A Petulant Life part 2

"Violet! Violet Brower, hurry please!" Charlotte, the eldest of the siblings, pleads as she stands at the base of the rickety old staircase. Violet, in the room she shares with her four older sisters, is searching for a warm shawl or coat to wear in the chilly spring air.
"I'm coming. I'm coming." The young girl replies as she grabs the dark blue coat that the girls all shared.

When Violet reaches the base of the stairs Charlotte grasps the younger girl’s hand as they bolt out the door. "Hurry Violet, mama's coming home tonight and I have a million things to do."

The streets are long and narrow. The taller buildings lay shadows along the path. A gust of wind scattered old newsprint and a wayward tumbleweed up the street as a smattering of people dodge around the debris scurrying hurriedly past them. While others on horseback make their way down the thoroughfare. A misguided Model T races past the pair as if in a hurry to find a safer area of town.

“Keep up, child.” Charlotte scolds Violet.

Charlotte, a girl herself at the age of sixteen, treats all her siblings as a mother would a child. As the eldest of the 9 children she took on that role more often than not the past few years.

“We need to catch up with Leo before he heads home.”

Violet tries to match her steps to her sister’s longer strides. Her small stature made her shorter than the majority of her classmates. Her dark brown hair is shoulder length and her hazel eyes are ever so watchful. Her chiseled nose burnt from the recent spring outings to Lake Padden had a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

The young girl coughs as she breathes in the cool air. Charlotte slips her hand in her coat pocket, retrieving a peppermint stick, breaking a piece off and handing it to Violet as she speaks, “Almost there.”

The girls cross over to midtown and head to Chandler's Lumberyard. As they approach the storefront Leo spies his siblings. “Hey! Everything okay?” He questions. Carrying a load of longboards over his shoulder through the yard towards an old truck, dropping the lumber he ties it down. When finished he turns his attention back to his sisters.

“What’s up?” He queries. His eyebrows furrow as it is unusual that Charlotte or any other of the female persuasion would make an appearance at the old lumberyard.

The older girl hurriedly responds, “Father came home for lunch today and said to prepare the house for mama, he got word that she’ll be returning home today. I need you to go down to the lake after your shift and catch fish for supper.”
She waves her hands as if to keep her younger brother from interrupting her. “Whatever you can manage to catch, trout or bass. It doesn't matter which. Mr. Mc Alster brought a box of potatoes and a pound of flour on his last visit. With fish it will be more than an acceptable supper.”

Leo scowles as he adjusts his cap, pushing his hair up into the hat. “Only for you Charlotte, the young boy’s face softened. I don’t know why all the fuss, you know she’ll only stay as long as she needs to. She’s no good and no earthly use to us.” The young boy of fifteen finishes as he stares off into the distance.

Charlotte quickly covers her younger sister’s ears before she answers. “That will be enough from you, Leo Kenney. She may stay this time if she feels welcome. No more of this talk, especially in front of Violet.”
Leo shakes his head as he walks away. “I’ll borrow the spare pole and pail in the shed behind the lumber yard. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

And with that the sisters turn and find their way home.

The remainder of the afternoon is spent cleaning the simple abode. Charlotte, an expert at setting a plan into action and executing it to its completion, rounding up and then directing those within hearing distance. “Gloria, I need you!” Charlotte calls as a younger girl of fourteen came through the sitting room and into the makeshift kitchen with Sonny in tow(who at the age of three was the youngest of the siblings).

Placing the young boy on the nearest chair Gloria declares, “He scrubbed up pretty good. Don’t you think so?” Charlotte turns from the white metallic basin as she finishes wiping down the final tin plate placing it on a tattered towel. As she pulls her hair back into a ponytail and removes the cotton apron, her eyes survey the young boy's appearance.

At the age of three Sonny is the youngest of the siblings. His full given name is Wellington Charles Kenney, but everyone calls him Sonny. His blonde curly ringlets were always topsy-turvy and his brown eyes gleamed with mischief. His older siblings found him a source of entertainment.

Reaching into a basket atop the buffet, Charlotte grabs a small red apple and hands it to her brother. “You are such a good looking young man. You clean up good. Now stay that way.” Smiling, she straightens his collar.

Sonny replies matter of factly, “I’m not good looking, I’m handsome.” Taking a large bite of the apple he jumps off the chair and runs towards the stairs.

Gloria laughs and yells after him, “Who has been filling your head with nonsense?”
Margret and Buddy burst through the door. “Mrs. Swanson gave me one tomato, two onions and another basket of apples.” Margret announces as she carries them to Charlotte as if she is bringing a great treasure.

Margret at the age of nine falls in the line as the sixth child and she is always a source of constant chatter whether anyone was listening or not. Her hair lighter than her siblings was always worn in braids and twisted around her head framing her slender face.

Mrs. Swanson, an elderly widow who lives in midtown had taken Margret under her wing and the young child was blossoming under her tutelage, and is quickly becoming the woman’s companion of sorts, stopping by the Swanson house no less than twice a week on her way home from school.

Buddy spends his Saturdays at the local newspaper office as an apprentice typesetter for the Sunday paper. He earns fifty cents a week and proudly he lays a fifty cent piece on the table each week next to his older sister.
Charlotte placed the produce in the bowl on the buffet and the fifty cent piece in a tin on the shelf next to the stove as she quietly whispers, “Manna from heaven.”

Violet sweeps the sitting room floor creating more dust than the disposing of it. After a concerted effort she turns her attention to polishing the sparse furniture, (a rustic buffet, a small writing desk and mismatched chairs) dispersed about the room.

Satisfied with what was accomplished, Violet steps outside and finds her way to an old rosemary bush and proceeds to pick a handful of branches. After filling an old mason jar (that had been left next to the old water bucket) with water she places the long stems in the jar returning to the house where she places the rosemary on top of the writing desk. Charlotte had taught her that the fragrance of the rosemary somewhat masks the more unseemly odors of the old barn floor.

When the tasks are complete she sits down on the old wooden crate out of sight of the others and listens as she tries to absorb the day's events.

Saturdays are alway busy around the Kenney household but the excitement in the air confuses her.

It has been a year or so since mother’s last appearance… and in the short time Violet’s memory of her mother has grown foggy at best. The sharpest and less troublesome of memories was of her mother singing… she had always thought it was the sound that angels must make. Her older sisters had described her voice as a nightingale.There was a richness in her voice that even her young ears took notice of.

Yet the greater part of her recollection of mother was vexing in the least, filling her head with dread.

At mother’s last appearance, father had stood in the sitting room when his wife’s shadow crossed over the door’s threshold, he stared at her for a brief moment and declared, “Edna, I will not have another mouth to feed in this house. This is not my doing or my child you carry. As soon as you have given birth you may stay as long as you choose, but not the infant.”

She had laughed in a mocking way, “What makes you think this isn’t your child?” “What proof do you have?” “What will the neighbors say about a man who would deny his offspring?”
“The neighbors be damned. They know your character and the company you keep.” He had responded.
Violet, who had been watching from the floor near the buffet, crawled between the man and woman, standing up shielding her father as her mother raised her hand to slap him. “Stop!” the young girl yelled, “Don’t hurt my daddy.”
Charlotte rushed into the room and pulled Violet from between the adults. She whispered in the child’s ear as she carried her upstairs, “This matter is none of your concern, child. Come get ready for bed. Everything will be sorted out by morning.”

“I don’t know what good will come of this.” the young girl muttered as her thoughts came back to the day's events.

Charlotte called Albert and Herbert in from the back lot that lay behind the barn. Before they entered the house Gloria ordered them to remove their boots. Silvia, the youngest girl at the age of five followed them in. She was forever the boys shadow and clearly the tomboy of the family.

“Come wash up, you three and set the table for supper.” Gloria directs as she sits at the table peeling potatoes while Charlotte makes dough for biscuits.

Charlotte looked up in panic, “The stove! Buddy hurry, get some wood and light the stove!”

By four in the afternoon supper is all but complete. The final task left is the frying of the fish which Leo had in hand when he walked through the door at about quarter after.

The family depleted their staples for this meal. But Charlotte did not fret. Mr. Mc Alister was due for a visit early Monday morning and he always brought enough supplies to feed the family for a week. As she begins to fry the fish her eyes watch the door intently, hoping she will soon catch a glimpse of her mother.

Father arrives at 4:30 and as he washes up the children gather around to talk of the day's events. Drying his hands he directs Charlotte, “If she is not here by 5:00 we will eat. There is no sense in holding dinner when we have no idea when she will arrive.”
Charlotte begins to protest, “But we have worked so hard to welcome her.”

“A roof over her head should be welcoming enough.” Shaking his head ending the conversation. The smell of alcohol on his breath made the older girl uneasy as she resigned to his wishes.

By 10:00pm all the children are in bed. Everyone is asleep but Charlotte. She lay on her makeshift cot next to Violet listening to any sign of her mother's arrival. Thirty minutes pass before she hears the squeaking of the front door as it opens and fathers voice acknowledging the long awaited visitor.

Slowly, she sits up and crawls across the thin floorboards. The slats on the flooring have gaps in them. And if one lay on the floor they can see downstairs. With her cheek pressed against the floor Charlotte peers to the floor below.

Leo Kenney stood in front of his wife blocking his oldest daughter’s view. “Once again you never disappoint.” Mockery clearly in his voice. “Again, you are welcome to stay, but I will not allow another child in this home.”

Father shifts his stance away from the woman and Charlotte has a clear view of her mother. She draws in a sharp breath, it is clear that her mother is with child again. By the looks of it she must be seven to eight months along.

Crawling back to her cot, the young teenager covers herself as she begins to weep quietly. All her hopes dashed. The tears fell for a young girl's innocence lost and the harshness of a world that has entrapped her. Never again would she put hope in her mother. For too long she had thought someday Edna would return and be a mother to her children and in turn Charlotte would no longer have to carry that responsibility on her shoulders.

As the next few months passed Violet observed from a distance. Even at seven years old she possessed within her a fiery spirit, but not in an overt way, it was more like a below the surface kind of simmering and yet it was inflamed when she faced the unattached coolness of her mother.

The girl's pride will never permit her to attempt a connection she might otherwise pursue. She watches her mother’s uneasiness around the family… The older woman paces an ungodly amount of the time much like a wild animal would when it had been entrapped.

As the birth of the child neared, Edna could barely stand her confinement, she paced the kitchen floor as she rubbed her belly. She snapped at an ever watchful Violet, “WHAT?” “Everytime I turn around you are staring at me, child. Do I have three eyes? Two noses? Please go and leave me in peace.”

Violet turned without response, planting herself on a small stool in the sitting room but positioning herself so that her mother was still in full view. No one would tell her to leave until she chose to herself. The young girl began to wonder if her mother even remembered any of her children’s names as she always addressed them as “child”.
Edna knows the child's eyes are still fixed on her and somehow it unnerves her.

With school out for the summer harvest Violet found herself quite often studying her ill-suited mother. Somewhere deep down she enjoyed seeing the woman squirm.
Besides, she wanted to get a glimpse of the baby before it was sent away like the other babe was nearly a year ago. Whisked away with nary a glance from any of the family members.

Violet was certain the other babe had been a girl but the infant was put out of the house before she could be sure. No one ever spoke of the child and she was confident that this infant would be dealt with in the same manner.

This time she is determined to know… “Someday.” she thought, “Someday I will find these lost babies and …” Well she wasn’t certain what she would do after she found them. Her young mind had not thought that far ahead.

Edna gave birth to a baby girl in early July. Violet inserted herself into the care of the infant just so she could memorize each detail of her younger sister’s first hours of life... and maybe someday... someday she might know her sister again. The infant is fair skinned with rosy cheeks, her hair dark and wavy and her eyes a deep blue. Days after the birth the tiny babe is relinquished and adopted out to a middle aged childless couple. No information was exchanged and the name of the couple remained confidential.

A week of recovery and Edna was up and gone. It would be years before the children would lay eyes on her again, with the exception of Violet.


The cool rainy spring turned into warm summer days in Bellingham.

After their mother’s departure the family fell into a summer routine. Each Monday Charlotte awaited the arrival of Mr. Mc Alister and his wife Pearl. They were an older couple who seemed deeply concerned about the wellbeing of the Brower family. Violet was clearly Mrs. Mc Alister’s favorite and she always brought a peppermint stick for the young girl.

During their most recent visit they brought with them two pounds of flour, a crate of red apples and a wheel of cheese. “Next week I will have some lard, a dozen eggs and possibly a crate of oranges.” the older man stated as he placed the newly delivered staples on the small kitchen table.

Mr. Mc Alister worked for the government social service office and it was his job to find the neediest of families in town and bring them what supplies were available. Sometimes they were seconds or worse but to the poorest of the community they were grateful for whatever they could lay their hands on.

After they enquired after the family and found them thriving, Mr.and Mrs. Mc Alister took their leave and Charlotte went about the kitchen parsing the food for the week ahead. Taking note that she had a few potatoes in the bin left from the previous week. That evening the family dined on fresh bread and sliced cheese.

Summer brought with it a more abundant choice of staples.The older boys routinely fishing the streams and lakes and a few of the farmhands would share their seconds in the harvesting of the crops. If the Brower children were willing to glean the fields behind the farm hands.

With school out of session Gloria assists Charlotte with the ongoing management of the family as well as taking in mending from different segments of the community.

In the hours of mending she touched the differing fabrics some finer than others, she would daydream of a better life. A proper life, where no one would look down on her or her family name. Gloria took note of which clients were genteel towards her and she made a concerted effort to stitch their wares in the most detailed proficient way. As she saw it, it was within her grasp to make a better life for herself, she just needed to be ready when the opportunities presented themselves.

Buddy worked full time at the newspaper for the summer. He has quickly moved from an apprentice to a journeyman. Mr Whitehert, the paper's editor, is already preparing the young boy for a future reporter. “You are as smart as a whip, young man… you just have to focus more… The business of living is not for the frivolous minded.” Mr Whitehert would repeatedly state.

The middle aged man was well aware of the young boy’s reputation about town as a reckless dare devil of sorts, but he saw potential in Buddy.

Mid August the younger children, with the help of Charlotte, made a poor man's cake (in other households it was known as depression cake) for Buddy’s fifteenth birthday. The celebration was simple without frivolity or gifts but Buddy was content with a large slice of cake and plans to spend the following Monday fishing and swimming with his buddies Thomas and Peter.

An overcast morning is a fisherman’s dream and Buddy heads out before sunrise to Lake Padden to meet his friends with a sack lunch in hand picking two red apples as he passes by the Wilson’s apple orchard.


Buddy, Thomas and Peter headed to the northshore hoping to find a more isolated area to set up camp for the day. The boys had settled into a small cove partly shaded by large Douglas Firs and Western Red Cedars.

The boys baiting their hooks, cast their lines into the placid lake propping their homemade poles up with sticks they had found along the way. Mornings and sunsets were always the best time for catching but today was more about hanging out then what their catch for the day would be.

As the morning wore on the overcast skies gave way to the August heat and leant itself to crowds of youth heading to the lake congesting the shoreline as the youth looked to find relief from the summer temperatures.


The teens sat as they pulled out their lunches. Thomas’s mother sent fried chicken with him, enough for all three boys and Peter had potato salad to share as well.

Buddy tilts his head sheepishly, “Sorry guys all I have is bread and cheese and a couple apples.”

His friends laugh as Thomas reassures him. “No worries, It’s your birthday, we have plenty.”

Peter nods as he pulls out a smaller paper bag out of a larger one.
“I got something to top it off with.” Winking he pulls out a mason jar filled with gin. “Happy birthday my friend.”

Buddy nervously looks over his shoulder and along the shoreline to see if there are any nearby observers. Bootlegging was prominent in the community but was looked down by society in general especially for under age consumption.

“Wow!” Buddy responds as he straightens his shoulders before he reaches for the moonshine.

The young teen revels in personal challenges and without another thought he removes the lid and takes the first swig. His face winces as he swallows hard, nearly gagging on the alcohol.

“Dang! That’s some rough stuff.” he declares, passing the jar to Peter. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

The friends hurriedly polish off the contents of lunch, topping off the meal with the contents of the mason jar before turning their attention to their fishing poles which seem to be abandoned by the trio.
As the boys contemplate whether to continue the pursuit of a catch or to discard the poles in lue of a swim in the cool waters.
A shriek and a burst of giggling fills the air distracting the trio.

Across the lake a group of teen girls from Bellingham High gathered as the sun drifted into the western sky.
The inebriated boys began challenging each other to be the first to swim across the lake to the group of females.

“Go ahead, birthday boy. Take the dive. I think I see Kathrine and friends sitting on a blanket across the shore.” Thomas teases Buddy as he points over towards the tree lines on the westside.

Buddy looks about the shoreline sheepishly as his one wish has been to catch Katherine’s attention and his buddies are well aware of his crush on the young girl who in turn liked to poke fun at his predicament.

Her dark brown eyes and golden hair had captivated the young boy for the past few years. They had shared glances between classes in the hallways of the high school but other than a quick smile they had never exchanged words. Buddy was well aware of her family status which left him intimidated and hesitant.

Kathrine came from a well respected family whose fortune had been lost in the WallStreet crash. The family was able to hold on to their home and still maintained a station of respect amongst the community. The Brower family on the other hand were considered ne’er-do-wells.

The gin has given Buddy a sense of confidence or as the locals would say liquid courage he would not normally embrace, for swimming hasn’t been his strong suit.

“Watch me!” He responds as he pulls his shirt up over his head and throws it on a nearby log.

And with that he wades into the water diving in at waist high.

As he swims nearly 400 yards to the middle of the lake the friends realize Buddy is in trouble. Struggling he disappears beneath the surface of the lake and then reappears for only a moment, gasping for air and flailing as he struggles to stay above the surface. After a few seconds he submerges beneath the waters once again.
The lake water became glassy against the summer air and Thomas and Peter realized their friend was not going to reemerge.
Frantically the boys jump in the waters and begin to search for their friend.

The yells for Buddy echoes across the lake making all the lakeside community aware of the urgency of the moment. Some stand in frozen horror while others jump in the cool waters to join in the rescue.

The sun had fully set before a small group of rescuers found Buddy's lifeless body.



A gathering of about 20 older and younger men pounded on the door of the Kenney residence. Buddy’s body wrapped in a thick blanket was carried by the group of men.

Charlotte upon hearing the pounding and the men’s voices opened the door.
Mr. Whitehert was the first to speak.
“Charlotte, we need to speak to your father. It is of the most urgency”

The older girl ran to the makeshift kitchen.

“Mr. Whitehert is insistent that he speak with you.”

Charlotte urged her father to come to the door and hear out what seemed to be something of gravity.

As Leo reached the threshold Mr. Whitehert spoke again.

“Mr. Kenney, could you please step outside? We need to talk.”

Leo glanced at Charlotte as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.