THIS IS EDEN?: A Historical Novel

By Nancy Radcliffe

THIS IS EDEN? is a historical fiction about the life of Hattie and John Burley and their six strong-willed children in the early twentieth century. As it begins they are living in a two story wooden structure in Chicago. John is a bit of a dreamer who works for a dairy but feels led to pastor a church. He sees his opportunity in the Chicago Tribune: The Soo Line Railroad advertises land he can afford in north/central Wisconsin. He packs up his family and all their worldly possessions and sends them off to begin settling the land without him.
Hattie is a strong, principled woman. She is resourceful, thrifty, and a devoted mother. She needs all her resources to survive the many difficulties she faces in the primitive wilds of Wisconsin in 1913.
The story shows how the love of land and the struggles to keep it forms in a person and grows in ones heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665530194

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© 2021 Nancy Radcliffe. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/24/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-3020-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-3019-4 (e)

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.

Bible quotes are taken from the King James Version.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

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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.

Contents

Chapter 1     The Day that Changed Everything

Chapter 2     The Long Walk

Chapter 3     So This Is Home

Chapter 4     The Making of a Home

Chapter 5     First Year Alone

Chapter 6     A Sad Good-Bye

Chapter 7     John’s Letter

Chapter 8     Hattie Swallows Her Pride

Chapter 9     Ebba Starts School

Chapter 10   James and Lovey

Chapter 11   Now What?

Chapter 12   The Last Summer

CHAPTER 1

The Day that Changed

Everything

There are events in all our lives that cause life to take a turn either for the better or the worse. We seldom realize the importance of those events when they are happening. Not until many years later do we look back on it and say, Ah! That is when everything changed. March 4, 1913, was such a day for the Burley family, but Hattie did not realize it at the time.

On that fateful day in March, Hattie, her husband, John, and their six children, aged two to sixteen, were crammed into the top flat of one of those two-story gray wooden structures on the near northwest side of Chicago—a tenement really. It was Hattie’s opinion that they lived in a fire trap in the middle of a soot-filled, evil-filled, disease-filled city.

Hattie Burley’s day started like any other day: up at three in the morning to build up the fire in the kitchen stove and start the big pot of oatmeal for the family. Then she mixed coffee grounds with an egg and filled the big enamel coffee pot with water and set it on the stove to boil. This was her famous Swedish egg coffee. She took a lunch pail out of the ice box and handed it to John, who nodded his thank you and silently stepped out the kitchen door and down the two flights of open wooden stairs into the dark, murky predawn. He walked through the alley, scaring a rat that was having breakfast in an overflowing garbage can. Then he walked the two blocks to the streetcar. He wore the uniform of the Bowman Dairy Company. He was a milkman and had to hitch up his team of horses and be ready to deliver milk by four.

Hattie set water on the stove to heat for the wash and slipped back into bed to keep warm while it heated. She had had a rough night because the baby was sick.

By eight o’clock, Hattie’s four older children had left for school. She sat Paul, their five-year-old son, at the big kitchen table to copy his letters. His tousled blond head was bent over his work, his tongue clamped firmly between his teeth. He was a smart one, always trying to mimic his two older brothers. Too smart for his own good was Hattie’s thought. It was hard to keep him busy, and when he wasn’t busy, there was trouble.

She scrubbed the daily wash in the big tub of hot sudsy water, rinsed it in cold, and squeezed out the water with the hand ringer. Today was a bit warm for March. She noticed that the piles of black, icy slush were melting. Hattie decided to hang the wash on the line that ran from the porch railing to the pole attached to the shed in the backyard rather than climb up into the small attic in the peak of the building to hang it where she’d been hanging it all winter. Clothes always smelled so fresh when hung outside to dry.

When she came back into the kitchen, she warmed her rough, red hands by the heat of the stove. The stove was kept burning because it heated the kitchen and back bedroom. A kerosene stove heated the living room and front bedroom. As the oldest child, Earl had the job of hauling the heavy can of kerosene that fueled that stove up the three flights of stairs from the basement. Lately, he had been unable to do it, so Hattie had added that to her many duties. She disliked the job because it made her hands and clothes smell of kerosene.

Baby Elizabeth, just two in February, was feverish and fussy with a nasty cold. She cried all the time Hattie was hanging up wash. Now she cried that pitiful hoarse cry and reached pleadingly for Hattie to pick her up. Hattie obliged and offered her oatmeal, but she refused even a bite of it. Elizabeth was frail and tended to get colds and high fevers often.

Hattie made a small income sewing women’s clothes. On this day, Elizabeth took a long nap because of that nasty cold, so Hattie was able to sew for hours. Perhaps she could even finish the Gibson Girl skirt and blouse she was working on. It was for Mrs. Brunswick, a friend of John’s boss’s wife. She looked up from her prized treadle sewing machine to notice it was three o’clock. It surprised her that so much time had slipped by and the baby was still asleep.

And what was Paul up to? She had not heard a peep from him in hours. She looked for him through the doorway that led into the living room, which also served as the boy’s bedroom. What mischief is Paul into now? she wondered. She knew quiet from that rascal meant he was getting into trouble. She had risked it. He had been quiet and not under foot for once, and now she prayed that meant he was busy in a good pursuit.

Hattie stood and stretched her tall, lean body, which was still well shaped in her forty-fourth year. She walked with heavy steps across the creaking kitchen floor toward the bedroom that she, John, and the baby shared. She was tired. Poor Elizabeth had been up half the night. It’s good she is having a long nap. Of course, Hattie was up half the night trying to comfort Elizabeth, but that comes with motherhood. She peeked into the dark, cramped room. There was only a tight passageway between the bed, dresser, and crib. The shade was pulled halfway up, letting in a dim light. She could see the red brick building of the next-door neighbor just four feet from the window.

The baby’s stuffy breathing filled the silence. Still asleep. Good. She needs her rest, and maybe I can get just a bit more done before the others come home from school, she mumbled.

Hattie realized Elizabeth’s pitiful crying in the night had bothered the Beckmanns who lived downstairs. She knew the walls in the old building were paper thin, and sounds traveled easily from floor to floor. The Beckmanns had used a broom handle or something to pound on their ceiling, registering their unhappiness. They were just trying to sleep, and the crying child had kept them awake. Then a scowl crossed Hattie’s face. That is just too bad! The poor child was suffering. Hattie just couldn’t help herself. The scowl turned to a mischievous smile at the memory of how often she had been tempted to do the same to them. But John wouldn’t allow it. She worked herself into a righteous indignation thinking of how often she had been kept awake by those heathens shouting at each other at all hours of the night—and doing God knows what!

Looking up at the ceiling, she said, I know, God. You’ve commanded me to love my neighbors. Well I do! I just don’t like them very much. God had placed her and John in this godforsaken place for a reason, but she still didn’t know what in God’s name that reason was.

Hattie went back to her sewing. She was pleased with how the skirt looked, and thankful for her loyal customers. She was getting a reputation with the wealthy friends of John’s boss’s wife for her good workmanship. The money was piling up a bit. She kept some of the money she earned from the sewing business—well, maybe more than some—in a Mason jar in the back of the pantry. This too was a sin, and she knew it. She shouldn’t hide money from John. But, Lord, every time she and John were able to save for emergencies, John would come home with a sad story of someone who needed it more than they did. Then out the door went their savings.

Even after two years, resentment slipped into her heart when she thought about how John had given the beautiful layette