Lines in the Sand: The Story Of A Family Secret Carefully Guarded for Over Twenty Years.

By Ron Parvu

It's all about keeping a family secret. When a newborn is adopted, her cousins are sworn to secrecy about her identity. When she becomes an adult, a serious health problem blows the lid off the family secret. She's forced to cross a line in the sand and soon discovers who her real cousins are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543903133

Book preview

there.

Prologue

Sooner or later, everybody is forced to cross a line in the sand.

At some time in our life, like it or not, we have to deal with life’s fickle, unforeseen occurrences…and cross that line. If we are fortunate, it’s generally a minor crossing made with little or no repercussions. Nevertheless, it is unavoidable. Many people in young Winnie Harlis’ life were no different. They were forced to make major decisions which would affect them deeply in one way or another.

No woman ever born possessed a stronger desire to be a mother,  other than Winnie Harlis. Only one problem existed. Regardless of all her many well-planned conjugal efforts, she was unable to conceive. The missing description in her pitiful existence was ‘mother’. On a day when she least expected it to happen, World War Two and the Normandy Invasion intervened in her young life, and ironically made it possible for her to obtain a baby, a baby to call her own.

Before the baby was born, took its first breath of life, or lived for one second outside the womb of a woman she would never know, she was adopted by a loving, childless couple; Winnie Harlis and her husband, Bud Carpetti.

Siblings and cousins sometimes have conflicted feelings over a new arrival to the family. On-one-hand, they know babies are to be loved and welcomed warmly into the fold. On-the-other-hand, it can be quite a challenge to their already established familial arrangement. Being a boy or a girl can either upset the balance of numbers; or balance out the numbers. Whichever way the delicate balance shifts, one thing is certain…it will shift.

When Patty was introduced into the lineup of grandchildren, it gave granddaughters, who were, up to that point non-existent, an opportunity to curb the monopoly reigned over by grandsons. However three young boy cousins welcomed her into their midst with open arms. At their young ages, none of them realized of course that she was adopted. She mysteriously appeared on the scene one day as they all had. They were still too young to ask the inevitable questions: "Where do babies come from? Where did she come from?" Indeed, where did she come from?

Many years passed, and a health condition arose in Patty’s life, making it imperative that she know more about the medical histories of her birth mother and father. If it were not for the critical need-to-know situation, she would never have asked for such details. Once she discovered the family secret about her life and her adopted parents, decisions would most assuredly have to be made. Lines drawn in the sand would have to be crossed by both mother and child.

Would Winnie feel differently about Patty if she had to share her with another woman? Would Patty still look at her adopted mother, Winnie, in the same way if her birth mother was unexpectedly thrust into her life by an unforeseen set of circumstances? Would their lives be changed forever?

There was only one way to find out the answers to those kinds of heart-tormenting questions, and it was lying right before them as…

Lines in the sand.

Chapter 1

Bud and Winnie tried their best to conceive; repeatedly, at every opportunity but to no avail. Ironically, there are couples who produce babies like rabbits without any special effort, in spite of the fact that they never wanted kids in the first place. Winnie was not of that sort. Her arms longingly ached for her own child to hold, and nourish, and fuss over. She sat alone for endless hours in the park, and watched how happy, young mothers interacted with their little children. On those days, she felt her grieving heart yearn for the one thing she wanted more than anything else in the world; her own baby. Little did she know at the time that giving birth to her own child was something she would never experience; it simply would never happen.

Winnie got her nickname from her oldest nephew, Paul. When he was a toddler, he could not pronounce her real name, Winifred, so he simply called her ‘Aunt Winnie’. As a result, ‘Aunt Winnie’, is what she was dubbed by her nieces, nephews, even other adult family members, for the rest of her life.

Winifred -- Aunt Winnie -- Harlis was born in the mountainous, rugged and nearly uncharted, backroad-region of Kentucky; a product of good, solid country people. Ironically the women were very fertile and spent most of their younger years barefoot and pregnant. However, in the early1920’s Kentucky was poor, and the people even poorer. Her dad, James Harlis, wanted a better life for his brood, so he moved the family north to Ohio to find work and, hopefully, a more advantageous environment in which to raise them. His youngsters consisted of three girls: Winnie, her older sister Chloe, and a younger sister Jenny. All three were very attractive; a fact not overlooked by the young men in their new Ohio neighborhood. Winnie’s long, auburn hair was enhanced by her fair freckles, and like her mother’s, sprinkled generously over her entire body. Her dad always teased her saying, If those freckles ever get together, you’ll have a heck of a suntan.

Winnie flashed a winning smile and made friends easily. Her love for children was cultivated early in life by babysitting for neighbors. One of the youngsters, Cynthia, was her favorite. She was a bright, precocious child with curly blond hair and could have easily been mistaken for the child movie star, Shirley Temple. Winnie played with her for hours, and never considered the time she spent with Cynthia a chore. Cynthia’s favorite pastime was to imagine herself a beautiful ballerina, and Winnie lovingly obliged her fantasy. Cynthia would pirouette and Winnie played the role of an appreciative audience of one.

Cynthia loved the times when she knew Winnie was coming over to babysit. And, she cried pitifully when it was time for Winnie to leave. This was Winnie’s heartfelt effect on children, and they on her. Winnie always dreamed of having her own children; her own family, some day. ‘Some day’ would never happen for Winnie -- anyhow, not the way she wanted it to happen.

Whenever a country goes to war, its citizens must learn to make sacrifices. In 1940, the United States found itself becoming embroiled in a world war of epic proportions for the second time in just over twenty years. Once again, its patriotic citizens were asked to ‘suck it up’ and do their share for the war effort.

Winnie graduated from high school the same year, and immediately went into the work force, working hard through those war years. Women were asked to step in and perform the sometimes strenuous tasks usually reserved for men. Times were tough on everybody. She and her older sister Chloe helped their parents support the Harlis family of five. Younger sister Jenny, barely a teenager, stayed home and managed the household duties of a grown woman while the three girls’ parents worked extra-long hours in the local rubber sweatshops.

Akron, Ohio has been referred to by different nicknames over the years: ‘Tire Town’, ‘Tire City’, ‘Rubber Capitol of the World’. A rose is still a rose…Regardless of what it was called, it all meant the same thing: jobs, hard dirty work, and money; all in that order.

The city was divided, geographically, by the three major rubber companies into neighborhoods based upon where the workers lived: Goodyear, on the east side, had Goodyear Heights, i.e. ‘East Akron’; Goodrich, near downtown, had housing around the center of the city; and Firestone, on the south side, had Firestone Park; this area was also known as ‘South Akron’. A favorite joke was to tell someone you were from ‘L.A.’ -- Lower Akron.

James Harlis soon discovered that living conditions in any one of these poorer sections was not much better than what he and his family experienced down south in Kentucky before moving north. In contrast, at least people in Akron had jobs, some dignity, and could feed their hungry families. However, on the flip side of the coin, people who lived in Kentucky had pure, clean, mountain air. In those days, people found themselves having to choose between enough food to eat or clean air. Ohio or Kentucky.

Akron, Ohio had the ubiquitous, undeniable smell of rubber. The wafting odor of the city’s air could easily be detected for miles, and overwhelm a person at times. When the weather forecast called for rain, strangers, who drove towards the city from any direction, knew immediately when they were getting near the great, tire-manufacturing factories. If they did not smell the odiferous air, at times they could see it. On those overcast days, the factories would release, what looked like enormous amounts of black carbon in the form of life-choking smoke, which billowed up from inside the gigantic, brick smoke stacks and into the air. The black smoke was blown over huge areas, and quickly knocked to the earth by the predicted showers of heavy rain. Many neighborhoods around the factories ended up being covered with an oily film that locals referred to as the infamous ‘black plague’. Once released, nothing ever escaped the falling microscopic particles of soot. Housewives scurried to bring in their freshly-washed laundry, hanging out on the clothes lines, under ominous, dark-grey skies. On many Mondays, which were traditional washing days in the neighborhood, young Jenny raced to get her mother’s laundry indoors before they were ruined by a deluge of the falling black plague.

During those war years, it was not unusual for women to marry young, because their husbands were soon drafted and shipped out to fight on some foreign shore. Sadly, many of those men failed to return home. Instead, they left behind a part of themselves; babies they would never know, never see, never have the opportunity to hear them say the word ‘daddy’. However, this was not the case with Winnie and Bud.

Winnie met Bud Carpetti about a year after she graduated from high school. She knew of him while they were in school, but never gave him a second thought. She was a transplant from the south, and his family was from, god only knows where, in Sicily. At the time, she was dating another paisano, who lived next door to her family. Winnie was, by nature, attracted to dark macho types. But as high school romances and relationships so often turn out, she and the boyfriend next door, eventually drifted apart. The ongoing war did not help matters of the heart either.

Winnie and Bud had mutual friends who were more than willing to introduce her to Bud; to fill what they thought was a dating void in her hard-working life, but she had her doubts. Bud had a certain, roguish aura about him, that exuded the typical Sicilian image -- picture a young, cocky John Fonzie Travolta. He was thin, muscular, had black curly hair, a Roman nose, wore smart clothes, cool shoes, smoked Lucky Strikes, and possessed an attitude to go along with all seven traits. He also had a penchant for saying nasty things in Italian to girls he definitely wanted to impress -- or embarrass. No question about it; he was the cock-of-the-walk in ‘Little Italy’ and let everyone know it.

Bud learned from Winnie’s friends what days she would be taking the bus home from work. One day, he ‘just happened’ to be walking near her bus stop when she arrived. Starting a conversation with a girl, from scratch, was never a problem with Bud. It was as easy as pushing a doorbell, and he pushed many, many doorbells in his young life.

Ironically, Bud had his own button that could easily be pushed. If Bud Carpetti had a sensitive weakness, it was his name. At birth, he was named, Benito Andrea Carpetti. In 1939, during the early years of the war, having a name like Benito, or Adolf, or Heinrich, was definitely not a popular name to have in high school. Instead of Benito, he insisted that people call him ‘Bud’. Anyone calling him by his given name, Benito, would most certainly feel his genetic wrath, immediately; nothing boiled his Sicilian blood more quickly. The only exception was Father Marconi, his parish priest. Father Marconi called ‘Bud’ by his preferred nickname because he was aware of Bud’s feelings about his given name. However, when occasions called for it, Father Marconi, in his stern priestly way, never failed to call him Benito. As a result, Benito -- ‘Bud’-- always knew when he was in trouble with the priest.

It was on a warm Sunday morning after Mass, Bud heard somebody, with the stern voice of a person in higher authority, shout his name.

Benito Carpetti! It was like a call out of heaven from God. He did not even have to turn around to see who it was; he instantly knew. Father Marconi. However, not turning around would have meant even larger, more tragic consequences.

Turning around slowly to face the priest, Bud smiled like a little kid, who was just caught by his mom with his hands in the cookie jar. Father Marconi. I’m so glad you noticed that I attended Mass today.

I see everybody who attends Mass, Benito. I know who misses Mass too. I hope I did not impose on your valuable time of fun and games. May we talk for a few minutes?

For you, Father, anytime, were the words that came out of his mouth, but, Now what? is what popped into his troublesome mind. He could not begin to imagine what Father Marconi wanted to speak with him about this time. There were so many reasons on the priest’s list.

Looking Benito squarely in the eyes, the priest pointedly asked him, I understand you have set your roving eyes on a young lady by the name of ‘Winnie Harlis’. Is that so?

So what if I do? There ain’t no law against that, he thought. Bud’s eyes quickly shifted from left to right, then back again. A sure sign to the priest that a person -- in this case Bud -- was about to avoid telling the truth.

Bud stalled for time, trying to think of what the priest possibly could want to know. Why do you ask?

Don’t try to beat around the bush and try to play games with me, Benito. Either you do, or you don’t.

Okay, yeah, we were like, introduced once, Bud shyly admitted.

Father Marconi scowled. For you, that’s all it would take.

Bud was silent because he knew Father Marconi always heard about his sexual encounters since his first confession. Father Marconi was aware of every girl he ever scored. It was no use to try and dodge the question any longer.

Yes, I like her -- a lot, he said, with his voice barely audible.

"So it’s true then, what I heard. Do you know