A Place Called Forever

By Rita R. Trafford

Grace Brantley is a curious and imaginative six-year-old girl trying to cope with a divided and constantly changing family environment. The story follows Grace through a turbulent childhood where the only stabilizing elements to be found are her widowed grandmother and a devoted uncle. Grace finds comfort and safety in the few things she can relate to as constants in her life, such as the town where she lives, its inhabitants, and her ongoing fascination with the Ohio River and the mysteries it hides.

Graces intense need to hold on to certain relationships while allowing others to become less important, provide a glimpse into the mind of a child trying to find a quality of life that will allow her to understand values and set priorities.

The search takes Grace to places where no child should have to go, but it also reveals the true essence of life, which she finds, can at times be beautiful, but also cruel and demanding, even with the very young.

Without even realizing it, Grace finds through her continuous struggles to cope a resolve that is both enlightening and creative in spirit. Her self-confidence is brought about through the balance that is found in the understanding of not only people, but of nature itself. Her childlike faith in God, having been instilled in her early on by her grandmother, will provide the much-needed tension to maintain that balance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466948389

Rita R. Trafford

Rita R. Trafford has dealt with children in one venue or another for most of her life. She is the mother of four adult sons, a grandmother, and a great-grandmother. She has taught Sunday school, been a Cub Scout den mother, an AmeriCorps mentor, a teacher, and a librarian. She is at one with nature, loves her dog, Diamond, a rescue dog having suffered extreme abuse by a previous owner, and has written two chapbooks, numerous journals of poetry, and spiritual writings, some of which have been published in different publications. She was a member of the Indiana Poet’s Society for a number of years and had initiated a poetry club in her home and at a local library. Her love of children and having shared their curiosity of the natural world inspired numerous children’s stories and plays with themes centered on education and the aptitude to acquire self-esteem in the adult world. At the age of seventy-eight, Rita has completed this, her second book, and hopes to continue to contribute whatever talent she has to the world she knows. Rita and her husband, Robert, live on a farm in Northwestern Indiana.

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A Place Called

Forever

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Rita Trafford

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© Copyright 2012 Rita Trafford.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4837-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4836-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4838-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012913201

Trafford rev. 08/29/2012

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Contents

Acknowledgements

1

A Soldier Comes Home

2

The Magic Needle

3

River Fairies

4

The Bonding

5

School Daze

6

The River’s Song

7

Riding Out the Storm

8

The God Question

9

The House on Front Street

10

Meeting God in Illinois

11

A Redeeming Love

12

Dreams, a Place to Hide

13

Unseen Angels

14

Life Lessons

15

When Love is not Enough

16

A Family of Friends

17

Moon Pies and Soda Pop in Dirt Houses

18

The Undertow

19

A Promise to Keep

20

In Her Mother’s Keeping

21

A Struggle for Balance

Seeing the World Through the Eyes of Grace

A Synopsis

Excerpt from book two in series, The World Beneath the Sycamore

Acknowledgements

I wish to acknowledge first of all, the God in heaven who provided the inspiration to write this story, the courage to see it through, and the discernment to recognize that, to a child, nothing is considered as being insignificant.

To my husband, Bob, I want you to know how much I appreciated your enduring those lonely hours when you had to watch TV alone, while I spent countless hours on re-writes and editing. I also appreciated the support and willingness to do whatever needed to be done in order for me to have the time needed to accomplish this goal.

I also wish to extend my humble thanks to those friends and other members of my family who were always there to support me in this endeavor by making themselves available to me for proof reading, critiquing of the material and creating the cover and interior graphics.

Last, but not least, I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to a dear friend, Mr. Robert Gillan, now on his way to his Heavenly reward, for his gift of consideration and determination to see that this book was published. Mr. Gillan was a mentor, a teacher, a poet, and an accomplished artist. Among his many other talents, one which stood out far above the rest, was his ability to make you feel that there was nothing that you couldn’t accomplish, once you put your whole heart into it. He leaves behind this small part of his legacy as a memorial to his love and concern for any child living in a difficult situation.

". . . He leadeth me beside still waters . . . He restoreth my soul . . ."

Psalm 23:2-3

Holy Bible KJV

Forever%201%20Soldier.jpg

"Grace had seen her uncle’s army picture, but she had been so young when he left to go to the army that she couldn’t remember anything about him. She hung on to every word her grandmother said

about Abe."

1

A Soldier Comes Home

It was the early spring of 1945 and in the small southern Indiana town of Forever, life was preparing six-year-old Grace Brantley for a very special event. Her Uncle Abe was coming home from the war.

Grace’s parents had divorced before she was born. Grace was only three years old when her mother had decided to join the Coast Guard, and had left her with her grandmother, Mabel. Grace had lived with her grandmother ever since, and had only seen her mother several times in the past six years. Her grandmother’s husband, John, had worked for the railroad up until the time he was killed in a train accident, and so she received a small Widow’s Pension check each month. The Depression had left a lot of people out of work, and the government stepped in by offering each family a ration of food stamps. The check and the food stamps were all that kept them going, but Mabel knew how to make wise decisions when it came to money, and Grace never knew a time when there wasn’t enough food on the table. As far back as she could remember, her grandmother had always been the only family she had ever known. To Grace, she was both mother, and grandmother.

For the past several days, Grace had overheard her Grandma Mabel talking to the neighbors about her son, Abe, who would be coming home from the war soon. Grace had seen her uncle’s army picture, but she had been so young when he left to go to the army that she couldn’t remember anything about him. She hung on to every word her grandmother said about Abe. Sometimes, Grace would look at Abe’s army picture and try to imagine that he must be exactly what she would expect an uncle to be, kind, and strong, and special. She’d heard other kids talk about their Uncle Joe, or their Uncle Harry, so she had some idea what it would be like to have an uncle. Some kids had said that having an uncle was a lot like having a big brother. She knew too, that like other uncles, her uncle would be very special; especially to her.

Grace had awakened early on the Sunday morning that her Uncle Abe would be coming home. She could hardly wait to see him. She quickly finished her bowl of oatmeal and ran outside to sit on the front steps to watch for the soldier who would be there soon. As she sat there nervously twirling her dark braids around her fingers, she stared up the empty street towards the bus station. A sudden change of thought caused her to frown.

What if he didn’t remember her? She could have changed a lot in the three years he’d been gone. Abe wasn’t married. What if he didn’t even like kids?

Thoughts of the possibility of rejection tormented her.

Minutes seemed like hours until finally, Grace saw a man walking towards her from up the street. He was carrying a large bag over his shoulder. She shaded her eyes against the sunlight to see if he was wearing a uniform. As she stared at the approaching figure, she noticed he had a slight limp. Her grandmother hadn’t said anything about Abe being hurt in the war. At least, Grace couldn’t remember hearing anything about it.

As the man crossed the street she saw that he actually did have on a uniform. Feeling a sudden surge of excitement, she held her breath. As the soldier approached the house, a big smile crossed his face. Suddenly, he dropped his huge duffle bag, knelt on one knee, and opened his arms wide. Grace ran as fast as she could, her long braids flying behind her, and buried her face in his chest. As she looked up into his sparkling blue eyes and sensed the warmth in them, she knew that her uncle was absolutely the most special of all uncles. She knew that he had not forgotten her.

It’s really good to be home, Gracie, said Abe. He picked her up in one arm and slung the duffel over his other shoulder. Now, let’s go see your grandma.

The first few months following Abe’s coming home was a wonderful time for Grace. Now, there were two very special people in her family; her Grandma Mabel and her Uncle Abe. Two was good. She hadn’t given a whole lot of thought to her mother not being around, and hadn’t asked a lot of questions about her absence; even though her grandmother had mentioned once that she wasn’t in the Guard, anymore. Just like it had been with her Uncle Abe, Grace had only her mother’s Coast Guard picture to relate to. When she had asked about her father and why he wasn’t around, her grandmother had merely raised her eyebrows, looked up at the ceiling, and said that such hard questions required hard answers that children wouldn’t understand anyway, so they were unnecessary to begin with. Her grandmother had once said, The thing about not asking hard questions was a rule put there to keep things running smooth.

Grace had been taught early on that acceptance was what life was all about; even though it meant having people come and go in her life without explanation. She had stopped asking the questions, and merely accepted her grandmother’s answers since, as she had said, It just makes life a lot less complicated for everybody.

Grace had been born in Forever, and had only been outside the city limits twice in her whole six years. Once, was when her grandmother had taken her on the train to a town in Illinois when she was planning to visit a friend; the second time was when they had taken the ferry across the river to Kentucky. Grace couldn’t remember why they had went to Kentucky, but she remembered the ferry ride and how being out on the river had felt like she was standing on a cloud floating across the sky.

Forever wasn’t a big town by any means, but what made it special to Grace was the fact that it sat on the banks of the beautiful Ohio River. The river was what made the town special to a lot of people. Forever’s citizens were, for the most part, farmers and mill workers who seemed more than content to live the simple life of a rural community. When folks talked about how it was in the old days, the town’s early history was one of being a place where the early pioneers traveling up and down the river, could find refuge from enemy and inclement weather alike. It was a place where friendship and a warm welcome by the town’s people gave it prominence as a good place to trade, while also providing a respite from whatever ailed the weary traveler. One could almost believe that Forever’s people had intentionally stepped aside, and let time and progress pass them by, except for its two mills, a few small factories, and several stores, which gave it sustenance.

There were more taverns than churches in Forever, but those wanting to worship the Lord pitched up their tents just about anywhere they wanted to and held what they called Revivals. Anyone and everyone was welcome to go and hear the preacher and the good singing. Folks usually congregated at the river’s edge after the Revivals to let the preacher baptize those who wanted to be baptized; in the way he said was right and proper, by dipping them into the big river. Grace and her grandmother had attended some of the Revivals, but neither of them had ever been baptized. Grace wondered if anybody had ever drowned while they were being baptized.

For Grace, Forever meant stability. It meant that she could depend on some things always being the same; like the Five & Dime store with its six big candy jars lined up on the counter, always full to the brim with hard candies and licorice sticks. And then, there was Miller’s Supermarket, where her grandmother cashed her Railroad Pension Widow’s check, and traded stamps for food and the yellow powder she put in the white butter.

When the dew hung heavy in the fall, one could always count on the smell of steamed corn coming from the Hominy Mill, which sat on the river’s edge at the south end of Main Street. Grace’s grandmother had once shown her a picture of a man standing in front of the mill, wearing a white cap. She told her that it was a picture of her dad. Her grandmother said everybody who worked at the mill had to wear a white cap when they were working. Forever had a lot of people who wore white caps most of the time. Grace just figured they wanted people to know where they worked.

As Grace had peered into the eyes of the man in the picture, she had felt that it was like looking into her own eyes whenever she looked in the mirror. She could see the same dark hair curled under the brim of the white cap, but it was his smile that held her gaze the longest. It was like her Uncle Abe’s smile the day he had came home from the army; happy. Grace had hoped that wherever her father was, he was still happy.

The town’s City Park, with its two separate rows of long steps curving around the playground, offered an unobstructed view of the boat dock and the river. On the other side of the river, Kentucky’s sandbars were spread out for miles. During the summer, one could see camp fires, strung out like Christmas tree lights, up and down the sandbars. And if the wind was blowing just right, you could even hear people talking and laughing as they gathered around the fires.

Like the Five & Dime and Miller’s Supermarket, the city park was a place where folks often gathered to discuss current events (if there were any). Since Grace lived just a block away from the park, she made it the highlight of her day (providing the weather was decent) to go and play on the playground, and listen to what the folks were talking about. Most of the time, depending upon the season, it was either farming, or who had caught the biggest fish. As she played nearby, Grace could hear the stories that some folks called fish tales. They usually made her laugh when everybody else laughed. According to old man Shepherd, the biggest catfish in the Ohio River was still out there, somewhere in the big water, and he was just out there poking fun at all those fishermen who were determined to catch him.

Then, there were those times when Grace would just sit on the steps and gaze out across the river, allowing her imagination to move along with the current rushing downriver to worlds unknown, while she entertained questions such as, what was around the bend of the river as it swept around Kentucky’s sandbars and the sloping banks of the Indiana shore, only to eventually hide itself in a haze of sunlight?

The river had always been an important part of Grace’s life for as long as she could remember. For Grace, the river was more than just a river. It was a gathering place where the townsfolk would go and fellowship with one another; its park, a place where families could visit while watching their children play for hours on end, or for some, just a place to do nothing but stare out across the river’s wide expanse to the opposite shores of Kentucky. The river was one of the most comforting things Grace could think of; that is, next to sitting on her grandmother’s lap while being wrapped up in a quilt, on a cold winter night. The Ohio was always there; moving yet staying, unwilling to leave the banks of Forever.

Grace didn’t understand why she felt the way she did about the river. She just accepted the feeling as being the way one was supposed to feel about rivers; especially, if you lived near one. She felt that the river must be just about as important to the other people who gathered there, since practically everybody in Forever went down to the river at one time or another during the day. Some went to sit and visit with whoever was there at the time; others just to sit and watch the heavy barges go by; while still others fished from the bank, or in boats offshore.

The park was more to Grace than just a favorite place to go. It was like having your very own carnival with its swings and slides, and the merry-go-round. You just didn’t have to wait all year to enjoy it like you did the real carnival, which came to town in the fall. Grace always felt that when she played in the park, the river was out there watching over her. The scent of the water filled her nostrils like the scent of the mill filled the town. Sometimes she could still smell the river-water long after she had left the park. She had mentioned this once to her grandmother. Her grandmother had simply laughed, and said that it wasn’t a strange thing for her to be able to do that. Then she told Grace how, when she was born, they had lived on Water Street, which ran right alongside the river, and how the back of the house was raised up on stilts so that when the river flooded, the water wouldn’t get into the house.

The month you were born, baby, she had said, the Ohio flooded so bad that its water was slappin’ at the floorboards under the back of the house, right under the bed where you were born. Why, that river water was the first thing you smelled when you came into this world. Yes sir! It almost seemed like that river was wantin’ to baptize you the minute you were born, baby.

For some strange reason, that explanation had seemed to give Grace a bond with the river that she hoped could never be broken. It made her feel safe to think that the river had been there, watching over her from the very minute she was born. Grace didn’t think it was a strange thing to love a river. It was as easy as loving her grandmother’s hugs and kisses, and her Uncle Abe’s warm smile; all