L.A. Artemis

By Dane Alder Mission

A lonely small-town girl acquires an unusual book about mythology. After using an ancient curse, she abandons the book but keeps it with her. As an older woman, her status changes. She becomes chronically ill, reclusive, and introverted. At the urging of others, she opens her home to two Katrina migrants. Her world expands, and it explodes when unexpected events sends six grandchildreninfantsto live with her. These three women never handled problems in a usual way. They do things on their own terms and each offer unique styles. People matter, including the poor. Let the adventure begin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466920125

Dane Alder Mission

Dane Alder Mission is a retired nurse with lupus.

Book preview

L.A. Artemis

Dane Alder Mission

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©

Copyright 2012 Dane Alder Mission.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4669-2013-2 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4669-2011-8 (hc)

isbn: 978-1-4669-2012-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012905599

Trafford rev. 06/04/2012

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Contents

Chapter-1    The Presence of clouds

Chapter-2    A New Beginning and New Friends

Chapter-3    Unthinkable tragedy

Chapter-4    Victims

Chapter-5    Walking barefoot on broken glass

Chapter-6    The Beast and I OR K.I.S.S: Keep It Simple Stupid

Chapter-7    Fragmented

Chapter-8    Disposable People

Chapter-9    Architectural Jewels

Chapter-10    Guarantee Extended

Chapter-11    What was the weather report?

Chapter-12    The Motherland

Chapter-13    Relevant Inhumanity

Chapter-14    Skunk Targets

Chapter-15    This Beautiful Place

Chapter-16    That Special Day

Chapter-17    It is HE!

Chapter-18    Providence and Transition

Chapter-19    Nine kinds of Joy

Chapter-20    Can this get any weirder?

Epilogue

This book is in honor of my daughter, Anne; she was with us for a while. She will always be here in my heart. I love you.

D.

Characters:

Dell Greenaway-legal name

Celestine Adorn Lynley-Birth name

Dell Stefhan-Married name

Pen names-Dane Alder Mission

Amber Allison

Daisy French

Nicola Winfield, etc.

Houseguests:

Lucy Rose O’Rose

Ina Addie March

Richie O’Rose

Part I

Chapter-1

The Presence of clouds

Since the ferment and progression of human beings, there has always been the fortunate, the ones in the middle, and the poor. Add to the mix the feral animals that prey on everyone and do so without feelings or regard to the people they step on and abandon, simply because they do not have more to offer. Is there a value of human life and what makes one person more valuable than the other? In the end few feel anything for what happens or becomes of those feral animals, women and men.

This is the story as was told to me, it begins with a child. This child was born to parents, who did not want children. There she was, her mother bonded with her early, and then left her to the care of her grandfather, the reason she had red hair.

That’s not my child. Her father said.

Sure not mine, I have coal black hair. Her mother said with pride.

She has dark auburn hair like her grandmother. It flames in the sun. The grandfather said.

Her grandmother passed away after her father was born, he had no memory of her. All the photographs in those days were black and white. The child was cared for and loved by her grandfather. He fed, bathed, clothed, and nurtured her; they were the best of friends. Her mother named her Celestine Adorn Lynly, she could not say that. She could sing, The Farmer in the Dell, just that line over and over, so her grandfather called her, Dell.

My little Dell. He would say, proudly.

He loved buying her things and clothes; together they would walk through the small town. An ice cream cone for them was a cherished treat and toys for his ‘little Dell’ were always great.

Her grandfather was taken away too soon, and she was left to cope with her family alone.

When Dell was old enough to go to school, her mother took her on the first day. The mother insisted she to be called Celestine, as soon as she left, the young girl stood and asked to be called Dell. No matter how much the mother persisted, Dell was Dell. Her mother had a fourth grade education. Her father made it thru the eight grade, they believed education was unnecessary, but it was a law. Dell loved school and thrived in the environment, despite a few disadvantages.

As a child, her mother would not allow her to help with the housework or cooking. The mother could do it faster, than explain how to a child. She would tell her to go out and play and get out of the way. On Friday nights Dell was given money to go to the movies to get her out of their ‘home.’ At the movies she loved what she saw, a different life. She remembered almost every detail for days she would relive the stories in her mind and make up different endings and stories the way she wanted them to be. Often she would find bits and pieces and make props. Her grandfather’s tool shed was a favorite place to find materials; cardboard, wood scraps, and materials. All his tools used in his orchards; cycles, scythes, and the ominous tree trimmers. They were flat blades in a triangle shape attached to the top of a handle. Dangerous to the user and those near them. Later they became Illegal to own.

After she finished with her make believe stories, she wandered around the town. Then she discovered ways of making money, picking up coal by the railroad tracks and selling it to the best offers. She weeded gardens and mowed lawns with manual mowers, carried groceries home for older people in the community and ran errands. She became a child of the town. Small towns can be brutal; filled with gossips, unfounded judgments, and idle people. Dell was often an unknowing and uncaring victim. Dell’s little hoard of money grew, she needed a safe place. She asked the banker and he opened an account for her. She entered thru the back door when the bank was almost empty, placed her money on the banker’s desk and her statements were held at the bank. Her few cents became dollars, her dollars became more. She learned the joy of having and saving money. She purchased a few food items, but Dell just kept her money, unknown to her family and the town’s people.

The situation deteriorated at home, her father did odd jobs, and he never kept one very long. He loved driving; cars, trucks, anything with wheels, but those jobs did not last long either. He kept his money in a wallet with a chain attached on his belt, that chain! The inevitable and often invisible chains that we bind around us in our lives. When he was not working he spent his time hanging around the town talking to anyone that would listen. Even then Dell avoided him. He thought he was an expert on any subject. What he did not know, he made-up and became somewhat believable unless you were really familiar with him.

Her mother had several jobs also, one was cleaning a church. Her idea of cleaning was to go inside, sit in a pew and look for something dirty. They complained about her work, she was incensed and quit. There was the job at a local factory; she tried to tell her boss how to do her job, need-less-to-say that one lasted a week. After a court appearance when she was six, she understood none of it; her father became angry and hostile towards Dell, unless he wanted her to do something for him, he yelled at her. When she asked.

Why are you yelling?

So you will hear me, you have a hard head and I have to get thru. Jus’ do what I say. Always do what I tell you. He replies.

His cruelty only grew with time, if Dell disagreed with him; it was whack across the cheek.

Jus’ do as I say. Jus’ do as you’re told. He would often reply, ‘no conversation and no opinion from Dell would be tolerated.’ His control attempts developed into an obstinate reaction from Dell.

Don’t talk back to me! He would yell and the infamous whack followed, even if she fell. She learned to keep her feelings inside. There they were safe and hers, alone.

No one knew or cared would anyone believe her or help her. Her mother never did.

It was little wonder Dell was out of the house as soon as she awaken. Her father complained about how much it cost to feed her, so she tried not to eat too much. For breakfast it was often a slice of bread, lunch was vegetables from the garden or fruit picked from near-by trees. She even sold some of the fruit, always by arrangement and picked fresh.

After Dell finished her jobs, her favorite place to hang out was an old oak tree between her home and the town. About half way up the tree an old injury probably from lightning caused the tree branches to split in five directions. This was a natural seat and sometimes a bed. Dell loved this space she could watch the world, observe their behaviors. In someone’s trash she found an old flat metal box and a broken umbrella; she took them to the tree. Pulling them up to her place thru the tree with a rope and placing them on broken stubs of branches, she kept food in the box and used the umbrella for protection against the rain.

Dell often thought of her real loving parents, coming and taking her home. She wanted to believe parents love their children and home is a place you want to be. She adopted movie stars and imagined having them as a family. Maybe royalty, a distance relative would remember a long lost child and come to offer her a beautiful place to live. These fantasies made life bearable.

Dell’s favorite thing was drawing, she had leftover supplies from school. She found paper behind the newspaper shop and always had a supply of magazines and newspapers to guide her. The old papers stored in the tool shed. She loved clothes probably because she did not have many. She would spend hours drawing designs over existing pictures or completely new drawings. She saved all the pictures she liked and keep the used newspapers in the tool shed. She also drew people, landscapes, and buildings. She had another bag for these articles.

Mrs. Henderson lived near the tree a sweet lady with an oval face and kind features, she would save newspapers and magazines for Dell. She gave her treats, candy and goodies. She never made her feel guilty. Dell was not allowed to go into houses of other people without her parents, so Mrs. Henderson and Dell would sit on the porch and discuss her drawings. They gave each other suggestions and they had a good time.

From the early days Dell learned to live from other’s discards. One of the ladies, Mrs. Hill, whose garden she weeded gave her some old clothes. Mrs. Henderson remade them for her. To Dell they were like new, certainly new to her. Dell’s mother always bought her two sizes to large, so she could wear them longer. By the time they fit, they were faded and the beauty of the garment was gone. Her mother often left clothes in the washer for a hour or longer to get them really clean. Dell did her own clothes by hand, they lasted longer and looked better. Once they were clean, she would hide them from her mother. Her mother just did the old clothes over and over and never noticed.

Dell was a happy child, she did not know a situation different from the one she had. She continued to dream her real parents would come and claim her, which never happen and she could not tell anyone. She thought about running away only would she be brought back to something worse.

Her father thought that since they had her, she could support them when she was older. After all she ‘owed’ them for all the food she had eaten. What an issue that was to him, but it was her mother that gained weight. She ate everything that would fit between her ears.

The next chain of events is rather complicated, but left a lasting impression. Mrs. Henderson asks to take Dell with her to a nearby town to see her sister. She did not like to travel alone and Dell was good company. As the sister’s talked, Dell noticed a garage sale next door. To her delight she found a dress, her size with ruffles and a lovely lavender color for only a dollar. Dell had some money with her and with Mrs. Henderson’s blessing purchased the dress, ‘her pretty dress.’ It was just right. Mrs. Henderson offered to launder and press it for Dell, which delighted her.

At this time her father obtained a job driving a commuter bus between the small towns. There were lots of small towns in the area like rural ghettos of foreign people that moved here and planted roots and now were several generations later. Her father loved this job and the people, who owned the company, lived in the town. Somewhat ostentatious, pompous people.

The other thing that happen, Dell obtained a book at the traveling library on mythology. When she returned it, she was told it was not one of their books. All the markings in the book had disappeared or someone else left it there. This began her love of gods and goddesses. She spent hours with the book, fascinated by the stories or those she could read.

Families go to church, Dell’s family did not. One day one of her class friends ask Dell to attend the service with her, part of a recruitment campaign. Dell wore her pretty dress and who was there? The bus owner’s family and her daughter had the same dress in green.

Where did you get that dress? The woman demandingly asked.

I bought it at a garage sale. Was Dell’s timid reply.

I paid full price for this dress in Jefferson City and what did you pay? She asked.

Dell knew this was trouble and gave a honest answer.

Shortly after this encounter, Dell came home to find her father washing one of the buses with her dress.

What are you doing with my pretty dress? She asked.

This old rag now that is all it is, now. He said with a laugh and tossed the dress on the porch, is was faded from the chemicals and badly stained. Dell squeezed out the water and tried to repair the damage, but it was a loss. Her father blamed her mother and she blamed him. The dress could not be salvaged and she did know who was responsible. She took her dress to the tree and savored a good memory. She forgave her father, but did not forget. She read an ancient curse from the mythology book and declared the people, who caused the problem and pushed it out of her mind. To her it was only words.

The next day her father was up early working in his garden. He was staggering, his speech was slurred, and he smelled funny, terrible.

Go up to the market and buy me some tomato and pepper plants. He barked.

I need some money. Dell said.

If you have money for trouble making dresses, then you should have money to put food on the table, now go. He shouted.

Dell went into the house and asks her mother for the needed funds. Her mother was sullen and indifferent.

Don’t involve me in problems you made. She spouted out.

Dell walked up to the market selling seedling plants to price them. One of the boys from her school was folding newspapers into trays for carrying the plants. Dell stood watching him, when Mrs. Hill, who lived near Dell’s home, approached them.

All those rag weeds and lamb’s quarter plants you have thrown over the fence have taken root. Soon they will be re-seeding the garden. Go out there and take care of them. She said.

Yes ma’am. Dell replied.

Dell went to the bank, but it was closed, Saturday. She took some of the newspaper trays and went to the area outside of the garden and began pulling the weeds. How similar to tomato and pepper plants these weeds look. She placed them with attached dirt in the trays. After the trays were filled, she carried them to her father’s garden. He was not there, so she just left them, while she went to the storm cellar on the way behind the tool shed were two barrels one cut in half and a smaller one with holes. The smaller one could be turned with a handle. Inside the small barrel was corn in a milky liquid.

That’s hominy, you leave it alone. It has to be turned once a day. I’ll do the turning. You do not touch it, hear. Her father said.

Dell just looked at him and turned to walk away. She remembered they never had made hominy in the past. She continued to the storm cellar a for a jar of pickled eggs; she had some sausages at the tree. While in the storm cellar Dell went to the stored potato bins and there she noticed boxes of jars all filled with clear liquid, they were labeled ‘mountain juice’ and hidden under the vegetables. The liquid smelled like her father. Over the next few hours she systematically took most of the clear liquid filled jars and buried them in the dirt floor of the tool shed under a table. They were covered with the newspapers and dirt. Her father was busy planting the ‘seedlings-weeds.’ Dell had intended to throw them on the compost pile. Horrified by what might happen, honesty was not working, she took the pickled eggs to the tree and thought about what to do next.

Not long after this incident, her mother told her that her father had gone to Omaha to work in construction. Dell thought it was strange that he did not say good-bye. Life was just better when he was gone; she got attention from her mother. Her mother took menial jobs around the town and did ironing for other people. If her father was working their life did not improve.

The bus owner and his wife drove to the house to give them the last check her father had earned. Dell talked politely to the wife, Mrs. Jaspers.

I heard that cheap dress you had like my daughter’s is gone. Mrs. Jaspers said.

Yes it was used for another purpose. What are those things on your face? Dell asks.

You impertinent child, asking me such a question. It is a type of wart and soon will be removed-gone. Mrs. Jaspers stated.

Is it catching, cause it looks like skin worms? Dell said.

Only if you come in contact with the fluid, low probability, understand? She said. Dell nodded ‘yes’ and stepped back. Mr. Jaspers and her mother joined them. They overheard the conversation.

I have been asking your mother to come and work for us. We are real sorry your father left. Mr. Jaspers said.

I have all I can handle now. The mother replied, uncomfortably.

We want to make up for the dress you lost, silly misunderstanding. He held out a bill and Dell noticed the ‘skin worms’ on his hand. Dell’s mother grabbed the money.

We will put this to good use. She said.

After they drove down the street, Dell’s mother declared,

We are goin’ into the city (Jefferson City), tomorrow.

I get to go, too. I’m not staying with auntie? Dell asked. Her auntie was nice but her son was just weird.

Your goin’ too, we will buy some dresses and some material to make petticoats. I have business in the afternoon, so you can go to a movie. Her mother stated.

Dell’s mother bought her three dresses at the dime store and unbleached muslin, trims for the ‘petticoats.’ It just wasn’t the same.

Now that is how you stretch money, three for the original price of that one. The mother declared. The dresses were too large and the petticoats looked like summer dresses. They stayed in the closet, the dress material was thin you could see through it and the thick petticoats did itch.

These trips happened once a month for the next few months. Dell got to buy some coloring books, paper dolls, and sometimes a real book. She always spent the afternoon at a movie of her choice. They had lunch at the dime store counter. Her mother usually ordered the turkey, dressing, and a milkshake and Dell a hamburger, French fries, and a coke. It was a fun time. It all ended when her father came home. By the time her father came home, the garden was gone and all the weeds and debris added to the compost. The weed seeds nestled into the ground waiting for spring. Dell had collected left over plants from the gardens she tended and planted them in her garden, along with her grandfather’s seeds in the tool shed. The garden was on the other side of the storm cellar and out of sight of the family. It had been a good crop, lots of produce and some of it sold, but the weeds had gone to seed and her father spent years battling them.

Her mother changed back to her old self. Most of the jobs ended and the trips to the ‘city’ were few.

The Jaspers moved to Jefferson City and sold the bus company since most of the employees developed warts and quit. The last anyone heard they were beset with bills. They lived in one of the vehicles behind her parent’s home. Their children lived with her parents in their house. They wanted Dell to come and live with them.

No, she will be of no use for a job if she has those things. That Jasper’s woman is covered with scars. Must be costing them a fortune to have them removed. The mother said. It was at that moment Dell remembered the curse and vowed she would not use it, again. Dell noticed her father in the storm cellar frequently afterwards he left for the town. She entered the storm cellar, searched around the many stored items and found a jar of money, tucked in a corner. She helped herself to a large amount as payment for her trauma. She knew stealing was wrong, but she sought that little bit of revenge and did it anyway.

Dell knew nothing about nutrition or a balanced diet. Fresh vegetables and fruits in the summer and sometimes she was given a sandwich by other people when she was working. She ate canned goods in the winter, she was thinking they would not be missed. Occasionally she purchased a hot dog or ice cream from a local fast food place.

The enviable happen; one day she stood in class to recite and passed out. The principal carried her to the local doctor’s office. Looking very thin and pale, she was found to be anemic and malnourished. He placed her on some vitamins and a diet high in iron.

Her parents arrived and blamed her.

She did this to herself; she jus’ wants to make us look bad. Her mother said.

She is always out and gone, we never know where she is. Her father replied.

Dell’s family usually ate their big meal at noontime, while Dell was gone or at school and had a snack in the evening. This night Dell’s mother made a big dinner for the family, but it was food Dell was not accustomed to eating; she only took a few bites and could eat no more.

That’s more for us. Her father said. This was the way the next few days went.

The doctor stopped by to check on Dell. The house was the usual mess. Dell’s room was sparse, neat, and unheated; except for the fireplace opening. The fireplace opened to both rooms, hers and the living room. She slept in her grandfather’s bed. She was weak and had a cough. The doctor gave her an exam and a shot of antibiotics. She had pneumonia.

I spend all my time taking care of her. I don’t have time for anything else. The mother said she did worry about what other people thought.

The doctor wrapped Dell in a blanket, picked her up and carried her out of the house, in minutes they were gone.

After a few days of not hearing any word, the father went to the constable’s office; the constable and the banker were talking.

We just want our daughter back. He said.

Your daughter is one of the hardest working person’s I have ever seen. The constable said. A surprise to Dell’s father, who had no idea how she spent her days.

She even has a bank account. The banker said, regretting his words.

What how much does she have? Dell’s father asks.

Never you mind, it’s hers. The banker replied.

The father was instructed not to interfere with Dell’s care. Some people had taken food to help Mrs. Henderson. Dell was feeling better.

That’s my food. The father replied.

That explains a lot, not everything given to Dell is yours. Have you learned nothing? You are to leave them alone. The constable instructed.

Dell spent two weeks with Mrs. Henderson, another of the best times in her life so far. They looked through art books, together. Mrs. Henderson had kept all of the pictures Dell had given her and made a book of them. They cooked, cleaned, and they made clothes from old pieces Mrs. Henderson said she no longer wanted. Real clothes and just for her. She took baths in a real bath tub; at home she took a bath in a portable tin type tub.

May I ask you a strange question? (Mrs. Henderson nodded yes.) What is it like to feel wanted and loved? Dell said.

Someday you will figure that out, dear, dear Dell. She replied.

The banker came to the house and told Dell about the bank account and how sorry he was for giving her father the information. Dell immediately went to the bank left five dollars in the account and opened a new one in the name of Dell Greenaway. Catherine Greenaway one of her favorite artist, an English illustrator, who drew adorable pictures of children.

The following day Dell’s mother was in the front yard.

It’s time you come home. You come on home now. You hear. She said in a demanding voice.

That night in a show of strength or who was the boss, Dell’s mother crept into her room and cut her hair, one long braid and an empty space in the back of her head.

Now who’s going to be embarrassed? She said.

Her father took her to the bank to close her account.

You don’t need money, I do. He said.

Poor Dell powerless to do anything, she just stood there helpless, her remaining hair hanging.

Five dollars, that’s all! A shave and haircut for me and a trim for her. The father said.

You can shave yourself. The banker replied.

The hot towel and all, it feels so good. Her father stated, smiling.

He took her to a barber shop.

I don’t want that. Dell said, her protest was unheard by her father.

The whole experience was humiliating for Dell. The barber even tried to put men’s hair oil on her. She ran out the back door in tears. He father only laughed.

Salted her tail. He said snickering.

Dell sat down on some steps, sobbing. She thought to herself, (the world is against me.) It was the back door of a beauty shop.

The beautician found her and understood what she needed. She gave Dell a shampoo and styled her hair, the back pulled to the center of her head in soft curls. Dell was never so pretty. Dell came by the beauty shop every evening for a week and cleaned. She polished the sinks, cleaned and filled the bottles, sanitized the combs, and brushes, and mopped the floor. When Dell left the place shined.

It was only a week later it began to rain. The rain turned to snow. A strong wind blew and piled the snow high. A neighborhood boy ran to the home, he told Dell that Mrs. Henderson had fallen and was asking for her. Her mother forbids her to go, but Dell was gone. Her plain brown shoes and socks were cold and wet, trudging up the hill to Mrs. Henderson’s home. She removed them at the door and placed them on a newspaper by the fireplace to dry, she had a dry pair of socks in her pocket.

Mrs. Henderson was lying in bed in pain.

She has a fractured hip and the ambulance cannot get thru. Even the heavy trucks are stalled. The doctor said.

Tell me what to do. Dell said.

Together they splinted her hip with wraps and pillows. He instructed her on how to do foot exercises to prevent blood clots. Her pain medicine gave her some relief, but Dell’s gentle touch and patience was what she needed most. Dell was sleeping in a chair by her bed.

Dell your father had some mountain medicine he made, you know, hooch. They only found three jars. Do you know where the rest is? Mrs. Henderson asked.

Some stuff in the storm cellar, labeled, ‘mountain juice.’ Dell said.

That’s it. Can you get me some? Mrs. Henderson asks.

Yes, if I don’t get caught by anyone. Dell said. At dusk, Dell trudged home and dug up a jar of the ‘medicine’ before returning to Mrs. Henderson. It was snowing hard and Dell shoes were beyond wearing, but that was all she had.

I think I owe you a pair of shoes and overshoes for this weather. That’s it, that’s it, now it’s to strong straight. You have to cut it with some water. Re-label it vinegar and store it in the cupboard. An old vinegar bottle is under the sink, just rinse it out and fill it with this jar. Rinse the ‘medicine’ jar an store it with the others. Mrs. Henderson said.

It sure has a lot of names. Dell said. Well whatever it was, she slept well. She had a glass every night. Dell spent four days cooking, cleaning, and keeping Mrs. Henderson comfortable.

Mrs. Henderson had a winter garden and storm cellar. The winter garden was located between a garage and a small barn about ten feet in distance. The sides were surrounded with bales of hay five feet tall, the center filled with loose hay. In the summer the loose hay was used as mulch for the regular garden. Under the hay were root vegetables; leeks, carrots, turnips, parsnips, and so forth, the tops a little cold burned, all very safe from the cold. The storm cellar held potatoes and onions and lots of canned items. Dell dove into the hay and gathered what she needed to make Mrs. Henderson’s favorite soup.

After the fourth day the ambulance came and took Mrs. Henderson to the hospital. A few days later wearing her new saddle oxfords and caring the galoshes, Dell stopped by the doctor’s office.

You did real well. Her hip had started to heal; they only had to put a pin in place. You have a knack of caring for people. The doctor said.

Dell smiled pleased she had done something right. Best of all she got a new pair of shoes her style.

Dell never spent another night in her bed, her place of comfort and safety. Her cut off pigtail had a use, it was placed on her pillow, an old blanket rolled and shaped in her bed with the covers pulled over all. Her mother never noticed, she seldom entered Dell’s room.

If Dell did sleep at home it was in a closet or under the bed. She used a side door to enter and exit the home. She slept in storm cellars, church pews, barns, and a cot in the back of the beauty shop; seldom at her parent’s home.

She worked all through high school cleaning businesses and churches, on weekends she had a waitress’ job. She was a phone operator and quickly learned the switchboard. She gave her mother money from time to time, but it was never enough. Her mother wanted it all. Her father would wait outside the restaurant to give her a ride home. Dell had ways of avoiding him. Many of the places where Dell worked provided meals for her and she was grateful. Before graduation Dell applied to a School of Nursing, her father opened the letter and sabotaged those plans. She had her mail held at the post office and applied to another school. She was accepted. As much as her parents tried to control her the more determined she became to lead her own life. She was not going to be like them. She was going to be the opposite.

Dell collected the things she needed for school and prepared to leave. She informed the constable and the banker of her plans for their information only. Dell really wanted a liberal arts education, but the university was expensive. Nursing was reasonable then and a good place to live. A washer and dryer and three meals a day. Everything she purchased for her school needs, her mother wanted, nothing ever changed with them. They accused her of being selfish and trying to be better than they were. Their final words were.

You cain’t go, you stay here with us and we will do right. Her father said.

It’s my life and I will live it on my terms. I’m leaving, the birds of the air and the beasts in the wild care for their young, what makes you so different? Are you so much less than them? There is a huge difference between being giving something through love and taking something just because you can though some displaced belief. Having a baby does not make a man a father or a woman a mother. Dell said.

Dell boarded a bus and never looked back. She became a nurse and life was great for her. She dated occasionally, nothing serious. On one second date, a young man professed his feelings, in disbelief Dell found someone that cared for her. She never planned to marry, but someone loved her to her amazement. He was narcissistic and he had her typecast; he made the most of her innocence and lack of experience. He asks her many times if she had been abused, but that part of her life was a shame to her and she did not talk to him about her past. After trying for ten years to make the marriage work at her sacrifice, she divorced him.

At the end of her marriage, she was diagnosed with lupus, an ugly illness that led her on emotional roller-coaster rides. Feeling good for a while and plunging her into a world of exhaustion, difficult to function, mental fog, and struggling to survive. During this time she enter seven nursing programs for an advanced degree, something always happen and she had to drop out. She was hauled back into court four of those times by the selfish ex-husband. She had two daughters and was determined to be a good mother. She took parenting classes, repeated a few of them to be sure she got it right, she raised her daughters by the book and with much love. After not being able to get a nursing degree, she settled for evening courses in literature, writing, English and so on, her true first love. She became the perpetual student, taking course after course at many of the area colleges and universities. This was just for her, so she told her daughters they were craft courses. After her classes, she would go to work, she worked the night shift, fewer people for her to deal. She slept during the day and spent the afternoons with her daughters. She was happier than she had ever been. Her daughters grew up, went to college, and on to careers. In the empty house Dell pulled into herself not wanting to really trust anyone. She became critical and cynical.

Dell is now sixty years old, because of her illness she took an early retirement. Social security was a disappointment. She had some savings and an IRA account, but money was tight. She worked on an earlier idea, that of writing. This time specialty books for children. ‘Making Something’, was the titles. Making something from practically nothing was a subject she knew well. A flood of ideas followed by numerous activity books designed for children to stimulate imagination. The specialty books were a hard sell to publishers, many samples were sent out, and most were rejected. The thought was they would not compete with television and computers. Still Dell pressed the idea and continued to make her little books. She was waiting for a phone call on this hot, humid day.

Dell sought relief on the patio of her home and a rest from her work. She took a cup of coffee for stimulation, lounged in her chair, and watched the clouds, those glorious clouds not a care in their skyward journey. Drifting along peacefully mesmerized by their shapes and movements, they were like looking at white Rorschach ink blots. Dell sipped her coffee and noticed in a half dream-like state, the shapes forming in the clouds like trees, butterflies, music notes, words, ocean waves, people, insects, fences, walls. Dell closed her eyes.

The clouds began to move diagonally, from southeast to northwest at a lower level. Higher in the sky a darker air flow, was moving from northeast to southwest. Then in a bling of a second the clouds merged and hung in the sky like rippled tents from a fluffy base. Off to the left a face emerged through an opening, a common oval shape, with slightly arched eyebrows. Her hair wound in a roll covering the top her head. She looked down at Dell smiled and began to blow gently. A swirl of black clouds descended downward in cascading slanted spirals encircling Dell and poof they turned into tiny golden stars and disappeared. Dell awaken with a jolt, what a dream she thought. The sky was cloudless.

She took her coffee cup and entered the house. The phone rang. It was Ethan Markwell, her publisher. Excitedly he explained, they had test marketed some of her books, they sold out in a matter of hours. The company wanted to go into full production. A check, advancement for her work is in the mail.

Wow. Was all that Dell could say, thinking of getting paid for something that was fun and a labor of love. Mr. Markwell wanted more books, a contract, and . . . .

This is all happening to fast, I need to think. May I call you back? She said.

Elation filled Dell’s usually tired and uncooperative body. She went out to collect the mail. There were two letters, one from her publisher and one from an annuity fund (more about this one later.) She set one aside and opened the letter from her publisher. It was a check, more money than she dared to imagine and more followed. She pondered what to do? Some to save and some to spend, she wanted to change her name from Stefhan to Greenaway it would be an effort to re-make her identity. She did not want her Father’s name and certainly not her ex-husband’s. Maybe a vacation to England she loved that idea. Perhaps move to California, she lived in Kansas City, the weather was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Plans, plans, plan and now she could full fill some of her wildest dreams.

In addition to feeling tired, weak and exhausted. Dell had sinus problems, did not tolerate the sun, frequent bouts of insomnia, skin eruptions, a noise in her ears and infections. Difficult to diagnosis, she struggled for years with the symptoms. What others do not understand, they tend to give unpleasant names and label the ones trying to describe them.

A call to Mr. Markwell, Dell wanted her books published under the name of Amber Allison, to protect her privacy she explained. She asked about projected income and thanked him for the opportunity.

—*—

About this time in Los Angeles, Dr. Madrid had finished his work day. He was a tall, big man with a protruding abdomen. His specialty was invitro fertilization of which he was an expert. He referred deliveries and surgeries to his colleagues. He was internationally known for his advancements. Recently he had proposed new theories and views that were deemed controversial, even questionable and radical. Most of his loyal and grateful friends abandoned and shunned him. He was bitter, full of resolve and thought he was being treated unfairly. After all to him only his opinions mattered.

His life long friend and companion was Dr. Pryal, a pediatrician. His office adjoined. Dr. Pryal was a tall, thin hyperactive man, in constant movement. He would bite his nails when contemplating a problem. He was interested in native plants and odd sources of medicines, he used them in his research. He was an excellent researcher. He developed a capsule like substance that enveloped the embryo and aided in implantation. This ‘substance’ was not approved for use. In animal trials, it had been amazingly successful, and eliminated the need for injections in most cases. However that needed approval was slow in coming. They often worked late in the lab.

Donna Saterstein, the office nurse, was preparing to leave for the day. She had become suspicious of their activities. Wished she had a listening device or a hidden camera to spy and eavesdrop. For now, she popped her head into the lab and said.

Goodnight, see you tomorrow, and was on her way.

Madrid removed two petri dishes from a lab refrigerator and placed them hastily and unbalanced on the counter top, next to a microscope. Before he could begin to work, he was interrupted by the thundering sound of a jackhammer sending chunks of concrete flying into windows and cars, across the street and a few floors down. Followed by a helicopter up the street, its blades beating nosily as newspapers and aluminum cans flew into the propellers. In the hall a janitor was buffing the floor. The pad buckled under the machine, causing it to bounce crashing into the walls. The room was vibrating. Then a loud, shattering, shaking explosion somewhere behind them.

These sounds were quad-angulated around the lab. The sound and vibrations crossed at the petri dishes.

This is not supposed to happen, the lab is sealed and sound reduced. gruffed Madrid, as he stormed out the door to confront the janitor, the nearest problem.

During the commotion the unbalanced petri dishes were banging against each other, until the top dish fell beside the lower one. One dish was labeled

‘Bonners’ with the medical symbol for male and the other labeled ‘Bonners’ with a medical symbol for female.

As Madrid left, Pryal entered from the rear. In his nervous manner he placed a cap, mask, and gown and then he put one of the petri dishes under the microscope for a quick observation. He peered through the microscope.

What happen here? He said.

What are you talking about? Madrid said, re-entering the room.

He looked into the microscope. The embryos had divided many times and were moving in a circle. The second dish in a smaller circle.

Ordinarily, a lab tech prepared the specimens. Pryal did not trust them; he wanted to use his method and the two sat contemplating their next move. A loud, heated argument followed. Once a decision was made, two embryos were placed in a single capsule for implantation. They continued their active discussion and working on a computer.

—*—

Dell’s activity books were selling, as fast as they could be printed and far better than she could have anticipated. She changed her name in Texas, vacationed in England, and with her daughter, Julie planned to move.

Mr. Markwell, called regularly to discuss the books. Many books had been sent to him. He received more ideas from faithful followers. They planned future books of interesting subjects. He even suggested a staff at the publishing house to develop ideas; Dell held the copyright and would receive royalties. Dell mentioned moving.

Why move? He asked.

I have another daughter in California and the weather is more consistent. She replied.

It just so happened, he had some contacts.

Julie agreed to care for Isis, Dell’s cat and probably stay in the house, the house often got away from Dell, Julie wanted to do some needed work. Julie was industrious and concerned about her mother.

Then there was Isis, a yellow calico, with attitude, independent, and one big claw on her right paw. Isis did not like to be picked-up she would flash her claw as a warning at anything that displeased her. She nuzzled against someone, when she wanted to be fed or petted. Julie found her when she was a kitten and brought her home and there she had been ever since. Dell kept her in the house, she was a skillful and wanton hunter outside.

In California, Dell had interviews with two investment firms. Next she met with a rather outlandish real estate agent, Mrs. Linda McLaren. She ran an agency with her son. She wore a bright pink suit with a matching hat. The hat looked like an 18th-century swashbucklers. A wide brim with a bushy feather, it extended around one side and off the back. Dell requested to see properties by the water.

I have a couple by the agency, dearie. It won’t take long. Mrs. McLaren said.

No, I want to be by the water. Dell replied, her words unheard.

Isn’t this a sweet little fixer-upper and just look at that view of the bay? The real estate agent said.

No, it’s ready to collapse. Dell answered.

They drove down the street. This house too, was in bad shape. Dell would not be talked into something she did not want that had happen to much of her life.

Don’t be so quick to judge. A little paint, a little this and that and it would be perfect for you. She persisted.

A little dynamite, you are wasting my time. Dell said getting out of the car.

Non-sense. She continued her spiel, talking non-stop not giving Dell a chance to speak.

Irritated Dell turned and walked back to her car, only a block away. She drove past Mrs. McLaren, still talking and gesturing. Dell thought she saw the house shake. Worse, how many times she had sold that property.

After a fast food stop, Dell found a quiet street next to the bay, moderate homes. As she started to eat she noticed two of them for sale by The McLaren Reality!

Last appointment of the day, Dell felt drained. She mentioned Mrs. McLaren and the houses for sale. Mr. Trabourne knew the situation and apologized for his aunt. Asked if she had met the twin sister, Glinda, She was an interior decorator and did only Victorian styles. Daniel Trabourne was about Dell’s age well built, attractive and pleasant, a refreshing change and he knew how to meet future older clients. His company catered to elderly people with assets. A lawyer by training, the company suited him, relative safe investments, stocks, bonds, and mutual funds. He also provided personal management, which met paying monthly bills, recommended allowances, personal shoppers, and arranging care as needed. He had a full staff.

When do you plan to move? He asked.

Not until we find a place to live. A reasonable place and eventually a place for my daughter and she will need a job. I have only looked in this area. L.A. is so large. We have many choices. Dell replied.

The real estate market can be tough, around here. I know a home that will be on the market, soon. We can go over there, now. He said, hesitantly, he added.

The lady is 103-years old and going into the nursing home. No point in calling, she’s hard of hearing and won’t wear a hearing aide. He continued.

The home was fifteen minutes from Trabourne’s office. It had a French feel; it could have been in France. The lower part of the house was large gray stones, finishing in gray stucco to the top, the trim painted black and a slate roof. Two cylindrical fireplaces projected through the roof.

Oh, I think this is more house than I need and out of my league. What an eclectic neighborhood a prairie style next door, then a Mediterranean-palladium, Japanese across the street, down there a craftsmen, the vacant lot next to the house, who owns that? Dell asks, obliviously she loved homes.

The vacant lot goes with the house. All these homes were built before planned communities and restrictive building codes. The vacant lot had a house that burned, never rebuilt. The oriental across the street belongs to Mrs. Royal. It was her son’s home. She thinks he is still there, he’s been gone for twenty years. Daniel said.

Do you know why the house burned? Dell asked.

The belief was those chimneys. No one knows for certain. The chimneys have been refitted, steel rebars added, and mostly occluded. Daniel said, as they walked towards the house.

Mrs. Royal was a short, frumpy woman, with obvious mental deficits, hair uncombed, dirty dress and an undeniable odor, she was happy to see them, like long lost friends.

I can’t do this . . . . do you smell smoke? Dell said.

Yes. Daniel replies and rushed to the kitchen.

Honey, will you and your gentleman stay for dinner, I’m making hash? Mrs. Royal said, smiling.

In the kitchen, Daniel turned off the stove, as a large smoke cloud filled the home. The pot was too hot to move and nothing near to keep him from being burned. Daniel was on his cell phone, just out of hearing distance. In a matter of minutes the house was full of firemen, police, and ambulance attendants.

I’m sorry about all this. She will go to a hospital on a hold, until the nursing home can take her. She was fine this morning. Daniel said.

Well yes, she may have been okay this morning. Mental status changes take a variety of forms. I was a practicing nurse. Dell said.

Mrs. Royal sat down on the gurney, the attendants were fastening the safety buckles.

We’re going for a ride. My name is Royal, Della Royal. This cart has wheels. Twin boys, twin boys, twin boys, green beans, green beans, green beans . . .

Dell looked bewildered by her strange choice of confused words.

I need to go to the hospital. I have all her papers, power of attorney and so forth. Daniel said.

I understand. I’ve tried to do too much, today. Daniel I cannot take advantage of this woman. Dell said.

I would never let that happen. He replied.

As Dell drove back to the hotel parking lot, she spotted, The McLarens. She thought these people do not give up. They do not take ‘no’ for an answer. It looked like rain in the morning, Dell had put a trench coat in her car, and she put on a scarf, sunglasses, and carried an umbrella. She walked past the McLarens, one in pink, exactly like her sister, one in bright blue, and the son, Charles, in a conservative gray suit.

I remember her name was Belle, or Nell, or whatever. Then she just disappeared. Linda McLaren could be overheard saying.

Dell went to her room and ordered room service.

The next day, she met Daniel at the house. Mrs. Royal was not doing well, it was only a matter of time. She had no living relatives. In her house, the living room was spacious with oriental rugs on top of wall-to-wall carpets, redwood paneling, a baby grand piano, and ornate harp. The furniture was old and the house smelled musty. The dining room has half the size of the living room, still large. One wall had breakfronts filled with beautiful old silver objects in tarnish proof enclosures.

Her father had been a collector. He owned the shopping plaza, down the way and other real estate. Daniel said.

So the house tour went Dell was struck by how much the floor plan was like her own home only larger. They walked thru the house from the basement, around the yard, and in the Oriental home across the street. It was all so beautiful and in need of attention.

Still Dell felt sorry for Mrs. Royal and placed an offer to purchase the properties. She was anxious to return home. Julie was excited about the prospect of moving to California.

A few days after she was home, a phone call from Daniel Trabourne was received, the houses were available. They made arrangements to move, Dell’s house sold quickly. California was to be their new home.

The houses were remolded, new furniture purchased as needed, and everything thoroughly cleaned and gleaming. The carpeting removed and lovely redwood flooring, refinished. The home had a charm and personality and Dell reveled in the feeling it was hers. She was pleased with the results of the make-over. She selected appliances and updated existing ones. General improvements were apparent; Dell liked the timelessness of the beautiful wood that graced the home as if it were meant to be there and just for this purpose. Still the furniture was sparse and new replacements would need to be found. Something to look forward to doing.

Julie house was minimalist, the way she liked things. A far more simple color palette. Julie’s life was uncluttered the opposite of her mother with her mother’s blessings.

Julie discussed employment opportunities with Daniel. She decided on an investment company purchasing apartment buildings. Daniel moved another employee, Logan Kirnan to assist her, he soon took over. From the start Dell had bad vibrations about him. He bought properties recklessly, invested little in maintaining, and upkeep. They had verbal clashes; Dell did not want to be a ‘slum land owner’. She voiced her concerns to Daniel, but he was supporting his employee and tried to console Dell with flowery, condescending words about her true abilities. Julie was very impressed with Logan and spoke glowingly of his abilities. Logan reminded Dell of her ex-husband, all talk and then takes your money. Even being near him caused a flood of memories to fill her mind. She had dealt with these memories and wanted them buried forever.

Of the projected earnings Dell was to receive, she diverted the proceeds to other companies, leaving a modest sum with Daniel to cover expenses. This made her feel more comfortable. They had a lump sum to purchase apartments on a minimal investment scheme-type of maneuver. She was sure Logan would sweat inspiration and slow some of his ambitions, his aggressions.

One building caught Dell’s attention, The Serpentine, an old, large factory crumbling from neglect, available immediately for the taxes. On her own she made an offer.

Dell retreated to her new home considered creative writing courses at the university. All too soon old problems revisited. First she sank into a deep valley of depression.

Second she started to smoke again, both of her parents had the addiction and it was a refuge for her, when she faced problems.

Dell spent most of the days and nights in bed. Ate T.V. dinners, fast food, and Deli grub. Julie hired a company to come in once a week and do housework. Dell had keypad locks put on all the doors not really trusting anyone. Julie and Daniel found a specialist, for Dell to see.

1.jpgchapter 1.jpg

Chapter-2

A New Beginning and

New Friends

(The wonderful solitude and peaceful Zen of playing solitaire for a while and then add friends. It’s a new game of life.)

Dell felt really good, reenergized as she gazed at the bay and the dense fog being melted away by the sun. It was like her depressed mood disappearing, with the help of a specialist and an antidepressant. The house became her new dedication; it was much too large for her. She passed the next days organizing her home and in the evening she wrote or rewrote two children’s books that she had thought about doing. The success of her ‘Making Something’ series gave her, a new confidence. The new books had moderate success and a long shelf life.

Dell had a functional wardrobe, she still loved clothes and fashion. She was to remain basically conservative with special touches, she usually played it safe. While in England she found a shop, more like a warehouse, they sold complete wardrobes by dress and shoe size. Enamored by the idea of an instant clothes supply, she purchased two of them with the thought she could update and remake them any time she needed a special outfit. Free standing closets were bought for the room next to her bedroom, which she called the store room. The items stored by function, color, and numbered. Shoes were placed on a bottom shelf, with a photograph and corresponding number, accessories with the same number on the top shelf and hats. Some additional hats in boxes in a separate cabinet with loose ones. A number was also placed on each garment with a permanent pen all done to keep things in place. All the clothes were removed from the plastic bags covering them, the bags tied in knots and discarded. A habit acquired from when her children were young.

A safe of the thought-to-be expensive jewelry was in separate closet. The inexpensive pieces in the front of the closet and arranged by color none of these pieces were in boxes. Flipping panels filled the interior on a track. They concealed her real safe in back. Dell seldom got rid of anything, she might need it some day or had wished for the things in the past, she had discarded. A directory of the articles on a clipboard and hung on the inside of the door.

A cabinet near the washer and dryer held