Worthless Gold Coins

By Kora Rae

We never know who we can fully trust when money is involved, and that includes family.
A dad who adores his youngest daughter sets up a trust to ensure that she’s taken care of for the rest of her life.
Her evil step sisters had other plans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781490790831

Kora Rae

Kora Rae is an American author living in Southern California. Her first book was published in 2015 and she has been writing ever since. She enjoys writing nonfiction and children's books. The writing process has always intrigued Carmen and she loves watching her work come into existence. In her personal life, Carmen is a musician, designer, and a world traveler. She enjoys traveling the world to inspire her works.

Book preview

A Saint

Damn and bitches—these two words distinctly stuck out in my memory because they’re the only times that my dad had cursed in front of me.

I was in third grade when I heard damn. I was playing in the living room with my toys. I didn’t do one of my chores. He came out and took one of my toys away while I was playing with it for my punishment. He then said, I’m not doing another damn thing for you again!

I’d never forget his face before he walked away. His face was a look of discomfort and regret. I knew he felt awkward after he said it. It must have tasted like pure vinegar to him. Any child’s reaction would be to cry. And that’s completely normal. Instead I sat there shocked. My dad doesn’t cuss! That’s the first incident.

The second occurrence was when I was in middle school. It’s always so much pressure when you’re young, trying to impress your peers. Girls at Redwood Middle School were mean. I told my dad that the girls were making fun of me during lunch because I had worn a pink plaid dress. The girls said to me that I had looked like a picnic table. I told my dad the story when I got in the car, getting picked up from school. My dad just looked at me and said, Some girls can just be such bitches.

I agreed, and I would still agree to this day.

It took me quite some time to write this story and release it into the world. For a good amount of time, I had held a lot of pain, depression, sadness, tears, and hurt inside. When we hold onto these emotions, we allow that negativity to manifest. Everything I did was tainted with that pain. It’s finally time I release it and tell my truth. The truth is the truth is the truth.

I wrote this story for my daddy.

My dad was an absolute saint. I was always intrigued in understanding his personality. Not much shook him. He never got upset and had the calmest demeanor. He was a giving character by caring about all around him, even the smallest creatures. My first memory as a child was when my dad and I would make hummingbird food each morning. I loved mixing the ingredients together and watch the water turn red. We would then hang the feeder outside, and we would watch the hummingbirds drink. Their beaks were so small and fragile. They would suckle the sweet red water. I was hypnotized by how fast their wings could flutter. Even birds this tiny were not forgotten by my dad. He cared for all. It was our weekend morning routine.

Growing up, I had a neighbor named Emma. She lived only a few houses down. Emma’s parents were Alan and Nina. Alan, Emma’s father, became good friends with my dad. Their friendship began when Emma and I would get together during the weekend for playdates. My dad noticed that whenever I played with Emma, she could never keep up with me on my scooter. She always had to run after me. The next day, my dad gift wrapped a big box with a big red bow and gave it to her. Emma’s eyes lit up as she opened the box to find a brand new scooter.

I felt as though Alan, her father, was somewhat insecure about his ability to provide for Emma as my dad had provided for me. As a young child, I knew that Alan had some problems in his past. He had demons in him that I felt he repressed. Looking back as an adult, I realized that he would lash out at times. I didn’t understand when I was just a kid. He was always scary to me. I don’t know what had happened to him in his youth, and I won’t assume anything. He would have outbursts, and I felt that he’d take it out on Emma at times and made her cry.

One night, I was at Emma’s house. I was four years old, and Emma was five. We were playing with her dolls. Unannounced, Alan came into the house, starting a frenzy. He started yelling obscenities at Emma and I. Nina, his wife, tried to calm him down. It only seemed to get worse. Emma started crying and ran into the bathroom. She was scared, and so was I. I ran out the door and ran to my house and stood there, not knowing what to do. I didn’t feel safe, but I wanted to make sure Emma was okay. I didn’t want to leave her. I could then take her into my house, and we could go see my dad. I knew that he would have the answer and tell us what to do. I ran to my dad whenever I needed help. He was my safe haven.

I waited for her, listening for any sign to see if would come out. About five minutes later, Alan came out of the house, slamming the door, and saw me standing there like a deer in headlights.

What are you doing? Get out of here! We don’t want you here! Get back inside your house! Alan screamed at me. I was scared as hell. I didn’t understand in the slightest bit what had happened. Alan was over six feet tall. This was extremely intimidating and frightening. The memory was amplified because I was only four years old. I knew at that age that if I got yelled at, it meant I did something wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong though. Neither did Emma. That’s why it had been all so confusing to me. Why did he do that?

I had asked my dad why Alan would do something like that. I wondered if Emma and I had done something to upset him. My dad calmly explained to me that sometimes people would get angry and they would say things they don’t mean. He told me that it wasn’t us. I trusted my dad and still tried to understand as best as I could.

29017.png

Alan claimed my dad to be his best friend. I thought it odd since he was the exact opposite of my dad. My dad had been financially stable for most of his life. Alan, on the other hand, not so much.

My dad’s kind ways were unlimited. When someone needed money, he would simply give it to them. This was not uncommon. He was happy to do it. He wanted to do it.

My father made a nice living for himself. He was a real-estate agent and brought multiple properties to generate income. His humble beginnings were what gave the drive to make his money.

Dad grew up in Texas with his mother, father, and his sister Gina. They lived in the house, while my father lived in the backyard in a small shed not much bigger than a twin-size mattress. He told me that he used to be so embarrassed during lunchtime at school. He went to school every day with homemade bread by my grandma instead of store-bought bread because my grandparents couldn’t afford it. Now he looked back and said what a blessing it truly was to have homemade bread. He understood what it was to not have much.

My dad was a bachelor. He married three times including my mother. He decided that marriage wasn’t for him in the end. He had never shown signs of bitterness about it. He was always happy for his ex-wives’ new husbands and content with his own life.

This was a goal I wished to achieve for myself. My dad created his own happiness. He didn’t rely on anyone else for it. His third marriage to my mother ended when I was about ten years old. Even though they had divorced, my mom and dad remained best friends until his death. Even throughout his time in