Trinli Ebersole 1.
Baltimore, Maryland 1897
“Mr. Byrne, I have been more than fair in accommodating your predicament. However, the health status of your mother has little bearing on my business other than serving as an impediment to collecting a debt you incurred voluntarily. You have an obligation to my shop in the amount of $18.”
“$18! No, that can’t be right, sir. That would mean…I would have had to purchase—”
“103 pounds of cheese, Mr. Byrne. You’ve consumed 103 pounds of various cheeses in a month.” My father’s voice does not rise in volume, nor does his tone bely the annoyance he feels when dealing with this customer.
I peek around the corner, my lip curling on its own at the sight of Mr. Darragh Byrne. A man as well into his forties as he is into his drink. And cheese, apparently. How does someone incur a debt of $18 from cheese alone? His pockmarked skin and large belly disgust me, though not as much as the way he leers at me when I wrap his purchases. I feel his gaze as if it were his dirty pudgy hands, a shiver traveling down my spine ominously every time.
“I refuse to pay as you’ve sold me tainted goods. I am backed up something fierce when I am normally as regular as the cock crowing.”
“Perhaps you are experiencing difficulties because of the 103 pounds of cheese you have consumed. May I suggest a physician to aid in your relief…after your debt is settled with my establishment.”
I let out a sigh when Darragh leans against the countertop, obviously settling in for a discussion. “Well, I was thinking,” Oh my, I imagine that hurts him. “I’m looking for a companion. A wife. I’m not getting any younger and I’d have my family line continued before the good Lord calls me home. A proposition: I’ll take your daughter Trinli and the goats in the back off your old, er, seasoned hands and the rest of your stock,” he motions around the shop and my stomach curdles, “in exchange for my debt forgiven and the dowry such a lass like Trinli would be owed.”
I snort quietly despite the sickening sensation crawling over my skin at just the thought of that man touching me. I shake my head and wait for my father to laugh, yell, throw the man out of his shop for even uttering such absurdity. But he does not, instead, he tilts his head to the side in thought and I watch my entire future blink out of existence with the curt nod of his head. No. Please, no.
“Return tomorrow at half past 10 and I will give you my answer.”
Darragh eyes my father with skepticism. “If I return tomorrow as you have said, I will not be walking into a shop full of brass to send me up the river, will I?”
If my father has any love for me that is exactly what will happen.
“We can settle this like reasonable men, Mr. Byrne.”
“Aye.” Darragh raps his knuckles on the countertop and grins. His yellowed teeth cause my insides to flip unpleasantly. “Till tomorrow, sir.” The bells on the door announce his departure,however, it does nothing to settle my heart as it beats wildly in my chest.
“You may come out now, Trinli.” My father calls out, shuffling papers in front of him. When he glances at me, I swallow hard at his expression. “Your mother and I will speak on this after supper. In the meantime,” he breaks eye contact, dropping his gaze to the counter, “you should begin packing your belongings. A conversation with your sisters would not go amiss to educate you on what to expect as a bride. I am sure Anna will have room for you at her table this evening. If you hurry, you can help her prepare the meal and assist with the children.”
“Father—” he raises his hand to halt my plea. Tears fill my eyes; however, I remain respectfully quiet.
“Your mother and I are tired, Trinli. We want to rest. I started this shop over 30 years ago to provide for my growing family. We raised our children and gave them a good start in life. We were ready to retire, spend our golden years with our grandbabies. Unfortunately, your mother fell pregnant unexpectedly and you were born, prolonging our responsibilities.” He sighs wearily. I have no compassion for his plight. Unexpectedly? I may not know much, yet I know that for my mother to fall pregnant it was most assuredly expected as a possibility when they chose to couple. “I’ll see you settled and off my mind. You are the last in the house. The shop is not doing as well as it used to, sales are declining and my heart is not in it as it used to be. You’ll marry him, take the goats with you, and your mother and I will wipe our hands of it all.”
“You have already decided? I thought you would discuss this with mother—”
“I do not foresee your mother disagreeing with my decision.”
“You would sell me to a lush nearly three decades my senior who cannot handle his cheese, let alone pay for it?” I have never spoken to my father in this way. In my 15 years, I have always been a dutiful daughter. I have tried to minimize the strain on both my mother and father given the advanced ages in which they had me. I will not hold my tongue on this matter. “What kind of life do you imagine I will have with him?”
“Trinli,” his voice hardens. I am wearing his patience thin. This is my future though. How can I not speak up when he is making decisions that will affect me for the rest of my life? “I am too tired to care much. You are of age with an education and a strong work ethic. I’ve done my duty to you and society. I am done.”
“A strong work ethic? This is not a position in a company, father. You intend for this man to be my husband, and I have no say in the matter? How could you—” I am as shocked as my father when my head snaps violently to the side from the force of his palm. He has never raised a hand to me. He did so now and I do not know what to do.
“Tomorrow at half past 10, Father Hans will preside over your wedding to Darragh Byrne. I expect you to be well rested and well informed on what is expected of you as a wife…and eventually a mother. Your brothers will have your belongings and your dowry packed so you may depart immediately after the ceremony.”
“Father.” I whisper hoarsely, my eyes flooding with fear and anger and so much sadness it threatens to drown me in perpetual sorrow. He gives me his back and effectively ends the conversation. I let the tears fall as I leave the shop and walk the streets until I arrive at Anna’s home. It requires all my available energy to lift my hand to knock on the heavy wooden door. It opens moments later, my harried looking sister looks uponme with momentary confusion, then relief, quickly followed by concern.
“Trinli? What has happened?”
“I have been sold to a constipated drunkard to pay off his cheese debt.”
Trinli 2.
Fell’s Point, Baltimore 1900
I pause in mending another set of work pants in a long pile of ripped and overworn clothing. My eyes stray to my son, only a year and a half old, while I rub my work-roughened hands along my swollen belly. Lips tipping into a soft smile, I watch him toddle around clumsily in the tiny sitting room of our tiny apartment in the run-down tenement building we’ve occupied since we married.
