Tag: family

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

Back in the Saddle
Two weeks after her marriage Sarah Fielding had a visitor. She
was cleaning and rearranging cupboards in the pantry when she
heard the thud of a horse’s hooves in the backyard. Through the
window she could see that it was not Ben as she had expected, but a
stranger dismounting from his horse.
He stood for a moment and looked towards the stables before
walking to the back door. When Sarah opened it, the young man
removed his hat to reveal a head of curly auburn hair. His smile
reached to his eyes and lit up his face.
“How do you do, Mrs. Fielding? I’m Dave McNeill. Live over there
about a mile.” He jerked his thumb in a south-westerly direction.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. McNeill,” Sarah said cheerfully,
“you’re the first neighbour I’ve had the privilege of meeting.”
“It’s Dave, please. Is Ben around?”
“Yes, I believe he’s gone over to that field behind the stable.” She,
too, pointed.
“Oh, the north pasture. Thanks, Mrs. Fielding, I’ll see if I can find
him.”
He replaced his hat, and was turning away when Sarah, surprising
even herself, said quickly, “But won’t you come in? I was just
going to make a cup of coffee. Would you like one? And,” she added
stepping aside to let him enter the kitchen, “I’d be pleased if you’d
call me Sarah. I’m not used to Mrs. Fielding yet.”
“Right, Sarah it is then. We’ve been anxious to meet you, Penny
and me.” At Sarah’s questioning look, he added, “Penny’s my wife.”
Sarah bustled from the pantry to the kitchen and back again,
anxious to get the coffee started before her visitor should become
impatient and decide he had to go. But he seemed in no hurry.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073530

Redemption

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excerpt

mother had waited for him to get up so she could talk to him, so she
could look at him, so she could look at her first and only child, a man
now, a graduate from the university, her pride. All night, she wondered
about what to prepare for him, what to treat him with. She knew it was
difficult for him to live away from his mother’s touch while studying
in the city, attending classes, writing exams, and all. She had prepared
some cheese pies of her own recipe with lots of sugar and cinnamon,
which she knew he loved. She expected him to rise late since he had
travelled all day yesterday; she fixed his coffee and walked to his bedroom.
To her surprise, he was not only awake but also dressed.
Hermes’ father, George Dragakis, was a fifty-two-year-old man
who grew up in the orphanage, placed there by his mother, a young,
unmarried woman who got pregnant out of wedlock. George grew up
in the orphanage until he reached the age of eighteen, when he went
back to the village where his mother and natural father lived. He had
two stepsiblings on his mother’s side: a brother, Demetre, who lived
in Athens, where Hermes stayed while in school, and a sister, Katerina,
who lived somewhere in Germany. He also had a few stepsiblings
from his natural father’s side, but his father had never told Hermes
how many there were and whether they had any children.
Hermes’ father was a reticent man, and it was rare to be able to
start a conversation with him. It was Hermes’ mother, Despina, who
told him the story about his father and how they got married soon
after he came back to the village from the orphanage. Despina was a
chubby sixty-four-year-old woman, a saint, as her son thought of her.
She had only love in her heart, so much love for everyone, but mostly
for her only son Hermes, who was her pride.
“Oh, Mother,” he said affectionately and embraced her. “I will
have to leave you soon after breakfast because I need to go up to the
monastery. I promise we will have a long talk when I come back.”
“Why do you need to go to the monastery, son?”
“I need to look for something in their library. I will go by the
orchards to say good morning to Father first and then carry on from
there. I will be back for lunch.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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excerpt

Keith nodded. “Well, that’s something I want to talk to you about. I can
help you and I want you to help me.” His room bookings for the following
year, when the lodge would be completed, were with Americans and
a handful of Europeans – not a single Canadian on the reservation list.
“You seem to have a great capacity for publicity and getting media attention,
and I’d like you to help me. In return, you can come and stay here,
have the use of airplanes – anything you want. But I need you to help me
to get people to come.”
Ken thought about the problem and suggested a slide show in his studio
with multiple projectors. He enlisted the help of Avril and Roberto;
they commandeered Tergey, the young Norwegian pilot who worked for
the lodge.
As Keith had predicted it wasn’t long before they heard the sound of
an approaching float plane that glided to a landing on the lake. It pulled
up to the dock and two men stepped out. They shook hands and asked
Ken what he was doing at the lodge. “Fishing with my son,” he said, and
excused himself, explaining that it had been a long trip and they were
tired.
They crawled into their sleeping bags, pulled caribou hides over them,
and drifted blissfully off to sleep. Too soon, a hand shaking his arm woke
him. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” Keith said.
Joan Scottie, a reserved and beautiful Inuk woman, had been born
about two miles down Ferguson Lake. “Joan has been a friend for years,”
Keith said. “She’s here to help us finish building the lodge. She is the most
capable human being you will ever encounter. There isn’t anything she
can’t do. She was born in an igloo and is a computer expert. She is also
the finest hunter and fisher you will ever meet.”
Joan was also a photography buff. She took Ken to her hut near Keith’s
home and showed him a collection of photographs. Her Scot and Inuk,
father, Basil Scottie, who was almost totally deaf and dumb, glared fiercely
at the camera. Another photo showed her family, two men, and seven
women, standing formally in a row, dressed in bleached white hides with
intricate designs.
“I think I have been where these pictures were taken,” Ken said, studying
them. “But I can’t be sure.”
“Yes,” she said. “They were taken near here and you were there.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard.”
“Who told you?”
“Old folks.”
“I had an incredible experience – a horrible experience that never left
me. It was somewhere in this region – a lot of people died.”
“Yes, I know.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562830

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

Jazz with Ella

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excerpt

It was delicious and she washed it down with a sip from a tumbler full of what appeared to be neat spirit. She was sitting in the family’s combination living and dining room where the ornate, antique table was laden with small plates of food. Wise in the ways of Russian dining from having partied with Ukrainians and Polish, she knew that these were only the zakuski, the appetizers, and that a more substantial meal would follow. “No, really, now I’m full up.” At least the food is dampening the effects of the vodka, she thought. “How about you, Paul?”
The man referred to as Paul looked up from a plate of bread and sausage and smiled shyly. “Thank you. You are good hosts,” he murmured.
“Your Russian is so good. Did you study long in university?” asked Marta of Paul while Misha seemed distracted and regarded Jennifer solemnly. Paul-Volodya did not reply right away and Marta was interrupted by the sound of something bubbling on the stove. The afternoon so far had been wonderful, full of affectionate hugs and cheerful toasts toward Jennifer, friendship in which she reciprocated and in which Paul had been generously included. Their daughter, Nadya, was at school but the couple promised that she would return home very soon.
After refreshment, the cousins had spoken of their own hopes to leave the Soviet Union and live in Canada. The nervousness with which they raised the topic and the intensity with which they spoke made Jennifer realize how important this move was to them. They would need help and support in Canada. She didn’t know much about Canadian immigration laws, but wouldn’t they need a sponsor? Someone from within the country—a relative who would vouch for them, promise to provide for them? She thought at first of her mother as the closest relative but had an uneasy feeling these two were grooming their newfound cousin for the role.
Yet nagging questions persisted. Were they truly related to her? She wondered at their eagerness. They seemed to have everything here: a private apartment of their own, not too big but with a balcony that gave a view of the playground opposite. Their daughter enjoyed school and Young Pioneers, they said, and they were both working, he as a technician and she as a bus driver. This last gave Jennifer pause as she tried to envision the dainty, polite Marta in the driver’s seat of a soot-black, fume-spewing bus, but she knew that the Soviet Union was ahead of the west in ensuring women joined the work force in many non-traditional jobs. Marta worked shifts so was off-duty right now…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

Redemption

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excerpt

insisted, so his uncle and auntie said their farewells at home. Eleni
and Hermes met in a nightclub a couple of years ago on the island of
Ios, where they were both vacationing. Hermes loved to play with her
blonde hair, and he mostly enjoyed letting his eyes dive deep into her
blue eyes.
He walked toward the deck bar, passing by the pretty tourist
girl sunbathing. It was not easy to walk along with all these people
sitting or lying around on the deck.
He ordered a cold coffee and glanced around. Next to him was
an old man drinking his lemonade: tough features, wrinkles on
his face, white hair, black circles around his eyes. The old man felt
Hermes’ glance and turned toward him:
“And where are you from, young man?”
“From around here, Uncle,” Hermes answered, imitating the
old man’s accent. It was customary to address an older man as “Uncle”
when one didn’t know his name. Whenever coming to the island,
Hermes liked to talk with an accent close to the locals to conform to
their ways as much as possible.
His coffee was brewed, and he took a slow sip to check it out.
The old man observed his ritual manner, satisfied.
“Could I ask you something, Uncle?” Hermes felt the need to
kill the silence between them.
“Sure. What is it, my son?”
“The island, why is it called Crete?”
The old man raised his eyebrows. Not many people asked this
kind of question.
“We call it Crete because it means wines and meats.”
Hermes was surprised. He never knew. Did this mean that this
island used to be fertile and fruitful, and the people never had to
worry about their food?
The old man turned and asked him.
“What do you do in Athens, my son?”
“I attend the university, Uncle. I am graduating this year.”
“Oh, you are a sand pebble then.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/4172538#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763858

Savages and Beasts

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excerpt

Despite all the atrocities the Indian children have experienced
the system couldn’t change them, couldn’t mould them to
their ways. Why these kids can’t become like the proselytizing
Anglos? What keeps them and sustains them and they remain
Indians? How these savages know how to maintain their beliefs
and way of life despite the efforts of the occupiers and proselytizing
church fathers? The only answer lies in the natural abilities of
these savages to never compromise their beliefs and rights which
is the only way they can maintain their sense of goal and purpose
in life. And so they take the hits and strikes and punishments
while they maintain their composure and their rigidity knowing
well in their hearts that what goes around comes around. Truly
this has kept them alive and strong and optimistic that one day
things might turn to their favor.
Suddenly a thought came to Anton, an epiphany one could
say: he could go and take up studies as his father would like him
to do. Yes that could be his future, a higher diploma and a new
career. A university in the East would serve well in that respect
and Mary could feel good to go with him. Yes, a new beginning.
He couldn’t wait until he asked Mary what her feelings would be
for something like that.
❧
Marcus and Lucas got very angry upon learning about last night’s
incident and the light punishment Mr. Wilson received from
Father Jerome. George was very angry too, so was Anton, but
both Anton and George knew the law had to be abided and vigilante
solutions weren’t the best under the circumstances. So they
only hoped that the RCMP would charge the teacher and the
case would end up in a court of law where he would be sentenced
properly. However these explanations weren’t at all satisfactory
to the two Indian youths who would like to see the guilty man…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Water in the Wilderness

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excerpt

“Coffee, soup and ham sandwiches,” she announced as she laid the tray down on the table in front of them. She handed a paper napkin and a bowl of soup to Tyne. “Now eat. I don’t plan to take any of this back to the cafeteria.”
Tyne grinned at her aunt, and told herself she would do her best to comply.
Their lunch finished, they waited for Moe to come from the ward to tell them they could go in again. When Tyne looked at her watch, she realized that little more than an hour had passed. Then suddenly Moe, in her crisp white uniform, appeared at the door.
“Okay kiddo, you can see Bobby again. He’s rousing, and his vital signs are stabilizing.”
Tyne jumped to her feet and turned to her aunt. But Millie shook her head. “You go ahead, Tyne. I’ll see him tomorrow. He doesn’t know me well, and he doesn’t need to see a strange face staring at him when he wakes up. And take your time, dear. I’m fine here.”
Tyne reached down to pat Aunt Millie’s hand before she followed Moe through the door and towards the childrens’ ward.
“How about Ronald? Has he settled? He was upset when I saw him.”
Moe opened the door and motioned Tyne to go ahead of her. “He had a sleep, and he ate something when he woke up. He’s going to be all right … except for the frostbitten parts. Those are still a question mark, I’m afraid.”
Tyne stepped through the door, but stopped when she saw Dr. Bryce Baldwin speaking to a white-clad nun near Bobby’s bed. Moe left her side and walked towards them, and the three of them conversed for several minutes. The sister was making notes on a chart – Bobby’s chart, presumably. Then she turned her head slightly in Tyne’s direction. Dark lively eyes below her wimple highlighted a pretty face as she spoke to the two people with whom she consulted. Moe said something, and nodded in Tyne’s direction. The sister turned towards her, a smile lighting her eyes. She handed the chart to Moe and started towards the door where Tyne stood.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

The Circle

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excerpt

“Come in, my son, come in. Let me introduce you to the Minister of Finance,
Omar Salem. Here’s one of my sons from the United States, minister. His name
is Talal Ahem.”
Omar Salem looks at Talal and smiles.
“He’s one of the seven?”
“Yes.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” Talal says, and shakes the man’s hand.
“You, too, Talal Ahem,” says the minister. “Should we expect you to return
to your country soon?”
Ibrahim smiles with obvious pleasure as he tells the minister, “He’s a
chemical engineer.”
“A chemical engineer, very good; now, this is a man our country needs, don’t
you think, my good friend, Ibrahim?”
“Yes, of course. Yes, our country needs all her talents to help her in our years
of development.”
“Please tell me, Ibrahim, when your dearest son Hakim will visit us?”
“I hope very soon in the new year, minister.”
Talal shakes the hand of the minister once again and leaves him with Ibrahim
in the study. He finds Emily in the garden and they walk together for a while.
She’s curious to know what happened.
“Who’s meeting with Ibrahim, honey?”
“It’s the Minister of Finance for Iraq.”
“Well, it certainly seems Ibrahim is well-connected here.”
“He’s well-connected all over the world, my love. What surprises me,
though, is that there are seven of us in the United States.”
“What do you mean, seven of you?”
“Hakim and I are in the United States thanks to Ibrahim’s money. Now, I
find out there are another five who have gone to the states for studies, just as
Hakim and I did. I only know Ahmed, in Los Angeles whom I see often, but who
are the other four and where are they?”
“Why did Ibrahim send you if you are not a blood relative?”
“My mission is to be with Hakim and make sure he never feels alone, nor gets
into trouble. To make sure nothing bad happens to him.”
They walk hand in hand, silently, while Talal tries to figure out who the rest
of the seven could be and where they may be now. There must be a reason the old
man sent us all to the United States. Talal knows he needs to find that out before
they return home, so he can brief Hakim before he gets involved with Bevan and
his plans.
“Tomorrow we’re going to the gulf. Are you not excited?” he asks Emily.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Arrows

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…how to use the strainer made of woven palm leaves. She took me to a
kind of oven that consisted of a circular structure with a large, flat
earthen plate on top and a fire burning underneath. I poured the
grated root and scattered it into a more or less round cake. I stood
there watching over it, lest it burn. I admired my first cassava cake,
an irregular spill, and fingered it so often that it cracked into pieces. I
ate it that night—it tasted like triumph.
From a tree beside the hut where I slept, I ate mamones by the
dozen, playing with the big, velvety seeds in my mouth until my
teeth felt as if they would fall out. The guavas, which had disgusted
me because of the little worms that sometimes infested them, I now
ate with delight—worms and all.
In time, I learned to differentiate the people of the Teque nation
from the others, who remained indistinguishable. Pure joy filled me
when, thanks to the boys who had taught me to use a bow, I
contributed a small, wild pig. After that, people spurned me less.
Tiaroa, Guacaipuro´s sister, came to me one day and offered me
an onoto—a red-dyed, sleeveless, hoodless tunic. My cassock was in
tatters, but it was the significance of the gift that left me speechless:
they had accepted me. I took the tunic and went to Tamanoa´s grave
to show it to him, so that he could rest assured that I was making
progress.

Weeks turned into months. I kept my distance from Apacuana. As
far as I could tell, she was not living with Baruta, and yet she was not
with other men either. Sometimes when I went to my cave to pray, I
would wonder to myself what might happen if she ever followed me
there, and I struggled to dismiss these thoughts, and often flayed
myself accordingly.
I preferred to make progress teaching my language to
Guacaipuro. If he could one day learn to read the New Testament,
he might be awakened to the ways of our Lord. I often ate at his
house and exchanged words with him. He was particularly puzzled…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

When she recovered from her grief over Danny, Sarah accepted a
teaching post at Corkum in the northern part of the province. But
her tenure there was short lived. In the spring of 1942, Mrs. Roberts
suffered a stroke. Sarah applied for a leave-of-absence to take care
of her mother during her convalescence. But Mrs. Roberts never
did convalesce satisfactorily, and Sarah was forced to admit that her
mother had won. For five years Sarah found herself tied to the neat
brick house in Tillsonburg – nursing, cooking, cleaning, gardening
and doing everything except that for which she had been trained.
Apart from trips to the store to purchase their meagre supplies,
Sarah went nowhere. She saw no one except Margaret and Elizabeth
and, since the former was preoccupied with wedding plans
and the latter was nursing in a hospital in Toronto, she didn’t even
see much of them. Visitors to the Roberts’ home were few because it
hadn’t taken Mrs. Roberts long after her husband’s death to alienate
almost all of their friends.
There was no hope of meeting a man. The veterans began to
drift back to town when the war ended, some with brides, some to
the sweethearts they had left behind. But even the unattached ones
seemed to have forgotten that Sarah existed, or maybe they still regarded
her as Danny’s girl. Soon, almost all of the young men had
married or had drifted off again to more promising venues.
When her mother died Sarah applied for teaching posts but the
school year had already started and a shortage of teachers was a
thing of the past. She had been out of the profession for more than
five years, as had most of the teachers who were now returning to
it. But ex-servicemen and women were, naturally, given preference
over someone who had been caring for a sick parent.
On a grey, cold day in October, three weeks after her mother’s
death, Sarah sat dumbfounded in the office of Roger Corbett, her
parents’ lawyer. She was trying to understand what he had just said
but she felt too numb to take it in.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Mr. Corbett continued, “I wish there was
something I could do. Twice during the past year I went to see her,
as you know. And I went specifically to suggest that she change her
will. But she acted as if she didn’t understand what I was talking
about.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073530