Finding Destiny E-Book

Barbara Sinor

• Herausgeber: Loving Healing Press
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Seitenzahl: 444

Beschreibung

Luana, a retired psychotherapist in southern California, discovers a novel about a girl living in England in the 1970s who has been raped. As Luana devours the book, she and the young woman each share their search for the innermost harbor of women's life choices. Even though they live in separate countries and bridge many decades in time, their individual exploration of metaphysics, spirituality, and women's rights culminates in a mysterious friendship.

"Finding Destiny invites us to find inspiration and to remember the interconnectedness of all things. One question asks the reader, 'When we fall in love, where does the love come from?' This in itself is a great starting point for a reading group; I would love to discuss this question with the author straight away. Finding Destiny addresses the reader's self-awareness, and Sinor nudges us gently to continue our journey of finding our own personal destiny. Reading the book felt like watching a movie; nail-biting moments, tears, and goosebumps--all the ingredients a good Hollywood movie needs!"
--Barbara Patterson, Soul Matters Radio, Germany
"Finding Destiny is an engaging book, exploring connections of people separated by time and space. As a woman who has experienced unplanned pregnancy, I was especially appreciative of the exploration of this theme."
--Juanita Emery, M.A., Health Practitioner
"Finding Destiny is the story of two women whose challenges and triumphs mirror each other in many ways. It is also about transformation and how to achieve it. Through this fictional story, Sinor offers an introduction to metaphysical principles that become the foundation for both women's strength and power."
--Reverend Margaret Flick, Unity Minister
"Finding Destiny goes beneath the skin, down to the internal turmoil and sacrifices of two women a half century and oceans apart as they, with their best conscience, make life-changing decisions."
--Mary Catherine O'Heart, RN

Leseprobe

Finding Destiny. Copyright © 2016 by Barbara Sinor.

All Rights Reserved.

2nd Printing January 2017

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Sinor, Barbara, 1945- author.

Title: Finding destiny / Barbara Sinor.

Description: Ann Arbor : Marvelous Spirit Press, 2016.

Identifiers: LCCN 2016013263| ISBN 9781615992997 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN

9781615993000 (hardcover : alk. paper)

Subjects: | GSAFD: Occult fiction | Love stories

Classification: LCC PS3619.I57625 F56 2016 | DDC 813/.6--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016013263

Distributed by Ingram (USA/CAN/AUS), Bertram’s Books (UK/EU)

Published by Marvelous Spirit Press, an imprint of

Loving Healing Press

5145 Pontiac Trail

Ann Arbor, MI 48105

Tollfree 888-761-6268 (USA/CAN FAX [phone]

[email protected]

Permission to use text from Ships and Havens by Henry Van Dyke is gratefully acknowledged.

Cover photo by Tracey Clark. Used with permission.

All other referenced text is used with permission under the “Fair Use” requirements with grateful acknowledgement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

The storyline within Finding Destiny can be found in every culture. The hardships women face regarding rape and/or an unplanned pregnancy can be traced from generation to generation throughout time. Women face their destiny regarding sexuality, rape, pregnancy, and motherhood with fearlessness and sometimes regrettable choices. It is time in this Twenty-first Century to support all women and their unrelenting journey for acceptance.

I dedicate this book to those women who have experienced any of the struggles found within these pages. You are the true heroines of your destiny.

Also by Barbara Sinor, Ph.D.

Beyond Words: A Lexicon of Metaphysical Thought

Gifts from the Child Within

An Inspirational Guide for the Recovering Soul

Addiction: What’s Really Going On?

Tales of Addiction and Inspiration for Recovery

The Pact: Messages from the Other Side

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Twenty Six

Twenty Seven

One

The young woman touched her belly as an unfamiliar sensation moved like a bubble floating to the top of a flute. She was aware of the intruder that was making its presence known, but would rather discount the movement to a touch of gas finding its way through her digestive tract. After all, she did not ask to become a fetal-carrier like some animal in the woods. She did not ask to be mounted like a breeding mare with her private parts spread for the taking. The woman, barely so at seventeen, was unprepared for the harrowing experience of an unjust, unloving act that left her womb inhabited with a life she could not acknowledge.

Her mind was racing like a bullet train riding the rails to its next destination determined to stop only long enough to allow its occupants a hastened exit. What should she do? Where should she go to hide the cumbersome entanglement? She knew the final deed must be completed with closure, absent of drugs and little aftercare. It must be done quickly, leaving any establishment as if she were never a resident but only leaving a piece of baggage by the door. Her childlike mind was firm; she would travel to a faraway land inhabited only by monks or nuns. She would ask for entrance with tearful begging, unveiling her belly to secure the pact. After the task had been completed, she would smile in gratitude and be on her way.

For several months, a flurry of internal questions unrelentingly haunted her days. Will there be remorse for her actions? Will she weaken her stance and change her plans? Will there be a moment when she might be tempted to touch the cheek of the interloper to submit the truth of her plight? Realizing there was no time for retreat, or to dally with the thoughts jetting through her mind, she chose to continue her subversion and travel the distance alone.

The Tele, firmly mounted on the wall to assure its safety from thieves, blared its alarm, “A Teen Runaway!” Her finger touched a button to silence the obtrusive bloke. She rolled over on her side just far enough to accomplish a position of comfort without the acknowledgement of her belly’s obstruction. The bland room had been her refuge for the last few months as she sequestered herself to allow the intruder its gestation. The corner deli provided her needs for nourishment, the Tele her entertainment. She was well aware of the time sequence involved; she had marked an “x” on the calendar tucked in her pocketbook. Her hibernation must end in two weeks; and then, she will hitch to the manor discovered in a mixture of crazy panic and intellectual calm.

The young woman was an avid theorist who wrote in journals to capture her thoughts before they flew from her mind like a drove of honey bees. Glancing at an entry several pages hence, her eyes spied two words: “Why me?” Then she addressed herself aloud, “Why not me?” Rethinking her question written so blatantly it could not be mistaken for another, she began to pen her thoughts:

Why not me? If there is a God, He (or is it She?) could pick any lonely girl to be a toy for an adolescent Neanderthal’s pleasure, and then discarded as if used equipment. If there are human trials for all of us to undergo, why not this one for me? If there is a God and humans have been given the capacity to overcome—to heal and regenerate—then why not experience this malady head on? Do I even have a choice to ignore the encroacher within me which sits like an atom bomb that will eventually explode? I think not.

At this moment, as only a humble human surfacing to breathe, I feel as though I have no right to ask questions. I feel as if I have no right to dream, or even to envision a normal life filled with laughter and love…I feel like a prisoner locked away by my own body.

The girl lowered the cherished journal while considering her thoughts. She adjusted her body again to an upright position on the too-soft mattress. The bed reeked of vinegar stains, a vague attempt to nullify the odor coming from the spots that dotted the coverlet. Folding the bed clothing in-half exposed a grey-tinged sheet abused so often it displayed fraying edges. Reluctant to sleep, she flipped the journal pages again, curious to reread her previous entry:

What a trick! My eyes closed to the probabilities of the night, I made my way to the bash being held to entice the young people of the college. I flagged a motorcar and jumped in not caring if the driver was a lady or gent. It was a gent, rather droll, about forty, who wanted company on his journey to the next casino. His eyes were obsidian black and his hair straight as straw poking unevenly from beneath his trilby. After signaling that my destination was near, he pulled the motorcar to the side, politely smiling a grin of lust.

She closed her journal and tried to remember each step taken while walking to the party that dark October night in 1975. Had she been nervous? Did she have even a hint that her life would be so misdirected in ways too unperceivable to imagine? Not wanting to actually visualize the event for the millionth time, she quickly changed her thinking to impose a random thought to her present expanded awareness: What if I somehow created that night? What if subconsciously, I had a role in my own undoing? She surmised the interesting theory and opened her brown eyes wide to grasp the unconventional concept that suddenly tempted her consciousness. Could I actually entertain this bizarre concept? she silently asked herself. But, if God gives humans freewill, why would we create pain and suffering? Perhaps, He/She isn’t on our side after all. Rethinking her position, she said aloud, “Perhaps, He/She is a prankster poking fun at our plights while waiting for us to choose mediocre roles of self-sabotage and destruction, just to laugh at our plays!”

The woman-child closed her eyes to finally allow the dregs of night to bring a morsel of rest to her brain. Alas! Her dreams were of no release as the squatter flayed inside her. The semi-conscious dreamstate took her to depths of sorrow and a longing for a life she felt was rightfully hers to create. Lately, her dreams contained a theme of infants floating to her side, and images of her parents’ faces forced with frowns of disgust. She would often jerk herself awake at the slightest vision of her parents, and lay frozen with fear gnawing at the pit of her stomach. It was then that she would grab her pen and write out the dream to capture its essence. Will you ever forgive me, Mum? she thought, as she lay awake, afraid to enter another damning dream. Will you ever understand why I fled from your hearth without a mention of retreat? Your useless words hang in my mind like used garments left for rags in a damp closet. I am sorry…I am so very sorry.

Marking out on her calendar the last few days of the three month siege, she felt a surge of emotion well up from deep inside and lost control of the tears she had shut away so tightly. There were no tears after her attacker finished his deed. There were no tears as she made her way home dabbing with a cocktail napkin the blood running down her leg. She allowed no tears to smudge her makeup two months later when the urine test edged its way into visibility, divulging the trespasser’s presence. Tears are for children, her thoughts proclaimed. I am no longer a child. I must remove my burden alone, without the knowledge of another whose eyes would trade the secret to anyone searching. No, no tears. Tears are meant for tots who fall from swings, wet their knickers and scratch their knees, not for young women who know a bit of life and its pitfalls. She wiped her eyes with the back of one hand, attesting that her current circumstance was only a reflection of the casualties she had endured.

She had always envisioned her parents as uptight Brits with the emotion of turtles wavering on a piece of wood deciding whether to continue the climb or relent and back away from the challenge. They were nice enough, even caring at times; but, her childhood was fraught with “what-will-the-family-or-others-think” kind of dilemmas. Over and over during her younger years, she heard the neverending questions, “Will the nanny think we are too lenient?” “Will Mum approve of your dress?” “Does your father know you are reading that book?” “What will your teachers think of us if you are late for class?” Most of her young years trod by without an awareness of her parents’ mutterings. Then, one day she suddenly felt free from their words that hovered in her brain like vultures eyeing their prey. At that exact moment, her life became her own.

The woman-child had no trouble hiding her current encumbered condition from her parents. After she dealt them her silent solitary hand, their interest in her dashed out the window with the frilly curtains sailing in the breeze. Her anonymity was also not difficult during this necessary respite. It was a bit like playing “Hide the Mouse,” carefully omitting a name to her persona. When she needed to sign the hotel register, she used a mysterious name to invoke a curious look from the bint behind the counter. It worked perfectly. As she took the room key, she laughed out loud as she recalled the time she had faked her identification to get into a pub with the name, Candy Duncan. The bouncer knew the candy brand and offered a donkey-laugh while pretending to eat her arm! No, there was no problem in keeping herself unnoticed and unfound.

On the final day, she stepped from the grimy shower bath only to catch her reflection in the thin rusty mirror behind the door. She stared at the girl’s face looking back at her. A common face with wide brown eyebrows that matched shoulder length hair, full natural lips sheltering imperfect ivory teeth, and high cheek bones smoothed by creamy skin inherited from her mum. Her eyes were normally brown, but turned hazel when the sun was high and shone directly upon her face. She reluctantly glanced downward and gazed un-approvingly at the limp frame standing before her. Trying to avoid viewing the large bump spreading across her middle, she turned sideways only to feel her eyes riveted to the grotesque swelling. She could not look away; her eyes were glued to the mirror in a transfixed glaze. How did this happen? It felt like an atrocity, a moment in time turned inward on itself producing a calamity of injustice. Grabbing the one scrawny towel provided the room, she covered herself only to have it gape wide to once again display the telltale deformity. Disgusting, she thought. Quickly, she began throwing on the loose-fitting clothing she had found in the rubbish bin a few months prior.

Checking out of the hotel, the girl inquired about the nearest bus station to the maid who was thoroughly surveying the room to make sure nothing had been removed. She walked to the station, which helped stretch her calves that had been latently waiting for release. She paced herself, knowing there may be another short hike to her final destination. Boarding the shuttle, she sat alone, taking two seats to discourage another from placing their body next to hers. The young woman closed her eyes to hopefully relieve their aching, and released a slight sigh of relief.

One rap, then two upon the entry door brought a doughty woman with a sluggish smirk who spoke with an unfamiliar accent, “Who’s there then?”

“My name is Destiny. I have come to bear my child and leave as I came,” the girl announced dramatically, pulling back her wrap to reveal her condition just as she had envisioned the scene.

“Come in young lady. You be far along then?” the matron asked as she viewed the girl from all sides.

“Yes, ma’am. The event is forthcoming. I wish to stay only as long as necessary to rid myself of this…this freeloader,” she replied with directness of tongue even she surmised, after-the-fact, to be too stern.

“Oh, ye wants nothing to do with the wee one then?” the matron inquired.

“No, nothing,” she answered flatly.

“Aye, deary, we’ll take good care ye sure enough,” the woman said, leading the newcomer down a long hallway within the antiquated manor.

Destiny surveyed the room with white painted walls and white curtains draped over one small window. Pulling the curtains to one side, she viewed a waist high deteriorating garden wall made of grey stone. The bed was narrow, but adequate for one. She placed her satchel on the oak chair crouched in a corner looking afraid to speak its name. There was no clothes wardrobe.

“Surely this will suffice for the few days that remain,” Destiny softly voiced her approval.

“Come now, supper’s on the table for the get’n,” the lady ordered.

“Yes, thank you. I am hungry,” Destiny spoke, trying to sound proper.

The dining room was large, seating at least a dozen women, obviously all weighed with child. Some of the residents glanced up as Destiny entered and took her seat; others not bothering to invite a connection, kept their faces close to a plate filled with chips and fish. Destiny smiled to those who caught her glance, and then proceeded to eat in silence as the other diners were portraying so admirably. The evening ended quickly, and after everyone finished their meal, they vanished into individual rooms to wait for signs of their impending event.

The following morning in the shared lavatory glistening in white shadows falling on a perfect oval sink, Destiny approached a shower bath to find a frail girl exiting. She noticed the petite girl was burdened with an oversized midriff that tilted her body forward, mimicking the famous Italian tower. When their eyes met, a moment of kindness shone as if each knew the plight of the other. They shared a silent smile and nudged bellies to complete their opposite destinations. Destiny hoped the girl would be available when she finished her shower, eager to make a connection with someone who might tell her a bit about the manor that would be her temporary residence. However, when she returned from her bath, the skinny girl had left. Destiny dressed and arrived at the forenoon meal just in time to eat a banger and scone. She spied the skinny girl at the far end of the table, and regained eye contact as they both drank their sweet juice that was provided in abundance.

Leaving the dining room, the two girls walked silently to the sitting area intent on a verbal exchange.

“What’s your name?” Destiny asked the skinny girl with the big belly.

“I am Tina. Did you just arrive?” Tina inquired.

“Yes, last evening. I am Destiny. I know this isn’t the place to make real friends, since we will be leaving soon; but, I would like to know more about this place. Have you been here long?” Destiny tried to sound friendly, but at the same time distant enough not to warrant a close friendship.

“Yes. Actually, I have been here for several months because I had nowhere else to go. The attendants seem nice enough, although they don’t talk much to any of us,” Tina said in her soft-toned voice that danced in the air.

“I felt they were rather cold, but then so am I at this point.” Destiny smiled, then continued, “You look too young to be…with child.”

“I am a full fourteen, but this was not my decision or desire,” Tina said, pointing to her belly that sat on its own pillow as if detached from its owner.

“Well, I will not pry. I do not wish to tell others my life story either. But, we could tell each other of news and information we might hear. Would you be willing?” asked Destiny.

“Oh, yes, I am happy to tell you anything you wish, Destiny. I do know that the East Hall is where the birthing takes place. I have witnessed several women wheeled down that hallway, but have not ventured to talk to any of them when they returned to their room,” Tina shared her information freely.

“That’s good to know, Tina. May I ask…are you afraid?” Destiny inquired without hesitation.

“Oh, yes!” Tina exclaimed, then lowered her voice and covered her mouth with her hand. “I am really scared, but the attendants keep reassuring me. They claim it will be over in a few hours. Then afterward, I will be free to leave with my baby within a few days.”

“Oh, Tina, you are keeping it?” Destiny said with an air of surprise that rudely displayed her opinion.

“Oh, yes, of course. I could not give up a child to another when I have grown to love it dearly for so many months,” Tina replied, stroking her belly with one hand and then the other.

“Oh, I am sorry, Tina, if I sounded so surprised. It’s just that I cannot think of this…this leech inside me, as a baby. It was spawn from an involuntary event that certainly has ruined my life. You must have experienced a different conception, one in which you both were in love I imagine,” Destiny stated, trailing her assumption with a caring gesture by placing a hand upon Tina’s belly.

“Well, I do love the father of my baby…but,” Tina leaned in toward Destiny’s ear, “he is also my dad.”

Destiny jerked her hand away not believing the words whispered in her ear by her new friend, the skinny girl with the big belly. “Oh, my God! Is this really true? Oh, Tina, I am so sorry for you! Has he been arrested?” Destiny questioned in a whisper.

The tears began to form in Tina’s eyes until she blinked and sent them dripping down her cheeks. “I am okay…and no, my dad was not arrested. My mum did not believe me when I shared the news of my situation and who was responsible. She sent me here before my condition was apparent. I have accepted my fate. I am actually looking forward to having a baby to keep me company. I will never go back to my parents’ home,” Tina said with confidence.

The two continued their revealing conversation for a few minutes longer, and then one of the attendants entered the room to announce that Destiny had to go to the medical wing. She motioned for Destiny to follow her and turned abruptly to lead the way. As they walked to the end of the corridor, the doors along the hallway were closed with no hint of life on the other side. When they arrived at the last remaining door, the attendant signaled for Destiny to enter and sit in one of the chairs that faced an old oak desk scrolled with spirals on the front panel. Just as Destiny finished making circular motions with her eyes that followed the carved spiral patterns, a large buxom woman entered and took the high-backed chair situated behind the ornate desk.

Two

Luana closed her new book. She placed the blue beaded marker she’d made last year deep into the book’s spine. When she was reading a good novel, time seemed to dash past her consciousness like a wisp of fresh air seeping through a crack in a wooden window pane. A friend had suggested she read the book, telling her it was about a young woman filled with the eternal questions of love, life, and death. After reading only the first chapter, Luana knew the book was meant for her to consume like her favorite fruit in springtime. She gathered her cup of tea to deposit in the sink to wash at a later time, knowing she must quickly return to her new treasure.

Luana’s time was her own since retirement had encroached upon her years, which left only memories of guiding others on their journey toward fulfillment of a life they had once dreamt. She had been a good mentor, a competent counselor to those who sought a woman with empathy and the patience to listen for hours to their tales of tattered lives. Now, it was time for Luana to enjoy her time to play the piano, write poetry and read enticing novels of life, love, and lust. She chose to sit outside, thinking the mild autumn sun would feel warm on her cold feet and be perfect to enlighten each word. Sitting in the lounge chair, Luana propped-up her feet to absorb the warm rays. Fingering her beaded bookmark, she hesitated a moment to reflect on the words in the first chapter she had just read. Questions roamed her mind as she recalled the two young women waiting for their labor to commence; she intuited their lives would change forever.

.]

“Are you Destiny? What is your last name, dear?” asked the unknown woman facing Destiny on the opposite side of the oak desk.

“No need to know my last name…doctor?” Destiny retorted.

“Oh, I am sorry. I dare say, I thought you were told who I was…my name is Dr. Ellsworth. I am the head obstetrician here at The Charter Manor for Women. There are two medical doctors on staff and four nurses to assist you during your time here,” the doctor stated matter-of-factly. “Now, I do need your full name.”

Destiny took a long breath inward, then released her first inspirational thought, “Lovelost…Destiny Lovelost.”

“Oh, I see. Well, Miss Lovelost, we are happy to assist you in your current situation. I was informed that you do not wish to keep your baby, is this correct?”

“Correct,” replied Destiny, with a solid tone that assured the meaning of her response.

“I will have the nurse give you the proper papers to fill out, and then tomorrow we will go over them after I give you an examination,” the doctor instructed, rose from her perch and vanished.

Destiny blindly noticed the nurse standing on her right trying to shove a stack of papers into her hand. She told Destiny they were to be completed by the time she returned the following day. The nurse left the undecorated room as swiftly as the doctor, leaving her to find her way back to the residents’ wing unassisted. As she passed the dining area, she was able to retrace the route back to her private room. Needing to pee terribly, Destiny made her way to the lavatory just in time to relinquish a deep sigh as the urine flowed from her body. “What did you expect?” she asked herself aloud, without considering if anyone else was in the loo. Settling back in her room with its little window and shy chair, she lay on the bed to process her thoughts.

Destiny realized she had dozed off when her nap was abruptly interrupted by a piercing scream. She sat upright and strained to hear the whispers down the hallway. The words were not audible, but the scream sounded a second time and brought her to her feet. She placed her ear to the old door that smelled of lemon oil, but nothing more was heard. Her mind was racing again with thoughts and questions that stung her temples. She grabbed her satchel to find her loyal journal, sat on the edge of the bed, and began to write:

Again, why me? I know…why not me. My life has little to offer, so why not trade one life filled with dreams and desires for one of trauma and grief? One life isn’t more valuable than another, I shan’t think. But where is the Divine Being that is supposed to harbor those in pain and suffering? Where is the God that is supposed to wrap children in love and assure their path is a productive and creative venture?

I think I am creative; I know I am creative. I enjoy seeing and offering new ways of imagining the world, though most have been met with deaf ears and blind eyes. Do I not deserve to relish in a proper vision like anyone else?

I come from a rightful family line that should ensure its lineage be directed to realizing their dreams. What has happened to my path? Enough! Enough sulking and projecting the pain of the other women staying here. I shall receive my rightful heritage of a life filled with productive abilities, and hopefully even love.

Destiny closed her journal, determined not to dream this night of floating babies or her parents.

When Destiny was about ten years old, she asked her mum why she had been named Destiny. At the time, her mum shrugged her bony shoulders only revealing, “In hopes that you would find your right path.” She took the answer without inquisition, knowing her mum well enough to understand she did not want to talk about the subject. Her parents had been a bit overly protective of her, until she closed them out of her life during her experimental teen years. She would purposefully leave home late at night, well-knowing her parents could hear her exiting the stately manor. Once in 1971, when Destiny was returning from a bash given by an older friend whose parents were traveling abroad for the summer, her parents confronted her tactics by standing firmly in the hall blocking passage to her bedroom.

“Why must you put us through this kind of charade, Destiny? Do you not care about how we will look to our friends if they found out you had been gallivanting around all hours of the night?” her mum asked, displaying what looked like real tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, Mum, you worry too much,” Destiny replied, edging her way past the pair who stood stiff in their cotton night clothes.

Turning to witness Destiny’s bum stride down the hallway, her father shouted, “We shan’t have any more of this, young lady, or it’s off to boarding school!”

Destiny did not curb her pubescent behavior that year, and was sent the following to attend the all girls Charlton School in Telford. However, she was not upset about the transfer to a boarding school; actually, her life became less complicated. She continued her pranks and was put on report several times, but managed to graduate with little effort. Destiny was a brilliant student and she knew it. The school afforded her the time and space to study alone, a place to sleep, and optimal opportunity to sneak out to the many parties hosted by nearby college students. She was an only child, fated to learn about boys through individual exploitation—usually theirs, not hers. She fancied herself as an independent thinker with good genes, not a stunner.

Prior to this current setback, Destiny had experienced the drama of falling in lust with a boy her own age, only to tire of his inept capabilities of pursuit. The courtship ended in its third month of floundering hands and lips missing their mark. There was passion in her body, that was not the issue. Soon, the boy became a whim to display like the chessmen she used in games to challenge her professors—she always won. After this vague attempt to be with a boy her own age, Destiny preferred older college boys.

Since Charlton was less than ten miles from her parents’ home in Wellington, they visited often. Destiny was expected to appear before them when they arrived to check on her progress. The headmistress would politely walk them through the halls pointing out the classrooms their daughter was attending, ready to attest to her above average marks. Most times, they needed to wait several minutes in the large receiving area until Destiny would finally arrive, only to kiss them on the cheek and tell them she was fine but had to leave for class. She figured, why take the time to pretend she cared enough to chat like old people over a cup of tea who only wish to hear the latest gossip of the village. Destiny felt she had received little affection as a child, so thought, why submit to niceties at this age just to appease her parents?

Many times, for the three and a half year span at Charlton, Destiny would not even bother to return home to spend bank holidays. She would relish the fact that she had the entire school to herself without the usual dormitory hallways resounding muffled giggles and high-pitched screams. She cherished her time alone and often faked illness during school breaks, just to secure her hiatus of seclusion.

Dressed and ready for the appointment with Dr. Ellsworth, Destiny again felt the bubble of life within her belly. To distract this awareness, she sought out Tina to ask if there had been a delivery last evening when the screams echoed through the halls. Spying Tina in the lounge area, Destiny slowly approached not wishing to interrupt, or join, Tina’s conversation with another woman sitting on the couch next to her. She judged the woman to be older, probably even in her late twenties. Obviously in her third trimester, the woman sat upright with a stiff frame, as if to signify she would need to rotate her entire body to view the space around her. Destiny stood a distance away, trying to look like she had business in the room other than to spy on the pair sitting on the couch.

After a few minutes, the woman rose from her sitting position, seemingly without bending, to stand nearly six feet tall. She left the room, leaving the pillow vacant for Destiny to roost beside Tina.

“Good morning, Tina,” Destiny offered, “Are you well?”

“Oh, yes, Destiny. I feel very well this morning, better than many days,” Tina replied, adjusting her big belly to face Destiny.

“Who was that woman, do you know her well?” asked Destiny.

“Her name is Iris. Isn’t she a stunner? She is so tall and regal!” Tina reported with her light blue eyes shining in the rays of the morning sun.

“Yes, she certainly is, though a bit older than I would expect to see here. It’s a bit off-putting.”

“Well, one never knows…her dilemma is one many women experience who have found themselves pregnant at a time in their lives that isn’t suitable for various reasons. How are you feeling?” Tina inquired, changing the topic of discussion.

“Oh, I am fine. I am always fine. Do not worry about me, Tina. Did you hear that terrible scream last evening? I jumped out of my skin!” Destiny said, widening her brown eyes.

“Oh, yes! I certainly did! It was not the first scream I have heard here. Mind you, I have been here for many months and have seen many girls come and go,” Tina explained, as if to remind Destiny what she had said the day before.

“Well, is that the common thing? To scream like an animal?” asked Destiny with surprise etched across her pale complexion.

“Yes, I am afraid it can be. I guess if labour starts without warning, one would be taken off-guard to its pain,” Tina offered. “I have been reading the books in the library here and they claim the pain is bearable if taught how to breathe correctly. The attendant named Mary is working with me now to ensure I know how to command my breath during my labour.”

“Well, another good-to-know fact. I have my first exam this morning with Dr. Ellsworth, so better push off. Do you have any insight to share with me about pelvic exams?” asked Destiny.

“Have you not had one?” Tina countered, sounding surprised.

“No, but it cannot be all that bad, right?” Destiny asked, expecting to hear Tina say, “No.”

“Well, I have been getting them regularly during my stay here. But if it’s your first one…well, just try to relax.” Tina placed her hands on Destiny’s shoulders, pressing down to adjust their stressful stance.

“Thanks, Tina. I will try…chat later.” Destiny rose from the couch, which took a bit more effort than usual. She waved her hand to Tina as she rounded the corner to walk down the long white hall for a second time.

Destiny entered the doctor’s office, sat in the chair facing the oak desk, and began her compulsive spiral eye-patterning to pass the time. The nurse appeared right on cue and Destiny held up the papers she’d filled out. They were placed directly on the desktop to politely wait their turn to be reviewed, and then the nurse vanished. When Destiny was finished with her second round of eye-tracing, Dr. Ellsworth bounced into the room.

“Hello, Destiny. How are you feeling today?” the doctor inquired, displaying a bit more compassion than the day before.

“Oh, I am fine. The papers are filled out. The nurse put them on your desk, there.” Destiny pointed to the small stack that lay inertly to await its discovery.

“Yes, I see. Thank you for getting these back to me so quickly. Many young ladies don’t complete their paperwork for days, even weeks.” Her long fingers grasped the papers that were ready to be thumbed through to reveal Destiny’s current circumstances.

“Now, I see here that you have not received any medical care whatsoever, is this correct?” asked the doctor while placing the papers on the opposite end of the desk.

“Yes. I have not been seen by anyone but the clinic technician who gave me the e.p.t. pregnancy test,” Destiny replied, and then twisted her position to relieve the twinge in her lower left groin area.

“Well, then, it is a good thing you have arrived a bit early so we can take a look at your status, and get your blood workup completed,” the doctor told Destiny with a look of concern. “I’ll go through your paperwork later. Right now, if you will please follow me to the examination room?” The doctor stood and motioned for Destiny to follow.

Once settled inside the exam room, Destiny felt a cold draft of air creep up the thin paper gown reaching the bare tissue exposed to the doctor. She was not modest; she never had a reason to be, but this foreign pose was certainly a challenge. She tried to hold her knees together for a slip of privacy, only to have the nurse instruct her to part them and scoot her bum to the edge of the table. Destiny obeyed, and then immediately felt like a slab of meat being butchered while still attached to its owner. “Ouch!” she yelped, without realizing the sound was her own.

“I am sorry, dear, but now I have to press on your tummy at the same time that I feel your uterus to determine how far along you are,” the doctor said, as she held most of one hand inside Destiny, and pushed her other firmly on the incumbent belly that had been neglected until this moment.

Destiny bit down on her lower lip to stifle another exclamation of discomfort. No wonder Tina didn’t want to tell me the truth about these exams! she thought, as she pushed back up to the middle of the exam table as instructed.

“You can get dressed now and meet me back in my office,” the doctor told Destiny.

“Okay,” Destiny managed to say as she jumped off the hard table. She waited for the doctor to exit before removing the gown now drenched with a gooey paste that reeked of fish-odor and blood.

Destiny appeared in front of the old oak desk to find the doctor’s attention consumed with the stack of papers that had patiently waited their turn. No words were spoken for a full two minutes, until the doctor tucked the papers inside a hard manila folder with a tab marked, “Lovelost, Destiny.” “Destiny, I am going to be frank with you; but first, I need to ask a few more questions. You wrote that you do not know the name of the father of your baby, correct?” asked Dr. Ellsworth.

“Yes, that is correct.” Destiny replied curtly, not wishing to divulge any information that didn’t need to be revealed.

“So, if you leave your baby with us to be put up for adoption, the father will not be opposed to the decision?” the doctor asked, trying to open Destiny’s vault.

“Yes, that is correct,” Destiny replied.

“And your parents, Destiny? Where do they live? You didn’t give any information listing them, or anyone to contact in case of an emergency,” the doctor asked tilting her head, displaying a hint of worry that deepened the lines in her forehead.

“My parents are no longer living. I live alone and have no relatives to contact. My new friend, Tina, who is staying here is the closest friend I have,” Destiny lied as if her tongue knew the familiar journey of deceit.

“I see,” the doctor said, “are you completely positive you’ll be giving your baby up for adoption, Destiny?”

“Yes,”Destiny said with a firmness the doctor could not challenge.

“All right, Destiny. When your baby is born, it will be taken directly to another facility where it will be taken care of until a suitable couple is matched for its adoption. There will be more paperwork for you to fill out. You should be delivering your baby within the next few weeks. In the meantime, you have developed a vaginal infection and you will need to use the medication I am going to prescribe. The directions are on the label, but if you have any questions just ask one of your attendants. Have you met any of the attendants?”

“No, I have not,” she replied.

“Well, all right, Destiny. I will check on you in five days to see how you are progressing. You seem to have your course of action established; but if you have any questions, please know I’ll be glad to answer them.” The doctor stood and offered a hug in a gesture of comfort, but Destiny quickly left the room to find the nearest lavatory.

Three

The sun was setting behind the barren cottonwood, throwing intermittent rays of light upon the book’s pages. At half-past six, Luana lifted her awareness from reading to her current environment near a private pond. Her home was nestled on a hillside along the California coastline. The sun signaled dim light turning to night and she lamented having to close her newest pastime to prepare a meal for one. Luckily, she realized there were leftovers from the previous evening that would ensure a limited time away from her new novel. Luana gently set the beaded marker tight at the inside spine. She placed the precious gem on her dining room table next to her iPhone, which had not summoned her in several days.

Living alone had its rewards for sure, but there were those days when Luana yearned for a bit of conversation, if only to use her vocal cords to clear her throat. She understood Destiny’s philosophy of independence, having her own streak of Capricorn individuality. Luana turned from the stove to admire the colorful artwork displayed on her new book’s cover, or was it a photograph?

Luana felt herself quite artistic, having dabbled in many of the creative arts as far back as the 1960s when she was a mere teen. Her rough paintings, completed in her early twenties, had kept her artistic juices flowing. In this same period of time, she’d learned to play the rote head games of follow-the-leader in college to massage her professors’ egos. Studying came easily to Luana, probably because she loved to read. All the rooms in her beach cottage were filled with the hundreds of recommended college texts stacked like sentinels attesting to her accomplishments. Since her retirement, she had learned to indulge in the pleasures of causal novels, and Finding Destiny was succeeding in gratifying her literary thirst. She settled in her chair to eat the small meal of reheated baked potato with a mound of crisp asparagus, when a gusty breeze flipped the book open to a page yet unread. Acknowledging a synchronistic gift when it presented itself, Luana began to read the paragraph that tempted her curiosity:

Journal—Aug. 1981: What the hell am I doing? I don’t even like this chap! Why must I always choose such wankers that cheat their way into my heart? I am twenty-three years old, where is the fellow who is supposed to be my soulmate everyone is raving about? Soulmate, what a crock! From now on, I am going to lay off gents altogether.

Aren’t I supposed to have real love in my life? Is there such a thing as real love? I see through all the happy marriages that find dark halls to play illicit games of lust and deceit, it turns my stomach like a bitter lemon drink. Never again will I allow a bloke to enter my private seclusion. Why did I drink so many pints? I think it must be poison to my brain. I can’t believe I allowed myself to get so wrapped up with a chap like that. I don’t even know his full name! I pray he stays away from me when I don’t show up at the pub tomorrow. Maybe I won’t go back, ever…

Luana quickly closed the temptress, not wanting to unjustly form a new tale in her mind before the plot rightfully unfolds. While eating her dinner, she thought back to her own youth, admitting to herself that she was still a virgin in the early 1970s when she was twenty-six. What was it that kept her from experimenting sexually while all her college friends were casually sharing joints and giving blowjobs? What held her back from a firsthand experience of pursuing the Sixties in all its Beatlemania and sexual revolution? Even now, with her unspoken questions lingering in midair, Luana’s face reacted with its usual flush that stained her cheeks in crimson patches of inhibition. Settling in her reading chair, complete with its own modern lamp to ensure her books were well-lit late into the night, Luana stretched the cover of her new book to reopen Destiny’s saga.

After returning from the lavatory, Destiny went to the lounge in search of Tina and found her sitting on the same couch, reading a book. “Tina! I would rather sit for tea with my parents than go through that again! I tried to relax, but it really hurt!” Destiny exclaimed, trying to muffle her remarks with her hand.

“Oh, Destiny…I am sorry it was hurtful for you. It does take a few of those exams to get used to the intrusion,” Tina agreed and closed her book. “What did the doctor tell you?”

“Well, the event will happen in a few weeks…and I have an infection down there. I have this cream I am supposed to use,” Destiny said, displaying the little white prescription bag. “I’m a bit fogged, so I better open this up to figure it out.”

“Just ask Mary, if you have questions. She is a spot-on attendant. Oh, Destiny, you will be having your baby about the same time as me!” Tina said with excitement.

“Tina…pleasezz don’t say it that way,” Destiny begged while looking down at her bulging middle. Trying not to sound hurtful, she explained, “This is not a baby to me. It is just something I need to deal with to get on with my life.”

“Oh, yea, I forgot. I am sorry. It is so difficult for me to think of anyone not wanting to keep their own baby. I shan’t bring it up again,” whispered Tina.

“Well, I will share…I was raped. I was a virgin and barely knew the bloke who was an older college student. The whole experience is a fuzzy blur that I do not want to remember. So, now you must understand,” Destiny said, revealing her secret to the first person to hear her tragic story.

“Oh, no! I am so sorry…I don’t know what else to say,” Tina offered and reached over her big belly to hug Destiny.

“I am fine. I am always fine. I have dealt with it, and cannot wait for this to be over,” Destiny reported. “I am going to go back to my room to check how this medication works. I hope it makes things feel better.”

“Okay, I will see you later at dinner then,” Tina said, trying to erase the image of her new friend being raped. Tina settled back into the soft pillows and closed her eyes to mentally rewind her own visions locked tight in her mind.

Tina had not shared her entire story with anyone. She felt there was some unwritten rule she had to follow about not causing disdain to her parents. Her story began to play in her mind like an old silent film, presenting actors on a screen whose mouths were moving without words to hear. She loved her parents. They had been the center of her young life, and certainly provided well for her. The love shared between the three was visible to all their relatives and friends, but little did those loved ones know of Tina’s family secrets.

Tina’s dad was old enough to be her grandfather. At fifty-nine years old, he was a distinguished Englishman with proper employment. He managed an establishment of character in the southwest borough of Cheltenham. He and Tina’s mum had experienced the Blitz of 1940. She had been a mere seventeen, and he was twenty-two years old when they first met. She was seriously injured while running down the stairs of the nearby bomb shelter. Her right leg had been severely damaged and was amputated above the knee. As Tina understood the story, the pair fell in love at the worst moment in their lives, and then became each other’s steadfast companion at a time when all of England thought the world would surely end.

Tina’s mum once revealed to her that she could not become pregnant, but a miracle happened. Tina was conceived as a menopausal baby. She knew there must be more to her mum’s story, but knew better than to pry into her parents’ privacy. Tina also kept the secret of her dad’s nightly drinking ritual that often found him passed out on the parlor floor. Her mum seemed to be unaware of her husband’s condition. She would retire early to her separate bedroom, leaving Tina the task of getting him to his. Many times, during these nights, her father would share his stories of lament with her.

His eyes filled with brandy-tears, he would confide with Tina that he had only been allowed to love her mother intimately but a few times. Barely a preteen, Tina would listen without completely understanding her father’s discussion. She continued to ask questions that eventually led to more explicit explanations, including a bit of intimacy between the two. After many close father-daughter chats, Tina found herself in her current condition and totally oblivious to its implications. When her mum discovered the pregnancy, Tina tried to explain the circumstances but her father denied any wrongdoing. This, of course, exacerbated the situation and in a hysterical rage, Tina’s mum told her to leave and never return.

How strange life is, Tina thought to herself. My situation is no worse or better than Destiny’s, yet we seem to be unwinding the same shreds of hope for a happy life. She will be without anyone to comfort her…and me? Well, I will have my dear sweet baby to ensure I will never be alone. Tina opened her eyes to see a burst of sunshine enveloping the far side of the garden spilling its warm colours upon the thirsty shrubbery. The summer had been the hottest ever experienced the Tele had declared, bringing with it a drought to England unseen before. The news chap also mentioned that Cheltenham had experienced one of the hottest days on record, at just over 96F degrees. Poor Mum and Dad, she thought. Just viewing the barren garden encouraged Tina to go find the water pitcher provided the residents. On her way to the dining room, she ran into Iris who was also searching for the pitcher.

“Hello, Iris,” Tina said, as she poured the clear liquid into a large glass.

“Hi, Tina. The doctor just told me I will need to be admitted to the hospital in a few days. I need to have a caesarean birth. You know where they cut through the belly and take the baby out,” Iris reported, as she crossed her belly with two fingers from left to right.

“Oh, no…I have only just learned about that procedure in the book I am reading. It sounds like you shan’t feel anything though, because they numb-up your belly good with an anaesthetic,” Tina said, trying to sound positive and knowledgeable.

“Yes, I am not worried about the pain. Though, I won’t be coming back here afterward. So, if I don’t see you, I hope your delivery is easy and your baby is healthy,” Iris said. She gave Tina a hug, as close as possible, with their two bellies in the way.

“Thank you, Iris. Will you give me your number before you go, so I can ring you up when I get out of here?” asked Tina.

“Okay. I will give it to you at breakfast,” Iris assured Tina, and then drank the remainder of her water. “I need to take a nap!”

The pair walked back to the bedroom wing and closed their separate oak doors to the outside world until suppertime.

Luana set her book upside down like a butterfly to rest on the arm of her overstuffed chair. She needed to take a moment to digest the material she had read. The words seemed to float in her mind like a spiral staircase searching to reach its conscious destination. I can’t even imagine how it would feel to carry a baby for nine months, knowing it was never to be held in your arms, she thought. Then, she remembered her internship in the late 1970s when she’d worked in a women’s medical clinic. She counseled women who needed to make the heart-wrenching decision of whether to terminate their pregnancy. She would counsel their fears and wipe their tears as they talked of the personal circumstances, which at the time forbade the possibility of their becoming a mother. She informed them of all the alternatives, and then waited and supported their ultimate resolution.