Samantha

Comes to

Town

June 1900, Adirondacks New York

The peaceful forest of mountainous New York stretched out long before all the vacationers taking refuge in her domain. The promise of summer and many good times yet to come lined the wooden realm of Piney Point, the private wilderness estate belonging to Mrs. Mary Edwards, an elderly rich widow and her children Gardner and Lydia along with her young family.

A relaxed summer breeze rustled through the branches high up in the treetops. This quiet peace didn't last for long, however, for a child's wailing cry echoed across the sky.

Lydia, the mother of this distressed little girl, scooped her up and nuzzled her nose. "No, my Samantha darling, you must stay here with Grandmary and Uncle Gard."

"But I wanna come too!"

"And you will," Lydia promised as she set Samantha down, "just not today."

"Mother, take me with you!"

"Lydia," said Grandmary sternly from the doorway. "We've talked about this. Children should be seen and not heard."

"I know," said Lydia as she leaned down to give Samantha a kiss. "But I cannot help but feel like there's another way of raising children, one without strict rules and firm relationships."

Grandmary narrowed her eyes. "There is more to motherhood than solely reacting on impulses and feelings Lydia. The sooner you learn that the better off Samantha will be. As women it is our duty to raise children properly. If all mothers forgo discipline, then where will the world be?"

"A much happier place," muttered Lydia.

"Lydia!"

But Lydia was saved from a last minute lecture by her brother and her husband who strode dashingly into the room.

"Ready my dear?" asked Mr. Parkington.

Lydia smiled at him. "I'm always ready."

"Be careful," Grandmary warned. "The Admiral says a storm is brewing."

"Oh Mother," Lydia laughed. "You worry too much."

Nevertheless, Lydia kissed her mother's cheek goodbye before taking her husband's arm.

"Have fun," Gard called from the rug in the same stern tone his mother used. Both he and his niece had already rumpled their fine clothing. "It is your wedding anniversary after all."

Mr. and Mrs. Parkington celebrated their anniversary by spending a wonderful day in their favorite place, Teardrop Island located in the most treacherous corner of Goose Lake. To get there, they had to brave dangerous rapids and run the risk of smashing their small rowboat on the rocks. The journey proved to be worth it though once they arrived in Piney Point's own piece of paradise. To Lydia, Teardrop Island was never a sad place. It was a slice of heaven on earth with the natural beauty of the landscape and the many happy memories her family created there.

Throughout the day, the Parkingtons splashed in the waterfall, sketched the light fading in through the trees, and stealing kisses in the most romantic way. Time passed much too quickly and soon the sun was setting as Samantha's parents lay in each other's arms dreaming of a future that sadly, wasn't meant to be.

Despite all their dreaming and imagining neither could anticipate the terrible turn life was about to take on that blissful summer's eve. Maybe they were so in love and lost track of time, maybe they thought they were invincible and needn't bother with heeding Grandmary's warning or maybe Samantha Parkington was destined to grow up an orphan, but either way it happened that night, Mr. and Mrs. Parkington were going to die.

Night had fallen on Teardrop Island as the young couple fell asleep gazing at the stars. Thunder rumbled as a storm rolled in jerking Mr. Parkington awake. "Lydia," he gently shook his wife awake. "Lydia, we have to go before the storm gets here."

Lydia opened her bleary eyes to see her husband hurriedly packing up their picnicking gear. Dark clouds loomed in the distance but hadn't yet come near. They thought there was time to make it home safely to their Samantha. But they thought wrong. The wind was starting to howl as they boarded their rowboat and he pushed off from shore. Once they passed the narrow passage in Goose Lake then it would be smooth sailing. They only had to make it past that point. But they never did.

Lydia sat in the bow holding the lantern for her husband who was hard at work rowing. She couldn't hear the future shouts of her mother calling through the passage of time telling her to wait out the storm on the island, to do anything to stay safe and alive. Lydia was an adventurer, so much like her little daughter that the idea of facing the storm didn't scare her as it ought. It fascinated her until it was too late, and the moment came when Lydia Edwards Parkington knew she wasn't going to live to see another day.

Dark, foreboding waves splashed higher and higher climbing all the way into the boat. Wind and rain swirled together as they smashed the Parkington's rowboat against the rocks. Mr. Parkington gave up on rowing and struggled to keep his head above water. Meanwhile, his wife was thrown from the rowboat and beaten against the rocky terrain repeatedly. Her skirt caught between the boulders dragging her under to the rockiest depths of the riverbed.

"Lydia!" Her husband screamed. He dove deep into the icy water after her. His arm went around her waist as he tried to heave her up to the surface. Flailing, he tore her skirt and kicked until they broke to the surface where vicious waves met whipping wind. Coughing, sputtering, and choking on water they clung onto each other until they both grew too weak to continue the fight. As they surrendered to the elements only one thought slipped through their minds and it was of their daughter. Their time on earth was over but Samantha's story was just beginning. It seemed Samantha's happy days with her parents was done for this merry little family of three became just one lonely girl in a sad little family of one.

A clap of thunder shook the house followed by a flash of lightning striking in the distance. Gard stood solemnly at the window feeling as if something wasn't quite right. "They should have been back by now," he muttered.

More thunder roared causing Samantha to whimper and bury her face in her Uncle's pant leg. "Not now Sam," he shooed her away.

It was his firm tone that frightened Samantha most. She had never before heard her fun loving uncle speak so seriously.

"I'm going out to look for them!" Gard announced. He grabbed his hat and jacket as the Admiral said, "I'm coming too."

"No!" Grandmary clutched her son's arm. "It's too dangerous, I . . . I. . ." I don't want to lose you too.

But Gard just shook his head grimly. "I must. They are my family and I know they would do the same were I in their place."

Grandmary paced in the parlor, taking small, dainty, ladylike steps while her heart thudded in her chest. In a storm like this Lydia wouldn't be so reckless as to start out on the water, would she? Her husband would make her see sense. Yes, that must be it. They had found shelter on the island and they would be back tomorrow. Yet there was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind that refused to be silenced.

Grandmary felt a slight tug on her skirt. She looked down to see Samantha gazing up at her with childlike awe and a bit of sadness. She knows, thought Grandmary in surprise. "Come here," said Grandmary reaching to take Samantha's hand.

But Samantha jerked away in fright and Grandmary just sighed. She glanced out the window to see . . .

Grandmary threw open the door in the midst of the howling storm. "Ma'am," cried the butler. "You shouldn't go out there."

For once in her life Grandmary didn't follow the proper order of things. "Gard!" she screamed. "Where is Lydia?"

Gard, who was soaking wet from the rain, just shook his head sadly as tears slid down his cheeks. Grandmary collapsed in a faint, the Admiral rushed to her side, and Gard wept bitterly into his hands. Consumed by their own grief, no one was left to hear the cry of five year old Samantha Parkington the surviving family member. "Mother, Father? Where are you?"

Dark days were ahead what with the funeral plans and the very small matter of what would happen to Samantha. The Parkington side of the family never approved of their son's marriage to Miss Lydia Edwards so under no circumstances would they consider taking in Samantha. They refused to even attend the funeral for their only son. On his wedding day to Lydia, his parents shunned him by cutting him out of the family. Not even in death would they now acknowledge him. And they would most certainly not entertain the idea of a little girl with his image and the eyes of the witch he married. So, Mr. Parkington's family was out of the picture completely. That meant the Edwards were the only family Samantha had left. Gard was a young bachelor out traveling the world and pursuing a career in law. It wasn't proper or practical for Samantha to live with him. And that left Grandmary. Even though she was getting on in years, she would not place her beloved granddaughter in a filthy orphanage. Grandmary raised two kids once before, surely, she could do it now. It would bring her pain each day to see the smile on a face that looked so much like her daughter. The loss of Lydia was a grief Grandmary would never recover from. Each day she would mourn as she watched this child grow up without a mother, but each day she would do her duty to bring up this child to the best of her ability. She just wished her beloved husband could be here to help her along the way. With Samantha's future settled, the only task left was the funeral itself.

Five year old Samantha Parkington was trembling when she saw the long line of mourners winding their way into the church. She tried to smile, but instead found herself searching for her parents. It had been a few days since she had last seen them, but Samantha wasn't too worried. This wasn't the first time they left her with Grandmary or a nanny or some kind of servant for a few days while they were off doing something else. She convinced herself that they'd be home soon even though she could sense some kind of sadness in the adults around her. Samantha masked her inner fright with her usual bright cheerfulness. She happily skipped along and hummed as she held Uncle Gard's hand completely oblivious to the somber procession around her. Wherever she went that day she was followed by the mutterings of strangers crying into their handkerchief, "The poor dear, so very young and so very much alone," and, "It was too soon, it was just too soon."

Tear stained faces leered down at her as Samantha was lost in a sea of swishing black skirts and tall black trouser legs. She was suffocating in the sea of people and in a panic, she pushed her way through the crowd. Distracted by their own grief, no one noticed little Samantha Parkington slip away from the crowd and run down the stairs into an empty Sunday school room. The door slowly creaked shut when she heard a voice behind her say, "You'd better find another hiding place because this one is taken."

Samantha jumped as she spun around to see the red headed curls and freckles of a boy her age sitting in the shadows. She was startled to see him, but she boldly asked, "Who are you?"

The boy narrowed his eyes and continued to stuff a piece of candy in his mouth. "What's it to you?" Her big black bow flopped over her bangs into her face. He laughed. "You look dumb."

Samantha crossed her arms. "That's not very nice."

"Neither is this!" the boy tugged at her ribbon pulling her hair in the process.

"Ow!" Samantha wailed. "Stop it!"

"And how are you going to make me?" The boy sneered.

"Like this!" Samantha stomped on his foot with all her might.

"Ow! Stop it!"

Samantha smirked. "And how are you going to make me?"

The boy let go of her ribbon just as Samantha moved off of his foot. They both tumbled backwards to land on the floor. They stared at each other for a moment and then Samantha reached out to touch his curly red hair. She had never seen hair that color before. The boy jerked away, out of reach, but he held out his hand and offered her a piece of candy. Samantha shook her head no and he shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"What are you doing down here all alone?" Samantha asked.

"What are you doing here?" the boy replied.

"I asked first."

"You hiding out from your parents too?" At the word parents, Samantha's lip started to quiver. "You gonna cry like a big baby?" said the boy still chewing the candy.

"I'm not a baby!"

"Then why are you crying?"

Samantha didn't know why, but she knew this boy was mean to ask that question. Before Samantha could formulate a response, a woman's shrill voice called, "Eddie! Edward Troy Ryland!"

The boy shrank back into the shadows like a cowering puppy. Samantha stared at him with wide eyes and didn't dare move a muscle.

The voice called again, "Edward! It's disrespectful to disappear during a funeral service! Come out right now and offer you apologies to-"

The door to the room burst open and the woman stared down at Samantha like an eagle eyeing its prey. "You!"

Both Samantha and Eddie stayed completely still. Samantha didn't think she was doing anything wrong, but she felt a strange weight of guilt. The boy looked defeated. The woman scolded, "Eddie! How dare you disappear on me and hide out with her no less. Come on, both of you," the woman yanked both kids up by their arms and pulled them out into the hallway and up the stairs. Samantha shared a glance with the boy Eddie.

As they came into the room with all the sobbing adults wearing black, Grandmary appeared. "There you are." She took Samantha by the hand. "Gard! Gard, I found her. Samantha don't scare us like that again, we've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Yes ma'am," Samantha whispered. She looked back at Eddie as they went their separate ways. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Their conversation had been far from over.

Grandmary let go of Samantha's hand as Uncle Gard strode towards them. "There's my favorite girl," Uncle Gard said as he picked her up and spun her around.

Samantha laughed in delight until Grandmary slapped Gard on the arm and said, "Now is not the time or the place."

"But mother she's just a child."

"A child who has just lost everything should not be so silly or so carefree," Grandmary snapped.

Without a word, Uncle Gard set Samantha down and solemnly took her by the hand. They walked on through the forest of black swishing skirts and trouser legs of well-meaning well-wishers who leered down at Samantha with false tears and strange comments about her mother being lost. Finally, Samantha couldn't stand it any longer. She let go of Uncle Gard's hand and timidly tugged on Grandmary's skirt. "Where's mother?"

"Not now Samantha!" Everyone in the room paused awkwardly at Grandmary's outburst, but Grandmary continued. "You will be quiet, polite, and behave like a proper girl should in this setting. Enough chatter and singing and acting like everything is the same as it was since-" Grandmary broke off in tears.

Even Samantha's eyes widened. She had never seen her grandmother so upset before.

Grandmary stopped abruptly suddenly seeming to realize what a commotion she was causing. Samantha had no idea. And Grandmary had no idea how to break it to her. But the child had to know. In a softer tone Grandmary added, "Your mother is over there." With a shaking hand, she pointed at the open caskets.

Samantha skipped happily over there to the utmost horror of all the other people attending. Samantha slowed as she neared the odd wooden boxes. She stood between them in utter confusion while the room of mourners watched. Eddie lunged forward, but his mother held him back in a tight embrace.

Samantha saw the lifeless, pale face of her mother with extra makeup caked on to hide the bloated, bruised face of a person who had drowned and then been battered on the rocks. Samantha didn't recoil in horror. She softly began to hum and then sing very loudly. Her mother's eyes never fluttered open. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Samantha began shouting at both bodies, but they never stirred. Samantha kept shouting until her voice turned to sobs. Although Samantha didn't quite understand why they weren't reacting to her, she knew something was very wrong and that she would never hear their sweet voices again.

Uncle Gard was the first one in the crowd to come to his senses. He grabbed her and carried her away before she could make an even bigger scene. Samantha kicked and screamed to no avail while proper ladies gossiped behind their hands. Eddie broke loose of his mother and chased after Uncle Gard who was carrying a thrashing Samantha. Uncle Gard reached the side door and handed Samantha off to a servant.

"No, no, no!" Samantha cried. "I want my mother!"

"Shhh," the servant cooed. "Don't cry, you're making a scene!"

Uncle Gard knelt down so that he was eye level with Samantha. "Today is merely a bad day. Do your best to forget. It's okay to cry in secret, but not here, not now."

Samantha's tearstained face nodded back at him. Uncle Gard straightened and then walked back over to Grandmary. As the servant pulled Samantha away from the proceedings, Eddie came running over with his mother chasing and scolding right behind him. "Here," he said shoving something into Samantha's hand before darting off. It was a piece of gum.

The funeral resumed. No one dared make another comment about the poor orphan Samantha Parkington, no one mentioned the fact that she was still alive. Grandmary remained pale and stiff as a statue. She would harden her heart against the bubbling bright little girl that looked up with her with eyes so much like Lydia. Her only grandchild. There would be no brothers or sisters for Samantha. Grandmary blew her nose in her handkerchief while her friend the Admiral squeezed her hand in comfort. Their family would never be the same again, not after this summer's tragedy, the tragedy that robbed Samantha of her parents.

Rain pounded down on the roof of the carriage and little Samantha stared out into the gray, dreary world. Samantha had only seen Grandmary for holidays and family gatherings when properness must be in place. Grandmary was cold as ice, so unlike her mother that Samantha was terrified of being alone with her for a moment never mind forever. What would it be like living here? Her own house was no longer hers. Suddenly, the coach came to a grinding halt outside of Grandmary's looming mansion. Samantha tumbled out after the adults. They silently moved up the walkway while servants unloaded Samantha's many trunks. Samantha hung back away from the crowd of adults partly from fear and grief gripping her heart, but also from curiosity for a boy her age sat in the mud playing with worms and dirt.

He picked his head up to stare at her. Samantha gasped. It was the boy she had seen a few days ago at the funeral. The boy who had pulled her ribbon and said mean things, but also given her candy in her time of need.

"You!" They both shouted. "What are you doing here?!"

Eddie said, "I live here."

"With Grandmary?" Samantha said in awe.

"Who's Grandmary?" said Eddie. "I live with-" He was about to say, my parents, but didn't want her to freak out like she did at the funeral. Instead he sat back into the mud and began playing with his worms.

"What are you doing?" Samantha asked.

"None of your business."

"Can I help?"

Eddie glared at her. "Girls don't play with mud."

"Says who?" Samantha peered at his mud hole. "It looks fun. Not the bugs, of course, just the mud."

Eddie was a little startled. No girl he knew ever wanted to touch mud. Then he came to his senses. "So, you want to experience mud then, do you?"

Samantha nodded vigorously.

"Then have some!" Eddie picked up a handful of mud and splatted it all over her starched white pinafore.

Her expression clouded over. "That wasn't very nice."

As he looked into those sad mud colored eyes, Eddie Ryland almost apologized. Almost. But then she reached down, scooped up some mud and threw it at him. "Hey," he said, "No fair!"

Samantha giggled. Armed with more mud to throw at him, she ran, and he followed. They threw mud as they chased each other across the perfectly manicured lawn in the pouring rain. Chests heaving in breathlessness, they both plopped down beside each other in the mud. Samantha smiled, truly happy for the first time in days since all the adults around her started mourning. Eddie started to speak, "You know, you're not so-"

"Miss Samantha! Miss Samantha!" a servant called. "Your grandmother is looking for you!"

Samantha's smile fell as the fear set in. "I'd better go."

Eddie nodded and as she walked towards the front door of that great mansion, he threw another wad of mud at her. She stopped, took a deep breath, and turned to run back towards him, but the servant spotted her and gasped. "For land sakes! What in the name of heaven have you been up to?"

Eddie turned back to his bugs with a shrug while Samantha marched forward to present herself to the queen of properness for the very first time. When he was sure Samantha was no longer looking in his direction, Eddie stared at her from a distance thinking very hard. This new girl in town was an interesting character and he'd do well to keep a close eye on her.

"Samantha Parkington!" Grandmary gasped in horror and almost fainted. "What on earth happened to your dress? You haven't been here but two minutes and already you've made a spectacle of yourself.

Mud and bits of caked dirt fell to the spotless plush carpet like the silent tears falling from Samantha's cheek. Her giant hair ribbon drooped sideways over her head. Her sorry appearance didn't help the already strained relationship between grandmother and granddaughter.

"We have rules in this house, and I expect you to follow them from now on," said Grandmary. "Ladies do not, I repeat do not, play in the mud. Especially when they are in mourning, they don't laugh with the neighbor boy as if you hadn't a care in the world."

Not even here a day and yet she'd already disappointed her one of her two only living relatives.

"Are we clear, Samantha?"

What kind of place was this? Her eyes filled with tears and Samantha wished for the millionth time that her mother were here. But she wasn't and she would never be there for Samantha again. Uncle Gard was right. It was best to forget and move on.

"I said," Grandmary repeated her agitation clearly growing stronger by the minute. "I said, are we clear Miss Samantha?"

Samantha dipped into a clumsy curtsy. She knew that much was probably expected of her. She touched the heart shaped locket at her throat, once a gift from her mother but now it held the only reminder Samantha had left of her.

"Yes, Grandmary."

"Good. Now let's have the servants get you cleaned up."

18