Purling Road - The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-10

by M. L. Gardner

  He shoved his chair back and angrily poured a cup of coffee while Ava looked on. He stood at the sink, staring out the window at the storm. It looked like it might be calming down. Or maybe he wanted to believe that. Of all the days to have a blizzard. If it wasn't for the storm, he'd be bundled up in the Tourer right now, on his way to the orphanage to get some answers. As it was, he had no choice but to wait it out.

  By nightfall the storm was blowing its last gasp. Jonathan had lived through enough of them to know that it would be safe to drive by morning. He felt the pull to go to work, the worry of missing another day and the urge to find out what ended up of Jeffrey.

  He was jerked from his hard concentrated glare at the tabletop by Ava's hand in his peripheral vision.

  He looked at the green bills between her fingers and up at her.

  "I've saved what I could over the last few weeks. With the extra income from David working with you it wasn't so hard. Go find your brother. We'll be fine."

  He smiled and didn't reach for the money, but for her, pulling her onto his lap.

  "I think sometimes you can read my mind."

  "I can," she said, grinning. "So be careful what you think."

  He kissed her, thanked her and silently held her on his lap until it grew very late.

  ***

  The next day, after informing Caleb and Aryl that he would be gone, but giving no reason as to why, Jonathan gassed up the Tourer. It was about forty miles to Boston and he hoped the windowless beast wouldn't give him any trouble along the way. And that he wouldn't freeze to death. It might be wiser to take the train, but if he needed to go anywhere else while in town, he'd need transportation. After all, the orphanage was only where Jonathan and Margaret dropped Jeffrey off and where Jonathan would begin to look. He was grown now and surely no longer a resident.

  In his thinking and rationalizing, Jonathan missed the fact that the tank was full and gas began spilling out around the nozzle onto the ground. He shut if off quickly as he grumbled and cursed at the wasted gallon and extra dime. Taking a moment to wipe off his shoes-there was nothing to do for the gas splatter on his pants-he set out for Boston.

  ***

  The orphanage was a four story red brick building with the windows neatly lined up in rows. Though it was in the heart of the city, it looked clean enough from the outside. Small faces quickly filled the first floor windows, staring at the man coming up the walk.

  He wondered how they could do it. His parents. How they could make this very same drive and carry their child up these stairs and hand him over.

  He pulled at one of the large double doors and found it locked. He frowned. Was that to keep people out or keep the children inside? He glanced over his shoulder. This close to a busy street it was probably best to keep the doors locked. Children wander.

  He knocked. After a moment a woman in a black uniform opened the door. She was short and frail with a plain face and mousy brown hair pulled into a bun. She had the look of a nun. She smiled and it surprised Jonathan.

  "Can I help you?"

  He hadn't realized until that moment that he had no idea what he'd say when he got here. How he'd present his problem. He started with the papers.

  "I'm looking for my brother," he said, pulling the papers out of his jacket pocket.

  "Your brother? How old is he?" Small shy faces began to gather around the woman's legs, peering at Jonathan from the safety of her skirt.

  "By now, about thirty-two."

  Her eyes popped. "Well, I'm afraid he wouldn't be here."

  "I realize that. He was brought here in 1901. I was hoping there might be some record of where he went."

  "Perhaps it's best if you speak with our director."

  "I'd appreciate that. I'm Jonathan Garrett," he said, stepping inside.

  "My name is Anne," she said, struggling to close the door with the children attached to her legs even tighter now that the stranger was inside.

  The foyer was a large open area with a wide staircase to the right. Several children sat and squatted behind the railing half way up. Another gaggle of three or four skirted away giggling while a half dozen came flooding out of different rooms to see what the excitement was about.

  One small boy with a mop of blond hair and round blue eyes walked right up to Jonathan. He craned his neck, looked into his eyes and spoke without fear.

  "Are you here to find a son?" he asked.

  Jonathan blinked, unsure what to say.

  "I'd be a good son. I can do chores and hard work and I don't eat too much." The child shoved his hands in tattered pockets and waited for a decision. Jonathan stared, dumb.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Garrett," Anne said, turning the young boy away by the shoulders. "Some of the children have been waiting a long time for a family and have taken to marketing themselves. The milkman has been propositioned by at least ten of them."

  Jonathan tried to smile, watching the boy walk away. He glanced over his shoulder before he went through a dark oak archway and disappeared.

  "If you'll follow me, our director's office is just this way."

  She led him through a growing sea of children, each more heartbreaking than the next. They were clean enough, though their clothes needed attention. If the economic downturn was evident anywhere, it was here. As they passed a door, Jonathan heard coughing and hacking from the other side.

  Anne put her hand on his back to urge him along.

  "That's our sick ward," she explained. "Don't hang about outside for too long."

  "What are they sick with?" he asked.

  "Tuberculosis, mainly. I'm afraid we've had somewhat of an outbreak in recent weeks." Suddenly Jonathan was nervous and didn't want to touch anything. He had children of his own to think about and tuberculosis was nothing to toy with.

  "I'll let Mr. Everly know you're here." Anne left him standing in the hallway with several bug eyed, snot nosed children staring up at him. He wished he had some candy to give them, though he couldn't usually afford candy for his own children. He looked from one to the next and tried to smile. It was all so heartbreaking. He knew that if he held out his arms, any one of them would have gladly jumped into them. Behind him, more wrenching coughs echoed from behind closed doors.

  He wondered what it was like for Jeffrey to have grown up here. It looked more like the home of a millionaire fallen on hard times than a home for children. It seemed to him that it should be bright and airy with painted walls, small furniture, some toys and books. Maybe music in the background.

  If I were still rich...he thought, aching for money in that moment more than in any other.

  Anne touched his arm and invited him in.

  Jonathan sat down across from Mr. Everly, a bald portly man, at least sixty years old with a big smile.

  "Anne tells me that you are looking for your brother?" he asked. His high pitched feminine voice didn't fit his profile.

  "I am," Jonathan said, holding out the paper. "His name was...is Jeffrey Garrett. He was brought here in 1901."

  Mr. Everly adjusted his spectacles and read over the paper. He pulled them off slowly, thinking.

  "I might remember this boy," he said quietly, tapping his finger, not looking entirely sure. "If memory serves, he was one of the last cripples we took in."

  "Cripple?"

  "Well, we use that term for any child with impairment," he explained. "Right around 1902 or was it 1903...we began to send the cripples to the Massachusetts Asylum for Feeble Minds and Lunatics up the road. Our doctor only comes once a month, you see and there, well, the children have access to doctors around the clock. Of course they closed the children's wing a few years back."

  Jonathan's first thought was horror. How could they send a child to a place like that? He prayed that Jeffrey hadn't ended up there. But if he had, Jonathan realized, he knew someone there who could help him further his search. David.

  "Can you tell me where Jeffrey ended up? The orphanage has to keep records of this kind of thing."
<
br />   "Oh, we do, we do," Mr. Everly said, nodding deeply. "If you'll follow me down to the basement, we'll see what we can find."

  "I appreciate it," Jonathan said as he stood.

  "It always brings me joy to see a reuniting. They are so rare. I'd be happy to help," he said as he waddled ahead.

  The basement was dark and dank with no electric light. They lit candles, several of them, and placed them about on tables and stacks of furniture. It resembled a medieval dungeon, smelled musty and Jonathan couldn't help but wrinkle his nose as Mr. Everly opened file cabinet after file cabinet, squinting and mumbling to himself.

  Jonathan looked at the files dating back decades. All those children. Every one of them alone in the world. It was hard to think about. And he wasn't thinking when he blurted out, "What does it take to adopt a child from this place?"

  Mr. Everly came up so fast he nearly hit his head on the corner of the open file drawer.

  "Are you considering adoption, sir?" he asked, delighted.

  "I...don't know. I was just wondering what was involved."

  "Legal paperwork. An interview and a small fee, though we've been waiving those lately in light of the extent of the hard times. Are you married?"

  "Yes, but maybe I'm getting ahead of myself," Jonathan said, grinning self-consciously. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't, his mind wrestled as Mr. Everly went back on the hunt. The idea made sense to him. His parents left one here, perhaps he should take one from this place in order to make things right.

  His train of thought stopped when he thought of Ava. What would she think of adopting? It didn't mean they couldn't have more of their own, but should they make more children with so many little faces already here and pleading for families? Around and around he went in his mind, debating adoption, debating whether to ever bring it up to Ava. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be standing in this cold basement, holding a candle up for light, debating taking a small stranger home and calling him his. The little blond boy, so matter of fact, so determined to find a home that he abandoned all pride and even offered to eat as little as possible in exchange for a family. Jonathan's heart wrenched.

  "Aha, here we go," Mr. Everly stood up, a little winded, clutching a file.

  "Jeffrey Garrett." He set it down on the table and opened it. His eyes and finger scanned page after page of the documentation of Jeffrey's life.

  "What was his diagnosis?" Jonathan asked, peering over his plump shoulder.

  "Simple retardation," Mr. Everly said.

  "Simple?" Jonathan asked.

  "As in, there were no medical complications. His heart, lungs and other organs were just fine. All of Jeffrey's problems lay in an ill-developed brain."

  "Ah," Jonathan said, nodding. That made the chance of Jeffrey still being alive even greater.

  "It appears..." Mr. Everly trailed off, extending the moment so long it was painful for Jonathan. "Jeffrey was adopted in 1915, when he was a teenager."

  "Really? Does it say by whom?" Jonathan squeezed in, rubbing shoulders with Mr. Everly to get a better look.

  "It does, but the ink is a bit faded. Why don't we take this back to my office where we can see better, shall we?"

  Jonathan nodded and began blowing out the candles, save the one he was holding and led the way up the stairs.

  They emerged to a terrible racket of children playing and laughing. Anne stood in the middle of a large empty room, probably the parlor when this was a real home, blindfolded and reaching for children as they darted about. Jonathan could only see her smile, but it was large and genuine and that made him feel a little better.

  Mr. Everly sat down at his desk; Jonathan stood behind him, reading over his shoulder.

  "Yes, right here. Adopted by a Mr. and Mrs. Hucklebee. They owned a meat shop on the east side of Boston. If I'm not mistaken, Hucklebee's Meats is still open." He glanced up, tapping his finger again, trying to remember.

  "Is there an address?" Jonathan asked, anxious to be on his way.

  "Right here," he said, pointing. "They lived above the shop at the time."

  Jonathan swiped a pen from Mr. Everly's desk, pulled out the original paperwork and scribbled the name and address on the back of the paper.

  "I suppose you'll be off now to find your brother?" Mr. Everly asked.

  "I hope to find him," Jonathan said and extended his hand. "Thank you so much for your help."

  "You are quite welcome. As I said, I enjoy reunions. Please do stop by and let me know how it goes, would you? And should you decide on adopting yourself, well..." He glanced around the office. "You know where to find us."

  "I will, thank you. I'll see myself out."

  He passed all the same children as he walked down the hall and this time smiled at them. The bold, blond boy stood off by himself, staring at Jonathan, not angry, not hopeful, just staring. Jonathan met his eyes, nodded and left.

  Once on the streets of Boston he got thoroughly lost in his excitement. Never did he expect it to go this quickly, this smoothly. He'd barely held a breath of hope that Jeffrey was even alive, much less just across town. He pulled into a gas station and when the attendant came running out, he seemed disappointed when all Jonathan asked for was directions.

  "You're nearly there. Two blocks up and take a right. Hucklebees is on the right. Can't miss it."

  But Jonathan did miss it, twice. Finally after two near collisions he parked and began walking up the street. He looked at each shop as he passed and then slowed as he came to one with a bright green face and jutting three sided windows. Inside those windows were crates and buckets full of iced meat and hanging slabs above that.

  He heard the slow words of an old man echoing from the door which sat ajar. His heart quickened. Just as with the orphanage, he had no idea what he might say when he walked in. Without words ready, he walked in anyway.

  An old man behind the counter looked up and greeted him, rambling the specials of the day, asking for his order. An older woman, white hair piled high on her head stood behind a cash register. Jonathan looked at her and saw the flash in her eyes. Was it recognition? He wasn't quite sure what he saw.

  "Hello, my name is Jonathan," he said. His voice warbled a little. "I actually came here looking for someone."

  The woman's eyes widened and she gave a slow nod.

  "I recently found out my parents gave up a son for adoption some time ago. After they had me. I was told you were kind enough to adopt him." They were kind. He could see it in their faces. He could also see a sudden nervousness.

  Mr. Hucklebee's face had gone rather white. "Are you here to take him from us?" he asked, low and afraid.

  Inside, Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive. "No, no. Not at all. I just want to know who he is."

  Mrs. Hucklebee, with a face set to all business, waved him over. "We can talk upstairs. Lock up for lunch," she told her husband.

  They sat around a small three legged table. Mr. Huckelbee and Jonathan were quiet as Mrs. Hucklebee poured tea.

  She sat down and faced Jonathan. "We have been good to him. And him to us."

  "I don't doubt that."

  "We could have none of our own. With a business, it didn't make sense to adopt a baby or small one. So, we adopted one who was older. One that could learn the business and help."

  "Learn the business? But you knew that he was..."

  "Slow? Yes, we knew." She offered no explanation beyond this.

  Jonathan looked around. It was a small room, but cozy and warm. Decorated simply, but sensibly. A clean place for his brother to have spent at least the last of his youth. For that he was relieved.

  "Did you change his name when you adopted him?"

  "No, he'd spent his whole life hearing Jeffrey, we thought it best to keep it. His last name was changed to ours, of course."

  "Can I ask where he is now?"

  "He is in his room with his tutor."

  "Tutor?" Jonathan asked, rather shocked.

  "When we
first brought Jeffrey home he didn't speak much and was completely illiterate. They don't bother to educate the retarded at the orphanage. About all he could do was feed himself and sweep the floor. We hired a man to come teach him. We pay him in meat. He’s come three times a week for years now and has taught Jeffrey to read, small words anyway, and do the most basic math."

  "Amazing."

  Mrs. Hucklebee pulled up, proud. "He's no academic, but he continues to improve. He is capable of learning with the right teacher. He possesses a determination that we can't ignore. You can see it in his eyes, the trying."

  Jonathan smiled. Of course he did. Regardless of an ill-formed brain, they came from the same stock and even a disability wouldn't count him completely out. He pulled out the paperwork he'd found.

  "I was cleaning my attic when I found these. That's a picture of him and our parents."

  "Are they wanting to see Jeffrey, too?" Mr. Hucklebee asked nervously as he set eyes on the photograph.

  "No, they've passed. An auto accident."

  "I'm sorry to hear it," Mrs. Hucklebee said.

  "So it's just you? Did your parents have any other children?" Mr. Hucklebee asked.

  "No. Just me. And Jeffrey. I'm married," Jonathan offered. "I have two children, Jean and Amy."

  Mrs. Hucklebee smiled. "I think Jeffrey will be happy to know he has family."

  "More family," Jonathan clarified. He didn't want to discount what the Hucklebees had done for Jeffrey. God only knew what would have happened to him if they hadn't come along. They nodded graciously and seemed to relax a bit. Jonathan realized they still weren't convinced that he didn't want to take Jeffrey away from them.

  "What do you do, Mr. Garrett?" Mr. Hucklebee asked.

  "Fishing. My friend owns a few boats. I work on them and manage them."

  "Do you work out of Boston?" Mr. Hucklebee asked with growing interest.

  "No, Rockport."

  "Too bad it's not Boston. I could use another supplier."

  Jonathan's ears perked up. "Seafood supplier?" he asked.

  Mr. Hucklebee nodded. "Local suppliers have been raising prices. I can't keep up. Can't make a profit," he said with a lazy shrug. All parties seemed to be relieved for the topic to shift off of Jeffrey and onto something neutral, spending a few moments getting to know each other.