Bound By Purpose

Brooklyn

April 10th, 1929

Dear Mother,

It's me, Evelyn all the way across the ocean in America. Father and I have finally found a place to settle. It's not a palace or anywhere near our old home in London, but father has promised that his new job gives better pay than most do and he reassures me that we'll be up and out soon. Please get better and return to New York. America truly has all the opportunities that were spoken of, but I believe it won't be nearly as good as home until you've come back to us. I hope that you would give Lydia all my love as I miss her terribly. There are plenty of children around but all of the girls my age pay no attention to me. There is a nice family of two next door, a mother and her son, I believe his name is Steve. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting them yet, but I do believe they are kind.

Please take care of yourself Mama. I expect you here and well by July to be in time for my birthday. I miss you mum. Get well and come as soon as you are able. Father and I are waiting for you Mother. We love you!

From, 

Your sweet Evelyn.

I put down my pen as I finish my letter, and sit back against the the metal post of my small bed. It's all been a whirlwind. We had come to America for a better opportunity. Glancing down once more at the letter I've written the details of the journey come flooding back. It had started terribly as my lovely mother had been turned away at the sight of her sickness. Our chance had almost ended before it even began but my mother had urged us to go, to set up a new life. She had hugged me very tightly and patted me on the head before turning away. Our goodbye had been quick, quicker than anyone deserved. My father who was heartbroken to leave her behind was quiet for our entire journey across the ocean. He had no choice but to continue on without the love of his life, and I had to continue on without a mother.

My father was born and raised in Edinburgh but had somehow found himself working within the military. A branch that worked closely with its American counterpart. Although he won't tell me exactly what he does, or what caused our move to America I know he is ecstatic to work for this great nation.

At the moment we live in Brooklyn, something father says will change when he starts to move his way into his new job. Our home is not the grandest, or at all what I expected for that matter. But it's cozy and we are surrounded by other kind people just trying to find their way. I distract myself from missing my mother by looking around our small apartment. Everything we've brought sits close together. It was such a change from our sweeping flat in London. Looking up over my shoulder I peek ever so slightly through the crack the curtains create above the bed and peer out. New York had color, something London would lack at times. I sigh, think positively.

I blow across my letter once more to confirm that the ink has dried and hear a knock at the door alerting me from my perch. I gently lay my letter on my neatly made trundle and move to the door. Grabbing a small stool that's laying against the wall I drag it over and step up. Standing on my tippy toes I'm just able to see outside the peep hole. Standing there is a young woman with two young boys. I recognize the woman and the sickly boy as our neighbors. 

Turning I hop down sending my skirts up with the whoosh of air. I kick the stool aside and cautiously open the door to invite them in. Looking up at the woman I notice her kind eyes and instantly relax. She was a mother, I knew that much just from the way she rests her hand on the back of her son. I step back and open the door wider inviting them in. The mother smiles widely with her basket in hand. Kneeling down she meets me at eye level. "I brought you and your family some treats." I timidly peek under the cloth and see the assortment of breads. I smile at the woman and she returns the gesture. She looks beyond me now inside at our unpacked flat. "We can come back for the basket later tonight... When your parents come home." 

Stepping back from the threshold she reveals my father to me, who has just come up the stairs. Setting the basket down gently I run the few steps across the concrete patio and into his arms. He swings me around twice before finally setting me down again. He's dressed in his uniform and has yet another package of belongings cradled under one arm. 

"I'm Thomas Moore. And you are?" Father says shifting his weight and setting me down.

He reaches out a hand prompting for her introduction. "I'm Sara Rogers, and this is my son Steve. We just wanted to say hi and see if you were settling in well?"

"They brought us some food father!" I squirm away from his side back to the warm basket of fresh treats. 

"Well that's just wonderful Evelyn!" My father says. He picks up the basket and then turns back outside. "Please stay and have some coffee Mrs. Rogers." She smiles again, but how can a smile look sad?

She looks to the floor. "It's just Ms. now." I watch as my father nods and then steps out of Sara's way to let her in. I bounce in and go back to my toys that sit upon the floor. I'd thought maybe the boys would want to play to, but I guess paper dolls don't appeal to the boys here anymore than they did in Britain. They politely and quietly enter the room and stand at the wall by the door. 

My father and Sara supply the background noise as I go about my things, but soon I become bored. Looking up my eyes wander to the two boys. When Steve sees me staring he averts his eyes to the floor and sneaks outside. The other one... He doesn't break eye contact with me for a few moments. However, when Steve fails to reenter I watch the older boy carefully peer out to check on him, and then he goes outside. Curious, I leave my dolls and follow them to our patio. They're both standing on the railing. Steve has stepped up onto the first rung and even still he's nowhere near the other boy's height. I'm never one to be shy so I run up beside them and hop on the first rung beside the stranger. I reach my left hand across my body and extend it to him. "I'm Evelyn. I'm guessing he's Steve, but I don't know you." I say pointing across the stranger. I try my best to hide my accent. The girls I'd met earlier had told me to bury it if I wanted anyone to ever understand me.

"James Barnes." He says taking my hand and giving it a shake. 

"But everyone calls him Bucky." Steve speaks for the first time and I smile down the rail to him. At this time Steve's mother exits our door and calls for Steve to follow.

I try again to hide my accent but fail. "It was nice to meet you Steve." I smile at him as he takes the step down and follows his mother to his flat. I turn my attention back to James. "Are you not going to go." Again I try to hide my accent succeeding with a few words.

"Yeah. I guess I should go. I live down the street a ways." I feel as if I could almost hear a hint of an accent in his voice though I can't place it.  He takes a step towards the stairs but he doesn't leave until after he speaks once more. "Don't try to hide your accent. It's... It's nice." With that he walks away. He's left me rather perplexed. When the puzzle of who he is leaves me with no more threads to follow I turn back to my door.

"What's this about hiding your accent?" My dad says, arms stretched out across the door frame.