Their Mother’S Bed: The Riveting Tale of a Promiscuous Nun

By Errol Shaw

A young woman decided that she would take matters into her own hands if she could not live the life she always wanted. As a young woman, her father would always encourage her to be her best and that she would become a wonderful human being. She knew her biological parents love her, but when her mother left her and her five siblings behind, she questioned the love of her mother. Mariana knew that she was daddys little girl, but she did not know if her mother felt the same about her. She knew exactly the kind of life she wanted when she grows up, but after the death of her father, she knew it would be a struggle staying on track. She was quite determined to rise up in spite of her adversities. After the death of her father, she moved in with her auntie. She hoped that she would feel love again, but unfortunately, it was the beginning of a difficult journey. She had some of the most grueling experiences in her life that, at times, she wished she was dead and buried next to her daddy.

Mariana was determined to make a life for herself. Luck came when she met a family who fell in love with her and decided to take her in. At that point, she knew that she would be able to get an education and fulfill that long-anticipated dream. She wanted all the good things in life, but she knew that those good things come at a cost. As she began her new life with this family, she had some of the greatest experiences, and it was the first time that she actually felt loved since the death of her father and the absence of her mother. Her life at her new home was certainly a new experience, but it was too good to be true. Mariana, at a tender age, was exposed to sex by her foster father, who got her pregnant while she was still a child. From that point on, she became a lover of sex, which resulted in her many pregnancies. This riveting tale takes one deep into the life of a woman who fought for the life she wanted but faced many obstacles that forced her to go from one relationship to another.

In her quest to find a husband and create the ideal family for herself, her luck led her down a path that was truly painful for her. She had many children with men who had no interest in staying with her. Did she ever get that life that she anticipated? It was not until all the rules in the book were broken that she actually found love after giving up on the world to become a nun. Her feelings could not be easily suppressed, so she had to find a way to satisfy her craving even if she had to bring someone into her sacred space. The convent was not off-limits when it comes to a woman who would take the ultimate risk to obtain love.

This explorative journey takes the reader on a mission to a place that was dark and vacant, but change will come and will reside in the heart of a woman who was beaten down by selfish men who think only of themselves as they seek pleasure from those who are weak and are unable to resist the undeniable feeling of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543423440

Errol Shaw

About the Author Errol Shaw is the author of The Travel Experience, Nigel’s Dream, Weirdos: An Alien in the New World, among many others. He often appears on local television interviews discussing his work. He lives with his wife, Yemellett, in Brooklyn New York.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

When It All Began

The first few years of my life were quite amazing in the sense that it was a crucial time of learning, adapting, and understanding. I smell, I taste, I hear, and I experience things that make me appreciate the mere premise of my existence. Everything seemed perfect. I embraced light and dark—the stars in faraway galaxy and the moon that shone so bright and then disappeared at some point in the night and other times showed up late at night and then disappeared just before the break of day. It was a time of happiness when I saw the animals moving about the meadow, the birds singing in the treetops, the honeybee sucking nectar from a pregnant rose, the fruits hanging from their branches—it could not have been a better time to exist in this wonderful place they call our world. It was during that time that I began to embrace nature. I was particularly interested in the rainbow that created a semicircle across the valley. I was yearning for that pot of gold at the mouth of the rainbow that old-timers always talked about. I was also interested in the water that cascaded down the side of the mountain during the rainy season. The sound I hear in the distance was like an emerging storm. Seeing the force of nature was even more interesting when the rushing water gives off that gushing sound. I was in paradise in the first several years of my life. It was during that time that my senses were working on reaching their full maturity. I watched my mother getting large every couple of years, and every time she gets that way, I would either get a baby brother or a sister. Being the firstborn, I was happy to have other siblings to play with or to share this wonderful place we call our world. It felt as if every day was a miracle. At that early stage of my life, I wanted to remain that way for a very long time. Unfortunately, I saw my body changing, and my siblings were also changing with me. As those days and nights slipped away, my life began to change. I started to experience pain and sadness. I felt pain when I was spanked for doing something wrong. I felt pain when I saw my father hit my mother. I felt pain when I did something wrong and had no idea that my right was wrong in other people’s eyes. I had no idea that there was a punishment for learning and knowing wrong from right. Take for instance those days that I spent playing with the bees or the wasps were neither fun nor interesting. I had no idea that they would bring me pain. My parents should have told me from the moment that my senses started to develop. They should have informed me that it was taboo to do certain things and that I would be punished for doing the wrong things. In many cases, I had to experience pain to know what was wrong and what was right. It was at that point that I was no linger liking this place. As I got older, I became frightened particularly when pain was inflicted on me. Although I never lost my love for the beautiful things around me, the idea of interaction with other humans was no longer the same as I experienced it before.

When I was about six years old and had many experiences, I started to differentiate the things that were bad from those that were good. I became Daddy’s little girl. My mommy loves me, too, but Daddy was more eager to comfort me on days that I was sad. We were never rich, but my daddy was a good provider. That was important to me because we would always have plenty to eat. We may not have had one or two pairs of shoes like other children in our community, but that did not matter to us. I love my daddy because he always makes it his duty to see that we had plenty to eat before going to bed.

I can remember having one pair of shoes that was only worn on Sundays for church services. I did not wear my shoes to school because I did not want it to get worn out. Being a girl, I would always get picked on by other children in my school, but that did not distract me from my main focus. My mother always told me that if I do well in school, she would get me a pair of Tarzan shoes for school. I guess that was only a threat because I did not get those shoes until after my father’s death. I was no longer living at home when I finally got my second pair of shoes, which was followed by many pairs in my teen years. It was my foster parents who eventually got my feet out the mud. I was very much accustomed to not wearing shoes, and that is because I was not the only one in my school that was without shoes. Unfortunately, they found a name for me and not the other children. If they did have names for them, it was not known to me. My feet were often covered with scratches and bruises from walking through thorns and thickets, but I was proud of who I am. I know that if the children in school did not like me—no worries, my parents and my siblings love me, and that was all that mattered.

In school, it was easy to tell children whose parents were rich because they were the ones that were well liked. They had everything they need for school. They were not short of pencils, notebooks, or workbooks. They were also the ones that do better in school because they had everything that is required to get the work done for school. From very early in my life, I knew that regardless of my shortcoming, I would do all in my power to be ahead of my parents. Yes, my mother was a housekeeper, and my father, farmer. I had a much bigger ambition, and before I graduated from primary school, I knew what I wanted to be. I was willing to work hard to make that mark even if my parents could not afford to buy the books needed to do the work. As I got older, I did not concern myself with the name-calling in school. I just knew what I was there for, and my plan was to overcome my adversities.

They call me the Barefoot Gal, and I quickly adapted to the name as though that was the name given to me at birth by my parents. My folks gave me the name Mariana, but the pupils in school and those I met on my way home often call me out of my name. I was often very annoyed, but I gradually became accustomed to my new name, the Barefoot Gal. I am the first of six children and my daddy’s favorite little girl. I had no idea why I was his favorite when all the others that came after me were as cute as a button. I guess the fact that I was his firstborn, it was comforting to him to call me his favorite. As I got older, I came to the realization that my daddy loves me more than anything in the world. From the very early years of my life, I can remember my father telling me that I would grow up to be a woman of good morals and that I would be very good at whatever I pursue in life. I had no idea what he was talking about being seven years old. He would often instill those words in me as if he wanted me to know them by heart and remember them every time that I attempted to do something foolish. I wondered if something was about to happen to him—why he was trying so hard to instill those encouraging words of substance in me.

I knew from very early in my life that my parents did not get along. As a matter of fact, it was surprising to me that they lasted as long as they did. In those days, children did not intervene in adult behavior, however; I looked and I listened and I knew what was wrong and what was right, particularly things that make my mother cry. I also knew that I could get spanked for interfering in grown-ups’ business being a child. In spite of my parents’ troubling relationship, they treated us with sincere kindness and love. As I reflect on those words that my father instilled in me, I kept dreaming. I also knew that I would not be like most children in my circle. As for the ones who knew me as the Barefoot Gal, I hope they will be around to see me live out my father’s dream of becoming a woman of substance.

I knew that I would have shoes on my feet, clothes on my back, and lots of food to share with the world. Based on the words that came from my daddy’s lips, I knew that one day, my life would grow beyond every aspect of my wildest imagination. As I got older, my quest became real. I wanted more and more to make my father proud even though he is no longer with us and is up in heaven looking down. I must say that those values that my father instilled in me did not come without a cost—he knew that it would be very difficult at first before it gets good. My quest was to stand strong and fight to the bitter end to make my father proud.

After the death of my father, I knew from the onset that it was time to experience my worse, but that too shall pass and then the dream. While I was still very young, I started to dream of the big house, lots of money, the perfect husband… I guess you can say that my dream was to have the perfect life surrounded by the perfect family. Reflecting back on my parents, I started to wonder if that anticipated dream would ever come to light. Is there such thing as the perfect family? That is the question that I often asked myself when reflecting back on the past dysfunction in my family. I really wanted to have a life that was totally different from that of my parents. People who knew me well and some of the people whom I have shared my vision with would often encourage me to follow my heart and pursue my dream.

I knew I wanted to look back one day and make the claim that I have had a great life in spite of my dysfunctional family.

After the death of my father, my life has been a roller-coaster ride from as far back as I can remember, but nevertheless, I have always lived with hopes that there will be a 360-degree turn. My parents were not rich, but they tried to instill good values in their children. I must say that I live by some of those values that were instilled in me from very early in my life. Lately, I had to ask myself exactly what went wrong. Now I am left to wonder if I would ever achieve those goals that I spent days dreaming about. Not having my father around, I was forced to take the long way home. There were lots of bumps in the road, but when I fell down, I got up, brushed myself off, and continued on that journey.

I left home very early in life in search of a new place—a place where I can find peace, love, and harmony. I wanted a mother and a father who would love me just like my parents did. The first stop was at my beloved aunt, whom I thought would be the ideal person to shower me with love knowing the faith of my past. That was only wishful thinking. The very first week of my arrival at her home, I had come to realize her true color. It was during that first month at my aunt’s house that my life took a turn for the worse.

One day after a brutal flogging from her, I was lying in bed crying and feeling sorry for myself. It was that day that it dawned on me that the separation of my family created a serious dysfunction in my life. Why couldn’t my life turn out better? Why did my parents have to separate? Why did I have to go and stay with my auntie, who turned out to be the worst person in the world? Those were the questions I struggled with on a daily basis. I guess I will never find the answers to any of my many questions.

I often looked down on my bare feet kissing the ground as I walked from one meadow to another, minding the animals and attending to the farm. Those days really helped me to reverberate back to the Barefoot Gal that stood so vividly in my mind. I have read a lot about slavery, and I realize that even though slavery was long abolished, my life was no different from those past generations. I also know that I am a child of God and that people can hurt me only for a short time, and that too shall pass. I am a child of God and whom God blesses. No man has that power to knock me down, and if they do knock me down, I will get up, brush off, and keep moving. Well, that’s what I thought anyway.

Those early years, I see my life declining every day. I spent many days wondering what I have done to deserve such misfortune. I was never able to answer that question. When I see other young women like myself living their lives as they get their education and moving up in life, I became angry with my parents. I thought if they had stayed together, my life would have been much better. The answer I created for myself is that the lives of my siblings and me would have taken on a totally different shape if it had not been for my father’s death and the separation from my mother. If my parents had stayed together, I do believe that our lives would have been amazing. I started to blame my mother for my father’s death. I could not come to terms with the idea of being sympathetic with her in spite of the time she spent enduring so many years of abuse. The only thought that came to my mind is that if those two people would have put aside their differences and focused on raising their children, each one of us would have had a much better life and a life that we deserve. I guess some people would view that as selfish, but a writer said, Who feels it knows it, and no person on the face of this earth would run away from a good life unless that person is a fool. It was my parents’ responsibility to nurture us and raise us until we were old enough to go out in the world to experience the facts of life on our own. For the little time that I knew them, they spent it fighting. That whole experience led to malice, separation, and death.

I spent many years blaming them for my inability to achieve my dreams long before I was old enough to pursue a dream. I also blame them for not taking responsibility of their own action. It was quite difficult to strive without my parents; however, we were too young to prevent any of these disturbances that caused our family structure to fall apart.

Being very young when my parents separated, I had no idea what was awaiting me out there in the world. That rainy October day when my mother left home, she did not say where she was going or when she would return. The day she walked out the door with a small bundle of clothes, I started crying because something inside me told me that she was never coming back home. The fact that she chose not to take us along with her helped me to come to the realization that her love for us was no longer there. I also realized that it was not only our father’s problem but also the problem of all who were living in that household. Being the oldest child, I knew exactly what was going on with them, but I had no idea that their relationship would fall apart so drastically. After my mother left home, my father did all in his power to make sure food was on the table, and I respect him for his courage. He was able to keep us grounded even without our mother until his accidental death at the end of the following year. That was the year that my life took a downward spiral. During that time, my siblings and I were forced to split up. Some of us were sent to stay with friends of the family, while others were with blood relatives. For many years, I had no idea that the day my family got separated would be the last time I would see my siblings. I also did not know whether they would be taken care of. Being the oldest of six children, I felt as if it was my responsibility to see to it that my younger siblings have food to eat, and that was only for a short time while we were still living together. After leaving home, every time that I sat down to eat, my mind would always reflect back on them, wondering whether they have something to eat. That is not to say that I had a life made for a queen—there were times that I spent during those years with nothing to eat or drink. I often tell myself that when my parents were together, they did all in their power to make sure we did not go to bed without a full stomach.

I must say that things changed drastically after the death of my father and with my mother not being around to care for us. During those years, our lives faced many challenges. For one, we were no longer allowed to attend school; however, I lived and hoped that things would change whereby I would be able to finish my education, get a good job, and create a life for myself that would make my family proud.

From the very first week of my arrival at my aunt’s house, I knew that life would be impossible living with her. The moment I arrived at her house, she made it clear to me that she did not see the need for school. It was that moment that I came to the realization that her philosophy was quite different from mine.

You are wrong, Auntie. The only way to have a better life than you is to get an education, I said.

Is that right? Well, I don’t need for you to come here and backchatting me. You don’t have anybody but me right now. Your papa is dead, and your mother is out there somewhere. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you, so you better carry your weight around here if you want to eat, Aunt Elizabeth said.

I am only a child. I can’t work. I have to go to school to get an education, I said.

Well, my dear child, I think you are at the wrong place. You are nobody, you will never become anybody, so don’t waste time trying to be someone you cannot, Auntie said. It took me a very long time to wrap my finger around the idea that she was trying to nail in my head. I must say that my aunt used that line quite often that after hearing it so many times, I started to believe that she was telling the truth.

I did start attending school but only two or three days out of the week. I became very disgusted when she told me that I could not go to school on Thursdays and Fridays. One day, as I was getting ready for school, she came into my room.

Mariana, I told you that I have things for you to do today. I cannot afford for you to go out and spend eight hours when you could be over Goat Ridge weeding out the corn and potatoes, she said. I looked at her from across the room but said nothing. I really wanted to attend school that day, and I know that if I had to fight for something, it has to be basic education. I did not care what happened to me at my auntie’s house. My mission was to be a good reader and a good writer, and no one was going to deprive me of that privilege. There were many thoughts bubbling in my mind. If I did not get the opportunity to be a nurse or a schoolteacher, the least I would want for myself is the opportunity to read and write well. My parents were very good at reading and writing, and I wanted to be just like them, if not better.

Aunt Elizabeth had taken a totally different path. She wanted to be a farmer and a housewife, and that was her dream. I did not want to go that route—that was not the goal that my parents had planned out for me.

That Monday morning, during the early part of 1953, I was determined to go to school even if it means getting a good ass-whipping. My aunt Elizabeth did all in her power to stop me from attending school that Monday morning. The last thing she did was throw a bucket of water on me. Although I was soaking wet and had no money for lunch, I was determined. I picked up a piece of broken lead pencil and an old composition book that only had a couple of unused pages left, and I ran out the door. With tears in my eyes and water dripping from my dress, I was set out to have a life-changing experience. That morning, I arrived at school one and a half hour late; however, I was allowed to enter the class. The moment I got in the classroom and sat down, the teacher knew that something was wrong, but she went on with her class discussion.

That Monday morning was the most difficult day for me in all my experiences at that school. I could not focus on the lesson. When my teacher asked questions, my mind would reverberate back to the experience I was having at home. I wondered what would happen when I return home that day. Would I be denied a meal? Would I be locked out of the house? Would I be beaten for no reason? Those were some of the thoughts that played in my mind as I tried to focus on the lesson that was being taught. It was one of the most difficult days of my life, not having any lunch on that particular day; I did not want to be denied a meal at dinnertime. Fortunately, I was able to make it through the school day, but I was consumed with worry about how that day would end.

As I made the long journey home, I was thinking of how happy I was when my parents were together and we were all still at home. That moment brought a bit of joy to my soul, but that feeling was short lived. As I got closer to my aunt’s house, a deep sadness came over me. I had no idea where my life was heading from that day on. I knew that the days that I have to attend school would be short lived, and that would ultimately put an end to what could evitably be a bright future for me.

As I traveled that long way home, I wondered about my siblings. Are they having the same experiences I am having? Are they all in school? Are they living with a family who are able to provide three meals a day? Is any of them going to bed without a meal because the person he or she is living with cannot afford to provide? These questions played on my mind for the duration of my journey home. As those thoughts subsided, my own experiences started to resonate. The more I considered my experiences, the more tears came trickling down my cheeks. That day I cried because I know what was awaiting me at home. I had nowhere else to go, so I slowly made my way home, and the closer I got, the more frightened I became.

Looking back today, I realize how devastating it could be that being pardoned does not exist in my aunt’s household. I did not know if other children have the same experience. I know that my aunt did not like me, so that did not make life better for me. I remember the simplest of mistakes were often called for severe punishment. At one point while living with my aunt, I thought death would have been more comforting rather than to endure this life of agony day in and day out.

After two hours of walking, I finally arrived home. Things were quiet for the moment with the exception of the chickens and other domestic animals that were up and about. As I approached the front yard, the dogs started barking as they ran toward me with wagging tails. I could tell they were excited to see me. My heart tells me that I would not get the same reaction from my aunt. I wish my auntie could be like those dogs for a day or two—that would give me a sense of why I am on earth or why my life is worth living. As I moved closer toward the veranda, I ruffled my hands over the dogs to let them know that I appreciated seeing them too.

The house was as silent as a graveyard, but that did not prevent me from making my way inside. I had no idea what awaited me behind those walls, but I was ready and willing to get it over with. At that point, my only hope was for whatever it was that awaited me would be brief. I did not have a room of my own at my aunt’s house, and the space I had was not complete. Yes, there was a roof over my head, but there were no windows to keep the breeze and the bugs out. I was staying in an incomplete portion of the house. I had no idea how long Auntie spent building that second room, however; she felt that was the best place for me. I wondered where she would want me to sleep when that room is completed. Would she have me sleeping beneath the cellar with the pigs, goats, and dogs? Ultimately, I did not have to wait that long to learn my fate. That night, I was not allowed to sleep inside that half-finished portion of the house. I must admit that it was quite comforting sleeping beneath the cellar with the animals. These animals were not capable of hurting me. They were, in fact, my only friends. They seemed glad to see me when I returned to the house that day. I wish Auntie Elizabeth could learn some of those qualities.

That night, there was no dinner left for me. I knew that Auntie was so annoyed that she could not speak. I took one look at her face, and the fact that she did not speak was all the reason for me to confirm that she had no love in her heart for me. I knew that I had to stay far from her, so I kept my distance for the remainder of the evening. Would she eventually get over this ordeal that had her face so twisted? Only time would give an account for what action would be taken. I was a nervous wreck. I had no idea whether she would come and pull me out from beneath the cellar in the middle of the night. My mind started to wander. I cannot live without eating; I cannot live without an education, so I must find a way to get on Aunt’s good side. As I made my bed among the animals, my mind continued to play tricks on me. The time I spent among the animals had profoundly impacted my mind, and that is why I found comfort among the animals. Would she know exactly where to find me and come and pull me out and flog me silly? I had no idea of my faith. I was quite vigilant for the entire night. I often wondered what will happen in the middle of the night. At times, my mind played tricks on me. At one point, I was in my deep sleep when I was awakened from a dream by a disgruntled goat that may have had some discomfort. That night, I dreamed that my aunt was pulling me out from the cellar. I was so frightened by that experience that I remained awake for the rest of the night. I was quite relieved to come to the grueling conclusion that it was only a dream. I made it through the night without her coming out to see if I was there beneath the cellar.

That morning, I was the first to rise before the pigs, goats, and chicken. It was still dark, but I wanted to be up early to get some things done so I could gain Auntie Elizabeth’s forgiveness. I went down to the river for several pails of water, and when it was light enough, I swept the yard and put some firewood in the fireplace so my aunt would have a change of heart when she gets up. I had no idea if I would be forgiven, especially since I had no plan on giving up going to school. If my aunt only knew how bad I wanted to have an education, she would give up the fight and allow me to follow my dreams. I must say that I knew from the onset that she was not an educated woman; she did not want me to follow my dreams of becoming an educated human being.

I had to make up my mind whether to run away or to continue to live in her house.

It was a little after 7:00 a.m. when she got up and came outside with a chamber pot filled to the brim with piss. As she walked across the yard, I can see the piss running over as if it should have been emptied before she emptied her bladder again a final time. I put myself in a position for her to see me, but she did not pay me any attention. I wanted to hear her verdict after seeing all the work that I had done that morning. My aunt was a cold, heartless woman who did not care about anyone but herself. She did not bother to pay any attention to all that work that I had done so early in the morning. Neither did she speak to me or even look at me. In her midst, I was quite invisible. She did not realize that there was another human being on the premises, and that was her way to pretend that I don’t exist.

That morning, I wanted to go to school, but I was quite hungry, and the fact that she despises me, I knew that breakfast was out of the question.

I started to think about going to school that Tuesday and the second school day back after being absent for a while. Her behavior was quite bad since I moved in with her, but I was not ready to let that deter me from my dreams. At that point, many thoughts were going through my mind. Most importantly, I wanted to get some clean clothes and a meal before going off to school. I know I was ready for school that day, since I had already bathed at the river.

That morning, Aunt Elizabeth went in the kitchen, made up the fire, fried some dumplings, and packed away some food, and in less than an hour, she mounted the mule, and off she went to begin her day. She did not say a word. Neither did she put some of the dumplings aside for me. When she left that morning, I went into the house, got some flour, made some fried dumplings, changed my clothes, and hurried out of the house. I was afraid she would forget something and return to the house, but, fortunately, she did not return. I decided to eat a couple of the dumplings, and the rest I packed in a brown paper bag and took along with me.

At 8:00 a.m., I was well on my way to school. I knew I would be late that morning, but when I thought of the life I was experiencing, it was a blessing that I was allowed to stay close to this house. That day, I arrived at school a little over two hours late. I may have missed a lot that morning, but the important thing is that I was there, and I was willing to get as much out of that day as I possibly could.

That was not the life I had hoped for, but I was willing to fight to the bitter end. I lost the battle only weeks later. My aunt Elizabeth decided that since she could not get a hold of me to give me a good ass-whopping, then she had to figure out another way to cramp my style. I realized that she really wanted to hurt my feelings, so she decided that the only thing that she could do to keep me out of school was to burn my clothes, and if that was not enough, when I asked her what she was doing, she picked up a rock and threw it at me with all the strength in her body. That rock got me in the head. The rock left a large wound at the side of my head with blood gushing out of the open wound. I never really thought someone could be so angry that she would hurt another person who had done no wrong.

After that experience, I decided that staying with my aunt was not the right thing to do. That week, I ran away from home with hopes of finding a loving family who would treat me well. Aunt Elizabeth did not inquire about me; neither did she come out looking for me once I was gone. She continued to live her life as if I did not exist.

I lived in the woods for weeks before being rescued by a Good Samaritan who noticed my distress and decided to take me home for a hot meal. During those weeks, I did not attend school, since I did not have clothes to change. The day I was picked up was one of the best days of my life. The only thing that frightened me was the idea of being taken back to my aunt’s house. The person who found me and took me in was a lovely, kind woman who knows how to give her heart and to share with the needy.

The day I met Mrs. Mary-Agnes, I had no idea who she was; neither did I know if my life would change living with her. I was at the river, bathing, when I heard someone calling out to me.

Where are your parents, little girl? she asked as she came up to edge of the water. I looked up at her and noticed a tall, dark-skinned woman with raw cheekbones. Her skin was smooth, and her eyes were bright and penetrating. I was sitting in the water and washing my body.

I am not from this town, ma’am. My father is dead, and my mother ran away from home.

Oh my goodness, I cannot believe what had happened to you, my poor child. So whom do you live with around here? she asked.

I am not living with anyone at the moment. I ran away from my aunt’s house weeks ago.

But if your father died and your mother ran away, who were you staying with when you ran away? she asked.

After the death of my father, I came down to live with my aunt. She did not like me and did not want me to have an education. She often beats me when I go to school without her permission, so after attending school for a few days without her permission, she decided that I could no longer live with her, so she burned my clothes and put me out, I said.

Your auntie is a wicked woman. How can anyone be so cruel to a child? Does she not have children of her own? Mrs. Mary-Agnes asked. What else did she do to you? she asked.

She hit me in my head with a rock and busted my head when I told her that I was going to school whether she wanted me to do so, I said.

Never mind, my dear child. You are in this world for a purpose, and no man can take that away from you, Mrs. Mary-Agnes said as she held my hand and helped me out of the water hole.

Ma’am, all I wanted is to get an education so I can have a better life for myself when I grow up, I said as tears filled my eyes.

That is nice. So many young people like yourself today don’t have that kind of big ambition. Your aunt should be very proud of you. I don’t know her, but I think she is a very foolish woman.

My auntie did not see the need for education, so she became hostile when I attended school without her permission.

OK, my dear child, never mind. I live on the other side of town with my husband, and we have plenty of room, so it would not be a problem for you to stay with us, she said.

Are you sure, ma’am? Would you really do that for me? I asked.

Yes, I will. I think you are a very sweet girl. I just met you, but I can tell that you are a darling. Are you hungry? Mrs. Mary-Agnes asked.

Yes, ma’am, I would like something to eat. I have not eaten in a week.

How do you survive out here, my dear child?

I eat guava, rose apple, raw crayfish, and other things I found in the woods.

Do you know that your appetite reflects that of an old homeless man or an animal? Mrs. Mary-Agnes said as she rested her left hand on my shoulder.

I was hungry, ma’am, so I had to find something to eat. The moment I got out of the water, I got dressed and went along with Mrs. Mary-Agnes to the other side of town.

When we arrived at the house, it was the first time that I felt a burst of tears bubbling down my cheek. The house was a large-enough house to accommodate all my siblings with plenty more room to spare. I had no idea how things would work out over time, but my mind was made up to be in the hands of someone who was capable of caring for me and, most importantly, someone who would not prevent me from getting an education.

Mrs. Mary-Agnes did not have children of her own; however, she shared the big house with her husband, Uncle Joe. The moment I walked in the house, Mrs. Mary-Agnes’s husband emerged from the back of the house. His face lit up as if I was someone he knew from a very long time.

Where did you find this sweet little pudding? Uncle Joe asked. My name is Joe, but you can call me Uncle Joe. We are delighted to have you, he said with outstretched arms. The way they welcomed me into their home, I knew things would turn out wonderful.

Where have you been all my life? I asked as I stood there, overwhelmed with joy. As I studied the two people carefully, the only thought that came to mind was for my siblings to find a home that was safe and surrounded with kind, loving people.

That afternoon, Mrs. Mary-Agnes fixed dinner. She did not ask for my help. I sat with her in the kitchen, which was at the extreme back of the house. That day, we talked about everything starting with my parents. Mrs. Mary-Agnes showed so much sympathy for me that I knew from that moment on that she would be good to me. It was only the first day, and I could see the change. It was easy to see the differences between living with Mrs. Mary-Agnes and living at my aunt’s house. I did not have to fetch water from the river, which turned out to be a blessing when I discovered that Mrs. Mary-Agnes had a standpipe at the side of the house.

I did not have to search for firewood, since they used coal and kerosene stove. I did not have to participate in cooking, since that art was one of Mrs. Mary-Agnes’s favorite pastimes. I realized that if they allow me, it would be the ideal time to return to school and get the education I always wanted. I also did not know how long it would take for me to get back into school, but I was determined to make Mrs. Mary-Agnes proud.

That first night, Mrs. Mary-Agnes prepared a beautiful dinner that consisted of white flour dumpling, boiled bananas, and yam, relished with coconut custard cooked up with onion and tomatoes. It was the best meal that I have had in several weeks. That evening, Mrs. Mary-Agnes did all in her power to make sure I had enough to eat. After dinner, I told her that I would like to help out. I wanted to wash the dishes as a token of her kindness.

Sure, my dear child. It is nice that you wanted to help. Already I can see that I’ve made a very good choice to bring you into my home, Mrs. Mary-Agnes said.

Thanks, ma’am. I wish I met you sooner. I also wish my real mother was as nice as you are, I said.

Never mind, my dear child. The Lord that I serve will see to it that from this day on, you will get the life you so long deserve. Hearing those words from Mrs. Mary-Agnes’s mouth gave me a sense of relief as I started to reflect back on those words that my father had instilled in me years before. My heart was no longer aching. I was content with the life I was about to receive from this Good Samaritan.

After dinner that night, we went and sat in a large drawing room, which appeared to be the largest room in the house. Mrs. Mary-Agnes’s husband, Uncle Joe, joined us minutes later, and that was where we spent the rest of the evening. She asked about every aspect of my family life starting with my mother and father. They asked me about my siblings and how they were doing. At one point, I thought she would ask me to go and get the rest of my siblings after sharing my troubling story. I knew it would be a bit much to ask, so I did not push my luck, although I missed them greatly and did not know when I would see them again or if I would ever see them again. I also knew that luck had taken me under its wings and I was in no shape or form going to let that slip out of my hands.

I don’t think I know your family, but I may have seen them at some point in the past if they are from this district. I am truly sorry how things turned out with you losing your father and your mother leaving home. It must be devastating to leave you all behind with no loving family to care for you all, Mrs. Mary-Agnes stated.

That is a wicked act, and she will be punished for her action one day, Uncle Joe interjected. Mrs. Mary-Agnes was so sympathetic that I started to cry. She pulled herself closer to me and hugged me as tight as she could to let me know that she was there for me.

You never mind, my dear. As long as you are with me, I will do all in my power to protect you and to see to it that you have the proper place to lay your head, have plenty of food to eat, and, most importantly, and obtain the life you deserve. Those words coming from Mrs. Mary-Agnes were like riches. They were words to cherish. They sent chills running down my spine. I also knew from that point on that my life will be OK. As the hours slipped away, I knew it was time to focus on becoming the woman I dreamed of becoming. It was also the time to live out my father’s dream so he can look down from heaven with great joy and say, I told you so.

After hours of chatting and getting to know my new mother and father, Mrs. Mary-Agnes decided to give me a tour of the house. She showed me where I would sleep, and it was a nice big room and an upgrade from my room at my father’s house where I once lived with all my siblings. It was definitely a masterpiece comparing to the half-finished room at my aunt’s house. She then showed me her room, the sewing room, followed by her storage room, where she kept finished jobs for her customers. My room was not as large as hers, but it was much larger than the room I had at my father’s house. It has a bed and an old dressing table with a thin white net thrown over the mirror. There were also three trunks placed on top of each other in a corner of the room. There was also a kerosene lamp sitting on top of the three trunks. The room had one window with a white curtain. I walked up to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and gazed out in the dimly lit yard surrounded with banana trees. I stood at the window for a minute and watched the fireflies parading around in the semidark evening. I was overwhelmed with joy and happiness that I no longer needed to be out in the wilderness among the fireflies.

That night, Mrs. Mary-Agnes gave me a washbasin and a wash towel, which were luxuries that I did not have at home or at my aunt’s house. She also gave me a bar of soap and a bedsheet. I knew from that day on that I was special. I also knew from that point on that my life was about to change. Moments later, Mrs. Mary-Agnes went to her sewing room, while I remained in my new room. She later came back with sleeping clothes. She left and went to her room after bidding me good night, and that was the last time I saw her for that night. I went and prepared myself for bed, which included my prayer thanking God for making my dream come true. That night, I slept for the entire night and did not rise until 7:00 a.m.

That morning, Mrs. Mary-Agnes got up early to prepare breakfast so her husband can have a meal before leaving for work. She did not ask me to get out of bed to come out and help her, and that is how I know that she could not be compared to my wicked aunt who lived on the other side of Golden Spring. That morning, I got up on my own and tidied myself before she called me to the breakfast table.

I could hardly believe that this was happening to me. Mrs. Mary-Agnes was a true guardian angel that came to me at the nick of time. As I sat down to a bowl of cornmeal porridge and johnnycakes, I realized that Uncle Joe was not coming to the breakfast table.

Where is Uncle Joe, Mrs. Mary-Agnes? I asked.

Your uncle Joe went off to work for the government in town and have many miles to travel, she said.

Oh, I see. So what time will he return home? I asked.

He will be home at 5:00 p.m., in time for dinner, Mrs. Mary-Agnes said.

Is there anything you would like for me to help you with today, ma’am? I asked.

Well, I will be working on completing a dress for my neighbor today—as a matter of fact, I need to finish it by this afternoon. You can sit and keep me company, and we can talk some more about your plans, she said.

OK, ma’am, that sounds really good to me. After breakfast, we did the dishes and chatted a little more before heading off to the sewing room.

Once we were in the sewing room, Mrs. Mary-Agnes prepared the material that she would be working with as I sat across from her and looked on. Dressmaking may not be on the agenda of things that I wanted to do in my life, but learning how to do it would be a plus. The idea of making my own dress would certainly benefit in the long run.

After cutting the material, she started to sew the dress on the machine. It was my first time seeing a sewing machine, which forced me to pay even closer attention to what Mrs. Mary-Agnes was doing. As she put it all together, we chatted some more. In less than three hours, the dress was completed only to be ironed before delivering to the neighbor. At 3:00 p.m., Mrs. Mary-Agnes decided that it was time to prepare dinner. We left the sewing room and went down to the kitchen, where she prepared red peas soup with pig’s tail. I sat with her in the kitchen while she prepared dinner. She did not care for my help. I must say that I was so accustomed to working that, at times, I felt out of place when I did not have a duty.

While I was there, I insisted on helping her, but she assured me that she had it covered. I continued to ask of her for things to do. Then, finally, she decided to give me the simplest task. OK, since you insist on working, can you grate the coconut for me and squeeze the milk out so I can use it in the soup? she said.

Oh, yes, ma’am, I can certainly do that for you.

At 5:00 p.m., the dinner was finished cooking. We waited for Uncle Joe to return home from work so we could all eat together. That afternoon, Mrs. Mary-Agnes and I went back to the sewing room, where she put some coal in the iron, lit it, and set it aside to get heated. When it was hot enough, she ironed a shirt and pants for Uncle Joe so he would have a fresh set of clothing for work the next day.

After much anticipation, Uncle Joe arrived home. He was as happy to see us as we were to see him.

How did my two lovely ladies spend the day? he asked.

The day was great—as a matter of fact, it was better than usual now that my new daughter is here with me, Mrs. Mary-Agnes said. Uncle Joe looked over at me to get my approval, but all I did was smile.

I can tell that you are one quiet little girl, and we are all going to do just fine, he said with a chuckle.

Are you ready to have dinner, honey? Mrs. Mary-Agnes asked.

Sure—why not? I did not have a big lunch today, so I am feeling a little hungry, he said.

OK honey, I will go ahead and set the table. We were all waiting for you, she said.

Why did you do that? This poor child must be hungry, he said.

I am OK, Uncle Joe. We had plenty to eat today, and, besides, we did not want to eat without you, I said. Mrs. Mary-Agnes set the table and brought the food inside. She did not want me to help her, so I went and sat at the table with Uncle Joe.

Dinner was quite delicious that night. I ate and ate until my belly could no longer hold any more. After dinner, we sat at the table and chatted for a while as they continued the quest on getting more information on my family. At one point, I thought they wanted to take me back to my aunt, since I did not know exactly where to find my mother, but that was not the case. To be with that family was perfect for me—I did not want to go anywhere else. I was at home with Mrs. Mary-Agnes and Uncle Joe. It was the perfect family setting and one that I craved for years. I only wish my birth mother could see now, and as for my aunt, I know she would die with envy if she got a quick glimpse into my life today. I only hope that my siblings are as lucky as I am in finding a home that was safe and have plenty for them to eat.

Since I moved in with Mrs. Mary-Agnes, each time that I sat down to eat, I would think about my siblings. I often wondered if they were eating the same kind of food I was eating or if they were eating at all. I also wondered if they were getting whipped all the time or if they were attending school regularly. All these thoughts seemed to play on my mind every day. I also reflected back to my auntie who lived on the other side of Golden Spring. I wondered how she is making out with that big mule of hers. Is she beating the mule now that I am no longer around for her to beat and put out of the house? My mind was flustered with wild thoughts. All I wanted was for everyone to be doing OK as I am.

I did not know exactly where my siblings were and with whom they were staying; therefore, I could not pay them a visit. I did not talk to my new guardian much about my siblings, but they were on my mind all the time particularly when I was eating.

That night after dinner, I went along with Mrs. Mary-Agnes to the neighbor’s house to drop off the finished dress. The feelings I had walking through the woods with Mrs. Mary-Agnes were amazing. I felt as if I had finally had my mother again. As we walked through the woods, we talked about a lot of things just like girls do. I must say I felt a burst of joy just being in her company. I also felt protected, and that was a feeling that I have not had since the separation of my parents and the death of my father.

After much walking through the woods, we finally reached the neighbor’s house. There were many dogs in the yard, and they had to be put away before we could enter. Once we got inside, I felt this sense of paranoia. I hope that they would be able to keep the dogs at bay so they would not attack us. We finally got inside the house, and all went well. Mrs. Mary-Agnes introduced me to the neighbor as her daughter. Mariana, meet Mrs. Margaret Hanson, the lady I made the dress for, she said.

How do you do, my dear child? she asked with outstretched hands as if she wanted to embrace me.

I am well, ma’am. Thank you, I said.

Your daughter looks very respectful, Mary-Agnes. I guess you are raising her well, Mrs. Margaret Hanson said and chuckled.

Very well, my dear child. I could not have asked for a more respectful, well-mannered daughter. Joe and I are very lucky and also very happy to have Mariana as our daughter, Mrs. Mary-Agnes said as she looked me up and down and smiled.

That is very good. I am happy for you because that is what you always wanted—to have a daughter who is respectful and, at the same time, loving. I guess the good Lord answered your prayer, Mrs. Margaret Hanson said. Mrs. Mary-Agnes went in her bag and took out the dress she had made for Mrs. Hanson and handed it to her. She looked it over and was quite excited to have her new dress in hand.

You have done it again. You have done an amazing job, and I must say you will always have my business. I will try it on again to see how well it fits, she said.

That’s right. I would like to see how it fit just in case I have to do some alteration, Mrs. Mary-Agnes said.

We were all girls in the room, so Mrs. Margaret Hanson was not afraid to change right there. She pulled a blue-and-white housedress over her head and then put on the new dress.

It fits very well and does not need any alteration, she said. It was easy to tell that the dress was made for her. The arms were perfect, the waist was perfect, and the length, which reached many inches below the knees, was just how Mrs. Margaret Hanson wanted her dress.

So how much do I owe you? she asked.

Only a pound, she said. Mrs. Hanson went in her bosom and pulled out a bag from which she took out a pound and handed to Mrs. Mary-Agnes.

I thank you, my dear child. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.

Mary-Agnes, you always come through when I needed you most. I will be looking quite nice for my cousin’s wedding next Saturday, Mrs. Margaret Hanson said.

Can I get you all anything to drink? I have ginger beer and lemonade if you like, she said.

Yes, please. Ginger beer will certainly quench our thirst, Mrs. Mary-Agnes said. She walked over to the dining room, which was similar to ours but with a little less furniture. She brought back two cups of ginger beer and handed them to us.

We thank you very much, Mrs. Hanson. This drink came at the nick of time. Our thirst will certainly be quenched with this nice, cool ginger beer, Mrs. Mary-Agnes said.

After several minutes, we decided to leave; that way, we would get to the other side of Golden Spring before it was too dark. I must say that in those days, there were no electric lamps at that part of the parish, so we had to rely on bottle torch to guide