NaNoWriMo 1

She couldn't pull her eyes away for more than a minute from the thin gold line that circled her finger. The fingers of her right hand toying with the ring on the third finger of her left hand. The weight on her hand was unfamiliar but not in a heavy foreboding sense of weighing her down,. It was just the presence of something there that had not been there before. Drawing her eyes from her lap and up to the window she looked out at the Virginia landscape as the train passed mile after mile of farm lands, forests, desolate outposts, towns and cities. Off in the distance the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains appeared, disappeared and reappeared. She was headed toward home. Her new home. Her new home with her new husband. A man she had loved in one form or another since her childhood. A man she had stood beside only days before and vowed her life to his. Married, the word resonated from deep inside of her. Till death do you part, rang clear as a bell in her ears. Before God and these witnesses, echoed in the chambers of her heart. Abigail Hudson done gone and got herself married. It wasn't a far reach to imagine the words rolling off the tongues of the people she left behind in a tiny town in Georgia. The corners of her mouth began to hint at a slightly turned up smile. The events of the past days unfolded in a series of pictures not unlike her reflection in the pane of glass she looked out of. Events that led to her sitting on this train, wedding band on her finger, everything she owned stowed in a few trunks and one carpet bag and a husband waiting for her just a few more miles up the line. The whole thing was exciting and frightening all at the same time. I must be insane, she thought, a tiny giggle slipping from her throat causing her eyes to scan those sitting near her wondering if they heard the sound she couldn’t seem to contain. What was she thinking when she threw caution to the wind and hitched her wagon to that of a man she really did not know beyond a childhood friendship and a dozen years of letters? What had caused the momentary slip that had the words, "Yes, I will marry you," tumbling past her lips? These questions she had asked herself time and again and still there was no answer to them. Firmly believing that life is what you make it she almost giggled again at the thought she had certainly made hers now. She and Tom Harlow had been childhood friends. They met in the country school house where he had been a little too tall, a little too lanky, a little too shy and far too smart for a one horse town with a one room school house. She had been a chubby, freckled girl, with hand-me-down dresses, very worn shoes, unruly curly hair tending to be a bit too frizzy and an aptitude for learning that met and sometimes surpassed his own. In the years of schooling they were often together, the accelerated learners, sharing books and study materials. Everyone knew Tom would go on to do great things. He had opportunities available to him. He had an old uncle who placed a heavy value on education and Tom. When Tom finished his formal grades at the school he was going on to bigger and better things where he would learn business at the hand of his bachelor uncle. Those same people wondered why education was wasted on a poor frumpy girl who would most likely do no more than marry and have a herd of poor frumpy children of her own. She was from the other side of the tracks. A girl who’s family lived in one of the shacks on squatter’s row. The youngest of five daughters, motherless, raised by a father who barely brought home enough to feed them let alone provide anything extra. Many times she had been the butt of cruel jokes and mean older boys. That is until Tom came along. He stepped in and dared those other kids to even think a bad thought in her direction. He was her savior, her protector and became her best and only friend. Only once did anyone dare to challenge Tom. Once was enough to teach everyone a lesson. He was a force to be reckoned with. All too soon school days were over and Tom was leaving. It was with tears she waited at the depot and watched him board the rail cars headed toward Atlanta. Toward a life very different from her own. He waved and called to her from the open window promising to keep in touch. Making her promise to write in return. Just as the train pulled from the station she gathered her voice and through her tears called to him, “I love you, Tom!� Waving goodbye hoping he wouldn’t forget her. She thought he had not heard her words but he shouted over the wheels turning on the rails, “I love you, too, Abbey!� Keeping in touch over the years through was easy enough through cards and letters. His letters came to her from all over the south. He described people and places and work. He wrote of his dreams and plans for the future. She in turn kept him up to date on the happenings in her own life and encouraged him to explore and see and be everything he dreamed of. She relived his adventures through his words. There were times she scrimped on their food bill to have the pennies to mail Tom a letter. It was no hardship whatsoever. As long as a meal was on the table in the evening and coffee was on the stove in the morning her father rarely questioned how the grocery money was spent. She supplemented the income by taking in washing and ironing and supplemented their larder by growing vegetables in the tiny back yard. Her sisters left home as soon as possible so it was only her and her father in the house. She saved as much as possible hoping to one day be able to attend teacher’s school. It seemed that the more she tried to save the less she was able to save for one reason or another. Her father fell ill in winter, lost his job and it took every dime she had to keep a roof over their head, a fire in the hearth and food on the table. In desperation to get out of the hole she was in she took in sewing attaining the reputation of an expert seamstress. Her father got older and sicker leaving her the sole provider of the home. She took these things in stride over the years never asking why me. She held her head up, look straight ahead and grew out of that chunky, freckled, wire haired girl and into a handsome young woman. She also matured into a young woman with woman’s heart. The letters from Tom made her heart grow fonder. She dreamed of a day when their lives would cross paths once again. Tom had not been a frivolous boy who grew into a dreamer of a man. Oh, no. He was a hard working man who went were the jobs took him and saved as many of his earnings as possible. He had dreams and plans he was working toward. He was determined to make his own way in this world, the boss of his own days, not beholden to anyone for the next bite of food on his table. At times the letters would stop coming. She feared and fretted something had happened to him but scolded herself in the next breath for he was a grown man who no longer had time for a silly girl from his childhood. Soon enough she would receive another scribbled card or note and everything would be set to rights. In the past year Tom’s letters changed. They became more than his dreams. He had saved enough to purchase a parcel of land where he planned to build a general store along the train line in a little village a few hours ride from Richmond. He was building a house as well. He asked her opinion on how the house should be built to suit a woman's tastes. Everything from the cellar to the attic had been approved or disapproved by her standards of housekeeping. He did build his storefront. It was the train stop in the village and Tom was the post master for the delivery of the United State mail service. The clackety-clack of the train began to slow. The conductors voice rang out loudly as he passed through the passenger cars. "Grasslands, Unionville, next stop." She was one stop away from where she wanted to be.