covers up around her neck and prayed for a dream to take her away from the shack and the poverty. It was in her dreams that she could fly or right horses or sail on a boat. In her dreams, her life was anything she wanted it to become. She was free.

Slipping down under the blanket, Felicity soon found herself engaged in her dream world where fantasy became reality. She wouldn't trade it for anything and welcomed the last deep release of breath before awaking up in her imagination.

.....It's funny how some things stick in our minds and never go away, while others only visit or a minute then they're gone. Such is one of many experiences from back Felicity was about to conjure up within her overactive imagination. In her dreamworld, nothing was impossible.

There wasn't a lot for the two little boys in her dream to do during the summer months in the little community her mind had crated. No televisions or radios or any fancy things to keep the boys busy. School summer vacation was a time dreamed of while attending school, but once it was in our possession, neither of the imaginary boys could really find much to do to keep themselves business. The spring pigs were growing quickly, the chicken coop was filled with clucks and cheeps and 'cock-a-doodle-doos, hen's nests filled with eggs, and the crops were springing up knee high showing signs that there would be fresh corn, green beans, and cucumbers. The money was always tight in the house she saw in her dreams. Pinching pennies was not a past-time practice, but an essential activity to make ends meet. It was just as impoverished as her own life. But, somehow, the pantries were filled, there was food on the table, and even extra for the lady down the hill who helped the boy's mom out with the ironing.

It was funny had her own life paralleled her dreamworld.

It was on one of these 'nothing to do days' that the older boy discovered the largest tree at the back of our house. They could grow to a mature height of up to 60 feet, spreading around 12 feet. The oldest boy made it his goal to climb the huge tree no matter what. So, one lazy summer day, he ascended almost to the top of the tree, almost out of sight, or so the younger boy thought. The leaves and branches hid him from sight making it appear that he'd climbed into the heavens. Thankfully, he didn't fall out of the tree and break his neck. Having been warned about such antics when their mom wasn't around. Once back on the ground, the older boy turned and said, "I told you I could do it!" And so he had. It was a proud moment for the kids with little to nothing to do. The dream quickly fluttered away much like a butterfly would in the late summer's breeze. It lasted a moment, then it was gone.

...

As the dream changed from the fun-filled antics to a more dismal appearance of blacks and grays, there was little left of those childhood places she'd been dreaming about. Nothing more than rotting timbers, over-grown dirt roads, and memories that linger there calling Felicity back to a time filled with fun things the two boys in her dream needed.

She aroused herself, shook herself awake, pulled out the small piece of paper she kept under her mattress, and jotted a fine lines of the dream. She was determined to remember her dreams. One day should would write them in a book. But for tonight, each line she wrote down would only add to those she kept in her heart and mind. She never forgot much about her dreams. She simply waited for the next one to take her to a new place with new people. And with that in mind, she stuffed the piece of paper under her bed and dozed back off to sleep.

Chapter

12

A Storm This Way Comes

Five years later...

"Felicity, your birthday's coming soon. You know I'd like to give you something special, something extra, but as things are, there's little I can do honey." explained her mama as she turned to look at her grown Felicity.

No only was she as tall as she was, her baby was now a woman. Filled with aspiration and cunning, crafty and wise, there was no denying that. Mama wondered if she'd done all she could to help Felicity become a better person than she was. Would she stay in Shanty Town or venture out into a world filled with mistrust, deception, and users. That's all she'd known all of her life. From the time she was a little girl, she'd been passed from pillar to post, a misfit in a world of misfits. But, by chance she'd met a person many years ago who wasn't able to perform miracles, at least gave her a fighting chance at survival, her uncle Mr. Aldridge Hollingsworth. Now twenty years later, at least she was making ends meet by doing odd sewing jobs and continuing to take in ironing from Mrs. Farrington.

"Mama, there's nothing I really need. I'm fully aware that we're poor, dirt poor. I've come to grips with that situation some time ago. I'm not ashamed as some are here in the shanties because we've make our way honestly. Haven't we mama? Haven't we made our way working and trying our best to get by for what seems a lifetime? You've raised us to be proud of who we are regardless what the world might think. But really, I haven't seen any of the world mama, therefore, I don't know what they think or how they feel. The only part of the world I know about is what you've told me over the years. Mama, are the stories you've told me true? Did it happen the way you say? And what about Mrs. Farrington, what about her? I never did understand why she insisted on you taking in her laundry all these years. I'm not sayin' I'm ungrateful. I'm just sayin' there seems to be something more about the story that I don't know about. Is that want it is mama? Is that what it is?" asked Felicity as she turned to address her mother in a more adult manner.

The years of sparking eyes and shining hair were long gone for Felicity. In place of the childhood rosy checks and rounded face stood a woman with determination, a woman who wanted answers to the questions that had haunted not just her waking hours, but also her dreams. Was there more to life, to who she was than what she'd been told? Was there someone pulling the strings in their little shack along the side of the road in a place known as the Shanties?

"City Girl, you know I love you honey! I love my children! There isn't anything I wouldn't do to protect you girls, but some things are left better in the past. Some things are better left without being spoken or told. I'm not sayin' our life has been easy, but we've made it this far. We've made it this far because we've stuck together. That's what matters. We gotta stick together, girl!" stated her mother sternly as if Felicity had pushed a bit too much.

The only time her mama got riled was if she pushed too much. Yet, now was the time to push, today was the day to ask those difficult questions that her mama didn't want to answer. Today would be a day of reckoning either for Felicity or for her mama.

"As far as what I'd like for my birthday, well, let's just say I'd like to hear the rest of the story about ole Mrs. Faddington meetin' up with you in the big city. How 'bout that mama? That would be the best birthday gift I could ever get. To know the truth behind the meeting, that's all I want mama. Can you give that to me?" asked Felicity as she face her mother and waited for an answer.

Mama didn't answer the question, rather she mulled it over in her mind for some time. She wondered why it was so important to Felicity to know about the meeting, to know about Mrs. Faddington. There wasn't really all that to tell, mostly things that made no difference now. Besides Felicity was grown almost on her own, what difference would any of that make now? The meeting wasn't filled with mystery or mystical enchantment, but rather facts and figures and tears. What could be so important about all that to her now?

"I don't see the need for that Felicity. No, there's no need for that now." replied her mother as she motioned for the table to cleared for supper. "Now, set out our plates and let's get this over with." ordered mama as she immediately changed the subject.

Following orders as she'd always done, Felicity set the table with the few pieces of plates and cups. The same ones they'd used for breakfast not 6 hours ago. But, thankfully, dinner wouldn't be biscuits and gravy. No, the evening meal would consist of vegetables and a small piece of pork her mama was able to round up at ole Mr. Sam's on her last trip to the market. To Felicity's surprise, she went alone and left her to tend the children. For some reason, her mama wanted to go by herself, something she'd never done over the years.

"Now, set yourselves down and let's give thanks for what we got. You know as well as I do that there's people right here in the shanties who don't have nothing. We are blessed. Now, bow your heads for a minute." mama instructed as she'd done for the last 15 years that Felicity could remember. But today, the prayer ended in an odd twist, something about people minding their own business and keeping their noses out of other people's goings on. That was unexpected and really spurred Felicity's curiosity. What could she be referring to she wonders? Was she taking directly to her or about someone else? She wasn't sure, but she felt the meaning would be uncovered in the near future. Was it because something happened to mama during her last visit to the store? There was no way of know, but she'd been acting a little different, stand-offish since her last trip.

"Y'all know it's going to rain this evening. And you know how the house gets when it rains. Hopefully the water will stay in the road this time and not spill over into the front room. Felicity you'll have to stay up later after we've all gone to bed to keep an eye out for the water. If it rains hard, then we've got to be sure to move the stuff away from the front door." instructed mama as she took her last bit of food, wiped her mouth on her apron, and stood up to move her plate to the large bucket she used to wash them in three times a day.

"Yes Mama." answered Felicity as she too finished up her portion and handed her mama her plate and small cup. "You reckon the rain will be heavy like it was a year ago? That was a mess trying to get everything up high enough to get it out of the water. I sure hope not!" she exclaimed as she helped the others clear the table.

Outside in the evening gloom, a dark gray heaven dominated overhead. Casting a solid blanket over the entire vista. Heavy clouds drooped over the dirty poverty-stricken community destined for more than just a light drizzle. In the distance, lightening flashed revealing the enormity of the approaching storm. Thunder was already rocking the edge of the big city and quickly sounded the alarms of those living nearer to the edge of Shanty Town. The evening would be long and the rains heavy. But for Felicity, it wouldn't be the first time. She'd lived in the shanties long enough to have learned what to do when the rain-maker came, when the storms lashed out stripping the dirt road of its identity.

"Look out Felicity and check to see if the rain has started. Then gather up the things you can that's closest to the door and put them as high as you can. You know what to do girl! Get yourself a handful of candles. It's going to be a long wet night." stated her mama as she hurried the girls along into the back room that was built on high ground, a two or three foot step up from the front room. All of the shanties were built the same way for the same purpose. No one wanted to drown in their sleep by the raising water rushing down the dirt road that divided the community.

"Okay mama. I'll get myself ready. You don't have to worry. I'll keep watch and wake you if there's goin' to be water."

And with that, Felicity gathered the things she needed to keep watch while the others made their way to the back room. With a handful of candles, enough to last the night, she took her seat at the small table nearest to the door. Since she was the oldest, it was her job, her place to look after the younger one. Mama was trusting her to keep her word. She wouldn't disappoint her.

Chapter

13

The Letter

With tapered white candles in hand, Felicity gathered herself for the task that lay ahead. She'd be the guard, the sentinel, the trusted keeper of the door against any intruder that may try to push its way in. Having said her goodnight, mama dropped the curtain that separated the two rooms and walked immediately to where the candle set, lit it, and adjusted the wick. There wasn't any reason to light more than one.

The warm glow in the front room reflected against the curtain that divided the rooms. The appearance was comforting even though there wasn't any warmth, but that was enough for those in the back room. Each found their beds, slid under the covers, and quickly slipped into sleep leaving Felicity alone in the front room to watch and pray.

Settling in for the long watch, Felicity decided to get her few sheets of browning paper with the tattered edges out from under her pallet-like bed mattress. If she was going to have to stay up all night, she might was well write a few words, jot a dream down she had had the night before. She didn't want to forget it, but if she let another day go by, she just might.

Pulling back the dividing curtain and moving cat-like through the back room, Felicity found her treasured paper and the small, but usable pencils she kept in her secret hiding place. Even though the pencils had seen their better days, the two-inch long remnants would be enough for now. With treasures in hand, she slowly tip-toed back through the curtain.

"Felicity. What you doin'?" asked mama as she lifted her heard to see what was going on.

"Mama, it's just me."

"get yourself back out to the front. You know how fast the water can come in girl!"

"Yes mama."

The conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun. Mama fell back to sleep. Felicity dropped the curtain, walked to the table glowing with candle light, and laid her dreams beside her cup of water. The few small pages were filled with writings about mystical stories that danced in her dream world. Several in fact were very good challenging the readers' imagination, stirring their passion for the unknown. This evening's writings are similar to her own feelings and memories, her life. A recent dream that has lingered for two days has been begging to be written down, to join the others in her collection of Shanty Town dreams. How could she not allow this one, this last journey into illusion to join the group that would someday be read by people she'll never know. That was her life's dream. Her ambition was to be a writer. Her world beyond the shanties would someday become real to her, or so she prayed.

Having readied herself for the task at hand, Felicity looked at the soiled pieces of paper written within and without with her handwriting. Each word was a labor of love and sincerity as she spilled them out upon the paper before her. She knew it might only be a dream, but it was her dream. She knew that nothing may ever come of the dreams she guarded so closely, but they were her dreams. And, knowing the dismal possibilities, she continued to pour herself upon the spaces before her.

Realizing before she could begin, she needed to be vigilant, watchful for the storm that was coming. Her responsibility was to stand in the gap for her family as the storm passed over. If there was anyone who could do it better than she could, she couldn't imagine who. Therefore, before beginning anything literary attempt, before jotting a single word, she first focused her attention on the needs of the family.

Outside, rain droplets tinkled against the sides and roof of the shanty. Having been built of tin, rock, and thrown away pieces of lumber, each shanty sounded hollow as the rain beat upon it. With each passing moment, the droplets grew bigger and fell more aggressively against the roof. Small puddles of water quickly formed and filled up on the dirt road outside the door. As she pulled open the door to check, Felicity could feel the rush of tropical wind push against her. There was always a rush of warm air ahead of a cold wet rainy storm. Once the wind rushed through the undergrowth and up through the umbrellas overhead, there wasn't anything left but the storm itself. This storm wouldn't be any different than those before. Hopefully, it would only bring rain, wind, and some puddling. There wasn't any guarantee. There never was.

Cautiously, Felicity surveyed what she could see of the surrounding area. With no light other than the glow within each of the shanties to shed light into the alleys and upon the dirt road, it was hard to tell if it was going to be gully washer or an all night drenching. Either one could mean trouble. Either one could be disastrous. Overhead the lightening grew ever closer, the thunder roared like a lion fending off an opponent. Both were ominous, both were relentless in their advance. Both could turn deadly without notice, without warning. Felicity couldn't help but fear the unknown, the advancing storm's fury, the possibilities that lay ahead. Yet, within her she had to reclaim the calm, the reassurance that things would be okay for her and her family.

Satisfied there wasn't anything she could do to change the inevitable, she pushed the front door together, latched the pin in place, and returned to her chair. The weather was beyond her control, but the way she let it affect her was within her control. She could be fearful or determined. It would be her choice as the night closed in.

"Okay Felicity, let's not become over anxious. There's nothing we can do about what's going to happen. The weather will be what it is." she whispered it herself as she took her seat, looked one last time at the door, and set her mental clock to check again in an hour. Water can swell very quickly in an hour. She must be vigilant.

She raised the short pencils up to check the lead in each. One was shorter than the other and would need sharpening. There wasn't a pencil sharpener, only a paring knife she used to keep the points sharp. That would have to do. Once sharpened, the pencil became a paint brush she needed to paint the story, the dream, in words upon the few pieces of paper not yet cluttered with words from her night's journeys.

Boom!

A loud clap of thunder shook the shanty causing the ground to vibrate. Across the room, the stove's embers shot up and sparkled in stove door's cracks. It looked like someone was poking the fire, tending the embers. Outside, the rain picked up from a drizzle and turned into a ratta-tat-tat symphony singing out the approach of what was headed her way. Pulling her thin sweater tighter about her arms, Felicity couldn't help but shiver at the thought of what could happen, what might happen in the darkest hours yet to come.

Steadying herself and taking a deep breath, she turned her thoughts to the empty page before her and the dream swirling within her mind. Her dreams were all she had. For her, each one was an escape, an adventure into the unknown, uncharted worlds that lay beyond the dirt road outside. She loved what she experienced while away. For her to some day share this world of imaginary people would mean she'd become part of their world.

"Okay Felicity, let's get started."

Within moments of focusing, the thoughts began to flow, the world within her began to bloom again, and the people she dreamt of were alive once more.

...

In her mind, she could see a man setting at a table writing. He was an older man with graying hair, graying beard. He never turned to look at her, but he new she was watching his every move. He was writing a short note to himself, a memory he saw within himself. Once he'd begun, he turn ever so slight to his left, glimpsed at her, and began his soliloquy for her to enjoy. For Felicity, this was a first for her. At no time had any of her occupants of her dreams turned to look at her. For her this singling out was unusual, rather odd. But, she watched and listened as the man relayed his innermost thoughts for her to consider.

"I dare say that few, if any, have walked muddy roads to get to their homes in times gone by. In times when truth was coveted, sought after, and held in high regard. I remember a time and a place where children clung to daddy's hands hoping not to slip and fall, hoping not to dirty their clothes in the swollen ditches that lined the muddy roads leading to our mountain home. It was an adventure seldom shared, but reserved for those facing the challenge of another rainy day up the 'holler' from a forgotten town. Seasonal rains, gully-washers, as we called them, devoured the roads, eating them away making it almost impossible to drive the last mile into the wilderness. There a make-shift house lacking paint stood alone in a clearing near forest edge.. A warm and welcoming house, nothing fancy, nothing elegant, awaited those venturing the last mile. Smoke spiraled from the chimney, pots boiled on the wood stove, and those who would join her, the cook, were in for a gathering, a union, unknown by those of a more modern time. There were many, as I remember. Yet, as I reflect on that rainy day, the muddy roads, the thunder and lightening, and the wood cook stove, it would be remiss of me not to give thanks for those memories of the rainy days that shaped my life ore these many years."

He finished his soliloquy, turned once more to see if she was listening, then turned back to his empty page to see it full once more...

It was as though the note was meant for her. The memory had similarities that touched her heart, touched her soul. How curious this man seated in front with his graying hair and beard. What was he trying to tell her? What was the essence of the matter? Was she to learn a lesson, take a cue, unravel some mystery? There was no way of knowing. It was a dream. It was just a dream.

Another clap of thunder rumbled through shanty town causing each building to vibrate. It was scary and unpredictable, but with each passing moment, Felicity grew ever more determined to withstand the storm, to stand in the face of adversity, to become that person her mother expected her to be.

With each moment, she felt less sure of herself. With each crack of thunder, she knew she'd better find a way to gather the strength and courage to face what could be a very long and arduous night.

Holding the pencil against the paper, Felicity worked to write down each word her visitor said, each emotion conveyed by the similarities of his life and hers. It was for her that he materialized in her mind during her sleep. It was for her that he dictated the story, the moment from his life so she could see she wasn't along in her desire to be a writer. No matter the story, she needed to tell it. No matter the fallout, she needed to know the truth.

One gust after another pushed against the tin sides of the shanties lining the muddy dirt road under the swaying umbrellas. Each family sheltered inside held their breath in hopes that the sides would remain intact and not be blown way by the ever increasing strength of the wind as darkness deepened, tress swayed from the onslaught.

Like the times before, Felicity listened to the gale, the splattering of the rain as it slammed up against the sides and top of their little makeshift building searching for a way in. As with any storm, rainwater trickled down the sides of the walls separating the front room and the back room. There wasn't much to keep it out between the cracks in the metal and the sheets of plastic riveted with holes from years of use and neglect. No one was any better off than the other in the shanties. If one failed, they all failed during an attack brought on by subtropical warm air churning up from the gulf of Mexico. This one would be no different, no less heartless, no less uncaring.

There wasn't anything that could be done to reinforce the walls or the ceiling. If it collapsed, all would be lost causing the family to have to start over. That wasn't anything anyone of them looked forward to. Once, a long time ago a mightier storm took them down. Hopefully, this one wouldn't do the same.

Turning her thoughts from the storm's attack, Felicity stared at her writings. They were as if they were her children. She loved each one even though each of them were different, each held a different meaning. It had been that way for a long time. She wanted to consider herself a good writer, but there weren't any readers to offer an opinion, not one to read her work, not yet. But, her hope, her dream of making it big one day never faded no matter how long it had been since she dreamed her first dream.

Turning the page over and assessing how much room it would take to write down the next dream, her hand slipped and out fell the envelope she'd placed there some time ago. It fell to the floor face down. It was the envelope she found in the laundry. It was the unopened envelope left by the errand boy.

Chapter

14

The Storm Within

Setting in the momentary quiet lulls between the cracks of thunder, Felicity drifted off into memories of conjured experiences, make-believe places that she could only imagine might have happened. People's lives lived long ago or in another place that could be used to create another story, one that wasn't a dream. Some were great, other's not so wonderful. The little children she saw were blackberry picking along a dusty, dirt road, swimming in the creek, filled with no-one-knew-what, up hollers shrouded by overgrown bushes and fallen trees. There were scenes of children running home in the rain along side a swollen river hoping that it stayed within its banks until the got to their houses. Each little child could tell a tale, spin a yarn, or create images for those who'd listen once they settled down near the stove, one much like the one Felicity had in her shanty. But, while seeing the scenes, seldom did the characters expose those darker experiences that frightened them, those that kept them up at night. No, those things were pushed as far back in their minds as they could push them. There the dark memories remained to be visited by those who might read the yet-to-be-told stories. Those were times, those were scenes that would cause Felicity to boast of 'lessons learned' once she finished the tales running rampant before her in her mind's imaginary world. Those will the times she'd have to look for the light at the end of the tunnel! Those would be the times she'd seek to reveal a life-changing answer for those who'd read her books. And answer that could only come from God. And, in those times she'd have to pray the hardest to get the story out, to tell the tale, to relinquish the agony that would soon overtake her. One person's valley of death isn't the same as someone else's, yet it is just as real.

With much disappointment, Felicity was jolted back into her real world where the lightening was so bright it made the outside appear as daylight. As she peeped through the door's cracks to catch a glimpse of the storm's fury, she was shaken by the thunder that held the lightning's hand ever advancing toward their muddy, rain soaked community under the umbrellas. Like old friends, the flash and the rumble steadily made their way forward across the dark landscape. It was as if the two where twins of mother nature. It was as if the two were inseparable, bound for all eternity.

Leaning back away from the peek-a-boo vantage point, the windows to her world, Felicity took a deep breath. She didn't want to be caught up in the storm nor its lashings. No, she wanted it to just go away. But, as with each lashing before, the chances of it changing direction was not in the cards. The only thing she could do was to watch and wait and pray that it wouldn't get any worse.

"Okay Felicity, there's nothing you can do to stop the inevitable, but there is something you can do to keep us as safe and dry as possible." she whispered to herself as she squinted to look into the corners of the front room where, in storms past, the water found its way through the tin roof over head.

Getting up and walking around the room, she swiped her hands along the sides of the walls and uneven corners trying to make sure they're weren't any leaks. Feeling assured the room was dry for the moment, she took her seat near the front door, picked up her pencil as though she were to commence a tale of all tales, but, unexpectedly, she stopped as she looked down at an envelope laying on the floor. The envelope from the laundry bag lay face down calling for attention. She'd forgotten all about it. The screaming storm had distracted her.

"Let's see what this is." Felicity mouthed as she leaned over, picked up the envelope, and placed it on the table in front of her. She began to feel a twinge of guilt flutter within her. Deep down were the emotions call home, the possibility of failing her mother, of committing the unforgivable sin, the one from which there was no redemption lives.

Deep within her heart, Felicity felt as though the questions she was asking would in some way create more trouble than she was expecting. There are times when it is better to leave a sleeping dog lie. The cliche, one that she herself had used in the past to convince her younger sibling to stop asking questions and get the chores done. Even though she never intended to pry, there was no way she could stop the events that were her destiny, the secrets to be uncovered once and for all. Without knowing it, Felicity slipped away into her world of dreams, daydreams. It was her only way of coping with a life she felt she nor her family deserved to live. The umbrellas were beautiful, there was no denying that, but what sprawled out underneath the moss-covered branches stank of the retched poverty with no hope of ever changing.

Within moments of turning her head to hear another crack of thunder, Felicity's mind whisked her away into another world created by her over-active imagination. The new daydream spilled over into her mind as if someone had opened the flood gates of a dam. Like her dreaming realm, this too was as real as real could be.

... A long time ago, in a country side dotted with poor families, coal miners pushed through the snow and rain to provide for their families sequestered between mountains that touched the heavens. In those mountains, God had deposited the black gold, coal, that would become the area's life's blood for many decades.

The miners, those Felicity had heard about from passersby at ole Mr. Sam's store during her many visits, descended into the depths of the earth, a place were many wouldn't dare go, to dig out a living for their families. Their families, like hers, that wore flour print sack dresses for Sunday-go-to-meetin' events and gatherings. With this backdrop of honest, dedicated people as an environment the setting of this new dream spilling over and flooding her mind.

The little boy, perhaps 12, set at the window of the world he knew looking at the valley below. It was a scene that never changed, except when fall came and the leaves changed colors. His dad, generally a quiet man, eked out a marginal living along side his peers in the coal mines of that mountainous terrain she'd been invited to see. In these coal camps where the little boy lived, his imagination came to life just like Felicity's. He dreamed of writing a book some day. He dreamed of writing the pictures he saw in his mind. Like Felicity, he too wanted more out of life than the world that engulfed him.

Having loved books read to him by his mama, he found them inspirational, comforting. He and his brothers loved listening to there mama read stories to them from a large scary book that spoke of spooky things that went bump in the night or scallywags who wouldn't behave. He remembered the moments when his imagination sparked to life envisioning those creepy crawly things moving through the rooms of his cookie-cutter, not-so stylish house. Perhaps it was his personal struggle to read that drove him to find stories tucked away in the small community school's libraries.

A faded and wrinkled elementary school accolade found in his father's papers and memoirs attest to his many attempts to read all I could, when he could. He wanted to see beyond the tall mountains that greeted him each morning and walk a different road other than the dirt roads that lead him home each day after school. He wanted to see the star-lit cities that touched the heavens everyone had told him about.

Perhaps he wanted to see around the next bend or look behind billowing clouds that piled high in the sky overhead. What was wrong with wanting to live? Whatever pushed him forward, whether personal aspiration or childhood fantasy or innate curiosity to know what might be lurking in the trees, his eyes spilled over with gratitude as he his mind took him to the other worlds he longed to see. He too was a dreamer, a poverty-stricken dreamer longing to be more.

Curiosity, that part of the little boy Felicity was seeing in her daydream, was so much like her that she cried when he cried, breathed his every breath, and sighed his sigh of anguish knowing that he and she may never see that world beyond the barriers that held them. He only needed to look within himself to find a world that was unique, untouched, and ever-changing, just like Felicity. This too is another story to tell, another story to add to her collection.

...

The gusts of wind pushed the front door open startling her back to her own world filled with enough sorrow for her day. The air was thick with suspicion, with anticipation, and with hesitation. Swirls of imaginary question marks danced all around the room as she touched the envelope lightly pushing it closer to the candle's glow that fluttered in the gusting wind that wiggled through the door and cracks in the walls. Getting up, she pushed the door together and took her seat.

As far as she could tell, the envelope's return address appeared to have been smudged. Was it on purpose or by accident? There was no way of proving either way, just an assumption on her part. The first name was legible, but the last name looked like drops of water had deliberately flowed down the ink marks causing it dim in detail, an illegible smudge. It transformed the letters into long wiggles that squirmed down paper like worms.

Felicity stared at the first name on the top of the envelope for a few minutes trying to find it in her memory, remember it in a conversation, or in some comment left behind by a passerby. But, to her disappointment, nothing came forth, nothing surfaced no matter how hard she thought. There weren't any people living around them or anywhere in the shanties by the name Lance. No man had ever spoken to her who was named Alex. Her mother never made reference or mentioned a person named Alex at no time during her life. This person, a mystery indeed, had spiked her curiosity. A curiosity that would only be satisfied once the letter was opened and the contents read.

Turning to look behind her, Felicity thought for a moment she'd heard her mama coming into the front room. She could always tell because the clips that held the thin curtains in place jingled back and forth when someone pushed them back against the sides of the opening. It wouldn't have been a surprise. She often got up during a storm to check on her oldest, but that wasn't the case tonight. Perhaps her mama understood there wasn't anything anyone could do to stop the storm. Perhaps she came to realize that Felicity was basically grown and could manage without her supervision. Perhaps she'd been too exhausted when she went to bed to be aroused even by the loudest cracks of thunder or the brightest flashes of lightening. There was no way of knowing which was true, but for Felicity, she was glad she was alone. She was intrigued by the letter. And, even though it wasn't addressed to her, she was determined to find out who the man was whose name appeared in the return address.

Content she was alone and would be left alone for the rest of the night, Felicity peeked up the envelope for a closer look. She scanned the remainder of the return address, a few letters here and there on the spotty watermark in the left top corner. There was the last name along with a street name, no number. She held the envelope closer to the flame as she tried to make out the name of the city. It was Philadelphia. This revelation conjured up visions, images of tall buildings, motor cars, and electrical trolley cars filled with people clamoring to get to work.

"Why would the errand boy bring an envelope hidden in the laundry? Especially an envelope from a place no one in our shanty had ever visited. We don't know anyone from Philadelphia." Felicity commented as she placed the envelope back on the table near the candle.

Would she have the courage to open the letter? Would she have the privacy to read the letter? Would her mama catch her snooping into her private business. Without a doubt the letter was meant for her mama. Had there been more letters in the past shoved deeper within the laundry bag? Perhaps, but if that were true, where were they kept? Where had her mama hid them? More importantly, why would her mama hide them? What is the reason for all the secrecy? Who is the man sending the letters? And what does he mean to her mama?

Leaning toward the table and picking up the envelope, Felicity was determined to find the answers to the questions that were mounting within her. If nothing else, she'd have some idea, some knowledge about her mama who seemed to be a recluse, a private woman all of her life caught in the throne bushes of her own making. Granted, her mother never spoke of her past, her up-bringing, and if someone asked her, she always said it was better to leave the dead buried. That didn't seem like the kind of answer her mama would give her children unless there was something not quiet right, something amiss. If there was a secret, Felicity wanted to know what it was and what the man named Alex meant to her family. Unfortunately, due to the lack of information from her mother, the only place to start looking for answers was by opening the envelope, then so be it. Besides, she wasn't 13 anymore. She was a woman with the right to know who she was and where she came from. She had a right to know.

Having reached her own decision, Felicity picked up the envelope and slid open the seal. Prying the envelope apart like one would open a change purse, she reached in and pulled its contents out as quickly and quietly as she could. Placing the folded pages on the table and leaning away, she felt her heart banging in her chest. She knew she was making a decision that could blow up in her face. She knew that the information that lay before her could be something that she might not want to know. But, was it better for her to seek the truth or just assume the truth? That was her guiding principle. Was she woman enough to understand what her mama had kept from her all of her life? Would she be able to put things in perspective, to understand that her mama grew up in a different world, a place where shanties were only places seen in books or scoffed at by those who passed by in their newly introduced motor driven automobiles or horse-drawn carriages?

Her fingers trembled as she opened the pages of the letter, laid them open-faced in the candle's flickering light, and pressed it flat against the table. Having cressed the folds out as flat as she could, she looked at the pages that lay before her trying to summons enough courage to pick up the first page.

Slowly and methodically, She leaned forward, stared at the first thing she saw on the top of the first page. It was a date. The letter was dated four weeks ago, but who was it sent to originally? Surely it didn't take over four weeks for a post to arrive from Philadelphia. That question caused Felicity to turn the envelope over and try to make out the receiver's name. It was curious to see that the sender and the recipient's names were both smudged in an attempt to blot them out. But, if the letters came stuffed in Mrs. Farrington's laundry bag, it would stand to reason the letters were originally delivered to her address. For Felicity, the mystery of the letter began to take on a whole new level of unanswered questions.

For Felicity, all of it had something to do with her mama, something to do with who she really was.

For Felicity, her mama's past was an enigma, an unanswered mystery staring her in her face.

For Felicity, there wasn't anything wrong about being poor if that's the best one could do. But, the question that kept haunting her was one that asked whether they were actually poor or being held hostage by some ghost from the past.

Resolving to make out the name on the letter, the recipient's name, she held the envelope as close to the flame as she could without catching it on fire.

"Oh my!" she gasped as she leaned back away from the flame with envelope in hand.

It read:

Mrs. Sophia Farrington Craft

1345 Willington Estate

Montgomery, Alabama

Felicity couldn't do anything by hold her hand over her mouth to keep herself from yelling out loud.

"Oh my God!"

"Oh my God!"

"Oh my God!" she hissed through her fingers as she pressed them hard against her lips.

Those three word were the only ones that perfectly expressed her surprise, her dismay, her inability to believe what she was reading. On the front of the envelope was her mother's name. Even though someone had tried to smudge it out, it remained.

Was this the first time an envelope came with her mama's name on it?

Had there been others overlooked or snatched away before someone could discover them?

Was this a mistake, a mistake on Mrs. Farrington's part to allow this envelope to slip through? Perhaps it accidentally fell into the laundry bag. If it had, it was a dire mistake that would cost Felicity's mama more than just an apology.

Felicity stared at the name for some time unaware that the storm was increasingly getting worse. Down the muddy dirt road that ran through the center of their part of shanty town, the fierce intruder had toppled a couple of the umbrellas closing off the end of the street. It locked the inhabitants in with no way out. As the rain battered the tin sides of the shanties, there was no way of knowing if anyone would escape.

For Felicity, the torrents outside that lashed up against her makeshift dwelling held little fascination. The winds powerful enough to topple the huge umbrellas held no lure. The outside world with its advancing attacking intruders faded quickly into oblivion as she picked up the letter, read the date, and the salutation.

The opening read:

My Dearest Beloved Sophia, I hope this letter finds you and the girls in good health. As you know from the previous communications, the division, the scares, the family's wounds will never heal. It's not my doing nor do I approve, but it is the will of the matriarch who holds not only our futures, but our fortunes as well. Nothing would please me more than to see your face and kiss your lips with the passion that still burns within me. My memories of us, our love, has haunted me since our final farewell. It's my desire to be with you again, but that destiny isn't to be. My departing sealed my fate that no other woman would hold a place in my heart. That place belongs to you. Forever and always you will be enthroned within my soul. That which separates us is something I have no control over. As arranged many years ago, this valley between us must never to be crossed...

"Oh my God!" Felicity whispered.

"Oh my God!"

Felicity's heart pounded within her like a bass drum. There weren't words enough to express her surprise. This revelation wasn't anything that she had expected.

Should she continue to read?

Would it be better if she hadn't opened the envelope at all?

What would all of this mean to her and her relationship with her mama?

Why did her mama keep these things from her all of her life?

These questions swirling around in her head made her dizzy, made her angry. There weren't any answers that would suffice. There had to be some explanation as to why. There had to be some truth buried away between the words and lines written on the note paper. But what was the truth?

...

Unbeknownst to Felicity her mama had been awakened by the last thunder clap that shook the tin roof. It wasn't unusual for the storms to rage or the winds to howl, but Sophia assigned her oldest to keep watch with complete confidence that all was well. There wasn't ever any question in her mind that Felicity couldn't manage to keep watch. She was grown and confident no matter what her mama asked her to do.

In the front room, Felicity was unaware that her mama was awake. She'd assumed that, like all the other times before, she'd sleep through the storm's unrelenting lashings that continued to slap the shanties from one end of the road to the other.

Out front near the door, Felicity stopped reading long enough to peek through the cracks in the door. The muddy dirt road that ran through the center of the part of shanty town was now a shallow river. It was flowing south from the downed umbrellas to the opposite end where the dirt road ended turning into a narrow path leading through the undergrowth.

Once confident that the shallow river that now lapped up against some of the shanty's doorsteps would remain within its banks, Felicity turned her attention back to the letter she'd placed in the center of the table near the candle. Regardless how much she wanted to continue reading, she couldn't make herself pick it back up. There was a sense of foreboding that pushed her away warning her not to transgress, not to intrude, not to push further into the darkness of her mother's life. Yet, Felicity's natural sense of curiosity was overwhelming. She wanted to know. She had to know who the man was and what he meant to her if anything.

...

Unknown to Felicity, her mother had made her way through the front room and over to where she set looking at the letter laying on the table. It wasn't her intention to startle her daughter, just to check on her to be sure she was alright. It wasn't her intention to be confronted with what she saw as she approached the young woman setting dazed and confused staring at a letter she immediately recognized. All of the previous letters were concealed in the exact size of envelope. All of them were handwritten, smudged at the top, and sealed by the same person. For Felicity to have opened the envelope, to have opened a door into her life, that meant only one thing. It meant the trust between them had been shattered, perhaps irreparably.

Silently mama stood behind Felicity assessing the damage, assessing the gravity of the violation. What this meant would have to be decided another time. Right now, mama had to bring this thievery to an end. She never suspected that her oldest would violate their most sacred oath. The oath of confidence to not intrude into the other's business, the other's life unless invited. Their contract had been violated. Now, as she gazed at the open letter and the envelope laying to the side, she knew their mutual trust, their lives would never be the same again no matter how much they might try to heal the wound.

"Felicity!"

"Felicity, what are you doing girl? What do you have? What are you reading?"

Her mother's voice cracked like thunder almost causing Felicity to fall from the small stool. Steadying herself by grabbing the table edge, she stood up immediately to confront her mama face-to-face. She'd been caught red-handed and no amount of explaining or lying would make any difference at this point. The emotion between them was building by the moment leaving nothing but a thin line between them that neither dared to cross. Would this be the end of their family? Would this be the end of their commitment to each other to protect the family at all costs? There wasn't any way of understanding the feelings coursing through her mama as she looked at the young woman she'd raised, loved, cared for all of her life to realize that her trust had been broken. What ever was in the letters was no one's business but her own. Who sent the letters wasn't anyone's business but her own. And, for Felicity to cross that line of trust meant that mama wouldn't be able to trust her with anything again. That was the conclusion to the matter at that moment.

"Mama, I, ah." whispered Felicity as she attempted to soften the siege, the attack that was justified, but misunderstood.

"Listen girl, I see what you're doing. There's no need to try to talk you're way out of this. What is in that letter is none of your business. I don't care what you think." stated mama as she grabbed up the letter and the envelope and pushed them deep within her pocket of her night shirt.

"But mama, if you'd just tell me the truth..." stared Felicity as tears started to well up in her eyes and spill down her checks. "If you'd just tell me what has troubled you all of these years. Why can't you tell me the truth about who you are, who I am." blurted Felicity as she turned to look at her mama standing in the middle of the room seething with anger.

"Felicity, didn't you ever think maybe I wanted to spare you the truth. Maybe the truth isn't something that you need to hear. Maybe you're better off not knowing, not hearing the truth. Those who stick their noses in other people's business sometimes don't like what they find!" snapped mama as she leveled her tone and got her emotions under control.

"It's better not to know."

Neither spoke for a moment as both assessed what needed to be said next. Should Felicity stir the pot, open the can of worms that would change her forever or would it be better not to know the truth? She had to make a decision and so did mama.

"I tell you what mama, if you think I can't handle the truth and that the person you've raised all these years isn't able to understand, then take your letter, your secrets, and throw it in the fire. That way me nor anyone else will ever know what else is in the letter. That way your little world that you've kept to yourself will remain yours. The rest of us can only imagine or assume what has happened to you to make you so bitter, so callous, with no love of life. So, mama, you make the decision. But I tell you this one thing, I'll never stop asking questions. There are a lot of people round here that know you. I can always start asking them. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to tell me all the dirt!" stated Felicity as firmly as she could without sounding disrespectful.

Turning and walking directly toward Felicity, mama raised her hand and swung it with all her might. The sound of the slap echoed from wall to wall. Mama had never slapped her children, but Felicity wasn't a child. She was a grown woman threatening her own mother. "How dare you think you can tell me what you're going to do and what you're not going to do under my own roof. You dare mention anything to anyone and there will be more trouble that you can ever imagine. This shanty town isn't protection enough to keep those who hate me out. And, if they come for me, they'll come for you. Do you understand?" shouted mama as she withdrew her hand from Felicity face leaving a red hand print that was visible even in the dim candle light.

Felicity didn't say anything. She held her hand up against her face praying that it would stop stinging. It was true that the shanties was a place to hide, a haven for many of those who sought to get lost from a world taken over by the greed of man. Both she and her mama knew that the truth they sought would one day catch up with them. When it did, all hell would break loose.

"Felicity, you don't know what your asking. You don't know how this will effect you, me, our life. But there's no need to threaten me with some type of trivial investigation. You won't threaten me in my own house! These people, our shanty friends, know nothing of me nor my past. I've kept it that way for a reason. It's just a simple mistake, a misunderstanding on your part that's brought us to this point. Would it be to your benefit to know the truth? That's a good question. Will you be able to understand even if you know the truth? Only you can answer that question. But, for me, the things of my past have made me bitter. Yes, I'll admit it. I didn't want things to turn out this way, they just did. Now, if you think you can listen without judging, then maybe I can tell you the truth. But I tell you this Felicity, you may not like what I have to say." responded mama as she guided the conversation to a climax and handed her daughter a damp cloth for her cheek. Felicity would be the one that would suffer the most, or so mama thought.

"Mama, you've taught us that the truth will set us free. Is that true? Will this truth set us free?" asked Felicity as she too mellowed her voice, steadied her stance.

"I don't know Felicity, but like you, I think it's time to clear the air. I don't want us fighting over things that me nor you can change. The past is the past." replied mama as she took a stool from the other side of the room, placed it near the other one near the door, and patting the stool seat, motioning Felicity to set down.

"Being grown has its advantages Felicity, but when childhood innocence is lost it's never regained. And, with that being said, let's begin." mama whispered, turned and pulled the letter from her night shirt. Laying it on the table, she took a deep sigh, mustered what courage she had left, and lifted the envelope up to read the address.

"As I look at this envelope and can only guess what is written inside, I'll have you know that this brings me no joy, rather sorrow. You're not aware of my life, and that's the way I would've hoped it would've remained. My life, such as it is now, isn't complicated here in the shanties. It's basically just survival. But, there was a time, long before you came along, before you were born, that my life was filled with the world you saw on the magic box at the store. Those times, those people of a life long ago still haunt me. Was I ever in love? You've asked me that from time to time and the answer is yes. There was a time, a person, but he wasn't someone who had time for me once he became wealthy, once he became one of the aristocrats. Once, his mother got in the way, my life changed. He was young when I met him. He was handsome, even dashing by all means. But his family's values got in the way of our future. Those dividing lines were drawn to keep us apart. Before the ink finalized our relationship, I had been erase from life!" stated mama as she began to open her mind's eyes to see a world once clamoring with friends who've long passed on into their own futures filled with family and wealth. Her world at the time, long before her children, was one of unlimited possibilities, unlimited passion, and unlimited dreams. She too had been a dreamer. She too had awakened during the night from dreams of grandeur of being with him. Her life revolved around a man she'd happened to have met at a taxi stand near the north-bound train station., and then again at one of the shops in the city. That was 25 years ago when there seemed to be no boundaries, only shallow promises filled with passion.

"I can't tell you how many times I thought about talking to you. This cancer, the wound within me, the scar upon my soul has never healed no matter how hard I've tried to forget. It wasn't necessarily his fault, but then again, he was a grown man with a will of his own. He just made the wrong choice. He simply couldn't allow himself to be less than a Farrington. And, like all the other young women during that time, we were trapped in a world ruled by men, directed by men, and financed by wealth families who controlled the purse strings. Once decisions were made, whether I agreed with them or not, the ties that bound us were forever severed." explained mama as she lifted her apron to her eyes to catch the first of many tears that would stream through wrinkles that now dominated her face.

"It's best that you just listen without questioning. This isn't something that I can tell you in five minutes. This world that you've asked to see, to look into, is one that doesn't exist any longer. Those times, those experiences, the passion of being with my one true love, will never be rekindled no matter how many tears I shed." anguished mama as she wiped another tear from her swollen eyes filled with hundreds of yesterdays begging to be born again.

The two set across from one another in silence. It was the first time in many years that Felicity had seen her mama cry. In fact, it had been more than a decade since tears moistened her cheeks and fell onto the floor.

Determined to tell the tale, mama leaned forward, picked up the envelope and held it up to her face. The address was as familiar as it was the when the first letter arrived stuffed in the laundry bags delivered by the errand boys. There had been others, many at first, not so many in the last five years. Over time, life, the robber of one's soul, broke into both of their worlds leaving them little to hold on to.

"I'll never forget the first time I saw him, our first encounter. It was late in the evening. I'd just arrived back into the city aboard the 7:15 evening train from Mobile. At that time, I often road the train to Mobile to visit my aunt Sadie. But I never expected to encounter anyone who'd turn my head as he did. It was as if fate knew we were meant for each other. Two strangers floundering on the edge of life with no focus or destination." mama smiled a tight grin as she remembered the evening, the moment their hands touched, their eyes met, their first kiss.

"It was the first time and my heart begged for attention, my heart begged for more. My first crush you might call it." mama let escape from her lips.

Holding the envelope in her hands, she could feel the embers within her heart of hearts spark back to life. She knew there wasn't any reason for her to long for the unattainable, but she couldn't help how she felt. She'd been smitten by a love she couldn't deny. From the first kiss to the last good-bye, her soul yearned to be held once more.

"So, now that you see I'm not invincible, perhaps we can begin anew as we both open this door that we can't close. Now that this monolith stands before us, there's no denying our humanity. This moment, this letter, this part of me I'm about to reveal to you will inevitably change us, our relationship, forever. It's with a sorrow beyond all I know that I show you the person I was and explain to you the person I could've been." mama explained as she placed the envelope back on the table, picked up the sheets of paper similar to the hundreds of others she'd hid away from prying eyes, and let her eyes skim the words on the first page.

Felicity dared not say a word, but held her comments within her. She knew, because of her mother's dampened cheeks, that the story wasn't going to be all good, nothing is always all good. But, as instructed, she'd keep her peace until the story was told, the tears cried, the apron soaked by years of tormented tears screaming to spill forward into the present.

Mama took a deep breath, clasped her hands together, and folded them onto her lap. Now was the time and this was the place that her charade would come to an end. Now was the time, unlike any time before, that she'd bear her soul once and for all. If her Felicity didn't like what she heard, at least her story would be told, the truth would lay bare before them.

Sophia wanted nothing more than to unload her soul of the burdens piled upon it. She wanted nothing more than to tell her daughter the truth, however, the truth would rip their world apart. Felicity couldn't understand what she'd asked of her mother, but she was old enough to cope as the story slowly began to unravel. For Felicity, her need to know, her desire to open the mysterious book of unseen adventures, unspeakable sorrows was about to become as real to her as if it were her own life.

"I will never forget that evening, the touch of his hand against mine, his warm embrace, the ocean within his eyes." mama said as she looked away from Felicity as if she were seeing another world, another time. "When he touched me, I couldn't help but tremble. His hands were dominating, but yet tender as he caressed my shoulders. He didn't want to play games. Men of that era, of that time were all about the family image, the family values that cemented them to their inheritance. But at that moment, he wasn't so concerned about his family values or his fortune." she added.

As he held me, I remembered the bullies in my girl's school telling me I'd never find someone to love me just for me. Someone with old money to keep me. How wrong they were." mama whispered.

"How wrong they were after all."

Turning to watch the shadows dancing on the walls and ceiling of the tin shanty they called home, mama remembered the laughter they shared, the walks in the rain, the stolen kisses behind cups hands. Yet, even the best intended promises got lost in the last words of good-bye pushed upon them by slanderous tongues, accusatory gossip.

"Felicity, do you honestly think you're the only one who dreams? Do you think that I'm content in this squatter's existence? In the past, before you were born, I was a dreamer too." mama confessed as she wiped her eyes. Felicity could almost see mama open her invisible book filled with a life she'd tried to bury. Now it was time to resurrect the dead. Now was the time to unwrap the memories long hidden in the folds of the letters she'd tucked away and yearned to forget.

"I too had dreams."

Chapter

15

The Beginning

Sophia wasn't much for cliques or fitting in, never had been. Even in school, there weren't groups of young girls, social circles, that she actually became a part of or sought to be associated with in the neighbor. Sure she had some friends, but didn't consider them close. It was okay if her views and their views never seem to sync. That's what creates moments to remember. The differences are the things that she remembered most during her school years, not so much the similarities of those she associated with on a daily basis. Now that she'd reached those (golden) years or at least stand knocking on its door, she could use all of those encounters, good ones and bad ones, as story material that will weaved another engaging novel even if those featured from those times long ago don't know they're being depicted, some on one side, some on the other. Those who wouldn't speak or usually stood off with their (gang of nobility) until she walked by, until she disappearing around the corner before resuming their shallow attempt for attention. Those who scoffed, those who mocked, those who jeered at the less popular kids. She knew those who thought more highly of themselves (even though the were all privileged kids and their parents derived their living from the factories in the city.) Axle grease was in all of their veins from a time now faded from the landscape in a place some would rather forget but can't. Others hold those experiences close to their hearts as she did. Now decades later, wherein mama's heart there's a tale of those people who won't be forgotten, those people from both sides of the street!

...

The setting is the southern states during 1920s when the market was full of new devices, inventions were spilling over into the streets. During the earlier years preceding 1919, the first operational military tanks were designed, the first flight by Orville and Wilbur Wright took place at Kitty Hawk, NC, and cellophane was invented by Jacques E. Brandenberger. Regardless of the inventions, life in the south was mostly farming, peanuts, and raising cotton. Manufacturing was on the rise, but only a few families were wealthy enough to support the large money investments to open and maintain any type of manufacturing. It was with a lot of frustration, focus, and determination that the Farrington family were lucky enough to be one of those destined to rule the landscape with their merchandise and their money.

...

"Mother, don't worry, we have the patents registered. No one has access to our invention but us." stated the boys in unison as they took their seats across the room from the matriarch.

The drawing room, the heart of the mansion, was decorated with only the finest of materials and expensive wood imported from the all over the world. It was the matriarch's desire to keep with the traditions of her family, furnishing her home with only the best. Woven wool carpets from the middle east, French Provincial chairs and sofa, and floor-to-ceiling drapes, tailor-made were all traditionally found in the more affluent homes of the wealthy. The fireplace, well attended, keep the drawing room comfortable during the winter evenings when friends came to visit or she sought solitude.

"Mother, we've made all the necessary arrangements in Philadelphia for the factories to begin production. There's no need to worry. Our legal staff is fully on board to guard against any patent infringement attempts." stated the eldest as he leaned forward in a show of masculinity.

The matriarch wasn't as easily impressed as the young men had hoped. After all, it was her money, her family's money that would sustain the business until it became profitable. That's the way it worked when starting a new business. Family stood in the gap until the profits surpassed the expenses. It would take some time and the boy's mother had to be sure she wasn't throwing her money away on some fanciful illusion of her two sons. Her family had been around for a long time and maintained a certain air in the surrounding vicinity. Now wasn't the time to fritter away her fortune on her boy's whims or indulgences.

"Mother, surely you've read all about the new invention, its popularity, and how much money can be made? The war is over and there's money to be made as the world rebuilds itself." stated the eldest as he moved his chair closer to the center of the room as he held out a sheet of advertisement detailing the new invention's possibilities.

Sensing the onset of some propaganda to try to convince her to sign the checks for yet another folly, their mother held up her hand to silence them. "I'm not quiet ready to indulge you two again so quickly. You know what happened the last time? It didn't work!" she admonished them and stood up.

"Until I see some concrete evidence that there are others willing to take this risk, our discussion is over. Now, if you two are finished, it's time for dinner. Dorothy, I'm ready!" she called out. Standing without further ado, she walked out of the drawing room leaving her two boys staring at one another as if their feelings had been hurt.

"Madam, dinner is ready." responded Dorothy, her house servant as she turned and disappeared into the kitchen to fetch the prepared plates.

Seating herself at her usual place at the large, underused mahogany dining table, she looked around at the emptiness. Mrs. Farrington missed the days when the table was full of conversation and laughter. Her desire for her family was that her sons would marry respectful women of notoriety, settle in the local area, and share their lives with her as she aged gracefully. But, no matter her wishes or prayers, her sons had become the talk of the social circles leaving her no choice but to lecture them each time they came to visit. Her family values weren't necessarily their family values leaving her no choice but to limit her offering of assistance until they became more inclined to stifle their social activities.

Back in the drawing room, Lance and Alexander looked at one another, sighed, and stuffed their justifications back into the pockets. It wasn't the first time they'd been denied, but no matter how much they wanted to begin their businesses, the matriarch clipped their wings. Was it a vendetta, a form of mockery, perhaps it was revenge on her part for their antics that embarrassed her and her family's name.

"Well, at least she took time to review the information this time." stated Lance as he raised his eyes and sighed a deep disappointing sigh.

"Listen, if we don't come up with someone to partner with us soon, someone else is going to get a head start and we'll never catch up. The cotton industry isn't going away. It's the wave of the future that will sustain the south. You mark my words. And, if we don't get into the business of mechanizing the harvesting of our own cotton fields, we'll be left behind in the dust." declared Alexander as he turned about with a determined look.

Neither of the young men ever thought about defeat. Both were college-educated, all paid for by the Farrington money after the family tradition. Only the finest education, the right people, and the most successful families frequented the estate in the early 1900's. But, now in the late 1919's, many of the older family members, uncles and aunts, had long passed leaving a remnant of pomp and circumstance dressed up in a legendary family name.

"You know as well as I do that the cotton industry has been the backbone of this nation. It will remain the backbone far into the future. As far as I'm concerned, our future looks a hold lot brighter if we get the harvesters built and into circulation." said Alexander as the two men shuffled into the dining room, seated themselves, and waited for their dinner to be placed before them.

"Mother, Lance and I have all the confidence in the world that we can double our cotton output. It's just one investment away." interjected Alex as he leaned back, slipped his napkin under his chin, and waited for Dorothy to lift the plate cover to reveal a portion of lamb seasoned with mint.

"You'd think I didn't know any better, but I'm fully aware of our company's production. We're not hurting by no means. And, for sake of this argument, where's the information justifying the need for more up-front cash investment?" asked the matriarch as she took a sip of wine, placing the glass back on the table.

For a few moments, neither son spoke. Each was in contemplation as to how to rebut the position that the matriarch had so forcefully put forth. She was no dummy when it came to the business world. She too had attorneys and accountants standing ready to provide her any amount of information regarding her family's financial position. She needed more than just speculation, but her sons were coming up short.

There wasn't any further discussion about the new inventions or patents or business. Each man finished his dinner, excused himself, and left the table bound for the library where each would share a cigar and a glass of Brandy. It was the customary ending to a long day. It had been a show of power and dominance when their father was alive. They simply were carrying on the tradition as other the other aristocrats did during that time. Yet, even though their feelings were ruffled, they knew eventually the matriarch would give in, she always did.

"Let's just give mother time to digest our proposition. In time she'll see that if we don't increase our production by any means necessary, our profits are going to take a beating. She'll come around in time." assured Alexander as he lifted his Brandy glass, took a sip, and returned it to the side table where his cigar's smoke was spiraling upwards.

With resolve, the two young men leaned back into their opposing chairs, surveyed their inheritance around them, and felt confident everything would go their way. The family bloodline coursed through the cotton industry nourishing every facet from the executive office to the workers working the fields. It was the lifeline of the country side, the fields, the growing cities all about them. Whether it would remain so after the first War was yet to be seen.

Chapter

16

Family Bloodlines

"See to it that the house is readied for the gathering this evening. And make sure the silver as been polished. The last time the Hollingsworth family visited I was told the silver was stained." said the matriarch as she walked through the downstairs parlor, the drawing room, and the mansion's entryway. "There will be some very important people here this evening Dorothy. We must put our best foot forward." she insisted as she ran her finger along the flat surfaces of the classical furniture dotting the bottom floor of her four-story mansion. It was her white-glove test she performed each time a dinner party was scheduled.

"Yes, madam. I'll make sure our staff is prepared. Is there anything out of the ordinary, Madam, that will be needed for this evening's event?" asked Dorothy as she turned to face the matriarch.

The two women weren't considered friends, but the bond between them had been established long before the matriarch's sons were born. It was Dorothy who lead the staff, ordered them around like a general, and kept them on their toes. If it hadn't been for her dedication to the family, Lance and Alexander wouldn't have had a nanny to keep them in-line. The matriarch depended on Dorothy to keep the boys straight. But, like all growing men, especially in the 1919s, they seldom listened to either Dorothy or their mother.

"Dorothy, see that the cook knows exactly what's on the menu. You know, I have a very demanding group coming this evening. And, the women can be just as annoying as the their husbands, even more so when it comes to the food choices. Now, get on with you. Report back to me if there's any issues you think I need to know about. Oh, also, the Hollingsworth family has sent their boy with a memo letting me know they'd be in attendance. And, as you might suspect there's more going on this evening than just a simple dinner part. Now, get on with you and make sure the main course is prepared to my specifications. Nothing worse than poorly prepared dish set before my guests." added the matriarch and Dorothy went there separate ways at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

"Yes Mrs. Farrington, as you wish madam."

Nothing more was said, no further orders for the servant to carry out. It wasn't any different than any other dinner party Dorothy had prepared for over the years except the madam was much older now, more contrary, less tolerant.

The matriarch couldn't remember the last time the house was full of aristocrats, but she still remembered the protocols, the expectations, the traditions that came long with 'old money.' It wasn't as simple as some thought to brush shoulders with the 'old money' as well welcome the newer additions to the club.

Mrs. Farrington's goal was to find a partners for her son's newest invention proposal. If she was successful, the bulk of the investments needed to launch her son's invention would be shared by the new partners. She needed someone adventurous and who was willing to take a risk. New inventions didn't always pan out. There were times when the investor lost everything. What it boiled down to was finding the right match. And with the business world reeling and rocking from the ending of the first world's war, finding the right person might not be as easy as she'd like it to be. The proposal had to be challenging and financially rewarding if anyone would take the bait she'd be throwing out later in the evening. She was an old hand at throwing out a good lure. She'd just have to wait to see if the bloodlines represented on the attendee's list was as bold as she hoped they'd be.

Once rounding the corner beyond the spiral staircase, the matriarch almost ran directly into her two sons who weren't paying attention to where they were going. She and the boys stopped abruptly as if they'd stepped out in front of an on-coming train.

"Mother, we're sorry to startle you!" announced Lance, the youngest.

Grasping onto the back of the decorative chair nearest her, their mother steadied herself before she responded. At her age she didn't need to be startled. Granted, she wasn't in her sixties yet, but many of her family members and friends in her circle had long passed on. All of them victims of the influenza, a plague that broke out in the early 1918's, 1919's. Some thought it was just a severe cold, but it later proved to me much more deadly. As for her friends and those of her bloodline, doctors offered little hope once the virus took hold.

"Mother, are you alright?" asked Lance who was his mother's favorite, always had been.

Dorothy often made mention of the fact that Alexander, the oldest, might have some underlying jealousy, but he'd never shown any sign of it up until this time. Dorothy suspected that in time, Alexander would turn on his brother. If that were to occur, their mother would deal with the division harshly, even to the point of possible disinheritance. There wasn't anyway of knowing exactly what she'd do, but because she made such a fuss over Lance, no one could predict what might happen. The family bloodline was to remain firm, intact, and never sway from the origin doctrines of those who laid the foundations of their wealth. Family came first, all others were secondary. At no time was there to be a family rift. It was the discipline that stirred the wealthy. It was what was expected.

"Mother, are you okay?" chimed in Alexander as if it were an after thought on his part. Pushing his younger brother out of the way to move closer.

Startling people had been known to cause them to faint. Fainting was the last thing Alexander wanted to happen to his mother. This evening was too important to let anything stand in his way. Too important to let anything stand in the way of what could be the most important dinner party of their lives.

"Boys, I'm fine. Stop with all the fuss. Besides we all know that I'm too cantankerous to be overwhelmed by a simple scare." summarized their mother as she moved out of the boy's way to allow them into the library. Once in the library, the two would theorize how the evening might go. After analyzing the list of attendees, it would be simple to single out the most probable men who might take the bait.

The matriarch waited for a moment as her sons made themselves comfortable. Seated in the large, overstuffed chairs near the fireplace, they resembled her late husband as he stole away from the crowds of talkative women after dinner came to an end. For the men, the library was their sanctuary, their podium of masculinity where worlds were conjured, enemies slaughtered. It was the culture of the era soon to be confronted by yet another adversary that would attack their world, their control. With the advent of the women's suffrage movement, it would only take time for other coveted niches that belong to the man's world to be flung wide open. But for now, the brothers and their cohorts in the business world remained confident they wouldn't be confronted by the feminists of the time.

"It's not at all what you think it might be Lance. Mother will come around. You know as well as I do that she needs time to show her hand, play her cards. It's the same thing she does every time there's a financial debate or financial proposition on the table. Let her run her course I tell you. And, once she's made her stand, shown her cards, she'll see that we hold all the aces." disclosed Alexander as he got up and walked to the Brandy cabinet.

"You want one?"

"Sure, why not. This evening may require me to have more internal fortitude than I have at the moment. Who knows, right?" laughed Lance as he gestured for Alexander to hand him a full glass.

For Alexander, this need for additional fortitude was no longer a requirement. He knew what he needed to do to make this work, the get the deal done. The only thing that stood in the way was a younger brother who couldn't keep his pants up and an old woman who still thought she was in charge. The ordeals his younger brother got himself into that required monetary intervention on their mother's part chilled the self-righteous souls of those who visited the mansion. They didn't know the details, but the gossip rings, the grapevines were filled with assumptions and wild imaginary twosomes or much worse. Lance was, without a doubt, the prodigal son needing to come home.

"What is see Lance is that tonight could be the beginning of our future, a bright one. It depends on mother. It depends on how aggressive she can be without turning the prospective partners off. You now she's good at doing that if she feels unsure of the commitment." speculated Alexander as he emptied his first Brandy glass.

"Do you think there's a possibility that Mr. Hollingsworth will attend?" inquired Lance as he pushed himself out of the overstuffed chair and walked over to where Alexander was standing.

The two men were about the same height and weight. Both were at least six feet tall, one-hundred ninety pounds. The major difference was the tone of their complexions and hair color. Alexander bloated that he was the spitting image of his father, light brown hair with hazel eyes. Whereas, Lance considered the most handsome with his regal good looks, jet black hair and deep blue eyes. It was assumed that Lance took after the Spanish heritage, but it wasn't every proven. Perhaps his dark and mysterious appearance was what attacked the women. Whatever it was, Lance's reputation stained the Farrington complexion to the point that the matriarch always said an additional pray when at church interceding or his soul.

Alexander boasted that he was the tallest, but that was debated every time the claim to fame was cited. Rushing to size himself up along side he brother using pencil marks on the door facings, Lance fudged the pencil marks as he did during his childhood. Basically, he cheated.

Pointing at the upper lead mark, all Lance could do was gloat that he always knew he'd be the taller of the two. "Told you big brother. I'll be the taller when it's all said and done." The fudging caused both of them to laugh as it had each time before.

"Another?"

"Sure. Is this a test to see who can hold their liquor?" asked Lance even though he was feeling the effects of the first two already.

"Just don't come to dinner slurring and stumbling. Mother will have you escorted directly to bed." warned Alexander as he placed the glass stopper in the top of the bottle of Brandy.

"Yeah and Dorothy will have me stripped and thrown in bed quicker than two shakes of lamb's tail." confessed Lance placed the half-full glass on the cabinet and turned away.

"That's enough for me."

Having made decision to stop while they were ahead, the two Farrington men walked out of the library. Waiting to see if either would pose a problem later in the evening, it was anyone's guess which would fail the test. "All I'm saying is that the Hallingsworth women are prime pickings, if you know what I mean." spoke up Lance as he rounded the corner headed out to the back porch. Dinner was still two hours away and nothing was more satisfying than setting on the porch swing as the evening winds cooled the moist air.

Once seated, Lance continued his discussion about the Hollingsworth ladies. There were three of them, all eligible for the right man who knew how to woe and to win their trust.

"Lance you know how mother feels about the Hollingsworth girls. She says there not the marrying kind, without proper classical training. Whatever that means. As far as I can tell, they're about as trained as any of the other women in the parts. I mean, who much classical training does it take to keep house, iron clothes, and have babies. Mother would have us to believe that all the young women need to know how to drink tea with their pinkie held out or have the husbands cut their lamb for them at the dinner table. Mother thinks that any of them who are outspoken or have a mind of their own is nothing but trash no matter which bloodline they came from." explained Alexander who he himself would argue these points and many more as to what made a good wife.

"Well that's all good, but for me I'm not ready to settle own with a bit in my mouth, no way. The fields are ripe and I've got to be the harvester right now. Maybe in the future I'll meet the right one for me. Besides, love is only a word used to lure the faint hearted. You make my words. There isn't a woman out there that can turn my head unless I want it turned." boasted Lance.

"That might be true, but mother expects us to find an upright woman, get married, and settle down here near her." said Alexander as he rocked slowly back and forth in rhythm with the swaying of the swing.

"In a pig's arse!" shouted Lance. "It'll be a cold day when I settle for just this house, his street, this town. I'm going big places. You got that Alex. I'm going to make it big one day with or without mother's help."

"Spoken like a true Farrington. You're bloodline runs deep and it's out of control." laughed Alexander who knew no matter what Lance was shouting about, he'd never be anything more that what their mother told them to be and was willing to pay for them to become.

Chapter

17

Echoes

"More than life!" mama whispered as she answered Felicity's question about loving the man whose name appeared on the front of the envelope.

Mama leaned back on the stool as she waited for Felicity to catch her breath. It wasn't the beginning of the story she'd expected. No, the story she'd wanted to hear was one of love, compassion, and tender embraces under the umbrellas. Maybe an elopement, an unapproved meeting or perhaps a special meeting at one of the city's elegant hotels that lined the main streets of the nearby city. The type of hotels Felicity could've only imagined. She had seen them on the magic box at ole Mr. Sam's store many years earlier.

Holding the envelope, mama fell silent, swiped her finger across the name of the man from her story, and stared deeply into the glowing candle. Seated there with Felicity, mama felt for the first time that she could tell her tale without being judged. Was that the case? Would Felicity place the role of the audience without opinion. Like those seated in the front seat, would she cling to every word, every syllable, every movement being played out before her.

With little coaxing, mama turned to Felicity sensing there was a question waiting to be asked. But, unexpectedly, Felicity was determined to listen until all of the pages were read without interruption. There was plenty more to spill from the pages as she watched her mama pull several more envelopes from her night shirt's deep pockets. She must've kept them there away from prying eyes, away from snooping children who'd never understand the hidden meanings, the mystery buried within them.

"It was a different world then my child. There were people with power, people who'd do anything to keep their power, their positions, and their name out of the mud. It's not like the shanties, honey. At that time, women were just beginning to have the voices heard in a world dominated by men, ruled by men, and women were required to remain silent. The role of the silenced lambs was to keep house, raise the children, and take care of their husbands. If a woman wasn't able to fulfill her role, she was shunned like the plague. For women to dream was considered being silly. To see the world as a place for everyone to become a part of a greater whole was considered being disrespectful, forgetting our place. But, many women, not just me, were dreamers. Yes, my dear I yearned to not just be a good wife, but to allow myself to become all that which was within me at that time." mama whispered as she held the sealed envelopes to her chest as if they were infants seeking to be suckled.

"Well, what happened to you ability to dream? What happened to the person you wanted to become? Who stood in your way mama of you being who you should've become?" quizzed Felicity as she too felt the sorrows swell within her as if she were the one wronged. Her soul felt the need to cry out. In mama's world, to aspire to become more was asking for the death sentence. Mama had cried out. Death ensued.

"My child, all I have left are echoes of songs my heart once sang. Lines of a sonnet that slayed me. Those world have been written upon my soul in the blood of my lover. Crimson flows the dream I once knew." mama breathed forth like someone who neared death.

With renewed awareness, Felicity looked at her mama in a different light. She had seen her mother as a stern disciplinarian, full of vigor, full of judgment. As she looked at her face in the candle's soft glow, she saw another woman, one who had given all she had but it was still not enough.

"Mama, what really happened to you in that world, the place you've opened up to me? Is there no repentance to save you, no apologies from those who took all you had? At this point in time, is there nothing that can resurrect your dreams?"

That question fell upon deaf ears. Mama knew once the spell was cast, the chant recited by those in charge, there was nothing anyone could do. With a wave of a hand, people's lives were eliminated. With one word, treasures were cast aside, labels affixed. No, for mama there wasn't anything that could be done to right the wrongs. All she had were the echoes of the past she held against her chest. If there was to be a rebirth of a dead dream, it would be considered a miracle. For mama, she was out of miracles.

"Let's get through this Felicity, then maybe I can have the peace I've prayed for all of these years and you can finally have the truth you've sought after all of your life."

"Okay mama, okay."

Chapter

18

A Glimmer Of Hope

Sticking her head around the corner of the kitchen's doorway, Mrs. Farrington wanted to be sure the Hors d'oeuvres were being prepared and would be ready before the first of the guests showed. There wasn't anything that spoke volumes about the cultured family as much as the preparations for a dinner party for the elite. The matriarch knew that not only the Hollingsworth family and their silly daughters would be there, but Mr Hollingsworth's associates would be in attendance. He never ventured out without his advisors. The dinner parties were a time to shine, to present the best each bloodline had for display and approval. Tonight wouldn't be any different.

"Dorothy!" called out the matriarch as she stood at the door observing the comings and goings of the staff carrying out their assigned tasks.

"Yes, madam!" answered Dorothy. "What can I do madam?" she asked as she too moved back and forth across the large kitchen placing plates and serving trays on the large spacious counters.

"Did you assign some of the staff to the adjacent rooms. There mustn't be anything askew this evening, nothing!" responded Mrs. Farrington as she rubbed her forehead imagining only the worse case scenario. "You know if the Farrington girls have their way, those little busy bodies, they'll jump at anything to spin a thread of gossip about my home. I've heard them do it myself about our other illustrious families in the community. You know the Fleming family was all in disarray after those little meddlers started some trivial rumor about finding some boy kissing a young lady in their drawing room. Now, you know that I don't approve of any of that shenanigans, at least not in my home. If that kind of stuff goes on, it better not be in my house. You hear me Dorothy. We have to keep watch and squash that type of behavior before it gets started!" ordered the middle-aged perfectionist who never wavered in her faith or her belief that ladies were to behave themselves in a godly manner no matter where they were or whose home they were visiting.

"I'm just letting you know Dorothy, they'll be none of that in my home!"

"Yes madam. I've instructed the staff that if anyone is caught in any compromising position, they'll be fired on the spot. It's worked for me since I've been here, madam." Dorothy rebutted.

"Our diocese would order an investigation if some scandalous tale even suggested that I couldn't maintain my own home in the right path. It may not be the way of everyone in this area, but in my house I won't put up with anything that might stain my good husband's family name. Now, off with you. Check on the upstairs staff. I want everything finished and all of you lined up outside awaiting the arrival of my guests. Oh, one other thing, everyone must be in their formal attire, spotless! Let me know when your staff is prepared for inspection. I don't like slackers." she added.

Orders flowed from the matriarch as if she herself had been a general in the war. There was no room for excuses, no second chances. Dorothy knew that her employer didn't mince words or make suggestions. She ran a tight ship and those who couldn't follow the rules were forced to walk the plank. In other words, they were fired without any hope of attaining another similar job. Mrs. Farrington seldom, if ever, had a problem with an employee. They did what they were told, kept their mouths shut, and tended to their own affairs of maintaining the huge estate. She was just as strict with the members of her family. Alexander, the oldest, was careful not to ripple the waters. He knew that his mother wasn't a push over. If he wanted to commit any violation of her laws, it was done unbeknownst to her. But, as far as Lance was concerned, the younger of the two sons, he wasn't as careful with his socializing, his meanderings from the plumb line his mother had drawn for them to follow. Both of them knew the consequences if they strayed too far from the straight and narrow. Both of them understood what towing the line meant, but only one was committed to try to portray the family values as best he could.

Dorothy was all about doing her job right the first time. She had little tolerance for slothful, lazy people who expected to get their pay without working for it. In the Farrington mansion, there was little room for excuses. Topping the spiral staircase that ascended to the top floor of the four-story rotunda, she turned left, walked down the length of the hallway where six bedrooms jutted off from one of the four extension of the main house. The bedrooms, seldom used, still required dusting and the bed coverings cleaned every two weeks. The guests that use to frequent the rooms were now only shadows who once awed at the magnificence of the mansion's size and grandeur.

Evelyn Trudeau was no second-rate maid. She'd been under the tutelage of Dorothy for a number of years. In fact, the job at the Farrington house was her first and only job she'd ever held. She too believed in doing the right thing, working as agreed, and taking pride in what was done. For Evelyn, there wasn't anywhere else she'd find the stability she found at the Farrington Mansion.

"Are the rooms readied? Did the staff finish up the dusting, turning the beds down if there are to be overnight guests? We can't do a half done job, you know that!" snapped Dorothy as she walked along side Evelyn who she'd hired and trained many years prior. Evelyn was ready to give her a guided tour if she so desired.

"Yes Mrs. Dorothy, everything is just how you like it." replied Evelyn as she pointed into each room as she slowed their pace. Pointing at the turned down beds, the wash bowls and pitchers setting on the cabinets near the full-length mirrors. Everything in its place and a place for everything was Dorothy's motto. She never varied from her personal training completed under the guidance of Mrs. Farrington when she first came to Farrington Mansion. Her training, quiet extensive and exhausting, formed the foundation of her life. Now, many years later, Evelyn is building the foundations of others who were privileged enough to have been allowed into the private world of the elite.

"Ms. Dorothy, other than our standard work list, will there be anything else? I want to be sure I've done my best." commented Evelyn looking around the room for areas that needed attention.

Both women depended on their jobs. Evelyn was not only working at the Farrington Mansion, but her husband, now disabled, required daily attention for even the most simplest of tasks. He was able to get up and walk, but little more. Therefore, once she finished her assignments at the Mansion, her evenings were dedicated to her own house's needs.

"By the way Evelyn, how's Franklin?" asked Dorothy as she turned and began her tour down the other side of the hallway.

"Ms. Dorothy, he's in a state. There's nothing the doctors can do, no medication he can take. As far as I know, his days are numbered, Ms. Dorothy." replied Evelyn as she held her head down contemplating the eventuality, the inevitable.

"Well, as you know, if there's anything I can do..."

"At this point, Ms. Dorothy, there's nothing anyone can do. Thank you for your concern." Evelyn responded. She and Dorothy both knew that the kind of affliction her husband had would take him out of this world. In time, he'd be gone.

The two women busied themselves with an impromptu investigation of each of the four wings on the fourth floor. The bedrooms were always a priority when Mrs. Farrington decided to give a dinner party. And in the south, some of the guest traveled a great distance to reconnect with their fellow elite citizens. Once the journeys were completed, new fangled automobiles or carriages stowed in the large garages or barns, the guests had their baggage toted to the assigned rooms. Neither Dorothy nor Evelyn had been told by Mrs. Farrington that her guests would be staying. But the possibility of overnight guests remained an outcome causing the staff to snap-to and prepare the mansion as if they were staying. Only Mrs. Farrington would know if accommodations would be needed after everyone arrived. She'd let them know later.

Once the inspection was completed, Dorothy excused Evelyn and returned to the ground floor where she met Alexander and Lance coming in through the front rotunda.

"Hello Mrs. Howard, we see that mama's got you running around like a chicken with its head cut off!" laughed Lance as he poked his other brother for confirmation.

"I'm not getting into this you two. If I had my way, you two would be off to work in some distance city. Your mama needs some peace and quiet. But, if I know you two, you got something up your sleeves and tormenting the madam every chance your get." accused Dorothy as she pointed her arthritic finger in their faces.

Laughing as they'd always done as they were being chided by the help, they enjoyed a good laugh at the expense of the hired help. It was all in fun amongst them all because for the most of their lives, Dorothy marched the boys around until they came of age. Once away at school, her lecturing and training about having good manners paid off for the both of them.

"Come on now Dottie! You know you love us!" remarked Alexander as he too joined in the fun.

"You boys best get going before I call your mama! You don't want me to do that, now get!" ordered Dorothy as she had done hundreds of times before.

"It's all in fun Dottie, all in fun! Besides, who else we got here in this palace of rock and wood who really understands us?" asked Lance as he leaned over and planted a kiss on the older lady's cheek. "You know we love you!" he laughed.

"Yeah, what he said." added Alexander as he too leaned in on the other side, kissed her softly, and backed away.

"You boys better get now!" ordered Dorothy as she pushed them away as though they were her own sons.

"Love you Dottie resounded through the downstairs hallways as Alexander and Lance sought some place where they could observe the arrival of financial partners. The only viable candidate they were aware of was perhaps Mr. Hollingsworth. But, in the past, he mostly just came for the company, the excellent spread prepared by the professionals in the kitchen, and unfortunately, to escape from his silly daughters who liked nothing more than to embarrass him. To his delight, when visiting others or attending dinner parties, his albatrosses found others to torment. With any luck, the girls would find Alexander and Lance to keep them company leaving Mr. Hollingsworth time to discuss the reason of his invitation.

"You know who's coming this evening?" asked Lance as he walked into the library, seated himself, and waited for his brother's reply.

"No, did you get the guest list? I don't remember seeing it this evening. Mother didn't make a list that I'm aware of this time." replied Alexander as he too seated himself across from his brother.

"Well, not only are those silly women, the Hollingsworth sisters coming, but I got word that they're bring someone we haven't met. Someone named Sophia something. As I remember, the person that delivered this information to me said that she was their cousin from out of state from a rather wealthier side of the Hollingsworth family line as I understand." admitted Lance as he raised his eyebrows and leaned forward toward his brother as if there were more to tell.

"What I was told is that she is from just over the state line somewhere near Biloxi, Mississippi." said Lance.

"How do you even know that that's the truth? People tell us all kinds of things Lance." said Alexander as he shook off the information as if it were old sweater.

"Well, I know that we don't always get the whole truth, but one things for sure this evening big brother, she'll be coming with the Hollingsworth family. Hey, you can talk to the two silly sisters, I'll take on the task of introducing myself to Ms. Sophia." laughed Lance as he looked away already contemplating his plan of attack.

For Sophia Bloomingdale, her evening was just beginning. She stood outside the coach waiting on the driver to assist her with her cape. Standing tall and elegant, she drew the attention of all of the gentlemen standing to be welcomed into the estate.

"Ms. Bloomingdale, if you will." stated her male escort as he motioned for her to take his arm. After following his instructions, she gracefully walked up the entryway's steps toward the man with black hair and dominating stare.

Waiting to greet her was the butler who, like the other men, was taken by her beauty. Her poise and grace spoke of culture and training at the finest finishing school. The house staff curtsied with eyes turned downward, whereas, the men watched in admiration.

"Who is this?" whispered one of the female staff members as she remained in hr curtsied position as Sophia passed by.

"I don't know." replied the young girl as she shook her head ever so slightly. If caught talking during introductions, both of the young ladies would be dressed down by Dorothy. Neither wanted that.

As Sophia approached the black-haired man at the door, the butler stopped long enough for Lance to introduce himself, lean forward, and kiss her hand. The cultured lady simply stood silent, waited for Lance to release her hand, turned and walked away. She neither acknowledged his welcome nor his customary kissing of her hand.

Dressed in a dinner dress design by Jean-Philippe Worth, a French designer, Sophia was destined to be the talk of the evening. There were few designers that Sophia admired but Jean-Philippe's attention to detail, his commitment to excellence, drew her admiration.

As far as men, she'd seen them come and go. Many of them made it their habit of trying to impress her, but few, if any, did. She'd been educated in the finest schools in the north and it would take more than a kiss on her hand to get her attention. Besides, she wasn't looking to meet anyone. She came expressly to listen to her uncle, Mr. Hollingsworth. Her uncle admired her vigilant attention to detail, her intelligence, and her vision. His two daughters weren't in the same league as that of Sophia, and for that reason, he spent many hours with Sophia explaining to her his business and its processes.

Once inside the rotunda, Sophia asked one of the house servants where the powder room was and escaped from the unsolicited attention.

...

Lance, feeling as though he'd been rejected by the only cultured women attending the dinner party, made his way upstairs where Alexander stood by the front panoramic window. His view of the front entryway was unobstructed. His attention was drawn not to the women in attendance, but the businessmen who potentially could become their partners.

"You really need to think of something other than the females that are here this evening. I mean, we need to concentrate of who has the potential of becoming an investing partner. Then, once we've sealed the deal, there will be plenty of time to try to impress the ladies." admonished Alexander as he turned to his younger, less business-minded brother.

"Do you actually think I'm oblivion to our needs, our future business opportunities? Don't you worry ole man, I'll be up for the fight." responded Lance who was still searching the rotunda below them for the women in the crimson designer dinner dress. She was stunning.

"Don't you think she was stunning, Alex?" asked Lance once there was a pause between admonishments.

"But of course she was stunning. She's here with Mr. Hollingsworth. Now get yourself together and get your head on straight. We're about to enter the lions den where the lioness, our own precious mother, is about to devour anyone one who objects to her proposals." concluded Alexander who moved back away from the window as the last of invited guests existed their conveyance.

With the winds from the south bearing down on them, each of the southern gentlemen who existed their respective automobiles, held their fedora tightly against their head to keep it from flying off. It was the style of the era, black fedora cressed down the middle and pinched at the from. The most popular had with a black satin band.

"Sir, welcome to the Farrington Estate." stated the butler as the first male guest arrived.

...

The summer evenings seemed to drag on forever as the house servants darted first one way then another readying the mansion's amenities for the perspective guest's needs.

The warm gulf air churning in the ocean just off the coast had arrived making its way up the coastline and across the southern states. Being pushed by an approaching storm out of the gulf, the winds made their way into the residential areas of the close-knit community. The residents had prepared for the worst. It seemed as though the storms were getting stronger every year. Without warning, hundred year old Oak trees, assaulted by tropical winds, could be topple by the uncontrollable fury of storms. Each year the storms seemed to be getting worse.

...

"Looks like it'll be a windy night." whispered Dorothy as she looked out over the Farrington's estate from one of the third floor's bedroom balconies.

To the south, dark clouds swirled like angry hornets All she could do was wonder what the newest storm was bringing with it. The last one nearly leveled the outer parameter fields and downed many of the shade trees used by workers during the summer's hottest days.

Chapter

19

Somber Moments

The tale's last syllables lingered in mama's mouth like a bitter pill as she stopped to get a drink of water. Using a metal ladle, she dipped into the water bucket setting on the small cabinet to the right of the cook stove. Lowering the ladle into the water until the scoop was full of warm water, mama lifted it to her lips, took a sip, and let the remaining water spill back into the bucket. Once her thirst was quenched, she walked back to her stool beside Felicity and took her seat.

Her breathing was labored, her hands were sweaty as she took a moment from the story-telling to remember it was all in the past. It was a somber moment for both of them. The much sought-after truth was in the process of spilling forth unleashed with a lifetime of emotion.

"Mama, who were the silly sisters? Were they your relatives, your cousins? I mean, you said that that person named Lance was told that they were akin to you." Felicity inquired trying to understand who each of the people were living in her mama's mind.

The years passed, words faded, but the memory of his face lingered if everything else died away. Mama remembered him as if it were yesterday. As if her coach was stopped on the circular road in front of the line of house attendees. On their right, Mrs. Farrington's butler greeted the guests one by one. On the left, the female servants curtsied.

She closed her eyes as she relived the first time she saw him. He stood in the doorway, the entryway into the mansion. He smiled as he saw her exit the carriage. She smiled a tight smile, but remembered the color of his complexion, his eyes full of eternal promises, his voice, when he said hello, melted her heart. She knew as he spoke his first hello, that it was something more than just a greeting. She remembered his first laugh, his shy grin meant to sway her, and it did.

As mama remembered the first time she visited the Farrington Estates, she also noticed someone else standing in the window overlooking the entryway. It was someone who appeared to be less interested in people arriving in the coaches. He seemed to be more interested whether there would be others, the ones arriving in the automobiles.

Mama waited a few minutes, stood back up, and pulled the front door open. Outside, the wind wasn't as strong, but the rain had picked up swelling the shallow river even more outside her door until it covered the first of five steps leading into their shanty.

"We need to keep an eye on this." she said, closed the door, and returned to her stool.

Felicity knew from keeping watch during the previous storms that once the water topped the fifth step, they'd have to grab what they needed and leave. The water in the street would be about two feet deep if it reached their fifth step. It reached the fifth step only one time in the last 15 years, or the time she could remember. But, if the rains persisted, it's possible it could do it again.

"Are we alright?" asked Felicity as her mama set back down on the stool beside of her.

"I think it'll be okay, but we can't fall asleep until the storm has passed by." answered mama.

Picking up the creased sheets of paper before her, she held the first one up to the light. His penmanship was unforgettable. His flair with words was unmatched. And with that assessment, mama drifted back off into the world she'd left behind. It was her job to resurrect the dead for the sake of her daughter who set beside of her. Felicity needed to have answers to the questions that burned within her. The answers would not come easy nor would they fully answer all the questions, but at least she'd know who her mama was, where she came from, and what the story meant to her future.

But would that be enough?

Chapter

20

Dinner is Served

"Dorothy, I finished checking the RSVP list of the guests who were invited. It appears that all but two have arrived as indicated on their response. There were four flower bouquets delivered earlier today, gifts from those invited. Of those who have just arrived 7 of them gave my staff bottles of the finest wine and 3 brought Belgium chocolates. It seems as though your preferences are known through the country side, Madam." stated Dorothy as she stood with Mrs. Farrington just prior to commencing the serving.

"Yes, Dorothy, I do like my chocolates." she confessed.

"Now, as I've noted earlier, we have 10 RSVP guest, 3 of whom brought approved addition members with them. That's a total of 15 or 16 people. I think we'll have a full dining room this evening." stated the matriarch as she turned leaving Dorothy to her duties.

...

Returning to her post, Dorothy began the tedious task set before her. She had participated in many of Mrs. Farrington's dinner parties. She knew from experience how to become invisible, how to provide the best service without being noticed.

Entering the dining room, Mrs. Farrington noticed that she recognized most everyone in attendance. They'd either attended a dinner party before or she'd met them at other gatherings at other people's homes. In the small circle in which the majority of them traveled, it wasn't unusual for each of them to have met. She loathed the fact that Mr. Hollingsworth's two silly daughters were tag-a-longs. It never failed no matter how often she held a party, he brought them along. It was unthinkable to ask him to discontinue the practice, even rude. But, after their last visit, the matriarch had no plans to ever invite them back. surely, they must be a brazen embarrassment for the older gentlemen. No matter how successful he was, he was never successful enough for the two immature women who lauded it over him. Had it not been for his late wife's insistence, he'd married them off long ago as soon as they were marrying age. Only out of respect for his late wife's request had he tolerated them in his home. Neither of them held any promise. Neither of them wanted to become more than what they were, useless blithering idiots.

Walking into the room and inviting everyone to be seated, the matriarch set about wooing those with money. The two male business men from Mississippi, friends of her son Alexander, took their time getting to the table. It appeared that they were more interested in the antique decor of the house than to actually setting down to eat.

Speaking up even if not asked to comment or in a conversation with Mrs. Farrington, one of the visitors made mention of the harpsichord, one of the matriarch's most prized possessions. A harpsichord is a musical instrument played by means of a keyboard. activates a row of levers that turn The keyboard triggers a mechanism that plucks one or more strings with a small plectrum made from quill or plastic. The strings are under tension on a soundboard, which is mounted in a wooden case; the soundboard amplifies the vibrations from the strings so that the listeners can hear it. Many people in their circle possessed one of these fine instruments, but few actually knew how to play them. Mr. Farrington prided himself on his ability to play, but since his passing, it had remained silent.

"Madam, this instrument is emasculate. I've only seen a few of these, but this one is suburb." stated the visitor in the strongest French accent she'd ever hear. She smiled and motioned for him to be seated.

Once all the guests were seated, it was the matriarch's responsibility to give the welcoming speech. For Mrs. Farrington, she'd used the same one so often that Mr. Hollingsworth was probably to recite it by heart. But, for the sake of respect, he listened as if it were his first time hearing it.

Standing to her feet, the matriarch began with her usual thank yous. But, unbeknownst to Mr. Hollingsworth, she changed her speech from it's usual drably monotone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming and joining us, my family, here today. We are pleased to be able to welcome those of you that have been with us before, as well as those who are new to the Farrington Estate. This evening marks a momentous opportunity for those of you who have a vision of a greater future. Before we get started, I would like to express gratitude to those of you who generously helped us make this evening a special event. I've selected the finest of our community to be here his evening. Your invitation wasn't by chance, but rather by choice. For us to celebrate together in light of a world of opportunities that lie before us, it was my privilege, no it was my honor, to see that only the most promising business-minded successful potential partners grace my table. I think you for attending. Now, let me raise a glass and toast the success of the evening." concluded the matriarch.

"Here, here!" trumpeted the only Englishmen at the table.

A wave of head nodding rounded the table and stopped with Sophia. She'd been invited as one of Mr. Hollingsworth's guests, pre-approved, and welcomed. She'd be an asset to the discussion after dinner if asked to participate. Otherwise, it would be her uncles responsibility to answer her questions or listen to her interpretation once them returned home. Regards the outcome of the dinner's business enticements, he wasn't sure he wanted to align himself with the likes of the matriarch's two sons, especially Lance. Lance's reputation of co-horting and carousing about time town with anything or anyone wasn't any secret in their circle. There would been many times when, reading the local papers, that Mr. Hollingsworth cringed as his predicaments. Yet, for the sake of their mother, Mr. Hollingsworth chose to attend the dinner party at all.

Across the table from Sophia and her uncle, his two daughters were already busy snickering and whispering with cupped hands about the table's setting, the china, and the antique accessories they found out of date. But, one look from their father across the table chastised them and they fell silent. Both of them knew that once their father corrected them in public, they were to not test him any longer.

Dorothy's staff steadied themselves for their tasking. It wasn't the first time she'd had to train a new server. She didn't think the new girl was ready, but she had no choice but to throw her to the lions and pray for the best.

"Are there any questions as to the correct order of service? If you don't know or you can't remember, now is the time to ask." instructed Dorothy as she walked down the line of her most experienced staff members. The new person was stations at the door. At least she could hold the door while the others passed in and out of the kitchen gladdened with the evenings selections specially designated by the matriarch. If one of the servers failed, they all failed.

The details of the menu were made available to Dorothy several days ago. It was a new menu ordered by the matriarch. She wanted something more upscale since she was going to ask for a financial commitment from the men in attendance. Her menu looked nothing like the previous ones.

The Menu:

Oysters with Champagne-Vinegar Mignonette

Mrs. Patmore's London Particular

Fig and Stilton Salad with Port

Wine Dressing

Lamb Tenderloin with Madeira Green Peppercorn Sauce

Yorkshire Puddings

Nan's Shepherd's Pie

Floating Islands with Lemon-Scented Custard Sauce and Raspberries

English Eccles Cake

Chapter

21

In The Glow of The Candle

Setting in the candle's yellow glow, Sophia's eyes, wet with tears, laid the first page of the first letter upside down on the table. She knew that the story was moving slowly, but the memories, some of them tired, resisted being pulled from Sophia's worn out mind. She'd spend years trying to bury the life, the deeds, the woeful decisions by those who cast her out from the life she deserved. Was it done out of spite or out of religious fervor or jealousy? Whatever the reasons for the chastisement and exile, Sophia had never been able to accept it. She never would.

The two women set beside one another as each of them sigh simultaneously. It was a sigh of defeat of despair. Felicity didn't know the secrets her mama was revealing to her. She'd never heard the people's names that fell from her mama's lips. Well, none of them except for Mrs. Farrington. She knew that name. She'd never met the woman who's clothes her mama ironed, but she knew she'd been sending a bag every week for lasts 16 years, almost as long as Felicity had been alive.

"It's my dreams Felicity that burn within me. The dreams from many years ago when my heart was young, my soul adventurous, my emotions fragile. It was in those years that someone stole my dreams and cast me into a life of hell from which I've never been able to escape. I've longed, like you, to see outside the umbrellas, but yet here I set. I've yearned, like you, to have a warm hand caress me at night. Like you, I've prayed that God would deliver me, yet my prayer remains unanswered. If it's a test, a trail, a tribulation meant to teach me some eternal lesson, I pray that it end soon. My days are numbers like those around us. Here in Shanty Town, we have no hope. And, having no hope is like having no life. I go through the motions, I fight off the depression of a lifetime of failure. Was there ever a man I loved? You've asked me that time and time again. I've avoided answering because my sorrow is too deep, my heart too broken. But, setting here with you in the midst of the storm, what do I have to lose? If I admit I've been loved, does that change what you think of me? Perhaps, but it doesn't change our situation. Am I to settle for this hell in which we live for the sake of feelings, for the sake of a bloodline, for the sake of a name? Those are the questions that's sequestered away from you and your life. And, if I open my soul to you, the answers that you seek may not be to your satisfaction. I'm you mama. I've loved you since before you were born. There's no changing that. There's no word or deed or amount of money that will every change who you are to me. Have I been in love you ask. The answer is yes. I've been so deeply in love that all I could see was his eyes. All I could feel was his heart. All I could think of was how much I love him. That man, that person, that moment of ecstasy burns within me even until this day. The passion was indescribable, the promises unbelievable, and the shadows that surrounded up were unforgiving."

After her mama's soliloquy, she set stunned and glassy-eyes. She'd never heard her mother speak of love this way. She'd never heard her speak of loving her daddy as she spoke just now. Were did these words come from? Die the love she described die with her daddy. There was one last question Felicity would venture to ask. It might not be answered by she needed to know. Her mama was a desperate women. She was steadfast in her love for her children even though the love she'd known was no longer in her standing by her side.

The days of rapture died 20 years earlier. The heat of passion, the caress of the man she loved, even though it was only for a brief time, glowed within her more furious that the storm that lashed their shanty. No one knew the reasons why Sophia's life was taken from her. But, in the glow of the evening's candle, Felicity would be first person who'd know all there was to know about Sophia Craft.

Chapter

22

The Dismissal

Watching the servers, Dorothy couldn't help but notice that one of her younger females kept making eye contact with the two men who Mr. Hollingsworth invited. It was unusual, practically impossible, for any of the staff at the Farrington estate to be acquainted to those who frequented the dinner parties. For Dorothy, this was concerning.

Watching through the kitchen door, she could see that it wasn't just the young server that recognized the men, but the two men apparently knew her in some precarious manner. Once she'd finished pouring the water in the water glasses, the young girl with water pitcher in hand, turned away from the two men who were seated directly across from the access into the kitchen.

"Set the pitcher there on the counter and come with me!" ordered Dorothy. There was no room in the estate for servants who wouldn't follow the rules. The agreement wasn't a written signed contract, but a verbal one for each of the hired help. If any of them violated the agreement, they were to explain the transgression and await dismissal.

"Yes Ms. Dorothy." replied Clarice.

Once clear of the other and out of ear shot, Dorothy turned upon the younger servant with a vengeance. It wasn't the first time she'd had to call out one of her own and put them in their place. It wasn't the first time she'd pointed her finger in someone's face, delivered the verdict of dismissal. And, for Dorothy to keep her own job, a job she'd worked for over 25 years, she had no choice but to either allow the young woman to get away with the violation of trust or dismiss her one the spot. If she allowed her to stay, the precedence would be set that any of the servants could violate the rules and retain their jobs. Without dismissal, Dorothy was backing her own self into a corner. Not only that, but if she didn't handle the issue, Mrs. Farrington would demand an explanation. A question and answer meeting that she'd rather not put herself in. Therefore, there wasn't but one thing to do.

Once out of earshot of the others who were continuing on with their jobs, Dorothy, having made up her mind, positioned herself within two feet of Clarice.

"Clarice, you're probably wondering why I asked to speak with you. It's come to my attention while watching you perform your duties, that you made it a point to look at, even stare at the two attendees who accompanied Mr. Hollingsworth to dinner." Dorothy presented the evidence and waited for a reply.

There was a moment of silence as Clarice considered the accusation. It wasn't inaccurate. She'd made eye contact with the visitors, but she wasn't a stranger to the two business men seated at the table in the presence of the wealthiest woman in the town. She looked up to see if Dorothy was going to say anything else or point out any other flaw.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" her boss asked with a poisoned tipped tongue.

With nothing to lose but her job, Clarice decided to divulge her secret she'd been keeping since the time she came to the estate. It didn't seem appropriate to discuss her affiliation with the young men seated at the table or those in town. Her personal life was her own outside the walls of the Farrington estate. Her life beyond the gold, silver, and glitter of the wealthy elite wasn't as posh or elegant. For Clarice, her days were filled with the duties, the 'yes madams and the "I'll get right to it" during the day to well into the evening's dying light when her conversation was filled with "do you see anything that you like" and "when will I see you again?"

Her method of making money outside the estate was none of anyone's business but her own. She wasn't one of those who never had to worry about money. No, Clarice was a loner who found out that the only way to make extra money was to give her clients what they were looking for in the pitch black hours of the deep silent night. The bars and dance halls vibrated with the sounds of the music unlike that of the estate. It drew her there early in life. It keep her attention well into her loss of innocence. And now, she'd become a prisoner of the men's attention, a recipient of their valueless promises, their noncommittal words of passion.

"Well Clarice, what do you have to say for yourself?" boomed Dorothy almost loud enough for the rest of the kitchen staff to hear.

If Clarice hadn't learned anything else during her employment at the Farrington estate, it was that Dorothy wasn't the woman to lie to point blank. Dorothy, a seasoned house servant could read every person she'd ever met, Clarice wasn't any different. She knew that the young girl wasn't house staff material. She knew when she came to the estate that it would only be a matter of time before Clarice would terminate herself. Dorothy knew that she was too friendly with the male members of the estate's staff. She'd been observed flirting with several of the men who attended the coaches in the back of the house. Dorothy hadn't made this observation herself, only rumors filtered through the ranks from time-to-time. But this evening, it was a personal observation that Dorothy herself had made that pleaded for rectification.

"Clarice, on the day of your employment here at the estate, did I not lay out the rules, the polices of the house? This estate is one of the most prestigious in the country. Therefore, as I stated at that time, the necessity for us, the staff, to conduct ourselves in our most professional manner is paramount. Do you remember that discussion?" asked Dorothy.

"Yes Ms. Dorothy, I remember." replied Clarice as she waited for her chance to rebut the accusation that was shortly going to be hurled at her by a battle-worn soldier of the Farrington family.

"Then if you remember the instruction that all of us agreed to, what is the meaning of your behavior just now in the dining room? I saw you lift your head and look directly at the businessmen who has accompanied Mr. Hollingsworth this evening. Do you know these men, the two guests who've never been here before?" asked Dorothy as she prepared herself for just any excuse, any reason that Clarice could conjure up. Would she try to lie to keep her job? And if she did, surely she knew that she would still be fired.

A look of resolve crept across Clarice's face. There was nowhere for her to run. There weren't any 'last straws' for her to grasp for as she shank deeper into the accusatory pond. It was either tell the truth and lose her job or tell a lie and lose her job.

"Well, what's your story?" Dorothy asked as her face flushed red with dissatisfaction.

Sensing the ax was being raised high above her head, Clarice took the easier road. She didn't care about the day job all that much. It was intense, demanding, and all of the staff was watched all the time either by Dorothy or Evelyn. Each of them ready to snap at any time from their own pressure-driven positions. But her evening job, well that was an entirely different world filled with entirely different people. Her evening name wasn't Clarice, but Natasha. Due to her complexion and her poise, she made it easy for the men to approach her. Seldom did they look any further for what they were shopping for in the glitter of the city lights.

"Ms. Dorothy, let me make this simple for you. I'll make the decision for you so you won't feel guilty or question your ability to perform your tasks. Yes, yes I know the two men. As you've stated, it would be highly unlikely for someone of my social status to ever encounter the likes of those business men embroiled in the ebb and flow of the unexpected proposal that is yet to be presented here tonight. Oh yes, I'm aware of the dinner party's purpose, it's embedded agendas, it's yet to be filled coffers. And, I'm not the little ignorant child that you assumed me to be. Having associated myself with the likes of those seated around the table, I've learned, like them, to take on the airs and act out the role needed to fool even you. Having made you aware of my other job, my venturing into the social circles of the wealthy willing to pay for my attention on the street corners and bars where drinks flow freely, I was asked to find out what I could about the purpose of this charade you've so skillfully supervised. It's to my benefit to leave your fine estate as I found it. Knowing that I've completed my agreement, my part of the bargain with those two men who walk the street nightly looking for a woman like me." she confessed.

After finishing her comments, Clarice reached up placing her hands around her neck, loosed the cloth ties that bound the full-fronted apron to her body, and dropped it to the floor.

"Good evening Ms. Dorothy. Just remember the secrets of the Farrington estate can't remain secret when business men seeking passion by means of women of the evening like myself. We can open the doors of truth. It's what we do to may our living. And one more thing, I can show myself out. I know the way."

With that final summary, Clarice turned, walked from the kitchen through the grand rotunda, and out the front door as opposed to her normal backdoor exit. She knew enough to bury them all, but now wasn't the time.

The deed was done.

Chapter

23

The Proposal

Dinner moved along quiet well in the grand dining room that hadn't seen such a display of wealth in many years. In the window in the far end of the kitchen, Dorothy stood condemning herself for how stupid she had to have been for allowing such a person into her servant's ranks. She knew her staff or so she thought. She'd investigated their backgrounds, the families. But for the first time since she'd been in the employment of the Farrington estate, she'd allowed someone to get the best of her. A spy had slipped in right under her nose.

She watched the men in the backyard walk toward the corner of the house to see who was leaving so early. They'd been instructed to bring the coaches or the drive the automobiles around front until requested by the butler when the guests were prepared to leave. But, there was something else that drew their attention.

Once exiting the house, Clarice walked gracefully across the front veranda and intentionally waved at the men at the back, the ones she knew. Taken by surprise to see her leaving so early, two of them walked closer to see where she was headed.

"Clarice! Clarice!" shouted one of the hands as he hastened his step. "You leaving already even without saying good-bye for the night?" the man asked.

Turning to see who was calling her name, Clarice stopped and waited for the man to catch up to her. "I'm no longer an employee of this fine estate!" she called out as soon as he was within hearing distance.

"What?"

"That's right. I've been let go."

"What happened?" he asked.

"It's not important. You know where to find me. Stop on by when you have time. Maybe I'll tell you all about it. But don't come broke. I don't do broke!" she laughed, leaned toward the man and kissed his cheek.

With little fond farewell, she walked the distance of the driveway to the front gate, turned one last time to catch a glimpse of the four men at the corner of the house. It wasn't difficult to leave the house, but it was to leave the four men waving good-bye.

She'd see them again.

The supervisor watched as Clarice disappeared out the front gate. It wasn't much of a loss. She'd only been at the house for two, maybe three months. Just long enough to stick her nose into the families affairs by using the men who worked there. The men waving their hands lowered them and returned to the others awaiting their call to drive the visitors back home.

Feeling satisfied grateful that the ordeal was over, Dorothy walked back to the cluster of servants waiting for the next course to be served.

"Now, let's get ourselves in order here. Need I address the polices and procedures as to how to serve properly?" asked Dorothy. She looked at each one. She expected each one to respond.

In unison, the staff shook their heads knowing full well what had happened to Clarice. None of them knew the exact words of the conversation, they didn't need to know. Clarice wasn't returning to the staff.

"We represent this estate. Mrs. Farrington expects us to do our jobs so let's do our jobs!" directed the oldest of the hired help.

Holding covered dishes, silver and gold chargers filled with the next item on the menu, all of the serving staff prepared to enter the dining room for the third time. They were to walk at a steady pace, place the covered dishes in front of the guests, remove the covers, and leave without being noticed or looking around.

"Serve from the right!" Dorothy repeated as she watched the first young girl enter the dining room making her way to the table.

Much to Dorothy's satisfaction, the rest of the evening's menu items were served without incident. There wasn't any looking around or violations of any protocol. It went as smooth as clock work. Once the dinner was over, the table was cleared leaving Mrs. Farrington to address the purpose of them being there. She'd planned the perfect menu, depended on her staff to conduct themselves in the proper manner, and now it was her turn to introduce the visitors and investors to the evening's topic for consideration.

After dinner setting were cleared from the table and the only thing remaining on the table were wine glasses, the server responsible for pouring the wine, walked briskly to the Mrs. Farrington's seated at the head of the table. He made sure to bring his napkin to wipe the bottle after each pouring. Leaning in from the right, he poured 4 oz into the glass, working his way from the middle of the glass to the side, stood back up, wiped he bottle and moved to the next guest. Continuing through the seated members, he finished up without wasting even one drop of Mrs. Farrington's most expensive Port Wine.

Evening toasts were made quickly and the gathering turned to the reason of them being invited. The Farrington sons were ready and waited on their mother to make the introduction to their proposal. She'd cover the minimal details as she knew them leaving the sticky parts to her oldest son. His knowledge of mechanical world was far beyond that of his mother. And, for that reason, her lack of knowledge on the subject, made her skeptical and reluctant to invest her own money. If the specific details could woe those more accustomed to inventions and their success rate, then her portion in the presentation would pay off.

As far as her younger son, Lance, an accountant, would present the 'numbers' justifying why the visitors should lay out their hard earned cash in hopes of getting a substantial return. This wasn't his first time he'd addressed a group of investor, but his success rate wasn't one to brag about. His presentations, even though factual and accurate, weren't taken seriously leaving the coffers empty as the attendees walked out with their money in tact. Tonight had to be different. His usual approach needed to be spit-shined to perfection. His future and the future of their estate depended on the evening's outcome. His mother's concern, as with each presentation he'd done before, was that his laissez fair attitude. She couldn't afford for him to throw cold water on the potential investors by his flippant comments. He needed to keep it business, strictly business.

"Everyone, I'd like to make a toast to each of you for your continued support and interest in the Farrington Estate over the years. I thank you all!" stated the matriarch in a full and robust voice.

Seated next to Mr. Hollingsworth, Sophia couldn't help but notice his daughters leaned into each other as if they were having a secret conversation. It wouldn't be the first time they'd done such a thing, but when one is invited to the Farringtons, you didn't make light conversation prior to or during what could be a multi-million dollar proposal. You just didn't do that at the dinner table.

Sophia Bloomingdale attended the most prestigious finishing schools money could afford. Her family, now mostly all deceased, was from a long line of Bloomingdales, proud and extremely wealthy. Sophia excelled in all of her classes, often surpassing those who'd shunned her, mocked her, and bullied her around. Her success was the best revenge she could've hoped for as her name was called more times than any other during awards day.

For this reason, Mr. Hollingsworth admired her. He knew what it took to fill the shoes she wore. And, for whatever reason, too many to number, his girls would never be as admired. He trusted Sophia more than his own blood.

Giggling back and forth, the girls put on a show hoping to attract the attention of the men seated at the table. But for Sophia, she didn't need to draw attention to herself. Her poise and her new dress, a deep crimson, did that for her.

Pulling her attention away from the antics of the girls, Sophia refocused herself on the conversation that was just getting started. Mrs. Farrington had completed her introduction and handed off the topic to her oldest son, Alexander. She trusted him far more than Lance. She loved them equally, but Alexander was more level-headed, more like his father. But, if she depended on Lance to move their dreams forward, sadly, the family wealth would be depleted within a year. He was more of the socialite, wooing the women with his dashing good looks, then leaving them wondering why he didn't propose. The cycle was never ending, the notoriety an embarrassment. The matriarch was fully aware of his inability to comply to the family's ethical code, but she had lectured her sons, now it was their responsibility to accept the consequences.

Having been introduced to the seated guests, Alexander stood, walked to the front of the table, and cleared his throat. Placing his notes on the table in front of him, he introduced himself.

"It's a great honor to have so many distinguished guest here at the Farrington Estate this evening. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Alexander Farrington. Seated among you is my brother and partner, Lance Farrington." began the senior son as cordial as possible.

With the brief introduction, Lance raised his hand in appreciation of being recognized then lowered it to the table. He wasn't really interested in the dinner party per se, but the idea of a fellow partner spurred the anticipation of addition money for production of the Farrington's invention. For the dinner party to hold any value as far as Lance was concerned, there had to be contracts with signed checks.

Focusing his attention on his notes before him, Alexander wasted not time creating a mental vision for those seated in front of him. He wanted them to understand for success to be achieved, sacrifices had to be made. But he also wanted his guests to know that once a commitment was made, each one of them had to hold true to their word until the dream was realized. Therefore, prior to the arrival of their guests, he took a moment to put together what he thought would be an introduction worthy of their attention.

..."This evening we've been given an opportunity. This opportunity, one that's intangible but real, can change lives, fill those who are empty with hope, and set one's ship of life on a better course. The opportunity given to each of us is called "choice." he stated.

He continued. "When the clock strikes twelve each midnight, for a fraction of a second, time is reset so that we can begin anew. The old day passes into eternity, the new day's promise is laid before us. It brings with it a chance and a choice to do things differently, to do them better. Will we make a change? Can we make a change? And if so, what with the decision be? What will be the consequences of those decisions? Hopefully, the passing yesteryear's failures have taught us lessons. Perhaps it opened our eyes a little wider so we can see a little clearer. Maybe the sorrow of those lost dreams have taught us to love the possibilities set before use more intensely, to given of ourselves unbegrudgingly, and to cherish a second chance as if it were our last. Is it a foregone conclusion that we will make the right choices? That would be an unfounded assumption. Therefore, as with any opportunity given to us, we make the decisions. As we take daily possession of our new opportunity, let us remember it too will pass leaving us with the associated consequences. This evening each of will be give an opportunity that, if taken seriously, will change not just your lives but the lives of this nation. As with any endeavor, the excitement, the thrill of the completion no matter how long it takes is seen differently by each person observing the results. Am I excited about this proposition I'll present to you? Yes, of course. To me, it's a great honor. For others, it might not be considered as such. It's not my intent to sound arrogant or boastful, I'm just simply relaying information for those who might be interested and sharing a portion of my dream. Many people give up on their dreams. Some lose sight of the finish line. But to see it to the end is what makes the difference. Never giving up will make all the difference for you as well!" he concluded.

Leaning back against the back of the chairs, most of the guests could only image what the rest of the presentation might hold. Alexander had presented an exquisite introduction laying the foundational concepts of trial and error, cause and effect. But most of all, he united them in under one central theme, to succeed a person must make a choice. He'd presented the initial concepts lofty enough to lure only the serious participants.

Several of those seated near Sophia squirmed in their seats as if they had just been asked to sign a check. But for Sophia, she caught a glimpse of a new tomorrow, a new world filled with brilliantly designed new invention that would make life easier. For Sophia, the speech was excellent, the speaker someone she'd already gotten to know, but that was their secret. He was smart, articulate, and a visionary. In comparison to his brother Lance, Alexander displayed all the attributes of a leader. He was dedicated, skillfully equipped to manage whatever challenge the Farrington estate might meet. In comparison, Lance, the younger of the two, didn't exude the same qualities. There was no doubt that he was the more handsome of the two, but for Sophia, it would take more than appearances to woo her.

When the provisional content of the presentation was completed, Alexander turned the remainder over for Lance the explain. The first part was imaginary, warranting further discussion, yet, the financial details explaining the potential monetary benefits if all went well would concrete the commitment. Investors want to be confidant that their investments will deliver for them the rate of return they expected.

Mr. Hollingsworth concentrated on the financial predictions related to the new invention being proposed by the Farringtons. His life had been spent taking risks, and for the most part, his investments had paid off. He wasn't sure if this new proposal would meet the mark as those in the past had done.

The wine glasses were empty asking for refreshing. The host waved her hand ever so slightly for Dorothy to notice. With the word given, Dorothy summoned the original server, chose the appropriate wine, and held the door for him to enter the dining room. It didn't take long to complete the assignment, cork the bottle, and exit the room.

"As we push forward into a new decade, we're surrounded with all types of new inventions. The Farrington proposal would revolutionize the cotton industry. Once completed, the harvesters would reduce the need for manual labor by at least sixty percent. Those who normally worked in the fields could be reassigned to a more productive position inside the factories. This invention would reduce the fatality rate due to heat stroke. You know as well as I that we need all of our employees at the wheel." Alexander summarized after he'd stepped back to the head of the table.

For Lance, the ladies at the table held more fascination. Granted, he needed to contain himself, show some interest in the dull meeting, but he couldn't wait until the pomp and circumstance was over. He'd presented his portion regarding the cost of doing business and the potential profits that could be made. Once his mother made the closing comments, he would be able to mingle with the guests, especially one particular visitor. She wore a dark crimson dinner dress draped at the shoulders. She was the most elegant creature he'd seen in some time. And for her to have been invited to the dinner party, well, that was one of the best coincidences he'd experienced in a long time.

Chapter

24

The Introduction

Sophia's heart beat frantically within her chest as she remembered the way he looked at her across the dinner table. If anyone had been looking they'd been able to see her becoming lost in his attraction. He was stunning, there was no doubt, but his willfulness to transgress in most every way kept her at bay. Whereas, Alexander, a more suitable potential husband material had his more cultured way of adoring her from afar. It wasn't if she'd speak to them, it was when. She'd been asked to the dinner party to accompany her uncle, purely a personal agenda item for Mr. Hollingsworth, but she'd fulfilled her obligation to him and wanted to meet some of the attendees. There never enough time to make an impression, to shake the hands of those in power. When invited the Farringtons, one made it their priority to be introduced to as many men as possible. The social parties and gathers were few and far between in the region that dominated the cotton production. Mr. Hollingsworth would see that she'd be introduced to them all by name before the evening ended.

Once everyone exited the dining room, the business men and the matriarch retired to the library. She'd made it known that she would accompany the usual all-men group to further discuss the elements of the proposal in more depth. Besides, it was her house and her money that was on the line just as much as all the men she'd invited. Pouring Brandy and motioning the guests to partake, Alexander knew there were some who'd rather not partner up with the Farringtons. Then on the other hand, the powerhouse, Mr. Hollingsworth was all in. He had money and he liked taking risks. The groundwork had been laid, financial briefing supported the possibility of a big return on his invest. So, he came loaded with his check book to take on 25 percent of the endeavor.

Of all the guests who had been invited, Mr. Hollingsworth, Aldridge to Mrs. Farrington, was allowed to address the matriarch by her first name. Unknown to the attendees, Olivia Farrington was one of the few women in the region that had attended the finest finishing school her family could afford. It was during that time of her life that she met Aldridge Hollingsworth. They hit it off, but nothing more ever developed after Olivia fell for Mr. Farrington during a summer evening's lawn gather. Yet, the small flame kindled during that first meeting allowed the two to remain close friends and secret admirers from afar.

"Olivia, your dinner party and the speech was great. I know the arrangements and the floor setting was your idea. You knew I liked that particular wine as well. For that, I thank you." commented Aldridge as he picked up one of the Brandy glasses. Stepping closer toward the host, he looked at her the way he did the first time he met her. Her smile ignited a fire within him that still burned even up until this party. Regrettably, he nor Olivia ever perused it any further, neither stoked the embers.

"Thank you Aldridge. You've always been so sweet." remarked Olivia who's face glowed warmly.

"Oh, Olivia, I'd like for you to meet my niece." stated Mr. Hollingsworth as he turned to wave Sophia into the room. As dinner was finishing up, Mr. Hollingsworth instructed Sophia to remain in the hall adjacent to the library until he waved her to come in. It would've been inappropriate and unacceptable for her to enter without being invited. Therefore, as ordered, she lingered a moment outside the door until she was told to join him at the cabinet.

"Olivia, let me introduce you to my niece. She's from my brother-in-laws side of the family."

Motioning Sophia closer, he smiled with approval as he watched her glide across the floor. She was breathtaking. It wasn't just the dress, even though it was spectacular, but it was the way she carried herself. A true Bloomingdale who possessed courage, beauty, and intelligence. No matter where he invited her to join him through out her time in the area, she was the rose upon his lapel.

"Sophia, may I introduce Lady Farrington of the Farrington estate. She's been a formidable force in the establishment of our businesses and their success for many years. Regrettably, Mr. Farrington has been gone some ten years now, but Mrs. Farrington stepped up to the challenge. And, if I might add, she's equaled by none." commented Aldridge in a show of solidarity.

Sophia followed the introduction with a slight, but recognizable curtsy followed by an extended right hand. The two hands touched lightly, shook hands, and withdrew them quickly.

"Mrs. Farrington, how gracious of you to allow me to attend. Your home is lovely." commented Sophia in an attempt to be polite and respectful.

"Why thank you Ms. Bloomingdale, Aldridge is one of my dearest friends. He knew who to invite to accompany him. It appears he's made the right choice this evening." Olivia revealed knowing full well that the two Hollingsworth daughters were invited only out of her good graces and only because of her and Aldridge's friendship. Otherwise, the two silly, gossipy tarts would've been left at home. Their mere presents was an accident waiting to happen. They weren't adept to the culture of the Farrington estate. In the past it had been rumored the two were in pursuit of her sons. Having been made aware of the comment, Mrs. Farrington was determined to keep them away at all cost. This evening's party was an exception. There was no way of anticipating what lengths the girls would go to ensnare her sons. And, that couldn't be allowed to happen. Her sons were her sons. It was her responsibility to keep them from their own vices as best she could, especially Lance. Lance was viewed as a careless, reckless cannon. He didn't adhere to the family's values or customs dictated by their family's culture. Therefore, against his will, his mother kept a tighter reign on him than she did her older son Alexander. It was just the way things were carried out and for good reason. According to the local society pages, Lance had been 'caught' with some unsavory females, those ladies of the night, who were pursuing shall we say unacceptable evening events. Mrs. Farrington knew it wasn't the first time, but she was hoping and praying it would be the last. She'd done everything she could to keep her son on the straight and narrow, but it wasn't working as well as she'd wanted it to. It seemed as though Lance was destined to cast a dark shadow over the Farrington name leaving in its wake a reputation that wouldn't be easily hid.

"Olivia, I must say you sons have grown so quickly. And that Alexander, well it won't be long before he'll be qualified enough to take over your estate. In time, he'll be as successful as your late husband, God rest his soul." commented Mr. Hollingsworth as he turned to observe her two sons across the library.

Laughing, Olivia held her opinion to herself as far as how qualified either of them might be. According to her last discussion with her sons, neither of them had acquired the necessary skills to even convince her to invest another penny much less investing thousands. That skill would take more time and more experience than what either of them possessed at the moment. She knew that they wanted to move forward, but their personal approach wasn't refined enough to make the right impressions in a world they knew little about.

"Ah, Alexander, I see you've made your way through the crowd. If you have a moment, I'd like to introduce Mr. Hollingsworth's niece. She's been a real asset to the their family. Perhaps it would be to our advantage to see what she thinks about your little invention. Another's opinion is always good to compare to our own, wouldn't you say?" asked the matriarch as she turned to begin the introductions.

Wondering what she'd say and throwing caution to the wind, Sophia turned around to face the only person at the dinner that could persuade her to either change her opinion of the harvester or stand fast on her own convictions.

As the matriarch turned toward Sophia to introduce her son, Alexander cut her off. Standing between the visitor and his mother, he extended his hand and expected Sophia to do the same. It was awkward for a moment, but Mrs. Farrington took the cue, stepped back, and allowed her oldest the floor.

"Miss Bloomingdale, let me welcome you to our home this evening. I'm Alexander. It's been my pleasure to have had you dining with us and listening to our proposal." stated Alexander as he moved slowly toward Sophia who felt his approach was a bit premature.

"Thank you Mr. Farrington, my name is Sophia Bloomingdale. It was only because of my uncle's good graces that enabled me to accompany him to this fine estate. And, I must say you home is exquisite." commented Sophia as she turned to survey the room looking to see who was staying and who might be leaving for the evening. She and her uncle were staying the night only because the return trip was tiring and unsafe during the night hours on some of the back roads. Of course, her uncle's daughters would be staying as well, but they were more interested in impressing the remaining men with their silly laughs and flirtatious comments than understanding the potential of making a profit in the business world.

Leaning forward, Alexander took Sophia's right hand, leaned down and kissed it lightly. Releasing it as quickly as held lifted it, Alexander began his pursuit of wooing Sophia with his charm, or so it seemed His only obstacle, if he wanted to consider him an obstacle, was his brother Lance. Lance was extremely aggressive when it came to the pursuit of any lady. He didn't care where or what they were about, all he knew was that his ego drove him. It was not the Farrington way, but it was who he was.

Once the unexpected greeting and the kiss was over, Sophia stirred the conversation toward the evening's speech's content. It might be a long shot for her, but if she could impress the only eligible bachelor at the evening's events with her knowledge of the business, then it might give her a chance to talk with him more once the other guests were gone. There were many things about the business world she'd learned from her uncle that he might find interesting.

The two moved away from Mr. Hollingsworth and the matriarch to find themselves in a less populated area of the house. Sophia was excited about the guest's knowledge of his world, but even more excited about her as a woman. His life's experiences with women weren't at all like that of his brother. Lance was more of a Casanova, a man notorious for seducing any woman he might find to his liking. For Alexander, his goal was to find a woman he could settle down with, raise a family, and die at an old age. His life would be considered fulfilled if he were able to find a woman who'd live up to his expectations. Sophia was the first woman who he felt could live up to those expectations. She was beautiful, cultured in the finest finishing schools, and intelligent. What more could he asked for?

The matriarch watched as the two walked out of the library leaving her and Mr. Hollingsworth to revive old memories. It wasn't unlike her sons to monopolize the time of any beautiful woman who might visit the mansion, but Sophia was the first one she actually approved of for her son.

The two strolled through the rotunda as Alexander pointed at one portrait and then another in an attempt to introduce the young lady to his linage, his heritage that had lived in the region for over 75 years. They were considered 'old money' by many. Sophia listened to the stories being told by her host, but she wasn't really interested in the dead men who stared at her from canvases around the circle walls. No, she'd been captivated by her host. His gentle manner, his kind words, and of course, his knowledge of the business that made him who he was.

Alexander felt his heart beat desperately in his chest as he walked out on the veranda. There in the moon light, he turned to her, pulled her into him, and kissed her as no other man had before. It was a kiss only a husband and wife would share. His passion wasn't hid and her surprise wasn't evident. Besides, the two were more than just acquaintances, more that just friends.

Pulling herself away from him as if she were protesting, Sophia took out her lace handkerchief, dabbed her lips, and turned away. "What's the meaning of this?" she asked under her breath. "What's this have to do with the reason I came her this evening?" she inquired as she turned to face him.

"Is this the way you try to impress your guests? If it is, may I suggest you try to find another way, another more convincing!" she suggested.

"Sophia, Miss. Bloomingdale, surely you could tell how much I admired you this evening. Even during dinner, I watched your every move. Your beauty is unmatched. Your style and grace is beyond anyone who's ever come here. I must say, you are exquisite." he said.

"And those compliments are suppose to allow you to handle me like one of your servants?" she asked with a show of disdain attempting to deceive those who might have seen them embrace.

"Oh, I see you've been insulted by my attempt to show you how I feel about you. I know it's crazy, but I watched you as you existed your coach and I knew then I must have you. You're the only woman I've met that I've felt this way about." he explained as he turned her toward him, grinned ever so slightly. It was all for show, a performance unlike any before.

"And I'm suppose to just surrender to you as if I have no will of my own, is that what you expected me to do?" snapped Sophia in a show of independence. "Well I'm not one of those women of the night that you or your brother can just do with as you please. I've read the papers, I've heard the rumors. If this is what you think, then there's a lot about me that you don't know." she replied

"Oh Sophia, I didn't mean any harm. And, I'm sorry for taking you by surprise. But what I'm telling you is the truth. I'd like to see you again, soon. Maybe you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Maybe you can find it in your heart to feel for me as I feel for you. Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight? Don't you believe I can love you, be with you, take care of you, respect you? Well I can. I can give you the world if you asked. I'd give you anything!" stated Alexander as he slowly moved closer to her.

Sophia wasn't some child or servant, but there was no denying that what he was saying was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to be loved without feeling as though she was being used. She needed to be held, caressed, and kissed passionately. What she was looking for was hard to find in a world filled with dominating men, superficial snobbery. She wondered if his words rang true or was it just another charade to persuade her to surrender her will, her life, her soul, her being to a man she'd just met not more that a month ago on the streets of the city.

"You must be talking about my younger brother. Now he's the one you need to watch out for. He has a story true enough, but that's all it is, a story. He's life is filled with ladies of the night, but it's all for fun. There's no promise or commitment or love involved. And, Sophia, that's the truth." stated Alexander. "Is there no sense of adventure? Is there no room for me in your heart? Is there no possibility for me Sophia? My heart burns to know you." he admitted as he once again pulled her against him in the shadows of the umbrella trees that cast their branches over the veranda.

Sophia surrendered this time to his passionate pleas. It was true, she wanted him as well, but was it to soon? Was it all a dream, a wonderful dream that was pushing her forward so fast she wasn't able to see or hear or speak. "Oh, Alex, kiss me." she breathed in his ear as she slid her lips to meet his.

Both knew it was destiny that drew them together.

Both knew that it was more than fate that would bind them to the promises whispered on the veranda as evening's grasp on the last sliver of light gave up and prayed it's final prayer.

Alex knew as the evening's last flicker of light was swallowed up in darkness of night that he'd fallen in love with her again. Sophia knew in a moments time that life had answered her prayers, that fate had intervened, and above all, love had helped her conjure her greatest fear of being left alone.

Chapter

25

The Intruder

As quickly as the moment of destiny had started, it ended as Lance rushed out to scurry his brother away for yet another dull, meaningless discussion with one of the visitors. Had it been Lance that was being summoned by the matriarch, he'd simply ignore it and resume his advances. But, Alexander was atoned to the requirements of a more structured life. His commitments and loyalty run much deeper than his younger brother's did, therefore, when his mother summoned him, he responded.

"And who do we have here?" asked Lance as if he didn't know the young lady enfolded in the arms of his older brother.

Reluctantly, Alexander slid his arm away from Sophia and she stepped forward for the introduction. For Alexander, the mere thought of his brother intruding into his personal affairs was an a front worthy of admonishment after the guest's departure.

Composing herself for the grand introduction to the famous Lance Farrington, Sophia waited for Alexander's lead. There wasn't much she didn't know about Lance. His antics, his blatant disregard for his family's adherence to the cultural norms left little to the imagination as what his character was all about. He was a self-indulgent renegade and had been for most of his adult life. Even during his adolescence his mother was forced to tighten her leash a few more notches to keep him away from the newspaper write up and out of the local gossip grapevine.

"Lance, may I introduce to you Sophia Bloomingdale from the Bloomingdale family. As you know, they are the unparalleled leaders in the textile industry." stated Alex. His eyes watched his brother like a mongoose would a cobra. The slightest movement that could be interpreted as unsavory by Lance would cause the two otherwise complimentary brothers to become immediate enemies. Alexander was determined to guard his prize and defend her honor at all costs.

Like Alexander, Sophia listened to the way Lance spoke and watched the facial expressions of the intruder. Even though Lance was by far the more attractive of the two men didn't mean he had a Carte Blanche, unlimited discretionary power to act, when it came to the women who attended the dinner party. And, as far as Sophia was concerned, it definitely didn't give him a free turn at the wheel when it came to her and her passion.

Reaching her small, pale hand toward the known aggressor, Sophia could only image what could happen. She'd known about this person for sometime. Articles in the society section of the region paper wasted no time casting doubt about his sincerity, his commitment to the expected decorum of the wealthy. And what was worse, he didn't try to adhere to it. His mother, even in her older age, fought for the family reputation against a seemingly tireless adversary.

"Ah yes, Sophia Bloomingdale." said Lance as he reached for her hand which she reluctantly extended. It was a customary gesture in the civilized cultured circle, perhaps even a hold over from a more royal, regale time when honor and respect demanded compliance.

Leaning down to kiss Sophia's hand, Lance's mind was filled with imaginary situations where he'd fulfill his god-given right in the world of the wealthy. He and his brother were entitled, or so he thought, to whatever they wanted. The Farrington name itself garnered a degree of acceptable marginal behavior, or so he thought. But within seconds of his introduction and completion of him kissing Sophia's hand, she withdrew it as if the cobra was about to strike.

"Mr. Farrington, your brother tells me that your portion of the proposal this evening was outstanding. As a learned observer, I too must confess your justification for people to invest in this, this dream of your family's was admirable. I wish you all the luck in the world, but as for me, well, I have no intentions of investing anything in the Farrington dynasty nor their fanciful dreams that you two have dreamed up." she laughed. "I'm sure you can understand that my family, the Bloomingdales are by far one of the largest and wealthiest families in Philadelphia and New York City."

"Well, thank you Ms. Bloomingdale for your, shall we say, candid remarks. But, our history speaks for itself wouldn't you say. Our past endeavors, those I'm sure you're acquainted with, have garnered for us unpublished successes. And yet, our family still steps forward to acquire exactly what we want. That's the Farrington trademark." he answered her as if he possessed a poison dart ready to impel her.

"I'm sure, as you've stated, there have been numerous battles along the way. But, Mr. Farrington you must admit, as do I, that no one wins every battle. No one is always successful. And, for the sake of argument, no one gets everything they want or desire." noted Sophia with a chuckle.

"Alexander, if you would." said Sophia as she offered her hand for him to escort her back into the rotunda where some of the other guests were preparing to depart. Her introduction and discussion with Alexander's younger brother was over. She'd made her point, a rather obvious one. She wasn't interested in the likes of him, never would be.

Lance bowed in response to Sophia's departing words and watched his brother return her to the crowd. It had been the first time that he'd encountered such an independent woman. She, unlike the silly Hollingsworth girls, had a mind of her own and wealth to sustain her. She didn't need to be with someone unless she wanted to be with them. The distaste of the introduction lingered far longer than he anticipated, but the night wasn't over. He was a citizen of the evening and he knew that anything was possible if he kept focused. He'd met many women in the streets and saloons of the nearby city who were as aggressive as Sophia, but they fell to his charms as would she.

Turning to see the lady in the designer dress being engulfed in the sea of people crowding in the rotunda, Lance set about planning how he could find his way to impress the lady in crimson. Up until the moment he spoke to her, he'd never met a woman with such veracity about a woman's right to be her own person. It was as if she incentivized him to know her better. If given the chance, he'd make her see things his way. Like the ladies of the night, it was his opinion that she needed to be given a reason to see things his way. He knew once she saw him the way the others did, she'd forget all about his older brother's elementary attempt to woo her.

Chapter

26

From Tattered Pages

In the solitude of the night, setting in the glow of the candle, shadows flickering around the room, Sophia finished reading Felicity the last page of the third letter. The story was unrelenting giving one clue after another as to who Sophia was in a world much like that one that Felicity saw on the magic box when she was a child. She'd formed a foregone conclusion that the world she saw was the world her mama grew up in. The assumption had proven to be right. Her mama made it clear that her husband, Mr. Craft passed away sometime around Felicity's third birthday. At that time, her mama gave birth to her younger sister.

Was she ever going to know the truth that surrounded the man she called daddy? If so, would she and her mama meet the challenge brought on by knowing that truth, one that could turn them against one another. Would the realization create such an unexpected barrier between them that she'd never forgive her mama for withholding the fact that her last name might not be Craft after all?

...

When storms churn up from the gulf, they bring with them moisture-laden air filled with torrents of rain. For Sophia, the storm battering against the tin walls of their shanty were the strongest she'd heard in some time. The winds fought the huge umbrellas that covered the entire length of he community tossing them back and forth much like a boxer does as he tosses his opponent against the ropes. Had it not been that the trees were almost a century old and had grown sturdy trunks with roots buried deep in the earth, they would've been toppled by the first gusts.

Mama laid the five pages on the table in front of her and Felicity. That portion of the story, that segment of her life was open for her daughter to hear and see for herself. No longer would it haunt Sophia like specters in the dark. It wasn't a regretful time nor was it a time of remorse. No, it was a time of celebration, a time of fulfillment of a personal goals. At that time in her life, Lance wasn't her idea of the perfect husband. No, his antics and loose lifestyle pushed her away, whereas, Alexander, a stable man with focus in his life, drew her to him like a moth to a flame.

"Mama, have you always loved this man, this Alexander?" asked Felicity as she looked at her mama's face in the glowing, dying candle light. In the glow, her mama seemed angelic as she reminisced about a world that no longer existed. It must have meant a lot to her. It must have been a happy time for her.

Sophia didn't answer but turned her face away to not let Felicity see her eyes fill with tears, her heart stop beating. The storm worried her as well, but not as much as the rest of the story waiting to be told.

The reality was that if she lost the shanty, they'd have nothing and no where to go. If they lost the shanty, they lost everything. With whispered prayers, Sophia wanted nothing more than for the winds to subside.

One wave of rain after another pushed through the valley leaving in its wake dead branches, flushed out birds. Those living in shanty town all meet the same fate when the partners of chaos attack them. Wind and rain, twins of destruction was making their presents known. Either the squatters survived or they don't. It was as simple as that when the fury of the storm knocked on their doors.

Sophia turned to Felicity having considered the last question as important as the first. Had she always loved the man she was describing? Were the feelings she had for him considered love? Or were the feelings an expression of regret or remorse for her moment when someone violated her personal values, a moment when the shadow person entered her room without her permission. That intrusion, that violation in the night cost her everything. It cost her her life. But, it wasn't that she didn't know the man who made love to her, she was just afraid to believe it. Would it be considered a violation if the man turned out to have been her beloved Alexander?

Having opened and read four of the twelve letters she'd hid away when she received them, Sophia knew there was more to the story than whether she loved the man or not. There was much more.

"Felicity, honey, you'll see once I've finished with the letters and the explanation, you'll have your answer you've searched for all of your life. And, hopefully I'll have the peace I've prayed for since before you were born.

Chapter

27

The Chastening

A darker glow hovered over the mansion as threatening clouds began to cover the sky. Yet, it didn't seem to keep anyone from exiting the mansion and venturing out into the estate's garden. A late night stroll to clear their mind some called it. Several of the businessmen took the opportunity to enjoy a Cuban, an imported cigar reserved for the elites. For many it was an attempt to free themselves from answering the question of the evening. Was there to be investors willing to sign their checks and the contracts presented by Mrs. Farrington? She needed strong, unwavering men to follow through with their commitments, their word. That was the expected outcome for inviting them to the party. Even if it meant only a limited partnership, then so be it. But, like all the times before, the matriarch hoped for more.

From the veranda, Mr. Hollingsworth could see his flirtatious out-of-control daughters flaunting their wares, entangled in the arms of any man he'd dare ask. It wasn't unusual. No matter where he took them, they disgraced the family name. He'd warned them time and time again of their unacceptable behavior. And, as before, they laughed it off as though it was a sermon by the local priest during their Sunday morning services. Their father failed to see the humor in the exposed shoulders, the nearly bare breasts as the girl's suitors took their liberty without confrontation. It wasn't what he'd intended for his daughters. It wasn't what he intended to let continue as long as he was alive. He'd address their behavior once he was home, but to initiate a chastening in front of his host's guests would only cause more acts of defiance.

Stepping up along side Mr. Hollingsworth, the matriarch slid her arm into his. She'd always admired the businessman, her friend, her unsuccessful suitor those many years ago. "You know Aldridge, you can't make a silk purse from a sow's ear. I'm not trying to insult your girls, but let's be honest. They don't listen to you and they have no intentions of ever changing. It would be better to let the continue down their road of destruction. I'm not wishing any sorrows upon them, but they might possibly find a man who would make them into honorable wives." lectured his old friend.

He knew it was the truth. He may not have wanted to hear it, but she was right. He'd done all he could, prayed all he could, and given all he had to give. It was time to cut them loose. It was time to let them become whatever they wanted to become. If their paths lead them into the valley of death and poverty simply because they chose not to listen, the he'd let them go.

"Olivia, you've always known what needed to be done, yet you yourself have a prodigal son yet to return to the fold. You know as well as I do that your youngest boy is out of control. He needs to return to the family, support the values that have made him a prominent member of our community, howbeit, the center of gossip. You stand proudly to admonish my girls, but you too need to do the same with Lance." rebutted Aldridge.

Even though the words cut her, she knew that he was telling the truth. It's been some time since she'd spoken to her son about his ridiculous behavior, his intentional acts of degraded morality. As her lifetime friend pointed out, Lance was no better than her son, in fact, he was far worse. Had it not been for the fact that she knew the editor at the newspaper office as well as she did, Lance's excessive indulgence in unacceptable debauchery would've been known all over town. Even with the social connections, his name surfaced from time to time. It was one of her thrones in the flesh that would never be removed.

"I'm not going to say you haven't told me this before. You know and I know that Lance is someone who'd rather walk a mile to insult the family name than walk ten feet to honor it. Do you wonder if it grieves me? The answer to that is yes, of course." answered Olivia as she held her friend's arm even more tightly.

"Olivia, we need to get back to the guests. They'll understand a short break to get a breath of fresh air, but we can't linger. It could be interpreted as slighting them. Let's not give them any more to talk about than my daughters already have. I'll lock down the social circles about my girls, but that Lance of yours will need more than a lecture." Aldridge said as he turned, kissed Olivia on the forehead, and lead her back inside.

Walking together back into the house, Olivia couldn't help but mention to Aldridge how similar his girls and her Lance acted. One would almost guess that Lance was their half brother by his shenanigans. There wasn't any proof of that, but the behavior was almost the same.

After a few moments, Dorothy had all the guests rounded up for the final comments, questions, and writing of the checks. That was the purpose of the dinner party. Why else would the Farringtons invite over 15 people to listen to a proposition. The matriarch loved her circle of friends, but for the most part, the attendees weren't part of the group. No, her friends, mostly woman about her age, met in a more causal setting, tea and biscuits.

"Madam, everyone has been accounted for and are waiting in the drawing room for you." commented Dorothy. After getting the approval from the matriarch, Dorothy disappeared into the huge kitchen to make sure things were finished up, dishes washed, dried, and things put away. For Dorothy, there was nothing more gratifying than having everything in its place.

"See to it that things are finished up! I have to check on the upstairs staff before it's time to retire." spouted Dorothy as she left the kitchen staff to complete their jobs.

Evelyn Trudeau, who preferred to be called Evie, managed the upstairs staff as efficiently as Dorothy did the downstairs staff. She'd been employed for some time and there had been few complaints from the matriarch about her staff. She prided herself on her ability to get the job done. Keeping the upstairs ready for those unexpected arrivals or those staying over the night never was a problem for her. She, like Dorothy, was a no nonsense person. The matriarch liked that most about her.

Ascending to the top of the second floor, Dorothy was met by Lance on his way to the evening's send off of the guests. He knew that Evie wasn't up for his foolishness, but he liked chiding her anyway. His complete lack of respect for most of the employees was noticed, not only by the staff itself, but by the visitors who frequented the estate.

"Hey, Evie! Did you get any proposals from any of the lookers this evening? You know your a fine looking woman in need of a man!" belted Lance as he passed her at the landing.

"Mr. Farrington, you ain't got no business talkin' to me 'bout my personal stuff. You know that. If your mama knew all the things you been up to, well, she'd have a heart attack!" snapped Evie.

"Come on now, you know you saw something that struck your fancy tonight. There's lots of men here looking for a good worker like you!" Lance countered as he reached out and pulled the older lady to him as if he were about to dance with her to the music being played in the drawing room.

"You better stop all this messin' 'round. Your mama ain't gettin' any younger you know. There's comin' a time when you or your brother got to take over this place. You better mind your manners!" ordered Evie as she chastised the younger man for his foolishness.

"Come on now! You know it's all in fun! Ain't no better way to get yourself a good man than to give him a little of your time!" responded Lance as he swirled the older woman around as if they had come to the climax of the song.

"I ain't selling myself young man! I ain't doin' it!" she said as Lance let her go and stepped away.

"Well, from what I see, there's a lot of men here who been eyeing you!" laughed Lance as he walked across the landing and descended the staircase.

"You better think 'bout what I just told you! Ain't no way of knowing how life will turn out. You better heed my word!" called out Evie as she turned to get back to her job.

"That boy will be the death of his mama, just mark my word." she whispered as she saw Dorothy approaching in the distance.

"Evelyn, I have the number of people who'll be staying the remainder of the weekend. Looks like 8 of the guests have chosen to remain with us until Monday morning. I know you've prepared the rooms earlier, but see that the beds are turned, fresh linens and towels for all." stated Dorothy. Even though Dorothy knew her dependable, loyal, and fully competent supervisor knew full well what needed to be done, she took the time to make the comment in case Mrs. Farrington asked her if she made sure things were ready. At no time had Evelyn left things undone.

"Oh, one other thing. I heard what you said to Lance. And you know, it was the truth. He needs someone to chastise him, put him in his place from time-to-time." agreed Dorothy. "Let me know when all is ready. Our guests should be ready to retire around 8:30."

Chapter

28

The Confrontation

Having asked Dorothy to place pens around the drawing room for the signing, Mrs Farrington felt confident that the evening had been successful. The dinner was elegant, her introduction seemed to be beyond reproach, and the proposal delivered by her oldest was professional prepared and delivered. There were a couple of hiccups along the way when the Hollingsworth's tarts dropped their dinnerware and pushed a wine glass off onto the floor, yet even with these distractions, all went well. Those silly girls would do anything to get the attention of the men at the party. It was an embarrassment how far they'd go to flaunt themselves.

"Once we're all seated, have Lawrence place a copy of the contract on the table in front of each of the guests." directed Mrs. Farrington as she turned her attention to the final moments of the evening.

As with each party's finale, especially if there are contracts involved, Dorothy herself was more than willing offered her assistance when ever she could. She knew that the boys were in the lime light, in a position that might possibly change the course of their future, therefore, she hastened her pace to complete the job. Placing the contracts in front of each of the men at the table while avoiding the women wasn't unusual. None of the women in the room were at the level of the matriarch as far as being a successful business person. Therefore, none of them would be allowed to become a partner. Besides, the only women at the dinner party were the two Hollingsworth girls and Sophia Bloomingdale.

Leaning sideways toward Sophia, Mr. Hollingsworth whispered that he'd like for her to review the document for him. There was no way he was going to ask either of his daughters, besides, they weren't interested in the slightest as to what was in the contract.

Reading the fine print wasn't as easy as it had been in his earlier days. She nodded and waited for the contract distribution to be completed. Once Dorothy left the room, each of the privileged guests lifted the contracts up and began to review it. For the space of 15 minutes, no one spoke a word. It was all about business. Some were more serious about investing than others, but all of them wanted a piece of the action at some level of return.

"This contract offers a minimum of 5% return on every dollar and as high as 25% depending on its success. It states that the corporation will at some time go public selling stock on the market. Now that could be risky. Yet, as you know, many people have made a lot of money buying a selling stock." commented Sophia as she turned to her uncle who was already to sign the contract. At his age, he figured what did he have to lose. And, if Olivia was half the woman she had been in the past, she'd see that her boys held true to the mark.

Once Sophia finished reading the contract and making her opinion known to her uncle, Mr. Hollingsworth picked up the pen and signed his name. After all, he was an investor. He'd made all of his money investing in other people's dreams. What was one more?

The matriarch moved slowly around the room answering questions, making comments for those who were hesitant. She knew, as well as her sons, that only a few, the well financed, would sign the contracts. That's the way the cards were played in the world of speculation. Any investment is simply a game of chance.

Once all of the participants were finished either signing or rejecting the contract, Alexander walked around the long dining table collecting them. He was somewhat surprised that the two men who accompanied Mr. Hollingsworth didn't even read the contract. It seemed a bit suspicious, but there wasn't anything more to say or do to convince them to join the family.

"Dorothy, alert the staff that we're approaching the closing moments. We'll gather the signed papers, thank the guests for their attention, and bid them good night. Once they've departed, the remain guests for the weekend will be ready to retire." stated the Madam.

It was the same routine after each party, most left, some stayed. This time, Mr. Hollingsworth, his daughters, and Sophia would be staying over. This would be the first time Aldridge would elected to stay in some time. The times before he came by himself. It wasn't out of the ordinary for him. He wasn't afraid to travel through the night alone. He and his driver had made the trip many times. But this particular occasion dictated that he remain until Monday. By that time, his daughters would be rested as well as Sophia.

The butler saw to the distribution of coats and hats, walked to the front door, and made sure each conveyance was ready to depart. Seldom had he seen such a collection of new automobiles lined up in single file to collect their owners. Following them, a few carriages and coaches belonging to the nearby residents brought up the rear. He waved each forward as the guest departed making the exit process simple and expeditious.

"Madam, all the guests have departed." he informed the matriarch.

"Thank you." she replied and walked away with a sense of relief. It wasn't that she didn't like dinner parties, but as she became another year older, the whole event seemed to become more tiring.

"Madam, the other guests have been escorted to their respective rooms. Their luggage was placed there upon their arrival."

"Thank you Dorothy. It's been a long evening. I'll be retiring myself in a little while. There's only one thing I need to take care of before that time."

Walking away from Dorothy, the matriarch went to join her sons who were finishing picking up the signed contracts. It was to the surprise that there were more than three who'd signed to become a part of the new endeavor. Each wanted a fair share of the profits, that's for sure, but they were willing to invest. Their commitment reflected the sizable checks left on the table on top of their contracts.

"Now, that's the way to do business." commented Alexander who was overjoyed with the outcome.

As for Lance, it was just another evening, just another dinner party, and just another group of boring elderly men who tossed the weight around in the form of their bank accounts. He wasn't impressed, but for his mother's sake, he smiled right along with his older brother. And, for the time being, he'd follow the rules and comply to the family's commitment to bring the new invention to life. That's what they did. That's who they were.

"Mother, have you ever seen the like of the men who came this evening. They were, in my opinion, truly interested in the possibilities we presented. And, these checks, have you looked at the number of zeros on each of them?" asked the eldest as he single-handedly gathered the last of the papers up, and placed them on the chest setting across from the table.

There was a certain air about his mother he'd not sensed in some time. She was hesitant to speak, but she needed to speak. What she had to say may, in some respects, be taken as a lecture by Lance, not so much by Alexander. What she had to say needed to be said. What she intended to say would cut them both to the bone.

"Mother, are you okay? We did exactly as you directed us to do this evening. I would've thought you'd be pleased." commented Lance as he moved closer to his brother at the head of the table.

"I'm not dissatisfied, but there's few things I want to explain to the both of you sons. First, this estate, the dynasty, this life that we enjoy pivots on my good name that my late husband left me. We're not indebted to anyone for anything. Therefore, for any proposition to work, we must deliver. There's no time to gander, to look around, to single out, to taste the forbidden fruit. This behavior will cause our family's projects to plummet. It's up to you two to fulfill your promises, to do the deals, to make this work for the family. Now, Lance, this whole conversations isn't completely directed to you, but as you know and your brother knows, you can't seem to keep yourself out of the alleys and back streets of our city. You'd think by now you'd come to understand that the harder you try to destroy your own life, the easier it is to destroy your family. Your father, God rest his soul, isn't here to direct your steps, that job has been left for me to do. Thus, I'm issuing a warning to you both, there is to be no more pandering in the streets from now on. This dinner party was held to assist you, assist us to move forward. If that isn't enough for you, then I don't know what to tell you. I've been informed of both of you swaying from the straight and narrow. That's to come to an immediate end. Should there be any further indiscretions that I'm made away of, you will cut off from this family with no chance of reconciliation. I hope I've made myself clear. For us to survive, we must tow the line. For our family to succeed, we've been measured against a plum line unlike any other family has been. Now, these comments are without rebuttal. Either make the changes you need to make or all of us fail." summarized the matriarch as she stared directly at both of her sons.

For a moment, neither of the boys new what to say or whether they should respond. The message was clear, the outcome crystal clear. Either they stepped to the front or they'd be let out the front gate.

"I don't want to have to repeat myself. Is this clear?" she asked.

The boys answered simultaneously as if they were still in school under the tutelage of the most harsh school master. It wasn't a surprise to them though. Both of them had been less that saints over the last year or so, especially Lance. Neither of them had ever been lectured by their mother in such a crass manner. They weren't sure what had set her off, but whatever it was must've been something to see.

As for a response, the boys simply answer with yes mother. What more was there to say. Her intensity drove the point home. The reality she shared was on point. She knew her boys, both of them. She knew if she didn't pull in the reigns that the dinner party she'd hosted was all for naught. So, it was her intention to draw the line in the sand for them to clearly see that we meant business. Cross the line, you're out.

With papers in a folder, Alexander held them at his side. The three Farrington felt confident about the outcome. The three walked to the study, put the papers away, and walked to their respective rooms.

With little to do at this point, the house began to settle down, everyone vacated the downstairs, and the upstairs staff took over. There wasn't anything that needed to be done, but for the sake of the Farrington estate, Evie walked the floors inquiring if there was anything those who elected to stay could possibly need. The upstairs staff were always on call when guest stayed over. They were required to respond a moments notice.

"I see. Yes Madam, I'll get right to it." answered Evie as she turned away from Mrs. Farrington and walked off in the direction where Mr. Hollingsworth's room was located. Once there, she passed on the message, turned, and left.

Evidently, the madam of the house wanted to invite Mr. Hollingsworth down for a final night cap.

He responded as if his wife were still yet alive. he responded immediately.

Chapter

29

On Bated Breath

If there was ever a time for caution, it was now, thought Alexander. Seldom did he cross his mother, defy her warnings but, disobedient as it might have sounded to him, he had to see Sophia. Her room, and those of the accompanying group, were on the north side of the mansion, an entire suite of rooms cordoned off and designed as restricted. The last thing the Farringtons needed was for some of the staff to be caught in Mr. Hollingsworths girl's suite. Even though that wouldn't surprise anyone, it would assuredly cast a dark shadow on the two family's relationship. It would even call into question the very deal that was just agreed to by strangers and friends alike.

The night's shrouded moon danced between the clouds and peeked out from its hiding place again and again as the southern winds pushed them across the land. It wasn't the first time that Alexander had seen or spoke with Sophia. That was their secret. For Sophia, she had every intention of coming with her uncle to the party. It wasn't specifically for the proposal she'd packer a few things and purchased a designer dinner dress. No, it was to impress her lover, her secret lover.

Waiting in her room on the third floor, Sophia was about to take off her dress and hang it in the chifforobe. All the prominent members of society owned chifforobes since there weren't any closets constructed in the homes.

It was a closet-like piece of furniture that combined a long space for hanging clothes with a chest of drawers on the inside. Both sections of the piece of furniture were enclosed by two large doors that locked together. It was the rage of the time, a must have.

...

Both Alexander and Sophia held a secret neither was willing to tell.

As a young educated and determined woman making her way in the limited woman's world of that time, Sophia met Alexander at a small shop in city a short time ago. She was shopping for new hats, he was looking for something for his mother's birthday. It was by pure coincidence that the two met.

It was destiny.

...

"Am I to understand you correctly? Your chocolates aren't from Belgium? Well where are they from? My mother loves the Belgium chocolates. They remind her of her grandmother's home, their kitchen, the classical culture they used to make candy." commented Alexander as he continued to search the shelves around the store.

"Sir, we pride ourselves on our ability to get almost anything for our select clientele, but unfortunately, the chocolates were late leaving Belgium, therefore it'll be several more weeks before they arrive." stated the store owner in a tone of disgust.

"Well isn't that something. I must admit when I read your sign outside I had my doubts that you could do all you proclaim to do. The signs says that you can provide all of your customer's needs. Honestly, you might want to consider revising that sign so you aren't caught eating your words." laughed Alexander as he lowered his head to look at a pocket watch, a gold watch on the lower shelf in front of him.

At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him but sure enough the watch resembled the one his father owned.

He looked once, then again to be sure his eyes were deceiving him. Looking outside the store he spotted an angel. She walked on the sidewalk outside near the street as causally as he would himself. Self-assured, confident, she knew what she coming to purchase. She was breathtaking. He didn't know her nor had he seen her before today, but just the sight of her made him weak in the knees.

With little time to prepare for the proper introduction, Alexander walked around the store's shelves until he was near the front door. Would she come in? Was there anything he could do to impress her? Who else might have seen this vision, the angel? All the questions any man might answer swelled in his head. He didn't have time to put together any type of whimsical, polished greeting. As soon as she entered the shop, her eyes fell upon him. Within her, her heart began to bang against her chest. One could almost see her blouse moving in and out with each beat of her heart.

"Good afternoon." he said.

"Good afternoon." she replied and walked past him as if she hadn't seen or noticed him standing in the center of the aisle in such a manner that she'd had to walk around him.

With little else said between them, the two shoppers finished their tasks, paid for their merchandise, and walked out of the store about the same time. Alexander had planned it that way. His goal was to introduction himself and in turn she'd do the same. Most of the time his plan worked, mostly.

With bag in hand, Sophia pulled the door behind her, stepped down the two small steps to the street. Her eyes were filled with mystery. Her posture was that of a cultured woman, perhaps even finishing school quality, but Alexander wasn't sure and dared not assume anything. The last thing he needed for the angel to take a compliment as being aggressive or disrespectful.

Within moments of his first word, she turned away as if he was speaking in Greek or some other foreign language. In other words, she wasn't interested in a smooth talker. She wanted someone that was genuine.

...

Once, only once Sophia received a poem he'd written for her. He'd sent it special currier directly to her home near Mobile. That poem, now a part of her soul, traveled with her no matter where she went. Now, in the flow of the lamp, she held it to her breast remembering how she felt the first time she read it. And, at that moment, her soul beckoned to be reminded of the words, thoughts, and feeling it engendered within her. Pulling out the night stand's small drawer she withdrew it, unfolded the pages, and read it aloud.

It read:

In My Eyes

My eyes beheld her beauty far beyond that of a thousand queens of a thousand Niles, set there on her face in one enchanted smile.

This shanty girl, was pure perfection,

Regal and fine.

Spite this world's rejection.

Her beauty came from deep within and radiated outward.

In Spite of any objection.

No style? No worth? No dowry, No grace?

What could they be looking at, it could not be this face.

How could one face in all the world change a life, a heart? Make this thumping stop, never depart.

All I thought to be real, I see now just an illusion.

As I look inside eyes of truth.

Truth of what I have been, all an act, to impress.

To attain success, seems a weary man's route to nothingness.

An awakening to something totally unknown to me.

And strange. What is this spell, who conjured this?

Can this be love?

Standing before me you are glory, you are all I will ever want, How can I breath again if you depart?

...

That was six months ago and no one had any idea that they even knew each other. As often as he could, Alexander ventured away from the estate to meet with her. The two were more than friends, more than acquaintances, more than just boyfriend or girlfriends, they were lovers. No one knew, it was none of their business.

...

As the memory of the first introduction, the first word, and the first kiss swept across her, Sophia knew she was in love with him. There was no denying it. But, as with any wealthy family, there were restrictions, protocol, and rules to follow when it came to who the heir courted or even married. The woman had to come from good stock. There had to be money, of course, and there had to be a network of history that would substantiate a good match. Marriage wasn't taken lightly when it came to the elite in the south. The last thing anyone would allow was for some outsider to creep their way in, sleep their way into the bank accounts. That was even true for the Farrington Estate, one of the wealthiest.

Having put her clothes away and dressed for the night in her silk night gown, Sophia couldn't help by sense him near. She knew that no conjugal visits were allowed at the estate, but yet, there was that feeling she got every time he was near. Her skin felt flush, her body became warmer than normal, and her heart raced as if she'd just finished making love. It was her way of knowing that his touch, his kiss, the way he held her, caressed her was genuine. Her spirit told her that there was no backing out of what lay ahead. In time, her soul would live to see just how much he loved her. But at this moment, she had to keep quiet. If the truth was known, all that they hoped to be would come to an end. Their dreams would fade as quickly as they had been formed. Their lives, both of them would be forever lost in the abyss of hopelessness.

Moving like an angel, Sophia floated to the wash basin, lifted the white porcelain pitcher and filled the basin with warm water. She'd grown accustom to the amenities of the wealthy. Many pitchers were very ornate, colorful, and heavy. Not so much in the room where she would be sleeping. Patting her cheeks dry, she placed the damp towel over the railing, and returned to bed side near the glowing Tiffany lamp made of blown glass and detailed art work. Perhaps he'd come to kiss her good night. And if he did, would he be followed, spied upon by the very staff that his estate employs. There wasn't any way of knowing for sure.

Then there was a rap on the bedroom door.

On bated breath she stood motionless wanting to believe it was him, wanting to touch him, wanted to be with him, but too afraid to open the door. If she didn't find out who was at the door, she might miss the only opportunity to tell him good night, to hold him at least for a moment. But, if it was someone else, her privacy might be violated. If it was a complete stranger, an intruder they might attack her or even injure her. That were the choices that lay before her. Would she take the risk? Could she open the door? Would she allow herself to be intruded upon by one of the staff members? There was only one way to find out. She needed to open the door.

Inching her way across the huge bedroom to the double doors, Sophia clad herself in a robe, a thick robe she'd brought with her. She didn't know if she'd need such a heavy robe, but at this very moment she was glad she'd packed it. Again, a rap at the door. Then again, another rap. Whoever the person was, they were becoming impatient. perhaps even angry.

As she neared the door, she heard the door latch click. Did the person have a key? Where had any member of the house secured a key? Within moments of hearing the latch click open, the door swung open to reveal who the person was attempting to enter without permission.

To her surprise, the man who entered her room wasn't a stranger at all, but her lover's brother. His eyes burned with hate, his soul reeked of vengeance, and his mind was filled with all the animosity any one could possibly possess. He closed the door behind him as quickly as he'd opened it. The halls were vacant, the servants were on the next floor down waiting in their annexes if the guest needed assistance.

"Well, well, well Miss. Bloomingdale, I believe it's Sophia isn't it? I've been watching you all evening from the time you arrived, during the dinner party, and then, oh yes, then I caught you and my brother in an almost compromising position. Is there anything you'd like to tell me about that? I mean, for my bother to swoon all evening over a woman he wasn't even suppose to know, well, don't you think that curious? It would appear to me, and I'm sure to my mother as well, that you two know one another. Perhaps you two know one another better than that. Is that your story Miss. Bloomingdale? I've been thinking about this ever since you arrived her. It was understood that your uncle was allowing you to come to, shall we say, get your feet wet in the circles we travel in. To me, I expected to see a less than cultured woman, a yes sir, no sir, woman. But instead, I find out that not only do you know my brother, you to are lovers. Oh, yes, the Hollingsworth girls know all the gossip, the true and the untrue, the honest truth and the conjectures that flow though our streets, our community. And, having come to the only substantiated conclusion, there's more to your affair than just what is seen. You want to tell me about your time at the Battle House Renaissance in Mobile? I've done my research on all of our guests this evening. It seems that you make a lot of trips to this famous and exclusive hotel under a different name. What is that Miss. Bloomingdale? Their staff knows you as Claire Graham. I wonder if your uncle has been informed that his niece, one that he treasures and admires, is no more than a prostitute selling herself like a common whore, a lady of the night." Lance concluded as he turned around to see Alexander standing in the doorway.

"There better be a good explanation for this Lance!" shouted Alexander as he closed he door behind him and walked directly to confront his brother.

"And that could go for you too brother. You too need a good explanation as to how you know this person, this woman of the night. I have all the paperwork, the written statements that she'd no more than a whore. I found out that she meets someone every month or so in Mobile, you know the city you and I go from time to time to check our accounts. Well, seems as though she frequents one of the most expensive Hotels in the city. What do you have to say about that? Is she not a whore selling herself to the highest bidder. This charade is coming to an end. And, when we're done, she needs to gather her things and get out of my house!" Lance insisted as the veins in his throat budged.

"And when did you ever care who was a whore or not, Lance? You're life has been spent spending the family's money, defacing our very lives with your debauchery. So, my good man, what do you have to say about that? When did you give a damn?" asked Alexander as he maneuvered himself between Lance and Sophia.

"That's got nothing to do with this Alex and you know it. I'm a Farrington. We do as we please with whomever we please. We have money. We pay for our silence!" he screamed and stepped closer to his brother.

Sophia said nothing. It was better to let the two brothers argue and scream than get herself involved. She knew that the only reason Lance was causing such a fuss was because she didn't give him the time of day. She didn't want him. She had the man that fulfilled her and he wasn't arrogant or boastful. For her, there wasn't any one but Alexander.

"Well big brother, the only reason she's acting as if she's interested in you is because you're the oldest. If it wasn't for the possibility that you're inherit everything she'd be sleeping in my bed tonight." laughed Lance as he reached to put his hand on Sophia's breast.

Without warning, Alexander swung a right hook hitting his brother in his face. Immediately blood erupted from Lance's nose and mouth spewing like a geyser. Then he attacked again with a blow to the mid-section causing Lance to bend over in unbearable pain. Forcing himself to stand up, Lance let go a right then a left busting Alexander's nose causing him to fall to the floor. Both brothers were intent on killing one another. Both brothers had their reasons for defending their name, but only Sophia knew why the two were really fighting.

Chapter

30

Truth, A Bitter Pill

Out of the stack of letters Sophia brought to the small table near the door, only a handful remained. It wasn't easy reading the story, the promises, the truth as she remembered it, but for Felicity's sake, she was determined to read each one. There would never be peace between them if she chose not to tell her everything.

"Give me a minute honey, I need to get a drink. All this reading has caused me to have a dry throat." commented her mama as she stood up, walked to the water bucket, and took a sip.

"Ah, now that's better. It's been many years ago that I first saw a water bucket. It was when I first came here to the squatters and the shanties under the umbrellas. It was a difficult time Felicity. Far more difficult than you could possibly imagine. For me, my life was over. It lay in shreds at my feet. But, that's a whole nother story that I can't begin to tell. Maybe if we survive this one, I'll give it a try another time. Just remember that sometimes truth is a bitter pill and hard to swallow." mama said as she slipped past her oldest, took her seat, and opened another letter.

The story continued.

Chapter

31

Blood Isn't Thicker

Downstairs on the first floor front balcony, Olivia and Aldridge were sharing a late nightcap, a Pure Pot Still Irish Whiskey. It was nothing new for him, he did it all the time, but for her, well, a few sips and she was feeling it.

"Remember when we sailed together off the coast of Puerto Rico. I loved spending time with you my friend. Don't get me wrong, I loved my husband, but his world was filled with numbers and figures leaving little time for adventure. And, for most women, there has to be adventure. Dull numbers lead to dull conversations, but if there's a little flair along the way, it makes things more enjoyable. For me, I'd loved to have traveled more, but we were tied down by our business and our sons. We couldn't leave them penniless. Would that be fair?" asked Olivia once she set her glass down. She didn't want any more. A sip or two was more than enough. At her age, it was easy for her to slip fast asleep in an empty bed.

As the two old friends churned up story after story, adventure after adventure, Evelyn ran down the upstairs hallway were sounds of a fight caught her attention. "Who in the world is fighting. Ain't no right disrespecting Miss Farrington's house. She done put everyone up and now they be gone and trashing the place.

She rushed down the long hallway leading to the last room on the left, pushed the door open, and stood in shock at she saw. There before her were the two Farrington brothers locked in a death grip on the floor.

Evelyn's assistant appeared behind her and stepped around the older woman to try to pull the men apart. She wasn't having any success. Neither of the men wanted to give in, neither of the men were going to give up.

"As one of the younger men servants showed up, Miss Evelyn sent him to bring back their mother. "Hurry now before one of them kills the other!" she shouted.

Dashing down the hallway and down the spiral staircase, the man found Mrs. Farrington and Mr. Hollingsworth standing on the balcony. "Madam, you must hurry! Your sons are killing each other upstairs. Evelyn is trying to pull them apart, but she's not havin' any luck to do it!" he called out and pointed upstairs where a small crowd was already gathering outside in the hallway.

"Miss Evelyn, can't you pull them apart?" asked Sophia as she moved away from the two bleeding men to see what was going to happen.

"Your problem is that you think I don't deserve anyone. I'll tell you this Lance, you'll never have her. She belongs to me!" shouted Alexander as he landed another solid punch against his brother's face. Swollen and spitting blood, Lance vowed out loud to that he'd kill his brother and the whore as well!

"What you sayin' boy? You shut yo' mouth using that kind-a language here in yo' mama's house. get hold of yo' self and stop this foolishness!" shouted Evelyn as she pulled at Lance's bloody shirt.

"Never!" he shouted as he slammed another direct hit into Alexander's kidneys causing him to yell out in pain.

With the matriarch in tow, and the Aldridge along her side for support, the man servant directed them to the room where sounds of the struggle were as loud as when he'd left. Stopping at the door and waving the crowd to go back to their rooms, Mrs. Farrington entered the room.

She watched for a moment, then asked for Mr. Hollingsworth's belt. He pulled it through the belt loops and handed it to her. She wasn't as helpless as people expected her to be. And, after a few whacks across their head, they soon turned loose of each other.

"Now what's the meaning of this foolishness in my house? Don't either of you two have any respect for my house, my husband's legacy, and your destiny. From what I see and hear, neither of you deserve anything. That's the way it's going to play out unless you two got a reason for this mess!" stated the matriarch as she stepped back to let her sons get up off the floor.

Out in the hall, Evelyn instructed the guests to return to their rooms. She played it off as just another brotherly fight, but many of the on-lookers didn't believe that that was the truth. Nevertheless, the fight ended and both men stood in front of their mother like a new cadet would stand before their commanding officer.

"I'm going to give you two about one second to tell me what this is about or both of you will be packing your own bags and finding somewhere else to live!" demanded the matriarch who'd been through more than one of her boy's fights. This time they weren't kids or adolescents, they were grown men acting like fools.

"Mother, what I got to tell you you might not want to hear. Maybe it's better if we talk some where more private." replied Lance as he pulled his shirt up to wipe the blood for his nose.

"Well Lance, what I find peculiar is that you and your brother have made this entire thing a spectral for my guests and before the morning light, it'll be all over our community. And, now you want to find a private place to explain why you and your brother are beating the living daylights out of each other." she responded.

With the two men dripping blood all over her floor, the matriarch turned to face Sophia who, for the lack of a better word, had kept perfectly quiet the entire time. She didn't attempt to help either of them. Her whole reason was a secret and would remain so unless one of them men had found out and would reveal it in the next few minutes. Time was her enemy, silence her friend.

Evelyn's staff was called to clean the blood splatters off of almost everything in the bedroom. The bed had to be changed, new linens provided. Sophia had to be moved to the adjacent room because of the time it would take to make the room presentable again. Without objection Sophia moved a few of the lighter things to the next bedroom, the heavier things the servants toted.

"As for you two, I'm not so sure what I'm going to do with you. You've embarrassed me and disrespected my home for the last time. This is the last straw!" exclaimed the matriarch as she walked ahead of the two boys that remained silent. There wasn't anything to say. The fight spoke for them, but as far as Lance was concerned, he had something more to say, but the hallway wasn't the place to open a can of worms.

Chapter

32

Revelation

After entering the drawing room, the matriarch pulled the doors closed. What needed to be said, what needed to be done, what needed to be done wasn't for anyone to hear except her and her sons. It wasn't going to be shouting match or conversation or discussion or debate. The deed was done, right or wrong, it was over. The dividing line had been drawing between them and both intended on crossing it to get at the other. Was this the end of the brotherhood between them? Were they to answer for their indiscretion? It was apparent that their mother had had enough. This wasn't the first time, but it would be the last time she tolerated their continue feud. What fueled the animosity? No one was for sure, but jealousy and envy were among the culprits lurking in the minds of one of the men.

"We're going to get to the bottom of this here and now!" exclaimed the matriarch. "There's no reason that you two sons of mine have this enduring throne in the flesh between you. I'm not going to tell you what you what to hear. I'm going to let you speak your mind, good or bad, and render my decision. Is this clear?" she asked.

Nodding and looking away from each other, both knew they'd pushed the envelope too far this time. They knew when to speak and to remain silent when their mother starting talking about drawing the line and asking if they understood what she was saying. That could only mean on thing, this was their final confrontation, their final fight.

"As I see it, you two will have only one chance to offer your explanation. At this point, you're lucky I'm allowing you to remain standing in my home. There won't be any finger pointing between you! There won't be any he said, she said gossipy accusation. If you have proof about what your talking about, then present it. If not, shut up!" she explained. "I will NOT have my home turned into a boxing ring just because you two can't get along!" she added.

Neither Alexander nor Lance felt that things would go back to normal. Neither felt that their mother would let this slip by and forgive them as she'd done before. She meant business. If they had waited until after the guests had left, that might shed a different light on the situation, but fighting in front of her elite group from her circle and in the bedroom of one of her female guests was inexcusable.

"Now, I want to know what this is all about and I want to know now!" she demanded.

Before they could continue, the drawing room door opened. Standing in the doorway was Aldridge Hollingsworth. His concern wasn't for the men, it was for his friend. "Are you alright Olivia?" he asked in the most sincere tone as possible. Olivia didn't answer, but simple nodded. He pulled the doors back together and returned to his room.

"This is your chance Lance to tell me what I don't know about this war between you and your older brother. Now, let's hear it!" she ordered.

Rather than look his brother in the face, Lance stared off into the other side of the room. He wasn't expecting to have to bare his soul. Normally, they just wiped their noses, cleaned up the blood, and things returned to normal. But that wasn't going to be the case this time. The tone of his mother's voice lashed at them as never before. Her intent, even though shaded in the words she used, meant that this time there would be grave consequences with no reconciliation. Had he gone too to far this time? Had he place the both of them in a no-win situation where the their would be no winners not even his mother? He wanted to think before he answered, but his jealousy and rage and animosity toward his older brother kept his spirit raging.

"Mother, here's the reason things are the way they are between us. Alexander, your favorite, has been seeing someone in the city for sometime now. He is putting our family at risk just by putting himself at one of the most famous hotels with this woman. I've hired an investigator to check into this offense to our family and I have all the proof you and I need. It's clear that my older brother, the heir to this estate, cares less for our family than he does for this whore." stated Lance as he pulled a few slips of paper from his pants pocket and laid them on the small corner table. He was sure that when his mother read the information, she'd render a decision placing him in the position held by the oldest son.

"Lance, you're one to talk. How many times have I bailed you out of jail, pulled out of the red light district down town, and paid to have the society pages expunged from public view. For you to stand here and accuse your brother of this atrocity in light of your own atrocious life, well, that is the pot calling the kettle black. Wouldn't you think?" she asked and smirked at the insufficient excuse he'd presented.

But, in all fairness, she walked to the table, picked up the documentation so eagerly presented, read it, and laid it back done. She wasn't happy with what she'd read. It was a blow to her opinion of her older son, but their own husband was just as bad. Even though the boys were never told of her husband's antics, she could see how the traits mirrored those of his, God rest his soul.

"Alexander! What's your excuse for this indiscretion, this slap in the face to my family's name? Is this true? Have you been seen, recognized, and entertained a woman of this character?" she asked hoping that his version of the truth would make her decision less painful.

It was either tell the truth or hide from it for the rest of his life. Was he there with her in the dim evening light? Had he fallen in love with the woman he met at the mercantile? Was he seeing her on a regular basis? Had his love for her grown into more than just a one night stand? Had she pledged him her troth to be his wife, to love him, honor him, desire him as none other? Yes, the answer was yes to all the questions he felt his mother would want an answer to before the night was over. But, what she wouldn't find out until the final sentence was spoken would garner the worst verdict of all.

"Mother, Lance has told you the truth." he admitted. "I have been seeing a young lady, a woman, at the hotel in the city. I haven't tried to hide my actions or keep them secret. I met her in a store in the city that day I went to purchase the Belgium Chocolates, those that you love so much. It was to be a gift for you. I saw her through the front windows. It was the first time that I saw her, but it wasn't the last. Have I been seeing her since that time, yes I have. But, the real issue behind this mother isn't whether I've transgressed against all that you've taught us to adhere to, to honor about our family, no, it's the fact that my brother, the real whore monger is jealous and angry. He's has always been jealous of my position with the family. His jealousy is unmatched and his anger is unparalleled. There isn't a day that goes by that he isn't scheming and planning to conjure up anything to cast the first stone. He's mad because that very same woman that I've been meeting won't give him the time of day. Her love wasn't for sale, her attention couldn't be bargained for in the dim night lights of the south side of the city where my brother spends countless hours and throws away countless dollars. His jealousy is out of control if it forces him to spy on his brother for the sake of trying to persuade you to change the inheritance into his name."

Alexander answered the questions as truthfully as possible. He wanted to lay all of the cards on the table forcing each player to show their hand.

"Alexander, you know your behavior has brought reproach upon our family name. And you, above all others, should know that this world we live in with it's traditions, its limited acceptance of this type of actions called into question our history in the area. What more about this do I not know? What else is there to tell?" his mother asked as she took a deep breath trying to access the social damage before the fight become common knowledge.

"Is this the truth Lance? Have you always hated your brother? Have you always expected me to just hand the estate over to you regardless of your behavior, your continued callousness that shows more and more each day? Well, that's not going to happen. No matter what, you'll never be the oldest son. That's life, that's the way things are set in stone in the families in the area that have sustained the businesses and guarded the money. Is money everything? Absolutely not, but without it life can become almost unbearable. Without money, you, your brother, and all of us would be living over there in Shanty Town scratching out a living. That's life. Once the money is replaced by our emotions, once our emotions cause us to violate our values, then there's nowhere else for us!" she insisted.

"Now, is there anything else I need to know before I make my decision?" their mother asked hoping she'd heard all that was to hear.

"Mother, there is something else we must discuss." added Alexander. "But, if possible and with your permission, I'd like to discuss it without Lance being present." he solicited in a tone that could only mean one thing. It had to mean that what he needed to tell his mother that the events involved more than just a one night stand or paying off some woman to keep quiet.

"Lance, wait in the rotunda until I call you back in." mother directed.

Lance turned, looked at Alexander, and exited the room pulling the door together as he left.

"Now, Alexander, what's this all important information you want to tell me? If there's something more sinister or some crimes that's been committed, you better just spill it. You and your bother have created a name for yourselves, one I'm not very proud of here in our community." said his mother as she cringed to think there was something more to add to the already unacceptable evening's finale.

There was no need to wait or lay any groundwork that would soften the blow that was sure to shock her. For Alexander, his time of adhering to the Farrington way of tradition was quickly coming to an end. He stood flat-footed, broadened his shoulders, and lifted his head as if he were about to tell his mother that he'd landed the biggest 'deal' the family had ever made, but that wasn't it. Steadying himself for the flood of words like "betrayal" and "insulting" and "traitor," he closed the distance between him and his mother.

"The woman is with child, two months now." he confessed.

There was nowhere to run or hide. The truth was out and now for the consequences.

Chapter

33

Expulsion

There are times in one's life when no matter how hard one tries, the dots don't connect, the maze is impenetrable, and the consequences unbearable. This situation has befallen Miss. Bloomingdale who wanted more than life to be held by her lover. His face pressed against her cheek, his lips touching hers, but those moments were going to fade into yesterday never to be seen or felt again. She'd longed to be with him. His love completed her dreams, created her world that was perfect for her. He was her soulmate, strong and gentle, demanding and sacrificial. For her, the question as to whether she would die for him always was met with the same answer. She'd given all she was, all she is, and all she'd ever be to keep him. As a man, she'd found him to be forthright, honest, and above all faithful. Even though there had been only a few months of ecstasy between them, those few months lifted her heavenward, suspended her between heaven and earth, and exposed her soul to him as no other man could've done. For Sophia, her life's dream was to lose herself in him because it was he who was able to complete her life as none other.

Standing in the door watching Sophia, Evelyn could see that she was lost in her lovers eyes. She knew what the feeling felt like, what it did to a woman's soul, her mind, her spirit. There isn't anything like falling in love. It's an experience that reshapes one's world, it had hers those many years ago when her husband came into town exuding the likeness of a man she couldn't live without. For Evelyn, there was no one who'd take his place. For Evelyn, her world was transformed into one of those fairy tales where the prince finds the princess, where all is right with the world, and dreams really do come true.

As Evelyn watched Sophia glide around the room putting her things away again after the fight, she couldn't help but feel there was something more that the Farringtons didn't know about her. Was she waiting for that prince? Was she dreaming of her tomorrow away from the life she'd known now for 20 years? Would there be, could there be that special someone who'd cover her and protect her from all harm? Those were the questions Evelyn had on her lips as she moved away from the door to offer Sophia some help.

"Miss, is there anything I can do to help you. I couldn't help but assume that after the fight you'd be disgruntled. Yet, as I stand here, I see that that's not the case. What I see is a woman in love!" she admitted as she moved closer to the bed to pull the linen down, fluff the feather pillows.

"What would make you think that?" blurted Sophia as her face flushed, her heart began to race. "Was there some reason, some comment that would suggest that I was in love or even thinking of such things?" she asked.

Turning her face away from Evelyn and placing the final piece of clothing in the top drawer of the chifforobe, Sophia wanted more than anything to confide in her what was going on, the truth as only she could tell. Yet, she shied away from the mere thought of telling a servant what she felt for Alexander. It wasn't his money she needed, no, she needed his touch.

"Miss Bloomingdale, far be it for me to assume anything madam, but if I didn't know better I'd say you've found your love. You've found that special man who completes your world. But, like I said, far be it for me to make that assumption. As far as I'm concerned, a woman's life is only as good as the man who loves her. If she's in love, there's nothing too hard, nothing too scary, and nothing that can defeat that love. Does that make sense? I'm not schooled like you young lady. No, my schooling took place in the streets a long time ago when I was a youngin'. But, there comes a time when a woman must put away childish things. There comes a time when the winds of change blows us in all directions. When those winds come, we women hold on to our man as hard as we can until the storm passes over. At that point, a woman's soul is filled with gratitude and gives its self away freely into the eyes of her man. So, Miss. Bloomingdale, do all the things of your life fulfill you? Do the parties, dresses, and smiles from what would-be suitors keep you warm at night as the hours tick away headed towards the dawn?" asked Evelyn in such a manner as to not offend or not sound disrespectful.

For the space of few minutes, there was a deafening silence that occupied Sophia's room, her mind, and her heart. Her mind was holding its finger against her lips keeping back the thing she wanted to say. Her heart burned within her as it did when Alexander touched her, the way he touched her. Her soul yearned to empty itself out of the pain that had become a cancer sore. She'd listened to the house servant's comments. The similarities of Evelyn's life and her own were uncanny. Even though their worlds had never crossed, they both felt the same way.

"Mrs. Evelyn, I can't go one minute without telling someone." as she burst out in tears, she fell upon the older woman's chest.

Evelyn curled Sophia into her arms as she had done her own daughters time and time again when life had worn them out. There weren't any skin tone barriers or money barriers or cast barriers in that moment of consoling. Evelyn knew what Sophia needed. She knew how she felt. And she knew why she was falling apart in the arms of a servant. It wasn't her place to tell the secret. No, it wasn't her place to assume what the Farringtons might do when they found out what was causing their guest to break down in tears sobbing like a baby. No, that reason was within Sophia. It would be her choice whether she let that secret be known to anyone other than her lover.

"Oh Miss. Evelyn, what am I to do? I've fallen in love with a man that wasn't looking for someone like me. What am I to do to shake this foolish thought that my life will end up like those of a princess. I'm sure he loves me, but look around you. This estate, this family, his heritage that binds him, all of this is his life. Was I convinced that he'd choose me over all of this? I'm not so sure I've made the right choice, but my heart shouts at me that all will be well if I love him." sobbed Sophia as she took the lace handkerchief from the only friend she had at the moment.

"Miss Bloomingdale, I like to ask myself what would I give up for the man that I love? What would I settle for him to be happy, to be successful, to have him be with me always even if it's only in my heart? That's what I ask myself when I'm crushed by this life's sorrows, this world of givers and takers. That's the question you need to ask yourself because only you can answer it for yourself." stated whispered Evelyn who'd seen more sorrow than one should have seen in her lifetime.

"Miss Evelyn, I know this world known as the Farringtons will crush my dreams once my dream is brought to life. I now this in my heart of hearts, but I must let the consequences of my choices play out. If I have no where to hide, no life left, at least I'll have part of my dream, part of him to hold. They can't take that from me." cried Sophia as she sobbed in the arms of a women she'd never met. That's what women do when those of their kind have slumped as low as they can go. They catch them from falling any further.

"There there Miss Bloomingdale, it's okay to cry. Sometimes we need to cry to empty ourselves out before the storm comes that won't allow us to cry. I know, I've been there." she admitted as she took the moistened handkerchief from Sophia's hand and replaced it with another.

In the drawing room on the first floor, Alexander has just admitted to his mother that the woman he'd been seeing, the one that Lance had had investigated, was with child. What he hadn't told her was that the woman he loved unconditionally was upstairs in her house. That would take a few more minutes to admit. That would take a few more minutes to build enough courage to tell her.

Outside the drawing room's door, Lance leaned up against the door, placed his ear against it as he tried to hear the discussion between his mother and Alexander. It wasn't as though he needed any more evidence to convict the assumed perpetrator, he'd paid out a lot of money to some low-life busy body to watch and take notes when Alexander was seen at the hotel. Yet, his jealousy drove him. His need for revenge for her slights, her rejections over rode his better judgment. Flinging the doors open, he quickly walked across the floor to where the two stood facing one another.

"Has he told you? Has he told you yet? Has he told you that his whore is here in your house getting ready to sleep on your sheets in your bedroom? There, now you have it all. Your favorite son has concealed the truth from you without regret or restitution. And you thought he loved you. You thought he loved the family. And, you, for whatever reason have chosen all these years to turn you face from the truth!" he shouted.

Unexpectedly and without warning, the matriarch, drew her hand back as her mother had done to her and swung it forward with all of her might. The sound of her slapping her younger son's face echoed through out the lower chambers of the house. The hand print left on his face swelled and turned as red as harvest apples.

"No one speaks to me in that manner in my own home!" said his mother as she walked over to close the doors he'd neglected as he burst into the room.

"If we have a problem, we'll face the problem. No matter what we've confronted in the past, there was always an answer. No matter what has come our way, we've found an answer. And, whether you understand it or not, Lance, you're not the answer to every woman's dreams. No man is. Now, let's get back to the our discussion. Is this woman with child in my house?" she asked. "And if she is, who is she? You know Alexander that for me to condone this act of betrayal would be the end to our legacy. To accept this woman and the child as if nothing has happened would go against all that I've believed in, all that makes me who I am. Yet, in your moment of passion, those parts of who you are faded into the darkness of the room where the acts were performed. Do you really think that I don't know what it's like to be in love? Do you really think that if I had allowed myself to follow my heart that I'd be standing here speaking to you or your jealous brother. My answer is no. I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have become Mrs. Farrington nor would I have been your mother. Now that that's out on the table as well and we've all played our cards, perhaps we can salvage some part of our heritage. Perhaps we can hold on to that part of us that makes us Farringtons. Maybe we can find a way to erase this spot from the dream that stands around us." she said as she motioned around the room indicating the wealth that surrounded her. "If we don't nip this in the bud, all of us will suffer from this one indiscretion. For me to give up all of this that I've worked for is unthinkable. Therefore, this is what I'm going to do. Whether you agree or disagree, this decision, this act of preservation will do just that, it will preserve who we are in the face of this disgrace." she concluded.

"But mother surely you can't mean this? Surely you can't just throw someone away as they're a piece of soiled clothing!" interjected the elder son Alexander as he offered his plea for reconsideration.

"There are things far worse than exile or banishment or expulsion. There is extreme poverty where people scratch out a living as best they can. There are places where these people can be found that hide them from the world, our world. And, if I have my way, this person will be sentenced to that world away from us, away from you. This is my decision and the topic isn't open for discussion. I'm not here to ask permission, but if you chose not to accept this way out, then you too will be expelled from my world. I don't need people, family or not, that want to take our good family name and destroy all that I have!" she stated."

"But mother!"

"What are you saying?"

"What are you doing?" asked Alexander as he began to understand the gravity of the decision his mother had made for them all.

"Now, Lance, I want you to get out of my sight. If I need you, I'll send someone to your room to fetch you. And, as for you Alexander, take me to this woman, this she devil, that you've sold your soul to in the darkness of the night, in a moment of weakness." ordered his mother.

Lance departed the room in hast to escape any further physical altercations. It had been years since his mother had hit him. As a child, on occasion, she busted his bottom, but now as an adult he'd seen the fury of her anger toward him. This night would be his last in the world controlled by his mother.

As Alexander and his mother made their way upstairs, he could only imagine what she might say or do. Her complete existence was being threatened, her way of life. She'd remove anyone or anything that stood as an obstacle of retaining that which she'd worked so hard to attain. For Alexander, the mere thought of her doing anything to Sophia filled him with rage. The mere thought of her raising her voice and making an example of the young woman who'd given herself to him body and soul was being use to drive a wedge between the two. Was she in the right to defend her ground, to protect those who'd been loyal to her, to her husband? Yes, but for Alexander one thing was becoming more clear with each step down the long hallway. His mother cared more for what she had than for the people in her life. That fact was becoming more clear with each passing minute.

In the bedroom where Sophia set enfolded within the arms of a servant, the truth about her love for Alexander spilled over again and again into the waiting handkerchiefs offered by Evelyn. The women, although from different worlds, understood each other, cared for each other, and knew that what was coming next wasn't anything good.

"Sophia, honey, look at me. You know that the men, Lance and Alexander, are above all else Farrington men. Their lives have been lived at the bidding of their mother, who, for reasons of her own, has controlled their every move. Poor Lance, filled with indignation toward her, has continually acted out, wild in the night, and intentionally embarrassed her. His need for attention had to be satisfied somewhere by someone. And, as I'm sure you're aware, the night, the streets, the women's candles lure him into their bedrooms. If he continues to vary from the straight and narrow, well, Mrs. Farrington will cut him off. For her to survive, she will sever the ties that bind them and let him go is way." she stated.

"But, what about Alexander? What do you think will become of him? What will become of me and my baby?" asked Sophia realizing that she'd told her secret to a complete stranger, a servant no less working in the house of a woman who would, if she could, destroy all hope of her ever seeing the man she loves.

"Miss. Bloomingdale, what did you say?" questioned Evelyn as she released Sophia for a moment. "What did you say?" she asked again.

Startled and confused, Evelyn set shocked as she continued to comfort Sophia. If what she'd been told was true, Mrs. Farrington would not destroy in her own house, but would, in time, have her life expunged from the record books around the state. For all intent and purposes, Sophia Bloomingdale would cease to exist. She had enough power, enough connections, enough money to finance an all out cleansing resulting in having even birth records pulled and destroyed. There wasn't much she couldn't do when confronted with an obstacle, a threat to her life.

"Miss Bloomingdale, we mustn't speak of this. This information is to be between me and you. Alexander, being drilled by his mother downstairs, surely he understands that this revelation will end his future should his mother seek to take her vengeance out on him. Now, hush your crying, go splash some water on your face, and dry your eyes. If I know Mrs. Farrington as well as I think I do, she's on her way up here right now." Evelyn said as she helped Sophia up from the bed.

"But mother, the woman I love is carrying my child, your grand daughter. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you care that if that child grows up to know you?" Alexander asked as he attempted to appeal to his mother's motherly compassion.

Stopping down the hall from Sophia's room, his mother turned to him. She wasn't giving in one inch. She'd made her position known, there was no changing in to suit him or anyone else. And the fact that Alexander and this, this tramp had conceived a child meant nothing to her.

"Let me tell you this Alexander, I see what you're trying to do and it's not going to work. No, I feel nothing for this bastard child. It will not have the Farrington name, it will not be listed in my family tree, and it will not become part of this dynasty at no time in the future. Is this clear. You and Lance are to be exiled from my house. I'll explain to you the details once I confront this whore you've made such a spectacle with parading around in the city for all to see. I read Lance's notes from the prominent investigation, a person I've hired myself in my past. The facts don't lie, the pictures don't lie, and the hotel receipts don't lie. Now, once I've finished this most uncomfortable task of calling this Jezebel out and giving her a piece of my mind, she too will be remove from my home and erased from my family's life." explained his mother.

"Now, which one of my rooms have you secretly hid her?" she asked.

Evelyn heard the matriarch voice in the hallway and rushed to help Sophia adjust her clothing and wipe her eyes. If she was going to be removed from the Farrington estate, then she'd depart with the same dignity and grace with which she entered it. Regardless of her condition, that secret would remain secret. If wasn't for Evelyn to disrespect a young lady the way she'd been disrespected many years ago when she too found herself with child. Her child, now a grown woman herself, was never accepted into the Farrington family even though Mr. Farrington had been the father. Dorothy knew all about it, but dared not mention it to the matriarch. As far as Mrs. Farrington knew, Evelyn's daughter was just another house servant working for the downstairs staff.

"Here!" announced Alexander as he came to a stop in front of the guest room where Sophia had been moved to earlier. He didn't want to do this, to allow his mother into the room. He knew exactly how vile she could be when she wanted to inflict pain upon an enemy of the family. But, like it or not, he had no choice. He only hope his mother's ties with Mr. Hollingsworth would help soften her decision once she saw who it was that was with child.

Turning the door knob and slowly pushing the door open, Alexander saw his angel standing with Evelyn's arms comforting her. And, when his mother was let into the room all she could do was gasp at the person she saw waiting for her revenge.

"Oh my God, Alexander, what have you done!"

Had the lady of the night been anyone else, the consequences would've been even more severe, but the fact that the woman she was staring at across the room was Miss. Bloomingdale herself, well, this shed a whole different light on the situation. She'd have to follow through with her plan, but not tonight. She'd have to remove her from her sight, but not tonight. The expunging of her life would be done, but not tonight, and the child would never at any time know that it was the child of a Farrington. That would be written in the records of the family historian, sealed away, never to be opened. For Sophia, she'd be allowed to stay the weekend with her uncle seeing that Aldridge wasn't aware of this problem. Rather than set her house off in a storm of gossip fed by the Hollingsworth girls who would no doubt add to the storm, it would be advisable for the matriarch to play down her harsh treatment of her sons. But, once the guests were all gone, she'd put her plan into motion. And, if it went as she planned, her sons would be in another city and the abomination would be removed from history. The matriarch could not allow such an abhorrent creature to destroy all she'd worked so hard to attain, not her, not anyone!

"Well, Miss. Bloomingdale, is see you've been able to deceive my son long enough to entangle him in your dream of gaining a foothold in the Farrington estate. Well, frankly, I'm not surprised. You with your classical training, your academic prowess, your finishing school girl appearance, I can see how he may have stumbled from the straight and narrow and fallen into your web of deception. But, I'll have you know this, and I want you to hear me loud and clear, your scheme has come to an end. Your hopes of ever attaining any position with this dynasty is over. Come Monday morning, you and your things will be removed from my home. You and your bastard child will never, let me say that again, never be accepted as part of my family. I will keep this information between those of us in this room for now. Evelyn, if I have any idea that what you've seen and heard in this room has been divulged, you will be terminated. I don't care how long you've worked here. I don't care that my husband recommended you for your job! No one other than those of us standing her is to know!" said the matriarch as she looked Sophia over as if she was an infectious disease that needed to be cut out.

"Mother!"

"Don't mother me. I've let you and your brother run loose on a long leash far too long. Now, in view of what's happened here, not only will I reel you two back in. I've made up my mind. This is over!" she said firmly, turned and left the room.

Rushing over to where Sophia stood stunned by the words and actions of a woman she'd admired for years. It wasn't her life that she was concerned about. Sure, the things the matriarch could do would definitely destroy her, but what about Alexander's child?

What about their child?

Was their dreams to be squashed even before they'd begun?

Was the Farrington dynasty putting an end all that she knew?

And, Alexander, what was to happen to him. His mother would never change her mind! His mother will follow though with what she'd threatened to do, there was no doubt. And once the rubbing out of her life was completed, where would that leave her when the child came? Those questions needed answers and Sophia only had a few weeks to find out those answers.

Holding her as tightly as he could, Alexander knew what was about to transpire. He knew that he and Lance were no longer welcomed. He knew, as much as she wanted to, his mother would never erase her sons from her life, just exile them for a time. And he knew that the woman he loved more than is life would disappear for all time.

"Sophia, I'm going to tell my mother to remove me from the linage of the Farrington estate. That's all I know I can do so I can be with you. It's the honorable thing to do." insisted Alexander as he looked into his lover's eyes as if it were the last time.

By that time, Evelyn had left the room to allow the two lovers their time together. For all she knew, it would be the last time they would be able to bare their souls to one another. It might be the last time she would be able to look into his eyes, those oceans in which she had lost herself that night in the city. For all she knew, it would be the last time she'd fell his heartbeat against hers in the throws of passion, the moment of ecstasy. for what it was worth, she'd loved him with all that she was or would ever be in the shadowy room filled with passion.

"Regardless whether you remember the days, the hours, the minutes, or the seconds we've spent together or not, that isn't what's most important. No, my love, what's important is that you live within me, within me is a part of your love. Within me I'll always have you, that's what's important. Now, love me for the last time as I surrender my soul completely, freely, all that I am, all that I'll ever be is because of you, my first love." whispered Sophia softly in his ear as he filled her with his compassion in the way only he could do.

Within in weeks after the crisis at the Farrington home, Mrs. Farrington followed through with her threats. And, true to her word, Sophia's name was erase from all of the social circles, guest's lists, and all of the other avenues into the world of the wealthy. Disowned by her own family, there was no where for her to go, no where to live, no one to count on.

As a result, she made her way into the shanties to await the birth of her first child whose name she'd already chosen. She was to be named Felicity. The meaning of Felicity is "happy, lucky, prosperous".

What else could she do?

Chapter

34

A Soul In The Balance

As the morning fog lay heavy upon the quaint shanty town where she found herself, Sophia could still feel his touch. There was no denying the truth, she'd always loved him.

The fog, even though possessing no human qualities, reached out as if it were going to push the moss-filled umbrellas to the side as it crept through the undergrowth near her shanty. Memories hid within the low-lying visitor that moved through the tree branches, bushes, meadows, and across overgrown grassy edges lining the dirt road where she found herself. Her old memories of children swinging and laughing, people walking in the cool of the evening, couples setting sharing secrets all spilled forth from the morning's visit in the most precarious manner. One that could come crashing down at any moment. She watched the scenes she'd remembered from yesteryear, heard the voices, and cherished the secrets between the two seated adjacent to the swaying trees. Not realizing the spontaneity of the moment, she almost missed the message being delivered to her by the specter she saw, her transparent companion. It was telling her that she should cherished those moments no matter what they were, or where it might have been, or who might have been there because there's no promise she'd visit that place again or experience that moment exactly the same way again.

"Felicity, life is fleeing, changing every second, but if you're observant enough, if you look, you'll catch those moments that will remain with you long after people and places have disappeared, long after those places may be taken from you. Even though there were storm clouds overhead, thunder booming in the distance last night, life moves on. Humid and muggy air clustered at the entrance way into our rigid tin house, but yet it still stands. The day's truths, still a ways off, is being pushed by the passage of time moving it forward in its attempt to embrace the new day. This day, yet to unfold, yet to be unwrapped, yet to be understood, may carry with it more than just the usual common variety tic-toc of the clock. Unseen miracles, unknown encounters, and for some, unwanted vulnerabilities hid within its sweeping hands. But, even with its uncertainties, we're simply travelers pushed forward by the unseen wave, the rush from our yesterdays where decisions were made creating today, tomorrow, and the rest of our lives. Is the future unseen? Maybe for those who wish not to see it. But, every day that preceded today has created this moment in which I now wait for its fulfillment." said Sophia as she turned to see her love child, her Felicity who had cost her everything because she was worth it all.

"Mama, what are you telling me in this allegory, this tale with hidden meanings?" asked Felicity as she turned to her mama who held the last two unopened letters, those received several weeks ago. The boy brought the bags, left them inside the front door, and scampered off in a hurry. It was as if he had somewhere more important to go, perhaps ole man Sam's store where he could spend his money on penny candy. That was the last time he'd made his way through the undergrowth as the end of the dirt road. Once clear of the thickets, he hastened his pace, dropped off his bag, and departed as quickly as he'd arrived.

Beyond the door guarded by the two women, the storm didn't possess the fury it had during the late hours of yesterday's evening. Now, as the morning rushed forward like a runner in a race, the storm's rain and winds were relinquishing their hold on the shanty's flimsy construction leaving them much the way they had found them. It would only be a matter of a few hours before the approaching avenger of the light made its debut.

It wasn't just Felicity who cried within her soul to see something new in her world. Was she and her mama to be held prisoner as the world beyond the umbrellas spoke of a life she'd never know. She wanted to see that world she saw in the magic box those many years ago at ole Sam's market. In that momentary glimpse, Felicity found her destiny, but how and when she'd become part of it was a dream she'd not experienced yet.

"My child, you're a woman filled with needs and emotions and dreams much like I had when I was your age. In those times before my world disappeared, I dreamed as well. I knew that if I believed in my dreams hard enough I'd see my dreams materialize before me." admitted Sophia as she leaned forward, picked up an odd envelope about half the size of the others she'd already opened.

"What's that mama?" asked Felicity craning to see if there were words or addresses or names on the outside. But, the smaller envelope had no clue as to what might be within.

Her mama knew exactly what was in the hidden envelope stashed in the her drawer near her bed. She too had been a dreamer, a woman who wanted more, to live more, to be more, to love more, to become more. Yet, in the swipe of an older woman's hand, that imaginary world fell away leaving her destitute.

"Felicity, this morning as the sun pushes the night away, I reflect on the closing of my year's events as all of my yesterdays pass into history. Time, the healer of all things, as we're told, will eventually calm my spirit, but as of yet I still battle my foes. Indelible memories flood over me, pushing me this way and that. Sorrow unbearable, laughter untamed, cherished silence all played their roles to mold my world during the time when love was young, afraid, but desperately seeking to be fulfilled. Lest I slump on my stool and sob uncontrollably, I've had to take deep breaths, gather my emotions, and attempt to put things in perspective. Without a doubt, there are things that were out of our control at that time. But it doesn't make it any easier, it doesn't dry my tears or fill my bed with the love I've lost. No, these passing years have delivered an indelible blow not just to my life, to my soul. Some say that sorrow is common to us all, a life often filled with woes. Perhaps that's true my dear, but it doesn't make the memories nor the emotions any less real, any less vivid to me. Some say it's just life and in time the impact will subside, the trial will be over. And, I guess they're right in some respects. But they haven't walked where I've have walked nor have they died the deaths that I have died. They haven't felt what I have felt. And, they haven't loved as I have loved. My lover, a man of untold compassion and a talent to know exactly what I needed, never fails to fulfill me, never failed to adorn me with himself when I reached for him. That experience is reserved for the person touched the deepest by this passing of my life as a dreamer! We listen to the stillness of the approaching morning's promise, the beating of our hearts, the push of the wind against this poverty that engulfs us. Something 'unknown' this way comes. Unpredictable and unstoppable, the new day approaches with a dream, an unfulfilled wish that might change our lives if we look for it. It brings decisions accompanied by consequences. Will it be a time that will try our souls as we often say? That is yet to be seen, experienced, and, with each beat of our hearts, soon forgotten. At all cost, we must be true to who we are, we must seek to see that dream within us comes true. Love without condition, live without regret. I press my face against this shaky door and squint hoping to see a glimpse beyond the barrier of the umbrellas, but to no avail. Therefore, on bent knee I must pray that the unseen be met with the grace I need, with the mercy I don't deserve. Is today a time for meditation and prayer? We've surrendered all we have hoping that our prayers will be answered. Yet, we still hope. Yet we still pray to no avail. Unresolved situations or circumstances that linger throughout my life bear heavily upon my spirit. For me, it's a time for resolution. For you, unfortunately, it's a time of unending hopelessness. There comes a time when we must let go! We must resolve within ourselves that to continue to hope or to continue to bind ourselves to those people or families must be reconsidered. Therefore, today, with much dedication to preserving what's still left of me, I'll review my instructions to you. Not everyone means you well my dear. Not everyone adds value to your life. There are some we must let go who live within our minds to maintain our own stability. Repentantly, I cast myself inwardly to sort out feelings that I must either change or ignore. I suppose we've all come to that point where we must make a decision to allow us to survive." admitted mama as she slipped her fingers under the lip of the small envelope.

Pulling the envelope's cover back, she pushed her fingers inside to retrieve the last of her memories, the last of her dreams. Motioning Felicity to fetch another candle, the third one of the night, light it and place it on the candle stand, Sophia held the contents to her breasts, closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply.

"My child, these are my dreams that came true once in a fairy tale world much like that on the magic box, once in a world where love came true. I want you to have them. I want you to see that, like you, I too am a dreamer. I too believe that some how, some way, that knight in shiny armor will come save me from this hell I've been living." admitted her mama.

Each time she looked away, a tear fell. Each time she looked at Felicity, her soul grieved. For each of them, it was as if their souls were held in the balance between life and death.

Chapter

35

Reconciliation

How deep is the soul of a woman in love? How much sorrow can she bear? Once she's fallen in love, her first love, does she ever fall out of love with her that man? How secret are the secrets of her heart when life has taken all she has leaving her with nothing more to give, nothing more than a memory?

"Mama, what's that that you're holding? It doesn't look like the others you've read to me." Felicity stated as she lit the larger candle. It wasn't going to burn all day. Dawn was only a few hours away, morning birds were already chirping making themselves known through out the shanties. Mama had emptied out all that she had except for the last few pages she held in her left hand. It was those few pages that would give Felicity the final answers she'd longed for all of her life. Her mama knew that Felicity's dreamworld was filled with unknown people, both children and adults, but she also knew that there had been a stranger, a man, who'd shown her face from time to time. Whether Felicity understood the mystery behind her dream of the stranger or not didn't lessen the fact that the man in her dreams was real.

The storm's winds and rains were dying as the morning shards of light sliced through the morning clouds. For Sophia, the mornings were her favorite time, a time of hope, of promise. But for her and her mama, it would be a morning of deliverance. A morning of reconciliation of seeing one of the dreams come true.

"Felicity, open the door there and check outside. I don't think the storm has been as dreadful, as dangerous as we might have thought at first." mama said.

For Felicity, she knew that things weren't as bad as as she'd expected them to be. Unlike the other storms of years past, this one was nothing more than a pass over. A storm that sounds worse than it is regardless of the times it slammed against the shanties.

Standing in the doorway in the glow of the new candle behind her, she looked up and down the muddy dirt road now swollen with puddles and rain droplets. "It's not as bad as we'd expected it to be mama. There's water as usual in the road, but that's about it this time." she'd assessed the situation as best she could, turned and closed the door behind her.

"Good." replied mama as she felt relief from the anxiety each storm brings.

Minutes crept by as the two revisited many of her mama's stories. For Felicity, it was difficult for her to imagine her mama as a debutante, a young woman making her first appearance in fashionable society. Yet, to Felicity's surprise, her mama produced papers, certificates from the finishing school she'd attended, a diploma showing her scholastic achievements, and a listing of her family all of whom were strangers to her now. As an outcast, there weren't any ties that bound her to them.

"Where have you had these all of these years, mama? This, this is almost beyond comprehension, unbelievable. Why have you hid this from me, from us, and from yourself?" she asked as she held each sheet of paper up to the candle's light to read it more clearly.

"Felicity, those things are from a world I'm no longer a part of nor am I welcomed there. As I've explained to you, my life before the shanties is no more. My life, my family, all that I was is no more. There are very powerful people in the world you saw on the magic box at ole Mr. Sam's. And it's in that world that I lost my life, my dreams, my love."

"But mama, why didn't you ever try to fight them, to get your life back?" asked Felicity as she tried hard to understand why this woman before her, the woman who raised her, the backbone of the little family in the shanties never found a way out. "It just seems so unfair, if what you've told me is true that those people took all you had and you didn't fight back? she added.

"Life doesn't hand you a free ride my child. Life is filled with choices, with failures, and with the unknown. It's up to us, up to me and you and people like us when standing at the crossroads between two decisions to weigh the outcomes. At the time, I chose to step away. Why, you might ask. Because the people I was being threatened was able to take more from me than just my material things. They had the power and the money to take from me the most precious gift I possessed at the time. And that gift, that treasure I carried within me was you my sweet child. I gave it all up for you! I gave up my lover and all I possessed so I could keep you." Sophia said as she bent over sobbing and weeping as if it was that evening in the Farrington estate where the matriarch forced her to sign documents that she'd never seek to find Alexander or contact him in any way. It was that evening, in that moment, that her life passed away never to be resurrected.

For some time, the two women set together weeping. The sacrifice her mother made was something that flood Felicity's soul with grief. What greater love is there than to lay down your life for those you love, she thought. What greater gift to give than to give a child life. And, in that moment, Felicity discovered the answer to her questions as to who she was.

The dawn flooded the muddy dirt road, birds flocked in the moss-filled giant Oaks surrounding the shanty town. As for Felicity and her mama, the day had just begun. For the two women, there was a new world blooming that they weren't aware.

...

Ole Mr. Sam felt as though the day would be a good day. He'd slept though the night even with the storm banging against his store's shaky windows. Thankfully, none of them were broken. Thankfully, none of the loose shingles blew off the top unlike several other times before. No, this storm seemed as though it had a special meaning, a special mission to sequester those asking questions in a place where it could answer them.

Stepping from the back of the store, his living quarters, Ole Mr. Sam was startled to see a customer already in the store. It was early, around 8:00. It was customary for those who shopped there to come in later in the day, around noon. As ole Mr. Sam stopped long enough to put his store apron on and slip the back light switch, the first customer looked up at him, walked to the counter, and cleared his throat.

"Good morning, Sir!" the man said as he greeted the elder man.

"Good morning." replied ole Mr. Sam as he looked the man over from top to bottom.

This man was no local shanty man. He didn't look like a local shanty man. He didn't dress like a local shanty man. He didn't speak like a local shanty man. It was obvious to ole Mr. Sam that he was lost and needed directions. He hadn't picked up anything on his way in to leave on the counter. He'd made it his business to walk directly to the counter, address the owner, and wait for the expected response.

"Are you the owner?" he asked and waited.

"Yes, I'm the owner. I've been here goin' on 45 years. That should tell you something 'bout me." answered ole Mr. Sam as he continued to size the man up.

"Well, that's a record to be proud of sir. A fine record unmatched by many people." the man responded.

Ole Mr. Sam wasn't going to carry on this back and forth exchange of information and compliments much longer. He wanted the man to get to the point. What was he after? That was the question that would either silence the newcomer or incite a new conversation, one that the old man wasn't interested in taking on.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly can I help you with?" he asked. "Is there something that I can get for you?" asked Mr. Sam once he'd determined that the man wasn't really looking for anything other than information. Usually, as Mr. Sam remembered, newcomers always wanted information and never bought anything.

"Oh, I'm looking for someone. I've been looking for them for some time. I was told by a person, a man name Jerome, that I could get some answers from you because you know everyone in the area." answered the man in a three piece suite.

"Oh did he? Well, if anyone knows anything about me it would have to be Jerome. He's a busy-body and makes up stuff to make himself look good. But, this time he's right. I can help you. I know most people here bouts." answered Mr. Sam who'd walked around the counter and stood not six feet away from the stranger.

"Now that you've found the right man, who are you looking for?" he asked.

The stranger wasn't long answering his question. He knew who he was looking for, but had no idea where to find them. But, whatever it took, he'd make up his mind to not quit until he found them.

"I've traveled a long way, sir. This is the last place I know to look. I was told that beyond the thickets at the end of the road out there, there's a place called shanty town. I haven't looked there yet, but if you know the person I'm looking for and they're living there, then that's where I need to go." responded the stranger exhibiting a sense of urgency, a sense of commitment.

"What's the person's name, sir? The person you're looking for I mean."

Without hesitation, the stranger cleared his throat and told Mr. Sam what he needed to know.

"I'm looking for a woman named Sophia. I'm not sure what her last name is, but she goes by the name Sophia the last I've heard." answered the stranger as he looked directly at Mr. Sam without blinking.

Taking a moment to answer, ole Mr. Sam knew exactly the person the man was looking for. The question was should he tell him where his friend lived, her name, her children's names?".

Looking at the way the man was dressed, Mr. Sam concluded that he wasn't a member of some gang or some gangster man looking to start some trouble. No, he didn't speak like that type either. Therefore, he felt he could take a chance and tell the man what he wanted to know.

"Sir, we only have one person named Sophia. Her name is Sophie to us, but that's because she's our family here. She lives under the umbrellas, out the door and down the road to your left. You see where the road ends and a path leads you through the thickets." answered Ole Mr. Sam as he pointed so the man could see where to go.

"You family?" he asked the stranger.

"Yeah, I'm a distant member of a family she belongs to.

Thanking the old man and turning to leave the store, the stranger hastened down the step, down the muddy road, to the place where the path disappeared into the bushes. Ducking down and pushing the branches to the side, the stranger make his way under the umbrellas ever pushing forward toward the light at the end of the path. He could see the opening not far ahead and rushed ever faster to get out of the bushes. Once he'd existed the grove of old oaks, he found himself standing in mud up to his ankles. He wasn't worried about the shoes, no, he was searching for the woman who'd given all she had so he could live, so he could become the man he was now standing in the mud under the umbrellas.

At the other end of the road near the last alley, Sophia and Felicity had come to terms about their life. They knew that there weren't miracles or magic that would change their world. No, the truth was that there weren't any crystal balls or magic cards to free them from the mud and dirt and poverty that surrounded them.

"Felicity I need to check the outside walls to be sure we didn't lose any tin sheets. Give me a moment before we blow out the candle. I'll be right back" mama said as she pulled the door open, stepped out into the muddy road, and turned to assess the damage if there was any.

For a moment she thought she was seeing a vision down the muddy road far off in the distance. For a moment she thought she was having a stroke or something else that would cause her to have hallucinations. She stood looking at the man in the distance, a man in a three piece suit standing ankle deep in mud at the other end of the street. Who was this man that had lost his way? Was he a doctor looking for a sick person? What possible reason would this man, this businessman, this person completely out of place be doing standing in the road with mud up to his ankles looking directly at her.

Then in a moment, in a blink of an eye, she recognized him. She wasn't sure it was the man she'd kissed her last kiss, but it was him. It was the man who had to make a decision that he regretted years ago. He'd made the decision in those emotional days so that one day, after his mother was either bedridden or dead, he could come find his woman. The fact was that the matriarch had had a change of heart as she suffered from a long-term sickness and suffered a stroke. Bedridden and helpless, she contacted her son to find the mother of his child and bring her home. She wanted to see her grand daughter at least once before she left her world, her things all behind.

The man in the three piece suit could see the woman walking around in the mud checking her shanty house, but he needed to get closer to be sure. For him, as he walked closer, his heart told him it was Sophia. It was as if it were a revelation. He began to run through the muddy road, slipping and sliding as he went. Within ten feet of her, she turned to see the man she'd sacrificed all she had to keep their daughter. "Sophia!" he called out. Sophia turned in surprise.

"Alexander!" she cried with arms wide open.

Within moments, the two lovers were entangled in each other's arms as they had been many years before. He kissed her as if it had only been a few hours. Crying and sobbing like a baby herself, Sophia kissed her lover again, more deeply as they stood ankle deep in the mud as Felicity stood watching from the doorway of the shanty town dreamer's world.

"Let's go home!" whispered Alexander.

Turning to see Felicity standing in the doorway, Sophia knew that her child, their child, would be able to be the dreamer she'd always wanted to be. Her stories could be told, her life would become all she wanted it to be. "Felicity, my child, this is your father!" cried Sophia as she motioned for her to join them in the muddy road that ran through the middle of shanty town.

Weeping together over the lost years, Sophia held them both as tight as she could. Her dreams, her shanty town dreams, had come true after all.

"Let's go home." said Alexander., "Let's go home, all of us."