The Daughters of Maitland Valley: A Collection of Short Stories and Poems

By Shelley L. Jones-Hubbard

In this collection of short stories, six womens tales of despair illuminate the horror and sadness of domestic abuse, rape, teenage pregnancy, childhood neglect, and addictions. Set in the small fictitious community of Maitland Valley near Wingham, Ontario, The Daughters of Maitland Valley provides insights into the many issues women deal with in todays societyissues that are not particular about age, race, religion, or financial status.

In the story What Fruit May Fall, Jessica, who is seven months pregnant, recalls the day she lost her virginity during a rape eighteen years ago. Dirty Water tells of a thirty-year-old woman whose mother abandoned the family when she was twelve. She still feels the loss keenly and wishfully imagines that she sees her mother as she goes about her daily life.

Including a variety of poems as well, The Daughters of Maitland Valley provides insight into the tragic situations women often face. It seeks to empower women to seek help and guidance to deal with the problems they endure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469766683

Shelley L. Jones-Hubbard

Shelley L. Jones-Hubbard has been writing professionally since 1993 and has published numerous newspaper editorials, magazine articles, short stories, and poems. Jones-Hubbard is also a personal support worker for people with disabilities. She has four grown daughters and lives in Wallaceburg, Ontario.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Shelley L. Jones-Hubbard

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4697-6667-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4697-6669-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4697-6668-3 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 01/31/2012

CONTENTS

Preface

ONE FOR THE ROAD

What Fruit May Fall

Pamela, Pickled Tink

The Child Within

Flying

Dirty Water

The Child’s Farewell

Sins of the Fathers

The Resurrection of Cindy Semple

A Strong Woman versus a Woman of Strength

Dedicated with much love to my own beloved daughters, Jolanda, Kristin, Holly, and Meagan.

Preface

This book is a work of fiction and is comprised of short stories that are based on the dilemmas and tragedies that affect the lives of too many women in today’s society. In this book, the female characters live in the area of my rural hometown, but the challenges they face are not limited to the small town girl.

These real-life tribulations include domestic violence, rape and sexual assault, alcohol addictions, gambling addictions, teen pregnancy, abandonment issues, etc. I believe that women everywhere—regardless of race, financial status, and religion or ethnic background—can relate to some of the issues that are portrayed in my stories.

It is my hope that readers, young and old, will enjoy my book—and that women who are faced with these problems will realize that they are not alone and will be empowered to seek help for whatever difficulties they themselves may be facing.

ONE FOR THE ROAD

Blessed is the person who perseveres under trial,

And the heart that can share It’s abode.

I’ve known you for a sometime wee while …

Pour me some friendship~

One for the road.

Friends do bear one another’s stress;

And just being mine, you’ve supported the load.

I love you as siblings would, I’ll confess …

Pour me some understanding~

Beautiful is the person who’s honest as well,

And whose heart follows this mode.

Tempered through teasing, he and she do not fail …

Pour me some awe~

Playing and teasing can be love disguised;

With love between them, friendships mayn’t erode.

And though some form of taunts come in lies …

Pour me some laughs~

People come and people go;

Some take a part of us away.

People come and you must know …

Some leave a part of them to stay.

Whether we like them or do not

The latter comes to pass.

Even through hearts borrowed or bought,

Bits and pieces are how our hearts are cast.

So I guess there will someday be a space

At least on my part

According to what I believe: a face, faces …

A memory of you all, within my heart.

I leave with you these memories.

I leave with you, myself, within these lines …

And on a page or two, perhaps you will also see a glimpse of you.

Pour me some mystery~

One for the road …

~Shelley. L. Jones-Hubbard~

What Fruit May Fall

In the grocery store, the floors shone like hot wax, reminding me of school days and stories of boys with mirrors on their shoes. I was feeling tired in my seventh month of pregnancy as I rolled my watermelon belly down the produce aisle. The sticky sweet smell of fruit made me sick. It, too, reminded me of my youth.

The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, Jessica, my ma used to say. And I never questioned her about this, although I didn’t fully understand the expression. Ma had an expression for everything, it seemed.

I was thirteen years old the summer that I came into womanhood. It was hot and sticky that year—the kind of weather that made you want to peel off all your clothes and lie beneath a shade tree somewhere. I remember that heat and the flies and mosquitoes. And the buzzing. The unbearable buzzing … It was a bad year for insects. Humidity brings them out, I reckon.

It was during this year, 1976, that I became familiar with the ways of women. Or perhaps I should say that I learned the direction and the role that most women within Maitland Valley were expected to take, back in those days. Weren’t much for folks in the valley to do except work hard, play hard, and sleep. It was grown-up play, in particular, that had me curious. And frightened. I was so terrified, and yet intrigued, by the notions of sex and all of the consequences that surrounded having sex. With adolescent hormones racing, my imagination provoked near nightmares! And the mere thoughts of becoming like my mom had me sitting ’neath the moon spilling my guts to God—or to Anyone or Anything up there in that big azure sky who would listen to the whimsical dreams and fears of a child.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. As I mentioned already, I turned thirteen that summer, and I was only beginning to notice my body, which was quickly developing the shape of a woman. My emotions were a turbulent roller-coaster ride most days, and I felt desire for boys like I had never before imagined that I could! Puberty was, at best, a disconcerting phase.

Denny MacKenzie, a young boy from school whom I believed that I loved with my whole heart, could make my tummy flutter and my soul sing with the merest whisper of a word. It didn’t matter a whit to me that my parents disliked him. They were also not fond of his father, Denville Sr.

Denville MacKenzie Sr. was a lawyer in Maitland