Month of Sundays by Yolanda Wallace

Author:Yolanda Wallace [Wallace, Yolanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9781602827394
Amazon: 1602827397
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2012-09-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The following Sunday, Rachel linked her arm through Griffin’s as they walked to Battery Park. The twenty-five acre area on the southern tip of Manhattan normally teemed with tourists. The cold weather was keeping most of them at bay, though a few diehards braved the wintry conditions to line up to buy tickets for the ferry to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Thankfully, their tickets had been pre-purchased.

They boarded the boat and went inside to escape the bitter wind. After they bought cups of hot tea from a food vendor, they searched for seats with an unobstructed view. The view was spectacular, but the ride was rough thanks to the choppy water. Rachel couldn’t wait to get to dry land. When the ferry docked at Ellis Island, she and Griffin left the tour guides behind and carved out their own path.

“Before we continue forward, I thought this would be an opportune time to reflect on the past,” Griffin said as they stood next to the Wall of Honor.

Rachel looked at the monument bearing the names of more than seven thousand people who had left their former lives behind to immigrate to America.

“I did some research,” Griffin said. “Did you know our great-grandmothers came to America on the same ship? They were both processed at Ellis Island on July 4, 1908. Your great-grandmother Agnieska settled in New York while my great-grandma Saoirse continued across the country to California. Call me romantic, but I like to think they shared a laugh or two before they went their separate ways.”

Rachel found Saoirse O’Malley’s name first, followed by her own ancestor’s. She imagined the two women protecting themselves from the elements with lace parasols as they walked arm in arm on the deck of a vast ship much the same way she and Griffin were walking today.

The woman her mother referred to as Grandma Agnes died long before Rachel was born, but she had seen photographs of her in family albums—sometimes smiling, usually serious, her thick brown hair piled on top of her head in the voluminous bun considered fashionable in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. She was one of the group of women history referred to as Iron Jawed Angels, activists who fought for women’s right to vote and sought to be seen as equals both at home and in the workplace.

Rachel ran her fingers over the black letters of Grandma Agnes’s name. “Thank you for everything you did to make life better for women everywhere. Thank you for your courage and your indomitable spirit. I can’t even begin to imagine the hardships you faced as a woman alone in a foreign country.”

She turned to Griffin.

“Until I met you, I felt like a woman alone, too, though not by choice. When my last relationship ended, I thought my last real shot at happiness ended with it. Then I met you. I didn’t know what to make of you at first. I didn’t want to take a chance on you—I didn’t want to trust you, but I’m glad I did.

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