Chapter 2

1850

Charlotte POV (age 8)

Today was going to be a good day, I could feel it. I don’t know how I knew, but I just did. Like so many things. I knew when it would rain and when it would freeze for the first time each year. I knew when another kid would be moving into the house with us. I’ve learned to keep it to myself though.

I remember a couple years ago when I was six, I had told Mama Sheffield that a little boy was going to need her help. I told her that the sheriff would be bringing him to the house that day. I cried as I told her the boy had a black mark on his face and he was very hungry. She hugged me tightly and told me not to worry, that she would take care of any little child who needed her help.

Later that day, the sheriff showed up with a boy a couple years old than me in his arms. The boy was hurting so badly that he couldn’t walk. I overheard the sheriff tell Mama Sheffield that he had been found behind the saloon. The boy refused to say anything other than his name and that he had no parents. His name was Sam and I remember tears running down my cheeks as I watched him try to sit on the bench at the table to eat. I wanted to help him but I knew that I couldn’t. I was just grateful that Mama Sheffield was willing to take care of him.

That evening, after she helped Sam get settled into bed to rest, Mama Sheffield took me outside and we sat down under the big tree in the backyard. She pulled me into her lap and quietly asked me, “Charlotte, how did you know that Sam was coming today?”

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t know. I just dreamed it this morning before I woke up.”

“Do you have dreams like that often?”

“Sometimes. But mostly, I don’t remember my dreams,” I told her, feeling shy but not understanding why.

“What else have you dreamed recently?” she asked.

“Hmm....I see a little boy sometimes. He has brownish red hair and brown eyes. He seems happy in my dreams. He doesn’t seem to need me so I’m not sure why I dream of him,” I told her, thinking hard about my dreams.

“Charlotte, do you remember your parents?” she asked me again, probably for the hundredth time. She always wanted to know who my parents were, but I couldn’t remember much.

And so, I told her again, “I don’t really remember them much. All I can remember of my Papa is that he was tall and his face was prickly. My Momma was swishy and warm. She had blue eyes and blonde hair.”

“Do you remember anything else? Anything she might have said to you?”

I screwed up my face in thought and tilted my head to the side. It was hard to remember because that was so many years ago. Mama Sheffield had found me on her porch when I was about three. That was such a long time ago for a six-year-old. Mama Sheffield waited patiently for me to think. Finally, I remembered something and my eyes lit up and I smiled.

“What did you remember?”

“I think it was the last day I saw her. We were walking down the street and she had me wrapped in my blanket. I was getting sleepy because it was close to my nap time, so I laid my head on her neck. She said, ‘sleep my angel. Remember I love you, no matter what. You’ll be safe there. Safe until you are grown. The eyes hold the key.’“

I paused as the memory came to an end.

“Hmm..So that must have been when she was bringing you to me,” Mama Sheffield explained.

I looked up at her with tears in my eyes. “But why did she have to give me away. If she loved me so much, why?”

Mama Sheffield hugged me to her as I cried, “I don’t know, my dear. But sometimes, we have to give up what we can’t protect.”

I cried for a while and she just held me. When I finally stopped crying, she told me something that I have not forgotten since. “Charlotte, you must promise me something. Anytime that you have a dream, you must tell me. Do not tell anyone else. Until we understand why your Momma left you with me, we can’t let anyone know about your dreams. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head and lifted my eyes to meet hers. I found nothing but love and safety in her eyes. I knew that I could trust her and that for whatever reason, my Momma must have known it too.

It was a few short weeks later, that Mama Sheffield brought paperwork to me and said that she had filed to adopt me. She wanted to make me her daughter officially. She had spent years searching for my Papa and Momma but had not found them. But following my memory of my Momma’s final words to me, she wanted to protect me. So now, I have a last name. I am Charlotte Sheffield, it’s my birthday, and I am eight years old today. Actually, we don’t know when my birthday is, but this is the day we celebrate it. And because it’s my birthday, I know it’s going to be a great day.

You may be wondering why I call her Mama Sheffield, even though she adopted me. See, she never asked me to call her anything different. And besides, all of the other kids call her that and I don’t want any of them to feel any different. I don’t want them to think that she doesn’t love them enough to adopt them too. She only adopted me to keep me safe. She loves all of us kids the same. I know because she told me so.

Since the time I remembered my real Momma in the dream, I have made sure to tell Mama Sheffield anytime I had a dream about something. It’s super crazy because sometimes, I don’t have dreams, I just get this funny feeling in my tummy. Like the one time that a strange man came to the house. He told Mama Sheffield that he and his wife were interested in adopting. I heard him speaking from the doorway and immediately my tummy started hurting.

Mama Sheffield took them into the sitting room and then she went into the kitchen to make tea. I followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table. As she was setting up the tea tray, she noticed me sitting there.

“Charlotte, dear, are you alright?” she asked, noticing the grimace on my little face.

“My tummy hurts. It just started hurting a few minutes ago,” I whined.

She walked over and felt my forehead. I didn’t know why because it wasn’t my head that was hurting. But then she felt on my tummy, which didn’t make me hurt any more. I couldn’t explain why but it hurt. She told me to go lie down and I did but the ache in my tummy didn’t go away until after the man and his wife left.

Over the next few days, they came back and visited with each of the young boys. And each day they were there, my tummy would hurt. I realized after a couple days that my tummy ache only happened when the couple was there. I shared with Mama Sheffield that I was afraid of the man and his wife. I told her that they were not good people and we shouldn’t let anyone go with them.

About a week later, they came back with papers. That day they talked to Sam about going home with them. As soon as the man told Sam that they wanted to take him home, my tummy started hurting all over again. I told Mama Sheffield that my tummy was hurting again.

Mama Sheffield was watching me and asked the couple if she could review the papers. They handed them to her and she looked them over. I knew when she sighed and her forehead pinched, that Sam was going to have to go with the couple. I bolted from the room and threw myself on the bed.

Mama Sheffield came into the room after the couple took Sam. She told me that there was nothing she could do. The couple had completed the necessary paperwork and they had the legal right to adopt Sam. I cried and told her that Sam was going to get hurt. That the man was mean and would hurt him. She promised me that she would have the sheriff check on Sam in a few days.

That was the last time we saw Sam. About a week later, the sheriff came by to talk with Mama Sheffield about Sam. She sent me outside to play, but I stayed in the hall, just out of sight so I could hear what happened to Sam. The sheriff had not had time to make it out to the homestead to check on Sam until that morning. The man told the sheriff that Sam had been run over by their bull the day before.

The sheriff told Mama Sheffield that when he questioned the man about why they didn’t notify the coroner, the wife got nervous. I don’t know what nervous means, but the sheriff explains that the woman started fidgeting with her hands and wouldn’t look at the sheriff. I guess the sheriff was able to make the woman talk because she finally admitted that her husband had hit Sam so hard that he fell into a crate, broke his neck, and died.

I cried out when I heard that Sam was dead and hurried to my room. I knew it. I told Mama Sheffield not to let him go with them. I had a tummy ache and everything. I cried for my friend who was in heaven in now. I cried because Mama Sheffield didn’t listen to me. And I cried because the sheriff couldn’t do anything to bring Sam back, no one could.

That was the last time that Mama Sheffield doubted my feelings and my dreams. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t always get it right. One day, I told Mama Sheffield that it was going to be sunny all day, I could just tell. Turns out, I was wrong. It rained all day. But most of the time, my tummy and my dreams are true. I don’t know why, they just are.

But today is my birthday and we are going have cake in the back yard. All of the kids at orphanage are going to have cake. The first time that Mama Sheffield gave me a birthday cake, I had asked her why the others kids didn’t get a cake. So now, every kid gets a birthday cake. And if they don’t know when their birthday is, we get to pick a day to celebrate.

Today we are having chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. It’s my favorite. I finished brushing my long straight hair and pulled it into the hair tie that Mama Sheffield had given me for Christmas. There, I was dressed and ready for my big day.

I skipped down the hall and practically ran down the stairs. Then I skipped into the kitchen, only to be scolded by Mama Sheffield for skipping in the house. I apologized and she smiled at me then I got to help her make breakfast. Every day she and I would eat early and then go to the other house, where the other kids stayed and help to prepare their breakfast. When we had school, I would walk to school with the other kids. But it was planting season and school had stopped for the spring and summer.

As we walked into the other kitchen, Miss Mary was already hard at work making the eggs and bacon. I jumped in and started to butter the biscuits that had just come out of the oven. They smelled so good. I had to remind myself that I had already eaten. It was hard to not take a bite, biscuits were one of my favorite things to eat. But I did my best and soon all of the biscuits were buttered and the bowl placed on the table.

Several of the older girls came in to help set the table and help with the final preparations of the meal. Mama Sheffield was very stern when it came to doing our fair share. Everyone had a chore of some kind and we all took turns doing them. This week, a couple of the boys, Julian and Stephen, were in charge of clearing the table after meals. This week, I was in charge of helping get the food ready, but I knew that next week I would be washing dishes after meals. It was the worst job ever.

I never complained, though. Mama Sheffield was keeping me safe. That’s the reason she adopted me. So that no one could come along and take me away. She had promised that she would protect me and so far, she has. That’s why I didn’t mind doing the chores like everyone else. Besides, if we got our chores done quickly, we had more time to play.

After breakfast was over, all of us kids went into the backyard to play. The older girls liked to sit under the big tree while the older boys tossed a ball between themselves. The really little kids would play with dollies. I was in the middle of both groups and liked doing it all. But today was my birthday and I didn’t want to mess up my dress, so I sat with the smaller kids and played dollies with them.

By the afternoon, I was getting tired of waiting for my cake. I knew we were having cake because Mama Sheffield asked me what kind of cake I wanted. But I didn’t see the cake in the kitchen this morning. We didn’t have it after lunch and I still didn’t see it in the kitchen. Did she forget? Is that why we haven’t had cake yet?

Susan noticed that I was sitting by myself and she plopped down next to me. She was eighteen now and would be looking for a husband soon. She put her hand on my shoulder. I know she could tell I was upset about something.

“What’s up, gumdrop?” she asked. She has always called me that. She said that when I was really little my cheeks were round like a gum drop.

I shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t know.”

“I think you do know. In fact, I can see that you are just about to cry. Now, tell me truly, what’s bothering you,” she said, gently urging me to tell her my troubles.

“Well, it’s my birthday and no one said anything. And I think Mama Sheffield forgot to make my chocolate cake with chocolate frosting,” I cried out, the tears falling, causing my nose to drip.

She chuckled and said, “But the day isn’t over yet, is it? Perhaps, Mama Sheffield will have a cake for you after evening meal.”

My eyes grew wide as I realized she was right. I wiped my eyes, then wiped my nose with my hand. Then I realized that my hand had nose slime on it so I had to wipe it on my dress. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have a handkerchief. I frowned when I saw that my dress would have a stain on it and that I hadn’t stayed clean all day, like I wanted to. Oh, well, I tried.

I hugged Susan and thanked her for making me feel better. I watched as she made her way into the house where I lived with Mama Sheffield. She was right, it was still early and I would have my cake later. I jumped up and went to play with the others.

Just as Susan said, after we had eaten supper, Mama Sheffield brought out a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. Everyone yelled, “Happy Birthday” to me and then I giggled. Mama Sheffield helped me to cut the cake because I am only eight years old. I tried to make the pieces the same, but it was hard. So, some of the pieces were bigger than others, but she helped me to make sure that everyone had a little bit of cake to celebrate my birthday.

As I crawled into bed just now, I smiled thinking about how great the day turned out to be. I woke up knowing that it would be a great day and it was. I closed my eyes and settled into the soft bed and said my prayers. Then I drifted off into the land of dreams.

It was dark and the sky lit up with flashes of lightening. I wanted to be afraid of the storm, but Mama Sheffield said that storms were just a part of life. No, I wasn’t afraid of the storm itself but the terrible feeling that the storm brought to me. I peered into the night sky and I saw a large ship rocking on the waves in the distance.

I don’t know how I did it, but suddenly I was standing on the ship. Rocking back and forth with the sea. The rain was beating down on me but I wasn’t wet. I watched as the men on the ship scurried around, calling out to one another. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, I could only guess that they were talking about the storm.

I glanced back out to the water and as the lightening flashed again, I could see that the waves were growing taller and taller as the storm grew worse. My gaze was pulled back to the middle of the ship where a door opened and a young boy stepped out. He was trying to be sneaky. I’m sure his parents told him to stay below.

His curly brown hair was quickly soaked and dripping onto his shirt from the rain. His eyes were curious as he took in the storm and the hustle and bustle of the men on the ship. As he looked around, it seemed as though his eyes settled on mine. He held out his hand toward me and before I could blink, I was standing next to him. He smiled at me and his brown eyes twinkled in the night. The thunder cracked and it startled both of us and I dropped his hand.

He was grabbed from behind and I could tell that the man was his father, for they looked so much alike. His father scolded him and pointed for him to return to wherever he had come from. He lowered his head at his father’s words and nodded in defeat. He made his way back to the door he had emerged from and then looked back in my direction. But this time, it was as if he couldn’t see me.

Cole POV (age 10)

“Stay here, there is a storm coming. I need to go up on deck and help the men. I do not want to worry about you being washed away at sea,” Father scolded me before he left our quarters to go up on deck.

Father and I were currently on our way home from Shanghai. We went there to purchase some silks for Mother. Father didn’t trust anyone with his money and Mother didn’t trust anyone but Father to purchase the best quality. I’m not sure what the big deal is, I mean, fabric is fabric, right? Isn’t it all the same? I mean, I know that some fabrics feel different than others. But what makes the fabric, they call silk, so much better than what we have in California?

My name is Cole Jonah Bolin and I am the eldest of two sons. My brother, Elijah, is four years younger than me. Being so much younger he had to stay home and he was so mad that I got to go with Father. But that’s what he gets for being younger. Mother was not happy about me coming on the trip with Father, but I had begged to be allowed to take this three-month adventure. Father finally relented, telling Mother that perhaps it would get my notion of sailing out of my head.

Unfortunately for Father, this adventure has only made me want to sail that much more. It has been fun and sure, the sea looked basically the same. I loved seeing Shanghai. It was so different from home and the sights and smells were intriguing. I didn’t get to see much, as Father was busy with his business with the silk merchant.

However, the best thing about this entire trip has been what I have learned by watching the crew. The way the crew worked together to keep on course fascinated me. It was a group of men working together to reach a goal. I loved the idea of working as a team. That was something that my parents didn’t understand.

Samuel and Clementine Bolin were both born into wealthy families. Being best friends, their parents, my grandparents, traveled together from Sweeden when my parents were small children. They made their way to America and then traveled to California, looking for the best place to live. They didn’t want to stay on the east coast because in their words, “the elite of society do not live in the squalor of New York and Pennsylvania.”

Yeah, my parents were snooty and I didn’t like it. They had taken on the beliefs and ideals of their parents. They were extremely wealthy in Scotland but didn’t want to live under the rule of the Danish king. They wanted the freedom to do as they pleased because as I said, they felt they were better than everyone else. I have lived with and heard their mantra so much that now every time they say something similar, it makes me sick to my stomach.

So now, years later, we live in California and are one of the upper crust of society. My parents host parties and balls year-round, flaunting their wealth. Lucky for me, I’m still young enough that I don’t have to attend any of their parties. In fact, it is severely frowned upon by the other members of my parent’s elite group of friends.

I was glad to have the things that I did, don’t misunderstand. It is a comfort to have a nice home and plenty of food to eat. It’s just that I don’t agree with how they treat people. I don’t think any less of the people who have to work hard to get what they need out of life. I have learned to keep my opinions to myself because as my mother says, ‘You’re too young to understand how the world works. Someday, you’ll understand.”

So, for now, I dodge their parties. When they bring their friends around and I am forced to spend time with the daughters of those friends, I cringe and want to run for the hills. Every one of those girls are just as snooty as their parents. I just know that someday they are going to try to marry me off to one of those girls. My parents had an arranged marriage and that was fine for them, but I already knew at my young age that I didn’t want that.

Most boys my age didn’t even like girls. But for years, I have been dreaming about a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl that literally takes my breath away. She probably doesn’t exist outside of my imagination, but I keep seeing her in my dreams. But she isn’t my only dream. Owning a shipping company is my other dream. And that dream, I can and will have, no matter what my parents say.

A crack of thunder startles me back into the present. This was the first storm we had encountered on our journey. We were only a few days from home and I felt that we had been very lucky to have smooth sailing until now. The storm was raging on outside. I could hear the waves crashing into the side of the ship and the thunder sounded as though it would break the ship apart.

I could feel the ship being rocked from side to side. Each time, the tilt lasted longer and longer. I’m not frightened, only curious. If I am going to own my own ship and travel the world, I can’t be afraid of the storms at sea. It was for this reason that I long to be on deck with the others but Father forbade me from leaving our quarters. I could probably sneak up and take a quick look. I fought my inner self. I wanted to do as I was told, but my curious nature kept whispering in my ear, ‘Father will never know.’

So now here I am standing just inside the door that leads to the upper deck. I slowly open it and peer out. Father is nowhere to be seen, so I gingerly step through the door. As I turn and take in the chaos around me, I see her. Our eyes meet and I know that she is the girl from my dreams.

How is this possible? Am I dreaming again? I raise my hand out to her and before I can blink, her hand is in mine. It’s as warm as the sun on a summer day. Her blue eyes are sparkling as the lightening breaks the darkness for a split second.

All too soon, Father grabbed me and scolded me for being up on the deck. I nodded in defeat, knowing he wouldn’t allow me to stay on deck any longer. I slowly opened the door to return to the deck below and a I quickly looked for the girl, but she was gone. I quickly stepped through and closed the door. Just then, I heard the waves crash onto the deck of the ship. The men were yelling but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Knowing that my father was right about staying below, I returned to our quarters.

I don’t know if she was really there or just the storm was playing tricks on me, but she was prettier than my dreams. I removed my wet clothes and pulled on my dry long johns, then crawled into my bed, hoping for my dreams to find her once more. “I’ll find you. I promise.”