Where Do I Belong?: A Novel

By Jayne Wallace

Ginna Aiken just wants to be loved. As a child, she receives little affection from her parents and begins building walls, finding happiness only in her books and in listening to music. At age thirteen, she attempts to take her life for the first time. As the victim of a broken family, Ginna must somehow move from childhood to adulthood, all while on a seemingly endless quest for inner peace.

It turns out that dealing with her dysfunctional family is not Ginnas only thorny challenge. After an attempted rape by a trusted family friend, Ginna discovers a bottle of tranquilizers in her mothers dresser drawer. She swallows what is left in the bottle and begins an addiction to prescription drugs that masks her pain, but clouds everythingincluding her judgment. Ginna just longs to sink her roots into a place where she finally feels like she belongs, but first she must somehow find the power to forgive.

Where Do I Belong? is a poignant and powerful tale about the acts of love, betrayal, and the devastation that accompany a broken childhood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Aug 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458200174

Jayne Wallace

Jayne Wallace is the founder of Psychic Sisters, a team of 15 clairvoyants working from her concession at Selfridges department store, London. Jayne has worked as a professional clairvoyant since the age of 17 and has a monthly column in Fate & Fortune.

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Contents

Chapter 1

The Beginning

Chapter II

The Middle

Chapter III

Another Beginning

Chapter 1

The Beginning

I HAVE BEEN SEARCHING ALL MY life for that special feeling you have when you are completely at peace and feel safe in your surroundings with people that you know love you unconditionally. My memories are a bit faded when it comes to my childhood. Unfortunately, I cannot remember very many good times as a little girl, but the not so good times are very clear to me. Is it because I had so few happy moments? I do not know, nor do I know why, but I continue to try to find out just where I belong, as my life, becomes shorter and shorter.

I was born in a small town in Connecticut to a twenty-year-old mother whose family were immigrants from Czechoslovakia and whose own mother did not speak a word of English. My father was from good stock as they say. He grew up along the coast of Rhode Island and had a special love for the water, lobster trapping and clamming.

I remember my father’s mother; she was from England originally, and had a British brogue and interesting little English habits that I came to love. She would always have high tea in the afternoon, complete with silver teapot and china cups and saucers. With this daily routine, we would also enjoy scones and shortbreads that she made.

Oh, how I looked forward to these comforting traditions. I suppose that started this search for where I belonged or where I was meant to be in this life. Sometimes I thought England might be the answer.

The two Grandmothers were complete opposites. My mother’s mom was so reserved in her mannerisms and facial expressions; I saw coldness in her eyes. They used to stare at me and made me feel quite inadequate and self-conscious. She never felt compelled to give me a hug or a kiss, but after all, I had been lead to believe I was unlovable. This woman gave birth to eight children and was left to raise them on her own after my grandfather died when my mother was only nine. Being the baby, my mother was ten years younger than her youngest sibling was. Fortunately, for my grandmother, her three older children were boys in their teens and old enough to go out and work. All three were driven and very smart. It was not long before all three brothers became millionaires. They bought my grandmother a beautiful house and provided her with whatever she needed until the day she died from complications of diabetes.

I was nine when we moved to Ft. Worth, Texas due to the relocation of my dad’s job. He worked for a large defense company that built fighter aircraft for the government. What a shock it was to move across the country to what my mother considered an uncivilized state. She always made sure to tell anyone that would listen that she was from Connecticut, not Texas. I grew up thinking the only place that had roaches and mosquitoes was Ft. Worth, Texas. I cannot believe I bought that story! You will discover just how naïve I was.

Every summer after we moved, we would drive across country to Connecticut to spend a week with my grandma and my mother’s brother Mike and his wife Aunt Olive along with my two cousins! I was so happy to have kids my age to play with on these trips. This happiness was short lived, however, when I overheard the older one tell the younger one, How much longer do we have to put up with the hick from Texas. It appeared I was an embarrassment to them. I had always chosen books over people and I may have been different or a little eccentric, but never a hick! I thought I was as good as they were; I was dressed as nice as they were and I was not too bad to look at, so, what was the problem? Was it only because I lived in Texas?

A year after we made the move my Sister was born, in Texas, and oh, how my mother hated the fact that my sister was a Texan. She tried to glaze over this fact by telling people that even though my sister was born in Texas, she had New England blood.

On the other hand, my father’s mother was kind, warm, and welcoming while my two cousins on that side of the family were a lot fun. My dad and his brother and his wife Mary, who also moved to Texas for his job, would gather at our house one Sunday for dinner, and then the next week we would go to my aunt and uncle’s house. When we got together, my cousins and I would listen to records, dance, and laugh until our sides hurt.

My mother was never happy with this arrangement, as she tended to believe we were far superior to my dad’s brother’s family. It caused a lot of tension in our house because my dad would not back down regarding the weekly Sunday dinners, he said, after all, this was the only family we had in Texas. Gran would always cook the meal and it would be something out of the norm that she had eaten as a child; such as a New England Boiled Dinner, homemade chicken and dumplings or lamb chops. Unbelievably, one of my favorites was liver and onions with mashed potatoes and gravy; yes everyone my age thought I was nuts to eat that stuff. After dinner on those Sundays my gran would tell my cousins and I a story from her childhood. That is when my love affair for England really began. I so enjoyed that time with her. My gran was the only person I can think of that gave me the peaceful serenity and unconditional love that I so longed for. We were soul mates! She lived six months with us and the other six months with my aunt and uncle.

Thinking back on those circumstances, she was very flexible to be uprooted every six months. You see, when she lost my grandfather, who was a physician in Rhode Island, she went through all the money he had left her along with the house. The house was a typical Cape Cod, rambling house on the beach with cedar shakes and I loved it. Even after she lost her house, we would continue to talk about it for years with such fond memories. She must have felt as I have felt a few times, as if she lost a part of herself; like losing the roots she had so firmly planted. She never let on how that part of her life affected her.

My gran taught me to play solitaire, which came in handy many a long, lonely night. When I think of her, I realize what a special bond we had and how many times she gave me something to look forward to.

I want to introduce my two brothers, Edward and John. They were born to my dad and his first wife who died in childbirth when John was born. I was never told that my brothers had a different mother.

My Father was left to raise these two little boys and when he met my mom, he thought he had found a good mother for them. Sadly, that was not the case. For some reason my mother never wanted me to know that they were not her sons. I always thought they were my full blood brothers and we all had the same mother and father. My mother did not want the boys around, which I found very strange, so she talked my father into sending them to live with my grandmother in Providence. You know, I could never understand my mother’s attitude towards Edward and John. I remember thinking, how could a mother not want her own children around her.

Before I go any further, I must tell you, my mother was very persuasive! When she wanted something, anything, she made sure she got it. For so many years, I blamed my mother for many things that happened in our lives, but I now believe she was a product of her own mother’s dysfunction. At no time did I ever receive a hug, or praise, not even a kiss goodnight. Now my father was different; he grew up in a loving house and when he could get away with giving me attention, he did, and I took whatever crumbs I could get. When my sister was born, it seemed I got even less of the love I craved. It was then I began building my walls and became an introvert. Books became my best friends and the radio was my constant companion.

Also, following my sister Anne’s birth, it became clear that I was to be her caretaker. Whatever life I thought I would have was gone until the day I left home for college. Any free time away from school during the week and on weekends was spent entertaining my sister. We did whatever she wanted to do whether it was playing Barbie’s for hours on end or walking to the park for ice cream or playing in her elaborate playhouse in the back yard. Her playhouse was pretty cool with all the appliances made to fit and playing high tea actually was kind of fun. Or, playing super market with the little play cash register. I was thirteen years old and acting like seven. These were things I was never allowed to do at her age. After a while these play times became part of me because my mom did not want me to have friends over because they would disrupt the house.

Therefore, I was my own best friend and I would always spend my allowance on books that I read repeatedly.

Anyway, back to my brothers, just so you will know what happened to them and how they played such an important role in who I am today. After spending most of their childhood with my grandmother, Gran, my father somehow convinced my mother to let them come live with us when they started High School. I fell in love with them and followed them around until I guess I became a pest. They were so good to me and seemed to understand me and I think felt a bit sorry for me. They knew what my mother was capable of, and in a way, they tried to protect me.

In the summer of 1955, our family went to visit my gran in Rhode Island. While there, my father and