Sisters

SISTERS

by

Meredith Rae Morgan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Meredith Morgan

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. The characters, events and circumstances depicted here are imaginary (or, more accurately they are something of a fantasy for me). Any resemblance between the characters or events herein and any real people or events is purely coincidental.

This book is dedicated to the many wonderful nuns and priests who taught me the value of making commitments and keeping them, and especially the ones who were courageous enough to encourage their students to follow their own conscience, even if it meant challenging the status quo.

Charlotte

Charlotte Rose Jefferson was born at home on her family's farm near Gallipolis, Ohio. She never knew her exact birth date, but she believed she was born in 1938. She had three older brothers and one younger one. Her father worked on a river barge on the Ohio River and was gone for long periods of time, leaving her mother to care for the family, alone, on a farm that was approximately six miles from the nearest town. Their old truck broke down frequently, and, even more frequently, they couldn't afford to put gas in it. The children often had to walk to the store to buy supplies and then lug the groceries home. More often than not, they did not have the money to pay for what they needed, in which case they begged the store owner to give them credit or made such a pitiful scene that one of the other customers would give them some money. Frequently, one or two of the kids would create a distraction and the others would simply steal what they needed.

Charlotte never remembered her mother leaving the farm for any reason.

None of the children attended school. Occasionally truant officers nosed around, but the children hid and their parents denied they had any children, although they did occasionally admit to having some nieces and nephews visiting for a while. Since all of the children had been born at home and none of the births had been recorded, the school had little information to go on in order to enforce the mandatory school attendance laws. As a consequence, all of the children were illiterate and almost completely ignorant of the world outside of the farm.

The boys worked the tobacco fields while their mother and Charlotte tended the vegetable garden and took care of the house. The children were not allowed to play with other kids. Other than their excursions to the grocery store, they were not allowed to leave the property. Their mother was a dour woman who rarely said anything to them other than to give them orders. They had no telephone and no TV. Their parents had a radio, but it was in the bedroom and the children were not allowed to listen to it. There were no books in the house. Later, Charlotte remembered her childhood as a dark and mean existence.

Their sole potential source of entertainment was a battered and hopelessly out-of-tune piano that had gathered dust in the parlor since Charlotte's grandmother died when Charlotte was a baby. Charlotte was fascinated by the piano and knew that somehow it could give great pleasure if she could figure out what to do with it. She was not allowed to touch it, but she spent hours every week contemplating the wonderful things it might be able to do. For Charlotte, the mysteries of the piano made it an almost an object of worship, which was the closest thing she knew to religious faith in a family that had no religion.

Charlotte's passion was baking bread and pastries. She learned to cook at a very young age, and she loved to bake. By the time she was ten or so, she had taken over full responsibility for providing bread, biscuits, pies and, occasionally (when they had eggs), cakes for the family. Baking was the one thing that gave her pleasure as a child. It made her feel she was contributing something valuable to her family, and that gave her a sense of purpose. Moreover, the kinesthetic experience of the touch, feel and smell of baked goods – particularly bread – nurtured her sensuous nature, perhaps more than her mother would have permitted had she known about Charlotte's feelings.

Life alone with her mother and the boys on the farm when their father was away was grim and hard. Life on the farm when Papa was home was hell on earth. Charlotte described him as a mean, hateful drunk who terrorized the household. He was physically abusive to the boys, and emotionally and verbally abusive to his wife and Charlotte. Charlotte could not recall her father ever hitting her or her mother, although her mother occasionally turned up with bruises on her arms. He beat the boys with whatever was handy whenever he lost his temper, but the worst beatings were conducted in the barn – with a belt.

The entire family lived in fear when their father was at home. Fortunately, during Charlotte's early years, he was rarely home more than a few days at a time.

At intervals the oldest two boys left home. One day her oldest brother was gone when the family got up. They never heard from him again. Two years later, the next brother disappeared in the same way. Neither of the parents ever mentioned either of the boys again. Charlotte missed them terribly. For a while. Until they were reduced to vague sore spots in her memory.

When Charlotte was about fifteen, her father was seriously hurt on his job. He spent several weeks in bed recovering from his injuries, and the children came to understand (from eavesdropping on conversations between their parents) that he would not be able to return to his job on the river.

Early one morning Charlotte's remaining older brother cornered her in the barn. He said he thought it was time to discuss what the kids should do now that their father would be staying home for good. He told her that, as bad as he had been before, he reckoned that things would get much worse if Pa was going to be home all the time – and in pain, to boot. Charlotte's older brother was about seventeen; Charlotte was a year or two younger; the baby was seven. Charlotte and her brother decided to run away and take their little brother with them, to keep him out of harm's way.

The children had never been further from home than the grocery. They were totally illiterate. They didn't even know the name of their home town. They had been taught to fear and mistrust outsiders. Still, they felt they had to risk venturing out in the world to avoid the abuse at home, and – most importantly – to keep their little brother safe.

That night each of the older children packed a change of underwear and socks in a sack. Charlotte packed some clothes for little Jerry and stripped the blankets from both their beds. Then she stole some bread and a jar of jelly from the pantry. Before dawn, they roused Jerry, and the three of them sneaked off into the woods. They got far enough away from the house to feel safe until dawn, but not so far as to get too close to the river and risk falling in. There, they huddled against a tree until the sun came up.

The children stayed in the woods for fear their parents would come after them. (That didn't happen.) They walked a whole day in the woods, venturing near the highway only a couple of times in order to get water and allow Charlotte to use the bathroom at gas stations. The next morning they were out of food and it threatened to rain. They were near a town, so remote hiding places were becoming harder to find.

They came across a house with a detached garage, so they sneaked into the garage and hid just before the storm broke. To their delight they discovered the owners of the house had a spare refrigerator in the garage as well as a storage pantry filled with dry goods and canned food. The refrigerator contained such magnificent treats as soft drinks (the kids had heard their father talk about pop but they had never tasted it) and grapefruit. They loaded up on soda, grapefruit and canned peaches. Then, after the sugar high wore off, they all collapsed into an exhausted sleep, curled up in a heap like puppies, in the far corner of the garage.

That is how the woman who owned the home found them late in the afternoon, after the storm passed and she went to the garage to check for leaks.

She had a pretty good idea who they were. She was on the local School Board and she had heard for years about the wild children out at the Jefferson place whose very existence the parents denied, but who showed up periodically at the A&P to beg for and/or steal groceries. The word had gone around that the old man was off the river for good due to an injury that had been nearly fatal. The woman didn't have to ask why the kids were sleeping in her garage. Everybody around knew that Old Man Jefferson was a mean drunk in public. They assumed he was no better at home.

She went into the house and added potatoes and more vegetables to the soup she had put on for dinner. Then she went to the attic and dug through boxes of her children's old clothes that she had saved because she couldn't make herself part with them. She had been meaning to get rid of that stuff for years. Now it would serve a purpose.

After pulling out a few outfits she thought might fit the refugees in her garage, she went back outside, woke them up and shooed them into the house where she ordered them to bathe and change clothes if they wanted any supper. None of them was terribly fond of bathing, but the smell of the soup was incentive enough to ensure their cooperation.

Charlotte took a quick bath and then bathed her little brother in one bathroom while Charlie took a shower in another bathroom. Charlotte was schocked that one house would have two bathrooms with indoor running water and bathtub that you didn't have to fill with hot water from the stove.

They ate soup and home-made bread with cherry pie for dessert. Charlotte thought the pie crust was a bit gooey, but she didn't say anything because the woman was so kind, and she didn't want to hurt the lady's feelings by criticizing her cooking. Charlotte hoped she might have the opportunity to show the lady how to make a good pie-crust that flaked properly, by way of gratitude. The woman bedded them down in separate rooms after dinner. Jerry was afraid, and came in to Charlotte's room where he slept with her.

The next morning Charlie was gone.

The woman was concerned and wondered out loud if they should call the police. Charlotte pleaded, Oh, ma'am, please don't call the law. Charlie'll be okay. He'll probably find the Army. I think that's where the other boys went.

How many children are there in your family.

Two older than Charlie (they went away a while ago). Then Charlie. Then me. Jerry is the baby.

Charlotte and Jerry spent a couple of days with the lady. On the third day, she sat down with Charlotte at the table after dinner and said, We need to talk about what to do next. You and Jerry can't stay here. Do you want to go home?

Charlotte chuckled, No, ma'am, we don't want to go home. Do you want us to go on our way?

The woman shook her head, No. I am not going to simply put you out on the street. I want you to be safe, but legally I can't let you stay here. Besides, you are still too close to home. I'm afraid your father will hear that you are with me and come after you.

Charlotte involuntarily shuddered and managed, somehow, not to cry. She asked, What do you think we should do?

Do you know what an orphanage is?

No.

It's a place where children go when they can't go home.

Charlotte made a face and said, I guess that sounds like the kind of place Jerry and me ought to go. Where can we find one of these orf'nages?

There are several around, but I think the best place for you would be the one run by the Franciscan Sisters in Columbus.

What's Columbus?

It's the capital of Ohio?

What's Ohio?

You mean to tell me you don't know where you are from?

I'm from a farm by the river.

What is your address.

What's an address?

What is your home town?

We don't live in no town. We live on a farm. Pa works on the river. Or he used to 'fore he got hurt real bad. Now he's home for good.

Is that why you left?

Charlotte thought for a while before she answered, but decided to be honest, Yes'm. Pa's pretty mean ordinarily. We figured he'd be meaner than ever, what with him bein' hurt and with no work to do.

The orphanage I have in mind is in Columbus. That's some distance away.

Mebbe that's a good thing. Papa won't be able to find us there.

That's my thinking.

How can we get there?

I'll take you.

Thank you, ma'am.

The next morning, the woman loaded Charlotte and Jerry in her car with a small sack of clothes for each of them and she headed the car north. It was the first time either Charlotte or Jerry had been in a car. At first Charlotte thought she might be sick from the motion, but soon she was too distracted by the scenery to think about being sick. Jerry fell asleep almost as soon as the car started moving. As they entered the city, Charlotte was astonished by the size of the buildings and the speed of the cars whizzing around her.

Eventually they stopped in a parking lot behind a long red brick building that adjoined a smaller structure, also made of red brick. Jerry was too overwhelmed and terrified to speak. The woman led them into the large building where another woman in very strange clothes greeted them and showed them into a small room with a table and chairs. Jerry sat on Charlotte's lap. The woman who brought them to that place sat next to her. A man in a suit came into the room with another woman who was carrying a pad of paper and a pen. She sat at a table in the corner and took notes. Charlotte understood intuitively the woman was transcribing the conversation.

The man asked, What are your names?

Charlotte and Jerry (Jerome) Jefferson.

What are your birth dates?

She hesitated. I'm not exactly sure about mine, sir. Jerry was born on December 5, 1950. I'm not sure when I was born, but I figger I'm about sixteen. Jerry was two when I came into my woman's ways. She blushed, and stopped.

The man made a note. You know about woman's ways?

Yes, sir. When I come into it, my ma gave me a calendar thing and she tole me to mark on it when I came into my time. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a grimey ten-year calendar that started in 1951. Charlotte had duly recorded her monthly cycles every month since.

The man looked at it for along time and said, Do you understand the things that can make a woman's ways stop?

You mean like when she comes into the family way?

Yes. Do you know how that happens?

Sort of.

Do you know the kinds of things men and women do to make babies.

Yes, sir.

How do you know about that?

She blushed, but something in her wanted to tell him the truth, so she said, Ma told me some of it. She told me about the kinds of ways men will act when they are itching to do it.

Have you ever done that?

Charlotte shook her head, No, sir. My ma was very stern about that. She kept me in the house. Once my oldest brother must of looked at me funny. I didn't see it, but Pa did. He beat Raymond so bad he couldn't get outta bed for several days. After that the boys all left me alone, and Raymond left altogether.

Tell me about your family.

Charlotte knew that if she gave the wrong answer to that question she would end up back on the farm, turned ass up in the barn with Pa laying into her with a belt. She looked at the woman who brought her there for a long time, hoping the lady would understand why she lied.

Well, you see, sir, we h'ain't got no family any more. The older boys left and we never heard from them since. A while back Ma left. That put Papa in a funk, but he still went to work. I don't know what he did exactly, but he'd go away for a while and then he'd come back after a few weeks. A while back, he left for work and he didn't come home. Whatever his job was I think it was dangerous 'cause he used to come home all cut up and bruised and stuff. When he didn't come home at all, I figured he was hurt bad or maybe killt. Me and Charlie kept Jerry at home until we run out of money and food. Then we took off. We ended up in this lady's garage and then Charlie took off, and me and Jerry have no place else to go, so this lady told me she thought we should come to this orf'nage.

She did not look at Jerry, because she had already threatened to thrash him if he opened his yap, and she knew he would mind. She did not look at the lady, either. She hoped the lady would keep her mouth shut, too. She should if she wanted to get rid of Charlotte and Jerry, but Charlotte held her breath for a long minute fearing the woman would contradict her. The lady did not say a word. The man made some notes. Then he excused himself.

Charlotte whispered softly to the lady, I'm sorry I tolt a story. I thought it would go down better than the truth with that man, and I don't dare ever go home. You understand?

The lady nodded and said, Yes. I think I do. I won't say anything.

The man came back a few minutes later and said to the lady, There are no birth records for any children named Jefferson in Gallia County. He looked at Charlotte. How many children are there in your family?

A total of five.

What are their names and ages?

I don't know their ages. The oldest was Raymond, then Lucas. They left home a while ago. Charlie was next. He was a year or so older than me. After me is Jerry here.

Charlotte held her breath, but the man seemed to buy her story.

They moved into the orphanage that day. Another lady in strange clothes took the children upstairs and directed Charlotte to the girls dormitory. Then she took Jerry to the boys dorm. Both children protested being separated, but the woman was insisted that was the rule.

That first evening, Charlotte went to the dining room with the rest of the girls. She asked if she could sit with her brother. The lady, who asked Charlotte to call her Sister, told her they would not be allowed to sit together at meals, but they could talk to each other during their free times during the day. Charlotte did not like that answer. She had hoped she and Jerry could stay together. Still, the place was clean and someone had told her they had a school there, so Jerry would be able to learn to read and write. She decided not to argue, at least as long as Jerry seemed okay with the situation.

When she finished eating dinner, instead of simply piling her dirty plate on the cart by the kitchen door, like the rest of the girls did, she carried it into the kitchen and said to the lady in charge, Thank you, ma'am. That was a very good meal. Do you want me to wash the dishes or dry 'em?

The cook looked at her oddly. The Proctor had followed Charlotte into the kitchen. She said, Charlotte, the residents do chores around the rest of the building, but as a general rule they do not help in the kitchen.

Charlotte looked as though she might cry, Oh, but, ma'am, I want to help in the kitchen! I'll wash all the dishes and dry 'em too if you want, but I need to help with the cooking.

Why?

Cooking is my most favorite thing. It is ... she blinked her eyes and cleared her throat, Well, I just like to cook, especially bread and pie crust and biscuits. I make great pancakes. If you ever have any eggs I can make a pretty good cake, too.

The Proctor said, I'll talk to Mother about having you assigned to help in the kitchen. Tonight you must be tired....

The cook interrupted, If it will make you feel at home here more quickly, dear, I'd love some help with the dishes.

The next morning, Charlotte walked into the kitchen at 5:00 a. m. The cook had just put on a pot of coffee and was pulling things out of the refrigerator to prepare for breakfast. Charlotte eyed the ingredients lined up on the counter. She understood immediately that pancakes were on the menu for breakfast. She took down a large mixing bowl for the dry ingredients, and a smaller one for the wet ingredients. She found a couple of measuring cups and a large pitcher. She asked, How many people'r we cookin' for?

The cook started, and bumped her head on a refrigerator shelf. She asked, What are you doing here, Charlotte?

Helping you fix breakfast, ma'am. I figger you're plannin' on pancakes. That's a lotta work to make pancakes for so many kids. Least I can do is help. How many we need to make?

The cook said, There are twenty children ranging in age from four to seventeen. We figure three large pancakes each. The little ones don't eat that much, but the bigger boys eat more. We also cook for fifteen sisters in the convent. Five of us work here. The others are teachers and nurses who work elsewhere. We make two pancakes each for them. She paused.

Charlotte clearly did some math in her head. Whoa! That's 90 pancakes. Big ones, you say. I usually make silver dollar pancakes, each one is a coupla tablespoons of batter. How much batter you use for a big pancake?

The cook said, A little over a quarter cup of batter per pancake.

Charlotte figured some more, and whistled. That's gonna take at least five maybe six of my regular recipe batches. I don't like to double pancake recipes because it never works right. You want me to use my recipe and just make a bunch of batches or you got a big crowd-sized recipe.

"Actually, we have a recipe that makes approximately 100 pancakes. Usually I make a few extra. Some of the sisters who work