The Misplaced Goddess
Serial Novel, Prologue
By Penelope Anne Bartotto (Orphanage~Valentine's Day~Murder)
Emily Scalise was a transplant to the area, she hoped she had hightailed it out of Chicago fast enough that she would be able to find a job. Thanks to her uncle the Scalise name and family equated to mud effective St. Valentine’s Day, 1929. Damn idiot had to be the big man and get involved with that crook Capone, and was now going to take the fall for murder, make that pure madness via massacre. Her papa had rushed to the train station as soon as he heard his brother bragging at the weekly family dinner. She was sent north into Wisconsin, her parents had went west, location unknown for a set amount of time, and her brother was sent south to Louisiana to work with an uncle of her mother’s. Emily had very few skills, but was very good with children, so she hoped to find work at a local orphanage. They needed a maid, willing to work in both the laundry and kitchen area. She could manage those things well enough as they were commonplace activities in her life. She kept her fingers crossed as she needed a job that would provide room and board, and soon. The meager amount of money her papa had been able to send her north with was all too soon going to be gone. She walked up to the front door of the Elizabeth Bashford-McMillan Orphans Home, and knocked.
A pair of brilliant blue eyes slightly shaded under golden curls was peeking up at her from the bushes next to the door. She was about to turn to talk to the wee lad, when the door was whipped open.
“Aye, what you be needing lassie?” A broad shouldered woman in a gray ticking smock, with a stained apron asked her.
“I am here to seek a job, ma’am. The porter at the hotel said you was hiring for the kitchens and laundry.” Emily said in her best diction, though her Italian accent was clear whenever she spoke.
“Aye, we be a hiring, you’ll need to be speakin’ with Ms. Gwen though, and she aren’t here.”
Emily shrugged with fatigue, the idea of another long walk out here, not the least bit appealing. Her eyes caught sight of the wee bugger still hiding in the bushes. He looked both frightened and mischievous, and he had a tiny finger placed to his lips. The internationally known sign for hush.
Emily used her well learned street wiles and turned back to the woman at the door, who was none to pleasant. “You look a wee taxed, could I be of some help, until Ms. Gwen returns?” She asked winking at her blonde rag-a-muffin tucked even deeper in the bushes.
Margret looked the wee lassie up and down. She could see no reason she wouldn’t be a useful gal to help around the place, and she was in sore need of help at the moment. Somehow, she’d misplaced that little devil Samuel and the moody girl was having another one of her fits. “Aye, come in, you can help me with these wee brats, and not so wee ones too. Prove your worth and I’ll tell Ms. Gwen to hire you on the spot. As I’s ready to walk out the door and never look back.”
Emily followed the woman into the halls of the home, the sounds of children echoed through the large house, and the smell of burnt bread hung heavy in the air. The home was a grand one, built for something other than an orphanage she wagered, but it seemed to suit the need. She followed the grumpy woman down a long hall, past a staircase, and into a the dining area. Children were scattered about the room, some playing, some staring into space, and some drawing on a large piece of butcher’s paper, that smelled strongly of blood and meat. Whatever, she thought, you did what you must, with what you could.
“Make yourself useful lassie and help me keep these nippers in this area, I’ve lost one of the brats, and another is having a fit, that needs to be settled. I’m Margret, and you’re?”
“Emily, Ems to most though.”
“Good luck Ems.”
Emily popped back to the front porch and looked into her blue eyed friend with a kind smile. “Are you hiding?” She asked. He shook his blonde curls and gave her a lopsided grin. “Will you come out and play with me?” She asked reaching out for him. He giggled, a sweet tinkling melody that was a blessing to the ears, as he jumped on the porch and grabbed Emily’s hand. She walked her new friend back to the main area. As she was hanging up her coat, and tucking her carpetbag on a shelf, she was startled by the clamor coming from above.
“Never you mind that noise, miss, that’s just Ana, she has fits.” A young man’s voice broke into her thoughts.
She turned and was greeted by a fine looking boy of about twelve standing a few feet from her. He was well groomed and dressed rather nice for a typical waif. “Hello,” she said, ”And you are?"
“Gabriel miss. I thought you was my new master’s mistress. I’m to be apprenticed today to Master Paine, the lumber man.” His words rushed out, a mixture of excitement and fear. “I’m exposed to go today.”
“Supposed to, Gabriel, supposed to. Why don’t we find you some thing to keep your mind busy, and before you know it Mr. Paine will be here.” She said ushering him to a table with some books on it.
Margret charged through the house and was fuming that she couldn’t find that scamp Samuel. Anaka was in the hands of Doc Webster yet again. He was the only one who could help end the fits when they started. As she came to the dining area, she realized it was rather quiet, she turned the corner expecting to find chaos and no nippers. To her shock all of the nippers, including that blonde demon Samuel, were settled around that lassie, who was telling a story. They seemed spellbound, and peaceful. The peace was suddenly shattered as a shriek pierced the air, the children shivered, some clutching each other in fear, some glancing up at the ceiling.
“What was that?” Emily yelped.
In unison many voices, whispered… “Anaka.”
It was at that time that an older woman, dressed in a fine, but older fashion, demure black dress appeared.
“Settle children, Margret should you not be readying them for their afternoon chores? And who might you be young lady?” She said turning to face Emily.
“That be Ems, Ms. Gwen, she be looking for work, and I thought she could wait for you here.” Margret stammered.
“Thank you Margret, but I was speaking to her, not you.” Ms. Gwen Stanley stated emphatically.
Emily reached out her hand, and stated as calmly as she could, “Emily Scalise, ma’am. I am looking for work, and was told you needed help.”
Gwen Stanley looked down at the hand offered, and then thoroughly examined the young lady before her. Italian for sure, not from around here, too refined to be running from the law, but street smart, not book smart. “Come along to my office, we’ll discuss the details of your employ here.” She stated walking off.
Emily let her hand drop from the air it had been suspended within for what seemed like hours. She knew this woman had scrutinized her, she felt the judgmental scouring scrape her soul. She had passed, and for that she was grateful.
“Have a seat Miss Scalise, it is Miss correct?” Ms. Stanley asked with a look that could curdle milk.
“Yes, ma’am. Not married, never been.”
“What brings you to us, my dear?”
“Work. I be a hard worker, am good with laundry, cooking, sewing…”
Ms. Stanley raised her hand to stop Emily from prattling on. “I want to know what brings you to this area dearest, I can tell you are not from around here. I need to know you are not running from the law, a spurned love, an angry owner, or a family feud. I do not like trouble and will not bring it to these doors.”
“My family decided to leave Chicago, we went our separate ways, to find jobs, and maybe lives beyond the gangs of the city.”
“You are Italian, are you running from Mr. Capone, or someone out to get him?”
Emily drew in a deep breath, she could lie or tell the truth. Which would be the safest bet? She went with the truth. “Ma’am my uncle is a gangster, a low life scumbag who will be the ruin of the family name. My papa knows that he was involved in something recently and he decided it would be safer for us if we got out of the kettle before the fire was set. We’re good people, work hard, and live clean. We can’t choose our family though, and that’s what made me come here.”
She gave this speech with confidence and looked Ms. Stanley in the eyes, which Gwen had to admire. The girl had moxy, and a strength that was clear. “How much schooling have you had?” She asked the girl.
“Through the eighth grade officially, though I read a lot, and have taught myself things I need to survive.”
“You can read? That’s a plus, seems hard to find people who can do that these days around here. Immigrants and all that.” Ms. Stanley stated without thinking it might sting her young employee. “Pay is $2.00 per week, with room and board. You will work with the children each day on reading, in addition to kitchen duties. Is this agreeable for you?”
“Yes, very.” Emily said shrugging with relief and smiling. “I can start today.”
“I guessed as much. Tommy told me I would be seeing you today.” Emily looked at her with a puzzled expression. “The porter at the Athern Hotel, he’s my nephew,” she said with a hint of a smirk. “He guides those he thinks will be a good fit to me. No need to see a good girl turned out on the streets, and dealing with hell if it can be stopped. We may be a small town in compare to Chicago, but we still have the problems. We’re open to all children, big or small.” She said ending the interview.
A number of weeks passed at the orphanage and Ems was settling in nicely. The children loved her, and Margret preferred that. Margret was not a people person, but she was a fine cook. Time in the kitchen was enjoyable and often included the young girls. The goal of the Children’s Home since it had opened in 1912, was to help the youth find good homes or learn a trade that would allow them to find jobs. A large portion of the land was a farm, and each of the children had chores in the fields, or around the house. The laundress was an Irish lass, a tad younger than Emily. Katherine was a spitfire, but she made sure that the home was always clean, right down to the sheets. The staff was completed by three brothers who helped manage the farm area, Adolph, Franz, and Henriech. They also helped to protect the children and women. Reigning over all was Ms. Gwen Stanley. She wanted all to think she was a mean woman, but she had a heart of gold. Widowed at a young age, she found that working at the Elizabeth
Bashford-McMillan Orphan’s Home answered the prayers she screamed in her grief. The children were the ones she would never have with her husband, and the house was a home that wasn’t haunted by images of her Charles.
Sadly the orphanage was haunted by one thing. The strange child that resided in the home, always kept in her room on the third floor, hidden away from prying eyes, and the other children. Not even all of the staff knew of the mysterious girl in the attic as some called her. The waif was an enigma. Her rich chestnut hair was a bundle of adorable curls. Her eyes a glistening golden green. Her tiny frame, adorable but strong. Her smile a magnet that called to a person’s soul. All who knew her loved her, but she carried a strange secret that none had yet to be able to explain. She never aged.
She was the first resident of the home, Mrs. Bashford-McMillan’s first charge. Her room was a luxury suite in comparison to the rest of the quarters. It was also her prison. She wasn’t safe. Something chased her in her dreams, which led to the wicked fits that only Dr. Webster could calm her through. They came each month, and the doctor had treated her since the day in 1914 when Mrs. Bashford-McMillan had called upon him.
Doc Webster was a young man when he had come to the territory that became the state of Wisconsin. He had been known by another name then, and by many others over the centuries. He had joined a group of French explorer’s led by Nicolas Perrot, and forged his way into the area that would eventually over time become Wisconsin. He went where he needed to be. Near the child. Her parents had entrusted him to be her guardian, her protector on Earth. They knew she would not be like normal human babes and they knew that they must appoint someone to be there for her always. As gods they had the power to grant immortality, though it was not a gift oft given to a human. He had been a faithful servant to them, both as a healer and spiritual guide to those who would worship them. They were a powerful couple, with a family that was known to draw attention to themselves. When the wee one was born, she was so precious that her parents knew they had to protect her from her siblings. They were not beyond jealous acts of murderous rage.
Thus, the day after young Anaka was born, her mother wrapped her in a beautiful silken cloth the color of midnight, covered in golden stars. Her father nestled the golden amulet in the box, and sealed it with powerful spells of protection. It would only open when their daughter reached an age of maturity. Only nobody knew when that day would come. They had granted Tepemkau eternal life, when they knew a child was to be born. He knew his role, he knew that he was to protect her until the time came that she would return to claim her rightful place beside her mother and father.
Anaka was a precious child, and Tepemkau cared for her well. At times she was his own child, at times he found a caretaker for her. A year into their hiding he realized that she was not aging. She was a mere babe for over five hundred years.
He married in 561, a beautiful red haired woman, who embraced Anaka as her own. Eibhleann was of a Celtic tribe, and knew her husband as Latharn. He had arrived on the shores of there lands with fellow Celts who were escaping war with the strangers that had come to their lands. He was a wise one and had the gift of healing. Many a father wanted him for their daughter’s husband, but it was Eibhleann who won
his heart, as she readily accepted the dark haired child he brought with him. Slowly Anaka blossomed, and over a span of twenty years she aged to approximately three in human standards. Eibhleann thought she had been blessed by the stars with a fairy child, and Latharn allowed her to believe in the magic. He loved her, and stayed with her until her death. Travel was difficult in the early centuries, and keeping a magical child hidden even harder.
Salem in the New World had been a most frightful time, even though he was a local priest. It was then he had stolen into Canada with his charge. Moving was a curse of necessity, but the growing population in what was now America, was a gift. He married again, and the love of his Marie helped Anaka grow more, and she now resembled a human child of the age of five. Wisconsin was an out of the way place, and he grew to like the region. He moved around the beautiful lakes, and settled in many areas, watching his young charge.
He had met the charming Mrs. Bashford-McMillan just as she approached the city council about turning her husband’s home into a refuge for children. He was the local doctor, she a wealthy widow. Many thought they would fall in love, but Elizabeth had loved, and lost. Her heart was taken, until she met Anaka. The one thing she had never been blessed with was children.
Shortly after she opened the doors of The Elizabeth Bashford-McMillan Home for Children, Doctor Edward Webster brought her the first resident, a waif he claimed had wandered into his offices, injured and in need of care. Only he and Elizabeth knew that Anaka had always been there. Elizabeth treated the little girl as her own and Anaka flourished, and grew, but ever so slow. When Elizabeth passed away in 1918 Anaka was old enough physically and mentally to comprehend the loss, and she soon started to have what he thought were mere fits of hysteria. He tried many methods to calm her, but even pass flora incarnta, which was helping many did little to calm the child. He had resorted to the use of an opiate to calm her.
Elizabeth had taken excellent care to ensure that Edward and Anaka would have a place to stay for as long as possible. Her will stipulated that the property was to remain a home for children for two hundred years after her death. Anaka was a part of the package, and each director of the facility was selected by Dr. Webster. He would ensure that she received the needed care.
1929, the world was going to hell in a hand basket to him, but the time was coming, Edward Webster
would soon need to disappear and so to would the child in the attic, Anaka, the
misplaced goddess.
Serial Novel, Prologue
By Penelope Anne Bartotto (Orphanage~Valentine's Day~Murder)
Emily Scalise was a transplant to the area, she hoped she had hightailed it out of Chicago fast enough that she would be able to find a job. Thanks to her uncle the Scalise name and family equated to mud effective St. Valentine’s Day, 1929. Damn idiot had to be the big man and get involved with that crook Capone, and was now going to take the fall for murder, make that pure madness via massacre. Her papa had rushed to the train station as soon as he heard his brother bragging at the weekly family dinner. She was sent north into Wisconsin, her parents had went west, location unknown for a set amount of time, and her brother was sent south to Louisiana to work with an uncle of her mother’s. Emily had very few skills, but was very good with children, so she hoped to find work at a local orphanage. They needed a maid, willing to work in both the laundry and kitchen area. She could manage those things well enough as they were commonplace activities in her life. She kept her fingers crossed as she needed a job that would provide room and board, and soon. The meager amount of money her papa had been able to send her north with was all too soon going to be gone. She walked up to the front door of the Elizabeth Bashford-McMillan Orphans Home, and knocked.
A pair of brilliant blue eyes slightly shaded under golden curls was peeking up at her from the bushes next to the door. She was about to turn to talk to the wee lad, when the door was whipped open.
“Aye, what you be needing lassie?” A broad shouldered woman in a gray ticking smock, with a stained apron asked her.
“I am here to seek a job, ma’am. The porter at the hotel said you was hiring for the kitchens and laundry.” Emily said in her best diction, though her Italian accent was clear whenever she spoke.
“Aye, we be a hiring, you’ll need to be speakin’ with Ms. Gwen though, and she aren’t here.”
Emily shrugged with fatigue, the idea of another long walk out here, not the least bit appealing. Her eyes caught sight of the wee bugger still hiding in the bushes. He looked both frightened and mischievous, and he had a tiny finger placed to his lips. The internationally known sign for hush.
Emily used her well learned street wiles and turned back to the woman at the door, who was none to pleasant. “You look a wee taxed, could I be of some help, until Ms. Gwen returns?” She asked winking at her blonde rag-a-muffin tucked even deeper in the bushes.
Margret looked the wee lassie up and down. She could see no reason she wouldn’t be a useful gal to help around the place, and she was in sore need of help at the moment. Somehow, she’d misplaced that little devil Samuel and the moody girl was having another one of her fits. “Aye, come in, you can help me with these wee brats, and not so wee ones too. Prove your worth and I’ll tell Ms. Gwen to hire you on the spot. As I’s ready to walk out the door and never look back.”
Emily followed the woman into the halls of the home, the sounds of children echoed through the large house, and the smell of burnt bread hung heavy in the air. The home was a grand one, built for something other than an orphanage she wagered, but it seemed to suit the need. She followed the grumpy woman down a long hall, past a staircase, and into a the dining area. Children were scattered about the room, some playing, some staring into space, and some drawing on a large piece of butcher’s paper, that smelled strongly of blood and meat. Whatever, she thought, you did what you must, with what you could.
“Make yourself useful lassie and help me keep these nippers in this area, I’ve lost one of the brats, and another is having a fit, that needs to be settled. I’m Margret, and you’re?”
“Emily, Ems to most though.”
“Good luck Ems.”
Emily popped back to the front porch and looked into her blue eyed friend with a kind smile. “Are you hiding?” She asked. He shook his blonde curls and gave her a lopsided grin. “Will you come out and play with me?” She asked reaching out for him. He giggled, a sweet tinkling melody that was a blessing to the ears, as he jumped on the porch and grabbed Emily’s hand. She walked her new friend back to the main area. As she was hanging up her coat, and tucking her carpetbag on a shelf, she was startled by the clamor coming from above.
“Never you mind that noise, miss, that’s just Ana, she has fits.” A young man’s voice broke into her thoughts.
She turned and was greeted by a fine looking boy of about twelve standing a few feet from her. He was well groomed and dressed rather nice for a typical waif. “Hello,” she said, ”And you are?"
“Gabriel miss. I thought you was my new master’s mistress. I’m to be apprenticed today to Master Paine, the lumber man.” His words rushed out, a mixture of excitement and fear. “I’m exposed to go today.”
“Supposed to, Gabriel, supposed to. Why don’t we find you some thing to keep your mind busy, and before you know it Mr. Paine will be here.” She said ushering him to a table with some books on it.
Margret charged through the house and was fuming that she couldn’t find that scamp Samuel. Anaka was in the hands of Doc Webster yet again. He was the only one who could help end the fits when they started. As she came to the dining area, she realized it was rather quiet, she turned the corner expecting to find chaos and no nippers. To her shock all of the nippers, including that blonde demon Samuel, were settled around that lassie, who was telling a story. They seemed spellbound, and peaceful. The peace was suddenly shattered as a shriek pierced the air, the children shivered, some clutching each other in fear, some glancing up at the ceiling.
“What was that?” Emily yelped.
In unison many voices, whispered… “Anaka.”
It was at that time that an older woman, dressed in a fine, but older fashion, demure black dress appeared.
“Settle children, Margret should you not be readying them for their afternoon chores? And who might you be young lady?” She said turning to face Emily.
“That be Ems, Ms. Gwen, she be looking for work, and I thought she could wait for you here.” Margret stammered.
“Thank you Margret, but I was speaking to her, not you.” Ms. Gwen Stanley stated emphatically.
Emily reached out her hand, and stated as calmly as she could, “Emily Scalise, ma’am. I am looking for work, and was told you needed help.”
Gwen Stanley looked down at the hand offered, and then thoroughly examined the young lady before her. Italian for sure, not from around here, too refined to be running from the law, but street smart, not book smart. “Come along to my office, we’ll discuss the details of your employ here.” She stated walking off.
Emily let her hand drop from the air it had been suspended within for what seemed like hours. She knew this woman had scrutinized her, she felt the judgmental scouring scrape her soul. She had passed, and for that she was grateful.
“Have a seat Miss Scalise, it is Miss correct?” Ms. Stanley asked with a look that could curdle milk.
“Yes, ma’am. Not married, never been.”
“What brings you to us, my dear?”
“Work. I be a hard worker, am good with laundry, cooking, sewing…”
Ms. Stanley raised her hand to stop Emily from prattling on. “I want to know what brings you to this area dearest, I can tell you are not from around here. I need to know you are not running from the law, a spurned love, an angry owner, or a family feud. I do not like trouble and will not bring it to these doors.”
“My family decided to leave Chicago, we went our separate ways, to find jobs, and maybe lives beyond the gangs of the city.”
“You are Italian, are you running from Mr. Capone, or someone out to get him?”
Emily drew in a deep breath, she could lie or tell the truth. Which would be the safest bet? She went with the truth. “Ma’am my uncle is a gangster, a low life scumbag who will be the ruin of the family name. My papa knows that he was involved in something recently and he decided it would be safer for us if we got out of the kettle before the fire was set. We’re good people, work hard, and live clean. We can’t choose our family though, and that’s what made me come here.”
She gave this speech with confidence and looked Ms. Stanley in the eyes, which Gwen had to admire. The girl had moxy, and a strength that was clear. “How much schooling have you had?” She asked the girl.
“Through the eighth grade officially, though I read a lot, and have taught myself things I need to survive.”
“You can read? That’s a plus, seems hard to find people who can do that these days around here. Immigrants and all that.” Ms. Stanley stated without thinking it might sting her young employee. “Pay is $2.00 per week, with room and board. You will work with the children each day on reading, in addition to kitchen duties. Is this agreeable for you?”
“Yes, very.” Emily said shrugging with relief and smiling. “I can start today.”
“I guessed as much. Tommy told me I would be seeing you today.” Emily looked at her with a puzzled expression. “The porter at the Athern Hotel, he’s my nephew,” she said with a hint of a smirk. “He guides those he thinks will be a good fit to me. No need to see a good girl turned out on the streets, and dealing with hell if it can be stopped. We may be a small town in compare to Chicago, but we still have the problems. We’re open to all children, big or small.” She said ending the interview.
A number of weeks passed at the orphanage and Ems was settling in nicely. The children loved her, and Margret preferred that. Margret was not a people person, but she was a fine cook. Time in the kitchen was enjoyable and often included the young girls. The goal of the Children’s Home since it had opened in 1912, was to help the youth find good homes or learn a trade that would allow them to find jobs. A large portion of the land was a farm, and each of the children had chores in the fields, or around the house. The laundress was an Irish lass, a tad younger than Emily. Katherine was a spitfire, but she made sure that the home was always clean, right down to the sheets. The staff was completed by three brothers who helped manage the farm area, Adolph, Franz, and Henriech. They also helped to protect the children and women. Reigning over all was Ms. Gwen Stanley. She wanted all to think she was a mean woman, but she had a heart of gold. Widowed at a young age, she found that working at the Elizabeth
Bashford-McMillan Orphan’s Home answered the prayers she screamed in her grief. The children were the ones she would never have with her husband, and the house was a home that wasn’t haunted by images of her Charles.
Sadly the orphanage was haunted by one thing. The strange child that resided in the home, always kept in her room on the third floor, hidden away from prying eyes, and the other children. Not even all of the staff knew of the mysterious girl in the attic as some called her. The waif was an enigma. Her rich chestnut hair was a bundle of adorable curls. Her eyes a glistening golden green. Her tiny frame, adorable but strong. Her smile a magnet that called to a person’s soul. All who knew her loved her, but she carried a strange secret that none had yet to be able to explain. She never aged.
She was the first resident of the home, Mrs. Bashford-McMillan’s first charge. Her room was a luxury suite in comparison to the rest of the quarters. It was also her prison. She wasn’t safe. Something chased her in her dreams, which led to the wicked fits that only Dr. Webster could calm her through. They came each month, and the doctor had treated her since the day in 1914 when Mrs. Bashford-McMillan had called upon him.
Doc Webster was a young man when he had come to the territory that became the state of Wisconsin. He had been known by another name then, and by many others over the centuries. He had joined a group of French explorer’s led by Nicolas Perrot, and forged his way into the area that would eventually over time become Wisconsin. He went where he needed to be. Near the child. Her parents had entrusted him to be her guardian, her protector on Earth. They knew she would not be like normal human babes and they knew that they must appoint someone to be there for her always. As gods they had the power to grant immortality, though it was not a gift oft given to a human. He had been a faithful servant to them, both as a healer and spiritual guide to those who would worship them. They were a powerful couple, with a family that was known to draw attention to themselves. When the wee one was born, she was so precious that her parents knew they had to protect her from her siblings. They were not beyond jealous acts of murderous rage.
Thus, the day after young Anaka was born, her mother wrapped her in a beautiful silken cloth the color of midnight, covered in golden stars. Her father nestled the golden amulet in the box, and sealed it with powerful spells of protection. It would only open when their daughter reached an age of maturity. Only nobody knew when that day would come. They had granted Tepemkau eternal life, when they knew a child was to be born. He knew his role, he knew that he was to protect her until the time came that she would return to claim her rightful place beside her mother and father.
Anaka was a precious child, and Tepemkau cared for her well. At times she was his own child, at times he found a caretaker for her. A year into their hiding he realized that she was not aging. She was a mere babe for over five hundred years.
He married in 561, a beautiful red haired woman, who embraced Anaka as her own. Eibhleann was of a Celtic tribe, and knew her husband as Latharn. He had arrived on the shores of there lands with fellow Celts who were escaping war with the strangers that had come to their lands. He was a wise one and had the gift of healing. Many a father wanted him for their daughter’s husband, but it was Eibhleann who won
his heart, as she readily accepted the dark haired child he brought with him. Slowly Anaka blossomed, and over a span of twenty years she aged to approximately three in human standards. Eibhleann thought she had been blessed by the stars with a fairy child, and Latharn allowed her to believe in the magic. He loved her, and stayed with her until her death. Travel was difficult in the early centuries, and keeping a magical child hidden even harder.
Salem in the New World had been a most frightful time, even though he was a local priest. It was then he had stolen into Canada with his charge. Moving was a curse of necessity, but the growing population in what was now America, was a gift. He married again, and the love of his Marie helped Anaka grow more, and she now resembled a human child of the age of five. Wisconsin was an out of the way place, and he grew to like the region. He moved around the beautiful lakes, and settled in many areas, watching his young charge.
He had met the charming Mrs. Bashford-McMillan just as she approached the city council about turning her husband’s home into a refuge for children. He was the local doctor, she a wealthy widow. Many thought they would fall in love, but Elizabeth had loved, and lost. Her heart was taken, until she met Anaka. The one thing she had never been blessed with was children.
Shortly after she opened the doors of The Elizabeth Bashford-McMillan Home for Children, Doctor Edward Webster brought her the first resident, a waif he claimed had wandered into his offices, injured and in need of care. Only he and Elizabeth knew that Anaka had always been there. Elizabeth treated the little girl as her own and Anaka flourished, and grew, but ever so slow. When Elizabeth passed away in 1918 Anaka was old enough physically and mentally to comprehend the loss, and she soon started to have what he thought were mere fits of hysteria. He tried many methods to calm her, but even pass flora incarnta, which was helping many did little to calm the child. He had resorted to the use of an opiate to calm her.
Elizabeth had taken excellent care to ensure that Edward and Anaka would have a place to stay for as long as possible. Her will stipulated that the property was to remain a home for children for two hundred years after her death. Anaka was a part of the package, and each director of the facility was selected by Dr. Webster. He would ensure that she received the needed care.
1929, the world was going to hell in a hand basket to him, but the time was coming, Edward Webster
would soon need to disappear and so to would the child in the attic, Anaka, the
misplaced goddess.