Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Nameless. Fatherless. Unwanted.

These were the words that he had heard used to describe him before he was old enough to understand hate. He remembered sitting on the floor of their rundown home, playing with his toys. Not knowing any better, he uttered the words he had heard a lady use earlier that day.

“Ill’git’ment child!”

The words were meaningless to him, but when his mother turned abruptly from her cooking, with her hand to her chest, and wide pain-filled eyes, he knew from that day on how words could hurt. He knew how unkind people could be.

“Don’t you ever say anything like that again, Michael Casey!” she had scolded, grabbing him by the arms and giving him a firm shake. His eyes had filled with tears, and he couldn’t stop his lower lip from forming a pout.

“I’m sorry, mama!” he whimpered.

Her eyes softened, and she pulled him into a hug, and assured him everything was all right. She loved him.

Now he stood next to her grave and read the epitaph.

Irene Casey
b. February 2, 1883
d. November 11, 1921
Beloved Mother – Always an Angel

The stone mason had given him an odd look when he had requested this epitaph for his mother’s grave stone. Yes! The man knew who he was - what he was. The whole town knew about him, and the evil his mother had committed. He hardened his heart to their looks, to their whispers and to their opinions. To him, his mother had always been an angel, and he was determined that this be put on her stone.

His mother had never married. After it was found out that she was to have a baby, Michael’s father had suddenly left town and Irene’s family had shut her out of their lives. Irene had moved to this town under the guise of a young widow, and the town people had readily accepted and helped her. That is, until a person from Irene’s old hometown just happened to be passing through. He couldn’t find certain supplies he needed back home, and had to make a special trip. He stayed only long enough to collect those supplies, and – after spotting Irene – to “warn” a few townsfolk of the kind of woman she was. Word passed quickly, and Irene became an outcast.

She took in laundry for a living. With what little she was paid, she had to take in extra jobs where she could find them. Sometimes serving as a maid when some of the more wealthy families in town were between “good help”; sometimes cleaning the local shops overnight. It was no surprise to anyone when the baby came early. He wasn’t expected to live, and many had said it would be merciful to the child if he didn’t survive. But survive he did, and the good people of the town tried to persuade the mother – for his sake – that she give him up for adoption.

He was the only person in her life, though, and she would not give him up. That was 1899, and for twenty-two years, Michael watched this woman struggle to provide a home and the basic comforts for him. As soon as he could, he also picked up odd jobs wherever he could to bring in the money, and until his mother had died, he was working as a hand on a nearby farm.

Two weeks ago, Irene had felt a chill and knew she must be coming down with a cold. A few days later, Mike came home to find his mother slouched over the kitchen table, struggling to breath. He put her to bed, and quickly went for the doctor. Pneumonia, it was, and after a struggle of a little over a week, the thirty-eight year old woman passed on in her sleep.

Mike had readily decided that as soon as she was given a proper burial, he would leave this miserable town. Now that she was gone, there was nothing left for him here. He hated the townsfolk for the way they had treated his mother. He hated the hypocrites even more when they came to her funeral. Sure, they forgot their Christian duty while she was alive, but now that she was dead…

A sob caught in his throat, and he pushed any further thoughts of this town from his mind. Looking back at the grave, he laid his hand on the stone as gently as though he were laying his hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Ma! I’m not really leaving you.” he whispered, and he placed a hand over the ache in his chest. “You’ll always be with me here.”