A Loving Vow To Be Made (Book 1 of The Loving You Series)

Chapter 6.

Even though it was a beautiful sunny day, the past few minutes have seemed to turn the day into a depressing one. Before Savannah knew where she was walking too, her steps lead her to her and Quinn's old home. As she walked into her mother's old room and saw the tipped over armorer with various pieces of its backside splintered, a shiver ran down her spine, especially when she remembered a particular memory when she just turned fourteen...

It was a sunny day just like this one and she was returning from the general store from getting the weekly grocery items that her mama asked for. She was just around the corner of her house when she heard screams coming from within. Savannah knew what the commotion was about because it seemed like it happened daily in her life. No doubt her father had been drinking again which led him to beat mama, something Savannah couldn't stand to watch because mama had been feeling sick and had becoming weaker as this year passed.

Because of the little money that they had, Savannah couldn't afford to get medicine for her mama's condition which saddened her. As she got closer to the house she began to feel fear creeping up her spine; for the door to the front was standing ajar. That was something her father would never do, because even though when he was in one of his drunken rages and he would beat his wife, he always closed the door. He didn't want anyone from outside to know what was going to happen to the occupants inside. Without further thought Savannah dropped the items she had been carrying and ran through the door only to see not her father like she expected but instead a masked man standing over her mother's still body. Looking around the room for some sort of weapon to defend her mama from the masked man, Savannah was able to spot the fireplace poker. She then crept up behind the man and was about to hit him when the man turned to face her at the last second. Ripping the poker from her grasp, the man pushed her to the ground and began to kick her. But before she knew what was happening, her will seemed to be taken away; there was this sweet cloying scent that made Savannah feel dizzy.

The room began to spin and the light started to get darker. She cried out loud only for her mouth to be covered by the man's hand. Savannah then began to thrash about; unfortunately the thrashing did not work for the man leaned down and hit her hard across the head. Before she collapsed into nothingness Savannah felt a painful sting from the opening between her legs that continued to numb her whole body. As the darkness descended the one thought that entered her mind was the failure she felt for not protecting her mother in time.

Several months later...

Savannah was finally able to wake up! Shying away from the bright light that was coming from the kitchen window, she closed her eyes once again. Suddenly she began to hear sobbing sounds coming from her bedside. From the way she felt; she must have been unconscious for a very long time. But before she could wonder as to what the crying was about, Savannah felt a sharp pain coming from her abdomen. In fear; she placed her hands over her belly, she felt a bulging shape of her abdomen which scared her, then felt something within her move. The pain was becoming worse!

So severe that Savannah felt a great amount of pressure, taking a deep breath, and gripping hard onto the cushion on which she laid; Savannah pushed with all her might. Within a few more moments the pain receded and a crying sound filled the room; this time it sounded like the cries of an infant.

"Savannah, are you awake darling? Honey can you hear me? Its mother."

"I know you feel tired dear but you must promise me something! You must promise me that you won't remember what has happened today and before. I will raise this child as my own and you will continue your youth and will find someone to love in the future. Will you promise me this Savannah?"

In a drugged voice, Savannah promised her mother.

Back to the present...

"Oh mama, don't tell me? No it couldn't be true, Quinn couldn't be mine, and she couldn't possibly be my daughter could she?"

Savannah cried as she held herself; but even through all the denials, she knew that it was true. She always felt sort of like a mother when it came to Quinn. Especially when she held Quinn close to her bosom and rocked her to sleep as an infant. There was no doubt about it; Quinn Eden was in fact her daughter. As Savannah opened her eyes and saw the over-turned dresser, she saw something sticking out of a hole in the back of it. It looked like some sort of journal; crawling on her hands and knees, Savannah slid her hand through the opening and pulled out the book, while doing so she cut her hand on a sharp piece of wood. Forgetting about the wound in her hand, Savannah attentively opened the cover of the book and began reading the first page...

Dear Diary February 6th 1867, New York!

"I made a friend today; her name is Rachel Pearson. I met her at a woman's rights meeting that was being held at the Astor House Hotel. She said that she was the wife of a general store owner in Bannack, Montana. She seemed nice, although she also seemed sad; earlier today she started to cry. I didn't know what I could do for her except grab a hold of her hand and listen as she told me what was bugging her. In her lap she had a small boys clothing draped over her legs and when I got a closer look at it; it had blood stains upon it. I looked up to her and was about to inquire about it when she burst out in tears and leaned against my shoulder. Being a new friend to someone I just met felt strange but I suppose when you're this desperate to confess, the truth, it should be brought to light.

Anyway, as I held her and let her cry she told me the story in between sobs. Apparently she and her four-year old son Jack were here visiting her ailing father and was about to cross the street, when Jack saw a little girl losing her ball. He wanted to retrieve it and was doing so when a speeding carriage slammed into him, killing him upon impact. As I listened tears were streaming down my face for what this poor woman was feeling,

"Oh, Ruth. What am I to do?"

She said as she grasped my hand,

"Timothy, that's my husband. So dotes on our boy and loves him dearly, I don't know how I'm going to tell him that our dear little boy is dead. Do you have any suggestions of how I can do this?"

She pleaded with me. Just then her head snapped up and she stared at me,

"Wait, I thought I heard the maid in this hotel praise you earlier, aren't you Ruth Eden? The very woman who helps the sisters who runs The New York Foundling Home?"

I nodded, and I inhaled, I knew exactly where this conversation was leading too, I bet she was about to ask me if we had any children the same age as her dead son, that nobody wanted at my establishment. Before she could ask, I offered my handkerchief and explained the position of my job. Of course the reasons I was explaining never even fazed her, and I knew she was a desperate woman to be asking for my help so I agreed with her even if it was against my better judgment.

February 8th, 1867, New York Foundling, New York;

Dear Diary.

Two days later, Rachel and I were riding in my carriage on our way to my work as well as my residence to see about a solution I had for her situation. There happened to be a young boy about the same age as her late son, he was dropped off at our door-step about three months before I met Rachel. He didn't have any information on him, just a tag that was sown on the inside stitching of his jacket detailing his name and age.

At first, my husband tried to explain to me that taking in another child from the streets was a very bad idea, since we had no clue about the child's whereabouts. But as usual I convinced my husband that it was our duty to take in all unwanted children that happened to be abandoned and left to die on the streets here in New York. Had I truly understood the situation of Jason's true circumstances before giving him into the care of my friend's keeping, so that he could take the place of their son, I wouldn't have suggested the idea in the first place.

You see diary, Jason was in reality a child who was born and raised for the first three years of his life in the Black Well Lunatic Asylum, to a mother of Terminal Insanity. A condition that also infected Jason. When I found out about his condition from Dr. Evan Chase, the head physician at the Lunatic Asylum, I convinced Jon, to move to Bannack Montana and warn my dear friend.