This is an unedited, un -reviewed first draft of a story I have been writing for several years.
If you like it, great please let me know. If you don't, let me know anyway.
INTRODUCTION
A man's world is enriched, then shattered by his love for a young
woman he never gets to meet. He loves
her from afar. Her warm smile and what seems to him to be her joy of life, opens
a door in his heart and in his life, that he did not know existed.
He is a straight- laced college professor with a fine wife and
family. She is a factory worker from the
tenements, living from paycheck- to- paycheck but dreaming of better days in
America.
The year is 1911 in New York City. She works at the Triangle
Shirtwaist Factory.
THE GREEN RIBBON CHAPTER 1
Spring is always lovely in New York City. And so it was in March of
1911.
The flowers crept out of their hidden beds, the trees exploded with
green and white blossoms. Some had pungent fragrances. Magnolias smelled sweet
and light. Early roses added a scent to the air as you pass by. The skies
sometimes continued grey and blustery, but slowly they cleared to a crystal
blue that could take your breath away. The sun found its way from behind the
clouds and glowed early in the morning so that the dew on the grass in Central
Park looked like crystals.
Of course, with spring and warmer air comes melting snow and ice. That
exposed the dirt and grime and filth that had been hidden; frozen since that
cold snap in December. But, animal leavings and rotting fruit were all part of
spring in New York City in 1911.
Professor Henry Rutledge loved it all. Well, not the horse dung. He
had seen enough of that during his summers on his Uncle Joshua’s farm. But the
beauty and the promise of another spring always added a lilt to his step and a
small smile to his face.
In 1911, Paul’s children were just the right age to ask too many
questions. Being a college professor, he expected inquiries from his
students. But, they were young adults,
not 8 and 11 year old children with unbridled curiosities. He grew impatient
with his children quickly and insisted that when he come home each evening,
they greet him politely then disappear until supper. That way he could sit comfortably in his
overstuffed chair. Put his feet up on the Ottoman. Light his pipe and read the
newspaper without interruption. He was, after all, the master of the house and
what he said was law.
Henry Rutledge was not a domineering man, but he wanted order in his
household and he did not want to have to justify every decision he made or
every order he gave, to his family. He wanted his life to be uncomplicated and predictable.
He wanted his wife, Helen to be beautiful and obedient. He had worked hard to
obtain a Doctorate in Greek and Roman history at New York University, and now,
since he taught at that very same institution, he wanted to move up the ladder
of the faculty with a family that would make him proud.
The world of New York City, and the outside world in general, were of
little importance to Henry. He read of
the crime and the corruption in city politics, but that did not concern him
because his world was purely academic. He found some interest in world affairs
as they related to his studies in ancient history, but the troubles across the
sea did not touch him directly, so he read about them as a kind of
entertainment. He was confident and you
could say, arrogant. He knew his place in society and those beneath him were of
little consequence.
Until he saw her.