A Child Called Hope

By Pat Allen Kaplon

Hope, a thin, tow-headed child with sad hazel eyes, stands barefooted in a dusty farm lane, watching the horse-drawn wagon take her mother away. Her beloved Momma has died a senseless death, and Hope must face life without her guidance and love.

Pop, completely broken by his young wife, Lucy’s, sudden death, turns more and more to the bottle to ease his pain. Hope’s baby sister, Nollie, is taken away by relatives, and Hope sees her world being destroyed.

From the hard scrabble farm in Appalachia where she was born, through homes of relatives and a foster home, to the coal towns of Western Maryland, Hope seeks to fi nd someone to love her, a home of her own, and a way to come to grips with the loss of Momma, the center of her young world. Follow Hope as she follows the fascinating journey to find happiness and closure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456870904

Pat Allen Kaplon

Abou the Author: Pat Allen Kaplon was born in Maryland. She also lived in Maine and Callao, VA before settling in Madison, VA, where she has lived for the past twenty years. She now makes her home in Malvern of Madison with her husband of 53 years, Don, and their two dogs. The Kaplons have two children and four grandchildren. Ms. Kaplon is an avid reader of prose and poetry and writes in both mediums. Her poetry has won awards in both Maine and Virginia. A long-time teacher, Ms. Kaplon has a keen interest in and love of children which inspired her newest book, Betsy's Choice. About the Illustrator: Jessie Lewis received her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree from James Madison University in Harrisonburg, VA. She grew up in the rural community of Graves Mill in Madison, VA. She now lives with her husband, daughter, and cat in Greene County, VA. Jessie has received recognition for several of her artistic pieces, including winning the state competition for her fiber piece in the Daughters of the American Revolution Heritage Contest in Virginia. Currently, Jessie is pursuing her Masters degree in Mental Health Counseling and hopes to use the healing properties of art in her therapy career.

Book preview

A Child

Called Hope

Pat Allen Kaplon

Copyright © 2011 by Pat Allen Kaplon.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011902537

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4568-7089-8

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4568-7088-1

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4568-7090-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

93790

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Tweny-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-six

HOPE’S POEMS

DEDICATION

To all the motherless children of the world—

—may they find someone to care for them.

"I had always wanted my mother—always felt

cheated by life that I didn’t have her.

I longed for her, dreamed of her, wished for her, and prayed for her.

But, she was never there.

SHE WAS DEAD FOR AS LONG AS I COULD REMEMBER."

—Hope

Chapter One

Standing at our farmhouse gate, my fists clenched and tears running down my face, I watched the hearse, drawn by four black horses, slowly making its way down the dusty country road. The hearse was deep purple with black side curtains, and was carrying my mother away. I wanted desperately to run after it and beg Momma to come back to me. Inside, I was crying and scared, but I just stood there, quite still, as she was slowly taken away.

People all around me were quietly getting into their cars, trucks, or wagons to follow my mother’s body to the graveyard for the burying. I felt desperate—I knew I couldn’t bear to watch them put Momma down into the dark, cold ground. I turned and ran blindly into the old apple orchard that grew behind our house, hoping that nobody would notice that I was gone.

It was spring, and the blossoming trees formed a fairyland all around me. I looked up at the pink and white clouds of apple blossoms and thought, Maybe Heaven is like this. I started to talk to God up there, begging Him to please send my Momma back to me. But, in my heart, I knew that could never be, and I started to sob hopelessly. How could God be so cruel that He would take my Momma away from me? How could He let Momma get sick and die like that when we needed her so?

Suddenly, I hated God and everybody—and everything. I was angry, and I felt guilty about it and all mixed up inside. Had I done something so bad that God had decided to take Momma? I stayed in the orchard for the longest time, until I heard the cars, filled with mourners, pulling back into the yard. I walked slowly back to the house, and went in through the back door. People were bustling around, setting out the food that all the relatives, friends, and neighbors expected to share after the funeral, but I felt only cold and emptiness around me. My oldest sister, Emma, was already taking over as woman of the house, telling the ladies where to put the dishes of food they had brought, chasing the little ones out to play, and generally rushing around. She was carrying Nollie, the baby, on her hip, and her eyes were all swollen and red from crying over Momma.

I wandered back outside, looking for some sign of Pop, but I couldn’t see him around anywhere. My two little brothers, Will and Ben, were sitting on the back stoop, Ben’s dark head pressed close to Will’s blond one, whispering to each other. They looked sneaky and scared, and I wondered what they were up to.

Hey, you two, I scolded, what are you doing out here all by yourselves?

They looked up at me, wide-eyed and startled. Then, I asked them if they had seen Pop anywhere around, because people were asking where he was. Ben answered me in a real scared voice, Hope, guess what. We was a’sittin’ here on the stoop when Pop came a’runnin’ around the side of the house, a’yellin’ at the top of his voice.

He had a bottle of whiskey and his gun, Will added.

Yeah, from Ben, he jumped on old Betsy and took off down the road. He was a’yellin’ that old Doc Parker had killed Momma!

He’s a’gonna shoot old Doc if he finds him, Will schreeched. That’s what he was a’hollerin’ anyhow!

I knew how Pop felt—I hated old Doc Parker, too, ever since the night before Momma died. Doc had come to see Momma that night—Pop had sent Emma to fetch him. Momma had a real bad stomach ache, and she kept throwing up a lot. Right after supper, Momma said she just had to go lay down for a while. Pop and us kids knew she would never do that unless she was really sick, so we got real scared and worried. Pop trusted that old Doc would be able to help her. After Doc looked at Momma, he said she just had a bad case of the flu. He told her to stay in bed and she’d feel much better by morning. He gave her some kind of peppermint stuff to settle her stomach, but she just couldn’t even keep it down. She suffered something terrible all night long. From my bedroom, I could hear her low moaning and Pop’s soft words as he tried to comfort her. Shhh, Lucy. Shhh, hon, you’ll be okay soon. Doc said you’ll be better in a little bit. Toward morning, I got real scared, because I could hear Pop crying and begging God to please make Momma get better. By daylight, she was gone. Now, Pop was out to get old Doc.

I knew Pop’s temper, especially when he was drinking, so I was half sick with fear and worry. But, I didn’t tell anybody about it, and I warned the boys not to say anything either. I hoped Pop was just bluffing and that he would come home soon without even finding old Doc. I didn’t want to start a big fuss on the day of Momma’s funeral, so all afternoon I tried to act like nothing was wrong. Around suppertime, people started getting ready for the long ride home. Emma finally missed Pop because he was not around to say goodbye to our neighbors and friends. Ben, she called, have you seen Pop around? He’s got to say goodbye and thank all the folks who came to pay their respects to Momma. Hope, do you know where Pop’s got to? I wasn’t going to say anything to tattle on Pop, but Ben got scared and blurted out the whole story. Emma was furious with us for not telling her sooner.

If Pop gets old Doc, it will be all your faults, she yelled at us. Why on earth didn’t you all tell someone? Do you want Pop to get put in jail? Hope, you above all should’ve had better sense, she shouted, her red hair flying and her eyes snapping angrily.

She ran out to the gate and looked anxiously up and down the road, but there was no one in sight except the last of the neighbors heading home. Well, there’s nothing much we can do about it now but wait, she stated. She turned slowly and went back into the house to clean up. Ben and Will had to go out back to the barn to do their chores, so I stayed out by the gate and waited for Pop to come home.

Just as I was about to give up and go on into the house, old Betsy, our plowhorse, came staggering into the front yard, all lathered up and plumb worn out. Pop was draped over her back, drunk as a lord, with no gun in sight. Ben and Will came running from the barn, dragged Pop down off Betsy’s back, and hauled him up to his and Momma’s bedroom. Emma ran behind them, fussing and scolding, but I could tell she was just glad Pop had come back home and that he hadn’t been able to get old Doc Parker.

Later that night, I sneaked up the stairs and looked in through Pop and Momma’s bedroom door. Pop was lying sprawled across the bed, and he looked like a lonely and beaten old man. It scared me to see him like that. I just knew he must be missing Momma something awful. I went on to bed, knowing I’d get no comfort from my daddy this night. There in my own room alone, I wanted to talk to Momma and tell her about what Pop had tried to do. I tried to picture her up in Heaven, listening to me. Don’t be too hard on Pop, Momma, I whispered, he only did it because he loves you and misses you so much. I’ll try to watch out for him more since you can’t do it anymore. Then, I drifted off to sleep, comforted by the thought that Momma was, indeed, up in Heaven, and that she could hear my thoughts.

1.jpg

Hope when her mother died

2.jpg

The children Lucy left behind-Hope, Nollie, Will, Ben, and (back row), Emma with Aunt Sally, Uncle Bill and Pop

Chapter Two

The next morning was bright, sunny, and warm. I could hear the chickens clucking in the yard and smell the apple blossoms on the breeze coming through the window. It seemed like the rest of the world didn’t even know that Momma was gone, or didn’t care anyhow. I went downstairs and we all pitched in to help get breakfast ready. Emma was bossing everybody around, telling us to wash up, set the table, and sit down to eat. I just wished Momma were there to do the telling. Pop came in from the barn, and, without a word to any of us, sat down at his place at the head of the table. He didn’t start eating right away like usual, just sat there looking at Emma like he didn’t know what she was up to, taking over Momma’s chores like that. Emma asked, Pop, are you going to be working on the back fences today? I can fix you a lunch to take with you if you are. Pop didn’t even answer her—just sat there, looking at his plate, quietlike. I thought I could smell whiskey, but I didn’t let on. I just passed Pop the pancakes and tried to go on eating, although every bite seemed to stick in my throat. Ben and Will finished up fast and ran on outside. They couldn’t take Pop’s being so quiet and all. Besides, they had said earlier that they wanted to get their chores over with so they could go fishing down at the creek. Emma didn’t scold them for rushing through their meals like she usually did. She just let them go.

Little Nollie started to cry hungrily, so Emma had to get up to go feed her. Nollie was only nine months old, a cheerful baby that we all petted and played with. Her blond curls and big grey eyes made her a favorite of the whole family. We all argued over who got to feed her or hold her while she fell asleep. Momma always said, You kids better enjoy little Nollie a whole lot, because she’s gonna be the last baby in this family! We all just laughed and didn’t really believe Momma when she said that. Now, Nollie really would be our last baby—and she didn’t even have a momma to take care of her anymore. Emma was scared to death about having to take complete care of Nollie now, but she was determined to do her best. She took the warm bottle from the kettle and sat down in Momma’s rocker to feed her and try to get her to take her morning nap.

Just as Emma got Nollie to stop crying, we heard our Uncle Bill’s truck pull up in the front yard. We could hear Aunt Sally, sounding very determined, as she started up the steps to the front porch. Aunt Sally was a large, bosomy woman, with dark hair, rosey cheeks, and a busy-body personality. She was known all over town as a take charge kind of woman, and that’s exactly what she intended to do.

Now, Bill, she was almost shouting as she hurried through the front door, you know we’ve got to help poor John out some. There’s just no way he can take care of all these younguns, especially the baby, Nollie. We don’t have chick nor child to take care of, and it’s our Christian duty to help him out some. Oh, howdy John. We just came by to see if you needed any help taking care of little Nollie and the rest of the kids. Nollie’s gonna need a whole lot of care, and I just know Lucy would’ve wanted me to be the one to take care of her for you. Besides, Emma’s got enough to do just tryin’ to take care of you and the rest of the family.

Uncle Bill, a small, quiet man, stood behind Aunt Sally, embarrassed by her words. Of course, we wouldn’t think of takin’ her unless you wanted us to, John. We could give her a good home, and we’d love her as our own. Sally’s always wanted a little one to take care of. What do you think of the idea, John? he asked, looking uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Pop just sat there, staring at his plate. He didn’t even seem to see or hear Aunt Sally and Uncle Bill. I wanted to scream at him and tell him not to let them take our little sister away, but I was tongue-tied with fear. Emma said softly, Pop, do you know what Aunt Sally’s sayin’? She wants to take Nollie home with her and Uncle Bill, to live with them. Pop?

Pop finally looked up, his eyes full of hurt—I guess it would be for the best, Emma. Let Sally and Bill take her along with them. Go on and get her things ready. She needs lots of motherin’ now, and I just can’t—can’t—. Pop put his hands over his face and just sat there like he couldn’t bear to see what was happening to his family. I had to fight hard to hold back my tears. I couldn’t believe that my Pop was just going to sit there and let Aunt Sally and Uncle Bill take our baby sister away from us.

Aunt Sally bustled around, gathering up little Nollie and all her clothes and things. I’ll come back for her crib, toys and such later, Emma, she puffed, out of breath from all her exertions. Nollie was smiling and gurgling happily. She had no idea what was happening to her or where she was going. I just wanted to snatch her from Aunt Sally and run away with her, but I didn’t dare.

Don’t you worry none, John. We’ll take real good care of Nollie, and any time you all want to see her, why you just come on over for a nice visit, Uncle Bill offered. "We’ll be sure to bring her by to see