Saturday, May 30, 2009

Maynely a Mystery: chapter one, page twenty-three

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As Olivia socialized, she overheard other conversations. She heard whispers. Who was Olivia? Why was she here? Who was her father? Their curiosity probed, Olivia felt their icy stares. They viewed her as ignobly born or worse. Love child. Bastard. They thought she couldn't hear them but she did.

Some -- a few -- spoke up in defense of her birthright. But they spoke quietly so as not to be ostracized by the others.

If Grandma Esther had been alive none of this would have been tolerated. She would have stood beside me. Icy stares would have been returned in measure -- wagging tongues silenced.

Grandma Esther would have loudly said, "This is Olivia. She is my granddaughter."

A statement of fact. A challenge.

Grandma Esther was so sure of my place in the world, so sure that I belonged. ...But without her strength and support without her...I am alone.


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