My Tears Would Dry

By Galaletsang Namoshe

The Daleberry family was hit hard by the death of Crystal Malia Wadesand. She left behind three children and a husband. The latter married another woman who tore the family apart and later divorced him. Andre became a gay for a short time and the man he was in a relationship with dumped him. Finally, Andre found love in the loving arms of Cassidy who appreciated him and his family and life

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781698700298

Galaletsang Namoshe

Galaletsang Namoshe is a young Motswana lady, born by a Zambian single mother who became a Motswana by citizenship. Galaletsang has both Zimbabwean and Zambian roots from both her maternal grandparents. She is from a family of seven including herself (i.e. four brothers, two sisters). Galaletsang was born on the 3rd of April in 1986 at Jubilee Hospital in Francistown. She went to Serule Primary School, Bonwatbu Community Junior Secondary School, and lastly Shoshong Senior Secondary School for her schooling. Galaletsang holds a degree in Business Administration majoring in Human Resources Management from the University of Botswana. Although Galaletsang was born underweight, she defied all odds, grew up a healthy and normal baby, was successful in her academics and became the woman she is today. She is a dedicated writer who is working on several manuscripts pending publishing.

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© Copyright 2020 Galaletsang Namoshe.

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.

isbn: 978-1-6987-0030-4 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-6987-0029-8 (e)

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

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Trafford rev. 03/13/2020

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the children who lost one of their parents and find life difficult to live due to the pain caused by someone who replaced the gone parent. The situation whereby the kids are abused either physically or emotionally and are denied material things occur mostly when a mother has passed away. The stepmother, coming in the lives of the remaining kids, ill-treats them and treats them like the soil we trample upon. I want to give hope to all those who find themselves in this situation and tell them that when you work hard, you can overcome what is happening around you. Do not despair, life is full of many different challenges, and if you work hard to become a better person, you can change those challenges into opportunities. When you fail in life, see if, by moving a step ahead to make what is called improvement, would not change that. I love you all.

Thanks a lot.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Acknowledgement is an imaginary large-mouthed basket, rich with comestible and provided with love, gratitude and humility to those who made the impassable track passable, those who allowed order in disorder and gave strength where lived weakness, provide encouragement were there was dismay and wrapped love around where the teeth of hatred were exposed.

The meal in this basket should be enough for everyone deserving a share of it. Those who deserve to eat in this rich basket are my mother, my sister, Martha, her young daughter (the youngest called Atang) and her two grandchildren.

To my mother, you deserve a large chunk from this basket I hold with pride. I am where I am because of you. You gave me encouragement and a belief that I can be a writer. Every time I said, I want to do this, you would say, you can do it. You guarded me all night long when I wrote and sometimes you would hold my hand and say, you are tired, you need to go to bed. When I refused, you would look deeper into my eyes and say, the way you read and write is not at all healthy, you will get sick. Hearing this I would then know that I had defeated her and we would spend the whole night sitting while I continued my writing.

To my sister you deserve a huge helping served with gratitude. You took your few and last coins and travelled as far as Selebi Phikwe to buy correction pens for me so that I could present my work neatly and in an easier to read from. You kept on going there whenever the one you bought got finished. Thanks a lot.

Lastly, to my sister’s daughter Atang and her grandchildren (My sister’s grandchildren) Bakang and Gofaone, all I could say is that the crumbs belong to you. My mother would cook and send you to bring some food to me every time when I wrote my novel, having shut the door and allowed the room to swallow me. One of my sister’s grandchildren would come with a closed plate of food, the other with a cup full of water while my sister’s daughter brought a cloth for me to mop my hands dry. I would wash my hands, dab my hands and ask them to go and fetch their food, and all of us would enjoy the comestibles in the same room, talking while they asked me unending questions about my books.

CHAPTER

1

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M any stories, both exciting and scary, have been told about the Eastern Merind. Some people told of how this strange place was haunted by the ghost of the Crown Princess of Rhealand, Princess Rhea Lavacadden. Who could forget how tragically life was stolen from her? She came to a watery grave in Eastern Merind; a notorious river in a small and sleepy town of Kenslagen which secretly curves through the ground towards the valley by the distant hills.

A brunette of fourteen years, cute and hardly attracting a smile to her lips, lay on her stomach atop her neat bed in her comfortable bedroom, having securely closed the door and then locked it to avoid being disturbed by her siblings, her step mother or her lovely dad, Andre Daleberry.

Her name was Tori and she tolerated no silly nicknames around her. If one did not know her very well, she could be absolutely mistaken for a bad girl. She was nice at times, while moody most of the time. Trina, her stepmother’s elder daughter with Anthony Fischel, nicknamed her ‘the cat’, saying whenever she was sullen; her bony cheeks were better compared to that of an alley cat. This name however was only known by her and some of the inhabitants of that mansion, while as for its owner, her mind was totally devoid of the ability to competently recognize this ‘naughty’ identity.

At that very hour, Tori was in no mood for company and preferred to be alone in her poky room which also welcomed great quietness as if it was located in a cemetery. She had been to an upmarket town’s library some hours back to do part of her research about the tragic death of Crown Princess Rhea Lavacadden. She had borrowed some document to extract a sea of information cached in it. Upon realising that it was just ‘shallow’, she slipped into anger and regretted having made unimaginable effort to pay that spot a visit. Still, she had to make time and call at another library to exhaust her energy in retrieving any information-loaded literature that might come in handy to wrap up her piece of work.

The last time her older sister Jenny trod inches closer to Eastern Merind was four years ago on a short compulsory school trip. Its principal aim was to provide education to the students about detrimental effects of pollution on various physical features, especially the rivers. They were then lumbered with the task of penning an essay on what they made out about that place, and it has been a year now since that assignment was entirely finished and successful results accumulated by some brilliant pupils.

To Tori, Eastern Merind was her real mystery whereas the memory of its ugly appearance flashed through Jenny’s mind any second she remembered that awful day. With more abuse played on it, its water turned dark, brackish, smelt horrible and it threatened to slowly die out. One could totally gainsay the fact that it ended the precious life of one member of a royal family, who in that fateful year was learning to fish with her friends.

During the visit of the pupils of Green Lawn there, the red- leafed trees had rimmed its banks like a city besieged by rebels and the tiny red stones were also thrown at another side of its edge. There was no any promising life there and the scarlet leaves and stems belonging to the nearby trees could have been compared a lot better to the once successful models, who were slowly getting closer to being emaciated and living the life of a dog, extremely thin with shaggy hair. The hapless ones together with some useless twigs were driven to a ‘barren womb’ below. Food became unavailable for the surrounding forlorn red bush. Both the wild and domestic animals deserted this contaminated water, which was partially invaded by dove-grey huge rocks standing boldly like a determined warrior. Tori swore to never step anywhere closer to that ‘thread of natural water’ after learning about a bad reputation the river carried. Coming to her ears that her class should pay Eastern Merind a visit, her heart pounded the ribs and fright weakened her. A sigh of relief engulfed her when they were told to do a research on Princess Rhea’s death, as the trip had been cancelled. On the chest of drawers rested a family photo album which she reached for, to leave herself pretty nostalgic about the happy days she used to experience way back. Somebody effectuated a slight sound outside the door to her room, it was her little brother Edward Daleberry, affectionately known as Eddie, for she immediately made out her dad’s friendly deep voice ordering him to refrain from such a ‘tiny’ act. One would not believe that Eddie was very young and naive when his mother, Crystal Wadesand passed away. He was nearly a week old, now he was about three years old. Death is ruthless; Tori thought to herself. Opening the first leaf of the album, there was Cassidy Rathhart, the woman she absolutely loved and mightily prayed that she be her step mother. A light kiss was instantly sent to her.

Cassidy was a chef and a hotel servant. She played a crucial role in raising Eddie from her generosity and knowledge of various ‘families of food’ to have ever lived. Now, where she could have been in this huge world was a question Tori would be completely defeated to assay answering it, but all she was in a position to do was to point her father with a blame that he did less than enough to save his relationship with Cassidy from fizzling out.

Next, she took a look at Kaylene Gendren’s photo, her late paternal grandmother. What a sweet, loving and caring soul she was