Chp 14 daughter's paradox

:::Warning dark and graphic thoughts and themes::::

Maternal Great Aunt Beulah Mason: Helen Mason-Turner younger sister: head of the Mason-Turner Family

Paternal Grandmother Sophronia Wepener: Erucic Wilson Boer Wepener mother, head of the family:

Erucic Wilson Boer Wepener: 76: industrial gem merchant & DeBeers Cartel dealer in New York." first wife Helen Mason-Turner; second wife, Victoria Turner, the first wife's first cousin: third wife, Ashely Van-Thomas

Vicente a male (40) from his second wife, Victoria Turner, the first wife's first cousin, who killed herself when Deborah or Ella was thirteen.

Aquila: 21: by third wife, Ashely Van-Thomas

Ashely Van-Thomas Wepener died two years ago with her son-in law Arthur Wilson in a car crash in South Africa by Vicente.

xxxxxxxxx

Deborah Helena Wepener (Matxin): alias Ella Marten: died age 22 would have been 44~45: had CG at 16~17: daughter from first wife Helen Mason-Turner; Deborah disappeared on her sixteen birthdays at the families Hampton estate. About two months before she became pregnant with Christian." One daughter Zeruiah and one son Christian

Zeruiah: ~30: Zeruiah means Pain or tribulation of the Lord or in this case tribulation, Sister of King David: forced to married Arthur Wilson the third (no relation) at 16. Biological Father Ike Turner, Raped Deborah at 12. One daughter Ella Tressye.

Ella Tressye Wilson: Zeruiah Daughter: vivid blue eyes: (Ella) beautiful fairy; one who enjoys life: (Tressye)One who harvest; a guardian

Xxx

Married to Captain Thomas Christian Matxin: TC: 29: died in a helicopter crash close to the Columbian-Venezuela border near La Ceiba. He died when Ella was about four weeks pregnant (with CG)." Commanding an ASA (ARMY NSA) ELINT (Armed Forces tactical electronic surveillance)-teams monitoring the Maoist Rebels across the border from Puerto Infante basecamp in Venezuela. Married Deborah Helena Wepener Matxin. No family

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seattle: Grey Manor

I walk along the water, lost inside my mind. Lost inside the worry and pain of uncertain future. "what if's" haunt my meandering steps. I walk waiting for my brother to arrive. I wait for the abandonment and exile. I know in my heart he will reject me. A deep-seated fear from that day when my mother left me.

My daughter sits and watch's me from the patio. CPO surround us. A power boat cruise a hundred meters off-shore. Grey's people have even put an underwater trip fence fifty meters out. The military people are more than enough for the "want-a-bes'" Wilson and Vicente hire. I should feel safe, but after a life time of intrigue and hate; I fear even more.

I watch the water lap the sandy beach, washing grains into and out of the lakes lullaby-breaking surf. That tickles my toes. I watch the dawn break over the trees. I know my day will end tonight, at my brothers' pain and hate. How strange I wondered all these years for a brother, a sign Ella had lived a good life, happy and free. Now I know her freedom was short lived and horrified ending. How she fell, will I crash the same way. Will my days be a hollow numb mind at the hands of a sadist and monster? Am I not my mother's daughter? My father's insanity creeps into my mind.

I sit a sip my morning coffee. My Daughter knows to let me be in my self-loathing muses. The Greys don't.

"Zeruiah how are you this morning, Ella?" Grace ask all bubbly and motherly. How strange from our normal existence.

"Please Grace call me Zee. I'm very worried about how Christian will take me and my daughter?"

"you have nothing to worry about. Christian and Anna will love you, both of you." Grace tries to put forth a brave face. But I see the worry behind the eyes.

"In the meantime, this was in Ella effects, a journal, I'm afraid its mostly gibberish. Can't really tell when she wrote it." Grace hands over the worn Green Composition Book.

I open the first page: MY GOD! It's in Fanagalo! A pidgin (simplified language) mainly in the gold, diamond, coal and copper mining industries in South Africa. This is Ella's very rare version based on Northern Rhodesia Bemba Cikabanga (pronounced, and sometimes spelt, Chikabanga). Mom used this to hide her thoughts from everyone else. Only Elisa our South African Housekeeper every knew about it or could read it. I have a few letters and diary's mom wrote. I miss Elisa and the quiet of the Camp Bay beach house off of Victoria Rd. The nice quiet north corner of Glen beach.

I look at the first line. It's a letter to me. Mom was thinking about me.

'The road zips by the Greyhound bus window. The night is still and eerie in the quarter moonlight. Your brother Christian is kicking hard. I know it's a boy. I know that god will grant me a copy of TC, after taking him from me. Your father was a god in all things and ways. He was my dream of what a man is and should be. Strong, brave, kind, sensitive. The warrior poet of lore. TC was everything and he was mine for a brief time.

Edward his buddy from flight school said he died quick and painless; I accept the lies from his friends. I know he died in pain at the loss of me, of us. He was planning to get you after he returned from Puerto Infante; we would be strong enough to challenge Wilson and the families. Now I flee in the night seven months fat. Fleeing to Chicago where TC best friend is waiting.

Your father was orphaned at fourteen; His parent's friends the Lawrence raised him. We are bound to stay with the adopted brother of his; Truman Lawrence outside Chicago. I hope you can forgive me leaving you. I had to flee.

Vicente was coming to end me. I never understood his hatred of me. I raised him for most of his live and he hates and wants to kill me. He sees you my Leu, as some bargaining chip. Ashely begged me to leave you. I would have taken you but for your chickenpox, they isolated you in New York. I couldn't get you out. Sorry.'

I cry at her words, the pain in the page. She was always so sensitive. So, In-tune to plants then people. Elisa always said she was born a ghost waiting for the sun to shine; to bloom in the bright rays of unconditional love. She had that with TC; she should have had her happily ever after; not what fates and gods metered out to her. I watch the glitter as dawn reduces to Morning.

'I write this in pain, pain that I've failed, that TC trusted the wrong man. I trusted the wrong man as well. He beats and rapes me for weeks. Drugs, Alcohol to numb me. Christian is somehow born perfect. I do everything to shield us. I escaped, I thought I did. But they found me. The social workers, nurse just nod and hand us back to the monsters. His wife has sold me to a drug dealer pimp in Detroit. A black man. I hate the world he chains me into. Christian is one year old today. My mind is clear for a while. I make my little man brownies. Like I use to make for you. Leu, I'm happy you're not here to suffer.'

"Ella see if we can locate Truman Lawrence, Outside of Chicago, his wife or former wife and the Pimp in Detroit. Have them added to the Enemies list." I sip my cold coffee.

"Who are they mom?"

"They are the people that betrayed your grandmother into slavery and drugs and death."

"Enemies or something more active?" My Ella asks, with a cold fire that will chill anyone who doesn't know her. She inherited her namesakes deep in tune empathy with nature and people with my craziness, merciless anger. She has seen too much of the family games to let guilty or remorse haunt her actions.

"What ever you and Christian chose?"

"They aren't choosing anything. This family history is for us. To solve. (pointing to Ella and them) I'm Your nephew Frankie, my betroth Chucky. The brute is Sharp. Let us find a path to never let these evils touch our loved one, that includes you as well. You all have paid too high a price already." Says a teenager with eyes haunted and hardened before his years. I nod.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Christian how I long to tell you the secrets of your father, the brave man you will follow in life. But the pain and dreams haunt me. Break me. The world was bright in his grey eyes and beautiful smile. The world turned only because he wishes it to do so. Your eyes haunt me, my little man. My little Matxin man.'

Pages of one word, mostly pain and hurt fill pages and pages.

'today you spoke, your first word. 'Mommy' I wish I could be better, make you safer, but tomorrow we travel to Detroit, where a cruel man will whore me out. But today you called me mother. Today is bright with ghost of your father.'

More pages of disjointed words. But one word fills the vellum; pain. If the enemies are alive, I will make their days reflect my mothers. Pain and more pain they will wish for death like she did. The gentle soul she was broken by the family, destroyed in grief for her soulmate. Abused and betrayed by supposed friends. I weep for the woman who bore me, fought to keep me. I remember her loving embrace, the smell of flowers. The mint tang of her kisses and she always chewed a mint leaf. I remember all these little things in deep blue eyes weeping for me. To take the burden from my soul, bones, my young frail heart.

'Christian, I wish I could tell you everything. I wish someone would have listened to me, helped me. I leave you in a few hours. I have arranged another whore to call the police. My world is gone as the lump in my chest grow3s, the pain in your eyes deepens. Please forgive me, please escape and live a good life in love and happiness. Remember the good days, forget the bad and forever know in your heart and soul I loved you. You were the only reason I existed this long. Your father is waiting me in heaven, I hope. You are all that have to say I tried to be a good person.

I read the last page of Bemba-Cikabanga: 'the light is faded, the strange growth in my breast is taking me to hell. I have done everything to get Christian out. Everyone has forsaken me. Everyone ignores my pleas, begging. I have the necessary things to see my end and Christian free. Silvia will get him out if I'm gone. She knows the burden will be to great. Besides Christian will compete with her welp. Christian will win. I see the drive his father had in his eyes, even when silver buckle's burns him. The fire of courage burns thru the fear and pan. Pain! I let happen, cause with my weakness. I write this to you Leu. I pray Ashely keeps you safe and happy.

The light fades. If you ever get this please tell Christian I love him, I'm so sorry I failed him and you. I hate I failed you, that the gods rolled my life like dice. Laughing and pleasure from my destruction. Your brother is cuddled with me on the floor. Soon the hemlock will seep and take me to heaven to be with your father TC. Ella the failed.'

I lay on the cold grass crying out my pain. My mother last thoughts were of us. Her children and the failure she thought she was to us. The strong girl who tried to be free. She didn't fail. Others failed her. How will we ever stop the cycle of abuse and pain. How will I see the dawn without her; holding me ever again. Without ever holding my daughter, her granddaughter?

I feel arms embrace me, a copper haired head blinds my sight; as I let the emotions explode and overcome us. My brother is here and hugging me. My brother loves me. My world is brighter for his acceptance of me. We let the deep mortal pain for our dead mother out, letting the burden go, as only the both of us ever could, only when we were together. Mother you didn't fail, we are here and happy together.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A-pov

I hold my niece as her mother comes unglued, in the arms of my husband, her brother. How he worried for nothing on the plane that she wouldn't accept him, like him. We cry for them, with them. The pain of their mother's loss. For the first time they have closure. They have each other.

"Anna?" Chucky asks hugging us.

"Yes?"

"The pimp is dead, stole from the wrong people twenty years ago. Chopped him up alive. The Lawrence's are in Texas, reformed addicts. I had some asset moved to pay them in full for their crimes. Also had the hospital social worker and pimp's beta bitch, Silvia feel the family love. Silvia's two sons were killed eight years ago as a drug dealing pimps."

"Good, only a brief note to Zee and Chris. They don't need to waste more revenge on petty criminals. Good with you Ella?" I ask my niece

"Yea. They need to move forward. Mom needs to find a soulmate and learn to live a free life. Not trapped in the family games."

"Well, the family game is gone. Frankie and Chucky here will make sure. We've all had too much family bullshit. It's time to live and be happy."

"Once Uncle Evil is dead." Ella speaks, like Chris does when hate rises up.

"Sharp and Jason will make that happen soon. Very soon.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

c-pov two weeks later:

The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. The world rotates and spins around a star. The fates roll dice and crap on some, gifts others. We are here in the now, locked in the time of relativity. Time is meaningful only to humans. Man is drive to make a mark, define a time as the best, the good days. The happy times. Reality is time doesn't care; we exist in the life of this rotating rock not but a millisecond in its lifetime. Time again rears its head. Time, events are classed to each of us. The worst of days for me is the best of times for others. I mark a page in the book of my life. Let all my pain well up and overtake the man.

I slipped the dogs, left Jason and Luke behind. Slipped out and stand here in the Seattle rain, watching the last rabid animal. Watching the man who destroyed my mother. Destroyed what should have been. Took the spirit from her. I move behind him. He sees only the target. My sisters sipping coffee and staring out into the rainy shadowed waters of Puget Sound. The deserted Great White Fleet Pier is nearly empty.

The hunter is stalking towards the staked goat. I watch my sister smile into the rain. The dark days are nearing an end. Either in his death or ours.

"Well! Well! The families All here" I shout as I throw my fist into the back of his head.

We look into a bloated diseased face of Uncle Vicente. "Hi Uncle! We have some questions?" We haul him to the far rail and handcuff him to it.

"Why? Why couldn't you let it go?"

"Haaa! Call the police; I'm tired, and you bore me. YOU TWO DON'T DESERVE THE TRUTH." He laughs at us.

Five minutes later: The bloody heap of shit whimpers for mercy. "Why? The truth!"

"She took everything from me. Deb was the bitch that took my mother, my money, my place in the family. I was the first male. Everything should have been me. Mine! Don't you get! Don't you understand? I was first male born; I was the blessed one!"

We shake unbalanced, following the madman's screwy logic.

"She was the golden child. The prodigy! The gifted one. I was always the afterthought, the crazy one. Only Ike ever took me seriously. Made me a man. I showed my slutty sister; Deb sucked my dick whenever I demanded it. So, did you Zeruiah. If I had you Grey. You would have begged me like you begged the pimp."

"She raised you when your mother was too stoned or crazy to take care of you!" My sister screams

"She was always taking thing from me. Don't break that, don't kill the squirrels, the cats, dogs. She was always telling me no, never encouraging me to grow and be a man. A man who takes what he wants from the lesser inferior beings as a God demands: As I was destined. As my right I should. Ike showed me how to be a man. I remember the brown slut when I was six. The taste of her brown blood as she died with my belt around her neck. The pleasure, power it gave me. Althoughs wasted years exiled in a mad house. I will have my revenge; my prodigy is even now making Ella and Frankie beg for their lives. They will be dead! A I will be free and clear. Your beating a chained man is a clear: GET OUT OF JAIL CARD"

"Well your wrong as usually. This bloke is your prodigy and his side kick." Ferguson walks up flanked by the guys. He dumps two head on the pier. Taking a handcuff key, he releases Vicente. Vicente is stunned silent.

"you guys head out, me and Vic are going to have a talk. Leave!" Ferguson barks at us.

I feel hands pulling us back, away. Anna and Ella haul us away. We lose sight of Ferguson, Vicente and Ray on the far end of the pier.

At the rail: Ray-pov

Well Vic, this little in-haler is a designer specialty from MI-6. Destroys the brains control of the body, instant limp vegetable. Your going to spent a long life in a small room; soiling yourself, with all your higher function and no control of anything: speech, taste, hearing, smell not a damm thing. Trapped in your head. Bloke. You're going to get every family photo, video, every happy time, for decades."

Vicente throws himself over the rail into the Sound. Except instead of a splash, a thud sounds up from the water. Leaning over as a swift boat explodes from under the pier. Anna Godfather flips me the bird. As the boat disappears into the foggy rain.

I turn to Ferguson sniffing the inhaler. ?

"just Sinus stuff minus the label. Had to give him a choice. Makes everything neater. After all; we can swear he jumped over the railing, pity that freighter chewed him up. You know those cargo carriers have bloody big propeller's and just suck poor evil shits into them. Well it early but I could use a drop of wee-single malt to cut the gloom of this Irish morning."

"Irish Morning?"

"Well, Raymond you draft American. It's never rainy or gloomy in Scotland. Only the Irish have this infernal weather. Or you Americans, but your mostly British or Irish. Pity the sorry country you have." Ferguson laughs in the car.

I dump a cold coffee on the Scotsman. "Single malt sounds good."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Zee-pov

The house is bright, the music is blaring. The evil in gone and we don't care anymore. I watch the girls dance teasing the guys. I watch my daughter dance like she has never dance before. Free! I feel hands on my waist, as Anna drags me into the female mosh pit. We dance I feel the love and happiness. I feel the world is perfect for once.

Dawn:

I sit with my mother Ella's plant on the patio of Grey Manor. The Citrus Jambhiri: Cape Rough Skinned Lemon is the oldest variety of lemon in South Africa. From the island of St. Helena. It was named for its bumpy, uneven thick-skinned yellow fruit, and is sweeter than other lemon varieties. The tree should be upright with a roundish crown, growing to an average 3 to 6m in height, and has sharp thorns on the branches. It has dense foliage, and the leaves are oval shaped, and a dark, slightly glossy green. Our is barely 3meters, broken twisted crown covered in thorns and sparely leaved, many with a yellow tint or streak.

The stunned branches, the deep scars from the battery acid, have torn the plant noble visage to a nightmarish silhouette. The deep emotions this plant invokes in me. My mother planted this from a seed in kindergarten, and grew her tall and strong till evil violated it. I watch the buds on the branches. This simple cape lemon tree, has never flowered. Never given fruit. Her pain was so bad, she has never known joys of gifting her bounty.

I feel strong arms of love around me. my brother looks happy, tired. Anna must have kept him hopping all night. With that just sexed my brains out shit eating grin. I see Anna tea cup in hand inside the French doors.

I've told the tree tale to him. We watch the dawn rise over the house and fill the patio with light. I watch a fisherman cruise by headed for a leisurely day chasing fish here on Lake Washington. I feel Christian stiffen and pull my face back to Mother's Lemon tree.

The buds on the branches are unfolding into vivid white five star with a brilliant yellow center. I watch as bees drift into to taste the strange pollen of this South African transplant. The Tree is flowering, I know in my heart she will fruit. The love we have given her has healed her. I feel the tears fall; I don't care. I see my mother in TC's arms along the steps. The tree is flowering, the dark days are gone, Forever!

C-pov

I cry with my sister, the tree Ella's grew, nursed back from hell. That has never flowered is doing just that. for the third time in my life; I cry for my mother; the first time I will cry in joy for her; the first time I know what redemption is. this time I know tomorrow is always going to be brighter. I feel my wife's arm embrace us. I feel the family embrace us.

"Winston don't you DARE!" has he sniffs the flowers. He yawns and flops down at our side. He rolls on his back for a tummy rub. I pet my dog, letting the world turn without us. For we are frozen in this happy place and time, for a little while.