Sofia's Beauty: Cries From the Earth, Book 2

By Brenda Gates

Despite enduring abuse at the hands of her husband, Sofia refuses to leave him. Having grown up in poverty, she vows she will never be destitute again. Leaving her husband would mean losing her "perfect" life: her affluence, her twin daughters, and a suc

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenda Gates
• Release date: Oct 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781732560239

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sofia Johnson

September 7, 2001

Trouble

"Caramba! I did it again. Sofia slammed her fist on the steering wheel. Focus, girl! This way is fifteen minutes longer." She glanced in the rearview mirror. The freeway entrance was miles back and the headmaster was already perturbed.

Old habits die hard. She drove through the neighborhood that shaped her childhood, searching for faces long gone. Roger didn’t like her coming this way. He said she was a target for thieves and hoodlums in her BMW and expensive clothes. He was right. She checked the locks as she pulled up to the red light.

There it was. To the left, alongside the ancient library that now sat sorry and depressed, windows boarded over. There was Mama’s bench. Today, a straggly, bearded man slouched on its cold, metal slabs. She couldn’t see his eyes from here, but everyone else she’d known sleeping on that bench had eyes like vacant caverns, numbed by life and dead dreams.

A dirty pack slouched on the bench beside him. If he was like the others, all he couldn’t bear to part with was squirreled within. Remnants of another life.

How many times had Sofia or her brother, Chachi, come here, looking for their mother? They would walk her home, supporting her, half carrying her when she was cooperative, pleading and dragging her when she was not. Chachi found her that last time. Her purse was gone. Even her shoes were gone. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t theft once life was gone.

Sofia shed no tears that day. She’d been relieved. Her mama had left long before.

Popping a piece of gum from its foil and into her mouth, Sofia drummed her fingers on the wheel, willing the light to turn green. Benches in run-down parks, that’s where poverty led. The only way out was to do what Chachi did or marry wealth.

Trying to flee the Devil, they’d given him their soul.

Her daughters would have better choices.

A group of teen boys stood on the corner, eyeing her vehicle. Sofia gazed straight ahead. The light turned green, and she gunned it.

Mama was gone ten years now. Sofia needed to stop coming this way.

She crossed under the freeway, and within blocks the neighborhood graduated to manicured lawns, then to impressive homes with gated entries. She turned the corner, and there it was, St. Vitus, with its stately red brick and white stone facade. At the base of the tall Doric columns lay a pair of stone lions, three times the size of their living relatives. Marble roosters permanently raised their beaks to crow atop the pillars. A cross hung above the door, all emblems of the school’s long-ago history.

Sofia parked in front of the steps, glancing up at the building in front of her.

Yes, she murmured to the roosters carved in stone, Keep an eye on them lions. I might be up there hiding with you before today is over.

The lions hunched, unblinking. Uncaring. On to the lions within.

The headmaster wasn’t waiting at the door this time. Was that a good omen? Entering the main office, she gagged and wrinkled her nose.

Good gracious! What is that? Waving her hand in front of her face, she approached the secretary.

That is what we called you in about. The secretary stood, grim faced, at the door to the headmaster’s office. She motioned for Sofia to enter.

Inside, the Graham boy sat. Beside him, his irate mother. Sofia looked him over. No black eye or bloodied lip like the one he earned in his last encounter with Anna Marie. That was good. His bare legs stuck out from under a gym towel that wrapped around his waist. Pale skin could be glimpsed beneath an oversized rain jacket covering his torso.

A clear plastic trash bag lay on the floor, its contents smudged in liquid mud. Sofia again covered her nose, eying the bag suspiciously. Had Anna Marie pushed the boy into the septic system somehow? The toilet?

Georgie Graham didn’t look up as Sofia entered but groaned and buried his face deeper into his mother’s side.

You. Mrs. Graham made the simple word sound like a cuss word. This is your fault.

Sofia’s mind raced. What was going on? Anna Marie sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, lips tight, but her eyes shone victorious.

Adeline sat next to her twin, legs swinging, a twinge of a smirk playing with the corners of her mouth. She gave a tentative smile and waved as her mother approached.

What happened?

The headmaster sat behind his desk, a safe distance from both the children and parents, Sofia noted. He looked down at where his fingers lay interlocked with each other, resting on his desk.

George lost control of his bowels.

Oh. Relief swept over Sofia, replaced quickly with a new concern. How does this involve Anna Marie? Adeline? Are they ill as well?

Your daughter— Mrs. Graham’s shrill voice pierced the room.

The headmaster raised his hand to stop her.

It seems Anna Marie claims you are a witch and she inherited the same abilities. Abilities to place curses. George says she threatened him at lunch, that she said she hoped what he ate made him deathly sick.

Adeline stared down at her feet, masking a smile she was struggling to hold back. Anna Marie glared at George.

Sofia’s head was spinning. She laughed. This was too much. And you believed her?

The headmaster’s face reddened. Not exactly. It’s just that, well, many of the children heard the interaction, and not an hour passed before—before— He waved helplessly at the bag of discarded garments. Now they’re scared, and well, Mrs. Graham insists—

I don’t know how she did it, Mrs. Graham interrupted, wrapping a protective arm around her son. If eyes could shoot daggers, Sofia would look like St. Sebastian after he was shot full of arrows. But that child is evil, and someone has to deal with her.

This is absurd! She’s just seven years old and has never had trouble like this before. Not exactly. Sofia knew her argument would be more persuasive if this hadn’t been Anna Marie’s third visit to the headmaster’s office. George became ill. Anna couldn’t have caused this.

Mrs. Johnson, I’m sure you understand the situation I’m in. Threats of any kind cannot be tolerated, whether based on truth or not. We need you to take Anna Marie home. The district is arranging for a child psychologist to come in and meet with her, and with Adeline as well. Until that can be arranged, Anna Marie will be on suspension.

Sofia couldn’t believe her ears. Sir, she said, I can assure you that you have not heard the end of this. These—these—accusations. To even give them credence is beyond understanding. She strode to where her daughters sat, took each by the hand, then turned to leave. I will be contacting our attorney.

As will I. Mrs. Graham stood with such an abrupt movement, George nearly fell.

Tossing her hair, Sofia nodded to Mrs. Graham, the headmaster, and the secretary, then left the room. The clicking of her heels was the only sound down the marble hallway, the only sound as she reached the exit. Opening the heavy wood door, Sofia gulped in the fresh air. She glanced at the lions, their sinister snarls aimed toward the street. Huge, menacing beasts, the sight of them always filled her with a sense of dread. Letting go of her daughters’ hands, Sofia did the sign of the cross, grasped the girls’ hands once more, and began descending the stairs.

"What do you mean by saying such things, m’ija? Sofia pulled Anna Marie behind her as they rushed down the stone steps to the parked car. A witch? I’m a witch?"

I wanted him to be scared of me. The answer came soft but full of bitterness.

Well, it worked, and now we are both in trouble. What happened to him?

Anna Marie shrugged. I didn’t do nothing. Just scared him.

Anything. You didn’t do anything.

That’s what I said.

By now, they’d reached the shiny BMW. Anna’s small hands pulled open the door, and she and Adeline jumped into the back seat.

Didn’t do nothing. Didn’t do nothing, Sofia muttered, slamming the door behind her. You sound like my brother. You’re better than that. Speak like it.

Anna Marie’s eyes flew wide. The sisters glanced at each other and back to their mother. You have a brother?

Sofia groaned, starting up the engine. What possessed her to say that? I did. A long time ago. I don’t talk about him.

Why? Did he die? What happened to him?

Like I said, I don’t talk about him. She took a deep breath. Now, please tell me what in the world you were thinking, threatening the Graham boy like that?

He’s mean, Mommy. He likes to pick on Adeline.

Not just me. Adeline piped in.

But now that he’s scared of me, he won’t bother anyone anymore.

You mean he’s a bully. Sofia pulled out into the street.

Yes.

But aren’t you being a bully yourself by making him scared of you? Isn’t that what bullies do?

Anna Marie was silent for a long while. It doesn’t matter, she finally said, staring out the window, anger narrowing her eyes. I’m a bully because someone needs to stop him. Besides, it’s my job to take care of Adi. You said so.

Yes, but we must figure out a better way to do that, one where you won’t get into trouble all the time.

Hard to argue with her logic. Sofia almost smiled. But Roger was going to be furious. Why did it have to be Mr. Graham’s son? Mr. Graham had some of Roger’s biggest accounts. Now to figure out how to minimize the damage.

Then there was the issue of Anna’s persistent bad temper over the past few weeks. Something was bothering the girl. Something besides Georgie Graham.

Chapter 2

Thomas

April 1852

Birth

Thomas leaned over the writhing form of his young wife, hand on her bulging abdomen. Hush, my love. Try not to fight the contractions.

Nelly shoved him away from her. Stop looking at me, Thomas. Get out! Please! Leave me!

But— Brows knit together in concern, Thomas once more dipped the cloth in a mixture of warm water and Epsom salts, then applied the soothing solution to the red blisters covering her face.

Do not touch me. Get out! Her voice, even in distress, was lovely with its rich South Carolina accent.

Son. His mother’s hand fell lightly on his arm. She is getting more agitated. Let me.

But, Mother, I am a doctor.

Yes, and I was helping birth babies since before you were born. Wait outside.

Dropping his hands, Thomas gazed at his wife through tear-blurred eyes. This was the first time he’d seen his wife since the blisters had formed.

I am too ugly, she sobbed from the other side of her locked door every time he came to see her.

You could never be ugly to me, Thomas had answered.

Still, she only allowed the housekeeper and his mother to come to her room, administering the treatments Thomas recommended.

Even through the blur of tears, her angry red skin was impossible to ignore. It was the worst case of chickenpox Thomas had ever seen. Crusted red blisters covered her body, even beneath her silky blonde hair. One of her eyes was swollen shut. Her delicate lips, cracked and dry from the long hours of labor, were open in anguish, showing the rash inside her mouth.

Blinking hard, Thomas backed out of the room. Never had he been so afraid or felt so powerless. Running a hand through his thinning hair, he collapsed onto a chair and let the tears flow.

Father, help Nelly and the babe. Dear God, please keep the infant safe. What would happen to their child? Would the baby contract the chickenpox as well? Up until now, the pregnancy had gone well. His beautiful bride of a year had tolerated her months of confinement with remarkable ease, enjoying the visits of her doting friends and family.

Eight weeks before, the illness broke out in town, soon spreading to epidemic proportions. He thought she’d been spared, thought her confinement had prevented her exposure. Thomas stared down at his hands. Had he brought it home with him somehow? He knew he couldn’t catch it, having had chickenpox as a child, so he had gone from home to home treating the worst cases. For most, it was little more than an uncomfortable nuisance, mild enough that mothers from unaffected families would bring their children to visit those showing symptoms.

Best they catch it when they’re young! They whispered to each other.

Thomas nodded his agreement. It was the very young and the old who tended toward complications.

He shivered. The very young. You couldn’t get much younger than a newborn.

Hours passed, and he sat still as a statue with head in his hands, praying and listening to his wife’s cries and the soft comforting voice of his mother.

Nelly’s piercing scream rent the air, and Thomas leaped to his feet, running to the door. As he turned the knob, another cry filled the room, the angry cry of a healthy newborn. Throwing open the door, Thomas entered in time to see his mother place the pink form of an infant, arms flailing, into the reaching arms of his wife.

Turning to face her son, his mother wiped the sweat from her forehead and smiled. It’s a girl, Thomas. You have a daughter.

*

Thomas’s heart swelled with pride as he watched his baby girl suckle vigorously. Life was better than any of his wildest imaginings.

Dear, you really should not be here while the child feeds. It is not proper. Nelly glanced up, the sparkle in her eyes letting him know she was teasing.

She was so beautiful. Even with all the pox.

Then I shall be improper, for I cannot take my eyes from the two most beautiful women in the world.

A blush crossed Nelly’s tired face, and she reached with one hand to pull the bedclothes over her shoulder.

I am loath for you to see me this way, Thomas. Do you truly think I will heal without scarring dreadfully? If it were not for wee Millie, I would curl up and die for shame.

You will heal just fine. A few scars, perhaps, but you are healing rapidly. Even with a few scars, you will remain the most beautiful lady in the county. Thomas leaned over, pulling the sheet down so the fair head of his daughter was visible once more. Caressing the fine shimmer of blond hair, he grinned. You need to take care, however, as I do believe our daughter may grow to be even more beautiful than you.

He watched until his daughter’s mouth grew slack, a drop of milk visible at the corner of her red lips. At his caress, she sucked twice more, then gave way to sleep.

Look at her. She is perspiring. I do believe Mother has overdressed the child. Careful to not awaken her, Thomas lifted the baby from her mother’s arms, loosened the blanket, and paced the room.

I thought she was warm, but this is new to me. Would that be why she fussed so much more last night?

Brow furrowed, Thomas studied his sleeping baby. She tossed her head back and forth without opening her eyes and settled back to sleep. He loosened the blanket so the corners fell to the side, allowing her small chest to be visible. Placing his finger over her heart, he could feel the rise and fall as she breathed, a rapid pulse strong under his fingertips.

She is such a healthy thing. I am sure she is fine. She is eating well?

Too well. She seems to calm down only when she is nursing.

See? Nothing to worry about.

As if understanding her parents’ conversation and not wanting to be left out, Millie’s face scrunched into a grimace then turned red.

Oh, dear. Thomas held Millie out at arm’s length. Here. I will get a clean flannel so you can change her.

Life was good. Almost a week since delivery, his wife was recovering and his child was strong and healthy. Thomas headed out of the bedroom and called for the housemaid.

Mary! Mary! Nelly requires your assistance. Millie has soiled her flannels once again.

A cry from the bedroom told Thomas that his daughter was awake and unhappy.

Be right there, sir. The voice came from the kitchen downstairs.

He could hear cupboard drawers sliding open, then footsteps walking his direction. A moment later, Mary appeared with a pile of rags and a basin of water. Thomas insisted that the baby’s bottom be washed with each linen change and that each rag be cleaned thoroughly before reuse. Not all households were so careful, despite his scolding and teaching after each delivery. He was convinced the tender newborn skin did much better this way.

He followed the maid into the room and found Nelly sitting up in bed with a screaming Millie resting between her legs, the layers of clothes removed. When Nelly’s eyes met his, they were large and round. Her skin was washed of color.

What’s wrong? Thomas hurried to his wife’s side.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. There, on his daughter’s abdomen, were the telltale red blisters.

Chapter 3

Sofia Johnson

September 7, 2001

Secrets

Adeline, I need you to go to your room. Go ahead and work on the baby doll dress. I’ll be in shortly and teach you how to attach the sleeves. Sofia placed a restraining hand on Anna Marie’s shoulder. Meanwhile, I need to talk with your sister.

Anna’s eyes drooped, half hiding the sullen expression now equally manifested in the set of her mouth. Crossing her arms, she stood rigid.

"Que pasa, mi amor?" What’s wrong, my love? Sofia took her daughter’s chin in her hand and, with a gentle nudge, angled her face upward.

Anna looked away, avoiding her mother’s eyes.

Anna Maria, I need you to look at me. Sofia knelt in front of her daughter, nestling the child’s tiny face in her hands.

Moments passed before Anna met her gaze, then she looked away once more before speaking. Do you ever take your clothes off for your pictures?

Anna’s response hit Sofia like a punch in the gut. Talk about bullies. Talk about missing being home. But this question bore layers and layers of sinister shadows that made Sofia go cold at the core of her being. She pictured her own mother, beautiful even when half-conscious after a night of drugs and men.

Of course not, she said. That’s not the kind of magazine we have.

Their eyes met, Anna’s shimmering with tears and what looked like relief.

What happened?

Anna drew back, eyes wide. Daddy said not to tell you, that you would get mad and leave us.

The coldness spread to Sofia’s chest. She forced herself to remain calm.

Well, now you have me curious. She straightened her back. I insist you tell me. I won’t get mad at you, I promise. And I will never leave you. She grasped Anna’s chin tighter, anger bursting inside. Has your father touched you?

Anna squinted, confusion clear on her face. Sure, he holds my hand sometimes, and sometimes he hugs me. Why?

Just tell me what’s upsetting you. Tell me everything.

Remember that evening when I stayed with Daddy at the office?

Yes, I had to take Adeline to the rehearsal. I remember. The coldness was spreading through Sofia’s entire being.

Well, Daddy asked if I wanted to have my very own photo shoot. They said something about the other girl not showing up and I could take her place. I thought it would be like when you get pictures done, that I could dress up all pretty and wear makeup.

Go on.

Mia fixed my hair and put lipstick and blush on my face. I didn’t like it too much, though. I thought it made my lips look funny. Daddy said I was pretty.

Anna Marie grew quiet, her brown eyes brimming with tears.

That’s all. Nothing happened. Her voice was low, bitter.

Anna Marie, tell me everything.

I don’t want to. It’s embarrassing.

I’m your mother. Tell me anyway.

It’s just, Mia dressed me in this shiny robe, with nothing else underneath. She said they didn’t have clothes my size, so I would have to take the pictures just like that. Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. I was almost naked!

Is that so? Sofia had to fight to keep her voice neutral.

The rest of the story came out in a rush of words and tears. The photographer wanted me to sit and smile, but the lights hurt my eyes, and I was scared. He tried to pull my robe down, and I started crying. You always told me those parts are private, so I fought him. Was it wrong, Mama? It felt like I was being bad, but it couldn’t be if Daddy was there, right?

Anna Marie hesitated, lower lip trembling.

Sofia placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Go on. Then what happened?

Then Daddy got mad at the photographer and told him to leave me alone, and he got mad at me for crying. He hit me and said I was too young and not pretty enough. I kept crying and crying, and everyone was mad. Except Mia. She said it was good they stopped. They had plenty of other girls and didn’t need me.

Anna Marie was in her mother’s arms, tears flooding her face and wetting her mother’s top. Her mother patted her back, making shushing sounds. You are my good girl, Anna Marie. It was good they stopped. You didn’t do anything wrong.

Anna Marie pulled her head back, eyes pleading as she searched her mother’s face. You’re not mad at me? You won’t leave us like Daddy said?

"I’m not mad at you, mi preciosa. And I would never, ever leave you."

*

That’s it! Roger slammed the door open hard enough to rattle the glasses on the table. If you can’t control your daughter, I’m sending her to boarding school.

You wouldn’t dare. Sofia stood, rage simmering below her calm exterior, her eyes fixed on her husband’s face.

He turned toward her, disbelief clear in his expression.

You couldn’t possibly believe what George Junior claims, Sofia continued.

This was new territory for both of them. She never challenged him outright. She knew better. She’d suffered enough bruising with his loss of temper, even while trying not to provoke him.

He got sick and blamed our daughter. Georgie was reacting because he was embarrassed in front of his classmates. You should’ve smelled it. It stunk awful. But not as bad as other stenches around here.

His father is one of our biggest contributors. Roger’s face reddened. He stepped aside as if to move past Sofia. Where is she?

You leave her alone.

Roger halted mid-stride. Sofia had never spoken to him in that tone, never dared stand in his way. Eyes narrowing, he shoved her aside and pushed open the door to his daughters’ room. There the two sat, huddled together on the floor, baby dolls in hand.

"You leave my girls alone, you sin verguenza." Sofia forced control into her voice. She wanted to scream, to grab at this man that stood towering in front of her and tear the hair from his head. He could do what he liked to her, but she would not stand by while he hurt her girls. Neither could she let him know what Anna Marie told her. Not yet.

She needed to keep her cool. Make a plan. She would see him rot in jail. But she needed proof.

Roger’s face, now inches from Sofia’s, flushed. His breath smelled like liquor. Grabbing Sofia’s chin, he squeezed just a fraction too hard.

I spent the last two hours on the phone talking, persuading Mr. Graham not to remove his accounts from our firm. Don’t tell me she didn’t do anything. Anna Marie! Get out here!

You leave her alone. Sofia’s voice was steel.

The shove came from nowhere. Sudden. Hard. Sofia fell, sprawling across the hardwood floor, banging her shoulder on the lamp table. She glanced up at Roger, trying to scramble away as he came at her, his eyes reflecting a rage hotter than any she had seen before, rage matching her own.

A memory flashed unbidden, the neighbor’s body, bashed and bleeding, left to die in the stairwell outside Mama’s apartment. Everyone in the apartment complex knew the woman’s boyfriend beat her, yet no one spoke to the police when they arrived.

No! Looking around her for a candlestick, a metal bar, anything she could use to protect herself, she scurried backward on the floor, coming to an abrupt stop with her back against the wall. Panic rose. What had she done? Tonta! How dumb could she be? She couldn’t let him harm her. She needed to protect her girls.

I’m sorry! She raised her uninjured arm to cover her face. Please!

The big photo shoot was next week. He wouldn’t dare damage that public image. Her face must stay clear. But then, what would people say if she showed up bruised and battered? She lowered her hand, daring him.

He kicked her in the stomach. All her breath burst out of her.

Sorry? Roger leaned over her, his lips twisted in a snarl.

Before she could catch her breath, he kicked again.

I bet you’re sorry.

And again. Stomach. Chest. Legs. Sofia felt the light fading at the edges of her vision. Sepia. The room lost color, fading in and out. She felt somehow separate from her body. I’m antique.

A blow to the ribs flashed brilliant colors around her, bringing reality back with force. She gasped. Pain seared the air as it rushed into her lungs. Somewhere she heard children crying. She tried to get up. She had to get to her babies. The room darkened, lights fading, dull, bright, dull again and she slipped back to the floor. She wanted to throw up but couldn’t breathe.

Look at you. Roger stood over her as she lay curled against the wall, gasping. Just like your mother.

He smiled, licking his lips. "You’re lucky I need your pretty face, or you’d be out on the streets where you came from. And don’t think you can leave without my consent. Remember that prenup? And I’d keep the girls. Not a judge