An Orphan’s Tale: A Novel

By Valerie Miller

As Maryanne grows up during the 1940s in Philadelphia, life is far from ordinary. When she is just five years old, her mother passes away. After Maryanne’s father proves to be incapable of caring for her and her siblings, she moves in and out of multiple foster homes, eventually landing in an orphanage for the duration of her childhood and adolescence.

Throughout life’s ups and downs, Maryanne learns to keep herself grounded, to never give up, and know in her heart that life has a way of taking the worst and making the best. Sadly, Maryanne never realizes the true meaning of family—until she meets her brother’s friend, William. But will Maryanne somehow find the courage to continue onward—even after losing everything—and overcome her obstacles to begin a new chapter?

In this poignant young adult novel, an orphan embarks on a coming-of-age journey where she must find a way to persevere through her challenges to realize happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781532091520

Valerie Miller

Valerie Miller was born in Philadephia, Pennsylvania. After graduating from college in 2014 she began working for the Philadelphia Phillies first as an intern and later as a full time employee. Today, she resides with her family in Cinnaminson, New Jersey. An Orphan’s Tale: Part II is the second installment of her first novel, An Orphan’s Tale. 7.11.22 Valerie Miller was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. After graduating from college in 2014, she began working for the Philadelphia Phillies as an intern and later as a full-time employee. Today, she resides with her family in Cinnaminson, New Jersey. An Orphan’s Tale: Part Two is her second book.

Book preview

An

Orphan’s

Tale

A Novel

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VALERIE MILLER

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AN ORPHAN’S TALE

A NOVEL

Copyright © 2020 Valerie Miller.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-9151-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-9152-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020901109

iUniverse rev. date: 02/12/2020

Contents

Part I    Early Years

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part II    Rocky Road

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

PART I

Early Years

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Chapter 1

Sometimes it’s best to just start at the beginning. In my case, my story began on a crisp, cool autumn morning on October 1, 1935. I obviously don’t remember being born. Nobody does. But I’ve played out the scene in my mind’s eye many times over the many years of my long and sometimes difficult life. I imagined how excited my brother, Jimmy, was, and I am sure my mom was relieved to finally have given birth.

Look here, Jimmy. That’s your new baby sister, said Frank, our dad, as he pointed to the little baby wrapped in blankets. Jimmy, in his plain red shirt, with jeans and little sneakers, stood in awe, looking at his new little sister, whom he would help nurture, care for, and love. However, too young to realize his new responsibilities as a big brother at three years old, he simply stood silently, looking around, and thought to himself, A friend named Maryanne!

Yes, my birthday must’ve been a happy day for our little family. But things changed rapidly after that. My dad fell deeper and deeper into the bottle, and he regularly fought with my mom. It was, after all, the height of the Great Depression. Times were tough all over. My mother, the more responsible of the two, would try to talk sense into him. I was little at the time, so I don’t have too many memories of the two of them and their arguments, but Jimmy was at the age where he understood there was a dilemma within our family.

On more than one occasion, Jimmy remembered our dad coming home dead drunk. Frank would stagger up the front walk of our little two-story house and proceed to fall flat on his face, with our mom, Catherine, looking on in disgust.

Oh my … Frank … are you okay?

What does it f——ing look like?

Come on. Let’s get you inside and clean you up.

The scene would play out in predictable form each time. He would fall down face-first, hurt himself, and then get mad.

What the hell took you so long? he’d shout.

Catherine would help Frank into the house and sit him down at the kitchen table.

I had to put down the baby and check on Jimmy, Catherine said as she went to the small powder room down the hall from the kitchen to grab some disinfectant cream and a small Band-Aid.

She returned and cleaned up the blood on Frank’s face, then put the Band-Aid on, only to have him tear it off in a fit of rage.

I can’t go around looking like this! he yelled. It looks terrible.

It’s only until the cut heals.

No. I’m not wearing it.

Catherine was used to his little rants. Sometimes she’d get worked up herself, while other times she wasn’t in any mood to argue with his preposterous tactics.

I’m going to head up to bed, Frank. Long day. You should come to bed too.

Here you go again. Always trying to control me. Well, listen to me. I’m going out.

Where do you plan to go at this hour in the evening?

There’s always one place that’s open, and that’s where I’ll go.

Frank turned around, stumbled over the chair, and made his way to the front door. He opened it with the amount of force he used to slam it shut.

At a loss for what to do at this point, I imagined how Catherine must have made her way upstairs and headed to the bedroom, only to go back downstairs to eat. She’d complained about stomach pains for a while, but she wrote them off as hunger. Food wasn’t plentiful in our home, not during the Great Depression with a father who drank all the money away. When she finished eating, she felt better but still a little off. She disregarded it and continued upstairs to prepare for bed, knowing full well that Dad would be back. He always came back.

By the time morning arrived, the day’s sun was peeking through the sides of the closed shades in the master bedroom. Catherine awoke feeling ill. She reached over to feel for Frank and discovered that he wasn’t there.

He’s probably downstairs somewhere, passed out. Catherine went downstairs to look for Frank, and when she saw he wasn’t home yet, her heart sank. She thought back to the most recent argument. He’d come home drunk yet again, and she’d confronted him. Frank, she’d said, you’re drunk again. You’re spending money we don’t have.

My mother worked at Hardwick and Magee, a rug mill in Philly, while my father worked in a mill that primarily dealt with dyes. The dyeing mill closed, and my father was out of work while my mother went on furlough. Hardwick and Magee placed its employees in a temporary nonduty, nonpay status due to the economic crisis. People in Philadelphia suffered dramatically, with thousands going hungry. Some people turned to begging, theft, and scavenging. Makeshift homeless camps popped up throughout the city, the most along the Schuylkill River, below the art museum. Fortunately, my parents, Jimmy, and I did not have to take these drastic measures. However, my family did have its struggles along the way.

As Catherine hesitated in the kitchen, her mind spinning with anxiety and confusion at the fact that Frank hadn’t come home, she thought back to that most recent argument, playing it over in her mind.

I’m spending money? Frank screamed. What do you suppose you’re doin’ every day? Huh?

Catherine had had enough of his combative ways. She turned on her heel to leave the room, afraid she might say something she would soon regret. Just as she reached for the doorway, a plate flew past her head and splintered against the wall. Catherine looked down at the floor; there were shards of glass everywhere. Only then did she turn toward Frank. She watched him stand in place, heaving, his face red, sweat glistening on his forehead, and that vein bulging out of his neck.

Frank … what … why …? It was all Catherine could force herself to say. She bent down on her knees to begin picking up the glass pieces scattered over the floor. Frank grunted his way out of the room with a snarl as he passed her.

I … you made me throw that. You’re lucky I missed. That plate would have hit you in the back …

It was always the same old story for Catherine. Every day was a struggle, and Frank didn’t make things any easier.

Frank, you know I needed a new coat; my old one was torn all down the side, and I used it for the entire winter last year, Catherine had said, not quite as angrily as Frank but on the cusp of her breaking point.

Fine. Go ahead and keep nagging me then. It’s all me, all my fault and doing. You always take the easy way out.

"Frank, it’s your spending that has us in a financial setback. You’re unbelievable right now."

As usual, the argument lasted for several minutes. Then Frank left to continue drinking at the local bar he frequented. Catherine walked over to the window to watch him clumsily walk across the front lawn, back over to the walkway, down the steps, and out into the street. Frank, ignoring any sort of oncoming traffic, continued to stagger down the street to the bar. After reliving those memories Catherine sighed and went back upstairs.

Sleep didn’t come. As Catherine lay in bed, she wanted nothing more than to shake those memories from her head. She only allowed herself the ability to do so when she sat up, set her feet on the floor, and walked across the room toward the door. She grabbed her light-purple nightgown hanging on the rack and enveloped herself in its warmth.

The minute Catherine opened the bedroom door to go downstairs, she could hear me waking up down the hall. Of course, this is all a big guess, because I was just a baby, but it probably went the way I have imagined it.

Catherine entered the nursery, noting that I was fully awake. She went to the crib and picked me up. Once Catherine had me in her arms, she checked down the hall to make sure Jimmy’s door was closed, which meant he was still sleeping. Since it was the weekend, he did not need to be up for school—the preschool that Catherine insisted Jimmy attend, despite Frank’s opposition. As Catherine made her way down the hall toward the stairs, she could already see what looked like a foot protruding out toward the bottom of the stairs, the rest of the body out of sight until she walked down some steps. There he was. Passed out again, right on the floor in the middle of the living room. Catherine walked over to the door to see if he had even locked it. Good. At least he had some sense to close and lock the door. Deciding to leave him there, Catherine would talk with him when he awoke, no matter his state.

Catherine sighed, shook her head, and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. Resigned to the confrontation that would soon come, she went about her business—cleaning the house, sweeping the front stoop, and taking a minute or two to read the paper. While she was reading, she heard Frank groan. She went to him, gently shook him, and said, We have to talk, Frank. Right now.

He groaned again, got up, and stalked into the kitchen without acknowledging her. She followed him into the kitchen and then sat down at the kitchen table with her coffee. Frank poured himself some coffee and sat down across from her.

Talk about what? he asked.

By the end of the talk, Frank calmly stated, This family is my life, and I have to make more of an attempt to show you all that. So from here on out, I fully intend to devote myself as a father and husband.

Interestingly enough, Frank stuck to his word. Day in and day out, to the best of our knowledge, he remained sober. Catherine was elated because this meant he was around to help raise the kids. It wasn’t until a year later, in 1936, that he insisted on expanding the family.

Catherine, I want to have another baby.

Frank, Catherine started, taken aback by his wishful request, I think we should wait a little before we have another mouth to feed. Let’s take it one day at a time and go from there.

I don’t mean right now. You had Maryanne, but I think another one sooner than later would help me and my particular circumstances. We’ve got to try. Look, Catherine. I know money is tight. Certain things have happened and are happening that we didn’t exactly hope and plan for. But that’s life. I feel that another baby is another opportunity to strengthen this family. Besides, another little one is perfect for Jimmy and Maryanne.

Catherine could tell that Frank was trying to better himself, for his own sake and the family. But having a baby to fix a family, or in Frank’s case, his alcoholism, didn’t make sense to Catherine. Having a baby should be a mutual decision between both husband and wife, the two of them, a way of sharing their love for each other. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for another so soon. She preferred to give it some time and see where life took the four of them.

After discussing it with Frank, he consented to give it some time and agreed that having a baby wasn’t going to save or fix anything. Catherine was able to communicate this point exceptionally, without any sort of trouble.

Catherine and Frank went upstairs together. For one of the first times in a while… life was headed. They went upstairs together, and for one of the first times in a while, the two of them seemed truly content with the direction in which life was headed.

The days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into one year. Then two years. By the time 1937 arrived, my family had welcomed the newest addition to the family. Baby Kate had arrived. Jimmy was four years old, and I was two years old and no longer the baby of the family. Kate had been welcomed with open arms, and we were ready for another playmate. Our father called to share the news with Jimmy and me, saying, Hey there! Your mom had a girl! You have another little sister!

Disappointed, Jimmy hung up the phone on our father, not saying one word. Aunt Florence, my mother’s sister, had been watching Jimmy and me while our parents were at the hospital. She went to take the phone from Jimmy to talk with Dad, and there was no one on the other end.

Jimmy, she said, did you hang up on your father?

He replied, I wanted a brother.

As all kids do, he got over it and was excited when