The Scent Of Lilacs

Chapter 7 starts below:


This story was begun on Monday, June 28, 2010 and is entitled Katie and Mr Werbowski. Sometimes, I'll still post photographs and jump back and forth, because that's just how I am!


So if you'd like, use the following link:


Katie and Mr Werbowski: The very first post


...For the very first installment! I 'll also copywrite it, so don't get any thoughts there either!
(Little joke there! As if!)
__________________
 Chapter 7
 The Scent Of Lilacs

The heavy door latched with a clunk and Katie turned toward the dusty streets of Dublin. 


        "Hail there lass!" Came a lusty growl and Katie sidestepped the horses hooves and beasts pulling a dray.
           "Morning Mr McGovern!" She shouted, but the man, team of Clydes and wagon load of firewood had plodded on down the street. All she could see of the driver was a hand raised in greeting. No time for pleasantries for sure on this weekday morn'. She must herself make haste in order to get this letter on it's long journey to America! 
   " I should have asked in my letter if Missouri had telegraph?" She made a mental note to asking her next correspondence to Mr Werbowski. Surely, even if the farm was far removed from a city, there must be a telegraph machine for the train? She must stop and ask at the Post Office.
       The post office in question was just a few blocks from her parents home because of course, they lived in the oldest and also poorest section of Belfast due to financial restraints.
       "It will be grand to get Ma and Da out of this despicable city!" She cursed under her breath and sidestepped yet another horse plop. "I must come back this way," she thought. That plop will sure an' be dry by the time I come back!" Even if she was bound for America, there were still many bleak and blustery months ahead to survive and dried horse dung made a nice and cheap, toasty fire! 
       Katie had trod this same path to the post many times, but today was the first in many years that she actually hummed a tune! Now that she had made up her mind to go and her path was set, she felt somehow that there was a possibility of happiness in this life of hers that had before this, been one of just hard work and grime. When her brother had been forced to flee the country, she had made him promise to find a way to fetch her and when he had written that there were so many men in the wilder parts of America and not so many women still yet, they had hatched this plan: To find Katie a husband! Because of course, a slip of a thing like fair Katie could be allowed to work her fingers to the bone in Ireland and die a haggard old crone, but not ever could she leave her parent's protection without a man at her side! 
      Even just remembering that heated conversation with her Da two Christmases ago, she grimaced and cursed! "By the gods! I'll be free of this land full o' killin'!" She shook her head in denial of everything Belfast. "I won't stay here an' watch it na' more!"
   She quickened her pace in determination and just as she was rounding the last corner, she caught her reflection in the windows of a dry goods store. 
    The image of a young woman stared back at her in serious concentration. Slight, only five foot three inches tall and her bones stuck out at all the angles: Ankles and elbows and that pointy chin! That's what a person saw when they looked!
    "Gor!" She drew herself up as tall as she could and her hand found the errant wisp of red blond hair that always wanted to hide her eyes. "The mess you look lass an' you think a man will want you!"
     Her gaze was drawn through the glass of the window and took in the items temptingly displayed there for shoppers.  An idea formed in her mind. "Clever Katie!" She congratulated herself and reached into the folds of her smock for the pocket there and yes, there were the few coins she always carried with her. "For emergencies my girl!" Her Mam had always taught. "Ye must have need of a penny or two and you always have to make sure you carry a few! Never be caught without yer mad money me lass!" This was the very first time in her young life that Katie actually had need of the coins and glad she was that they were tucked in there! 
     She walked into the dim cavern of the dry goods store. 
    "Mornin' lass!" The store clerk greeted, seeming to sniff a sale. "An' what cha' be a lookin' for this fine fall morn?" His toothy grin was meant as pleasant, but Katie only shivered. His chin bore a jagged gash of a scar that only a bullet would leave. "Just another reminder that I'm doin' the right thing." She thought.
  "Mornin' sir, I would like to see the scented soaps if I might please? My mam is poorly an' I was thinking that a wee bit of scent might perk her up! Do you have anything in lilac?"
     The store clerk rushed over to the counter and snatched up a block of creamy soap stamped prettily in the center with the shape of a lilac flower. "Hand milled and straight from Paris France!" He proudly proclaimed! "This is a gift fit for a queen! Your Mam will love it I'm certain!" 
      Katie took the small bar in her hand and almost gasped aloud as she spied the price tag and silently cursed herself!
        "Ooh! I only have my few pennies! Not enough to buy this! What will I do?" The unspoken words ran through her mind and just as quickly as she spoke, she turned her wide, green eyes up to the clerk and asked, "Oh! An' do you have any lilac water to go along?" Her eyes searched the shelves behind the clerk as if seeing a bottle of perfume there. The clerk turned to look, as she hoped he would.
   
        Katie quickly drew the letter back and forth over the surface of the bar of soap, hoping it would take on some of the beautiful, aristocratic scent.


        By the time the clerk turned back to her, she had the bar of soap reaching back over to him and she plopped it into his hand. 


        "Oh! I think I hear me Da! I'll be right back! Thank you!" And she fled the store, the clerk not seeming to be the wiser for the transfer.
   Katie fairly skipped the rest of the way to the post and slipped the letter over the counter. At least the letter would smell like she was sophisticated! She prayed:

       ..."Oh Lord! Please let it still be there in America!"
                  .....Mr Werbowski lurched toward the wagon and grabbed the envelope. His senses were tickled with a hint of fresh lilac. His nose involuntarily lowered to the thin parchment of an envelope adorned with fine, fancy handwriting and drew in a heavenly scent. "Ah!" Tears filled his eyes.

           

A Journey Begun

Chapter 5  starts below:
 

This story was begun on Monday, June 28, 2010 and is entitled Katie and Mr Werbowski. Sometimes, I'll still post photographs and jump back and forth, because that's just how I am!


So if you'd like, use the following link:


Katie and Mr Werbowski: The very first post


...For the very first installment! I 'll also copywrite it, so don't get any thoughts there either!
(Little joke there! As if!)
__________________


Chapter 5


      Katie finally sobbed herself to sleep that night and crawled into her bed in the rafters with a heavy heart. The sleep of total exhaustion enveloped her and a finger of morning light found it's way through the thatch of the roof way too soon.  She rubbed her gritty, swollen eyes and sighed. "Well my girl? You've decided and so ye'd best make tha' best of it!" She swung out from under the bedclothes and made her way back to the worn, wooden kitchen table where she had last night sealed her fate into a filmy piece of paper.
    Today, she would begin the process of telling her hard won customers that she would no longer be available for their abusive comments and filthy clothes!  She lifted her chin just a notch. "An' that'll be a joy, it will!"
    "What di' you say there my Katie?" Her mother was already at the sink, a big spoon in hand and as she turned to give the oatmeal a stir, she jumped into Katie's thoughts: "Are ye a goin' to tell your customers today? You hated the drudgery for sure!"
      "How did she read my mind?" Katie thought and then with a brave smile she answered: "Yes, I hated the servitude o' it Mam, but it was work all the same and I was glad o' it!"
      Her mother again waived the worn, wooden spoon for emphasis. "There'll be none of that where you're goin' and for that I'll be ever grateful to your brother Sean and that Polish man!" And then she noticed her beloved daughter's weary countenance and scurried over to her side." Aw my babe! Is it changin' your mind you're thinkin'?"
     "No Mam. It's surely I'll be missin' you and Da though." And then an idea invaded her mind like a bingo ball popping out the bubble to go down the chute. "Oh!" She couldn't help but give a start!
        "If I'm able and sent for you, would you an Da come to Missouri?" Her hand fled to her lips almost as if the thought wasn't better to be spoken! Where had that come from?
        Her Mam fell back against the solidness of the sink and for a moment,  Katie thought she might have to rush over and support her mam's weight. "Mam? Are you alright?" She quivered herself in fear!
        And then the future took an enormous swing to the positive and Katie's Mam said: "Why..... Why yes! We could!  Do you suppose your Polish man would bring us?"


           ....And Katie didn't know, but answered all the same, "Don't worry Mam. You an' Da will be with me in that Missouri before the next year is gone by!


             ...And Katie began placing the crockery for breakfast. She had to start this journey she had set herself and her family upon!
     
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PS: If anybody's wondering... I've got a promotion and once again, life is getting in the way. So! If I go missing for a couple of days, don't worry, I'll be back again as soon as I catch my breath!

Walking Up The Lane

This story was begun on Monday, June 28, 2010 and is entitled Katie and Mr Werbowski. Sometimes, I'll still post photographs and jump back and forth, because that's just how I am!
So if you'd like, use the following link:


Katie and Mr Werbowski: The very first post

...For the very first installment! 

I 'll also copywrite it, so don't get any thoughts there either!(Little joke there! As if!)

__________________

Chapter 4

Walking Up The Lane

              Mr Werbowski fairly skipped up the lane! Well, if a fairly big man could skip and hop, that's what he would have done!

               "John" as he thought of himself, was so truly, unbelievably happy! He had his letter in his hand, (gently held so as not to ruin the fragile paper! He would never let anything happen to this letter of hers!) And... The very fact that she had written at all, was just so unbelievably unbelievable!

            Little puffs of dust kicked up with each joyous footstep! The cuffs of his work trousers becoming chalky with it! A whiff of Missouri river sand hit his nostrils and plop! He stopped! He looked down towards his planted feet.

           "What will a young lady think Jack?" He demanded to the yellow dog. 

Jack of course just plopped himself on his haunches, (swirling more dust) and twisting his wide noggin sideways in universal dog-ism, asked his master: "What cha' mean boss?"

          John, hands and arms flailed in anguished expression of his dismay and he yelled his misgivings to the heavens: " I've finally found meself a young lady and what on earth will I do with this bachelor's farm?" 

          His worried eyes took in the view.....

So here's something else: I've never been to either Missouri or Ireland, so if I make a historical, geographic or period information mistake, I'm sorry!

These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.

What To Write?

 Sucking the tip.


         Gripping it's feathery length. So hard to hold with any dexterity in your hand. A hand so chapped and worn from the lye soap and boiling water. Be damned!


         Katie threw down the quill and wrung her tired hands in anguish! "What shall I say?"

      What on this heaven's earth could she write to an American man she had never yet met?


A Mr Werbowski. 

           Ma had told her that he was Polish from Poland, but he was in America? Would she be able to have a conversation with him? Would he understand her lilting Irish speech? 


         "Sure and 'tis enough o' that!" She drew her dainty feet firmly beneath her chair, set her teeth and again clenched the fragile quill in her right hand. She started:

Dear Mr Werbowski,

       (Would 'Dear' be too personal? She hadn't met the man!  Well, she pondered, that was how she'd been taught the way to write a proper letter was and by gor! She'd at least be proper! Mebe' this Polish man wouldna' have any schooling, but she did and she'd be proper about this whole affair, she would!)

          My brother has said many good things of you and your wonderful farm in Missouri. It sounds truly beautiful and not at all like my home in Belfast. I am grateful that my brother has sent enough money for me to come to such a wonderful country full of such plenty and has befriended a kind and successful man such as yourself. 

          (Whew! Katie wiped her brow. She wasn't used to speaking so many words at once! This letter writing was na' what it was held up ta' be!

    Her brother had written a letter simply stating that this man was looking for a 'comely' woman of child bearing years to marry and work the farm with him. Her Ma and Da had told her she was comely, even pretty on the occasion of her birthday, but... and here she tucked a stray curl of strawberry hair behind her ear, but would a Polish man think she was pretty? What did Polish women look like? Lor'! She had never laid eyes on one herself! 

      Katie had read the letter to her Ma and Da because of course, they couldn't read. The three of them sitting around the harsh wooden kitchen table and sitting on the stools of many generations handed down. The firelight had made the words from America come alive! Her breath had come quicker in her chest just at the thought of America! Land o' the free and so much plenty and space! Could it be true that a man wanted to bring her there?

        "Ma! Da! What should I do? How ca' I leave you both?" Katie had cried the words, flinging them out to the loving ears of her parents.

            "An' go you will child," was her mother's gentile voice. "Aye! Go my girl of my heart and you don' na' turn back! Yer Ma and me'l get by an' live happier knowin' you've got a better life!"

         

         "Da! Should I go to the priest? Da! Should I?"

         And her Da had scrunched his bristly eyebrows together, gently slammed a clenched fist to the table top and with vehemence, but also an indoor voice, proclaimed: " The priest won't feed ya or look after ya! You go!" And with that he had shoved off his stool and slammed out the door!

         Ma had said later that it was his way of dealing with the "losin' o' his rosie haired girl!"

          

            And that had been the whole conversation that had decided her fate!)

        I have considered your kind offer of marriage and have spoken long with my father and priest and I write to you now to let you know that I will accept!

        (It was a small lie to say about the priest she knew, but gor! It needed to sound like she had a head about her!)

         I come by train and I am hoping you will be at the station to pick me up. 

      (The boat and train tickets had taken all of her savings and her brother's bits would need to pay for her food! The ticket master had knowingly told her that Missouri was almost half way across America and that was farther than she could imagine? She had clutched her shawl to her breast and shivered as if it was January and it being only September!
      And how on earth would she find his farm if he didn't come to meet her?  Katie whispered a prayer as her hand continued this letter of new life... "Please god! Let him be a man who would meet his new wife!" Her fingers swung the sign of the cross on her chest.)

    I must apologize for traveling with a trunk and hope it will not be an inconvenience.

    (Her ma and her had been stitching and tucking away since she'd come to womanhood in preparation of this time. A decent girl came with a dowry. It didn't matter it wasn't grand or a whole house worth, but she'd need some necessities in the wilds of America she would!
      Her normal spunk surfaced for just one moment and raised itself above the terror of her enterprise. "He'd better no mind!"
       She gazed toward the eternally grit soaked window, clenched her teeth in determination and finished her letter. )

         Your offer is very kind and I await our marriage and new life. I promise to work very hard and make you proud of your new Irish wife.

        Yours truly,

              Katie Donovan

         Very deliberately, the fine boned Irish lass her parents had named Katie, lifted the stub of tallow candle and gently dripped a splash of wax upon the folds of her letter to seal.

            Katie flung the pen across the floor with a clatter and sobbed...

      

The Letter

The paper came from pennies made with her sweat and the muscle wrenching wringing of other people's clothes. The boiling water to wash them in had been the back breaking labor of carrying the buckets from the only tap in the square. The fire under the enormous cast iron kettle built from precious kindling. (There was no "hot and cold" here in this time and place.) The soap; sparingly shaved from a hard brick of harsh lye.

She had saved each and every penny that hadn't been needed to feed the family. Saved and saved and when her brother had finally come to rescue her with such news, she had been ready.


 For she knew that she would not, could not stay in this city!


 The filth and misery that was the place of her birth would be replaced with a greener, wider country that they promised was free of conflict between this religion and that. Cousin against cousin and neighbor against neighbor. It would never stop.


 Katie felt her red rimed eyes fill with tears as she picked up her pen to write the letter.


 Dear Mr Werbowski..... She began.....

A Story

Inside the lid of a trunk is a story.



The war had passed a couple of months ago. At least that's what Ma told us. Nobody fought anymore. That's what Grandpa told us. The slaves were free now. That's what the poster on the painted wall at the Post Office told us. 


We were supposed to be in what those posters called "An Economic Rise!"


"Why am I so hungry Momma?"


"Shh! Little one!" My momma crooned, rubbing my back with her calloused hand, worn scrawny and almost to the bone from too much scrubbing and hard work.


"Your Daddy'll be back soon." She promised for the hundredth time.



I could only hope.


We had been without food now for ten days. Momma and I, (I was the oldest of three you see,) had let the hard bits of biscuit softened in water go to the young 'uns. The two babies were barely alive and we had patiently scooped a tiny bit of the gruel onto our fingertips and hand fed them. Momma couldn't feed them her milk anymore. Not enough food herself, I guessed.


The bits of vegetables we could scrounge from the nearby woods had run out and we couldn't walk farther and get back before dark. How I hated potatoes! 


How I would adore a potato!  Just thinking about the sweet orange flesh made my stomach growl alarmingly. Momma started to sing. 


"Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home" Her voice carried throughout our house. It comforted me. Bouncing off the bare floors and curtain less windows.  We'd had to sell most of our furniture for food.



"Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home." Her words trailed off and opening my eyes, I searched her face. Oh! What if my momma went away like grandma had? I couldn't bear the thought! She was holding her breath.


"I hear something!" She whispered. Out the door we ran!


Daddy had come back!

              
I don't know if the uniform is correct or that's where this trunk came from, but this is what I congured up in my head the instant I saw this. 


Please feel free to create your story own and add in the comment section.  Where do you think this illustration is from and what is your version of it's story?


I can hardly wait to see what you send me!