The Road Not Chosen

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woodmanone
woodmanone
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"Excuse me sir. I'm supposed to meet my aunt, Mildred Rollins. Do you know her or has someone been asking about me?" Rosie asked and then giggled. "Sorry, my name is Margaret Smyth."

"I don't know Mrs. Rollins," the agent replied. "And no one has been asking for you. But your train is early so your aunt is probably on the way. You can wait for her over there," he offered pointing to several pew type benches in the middle of the depot.

"Thank you but I think I'll wait outside. It's such nice weather." Rosie went out of the depot and sat on a bench against the building.

Rosie waited for over two hours but her aunt never came. Just before sunset she reentered the depot and went over to the agent. Reaching into her night case she took out a piece of stationary that had her aunt's name and address on it.

"Could you tell me how to get to this place?" She asked and showed the agent the note.

"Your aunt hasn't shown up yet?" He asked and looked at the address. "You can hire a carriage at the livery across the way. It'd take you right to the door."

Rosie shook her head. She didn't want to delve into her meager funds any more than she had too. "Can I walk there?"

"This address is about a mile outside of the city and its three miles to the edge of town. Long walk carrying two suitcases Miss."

Rosie sighed. She was disappointed that her aunt wasn't there to meet her and felt a little frustrated because she thought when she got to Peoria her journey would be over. Now she still had over six kilometers to go. For the first time since watching her father leave her in Bristol she felt like crying.

The ticket agent watched the emotions play across Rosie's face. He saw the weariness and disappointment in her eyes.

"You could take a trolley to the edge of town Miss," he suggested. "It would be a 10 cent fare but then you'd only have a mile to walk." He went to the door. "The trolley stop is right over there. They run about every 20 minutes."

Rosie nodded her thanks, picked up her suitcases, and walked to the trolley stop. As she waited she wondered why her aunt hadn't met her. Was something wrong? After thinking about Rosie joining her did she change her mind?

"No need to worry until I have to," she said softly. She did the conversion calculations in her head and added. "I've come over 6400 kilometers to get this far. Another 6 won't stop me."

She boarded a trolley that had "End of the Line" on a sign across the front of the car. The trolley made several stops, picking up passengers and letting them off before arriving at its final destination; the end of the line. The short 3 mile trip had taken almost an hour. Rosie asked and got general directions to her aunt's house from the trolley driver. She walked the last mile, or in her mind 1 1/2 kilometers of her incredible journey in 20 minutes.

********************

An elderly man, sitting on the porch of a house near the road, confirmed that Rosie was headed the right direction. She had been looking around not sure of where she was when he called out to her.

"You lost little girl?" The old man asked in a loud voice. He motioned for Rosie to join him. "Maybe I can help you find your way."

He looks like someone's grandfather, Rosie thought as she approached him. To confirm her thought, three children came running around the house; playing and chasing each other and laughing so hard they could hardly run.

"You brats get into the house," the old man told them with affection in his voice. "Your Momma's gonna skin me for letting you play instead of doing your schoolwork. It's getting dark anyway. Go on now."

All three children responded with, "Yes Grandpa." The oldest, a lad of 8 or so, turned back just before entering the house. "I won't let Mama skin you Grandpa," the boy said, hugged his grandfather and joined the others in the house.

"Dang kids gonna make me old before my time," he complained. "Now where are you headed girlie?"

Rosie smiled at the comment about getting old; the man had to be at least 70. She wasn't fooled by his complaint either. There was love in the man's voice.

"I'm looking for Mrs. Mildred Rollins," Rosie replied. "She's my aunt and I've come a long way to see her."

"You must be Margaret Rose. You've come to live with her. Your aunt's been talking about nothing else for the last two months." He stuck out his hand, "I'm Charles Goodman, your aunt's neighbor. Just call me Grandpa Charley; all the young ones do."

"Where is my aunt's house?" Rose asked Grandpa Charley.

"It's that way about another quarter of a mile," he answered pointing along the road. "See those lights? That's your aunt's place." He smiled at Rosie's excitement. "If you wait until my daughter gets home, I'll walk over with you.

"No thank you Grandpa Charley. After all the time traveling I don't want to wait." Rosie returned to the roadway and picked up her suitcases. She hefted the bags in her hands and stepped out at a lively pace.

"I never knew Aunt Mildred was rich," Rosie said as she walked up the pathway to the big white house. "Back home only the landed gentry have a house this fine."

The house was just a typical large farm house like thousands of others in America's Midwest. But it was a mansion compared to the row houses Rosie had grown up with in England. It had two stories with lots of windows and was painted a brilliant white. The land around the house was being farmed but Rosie found out later that her uncle hired out the farm on shares. He had a very good job working for the city of Peoria.

Rosie set her cases on the large front porch and knocked on the door. She could smell something delicious cooking which reminded her she hadn't eaten since getting on the train back in Chicago. Rosie could hear the footsteps of someone coming to answer her knock.

"Finish setting the table Jonathan so we can eat when your father gets home," a woman's voice said. The door opened and a matronly looking woman looked out at the young girl. "Can I help you child?"

"Aunt Mildred it's me Margaret Rose," Rosie said with tears in her eyes and voice. "I'm your niece."

"My goodness child, you're a day early," Mildred said opening the screen door for the girl. "We were going to meet the morning train from Chicago. Never mind, come here to me," she ordered and pulled Rosie into a hug.

Rosie had tears running down her cheeks as she surrendered to Mildred's hug. She couldn't help herself. The little wisp of a girl had traveled such a long way, on her own, with limited funds that once she felt safe she broke down a little.

Mildred pulled Rosie tighter to her and stroked the child's back as she cried. "Never you mind Margaret, you're home now." The woman finally pushed Rosie back a little and looked at the girl. "You're the image of your mother."

Rosie smiled and let Mildred pull her into the house. "You must call me Millie; Mildred is just for formal occasions," Aunt Millie said and laughed. "Course there aren't many formal occasions out here you know. What should we call you? Margaret, Maggie, Rose or is there another name you like.?"

"If it's alright Aunt Millie could I be called Rosie?"

"Rosie it is then. I'm sure there's a story behind the name. You can tell us after supper."

"Supper?" Rosie asked not familiar with the term.

"Oh that's right. You British call it dinner don't you?" Millie smiled. "So do some of the highfalutin people in the city. Out here it's supper and that means it's time to eat. Come Rosie you must be starving."

Millie showed Rosie to a wash basin by the pump in the kitchen. "You can wash up here and then come into the dining room. We'll eat as soon as your Uncle Ted gets here."

"I'm here woman," a large man said walking into the kitchen. "Put the food on the table." He stopped when he saw Rosie. Turning to Millie Ted said, "This must be Margaret; she looks just like Mary Katherine."

"Rosie this is my husband Theodore." Looking at her husband she said, "And for once in your life you're right. This is Margaret Rose Smyth, my sister's girl. But she likes to be called Rosie."

Ted walked to Rosie and took her hand. "Welcome to our home Rosie. We've been looking forward to you joining us."

"Thank you sir," Rosie said and did a small curtsey.

"No need to call me sir young lady. Call me Uncle Theodore or Uncle Ted; just don't call me late for supper." He released her hand. "Now let's eat. You can tell us about your adventure after supper."

A young man of 17 entered the kitchen. "Rosie this is our son Jonathan," Millie said.

"Pleased to meet you Rosie," Jonathan nodded at his young cousin. "I'd like to hear about England after you get settled."

Later all four of them helped clean up and do the dishes. They went into the living room to hear about Rosie's journey.

Rosie told them about her father putting her on a boat to America. She detailed the trip across the ocean explaining about her traveling companions and how Sean had given her the name Rosie. She told of her experience at Ellis Island, getting a trolley to Penn Station, the train ride to Chicago, and on to Peoria.

"I've been fortunate for I've had someone helping and looking out for me almost at every turn. Sean, Jamie, and Mum on the boat, Mr. Kelly at Ellis, the conductors on the trolleys, Mr. Sweeny and Mr. Collins on the trains." Rosie paused for a few seconds. "I would have done it without them," she added with a firm voice, "but they all made it a lot easier for me."

"We'll say a prayer for them at church on Sunday," Ted promised. "Not it's late and I still have to work tomorrow. So I'll say good night."

"I'll be in as soon as I get Rosie settled into her room," Millie told him.

********************

Rosie quickly became one of the Rollin's family because Millie and Ted treated her like a daughter and not a visiting niece. She thrived and blossomed because she had someone that really cared for and loved her. Rosie was able to start at the same secondary school that Jonathan went to and he watched over her and protected her like a sister until he graduated. By that time Rosie was well liked and accepted by the other students.

She still slipped once in a while and referred to distances, measurements, and weights in the English metric system, but she was getting more comfortable with the American way of things. Grandpa Charley down the road adopted Rosie just as he had every other child in the area. He had been to England as a young man so he and Rosie spent several Saturday afternoons talking about places they both knew.

Aunt Millie made sure that Rosie learned how to cook. Many a Sunday supper was cooked by Rosie to give Millie a break. Once she asked Uncle Ted where he was going on a Saturday morning. He was going fishing and invited her along.

Rosie learned that she enjoyed fishing but not the gentleman's way with a fly rod and the constant casting and retrieving of the line. She liked to take a cane pole, some worms, and a small picnic to a spot on the river where the water lazily flowed past a huge log. Rosie would drop her line in the water and read a book while waiting for the fish to partake of her offering.

Secondary school was an eye opener for Rosie. In an American history class she thought it was almost funny the way history was written; depending on which side the author was on. Back in England the history books told a story of ne'er do wells and ungrateful rebels that caused the uprising in America. In her American history book, it was a Revolution to overthrow tyrannical rule. Same result, but different stories about how and why it happened.

Rosie graduated at 17 and quickly found a job as a ticket agent for the railroad. She was one of the first female agents. She would walk with Uncle Ted and they would take the same trolley to work. They also rode home together at the end of the day.

On her 18th birthday, Uncle Ted invited a young man who worked with him to Rosie's party. Phillip Stewart was 22 and had a bright future with the city of Peoria. It was the first of many meetings which led to their marriage.

Rosie had always felt loved and wanted living with Millie and Ted but now she and Phillip had their own home. "Guess I'm starting another adventure," she told Aunt Millie the night before her wedding.

The Stewarts moved into the city but still came to Ted and Millie's for Sunday supper every week. One year after their marriage Rosie gave birth to the first of six children. One child died just three days after she was born but they raised the other five with love and a firm hand.

"Thank God I had to come to America," Rosie told her husband on several occasions.

********************

"Phillip put the cake higher on the side board please," Rosie requested. "You know how the grandchildren are; they'll eat all the icing before we've had a chance to serve it"

"Yes dear," Phillip answered. "It's Rosie's 50th birthday and you'd think I'd never throw a birthday party for her before," he muttered. "Besides I think it's funny with all the kids running around with icing mustaches."

Someone knocked loudly at the door. "That can't be the children this early can it?" Rosie asked her husband.

"Well answer the door and you'll know for sure," Phillip replied as he put the finishing touches on the decorations.

Rosie opened the door to see an old man with a cane standing on the porch. "Yes, may I help you?" She asked.

"Hello Margaret Rose. I'm your father," Reginald Smyth greeted her. "Don't you know me girl?"

The years had not been kind to Colonel Smyth. He had retired 15 years earlier. Now at 80 the once tall, straight standing, dark haired man had aged and aged badly. Smyth was stooped over and walked with a cane. His once strong body was thin and his skin was a sickly white.

Rosie knew who it was at first sight in spite of the drastic changes in the man. The last memory she had of her father was watching him walk away from her as she stood on the pier waiting to board a ship for America. He hadn't even turned to wave goodbye. Yes she knew who the old man was.

"Hello father," she said in a cold voice. "What do you want?"

"I'm sick girl and I've come to seek help from my daughter. Can I come in?"

"One moment father. I'll be right back," Rosie told him and closed the door. She went to a kitchen cupboard and took down the flour canister where she and Phillip kept the household cash.

Phillip came into the kitchen. "Who was at the door?" He asked. Before Rosie could answer he asked, "What's the money for?"

Rosie was visibly upset and didn't answer her husband. She returned to the front door with Phillip trailing behind her. She opened the door and faced her father.

"I haven't heard or seen you in 40 years. You were going to write to me every month but I didn't receive one letter, not one. You were going to send for me when you finished you posting to South Africa; I'm still here. You didn't care for me when you left me on the dock in Bristol all those years ago. You didn't want to be responsible for me."

Rosie stopped to take a deep breath. Phillip had stepped to her side when he saw how upset she was.

"Now here you are, wanting me to take care of you. Well I don't care for you just like you didn't care for me back then. I don't want to be responsible for you just like you passed me off to Aunt Millie." Rosie stepped closer to her father and extended her hand.

"Here's $50 just like you gave me when you put me on that ship. Now we're quits, go away." Rosie stepped back inside the house and slammed the door on the man that had abandoned her.

Phillip stared at Rosie with surprise. He knew she had a temper, he'd felt more than once over the years, but she was as mad as he'd ever seen her. "What...?" He started to question her.

"Later dear," she interrupted him. "When did you say the children would be here?"

********************

Margaret Stewart lived in Peoria with her beloved Phillip for the rest of her life passing away at the age of 89. She left a legacy for her decedents. A legacy of bravery, to believe in yourself, and to never shy away from new adventures. Margaret was a great lady. God Bless Her.

The End

woodmanone
woodmanone
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AnonymousAnonymous5 months ago

For your information.

Great Britain uses miles for distances

Great Britain includes Scotland. The shorter distance would be England

In the 1890s sail was no longer used on Atlantic liners

The empress of India in 1891 was the Canadian Pacific far east liner.

An interesting story, but so many historical inaccuracies that the rest became hard to believe.

AnonymousAnonymous6 months ago

Nice story. The ending was perfect.

PurplefizzPurplefizzalmost 2 years ago

You took a long time going over minutiae of the journey, then skipped entire decades including how she compared America to England, her permanent abandonment by her Father, her marriage etc, going straight to her Father arriving like a bad penny, if that’s the extent of the tale told you by your friends Grandmother I can understand it, if not that’s a big gap in her life you’ve just glossed over.

I’m not going to pick holes in the details you got wrong in this tale, but I am going to say that as a Brit there were more a couple of glaring mistakes written about our country, these mistakes come from writing about a place you aren’t familiar with, (I see you’re in Arizona) please get a beta/proof reader from a country you aren’t familiar with but are writing about in the future, there are plenty of non-USA citizens here on Lit you could contact if needed, myself included.

Many thanks for writing and posting, cheers Ppfzz. (U.K.)

LilacQueen15LilacQueen15over 2 years ago

Can't blame her for her attitude towards her father but still sad. It would have been nice if she had kept in touch with the folks from the boat.

flareb2343flareb2343over 2 years ago
A$$ HOLES ALL

to all who nit pick bend over and stick your head up your A$$ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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