Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider (21 page)

“Unless, what, Edmund?” Mary asked eagerly. “Unless Mary, you wish to marry me?” I got down before Mary on one knee and offered her my hand in marriage to save her from shaming herself and her family. I didn’t love her as I thought, I wanted to spend my life with Gert, but I would do this, it would be a small sacrifice for all the love and care she bestowed upon me when I was a child. It was ironic, though, that I came here to ask for her help in choosing a ring for Gert.

“Marry you?” she fingered the ruching on her sleeves inseams nervously, and said, “Eddie, you are so dear to me, and I love you for asking, for being willing to take another man’s child as your own to protect my name. But I love Scotty and furthermore you and I are cousins, more like brother and sister and it wouldn’t be right. Besides, Edmund, you are but a child yourself.”

I felt the truth sting much like the slap she gave me when I forced a kiss upon her. However, several points needed to be debated.

“First of all, we aren’t biologically related; secondly, we could be very happy, Mary. I have proved to be good at making money, I am accelerated in all my courses, plan to graduate a year early, and then go to law school. Furthermore, I take insult to you calling me a child. I’ll have you know I am a man now.” I cleared my throat upon the admission and let her mind wander as to what precisely this meant. I was nearly fifteen, was now as tall as Pap, and behaved more like a man than half the idiots in this town.

We sat in silence on the bed, each lost in thought. I thought about my intimacy with Gert and shook my head at her current befouled state.

“After what we suffered through as children, above all else we have to be certain this one has a home, and two parents to love it for its entire life.” They both thought back to their time aboard the orphan train with angst. Mary at least remembered her family; I didn’t, although in recent years we found out my mother most likely died from typhoid or yellow fever. My father was still unknown.

I took off my frock, adjusted my vest and cravat before taking Mary by the hands.

“How are you feeling? Have you been ill?” She had filled out now that I took the time to notice, her breasts were swollen and her belly protruding slightly, the secret would not be a secret for much longer.

“I had morning sickness for a few weeks, and it was challenging with Edna hovering. I told her it was a stomach bug and she believed me. Now I feel better, energetic actually, the baby is moving, want to feel?”

She grabbed my hand before I could say no and placed it directly on her belly, sure enough the baby kicked.

“Ha! I felt that!” What a delight. Perhaps this was cause for celebration rather than worry and angst. I told Mary so, but she feared over Edna and Pap, not wanting to besmirch their good name.

“They dislike Scotty, which is not fair. Just because he doesn’t dress like they do and hold a higher degree gives them no cause, no cause at all. He is a man now, Eddie, a truly good man. If he knew I was with child he would find a way through this.”

“It seems trouble follows him, does it not? Are you sure you won’t change your mind about this?”

“I am certain. I wanted this. I love this child already and love Scotty more than I ever thought possible.”

“Well then, I must go find him for you. I will say I have business for the paper. Wait, where do you suppose he is?”

“He is in the city, the last place you want to go. They won’t believe you, nor will they let you go back to the city un-chaperoned, you are only a boy.”

“Hmmm, you are right, I never wanted to go back to that rotten place but if I must I will do it. I have to figure out a way to get their permission. I am not a boy, I am a young man. You must stop thinking of me that way. Why New York anyhow? What’s there for Scotty?”

“He was searching for Pauli and Candy.” Mary told me all about Pauli and Candy, and more about Scotty than I had ever known. He was no different from Mary, myself, or Gert even. We were all survivors. Children that were orphaned for various reasons, with a legacy no less.

“I have a delicate situation at home, did you hear about my friend Gert?” I proceeded to tell Mary about my trysts with Gert, neither of us was so perfect after all. She was devastated that such a thing could happen in our small town. No matter what, she would see to it that Gert was taken care of. She would volunteer to help her and tend her every need while I was away. I knew this to be true as Gert could be in no better hands than those of the three women I was lucky enough to call my family.

I rose early the following morning, my bags were packed and I needed only to feign an excuse to go away for a few days. Perhaps I could tell Sarah that seeing Gert in so much distress was just too unsettling, and I needed to go somewhere alone where I could think. She wouldn’t buy the story that the newspaper I worked for on weekends doing deliveries and sometimes articles would send me to the city for business.

Before I finished contemplating this Sarah was bustling down the hallway towards Gert’s room, but she popped her head in to say good morning to me and dropped a note that was left by Mary earlier while she was heading to tutor a student before school hours.

The note read;

My Dearest Edmund, Eddie,

I simply cannot let you go to New York City; it is no place for a young lad such as yourself. I remember the streets well and am certain I will find my love and be home soon. Please do not concern yourself with me, remember that I survived the streets alone as a very small child, so surely I can do so now. I have taken my allowance with me and will secure a room in a decent hotel. It will feel strange to board a train once more without you in my arms for security. I will miss you. I left Edna and Pap a note, telling them of my predicament. I hope they can find it in their hearts to make room for my child, and forgiveness for me. But I must follow my heart…for I no longer have only myself to think of.

Love Forever,

Mary

I folded the note in fours and tucked it under my mattress, “Oh Mary, what have you done?”

Chapter 17 The Fight Circuit

Anger pulsed through my veins with such velocity it was difficult to sit still on the train ride from Binghamton to New York City. Eyes closed, my reverie was induced by the train screeching and winding along the curvaceous tracks, whistling its horn, the scenery outside my window as desolate now as it was all those years ago. Babies cried constantly as they did on my last fateful trip, people mingled, and dined. The only difference was these passengers had specific destinations and were going about their business. Some were on their way to or from a work conference, dressed in a business casual manner, gentlemen in tweed suits, ladies with bonnets and straight dresses, children in colorful prints excited by the adventure they undertook.

I had not thought this trip would be so burdensome, forcing me to think about what I left behind both in Binghamton now and in the city all those years ago. I reflected on my siblings, little Eli would be a teenager now if he were still alive. Guilt nagged at my insides, making me nauseous at the thought of Eli in a gang or begging for food on a corner somewhere, worse he could be dead along with thousands of other orphans. Thoughts of my mother and father entered my mind although I pushed them aside, not wanting them to interfere with my current frustrated mental state. These thoughts would threaten to pull me down further under my pity, forcing me to wallow all the more from missing Mary and going back to this pit I once called home.

Upon my arrival I took note that the city had not changed much since I left. The fast moving current of people disregarded the putrid stench of piss and shit that assaulted my nose once again. There were wall to wall people milling about in the Five Points speaking hundreds of languages. Abandoned children still paraded through the streets, picking through garbage and begging for money. The scene was nothing if not pathetic. I was overcome that I was once a child of the streets; did I really look so ragged? I spent many years begging, sweeping, and finally fighting, quite literally for my life. It was more obvious to me now than ever before, had I stayed here and not gone on the orphan train, I would surely be dead.

I desperately wanted to help the children, put them on the trains that were still in operation and send them towards a chance for a better life. I empathized with their plight and struggle just to stay alive. Pauli helped provide me with food and shelter for a time, but more often than not I was left to my own devices, getting into trouble, fighting for survival, stealing and begging just as thousands of kids were doing now.

I had to find Pauli and meet the child he and Candy shared, my sibling. He may be able to help me find work and keep my mind from worrying too much about Mary. If they were not here I would bide my time, help as many orphans as possible before going back to Binghamton.

I desperately missed Mary and promised to get word to her, but that was challenging. So far I had found nothing but trouble. Employment was next to impossible in the city, the more I looked for work the more bereft I became. My money was dwindling fast. The Wrights sent me with fifty dollars, but after spending several nights in a decent hotel and paying for meals I was nearly broke again. What was it about this city that made me feel so incompetent? It was impossible to get ahead.

I saw posters for ‘world champion fights’ on nearly every street corner. “Vladimir the Victor” was to fight the Irish immigrant named Patrick Kelly tonight. I had to be there, if Pauli was anywhere in this God forsaken city, he would be at a fight.

I shuffled through the fast moving current of people to the arena on Anthony Street early, donned my old spy hat and slipped unnoticed behind the scenes of each team. Trainers were on hand as well as one or two doctors per team. Back when I fought, there was no doctor, just Pauli, if you broke your nose, he straightened it, and if you were bleeding you taped it. Broken ribs, you suffered through but no one ever required a doctor. This must be one hell of a match up. Vladimir wore faux leather shorts with fur trim; he was an enormous showboat, getting the crowd riled up by filling the arena with taunts and jeers at his opponent’s country. His shoulders were the size of cantaloupes and were just as hairy as the rest of him. He was imposing physically, but when in the ring facing his opponent, he gave him a death glare, his stone face not once twitching. Patrick Kelly bravely entered the ring wearing green shorts to represent his country, the crowd cheered for him. The opening bell rang and Patrick held his own for the first three rounds, using interesting combinations and a fantastic straight punch, but then pain and exhaustion set in. He had taken too many hits to the gut and was no match for Vladimir. He went down ten seconds into the fourth round, when Vladimir searched the crowd, looking for someone else to fight I met his eyes, but was not up to the challenge. Yet.

I spoke to the bookies asking them what type of money was involved if someone beat Vladimir and how many people had tried? I looked at the crowd mingling around me, thinking if I could find someone meeting Vlad’s stature, I could train him and take a percentage of the winnings to help me get by for the time being. I remembered my skills, had honed them regularly to keep in shape. I also scanned the crowd for Pauli.

The fight atmosphere tickled my blood; I felt a surge of adrenaline watching the following match ups. Fighting had been a part of my life and once it’s in your blood it’s hard not to get sucked back in. I could practically feel myself in the ring throwing punches, jab, punch, straight, uppercut, and jab. Here was a place where you took matters into your own hands, no one made decisions for you, told you what to do or how.

Several more days spent searching for Candy and Pauli in Five Points left me broke. I would walk everywhere I went now, and had decided to head further up town and have a look around.

I was smitten with the Broadway theater notices and posters lining the streets advertising operettas and pantomimes, and even felt tempted towards the museums that had opened in recent years. However, the more I searched the hungrier I grew and more dire my circumstances became. I had checked the Brewery and every other factory known for fighting and gambling in town, and needed to decide whether or not I should stay or face my discord and head home. Home, that was an unusual word coming from an orphaned child, now farm boy, particularly one suspected of heinous crimes.

I went back to the arena where the fights were held and asked around once more for Pauli and Candice. I got to talking with a trainer and he offered my one hundred dollars in an amateur bout in one week. He said I could use the facilities and eat with their team. They called themselves the ‘Gutter Boys’.

The Gutter Boys grew up in the dredges of Five Points and were often pitted against one another anyway; they put together a team of ruffians willing to fight and so far had done quite well. They made money because most people bet against them, they were scrappy and smaller than most of their opponents.

I agreed to the fight. One hundred dollars would get me home and give me some money left over that I could use to start a bank account.

I started my training immediately, greeting the day with a mixture of hope and fear. I broke my fast with a plate of eggs, fried chicken, plenty of fruit and yogurt and toast, gobbling it down as if it were my last meal.

It might not be a smart move but it was going to earn me much needed money.