The Illuminated Journey

By Sarah Elizabeth Jones

This book describes the challenge of a
child’s survival after her mother’s death
and the loving people who mentored her
and cared for her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823015462

Sarah Elizabeth Jones

The author is a retired school teacher who is active in volunteer work in her community. She has published a children’s book and is working on another.

Book preview

© 2023 Sarah Elizabeth Jones. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   06/10/2024

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1545-5 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1544-8 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1546-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023918809

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1   The Early Years, And The Struggle For Custody

Chapter 2   Learning Good And Evil

Chapter 3   Choosing Sides And Finding Allies

Chapter 4   Strategic Escapes

Chapter 5   Friends In The Church

Chapter 6   A New Family

Chapter 7   High School Choices

Chapter 8   Love, Marriage, And Mystery

Epilogue

PROLOGUE

No one asks to be born. Our birth cannot be dismissed as an act of human nature. It is an act of God. Even the fact of in vitro fertilization cannot be deemed as a willful event between doctor and patient. It is a willful event of God.

As we go through life, we all have times when we ask ourselves Why was I born? And God answers, You have a destiny. Examine your life.

As a child, when asked to complete a chore that I didn’t want to do, I would complain, Why was I born?

For many years of my life, since the age of twelve, I had no memory of my childhood. Other people would talk about events of their childhood, but I could not recall my own childhood years.

As I grew into adolescence and adulthood, I had no sense of identity. I observed others around me, and pondered events and circumstances, drew conclusions, but it all seemed as if I were an outsider looking in on life.

I worked hard in school, graduated, found a job, went to college, married and had children, but it was as if I were experiencing life in a bubble.

Then one day, the bubble popped. My childhood memories came, and I was forced to face myself, and who I really was.

This is the story of my life. It is really God’s story, for it was He who began it, and led me through it.

All names and places have been fictionalized. Any resemblance to actual persons or places is purely coincidental.

DESIREE

to await from the stars>

A Poem from God

1edited.jpg

Out of My Love

I have desired you,

And willed you to be born.

            I have desired your heart,

            And placed My Love within it.

            I have desired your soul,

            And filled you with My essence and My gifts.

            I have desired your Spirit,

            And filled it with the Holiness of Mine.

            I have desired your mind,

            And filled its will to choose,

            Among the darkness and the light,

            The things that are eternal…

                        The Love, the beauty, and the goodness,

                        In the world that I created.

Out of My love

I have desired you,

And willed you to be born.

To seek Me as I seek you.

To desire My Love, As I desire yours.

I AM your destiny.                                                    November 12, 2013

Blessed are you, forever.

Gen. 1; Jer. 29:13; Matt.22:37-40

Copyright 1994 AMM Enterprises

SONG OF HELEN

I’m beginning to know you,

To understand how you feel.

You were created

From a playful child of five,

Yet given powers

Greatly beyond your years.

You were created by God

As a Helen of Troy,

With strength to face

        The demons, the atrocities,

        In a sea of death.

A child-and-woman,

Sent to be our own guardian angel.

        You blinded us,

        And deafened us,

        And numbed us

        To the madness all around us.

I know you guard us still.

Now I know

I am who I am,

A child of God,

His own creation.

I feel your pain, and

I honor your strength,

My dear Helen.

Let me, with God and Christ,

Enfold you, adorn you with our love.

You are my angel heroine.

C 1994 AMM Enterpises

CORPUS CHRISTI

I was born in the city of an ancient King,

Gently nestled in the arms of the sea.

The Body of Christ it has been called.

In blood and pain they baptized me,

And splintered my child’s mind.

They ruptured my child’s heart

And stabbed with evil my child’s thoughts.

My child’s body, ripped apart.

But I was God’s own child,

God’s own creation,

Holding fast to a light within.

My own body,

A child’s body of Christ.

They could not touch my spirit.

CHAPTER 1

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The Early Years, And

The Struggle For Custody

A mong my earliest childhood memories, there is a faint, yet persistent memory of being an infant/toddler in my mother’s arms, in a house surrounded by beautiful foliage and flowers. There are other people around, including my father, who has arranged time from his military duties to be with me and my mother, Margaret. This was 1943.

In the memory, I am shown a small cluster of pastel-colored flowers. I look at them all, and I touch the pale yellow one, perhaps a carnation or a rose. Then I am shown a cluster of flowers in different hues and tones of yellow, and I touch the brightest yellow one. Following this, I am shown a cluster of flowers in different bright colors, and I touch the bright red one. Thus it was that I had my first lesson in colors, while in my mother’s arms.

How and where I had spent my earliest years is not clear in my memory. The location of the flower garden just described was probably in England. My mother was English, not American. In subsequent memories, my mother and I resided in Corpus Christi, Texas, during World War II. This residence I now know was a public housing facility called Navarro Place. It was a strange set of circumstances. In those days, my mother wore a red wig when out in public. But she was really a blonde, with long hair.

I later learned that she had met my father in England, when he was visiting a hospital. My mother was a Red Cross nurse, and when she spoke with my father while attending a patient, she fell in love with him. My father was about to be divorced. His marriage had suffered because he had spent little time at home, due to the war effort. As my mother and he conversed, my father found her attractive. She was a compassionate, loving person, and they soon had an affair. She so admired my father’s vision for a world at peace.

My father held a high office in the United States Army, and soon found himself working with military officers at a large naval base in Corpus Christi. There were strategies being planned for the landing of American soldiers in Europe. My mother followed him there to be near him. She wanted to have his child. I was born in surrogacy, through intra-uterine conception. That is, my mother’s eggs were to be fertilized with my father’s sperm. A prominent family in Corpus Christi had a daughter named Beatrice De Leon. This De Leon family had ties to many military officers. Beatrice had agreed to carry the child and give birth. A large sum of money was paid by my parents for this.

But Beatrice decided to betray my mother. She used her own eggs for the fertilization process with my father’s sperm. Perhaps she thought she would have the upper hand over my father. My mother and father had planned a scenario which would be a temporary arrangement for their family life until my father’s divorce was filed and adjudicated. My mother arranged for my baptism. Beatrice was free to have her own life. She would drop me off at my mother’s residence daily. Thus it was that my mother Margaret cared for me every day. She held me, fed me, and took me out to be with other children. I recall the cooking smells from her kitchen, including home-made scones. She liked to cook.

I recall my mother holding me on her lap by a window, and reading the Alphabet letters, in different colors, and asking me to repeat them. There were books with numbers, and I was also learning to count.

We took many picnics by the sea.

My father took time from his duties for my Christening day. I recall sitting between them and a photograph being taken. This picture, along with all the others of my parents, was destroyed after the war.

When my father visited, he arrived in the evening. I recall that he dyed his hair blonde for these visits. His hair was actually salt and pepper gray. Sometimes, after we dined out together we would sit together and listen to piano music. I think it is this memory that instills in me the love of the piano.

Their friend, Simon, would care for me so they could be alone together.

My mother was tall, and had blue eyes that sparkled. She was extroverted and gregarious, and was a very loving person. She was a devout Christian.

We mingled among the neighbors regularly at the playgrounds, and the neighbors came to know and enjoy my mother’s companionship. The community was a low socio-economic housing project comprised mostly of Hispanics. There is a memory of attending a birthday party in the home of one of these families, and Beatrice and her children were invited. When Margaret had learned of this, she bought me an outfit of clothes for the occasion, though she herself was unable to attend. Beatrice’s oldest child, Melinda, resented my intrusion into her family’s life. Beatrice herself was also resentful of having to deal with the whole situation. Yet my father had paid a great sum of money to the De Leon family for this temporary arrangement.

There was bullying and ugly words spoken to me by Melinda, with Beatrice’s consent. I was left out of the games they played. A mother of one of the other children finally spoke to Beatrice, reprimanding her.

-I don’t know how you treat children in your family, but in this house, all the children are treated equally. She motioned to me to come to join the games.

The persecution and rejection would increase, after the loss of my mother during my father’s deployment to China.

It was my mother who first taught me to pray, kneeling at bedtime, though I was too young to understand the words. Margaret was a woman of great Faith, as was my father. On the few week-ends that my father visited during this time, I would find myself lying in bed between them being kissed and hugged by them both. I remember the black book they would bring to bed and read together. It was the Bible.

This had only been meant to be a temporary arrangement until the war was over. Yet I remember this home with love. Because love formed the essence of the home, despite my father’s extended absences.

I remember their trying to explain our situation.

-Beatrice and Felipe are your ‘pretend’ parents. But we are you ’real’ parents. We are your real mother and father.

I don’t know how much I understood, but I accepted this, and in my heart I knew they were my parents because they loved me.

I recall my father playing hide and seek with me. He would get on his knees, one of which had a metal insert, due to an injury, and I delighted in this game. I would later play this with my own children.

How much time I spent with my mother in Navarro Place is not clear. There were times when she was away. My parents were both involved in undercover work.

The De Leon family was powerful. Their home was the main brothel house in the Red Light District. But it was also used for information gathering luncheons by prominent military leaders. This city was also involved in many clandestine activities, some of which involved genetic experimentation.

I recall my father and mother having a loud argument. Somehow my mother had spoken to the wrong person, and their undercover work had been exposed. It was discovered that there was another man posing as my father and this had complicated everything. At this point my mother became frustrated and announced she would return to England. This left me in my father’s care.

He made a decision to set up headquarters next door to the De Leon residence. This is because it was the focal point for meetings of military generals over dinner to discuss plans and strategy. Often, some of them stayed overnight to sleep with the De Leon women.

In my last days with my father, between the ages of 3 ½ and 4 ½, after the war had ended, I was assigned a daily chore by my father. I would arrange the flowers in the vases. As he began to teach me how to arrange them, he talked to me about the important things in life. He talked about God, and everything God had created. He talked about praying to God, which is like a conversation with God. If there was something I wondered about, or didn’t understand, I could ask God. I could also ask God to think with me.

My father would take designated breaks from his work day to teach me a lesson about God. He began with Genesis 1. He talked about the people of Israel, who believed in an invisible God who was our Great Creator. He described all of God’s creation—the trees, the birds, the heavens, the moon and the stars, the sun. God created night and day. Finally, he pulled out a mirror, held it before me, and said and God created you, and God created me.

Later, there were lessons concerning the power of God. He took me to the sea, and as we watched the waves, the water that seemed endless, and he said, No human could create this. One night, during a storm, we saw thunder and lightning, and my father said, this is God’s power.

One morning, my father challenged me to pray, and talk, and think with God. In the outdoor area where I usually played alone, he challenged me to find something that I thought was wrong, or a problem that needed to be fixed. He said I should be still and quiet and observe the area all around me. And if I found something wrong, or something I didn’t like, I would ask God to help me think about how it could be fixed.

I went out and began to look around. I noticed some ants on the ground. The small ants were harmless, but the large ants could bite. I wondered why the cat chased the grasshopper. When I returned home, my father sat me on his lap and asked what I had found. I described my findings, and he showed great delight, and hugged me tenderly.

During quiet moments, my father began to teach me how to listen to God. Whenever I prayed about something, he said, I must be very still, and listen for God’s answer. This would help me throughout my life, whenever I had a problem I couldn’t solve.

The military had temporarily taken over a Mormon Church rectory for its operations. My father’s temporary living quarters were in the house adjacent to the De Leon residence, near this church. This street was in the Red Light district.

My mother had taught me letters and numbers. She had also taught me bedtime prayers. My father continued what my mother had begun. I was given a small book with pictures. During his breaks, my father began to teach me how to sound out the words and read phonetically. When I came to a word I didn’t understand, I was to underline it. When my father took a break, he would help me to sound it out or just learn the word by memory. He would give me other examples of words like it.

In my enthusiasm, I read more and more avidly. Soon I was given more books to read, and this became my main preoccupation. I learned to read very quickly.

I remember sitting on my father’s lap and counting the stars on his uniform. Then I counted each point of the star. Now, I began to count everything I saw. I counted the flowers on the vases. I counted the books on the shelf. One day I was outside, and began to count how many blades were in the grass. I did this until I encountered a grasshopper, which I tried to catch, but couldn’t.

There were many games my father and I played. One was the daisy game. My father put me on his lap and began to pull off the petals from the daisy, one at a time. As he pulled off each one, he would alternate what he said. For the first petal, he said, she loves me. For the next one, he said she loves me not. When he said this, I would become sad. If the game ended with she loves me not, I would be close to tears, but my father would say, Oh, I didn’t see this one…’she loves me!’ I was delighted and hugged his neck. I saw nothing but love and delight in his eyes.

One morning my father informed me that he was going to assign me a new chore.

-Well, just like I have a job to do, you will have a job to do, and I will pay you.

I was excited that I was going to have my first job. He brought out a vase, and a bouquet of flowers from the outdoor garden. He then brought out a pair of scissors, and began to teach me how to cut the stems. As he cut each one, he placed it in the vase.

At first I was delighted at my new job. He watched as I cut and placed each flower in the vase, offering suggestions as I went along. He described flowers as being among the most beautiful of God’s creations. When it was finished, I felt very proud of my accomplishment. Then he took me to the kitchen, drew a chair by the sink, and had me fill the vase with water. Each day, I was to cut the stems, arrange the flowers, and fill the vase with water. My reward was a penny. He advised me to put it in a small bank and save it.

-It is good to save your pennies. Then, one day you will have enough money to buy yourself something you want of your very own.

For a few days, I faithfully carried out my new job. But then, one day I tired of it, and refused to do this any longer. When my father noticed this, he came to my room where I was reading, and asked,

-Where is the fresh water for the flowers?

-I don’t want to do it anymore, I replied.

-"Well, what do you think would happen if the whole world refused to work anymore? What if the farmers refused to grow vegetables? Or cotton? Or raise cattle? What would we eat? Would we have bread, or vegetables, or fruit, or meat? Would we have clothes to wear?

-And if I had no job I wouldn’t be able to buy you food, or clothes, or books, he continued. We all have to do our jobs, and we help each other and provide for each other. God wants us to work, and help each other live.

Begrudgingly, I set about my daily task each morning. Once it was over, I could play and read.

Every morning, we had breakfast outside, facing the garden behind the big house next door. When we had finished breakfast, my father would take me into his arms and walk to the gazebo filled with trellises of roses, and let me pick out a single rose for the vase on his work desk. I would examine each one as he walked around the gazebo. I would smell each one, and then choose one. He would then cut it and we would walk back to his office. This is how we began each day.

One day, at lunch time, I refused to eat the bread. I complained that it was dry and stale. My father responded that food is not something to be taken for granted. He stated that we were fortunate to have this bread, as there were many people in the world who had no food to eat.

-I will leave this bread on the plate, and when you get hungry, you can eat it.

Hours passed, and I refused to eat it. Then, when evening meal time came, I still refused to eat the bread. My father was somewhat surprised at how long my stubbornness was lasting. It was as if I were fasting. He tried to reason with me.

-Eating this bread will nourish your body.

I still refused to eat it. My father was becoming concerned. This continued the next morning, and into noon the next day. Finally, my father put me on his lap and offered a compromise.

-I will eat half of it, if you will eat half of it. he said, as he began to cut it in half. He ate half of it. Then I ate half of it. Then we ate lunch together.

The next day, my father took some time before he began his work day to discourse on the events of the previous days.

-I am surprised at how stubborn you are. But I’m going to teach you how to use your stubbornness for good, not for bad. I’m going to teach you how to use your stubbornness for God, and to do good things with it. And that will please God.

He began to recall stories of heroes that had been stubborn like me. These people had defended good causes that had helped humanity. He said that he himself had been a stubborn child, and this had caused him many problems. But then he had learned how to use it for good, for the benefit of others. He ended with a description of Christ. Christ had suffered greatly, and had stubbornly stood up for God, and God’s Word. And then, after His death, the miracle of the resurrection happened, which we remember today.

He challenged me to think of examples of how I could be stubborn to make something good come out of it. He instructed me to come back with some thoughts, at our next meal time.

I pondered on this for hours. Because I was under my father’s care, I no longer had interaction with other children, as I had before my mother had left. I began to recall the days that I played with other children, and how some children had been mean to others.

-What could you have done with your stubbornness?

-I could stand up for the child being badly treated. My father had wanted me to conclude for myself what I should have done.

-So what will you do the next time someone behaves that way? he asked.

-I will stubbornly stand up for someone treated wrongly, I answered.

-If you can always remember this, you will make me very proud of you.

And so it went. Day after day, there were lessons to be learned, in the care of a tender, loving father.

Often, when my father would gaze at me as he held me in his lap, he would speak of my mother, Margaret. I can remember him touching my hair softly, and saying that my hair was fine and soft, like Margaret’s. He would remind me of my mother.

-You’re Little Margaret, and your mother is Big Margaret", he said.

My father was still very much in love with her.

Bathing and washing my hair at night became increasingly difficult, as my hair was curly and long. It had never been cut. I cried when my father tried to brush the tangles out of my hair. It became such an ordeal that my father decided to cut my hair.

On the day this was done, he saved my hair. I would repeat this when I married. I gave my son his first haircut, and saved his hair. Later, when my daughter had her hair cut, I saved her hair in a bag. My children’s hair became my treasures.

On the day he cut my hair, my father had a photographer take my picture. He then placed my picture on his desk. I had fallen, and had lost one of my teeth. The picture showed my missing tooth.

Upon my father’s final departure, it was this same picture that he placed on the fireplace mantle of the De Leon residence. It was his final action in forcing this family to prominently display the picture of the little girl they had disdained and rejected as inferior.

Each night my father read to me until I fell asleep. If I awoke in the night, I would come down the stairs to find him reading the Bible. It was his daily habit to begin and end each day with Bible reading, in solitude.

The love of my parents, and the faith instilled in me by them, were the factors that gave me a head start in life.

In those last days with my father, his hectic meeting schedule caused him to enlist the help of a young boy, the youngest son of the De Leon family. This family was privy to much information as a result of all the gatherings of the generals and officers from the Naval Base there, and from other officers from abroad and South America. One day my father took a break to speak with this young boy. He gently picked him up and put him on his lap, and asked him to count the stars on his uniform. He conversed with him and asked him questions. The boy was surprised at his gentle, loving attitude. He was not accustomed to being treated so kindly. The boy was called Junior, after the father of the family, Jose Angel De Leon, who was now deceased.

-How would you like to earn some money? Could you watch over my daughter and play with her in the afternoons? he asked.

Junior was delighted with this, and thus became my afternoon baby sitter. He was about 8 or 9 years of age.

I was becoming more active and curious, and I had begun to climb onto things, including the kitchen counters. I looked into cabinets, frequently falling and breaking things. Junior and I now became playmates.

One day, my father picked him up and sat him on his lap. He asked him if he would like to be adopted. Junior was astonished at the question, but seemed to like the idea. He had become responsive to my father’s tender, gentle care. My father asked him to keep this in confidence.

Soon thereafter, a big machine was brought into my playroom. What is this? I asked. My father made adjustments and connected it. Watch, he said, and left the room, staying nearby to watch my reaction. I sat on the floor and watched a man begin to talk.

He’s talking to me! I exclaimed. He’s talking to me, because I’m the only one in this room! I ran out of the room to encounter my father laughing. He delighted in the things that I said. The machine was a prototype of what was to come to our nation—the television.

The clandestine relationship between my father and my mother had been created due to the active role my father played when he was appointed to join the military officials of the Army. Due to the fact that my father was still legally married and in the process of getting a divorce, he had to keep his life with my mother a secret. There could be no scandals reported in the newspapers. My mother had wanted to have his child. Thus, my birth had to be kept out of public knowledge.

Soon it was Easter. I was dressed in a white eyelet dress, new shoes, and a hat and purse. Beatrice held my hand, while Enrique, her son, walked alongside. As we walked along the narrow, cobbled, brick pathway, there were shops to the left, and to the right. It had just rained, and I could see the rainbow of colors that were left by cars parked along the road, caused by gasoline leaks. The rain had washed the streets clean, freshened the air. It was quiet and peaceful.

Suddenly, I heard music. It was Nat King Cole, singing Mona Lisa. I looked at the sky, wondering where the sound was coming from. It filled the air, and I was touched by the sound of the soft, gentle voice that was singing. The De Leon family often shouted and yelled at each other. This voice was soft and gentle, like my father’s.

Around the corner, waiting for me, was my mother. She had flown in for a visit. Beatrice quickly handed me over to her, and left. I was happy to see my mother.

One afternoon, a picnic had been planned by Beatrice and Felipe, but rain caused it to be cancelled. Felipe then decided to have an indoor picnic. He set a tablecloth on the concrete floor, and brought out an array of exotic foods. Cheeses, sausages, breads, caviar, capers—all sorts of food that was unfamiliar to me.

Felipe spoke English with an Italian accent, and added many a’s to the end of words. He also spoke Spanish. He loved Beatrice, but she felt nothing for him. She thought him beneath her because he was not as educated as she. I felt more compassion for him than I did for anyone in the De Leon family.

One evening, Felipe became drunk and was raging and shouting at Beatrice. He was carrying a gun and pointing it at her. People gathered at their window, and he began to shout at them. The police arrived and tried to reason with him. Soon, a doctor entered through the back door, accompanied by other men, who forced him to the floor while the doctor injected him with medicine. In minutes he fell asleep and was carried away. Later he was put in a mental institution, which left Beatrice free. She had resented him from the start.

My father had been called to the White House, and he decided to bring me with him. When he walked into the Oval Office, I was on his shoulders, as he and the President began to speak. I then began to stand on my father’s shoulders, and soon tried to step on the President’s shoulders, and then tried to step on his head. Both began to laugh.

The De Leon family entertained often and lavishly. There were crystal chandeliers in the dining room, with French doors opening into a large kitchen, where lavish food would be prepared. A large cellar in the basement stored many fine wines. Shipments of flowers and special foods arrived on a daily basis.

Once, while Junior and I were playing, my father called us both into his office. There was a meeting of military officers at the De Leon residence next door. He suggested that we pretend we wanted to help, by serving at the table. He suggested we ask to carry the trays from the kitchen to the table. My father wanted us to listen for the officers’ names, and then report these names back to him.

I was tall for my age, and so when I asked the Lamas women if I could help serve, they initially declined, saying I was too young. Junior intervened and said that he thought I could do it. The tray of hors d’oeuvres was easy, but the tray of wine glasses proved more difficult, so Junior carried it. After the dinner was over we reported the names to my father, and he wrote them down.

There was a huge garden with a gazebo behind the De Leon residence, and orchards lay all around the back and side yards. There were avocados, tangerines, lemons, figs, persimmons, bananas, and pecans. When we had breakfast, my father and I would sit outside, facing this beautiful garden.

The De Leon family preferred the Navy to the Army. They merely tolerated my father’s presence. The Navy held the power in this town.

Once, when I tried to enter the De Leon residence by the front door, the De Leon women refused to let me in. Because I had been born before my father’s divorce, they considered me an illegitimate child. Instead, they advised me to enter by the back door. When I related this incident to my father, he became angry.

Soon thereafter, on the occasion of a dinner given by the De Leon family for the military officers, my father and I entered through the back door. My father wanted the full attention of all of the De Leon women.

-Though my daughter is ‘illegitimate’, as you have pointed out to her, she is equal to all the children in this house. From now on, she will enter through the front door.

He then instructed me to go out, and enter through the front door. He instructed the De Leon women to go to the door, and greet me with respect. He then ordered a chair to be put next to his seat, and informed them that I would be a guest at the table, along with all the other guests. The De Leon family condescended to my father’s wishes. But they did not like taking orders from my father.

The De Leon family and their associates had a skewed system of values. They were atheists, and ran a brothel. They committed crimes against humanity on a daily basis. Their lives centered on deceit. They beat and abused their own children. They valued sex, power and wealth above all else. Yet, they had adopted some of the values of society at large: an illegitimate child, born outside of marriage, was a child of less value than other children.

When my father learned that he had to leave the city for military reasons, he began an effort to befriend Beatrice. She was young, intelligent, and attractive, with brunette hair and dark eyes. He made a bargain with her. If she would care for me daily and treated me kindly and gently, upon his return, he would marry her. She agreed. She wanted to be married to a high ranking officer.

Beatrice had no knowledge of parenting. When it was time to bathe me, she tossed my head around with rough movements as she washed my hair. I began to cry. She became angry and shouted at me.

One evening, when sailors had descended into the Red Light district, a very handsome man appeared at the De Leon residence. His name was Johnny. He had sparkling blue eyes, golden-brownish hair, and a beautiful smile. Both Beatrice and Valerie, her younger sister, were smitten by him. They discussed this man named Johnny with Anna, their mother, speaking partly in Spanish and partly in English. I could understand some of the Spanish because I often heard their conversations.

The De Leon women knew nothing about love. Sex was all they knew, and they considered the term love to be sex. These women had been born into a system of existence that excluded real love. Their dialogue centered on the fact that Beatrice already had the promise of marriage to a high ranking officer. Thus, Valerie should have this man. It had been she who had been with him, and she was smitten by him, and he, apparently, with her. But Beatrice had decided that she would take him. She had decided that my father was too old for her. She wanted Johnny, and declared that she would do everything in her power to get him.

The De Leon family had migrated to Argentina from Spain. They had strange beliefs. They made potions to attract men. They cast spells on men to make them do what they wanted. Lila, the oldest daughter, ran the entire family’s affairs. She read Tarot cards, and held séances. She foretold the future with crystal balls, and Ouija boards.

Anna decided that Beatrice and Valerie would have to fight it out for Johnny. There were established rules for physical fighting. Somehow, I was able to watch this fight. It was an astonishing and frightening event.

The two women stood at opposite sides of the room. Tables and chairs had been removed. When Anna gave the signal, the fight began. They attacked each other with ferocious anger, wildly throwing each other onto the floor, pulling each other’s hair, and scratching each other’s face. Then Beatrice did something strange. She looked at an object, and it jumped across the room, missing Valerie, but hitting the wall. Valerie countered with her own power, and an object moved across the room. They both seemed to have kinetic powers.

Anna finally stopped the fight. She determined that Valerie would marry Johnny, but they could share him.

Valerie and Johnny built a separate residence behind the De Leon residence. Beatrice moved into my father’s temporary residence adjacent to the Mormon Church rectory, where she resided in his absence. There was a huge, green lawn between the rectory and the De Leon residence. The children in the neighborhood were often found playing there. My father did not allow me to play with these children.

The De Leon residence, and the houses adjacent to it on either side, were built above the street level. They had huge green lawns, and Mimosa trees lined the street. There were trellises of orange trumpet vines and jasmine. The smell of Jasmine filled the air. At the end of the block, across the street, stood a very large house with a porch. Beside it stood a gazebo surrounded by flowers and vines.

Late one afternoon, I observed a frightening scene in the back yard of the De Leon residence. Anna had caught a chicken by the neck and was whirling it in the air, wringing its neck. She seemed to be exhibiting uncontrollable anger.

Before my father’s departure he called a meeting with Gladys De Leon and her husband, Will Benito. He wanted to make a business arrangement with them. He had chosen Gladys out of all the De Leon women because she had broken the family’s rule concerning who they were to associate with. The De Leon women associated with men who were fair-skinned. They did not like dark-skinned men. Yet Will Benito had dark skin, and Gladys had shocked the family when she announced her engagement to Will. The De Leon family were well-known. They owned property, and Will was enlisted in the Navy, which pleased the De Leon family, as they had ties to the Navy.

My father made a proposal to them. He offered them a sum of money. It must have been a large sum, because I recall Will responding,

-That’s an offer I can’t refuse.

My father accomplished two things in this meeting. First, he made an arrangement to put me under their care while he was away. Second, he caused a schism in the De Leon family structure. Lila, the oldest daughter, ran all financial affairs for the family. But now Gladys and her husband would have their own source of revenue, independent of Lila’s sources of revenue.

The house adjacent to the De Leon residence would become my temporary home until my mother’s return. Gladys and Will would occupy this home while they cared for me. The house would be refurbished, with new rugs, wallpaper, and furniture. All Gladys and Will would have to do was to provide for my daily care, cook for me, read to me, and take me for daily walks. He also made arrangements for my piano and dance lessons.

My father made special postal arrangements, so that his checks to them would be received on a regular basis. All of these arrangements were to be kept secret until an appointed time.

One day my father noted that the family considered me inferior to the other children. He called a meeting and asked them to gather around the table. They could all see that my father was angry. He was very angry and it frightened me. I sat on his lap listening in fear.

He announced to them that they would be taking orders from him now, and no one else. There would be a new order of authority over my care.

-I am number one he said to me. You take orders from no one at this table but me, when I am here. I am your father.

Then, taking out a picture of my mother, Margaret, and holding it in front of me, he said,

-She is number two. You are to take orders from Margaret and do as she says when she is here. She is your mother.

-Then, he continued, when she is not around, Will is number three. You are to follow his instruction when neither your mother nor I are here.

-And next, Gladys is number four. You are to take orders and follow her instruction when neither I, nor Margaret nor Will are present.

-And guess who is number five? he asked. You are number five when none of these four are around. You become your own boss. You are never to take instructions from any of the rest of these people! he shouted.

My father then had all of the De Leon family at the table reshuffle their places. I was asked to point out again Will and Gladys. He wanted to ensure that I became familiar with this family.

-And if neither I, nor Margaret, nor Will, nor Gladys are around, you become number five and listen to no one else. I want you to remember everything I’ve taught you, and if everyone at this table betrays you and turns against you, you become number one, in my place. And you turn to God for help, and remember that God is more powerful than any human being on this earth.

He turned and faced all of the De Leon family, and shouted,

-There is one power more powerful than any military that exists on this earth. And that’s God!

As he said this, he pulled off the fancy tablecloth on the dining room table, shattering all the crystal glasses as they fell. There were two officers waiting in the living room, who had watched everything. Then they left.

My father placed my picture on the fireplace mantle, and instructed the De Leon family that this picture was not to be moved. He placed me in Will’s arms, and then departed with his officers. I began to cry.

There was complete silence in the room. The De family was shocked at these events. Lila motioned to the family to pick up the pieces of shattered crystal. The timing of this meeting had been planned by my father.

Later that afternoon, Will and Gladys took me to a park. My father was waiting there. He took me in his arms, and I hugged him tightly. He comforted me and then put me on his shoulders, and I became happy again. He began to teach me how to climb a tree. I was excited at learning this, and began to climb on my own as my father and Will talked.

It was my father’s intent for me to become accustomed to being around Gladys and Will, who would care for me in his absence.

I want you to remember what love is. Remember how Margaret loves you, and how I love you. Remember how you love Margaret and how you love me. No matter what happens in life, remember our love. This visit from my father had been planned in secret.

Later that day, I found myself on the steps of my father’s office. This was another event planned by my father. Beatrice approached the steps and took my hand, but I was so frightened of her now that I struggled to release my hand from hers. My father was crouched behind the screened porch, and had a gun pointed to her head. He reassured me that she would not harm me.

A car drove up, and Gladys emerged, and walked up to me. She took me in her arms and then returned to their car, and she and Will drove off. I would be taken to their temporary residence while the house adjacent to the De Leon residence was being refurbished. Gladys and Will were to care for me until my mother’s arrival.

I felt relieved to be away from Beatrice.

A few weeks later, the refurbishing of our new residence was completed. My father had arranged for the décor, as well as instructions for my care. My room was on the first floor, to the left of the front door. It was a beautiful children’s room. The bed had a lovely quilt, and there were frilly curtains on the windows. There were shelves with books to read, which would occupy most of my time. Some of these books were Bible stories.

On one of the shelves was a small chest which contained some things my father and mother had given me. One of the items was a gold filigree bracelet, with an inscription inside. There was a small gold ring, and a gold locket containing a picture of my parents. There was also a chest of toys containing dolls, and teddy bears, and play dishes. There was a music box, with a ballerina on the cover. This was the room where I would spend most of my time. I would be alone, and isolated from the world around me.

The kitchen had a side door that faced the side of the rectory. There was a space between these two buildings. One could look onto this space. It was large enough for cars to enter.

Forget-me-nots, and daisies and other vines and plants lined the side of the house. This was true of most of the houses on the block.

The kitchen had a gas stove, and a small breakfast table off to the side, which led to the dining room. The house was beautifully decorated, and there were lovely paintings throughout the home. There was also a piano in the house, as I would soon begin piano lessons. I would also be given ballet and tap lessons.

Gladys and Will would live on the second floor.

There was a small bathtub in my room, where I was bathed each day. At the back of the house there was a screened porch, where I was allowed to play.

The front of the house had a large, open porch. The residence, like all the houses on the block, was raised from the street, creating a large, sloped front lawn.

This would be my temporary home.

A chest soon came. It was my father’s treasure chest. It contained letters from his mother and father, and letters from Margaret, as well as other people he knew. It also contained a Bible, and a stamp collection from countries to which he had traveled, and other mementos from his travels, such as pinecones.

My final meeting with my father was on a very large ship. I was taken to the deck, and saw my father standing there, waiting for me. I ran with excitement toward him, and he lovingly took me into his arms with much delight. I squeezed his neck. We walked around the ship as he held me, and pointed to the great waters that God had created.

When our time together had ended, my father said that he loved me very much and would miss me. He said he would always be thinking of me, and that his spirit would always be with me. He said that God would be watching over me. I was now 4 years of age.

I started to cry, and exclaimed that he could not leave me. As my tears and sobbing increased, my father’s tears began to fall, and I clutched his neck tighter. He was forced to call some officers to help him extricate my arms from around his neck. He repeated that he would return, and that everything would be all right. I continued to sob uncontrollably, and was taken by an officer to the rope ladder, and we descended onto the trawler as my sobbing continued.

-No, daddy! Don’t go! I shouted as we pulled away from the ship. My father and I were both broken-hearted.

I never saw my father again. But he had left me with hope that he would return, and that my mother would soon arrive.

In the days following, I settled into the routine that my father had created for me. Sometimes, as I played, I would hear the sound of airplanes