Hilda
by
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Chapter 1
The last two days had been snowing heavily and all the town and landscape lay under a heavy blanket of snow. The gray clouds hung low and sullen and a cold fierce wind was blowing from the north. The white downs on the branches of the trees unable to carry its load any longer bent under the burden until the snow fell to the ground then the limbs of the trees trembling from its effort resumed its normal position relieved.
"Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!" the town clock had struck twelve, midnight. A lone figure slowly made her way up the cold deserted snow covered street. Trudging through the dark night her halting steps kicked up sprays of snow matching the swirling vapor of her warm breath as it contacted the cold air. The stillness of the night was broken only by the crunching of the snow as each laboring step fell.
The woman was poorly clad and was wearing a light, badly mended coat wrapped around her form to help keep the bleak wind from piercing her body.
In her arms she carried a bundle hugging it close attempting to keep it warm.
Her aged face, through in her mid-twenties, had a sad and hopeless expression. One that suffered hardship and sorrow. A kerchief covered her coal black hair. Her dark eyes were partly closed and her pug nose was drawn down from the cold wind. The lines around the small mouth were deep and looked more like wrinkles than curvatures under her cheek.
With the bundle held tightly against her breast and her head hanging over it she wearily trudged on.
"May God forgive, me for what I’m about to do," she sighed, "but it’s the only way out for either of us dear boy." She hesitated now and then as she progressed up the street.
Finally she stopped with certainty before a house distinguished from its colonial-style neighbors only by its projection to the ash walk allowing only the three steps leading to the tiny threshold covered by an equally small portico. She ascended three steps and paused to lay her precious load on the stoop before interrupting the stillness of the house with three resounding knocks on the door. She waited a moment then knocked again.
John Landish was comfortably asleep in his warm bed. He was awakened at the striking of the town clock. At the last stroke of the bell, he fell peacefully asleep again. His rest, however, was not to be this night because he was awakened again by the knocking at his door. He immediately sat up in his bed and listened. When the knocking was repeated he jumped out of his bed rushed quickly to the window raised the sash and looked down toward the front door.
"Hey, who’s down there?" he asked.
"Take good care of this for me," a woman’s voice pleaded.
"What is it?" he asked.
Instead of answering, the woman quickly retraced her steps and disappeared into the darkness.
"Hey, who are you?" "What’s your name?" Mr. Landish called out. There was no response. The woman had left as mysteriously as she appeared. He stood at his open window for a moment puzzled, as the cold night air blew into his bedroom. He shuddered from the cold then drew back and closed the window.
"What’s the trouble?" asked his wife who was awakened by the disturbance.
"I don’t know," he answered. "It seems as though a woman left something on our door step."
"Let us go down and see what it is," she suggested.
They started down the steps which led to a small hall, and which was separated from the living room by two large sliding doors. They went directly to the front door and opened it. At their feet lay the bundle, which the lady of mystery had left. Mrs. Landish picked up the bundle and carried it inside. Mr. Landish stood at the opened door meditating and puzzled.
"No use trying to follow her," he thought.
"She’d be too far away by this time,"
"John! John! Come quickly! Look!" he heard his wife say excitedly as she pointed toward the bundle.
"Did you ever," his wife was saying as he reached her side.
"A baby!" he exclaimed interrupting her.
"Of all things Martha, a baby, an infant baby right on our own doorstep and at this time of night."
"What does it mean?" he asked.
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About the Book
Hilda
Hilda, also known as the ‘Apple Lady,’ is a young woman whose life has forced her hide her identity from those she loved, as well as those she feared.
The story tells of the finding of a baby that was left by a mysterious lady on the doorstep of John Landish, a police officer in Greenville. While checking this out it's found that it is connected to the death of Joe Carly a man who's wanted for murder. The young boy grows up in the Landish home and becomes an officer in his foster father's police force.
John meets Janet a lovely young lady and falls in love with her. Janet returns John's love but later changes her loyalties to Lesly, one with a shady character.
The turbulent times intertwine the lives of John and Hilda in many ways, even surprising the police inspector who was involved in their lives.
The plot, counter-plot and mysterious turn of events make Hilda the ‘Apple Lady’ interesting reading.
The story links together a number of events including a crime, family and love.
About the Author
The author was a member of a large family of nine children. A dropout in the ninth grade he went to work at the local plant at age fifteen dumping hot molds in a foundry. After he left school and still in his teens the author developed an urge to write. He felt so bent on writing that he signed up with a correspondence school by mail under a fictitious name and got a diploma for his effort. He was able to get several English books to study from so as to educate himself. He married at age twenty and raised a family of four girls and one boy. A few years went by and he began to get hungry for learning more English lessons and to do some writing. It wasn't until the Depression era that he began to write seriously. He started several stories, but gave them up until the later years in the thirties when he formulated the outline to the story of Hilda. A few months went by he had four or five chapters written, but he got into a brain block. It took him several years to get over it until he was able to get started again. He continued to write Hilda and was making progress, but then he began to have family problems, which took up his time. His family was growing. He had three children. He could only write a few hours at a time. This time when he got going again he kept writing until he finished Hilda.