Hope the Long Road Home

By Ellen Cox

Hope is the story of a young girl in the middle of discovery. She has the job of finding out who she really is, and on the way, she will discover many things. As with all stories there is never a straight line in her journey it takes her through the twist and turns of life. There are others on the same path with her, people who try to guide her and those who see potential in her. The setting is in the 1950's where things were simple. The way of life compared to our technically ridden world of today is slow paced. The one major thing that does remain the same is the search for love and acceptance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667828824

Book preview

Chapter 1

Hope

The first step off the bus was the same as the first step off the bus for the last four years. Hope's foot hit the gravel on the edge of the two-lane highway, her books were over her shoulder and her lunch bag was folded neatly in the first page of her history book. All the books looked alike in clean brown paper. She had spent 30 minutes that morning taping the edges down with scotch tape before making six lunches. It was her duty to make lunch for all of the foster children living in Mrs. Adam's house. To call it a home was to call a rabbit's fur mink. It was not much of a home, but foster care was better than living in an orphanage. It was supposed to help a person prepare for a real life. Yes, it was real life she was living. All summer there were farm chores to do, chickens to feed and gardening. Weeding, canning, pigs to slop, and very little time to do what girls like to do. Dress up, she was too old to remember ever playing with dolls and certainly to old now to think about childish pleasures. No daisy chains or lazy days. If she wasn't working, she was sleeping.

The only time she could get a bath was Saturday night. The girls took turns bathing in the same water before the boys were allowed in the house. It was not a hot relaxing bath, it was more like quick jump in the tub, run the soap on your face, down your neck, don't forget your ears. Everything scrubbed hard with a worn-out cloth and keep moving your hand till you got to your toes. Then just as quick get your hair wet by slouching down in the tub. Sometimes there was some Halo shampoo, but most of the time only a bar of soap. Run it over your hair and rinse. A pan from the kitchen was used for rinsing. One girl would fill it with fresh water and the other would dump it over the third girl's head. All the soap and hopefully dirty would flow off of your head. It was the only time Hope felt clean the entire week. Just as quickly she would get out of the tub and put on a clean nightgown. The next girl would climb in the tub and start the ritual of washing first her face and then her neck. No one dared stop or spend time talking. If they took more than twenty minutes, Mrs. Adam would be in there. Saying, Okay, you have wasted enough time, now on with you, out of here. The boys have waited long enough. I won't have you girls wastin' time like this. I've got three boys to wash and myself besides.

It takes too long to warm that much water. We'll be here all night bathin' and nobody'll get to bed a'fore nine o'clock. Get moving, get movin.

Mrs. Adam always insisted on changing the water between the girls’ baths and the boys’ baths. She said it wasn't 'fittin' for them to bath in the same water.

Suzy got soap in her eyes and began to cry; Hope quickly grabbed the pan and got some more water from the pump. It was so convenient to have the pump in the kitchen. Most people had pumps, but not all had them in the kitchen, and the wood stove was kept glowing with fire well banked with wood all year, even in the summer. The cold water seemed to ease the pain Suzy felt, she was ready to get out of the tub now. It was Jane's turn. Jane looked at the murky water and comforted herself with the thought that next week she would be first in the tub. There were minutes left before Mrs. Adam would be at the door with her whining voice saying, Let’s move faster girls you only have two minutes left. Since Jane had turned fourteen Mrs. Adam had stopped coming in to check them. She was sure they knew how to bath now and if they didn’t, she wasn't going to tell gown young ladies how too. Last week, Suzy nearly didn't get her hair rinsed because they were too slow. But, don't take more than twenty minutes. That was the rule. Twenty minutes divided three ways meant less than seven minutes apiece. It was a well-orchestrated trick to get three girls, fourteen, fifteen and almost sixteen bathed in twenty minutes. Exactly twenty minutes past six the girls began draining the tub. The next kettle of water was on the stove alone with it the largest pot in the house filled with boiling water.

Mrs. Adam entered the kitchen giving orders. Jane, get those towels up off the floor, Hope start pumping the water and Suzy take those dirty things to the laundry hamper. Suzy grabbed the dirty underwear and the socks; Jane put her towel around her stringy brown hair it looked like a turban. She was glad to be clean, well as clean as you could get at Mrs. Adam's house. The only time they took baths in the middle of the week was when the social worker was due. She always called Mrs. Adam to arrange for a visit. Mrs. Adam always made the visit for a day or two later in the week. It gave her time to get the children clean and to put out their special clothes. The ones she called their Sunday best. Only they didn't get wear them even on Sunday. On Sunday they wore clean clothes, but not their best. This way the community would give more clothes to them. Mrs. Adam always arrived home from church loaded down with clothes, but they only got to keep one or two items apiece and only after Mrs. Adam's own grown children had picked through the piles of clothing for their children.

Lately things had been harder for Hope and Suzy. It was hard not to be noticed at school. The whispers were too loud to miss, BO was one of the fateful words and grubby was another inescapable word. Sponge baths were hard to take with the boys always trying to get a peek and all of a sudden, she was almost sixteen. Oh, she had looked very womanly for a long time, two or three years in fact but the boys were now eleven, twelve and Jake was seventeen. If Jake had not been retarded, Mrs. Adam’s word for Jake, she would have had less patience with him. At seventeen he was now just a little more than curious. The boys Johnny and Ted had egged him on, and he was discovering things that his child like mind had never thought about. Where the boys got their ideas from was beyond Hope, but now the girls had to take turns staying awake all night to make sure Jake didn't get in their room. Mrs. Adam insisted that all the bedroom doors stay open, even hers. She could hear anything that happened at night. Or so she said, but the truth was she slept like a log and snored as loud as the crickets chirped.

The steps Hope and Suzy took were slow and deliberate. They were tired of it all; living at Mrs. Adam's was like living at the door of hell. There was no privacy whatever that was, and there were the three infantile boys and Mrs. Adam. Poor Jane was too young to understand the complex problems of older women. She was never included in their private world. At night they all three slept in the same room so she was part of the on guard unit. But she usually fell asleep before her two hours were up. So far, they had managed to scare Jake away and keep the other two fearful enough not to try anything again. That first night when she had awakened to find Jake standing over her and see the boys in the doorway was enough for Hope. She never felt safe again. The boys only giggled and went back to their room, but Jake just stood there. Even when she had said to leave he just stood there looking at her. She didn't like it. What if he did more than just stand there? What if he, oh the thoughts that ran through her mind. Hope had finally called out so loudly that Mrs. Adam awakened from her snoring.

She walked into the girls’ room and took Jake by the hand, Now Jake, are you sleep walking, come with me, I'll tuck you back in bed. You stay out of the girl’s room. If you need anything come to get me. I'll help you.

Mrs. Adam didn't have a clue. She was just sure Jake had wondered in there in his sleep. She knew he was retarded and because of that she always talked to him like he was four or five years old. She was kind to him. It was like her heart had two sides. Where Jake and the boys were concerned, they could do no wrong. They were her pets and her heart melted in their presence. But the girls on the other hand were considered lazy, no account, guilty, never proven innocent, and always trouble. Her heart was just as hard as a rock when she looked at them.

Hope had tested her theory. She had many times copied the exact behavior good or bad of the boys and found that the outcome was different for her.

Ted took Mrs. Adam flowers one afternoon, yellow field daises, and she cooed and praised him. She even gave him a kiss on the forehead. Three days later Hope took her the very same kind of daisies, and do you know what Mrs. Adam did? She said, Hope what do you expect me to do with these weeds? They aren't anything but weeds; do you want my hay fever to act up? Why the very idea of you bringin' these weeds in the house. Get rid of them right now. Do you hear me Hope? Get rid of them now!

One day Johnny went out to the chicken coop and broke three eggs. Mrs. Adam yelled at him and made him rake the chicken yard every day for a full week. But when Hope broke two eggs, not only did she get a hairbrush across the backsides of her legs, but Mrs. Adam also assigned her to permanent duty; you guessed it raking the chicken yard. That was two years ago and raking the chicken yard is still part of the daily routine.

There were other things too, she wasn't allowed to leave the farm; not on any day accept Sunday, and then only to church. Of course, she could go to school. For Hope this was the most painful irony. She could go to school, but she was dressed in the worst looking hand-me-downs in the world and her hair, even though she had cut it herself it never looked like any of the other girls. The boys like her, she could tell, but they never got real close to her. She made sure there was plenty of air between them and her. Oh they liked what they saw, but she didn't want them to get to close. The girls on the other hand were kind of cliquish and the ones not in the click, she and Suzy were friendly with Janice and the twins Sally and Beth. The five of them just kind of hung around school together. It was easy to see why. Janice was way overweight, and Beth and Sally were so homely that none of the boys or the girls wanted to be friends with them. There were some other girls who would smile at her like Helen. Helen was pretty and one of those people who spoke to everyone even Hope. She never shunned her. She was nice, but as far as Hope could remember Helen had never talked to her. She only said, Hi. How are you? and then kept on going. She usually had a group of people with her. It was rare to see Helen alone, but she gave you the impression that she would stop and talk if she could like a real friend. Like maybe she could find room in her group for you, but her friends would eat you alive. So, if, by chance things were different, well, anyway Hope always felt there was a chance popular Helen would be her friend if she didn't already have more friends than she could handle. It was a thought that played through Hope's mind every time she saw Helen, an idea that maybe someday Helen would be her friend. The teachers were all kind of distant. Hope had Mr. Mathias for Math. He was handsome and aloof. And she had Mrs. Smith for English and Social Studies. Mrs. Smith was someone she could speak to. Sometimes Hope wished for a real family and for a mother. When she imagined her family, she would always pick Mrs. Smith for her mother and Mr. Mathias for her father. She liked the way Mr. Mathias controlled the class and how he talked. No one in the whole world talked like he did. He was a Northerner and he rolled his R's. It was the way he said words like Arithmetic that fascinated Hope.

Mrs. Smith was so nice. She always said something kind. When Hope cut her hair, Mrs. Smith said it looked pretty and showed her natural curls so well. No one else even noticed. For Hope this was a reason to hold her head high and look people straight in the eyes.

The gravel under her feet made a noise as Hope moved one foot in front of the other. It was still another quarter of a mile to the front porch of Mrs. Adam's house. She wanted to run away, but where would she go. She tried it last year and was found within four hours. She said she had gotten confused about the direction home and then lost her way. Somehow, they, the police believed her. They thought she was dumb and slow. She just let them think that, but it was humiliating. All the way to the porch Hope thought about getting away, away to where? That was the problem. How could she get to a city? How could she make a plan with no real means of transportation? No real money. No real friends to help. It was going to kill her to live another year with things as there were.

Chapter 2

Now Mrs. Wilson, I want you to consider the challenges of raising children today.

What on earth do you mean? Grace, I have not only considered it I am rearing three boys of my own. You act like I'm some kind of a novice, why I have one who is a senior in high school and another who's a sophomore and a third in elementary school. I can't imagine you thinking I don't know the challenge of raising children this day and age.

What I mean is, said Grace, you don't know how hard it is with no money and with girls.

Mrs. Wilson, countered with, So you think girls are harder to rear than boys. Do you have any idea what is involved? Do you know how hard it is to keep milk in the refrigerator or to keep them in shoes and decent clothes? Why my grocery bill is the highest in the neighborhood. Mrs. Wilson wasn't exaggerating there. For years the grocer had added extra things that she didn't purchase and then given her the cash. This was the only way she could get extra spending money. Mr. Wilson was so tight with a dollar that it squeaked. This little trick had made Mr. Wilson complain and brag too, that he spent more for good food than any of his neighbors and he had the bills to prove it. His boost was that nothing was too good for his family. Why he would pay more to have more on his table than any man in the city if that is what it took to please his family. He was the consummate family man; a house in the city on a quiet street conveniently located near the best park in town, stores nearby, right on the bus line. You couldn't have it any nicer and a house at the ocean two blocks off the sea. It was the most spacious place with trees all around and screened porches around three sides of the house. No one could accuse him of not providing well for his family. Sandra had charge accounts in all of the important stores in town and a running tab at the grocery. It was the most any woman could hope for in the 1950's. She had all her need taken care of and the boys had as much or more than most boys could hope for. He had provided for the poor of the city too. Every year he gave scholarships to summer camps for the less fortunate. Why Mr. Wilson had been nominated for Outstanding Citizen three times. Just to be nominated was an honor. Too bad the others had been elected by only a slim margin. It was always some community service thing or other that had edged him out. Good enough to be nominated but, never quite outstanding enough to win. He boosted. A lean man with a beautiful well-kept wife and three sons. The trouble was the budget he kept for them. A budget that was so Spartan, that if someone lost a sock Sandra had to washout the same pair night after night to get through the week until her husband, George finally relented and allowed her to buy another pair. Her wardrobe was Spartan too. The predominant color black was because she could then add different accessories and made it appear that she had many more choices than she really had. There were other things, which appear on the surface to make them the envy of the city. His thriving business and her slim waistline all gave the appearance of success. But deep underneath there was a lack of love in their marriage that haunted Sandra. Not only the romance was gone but also the pretense was superficial. Oh he appeared in public to shower her with attention and adoration, but when it was just the five of them he belittled her and ranted and raved about her lack of organization, her lack of respect for him, and her inability to stay on target with the household budget. She was such a spend thrift on the thing she wanted.

Why Sandra you are totally unreasonable. You have absolutely no financial ability, sawdust for brains, and besides that you can't make a decent cup of coffee.

There it was he really didn't have the respect for her she deserved and if she had it to do all over again… Well people, good people just don't get divorces. Some of the things that had attracted her now repelled her. He was so charming when they met. He was twelve years older and behaved so manly next to the boys she had dated. He brought her flowers and swept her off her feet. It was as through violins had played and the great courtier had charged into her life on a white horse. Even before she could gather her wits, she was wearing his mother's diamond ring. And then as if a knife had been put through her heart Sandra own father said, No. You will not wed my Sandra! How had Daddy known? He had predicted a difficult marriage. What makes a man so perceptive about another man? Why had she defied her beloved father to marry this blustering old goat? He was pompous, argumentative, and had some mighty peculiar habits. It was hard to hide the truth from the world, and especially harder to hide these things from her boys, as they grew older and wiser. The marriage had been the biggest mistake of her life but, the boys oh for them she would survive anything. They were her life's blood. Had it not been for the fact that they all clung to the church this life would have been totally intolerable. The man was pompous and showy in a crowd and the church was one of his best stages. He could pray, oh could he pray in public, the tithed, probably to the penny, but that Sandra could never be sure of because the books always remained at the store. She had to tithe out of the household account and that was always a bone of contention. He was always fussing with her for not putting in the full tithe of her household account. He would make it up out of his own pocket when he counted the churches money. It made him so mad that he would often take the tithe before giving her the meager amount she was to budget on. No matter what she had done with that little bit of money it was never right in his eyes. It wasn't like she squandered it on make up or on a new scarf; heaven knows she sure couldn't have brought a dress with it. It was usually something like shoelaces for the boys’ school shoes or money for a field trip, also not in the budget. Those boys had to have some things that their father considered frivolous. God could understand. He wouldn't begrudge a pair of shoelaces, now would he?

But to George, that tenth was the most important outward sign of their Christianity. If he ever found out about the groceries it would blow the very roof off the house. This was her most closely guarded secret in all the world. Only one sister knew of the grocery store silver lining and that was for Sandra's protection from the grocer as well as from her husband in case he ever found out. She knew she could get Amy to back her up if she ever had to explain extra cash. Or if the grocer ever got any ideas of impropriety, she could call on Amy to set the record straight. Insurance was part of the plan.

So, Grace thought she was just a wealthy airhead, who didn't know the complexities of raising children. The thought played in her brain and the longer she dwelled on it the madder she got.

Grace, the Social Worker, who had seen everything, Grace the spinster who had no children, trying to tell her girls were harder to raise than boys. The very idea!

Why Grace, I think you are getting on to meddling now. You know it is hard to keep boys occupied and out of trouble. You know just keeping them clothed is a chore. And girls; the average girl today is pampered and pandered to by her father much more than any boy is. Sandra was mentally thinking as she spoke, if she had a girl, things would be different, why George would bend over backward for a girl. He would make sure she was the best-dressed young lady in the city. He would be sure she had Patent leather shoes for Sunday and school shoes and sandals for the summer. Oh, maybe she was an airhead or had brains of sawdust. He was who he was, and nothing could breathe life back into their family relationship. It was too late. A girl would only complicate things were the boys were concerned. Teenage boys could be a handful when girls were around and little Matt didn't like girls at all now, except his Mommy, but she wasn't a girl she was a Mommy.

Well I have a problem Sandra, there are two girls in foster care that I need to place in city homes. I can't leave them on the farm much longer. One of them tried to run away last year and I'm sure next time she tries it we will lose her.

Grace shifted in her seat to see how Mrs. Wilson was taking this hint. It boils down to this; I have to go out there and pick them up. They can stay in the Bonaire Home and go to school from there until I can place them. Sandra, I would love to bring them by to see you. Maybe you could give them some cookies and milk and kind of act as a friend of mine when I bring them to town so that they can see what kind of homes I'm trying to place them in before I take them out to the Bonaire Home.

Why Grace? Are these girls pregnant?

Oh no! At least not at the moment, but I'm not sure they are very moral. Having lived in an orphanage and then out on the farm, well I can't be too sure of them. But the best I can offer them right now is the Bonaire Home.

But Grace, you don't want them to stay there, they could really be corrupted.

It is the best I can do under the circumstances; I do have a home for the younger one that is if she passes inspection. Mrs. Joynes has said she will take a fifteen-year-old girl who is well mannered and who can help with the washing and ironing. I understand one of the girls is quite good with chores and I'm going to try to place Suzy with the Joynes'. Now the other girl Hope, she is going to be a problem. I just don't know what to do with her. She has been a trouble to Mrs. Adam ever since the beginning. She's not fit for much. Doesn't do as much work as Suzy and according to Mrs. Adam she's got an eye for the boys. I can't seem to get to the bottom of that. Anyway, I just would like to take them somewhere friendly before I get them settled. Do you think you could help me out with this Sandra?

I think I could, I know it will be a pleasure to entertain your young charges, spoke Sandra. All she could thing about was how terrible it must be to have to live at the home for unwed mother for a teenager who wasn't pregnant. This could create a stigma for life. No matter what happened to those girls that would remain on their records. The address...and people would think the worst. And what people think is far worst then the truth. How could Grace be so unconcerned, how could she think the girls would not run away from that situation too? Didn't she know how sensitive girls are? Oh, what a shame. There must be someone somewhere who could take that, Hope into their home.

I wonder if Mom has room. No, she's too sick to deal with a teenager now and Amy has babies and not enough room for them.

Grace, I must have a dozen friends who could take a girl that age. I know many families with girls. I'll start looking for a home for her right away. There just is not a reason she should stay in that place even one night.

Sandra, remember I told you she has a reputation and we can't hide that from anyone willing to take her in.

Very, well, I'll be very candid and careful as I search. Being PTA president gives me room to ask for volunteers first and to probe around the neighborhood without revealing too much information.

Thanks for your help Sandra. I knew I could depend on you, said Grace.

'Depend on you...' thought Sandra, 'the whole world depends on me, my sick mother, my sister Amy, my children, my husband, the dog, the neighbors, the church, and now the social worker. I must be the most dependable airhead, sawdust brain in town. Oh, for a quiet day with no laundry, no PTA, no house cleaning, no ironing, and no one depending on me.' As Sandra rounded the corner of the building, she noticed three teenage boys standing nearby smoking. Right here! This near the school, how dare they? she thought.

She yelled, Put out those cigarettes right now! Put them out they are bad for your health!

Quickly the boys dropped the cigarettes to the ground, and each stepped on a butt quickly almost in one single motion. As Sandra looked closer, she realized she recognized the boys. Two of her sons’ best friends Joe and Raymond and her very own son Jay.

Why, Jay Wilson! What on earth do you think you are doing?

Oh Mom, Jay was white as a sheet and had the most contrite look on his face possible. Before he could say another word, Mrs. Wilson had her hand on his collar and was dragging him away from the other two boys.

Now Jay, I'm shocked beyond belief. How could you? question Mrs. Wilson without releasing her grip on the neck of Jay’s shirt.

Mom, let go. It was a mistake; I just did it because the others were doing it. I won't do it again I promise, said a red-faced Jay.

I know you won't, said Mrs. Wilson, there won't be another chance for you to smoke again because you won't be allowed out for the next six weeks.

Jay was a fifteen-year-old sandy haired teenager who looked almost like a man, yet he very much like a young boy. He was so close to making a break from his Mother's grip that he almost pushed her away, but then thought better of it. It would be far simpler to be tugged by the collar for a block or so, than to be in trouble with Pop. Mom might be quick tempered about some things, but she soon let the momentum go down as she thought about things. It was only when she was challenged that she fought like a tiger. And that was the last thing Jay wanted at this minute. For his Mother to remain as mad as she was bad enough, but the way she was holding his shirt collar was painful and it wasn’t going away, his neck was getting numb; he could barely hear the lecture, but he was trying to focus on the words. He was humiliated and embarrassed by the situation. His Mother was dragging him by the shirt collar, shaking her finger at him; and yelling at the top of her lungs about the dangers of smoking and how difficult it would be to ever trust him again. Oh, the humiliation.

Mom, he finally shouted, please Mom, I'll be good. Mom I won't do it again, Mom I'm sorry.

Mrs. Wilson yelled back, "Sorry! Yes, you are sorry, and you are going to be the sorriest boy on the block when I finish with