At Home in Persimmon Hollow
At Home in Persimmon Hollow
Persimmon Hollow Legacy Series Book 1
Gerri Bauer
Spiranthes Press, LLC
Scripture passages have been taken from New Revised Standard Version Bible (Catholic edition), copyright ©1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A., and used by permission. All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
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Cover design by
https://selfpubbookcovers.com/MU-Designs
Edited by
https://www.erickamcintyre.com/
Kindle ISBN: 978-1-7328711-5-1
EPUB ISBN: 987-1-7328711-6-8
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7328711-7-5
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Reprint. Copyright ©2022, Gerri Bauer. All rights reserved.
Published by Spiranthes Press, LLC
DeLand, Florida, USA
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First published in 2015 by Franciscan Media,
28 W. Liberty St., Cincinnati, OH 45202
with the following data:
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bauer, Gerri.
At home in Persimmon Hollow / Gerri Bauer. pages cm. — (Persimmon Hollow legacy ; 1)
ISBN 978-1-61636-863-0 (paperback)
Single women—Fiction. 2. Frontier and pioneer life—Florida—Fiction.
Title. PS3602.A9355A83 2015
813’.6—dc23
2015008015
Created with Vellum
To my husband,
Peter D. Bauer,
for his love, support,
and for always believing in me.
And to my parents
Edward M. Giovanelli (1929-2020) and
Catherine Rose Puccio Giovanelli (1929-2018)
for instilling in me a love of reading
and so much more.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Also by Gerri Bauer
About the Author
Chapter One
Central Florida, August 1886
A fine man, indeed. What had that woman in Jacksonville been thinking? Agnes Foster sighed. She didn’t need this discouraging first encounter, not when she was already tired, bedraggled, and disappointed in her new surroundings. The Persimmon Hollow train station was nothing more than a log shelter in a hot, isolated wilderness. It was definitely not what she expected.
Wilting in the thick air, she stared at the sullen stranger who’d met the train. She was almost sorry she’d agreed to chaperone young Billy, the only other traveler to get off in this middle of nowhere. That impulsive offer of chaperonage, which she’d proposed at the Jacksonville train station, meant she now had to deal with this unfriendly ox of a man seated before them on a placid, grayish-white horse.
He sat straight-backed and frowning, gripping the reins as though impatient to depart as soon as he could finish his business.
No humility in this man’s stature, Agnes thought, before she reminded herself not to judge. But it was hard. She felt for the rosary in her skirt pocket and searched her heart for charity. The touch of the smooth beads of the Lourdes rosary, a gift from Mother Superior, grounded her.
But it remained a challenge to feel charity for the grim-faced man before her. She already knew his name was Seth Taylor, even though he hadn’t introduced himself. She already knew Billy was his nephew, despite the way Mr. Taylor hadn’t responded to Billy’s hello or to Agnes’s how-do-you-do. He hadn’t even removed his well-worn Stetson hat. He hadn’t made any acknowledgment of Agnes or Billy at all beyond a stony glare. Whatever in heaven was wrong with him? A stubborn mule would be easier to reckon with.
The woman on the train who’d entrusted Billy to Agnes’s care had been right about one thing, though. Seth Taylor certainly was fine looking. But good looks didn’t make up for rude behavior. And his behavior made her suspect his character was as poor as his manners.
Billy kept silent and stood with slumped shoulders and a lowered gaze. In his neat city attire of trousers and collared shirt, he seemed out of place in the wilderness of tangled forest growth. He scuffed the sand with one shoe while Seth just stayed on his horse, lips pressed together and face shaded by the overhang of his hat.
“Telegram from your aunt reached me this morning,” Seth finally said to Billy. “Said to meet the train. Said she was shipping you back because you’re too much for her to handle. Starting right now, you best forget your foolhardy ways. They’ll get you nowhere here. Now get on and let’s go.”
He indicated with a nod of his head that Billy was to sit behind him on the horse.
“I’m surprised the telegram even got here before you did,” Seth grumbled. “Guess it’s too much trouble for city folk to ask a man if he minds that his life’s about to change.”
Agnes’s displeasure bristled in proportion to the crestfallen look on Billy’s face. Her own discomforts fueled her impatience with Seth’s sour words and disinterest in his nephew. The man was as sorry as the place she’d landed in.
Persimmon Hollow wasn’t anything like the description in the advertising circular, the one she had read so often that the folds in the paper were worn thin. The palm-log station house was small and empty. The bare, sandy lot around it stretched in a bleak circle.
The advertisement’s etching had depicted a larger station that seemed airy and appealing, with happy travelers standing inside and out, and horses and wagons filling the lot. The scene before her was desolate.
Her high-collared blouse, full wool skirt, and long-sleeved jacket chafed her skin under the sun’s intensity. Tendrils of hair escaped her scarf and stuck to her cheek, damp from humidity. Every time she took a step or shifted position, more soft sand trickled between the laces of her high-top shoes.
And never in her life had she heard such a loud buzz of insects and odd critters’ noises in broad daylight. Her ears were more attuned to the clip-clop of horses’ hooves on cobblestones, the sounds of vendors calling out their wares, and children playing on the sidewalks of busy city streets.
Worst of all, no one had arrived to escort her into the heart of town. Her patrons and new employers, the Misses Alloway, had written that they’d send a wagon to meet her. Well, she’d walk into town before she asked the surly Seth Taylor for help. That is, if she could figure out in which direction town lay.
The contrast between then and now, between the life she had been forced to leave and this new unknown, was almost too much to bear. Stiffen your spine, Agnes, she told herself. She thought of Mother Superior’s encouragement and prayers and of Fr. Tom’s advice to put herself in God’s hands and follow his will. Yet right now, those thoughts only made her long f
or home, St. Isidore’s Home, the only home she’d ever known.
Had she really been gone only a few days? It seemed like forever. Even the train’s stop in Jacksonville seemed like it had been weeks ago. Yet it had been mere hours since the shrill whistle and the screech of brakes had awakened Agnes when the train halted in the north Florida city.
There, the station had been alive and busy. Here, the standoffish silence between Seth and Billy stretched as interminably as the sun’s rays.
She closed her eyes against the glare and thought back over the journey that had dumped her, alone, in the barren, sandy wilderness of Persimmon Hollow, responsible for a child she didn’t know, apparently abandoned by her new employers, and forced to deal with a man of questionable behavior. She was far, too far, from home.
Jacksonville, 8 hours previous
Agnes’s skirt caught on the edge of the train seat as she awoke, shifted, and looked out the smudged glass of the sooty window. At last, a town of substance. For so long there had been nothing but rows of pine trees that stood like soldiers at arms, with green, spiky shrubs bunched at their bases.
The view had been the same through the night under the light of the moon. It was just past dawn, yet Agnes already felt the heat. Her throat was dry and scratchy and her small canteen was empty.
She wondered what city they were in. More than half the train car’s passengers had disembarked at Charleston or Savannah. A goodly number of the rest were now getting up and gathering their bags.
She dug the advertising circular out of her satchel and compared the etching of the Persimmon Hollow station with the building she saw through the window. Not even close. The etching depicted a small but bustling log depot with forest in the background. This station was red brick and large. Wood buildings crowded around it and a platform thronged with people ran alongside the track.
Agnes stood up and yanked on the window to open it. A blast of warm air greeted her. She could almost feel her hair under her scarf springing in disarray. Tresses that escaped tickled her cheeks. She tucked the curls back in and hoped the combs that secured her hair in a twist at the nape of her neck would stay where they belonged.
“Sir,” she called to the conductor, who stood just below the window and helped people down the steps from the railroad car.
“Is this Florida?”
“Yes, miss,” he said and looked up at her. “But not your stop. That’s eight hours down the track. This is Jacksonville. We’ll be here for thirty minutes if you want to freshen up.” He glanced at the watch he wore on a chain. “You still have a good twenty-five minutes.”
Agnes headed for the women’s entrance to the station. She neatened up, grabbed a few sips of coffee in the station house dining room, refilled her canteen, and was back in her seat just as the conductor called, “All aboard.”
Eight hours to Persimmon Hollow. Eight more hours to a new life, with the horror of what had happened tucked away, a thousand miles distant. She drummed her fingertips on her satchel as she waited for the train to start moving.
Despite what had happened, she couldn’t help but remember all the good things she’d left behind. She felt like the woman she saw on the platform outside, the one with fatigue on her face but a brisk pace and a firm hand on a frowning boy. Going somewhere with purpose, but not happy about it.
Another boy who trailed the glum youngster yelled in a voice that carried above the din. “When you coming back, Billy? You ain’t gonna stay down there forever, are ya?”
The woman blocked the boy from running back to his friend and instead ushered him up the car steps and onto the train.
“Hurry, William!” she urged. He broke away from her, clumped up the aisle, and then, despite all the open seats, slumped into the seat facing Agnes, immediately turning and leaning out the open window.
“I ain’t staying down there!” he called to his friend. “I don’t wanna go and I ain’t staying!”
“Hush, William,” the woman said. She smiled apologetically at Agnes. “Pardon him, miss. His manners aren’t always so unbearable. He’s being stubborn about this journey.”
“He’s no bother,” Agnes said. “I’m used to being around a lot of children.”
The conductor blew his whistle and yelled, “Leaving the station!” The train engines started to rumble louder.
“Oh! I must go!” the woman said. She turned to the boy and put her hands on his shoulders.
“William, you listen to me. You behave for the conductor and do not get out of your seat until this train reaches Persimmon Hollow. Understand me? Your Uncle Seth will be there to meet you at the station. Do you understand?”
The boy stuck out his lower lip and kicked at the train seat.
“William, this is no time for misbehavior. I want your promise.”
“I’d be glad to keep an eye on him,” Agnes interrupted. She stood up and reached her arm toward the woman for a handshake. “I’m Agnes Foster, Persimmon Hollow’s new teacher. I’ll make sure he gets safely into the hands of his uncle.”
The train inched forward and stopped. The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, bless you, thank you,” she said, touching her hand to Agnes’s and smiling.
Agnes knew she made a trustworthy impression on people. Hadn’t she been a hundred times? Something about her heart-shaped face, clear hazel eyes, and wide mouth that was quick to smile combined to put people at ease. Her whole face smiled, not just her lips.
The woman gave William a kiss on the head and hurried toward the car’s exit.
“His uncle is named Seth Taylor, my brother-in-law,” she called over her shoulder, then stopped at the doorway and spoke hurriedly. “He’ll be easy to identify. A handsome man, with the rugged look of an outdoor life. Black hair, and green eyes the same as William’s.” Then she exited and was gone.
The boy had waved to his aunt and friend until the people on the platform were so far in the distance they appeared as small as the specks of dirt on the window. The train rounded a bend and was swallowed by pine forest. He flopped down in his seat.
“I ain’t gonna stay,” he announced. “Uncle Seth ain’t gonna make me stay. I bet he don’t want me coming any more than I want to go.”
He stared at Agnes with defiance. “And my name’s Billy, not William.”
“How old are you, Billy?” she asked.
“Twelve.”
“I’ve heard twelve-year-old boys are big eaters. I have a tin of meat and some cheese, far too much for me to eat. Would you do me a favor and help?”
He shrugged, but there was a look of interest in his gaze. Agnes peered into the frayed bag that held her worldly belongings: an extra skirt, two aprons, two shirtwaists, a shawl, a few small towels, an extra scarf, a brush, her Bible, her Catechism, and a small vial of Holy Water.
Her fingers flicked over the circular she had stuffed back in the bag. Then she found the small lunch tin and the cookies Polly had baked as a going-away present.
Her bright, young Polly. She was so close in age to the young fellow across from Agnes. How she wished they could have finalized adoption papers before she’d had to flee.
“Look what I found!” she exclaimed in as bright a voice as she could muster. “Sugar cookies!” Billy sat forward, and his eyes brightened.
“For dessert,” she added.
She spread out small cloth towels and gave him a hefty portion of meat and cheese. She forced down a few bites herself, but her appetite had stayed behind when the rest of her set out for Florida.
The more Billy ate, the less disturbed he appeared. He settled into his seat and gave Agnes a quick grin. She remembered how good it felt to lend a helping hand to others. She looked upward and murmured a quiet thanks.
“You’ve been in Persimmon Hollow before?” she asked. He nodded affirmatively as he munched on sugar cookies.
“Has your Uncle Seth lived there long?” Again, a nod.
“After we eat, would you tell me a little bit about the town? This is my fi
rst time going there. All I know is what I learned from an advertising circular.”
Billy swallowed and nodded.
“Sure,” he said. “Wait ’til you hear about my Uncle Seth. He’s a real swell guy. I wanna be like him when I grow up. Well, I mean, like everybody says he was before he got mean and mad at everybody and…uh…I mean…uh.”
He stopped, as though remembering a warning about what he could and couldn’t talk about with strangers. He looked uneasily at Agnes.
“I look forward to meeting your uncle,” she said. “I’m sure he’s a fine man.”
Agnes winced as she remembered saying those words to Billy. He’d glowed on the train when he spoke of his uncle. His disappointment now was vivid, and it irked Agnes that his Uncle Seth could be so unfeeling.
In no rush to climb onto his uncle’s horse, Billy kicked a downed oak branch into the brush at the edge of the clearing. The action startled a pair of ruddy-backed birds with speckled breasts, and they flew up out of the leaf litter.