We arrived at the train station with our luggage being carried and were escorted to a private car. I had my tie and jacket off and was carry them as I undid the top buttons of my shirt, which stifled me. I walked into the private car and was awestruck by the wealth of being in first class. The private car was huge and lavish with rich mahogany interior lined with golden brass, containing red velvet and leather upholstered couches bolted on the Persian carpeted floor. He sat down and began reading a newspaper, as if I wasn't there, and I followed, sitting down and unsure of what to do but wait.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he took me by surprise.

I was silent not knowing if I should speak. He looked at me, eyeing me down. He was inspecting me, but for what? I tensed. I couldn't read his face

"They told me you didn't speak, haven't since your mother passed," his eyes narrowed, growing dim and stern, "I'm about to change that."

My heart stopped in fear. I repeated what he said in my head, what he meant and if he was serious. But before I could comprehend he lashed at me causing me to fall to the floor. My head was pounding from the blow to my face. I attempted to get up and was soon kicked back down by him.

He held me down by his foot and twisted my arm causing me to whimper. In all my few previous experiences in school fistfights, none had ever been this brutal and painful. He leaned down and I could feel his breath on my ear, "Don't think for a second you can get away with this stubborn act of yours. As long as you're in my keeping you'll be obedient and when I tell you to speak, you'll speak. You can't afford to be stubborn with me, defy me and I'll break you just like I broke the Finn before you. I can do anything Finn, and nobody, not your weak self can do anything to stop me. I own you, just like I owned your mother, that Jewish pig I saved from poverty. You have no freedom, nowhere to escape to. You're in my control now. Speak," he hissed then command as if I were a dog as he twisted my arm some more to make me whimper like a puppy.

I wanted to run, to scream for help, but I was in fear. I was helpless, completely helpless in a demeaning state. I was in tears, hating myself for satisfying his need to deteriorate me. Boys don't cry and any that do are pathetic. "I'll speak! Let go please, I'll speak!" I finally said, grimacing and reducing myself, "Please don't hurt me."

He let go and I slowly lifted myself up back to the couch, trying not to gasp in pain enough to provoke him to hurt me again. This was why my mother took me and lived happy in lower class; she wanted freedom for both of us. Jewish pig? I wanted to yell at him, tell him my mother wasn't a Jewish pig, but I couldn't defend her. If I did would I be alive or at least not in critical condition, I mean, if he struck me just for not talking, I can't imagine what he'd do to me if I argued with him.

"Did your mother ever speak of me?" He asked still standing over me.

"No, never, who's Finnegan?" I stuttered.

"What do you mean who's Finnegan?"

"She said he was my father, I was named after him," I said praying it won't offend him. He started to laugh, which frightened me. Why would he laugh at that?

"Maybe he is, perhaps your mother was the type to sleep with young boys. Finnegan was your uncle who died before you were born."

"Why did you marry her, if she was a Jewish pig to you?" I couldn't believe I asked that out loud.

"Many people, reporters, the public, wondered the same thing. She worked at one of my factories when she was young, earning money for college. She was from a large family and unlike her father she valued an education over marriage. She was a wild girl with her head up in the clouds, she also was in love with a son of a doctor, and once she had enough money they would go away to college together and start their own school after. She was boisterous, thinking she was something, and one day, the day I met her she found me yelling at worker who blamed my factory for his injury. Your mother thought she could be noble, she approached me and fired at me, embarrassing me in front of my workers, as she stood up for that worker. She quit and stormed out, believing she could just walk away a free woman after insulting me. As brave as she was, she was very naïve. I tracked her down and found out her father was a very old fashion man of greed, and so I offered for her hand in marriage with a great dowry no father could refuse. I'll always remember the look on her face right after when she learned she was engaged to me, an engagement she could not break, for if she ran I would have her family and her old love murdered. At first she did fight back, but I eventually succeeded in breaking her down into my submissive wife, a bird trapped in a gilded cage. I got what I wanted and once she bared me a son she would have no use to me and I would lock her away in an asylum, but your mother learned of that and after the death of her father, she took you and ran. Ironic how she died of a broken neck, and died a penniless waitress with a coward of a son bearing the face of the boy she killed."

He was insane, to marry a girl just to punish her for embarrassing him, all that just to get back at someone? That was why? He nearly ruined her for just a remark. And did she really kill the man who I thought was my father? That couldn't be true! She couldn't have been a murderer! He was lying. He had to have been. This man could not be my father.

He went back into ignoring me; happy he had hurt me both inside and out, destroying my morale.

0o0o0o0

There was silence through the rest of the two days long train and car ride there. Where was there? I was about to see. The car stopped at a black-ironed gate, one of many in the lush green countryside of New England, and was waiting for it to open. It opened revealing a dirt road leading to a grand mansion, or cottage as I later learned it was called. The gardens were vast with neatly cut hedges surrounded by all sorts of colorful flowers, all in a design. But it was the mansion itself that caught my eye. It looked like a castle, four stories of hand crafted and carved stone covered with green vines. It didn't have hard edges, but was rounded with many huge windows, towers, and Greek columns.

The car pulled up in front of the stairs to the double doorway. I opened the car door and got out and walked up the steps and was greeted by a middle age Hispanic woman in a maid's uniform.

"My lord, this can't be--" She asked looking at me as if I was a ghost.

"Yes, my son. Gertie please send Rolland down to carry the luggage," He ordered not paying mind to her astonishment of my presence.

"He looks just like—"

"Where Lydia?"

"She's in her room Mr. Cromwell, want me to go get her."

"Please, and Aggie too."

"Yes sir." She left immediately after leaving the door open.

I entered and stood agape. Riches I'd only see in movies and read about, marble floors, courtyard in the middle with a garden, pool and fountain, ballroom, library, hand painted and chiseled mural ceilings, ancient tapestries and artwork displayed. The closest thing that came to this house that I'd known was the famous Hearst Castle.

"For a moment there I thought I lost my mind and the boy in the painting jumped out," a girl's voice said.

I looked her way, she looked about ten, skinny and tall with her long brown hair tied back a tight pony tail giving the effect of her forehead to look big, her was chin narrow, eyes were dark blue and beady and too close together, and her nose was too big for her face, all causing her to look stern and snobbish-and maybe I'm just saying it did because I know now that she indeed was.

"Are you Aggie?" I timidly asked.

Instead of answering she saw him out front and ran to hug him, "Daddy!"

"Agatha!" He changed right before my eyes into a kind and loving father, "How has my princess been? Did you miss me?"

"Miriam's been messing up my stuff again, Daddy, she such a pain," she wined.

"I know, but mommy doesn't want her back to being away from her."

"Who's the boy?" she looked back to me in disgust.

Who was Miriam and why didn't he say anything about her till now.

"He's your long lost big brother Finn, he shouldn't be a pain and if he is just let me know and I'll take care of it," he said glancing at me to remind me of our little 'talk' on the train. "You won't be a pain, will you Finn?"

Now I had two people to keep happy. "No," I answered, "Who's Miriam?"

"It doesn't matter, she's nobody," she said and that was that about Miriam.

"What's so important that I have to come down for?" A blond woman emerged at the top of the stairwell, "Who is that with you," she walked down getting a closer look of me, her face brightened, "Oh my, it's Finn," she ran down and embraced me, "I thought I'd never see you again, I remember when you were a baby! My have you grown!"

I didn't know what to make of her sudden fondness of me. "You knew my mother?" It was a dumb question.

She was still before answering, "I was ah her friend, yes, her good friend," she laughed nervously.

A good friend who took her place, "Okay," I said instead.

"He's so handsome, just like you Henry. I can't tell you how happy I am that you're finally back. You're like a son to me, and when you were taken I couldn't sleep for weeks. I prayed and prayed that you would come back. Oh how I missed you, I still have your baby picture in my locket right next to Aggie's—"

"That's enough Lydia," he stopped her before she reached for her locket. She backed away.

A good friend who tried taking her place as mother to me as well, my mother's death must had been a tragedy to her, I mused to myself.

"Where is he staying? I know we still have his room ready, I always made sure of that over the years, just incase, and now you're here. Tell Roland to drop his things there, Gertie. We have much catching up to do, Finn."

"I've said, that's enough, go upstairs," he loudly whispered to her harshly.

"Alright! I'll see you at dinner Finn." She smiled to me and went back up, he followed her, leaving me alone with Aggie.

"Incase you're too stupid as Miriam, you're the prize son she could never provide my father," she said after they were gone.

"Again, who's Miriam?" I asked again, annoyed that no one would tell me who she was.

"You'll see soon enough," was all she would say.

"Tell me now. Is she like your sister?"

"Not anymore," she vaguely said before she left me.

Okay, I forgot to mention that this takes place in the pre WWII era of the late 1930's, sorry if you guys were confused earlier.

Thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate them, again, thanks! Miriam will be officially introduced in the next chapter, I promise.

Jules