The Dust Bowl Orphans: A completely heartbreaking and unputdownable historical novel by Suzette D. Harrison

Author:Suzette D. Harrison [Harrison, Suzette D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803140797
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-02-06T16:00:00+00:00

I sat at the airport waiting on my departing flight, absent-mindedly people-watching while processing my meeting with Gregory Owenslee. He was kind. Direct. He’d been honest about his family struggling with the appearance of this marriage certificate linking Henry Owenslee to a woman other than their matriarch. I prayed he’d approach any revelations his uncle provided with fairness.

I wish him good success in tracking down his cousin’s contact… and with whatever comes next, I thought while watching a little girl chase down a small, runaway ball and scamper back to a woman I presumed was her mother. I smiled at her cuteness while wondering why Miss Faith Me married Henry Owenslee. By all accounts, he sounded like a difficult person. Even racist. How in the world did their marriage come about? Were they in love? What led to their separation, and did they actually divorce?

I had many questions and zero answers. Just the same, Miss Faith Me became even more substantive. She wasn’t a mere phantom figure caught in a picture, but a young woman with definite, defining experiences. And I wanted to know more about her, and them.

Something hitting the side of my foot brought my thoughts out of yesterday. Seeing a Hot Wheels cars resting against my shoe, I looked up to find a little Latino boy standing several feet away, looking uncertain. He was a cutie patootie with his huge brown eyes, dark curly hair, and angelic face.

I picked up the toy, wondering if my son would’ve had tiny cars like this, if he had lived. I’d endured a season where the mere sound of a baby crying or the sight of a child could reduce me to an avalanche of tears, even jealousy and resentment.

Grief and healing are works in progress, and each day they can look different. Just be open to however they manifest.

I thought on my therapist’s words as I extended the toy to the child with a soft, reassuring smile, and waited as he glanced at his mother for permission.

“It’s okay,” she assured.

He approached, hesitantly, grabbed the car from my hand and raced back to hop onto his mother’s lap.

“He’s shy,” she offered apologetically. “What do you say, mi hijo?”

“Thank you.” His voice was so small, sweet.

“You’re welcome.” I exchanged a smile with his mother only for a tender pain to hit between my breasts when realizing he was around the same age my son would have been. I averted my gaze and took a deep, calming breath as other children came into focus. The girl who’d chased her ball. A set of twins twirling in the aisle, exerting energy, falling down laughing. There were little people seemingly all about me. Seeing them brought me joy. And soft sadness.

I’d been a mother once, but never again.

I dabbed an unexpected tear forming in the corner of my eye.

I miss Jaelen.

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