Love Was Not Lost

By James Kirby

Love Was Not Lost is a story which places the central fictional characters into turbulent historical events. It is told by a father to his daughter in an attempt to salvage their relationship. The narrative blends their present day interaction with their family’s history in an effort to understand who they have become.
From Germany to Guatemala, America to Cuba the story of the Stern family and those whom they loved spans over a century. It is set in the historical backdrop of the birth and rise in power of the United Fruit Company and the CIA backed overthrow of the Guatemala government. The characters are caught up in a vast and international drama which begins with the birth of Guatemala’s banana and coffee industries and extends to the genocide of nearly 200,000 native people. Although the lives in each generation seem to be determined by choice and chance, the unseen hand of God is at work weaving them into a rich tapestry.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Oct 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664203815

James Kirby

I am a 67-year-old retiree who had a lot of time on his hands. Some six years ago I challenged myself to study the most difficult subject that came to mind. Little did I know then that it would lead to this little book. I live in the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains near a town called Golden, British Columbia, in a small village called Donald Station. I have always been curious about the natural world, and have spent a lot of time observing nature, and its denizens. It is my hope that this book will give the general public some idea that the universe and how it functions is not beyond their understanding and that with an understanding of the basics, it can open up a new topic of discussion among friends and colleagues, one that was once thought to be too complex, and best left to the professionals. I hope that you will enjoy reading this book, as much as I liked writing it, and remember knowledge is the keystone to self advancement.

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Copyright © 2020 James Kirby.

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except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press

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Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from The Holy Bible, New

International Version®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by

Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN: 978-1-6642-0380-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-0382-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-0381-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020916738

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/06/2020

Contents

Introduction

Part One The Passage

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Part 2 Coup D’état

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Part Three Cuba

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part Four Closure

Cast of Characters - Historical

The Americans:

Governmental

President Harry S. Truman - U.S. President 1945-1953

President Dwight D. Eisenhower - U.S. President 1953-1961

John Peurifoy (1907-1955) - Ambassador to Guatemala

1953-1954, known as "the state department’s ace

troubleshooter in Communist hotspots."

Senator Joseph McCarthy – U.S. Senator from Wisconsin 1947-1957

General Walter Bedell Smith – Chief of staff under General Eisenhower

during WWII Allied invasion of Italy and during the Tunisia Campaign

John Foster Dulles – Secretary of State under President Eisenhower

Claude Pepper, Mike Mansfield, Alexander Wiley, - Senators

John McCormick – 45th Speaker of the House of Representatives in 1962

Colonel Albert Haney - CIA

Frank Wisner - CIA

J.C. King - CIA

E. Howard Hunt - CIA

Delarm, Cheeseman, Beall - CIA pilots

The Guatemalans

Governmental

Dr. Juan José Arévelo Bermejo - First elected Guatemalan president

Ubico – Guatemalan Dictator 1931-1944

General Frederico Ponce – Guatemalan Dictator July 1944-October1944

Captain Jacobo Arbenz – Guatemala’s elected President 1951-1954

Colonel Carlos Castillo Armas – The Liberator of CIA Operation Success

Colonel Diaz – Guatemalan president June 27-29,1954

United Fruit Company (UFC)

Minor C. Kieth - South American Railroad tycoon, co-founder of UFC

Andrew Preston - Co-founder of UFC

Sam The Banana Man Zemurray - CEO of UFC

Berneys - Father of Public Relations

Thomas G. Corcoran (Tommy the Cork) - political influencer

John Clements - political influencer

Eli Black - CEO of United Fruit Company 1970-1975

Others

Manuel Bonilla - President of Honduras 1903-1907

Lee Christmas, Guy Machine Gun Maloney - soldiers of fortune

Joseph Vaccaro - The Ice King of banana shipping

Love Was Not Lost

Cast of Characters - Fictitious

The Mayans

Tohil - husband

Yatzil - wife

Itzal – daughter to Tohil and Yatzil, Rainbow woman

Sachi - maid to Cici

The Guatemalans

Governmental

Captain José Lopez Salazar (El Jaguar) - aide to Colonel Armas

Civilian

Miguel - son of Itzal

Juan Castillo Alverez, wife Maria - wealthy land owner

Cecila Castillo Perez (Cici) - their daughter

Dr. Edwardo Ramirez de Léon - doctor in Antigua

The Cubans

Fr, Antonio Giancarlo – former Jesuit priest

Ernesto – village leader of Punta de Cartas

Lolo, son of Ernesto

Mercedes – revolutionary rebel, daughter of wealthy sugar producer

The Americans

Governmental

Brandt Stevens - FBI

Chad Everett - CIA, recruiter and field operative

Lloyd Taggot - CIA, manager

Walter Walt Ainsworth - CIA, personnel department

Clayton Skagg - CIA, legendary field operative

Dr. Oliver (Ollie) Wilson - State of Louisiana medical officer in Livingston

Civilians

Carlos Stern - son of Miguel

Judith Stern - daughter of Carlos, granddaughter of Miguel

Conor and Eileen Flanagan – banker, parents of Claire

Claire Flanagan, teacher, daughter of Conor and Eileen

Peter Evans - news reporter, friend of Miguel and Claire

Laura Evans – lawyer, wife of Peter

Elizabeth Lizzy Brogan - nurse to Claire

Frank Chaney - managing editor of Philadelphia Globe newspaper

The Germans

Werner and Ruth Stern - entrepreneurs dealing in coal

Karl Stern - brother to Werner

Franz Stern - youngest brother to Werner and Karl

Herr Schmidt - director of AG Vulcan Stettin

Dieter - wood procurement for SS Kaiser Wilhelm II

Bruno (Berto) and wife Greta (Gracia) - coffee growers in Guatemala

United Fruit Company

Byron Russell - senior manager

Harry Stevenson - mid-level manager at Tela

Paul - mid-level manager at Bananera then at Tecesate, Helen, wife

their sons; Joshua and Caleb

Albert (Big Al) Bigby - mid-level manager at Bananera

Henry Palmer - senior manager at Bananera

Others

Leone Abategiovanni (changed to Leo Ellis) – masonry contractor

Mary (wife), Bradley, Tony (sons), Laura (daughter)

Bradley (Brad) Ellis - son of Leo, acquaintance of Miguel, CIA operative

Mark - football quarterback, Brad’s friend

The Doctor – health provider o Claire

James and Margaret Willoughby - passengers on SS Kaiser Wilhelm II

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To the

memory of those who were lost.

We would do well to learn their simplicity and gentleness.

Introduction

What follows is a work of fiction. The central characters of the story come from the imagination of the author. However, much of the story’s landscapes in which the characters find themselves are historical. There was a United Fruit Company, there is a Central Intelligence Agency, and together they did conspire to bring down the government of Guatemala. That the Guatemalan president who was ousted was democratically elected by that sovereign nation is also a fact. Unfortunately, the genocide of more than two hundred thousand civilians during the civil war which followed the 1954 coup is also true. The concept of the story is loosely based on the background of the author’s wife. She still remembers some of the events of 1954 while living in Guatemala City as a young child. Careful attention has been given to prevent direct interaction between those characters which were historical and those which are fictitious.

The impact of the historical events on the lives of the main characters is told by a father to his daughter in an effort to reconcile their dysfunctional relationship.

One other thing. It is also true that Guatemala is a beautiful country with a rich and diverse cultural heritage. Through compassion and care, the older and gentler elements of that heritage can live on for future generations to appreciate.

Rather the flight of the bird passing and leaving no trace

Than creatures passing, leaving tracks on the ground.

The bird goes by and forgets, which is as it should be.

The creature, no longer there, and so, perfectly useless,

Shows it was there----also perfectly useless.

Remembering betrays Nature,

Because yesterday’s Nature is not Nature.

What’s past is nothing and remembering is not seeing.

Fly, bird, fly away; teach me to disappear.

Alberto Caeiro (1879 - 1915), Portugal

PART ONE

The Passage

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Chapter 1

December 02, 1880

Mount Fuego, Guatemala

Tohil stood silently, head down, arms limp, feet shuffling. Showing affection was difficult for him in full view of other Mayans. He looked into the face of his wife, Yatzil, as he gently helped her off their donkey. Her eyes revealed both tenderness and foreboding. Understanding each, he turned and motioned toward the village.

Stay here until I return. I will go back and gather what I can. I’ll bring the donkey with me. Now rest, this day has been hard on you. He placed his hand on her swollen abdomen and added, And on our child.

Tears fell from Yatzil’s eyes.

If he is a boy, we will name him after the god of thunder, he said looking over his shoulder at the gathering gloom. If the baby is a girl, we will call her Itzal, Rainbow Woman.

Several weeks ago, the mountain had shown signs of change, but Tohil and Yatzil living on its flank did not know how to interpret them. It wasn’t until the birds had all flown away that they experienced fear. Tohil was oblivious to the changes taking place deep in the mountain and could not have known what was soon to happen.

Staring again at the mountain towering behind him, he shook his head and said, No, continue moving with the others. Do not stop here. I will return and find you at another village further along. Now go. We have no more time. He left her there on the road with the others. She remained still, watching him go until he was out of sight.

Hours later he entered their humble shelter and grabbed all he thought important, tying most of it on his donkey and leaving some for himself to carry. Looking around one last time at the home he had worked so hard to build, Tohil turned and began to run back down the path.

His wiry legs churned rapidly. Looking back, then forward and back again, Tohil could move no faster; he was burdened by the heavy load on his back. His right hand grasped his donkey’s reins. She too was burdened down but ran at a near gallop, eyes wild with ears pulled back. He feared that returning for a few meager things had been foolish and that he had stayed too long.

Enormous pressure was forcing molten rock below the earth’s mantle upward, searching for an escape. The volcano Fuego was a vent and would provide that relief as it had done many times through millenniums. The upward thrust produced no earthquakes, except for a few tremors that the villagers thought commonplace.

On the morning of December 2, 1867, a surge of molten rock reached vast caches of hidden water which had collected within the mountain from decades of rain. The bottom of the volcano’s caldera, nearly a perfect circle, was a plug of lava laying in the base of a crater left by the last eruption fifty-seven years before. A shallow, serene lake hid all evidence of this plug, belying the danger it caused. The surge slowed, the plug having briefly held the lava’s upward motion in check, and the stalled molten rock turned the hidden water into pressurized super-heated steam. A booming eruption took Tohil by surprise; the caldera plug could no longer hold the pressure.

Tohil’s breathing was labored; he ran at a steady but frantic pace. Then the donkey took the lead, dragging Tohil along.

With several more deafening booms a tightly compressed mass of volcanic gases and super-heated steam blasted through Fuego’s clogged throat giving violent and destructive life to the mountain once again. A horrendous sound and the hideous stench of burning sulfur escaped from the caldera followed by a massive cloud of smoke. Small rocks, pumice, and ash were viciously propelled into the sky by the foul gases and steam. In the early morning light this pillar of cloud looked both terrifying in power and awesome in beauty. It reached higher with each second in a rolling, boiling motion, twisting and turning as it grew more menacing and deadly. Soon, boulder sized projectiles, hurled aloft by the initial explosion, pummeled the land like a volley of artillery shells. The pillar continued to rise higher with an anger and arrogance as if to challenge the very gates of heaven. Then, when it had reached nearly five miles into the sky, the pillar of cloud began to collapse in upon itself, a victim of its own dense weight.

Exhausted and terrified, Tohil stumbled and fell on his face. His hand lost grasp of the reins and the donkey broke away.

The destruction grew in two directions. The collapsing cloud of pumice and ash dropped back down dragging with it the gases still issuing from its throat in and giving birth to a pyroclastic flow. Gathering speed until it reached 220 miles per hour and following the shape of the volcano, the flow raced downward, crashing, churning, devouring, utterly destroying everything in its path. No building survived; no tree was left standing. The sound was deafening. Temperatures at the leading edge of the flow were nearly three hundred degrees. What was not instantly burned up was obliterated by the rocks and debris hurtling along at blinding speeds. Tohil and his donkey were instantly asphyxiated then vaporized, never knowing what hit them. Below, the pyroclastic flow brought instant destruction. Above, the cloud carried a slower death.

The pillar of light ash and smoke continued its ascent until it reached an altitude of nearly eight miles. Winds blew the column toward Lake Atitlán, twenty-five miles away. Ash and debris fell along the way covering the ground like a carpet two to three feet thick, collapsing roofs, killing livestock and destroying all crops and plants in its path. It blanketed the ground in death.

In time the land would heal, the fertile ground would burst forth once again with life, and the region would become one of the premier coffee growing areas in all of Central America. But this was many years in the future and of no consequence to Yatzil. The pain she felt at the realization that Tohil would never return would never fully heal.

Yatzil’s frantic flight from Fuego started early enough to put her beyond the reaches of the lava flow. Passing several abandoned villages, totally exhausted, she finally reached a small hamlet of crude shelters crowded with other refugees. She collapsed. When she was revived, she told her story to those who had helped her, an echo of their own flights from Fuego’s fury. Tender Mayans, seeing that she was pregnant, mercifully lifted her into a cart to continue her flight with others. All were weary and fearful. It was during the next morning that they heard the blast, turned, and saw the pillar of cloud begin to rise in the distance. Thoughts of Tohil consumed her, drawing consciousness away and replacing it with nightmares filled with evil spirits.

Much later and miles away from danger, the soft voices of people walking alongside gently awakened her. The pace of her mule-drawn cart had slowed to a crawl. Soon the small group came upon another village that was not so crowded. It offered a welcome of food, water and rest. Most of the group stayed, making it their new home. Others pressed on, but Yatzil could go no farther. Her plight was now a matter for the village leaders.

It was decided that she should stay in the care of their village, that her child would be delivered there, and that the child would be the responsibility of the community as all Mayan children were.

Later, in the season of planting, Yatzil stayed behind with a few others while most of the village traveled to plantations on the Boca Costa where the western slope of the mountains tumble into the Pacific. Her baby was still very young and would need too much attention for Yatzil to be of much use on the plantations, but she would be able to manage work in the village garden. All these things Yatzil did. She named her daughter Itzal, Rainbow Woman.

The following year, she and little Itzal joined those who made the yearly trek to large plantations. They worked themselves thin and returned months later having earned enough to survive until the next growing season; the cycle of Mayan life. Yatzil found a place in the community but was unable to find a husband. The eruption had made many widows. Men were few, and unattached men rare. Yatzil thought about her future, and about Itzal. Like other women in her situation she cast her eyes on every available man. She found one on the plantation. He was gentle and sensitive. His name was Javier.

His ancestors were Mayan, but the conquest of the Conquistadors introduced seeds of a different strain and his ancient blood line was diluted with Europeans. He was a ladino, neither fully Mayan nor European. Naturally industrious and resourceful, he gained a respected position on the plantation overseeing the Mayan laborers who worked the massive banana groves. Yatzil succeeded in catching his attention, and soon afterward, he took her as his wife and Itzal as his own child.

Yatzil’s new husband was ambitious. Not long after their marriage, and with sufficient money saved, he moved his new family to San Juan Atitlán on the western shore of Lake Atitlán. His plan was to transport produce from the rich farms and plantations on the western slopes, across the lake, to the markets in Antigua on the eastern side. For this he would need a boat. A cayuco, or small canoe, would serve his purposes initially. Later he purchased a small foreign-built sailboat. He became settled, comfortable and successful, enjoying life for years until one season of exceptionally heavy rain caused a landslide that changed everything.

Yatzil died in that disaster, buried with the rest of San Juan Atitlán, except for Javier and Itzal who had sat in their boat, stalled on the eastern side of the lake, and waited for the weather to improve. Upon their return and while sifting through the destruction, something deep within his heart left him, lost forever. He got back into his boat and with young Itzal at his side, sailed across the lake to San Lucas Tolimán. He bought a small shack with what money he had left and turned to a very simple life of fishing to provide food and the means to barter for the few necessities the lake could not provide.

Years later, after Javier passed, a man would find Itzal living as many Mayan Indians did, in humble circumstances but with great dignity. She would someday bequeath those qualities to her own son giving him a deep well of quiet confidence.

June 23, 2018, morning

San Francisco Bay Area, California

Judith Stern sat comfortably in seat 2A, enjoying the last few sips of her coffee while watching Mono Lake fall away before the eastern slope of California’s Sierra Nevada mountains. She would soon fly over Yosemite, then begin the descent into San Francisco. If she knew what to look for, she might be able to spot the sheer face of Half Dome, but she didn’t know. She was a New Yorker on her first trip out west. Turning her head to get one more look at Mono Lake, she saw a stray hair on the shoulder of her suit jacket. She brushed it off, turned forward again, closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift.

She enjoyed flying, provided it was in first class, and preferred the window seat. The perspective from thirty thousand feet served to clear her mind. It helped her in her work by enabling her to see beyond the myriad of details and grasp the larger context. It was also when she allowed thoughts about herself and her past to gain a toehold on the edge of her mind; a tentative place to hold them while she decided whether to look at them. Usually she decided not to look. Her business team had suggested this trip, and she had allowed that, thinking that they were right. This particular client was important for her to visit and see face to face. Allowing herself a brief smile, she thought how thinly veiled her team’s ulterior motives were. They hinted that she also include a small diversion and visit her father. Her smile wasn’t really a smile. It was more of a smirk. They were so transparent, she muttered, but she had tolerated it and allowed herself to be talked into it. Judith had seen very little of her father since the funeral. Somehow, he had managed to stay in touch, mostly by email, and sometimes she had answered, but not often. He nearly begged her to come for a visit in the mountains of California. That begging was years ago, but she was too busy to come. Always too busy. She was unable to shake the feeling that she owed him, thinking that it was for providing for her education and the money that always seemed to be there while she was a student or when she started her business. He had provided all the money without asking so much as one question. She had paid him back all she knew he had spent, but still, there was something more that nagged at her. "Guess I do owe him something else," she thought, So here I am. But I don’t have to stay long.

Her mother died twenty-seven years ago, when she was thirteen. She had been sick for a year. Her death marked the end of Judith’s childhood. Some childhood, she thought, Can’t even remember being a real little kid, can’t remember what my mother looked like anymore, can’t picture my father, and for good reason, he was never around, always off somewhere changing the world, Mr. Do-good. He was there when Mom was sick, I’ll give him that. But it was for Mom, not me and Mom, not for me.

It was a smooth landing, after which Judith retrieved her one piece of luggage. She made her way to the rental cars, then headed to her motel in a Range Rover. Her team said that she might need it when the time came to head into the mountains, but for now she put away such thoughts and focused on the business side of her trip. This was for a new client. She had been to enough of these meetings to know the drill. Usually, someone else on her team handled ‘First Contacts’ as she called them. Occasionally the client wanted, or insisted, on meeting the woman at the top. She found such meetings boring; always following the same pattern. The people she met were very interested in what she had to offer, but did not want to appear too eager, so they usually met in a relaxed setting, never in a boardroom. Meetings in boardrooms were for the teams, where what was needed from both perspectives was hammered out. What was required of her at this small dinner gathering was to tell them about herself. They wanted to be sold on her, a task she loathed. On with the show, she thought, as she began rehearsing her lines:

After attending high school in the Boston area, I was accepted to MIT where I did well, and in a relatively short period of time, completed a double Master’s in higher mathematics and business management. Soon after graduation I became interested in large scale construction. I hired on as a construction manager for a four-storied building and found that I liked the challenge of dealing with all the components of bringing a concept into reality. From there I found myself managing the construction of increasingly complex buildings, until I was managing the construction of hospitals. My exposure to many architects, engineers and sub-contractors gave me the idea of forming my own consulting firm. Since those days, we have been involved in several significant projects including the construction of a dam in Africa. It generates enough hydroelectric power to elevate the entire region to a higher economic standard. It has become the mantra of our company to build a better future in every endeavor we set our minds and hands to.

There, she thought, That’s as concise as I can make it for the who’s Judith end of the rhetoric I have to give. Hate this part, but I want this contract, so, I have to do this.

The dinner went well, as expected. The teams would take over next. She drove out early the next morning, opposite those commuting into the Bay Area. Once past Modesto her route turned directly east, into the sun and into the open rolling foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains along Highway 120. The hills were covered with dried grass, golden in the bright sunlight. The occasional valley oaks looked majestic, rugged, and old. The air was clear and warm, free of moisture, giving the quality of clarity to the scene around her; a quality she wished she felt toward the impending encounter with her father.

Siri directed her to Long Barn, a small mountain community not far from Sonora Pass high in the Sierras. She turned off the highway and headed along the first of several narrow and twisty roads. Next, she would have to follow her father’s carefully worded email. As she began to climb higher into the Sierras, she thought that her apprehension at seeing her father increased in direct proportion to the altitude. If I climb any higher, I’ll be totally petrified, she thought, This is so silly, stupid really, why am I acting like a child? I’m a grown woman, with my own company, I can do this. This is crazy! Oh, finally, there’s the first dirt road, if I don’t get lost, I’ll be there soon... Neither happened, she didn’t get lost, and she didn’t arrive very quickly. She drove another 35 minutes through Ponderosa pines and cedars, then along the top of a granite ridge before pulling up to the cabin.

She closed the Land Rover’s door, and shielding her eyes from the bright sun, looked all around and was struck by the panorama of rugged beauty in every direction. Hearing a door open, she turned her attention toward the cabin. The trim figure of a man emerged from the shadows of the deck. He descended the few steps to the ground waving as he approached.

Judith, dear!

A pause. Carlos, she said.

June 23, 2018, evening

Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

Having taken a good hot shower and changed into more casual clothes, Judith was as ready as she would ever be. She had rehearsed what she would say to prepare her way for an early get away, In two days max, she thought, and felt confident that she had a fool-proof plan. She found Carlos on the back deck watching the sun set. She resolutely stepped out.

Beautiful, isn’t it. Carlos said softly without moving.

Stunning. Then, waiting for a reply but not receiving one, she said, Carlos, I’ve just set quite a lot in motion on this trip, in terms of business, and I have a lot to communicate to my people back in New York. So, unless you have internet out here, which I doubt since there are no wires coming to your house, ah...cabin, I’m sorry to say that I can only spend a day or so here, probably leave tomorrow. I hope you understand.

You can use my MAC if you like. It’s up in the loft. The link-up’s quite fast, shouldn’t be a problem.

Really? How did you manage that? She was surprised and realized with dread that she didn’t have a plan B.

I have solar panels out back for the power, and, well, the internet is only a satellite away.

Well, uh, I’ll only be a few minutes, Okay?

Sure, would you like some wine?

Wine? She had taken him for a beer guy, had even brought along a 6-pack, not wanting to arrive empty handed. Wine’s great, white if you have it.

Thanks. She turned quickly after taking the glass, and made her way up to the loft, not to email, but to regroup. This isn’t going the way I figured at all! Now I’m stuck here. Have to make the best of it. I can do this. I can still go whenever I want....

After a little wine, she felt some of her tension melt away. With nothing of substance to email, having done that after the meeting, she stayed up in the loft anyway, looking around, trying to get a better idea of the man she was dealing with. "Not too many clues, the typical things lying around, and some foreign-looking stuff, knick-knacks...that figures...probably from Guatemala or some place. Old looking books and stuff. Whatever. And it’s deathly quiet. Don’t remember seeing a flat screen, gonna be a long night...."

Dinner was surprisingly good, some sort of fish he said. Steelhead he said. Good though.

Evening came, and with it came darkness. Look, I’m beat from the trip out here, the meeting... you know? I think I’ll turn in. Okay?

And the evening and the morning were the first day; not too good.

The thing about dawn is that it restarts everything. In another way of putting it, all things are new each morning, at least to those with an open mind. Judith, however, woke up in much the same state of mind as when she arrived. It didn’t matter that the coffee was well beyond Starbuck’s, and the vista before her breath-taking. She could not get past the fact that she had no idea who her father was and that she was trapped out here with him in the middle of nowhere.

Can I get you something for breakfast? Carlos asked.

Don’t suppose you have a plain bagel with cream cheese?

Sorry, no. How about some fruit and cottage cheese?

Fine then. She followed him into the kitchen. So, what do you have in mind for today?

How about a short hike after breakfast?

It didn’t take long for Judith to tire from hiking. She was not used to exerting herself at an altitude of nearly 7000 ft. She was out of breath quickly. They sat on a couple of granite boulders perched on the rim of a canyon which fell away beneath them for hundreds of feet. The drop was studded with outcroppings of jagged rocks, tall pines and cedars. A gentle breeze filled with the aroma of sage ascended from the canyon below. Judith took her stiff new hiking boots off and rubbed her sore feet.

I’m sorry if all this is uncomfortable for you, Carlos said, But I’m glad you’re here.

It’s a little rough, I’ll admit, but here we are.

You have a lot of anger.

Oh really? No kidding. What’d you expect?

The anger.

Glad to meet your expectations, never knew you had expectations of me.

We’re not off to a very good start, maybe we should try again.

Fine, how’s this...Hi, I’m Judith, you know, your daughter? You don’t know me, but that’s okay, because I don’t know you either. She was on her feet and moving, walking quickly in the direction of the cabin, stumbling a bit, unsure of her footing. A few minutes later she stopped again to put her boots back on.

After a small lunch, things were better. Carlos sat on the deck reading, while Judith was busy up in the loft. After checking her emails, she inspected her father’s things in the bookcase more closely. Nothing of any value as far as I can tell, just memory stuff, pottery, some cloth or weaving, an ancient pair of binoculars, and several old leather books. Wonder what’s the story behind those? Looks like some sort of old journals. Interesting. Maps, letters… this letter’s in German, I think. Maybe I shouldn’t be looking at his stuff. Wouldn’t like it if someone did it to me. Must be important to him, though, or he wouldn’t have it way out here....

After replacing the old books, she went down the stairs taking in the living room with a careful and curious eye, trying to piece together a picture of the man on the deck. After a while she joined him, taking a chair opposite him. Carlos put his book down and looked up at her.

So, are you retired? Is that what you do? It was her attempt at being civil.

No, not really retired, just here for a while.

In between what?

I guess you could call it consulting. I guess that’s what you do too, isn’t it?

"Yes, I suppose that’s what you call it, but it’s a good deal more than that.

Tell me about it.

So, it began. Judith became increasingly comfortable the more she talked about herself, rather the business she had developed, which in her mind was inseparable from herself. After exhausting all her well-worn elucidations about her work, she found herself going deeper into what motivated her to go into her profession. As the hours passed, she reconnected with the passion she once had for her work and felt energized, alive, and excited. All the while, Carlos said very little, but seemed to understand every word.

The sun was low, and colors began to appear in the sky caught by clouds far in the distance. Judith stopped and looked for a moment, then turned to Carlos.

Sorry, I had no idea it was getting so late. We must have been talking for hours.

Quite a few, but fascinating stuff. Can I get you anything?

Any more of last night’s wine?

I’ll get it, you stay put. By the way, you’re quite beautiful when you smile.

She did stay put, sitting there for the entire sunset as well as for dinner, then the evening came and the end of the second day. And it was better.

When the next dawn appeared, it looked like a repeat performance of the day before, only on this day Judith felt less anxious. She entered the kitchen looking for the coffee that filled the air with an aroma more delicious then she ever remembered. Must have something to do with the altitude, she thought. Wonder where Carlos is, ...oh, there, on the deck.... She watched him for a few moments as he read his book, catching him unaware. Not bad looking for a father, she thought, ...in fact, looks better than a lot of guys I’ve dated. Younger too, wonder how he pulls that off. Must be the altitude, maybe the coffee... She shrugged and joined him.

Morning. You know, this is really good coffee. What brand is it?

You are kidding, aren’t you? Don’t you know?

No, she said with a self-conscious laugh as she sat in the chair opposite him. Who’s?

Mine, remember? The finca? Down in Guatemala?

Of course, I’m so sorry!

It’s okay. I guess we’ve a lot to catch up on.

Really, guess so. She took a few sips. Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was pretty angry in the morning.

Why?

Look, it’s a beautiful morning, I don’t want to spoil it. Could we just have some breakfast, let me spend some time on the computer upstairs, then we can try to hike a little farther than yesterday, okay?

Sure. Any requests for breakfast?

Yeah, I think the altitude is getting to me, I’d love some scrambled eggs. She stood up and headed for the loft. I won’t be long upstairs, just call when you’re ready. I’ll help bring it out here.

Judith wasn’t interested in going on the computer, she couldn’t stop thinking about the old books and letters up in the loft and had been curious about them all night. She took the books off the shelf carefully, as though they might fall apart, and she would have to explain what had happened. The leather covering of the first one was worn and soft. As she thumbed through it, she felt like a little kid, guilty as sin, doing something she knew was forbidden, but excited all the more because of it. The first one had drawings. They caught her eye and made her stop to look. She didn’t get very far before she closed it, and eagerly picked up another one. This one had different handwriting, definitely from another person. There was a third journal, then his voice called, Judith!

Okay, coming. She carefully put them back in exactly the same order and place where she found them. No way I can get the time alone to read them, she said under her breath, "Guess I’ll have to ask about them."

What’s in the eggs? She asked with her mouth half full.

Old family recipe, he said smiling, You add salt and pepper.

Well, whatever you did, they’re really good. She swallowed and picked up her mug, trying to look nonchalant. Speaking of old family things, I couldn’t help noticing those three old books or journals up in the loft. I’m dying to ask about them. Are they from the family?

Yes, they are, diaries really, from my father and grandfather, and one is mine, when I was younger.

Really? I guess I don’t know how to ask you, so I’ll just come out with it... is there anything you can tell me about what’s in them?

"I don’t see why not. There’s nothing really private. They tell a great deal about their lives, but they’re a lot more than just diaries. It would be like reading a small part of history from their point of view.

What kind of history, whose history?

All three journals were kept by men who lived in Guatemala. So, it would naturally be mainly about Guatemalan history, but it’s much more.

Do I understand that they’re by you, my grandfather, and my great grandfather? And there’s plenty of detail, historical stuff and personal things all rolled into one?

Something like that, yes.

Could be really interesting, especially since I know next to nothing about the family’s history.

I’m sure it would be. And you’re right, there’s a lot of detail. The journals cover a lot of people and events. I’d let you read them for yourself, but it would take you some time to piece it all together into something like a narrative, a story.

I take it that you’ve done all that already.

It took me a while. I also found out more about some of the things they mentioned, filling in some of the gaps you might say.

Sounds long in the telling.

You said you had things that needed your attention, so it’s up to you, but it’s partly about you because it’s your roots.

Yeah, I get that.

If we do this, it will be more like me telling you a story, rather than reading exactly what they wrote.

Okay, so, how about this...we, or you, start, we’ll see how it goes, and I’ll decide what time I can give it, okay? But first, let’s go for that hike. I think I owe you one.

They came to the same boulders as the day before and stopped there again. Carlos watched his daughter to make sure she was relaxed. She had been deep in thought since they left the cabin. Want to begin? he asked.

Yeah. You gotta know that I’ll have a million questions, especially about Mom. I’d like to start with her, but probably better to start at the beginning. Where do the journals start?

With your great grandfather, Franz Sterns. He was living in Germany when he began to journal.

Okay, I’ll try to be patient. Let’s start there....in the beginning.

August 23, 1904

Bremen, Germany

Franz Stern stood at the fantail of the SS Kaiser Wilhelm II watching Bremen recede in the distance. His eyes were clear and bright, his hair dark bronze, his posture erect. He was a disciplined young man, and unlike other passengers who were eager to see what was ahead, he stood aft, looking back. He was determined to make this an honorable leave-taking. He would not go forward until the ship reached the open sea, preferring to remember those he was leaving behind and to reflect on what had been both said and done to allow him to stand where he was.

He was born into wealth and was the youngest of three brothers. Werner was the oldest, two years older than Karl who was twelve years older than Franz. His birth had come as a surprise and was the delight of his parents whose joy in raising another child was instantly rekindled. His mother wanted him to become a rabbi, his father had dreams of the family coal business anchoring a dynasty. Unfortunately for Franz, both parents died while he was very young, leaving him in the care of a nanny and under the watchful and sometimes overly protective eye of his oldest brother Werner. Placing great validity in their father’s dream, Werner provided every educational advantage to young Franz, who ignored his brother’s plans for his future and learned eagerly and rapidly. His thirst for new information knew no bounds, opening his mind to possibilities far beyond his brother’s plans. Werner felt that mastery of the English language would position Franz to open new markets both in England and in America when he came of age. For his part, Franz showed an amazing aptitude for this study, becoming fluently bilingual in a few short years. However, by the age of seventeen he had also developed a few ideas of his own and thought that the time had arrived to announce his intentions.

Werner sat comfortably behind his massive desk with his hair combed tightly back against his head and chiseled jaw firmly set. He was both handsome and foreboding, but always had soft eyes when he received his youngest brother. Franz, however, had come to see a certain condescension in that softness.

Franz, how nice to see you! Werner was genuine in his affection, fatherly though it was.

Thank you for seeing me. Franz replied while taking a seat in front of his brother’s island-like desk. He was careful not to make contact with the chair’s back, but sat erect, in eager anticipation of his brother’s counsel. His posture was well practiced.

Something on your mind, Franz?

Yes, I’d like to talk about my future. Franz delivered this answer knowing full well that his future would once again be carefully explained to him.

Well, I’m glad you’ve asked, although I seem to remember having discussed this several times before. No matter, it is important and bears repetition. Werner removed his monocle, inspected it, then replaced it, and began his well-practiced ritual of preparing and lighting a cigar. His brow was creased as though he was trying to frame some vast body of thought; preparing to articulate it in a manner worthy of the rather large amount of time this articulation would require. Franz settled in for the long-haul watching cigar smoke ascend in curls.

What proceeded from Werner began with an in-depth recounting of ‘The Life of Franz’ which would include the sacrifices all had made for his future. Franz kept one ear open while his mind struggled to craft some phrase or line of reasoning which would help him gain from his brother the one thing in his life which he lacked; freedom. When the summation of his history was nearly concluded, Franz brought all of his attention to bear on the conversation.

And so, Werner was nearing completion, You have been given a great deal of talent and natural business abilities. I have always thought that the Stern family could not only make room for you, but that you could profit handsomely by our so doing. You may not be aware of this at your young age, but the Kaiser has determined that Germany shall be the primary power on the high seas. In order to accomplish this, Germany will have to build a great fleet of huge and fast ships. Greater than that of the English. Such an achievement is quite possible, and also enormously profitable for those with a keen eye to the future. Werner paused to let the full weight of his insights sink in.

It could be very profitable indeed. Franz allowed.

Ahh, you do see it too then. Good. This new fleet of ships will need vast amounts of coal to provide the power the Kaiser craves. Coal which we can supply. In fact, I have already made several strategic acquaintances in an effort to position our family to take advantage of this new market. Another pause, allowing for the wisdom of such concepts to seep into the young mind seated in front of him.

No doubt that along with this increase in sea power, our railroads will also grow, and that means more coal requirements and lower costs to transport it! Werner was warming to his discourse. It’s no secret that the Stern family has made significant investments in securing coal rights in Czechoslovakia. That, combined with our investment in your English studies will secure our future in both Europe and abroad for generations to come.

Franz saw no opening, no flaw in Werner’s logic. He remained silent.

Well? What say you? Who could resist so grand a future?

Well, I do not wish to resist it, I... I... Franz knew that this was going poorly. It wasn’t that his resolve was weakening, it was that in the face of Werner’s passion, he could not find the right words.

No resisting, of course not, we’re not speaking of your future, we’re speaking of your destiny, Werner declared, incapable of imagining that there might be another possibility. Both fell silent. Werner’s passion settled down. Will there be anything else, Franz?

Well, yes actually. I do see that my future lies in coal. But not exactly how you see it.

No? Well go on then.... Werner shifted into his most condescending tone.

Thanking his lucky stars for this small opening, Franz gathered all his strength and said, I see my future in a derivative of coal.

A derivative? Werner nearly spat out the word.

Yes, brother, in aniline dyes, derived from our very coal. Franz had spoken too quickly. Recounting his research leading to the discovery of new business frontiers was lost in his eagerness to declare them.

Surely this is some sort of jest! Where did you ever learn of such nonsense?

Brother, these dyes were invented nearly 50 years ago and are growing in importance each year. Surely you have heard of that man named Levi who has made great use of indigo colored dyes in the manufacture of clothing. He....

What kind of clothing?

In a new kind of heavy weight material for pants....

For pants? A vein in Werner’s neck throbbed.

Yes... and there are a great many opportunities in Central America for....

"Central Amer... listen