“It was jumbled so I couldn’t make it out.”
“No one’s ever told me that before.”
“What happens in the dream?”
She didn’t want to talk about it. The dream was vivid and terrifying. Any lingering images, she always suppressed.
“They don’t make much sense,” she said.
“How often does this happen?”
“When I was younger, every night. Now they come at the least convenient times… obviously.” She chuckled nervously.
“But the same dream?” he asked deeply concerned while recognizing her discomfort.
“Yes.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why? It’s not important.”
“I want to know everything about you. Even the things that frighten you… real or not.”
“When it starts, I feel incredibly happy and filled with amazing joy. Then there’s a loud sound. The next thing I know I’m running through a forest with other people… but something’s chasing us… trying to kill me. We’re trying to get away. People are dying, screaming, and crying… and I can’t seem to run fast enough. No one’s there to help me, no matter how much I scream. Then someone carries me away. But I can hear them… all of them… all around me. The dead and dying… then everything goes black.”
He drew her closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “Are you certain it’s just a dream?”
“What else could it be?”
“Perhaps a traumatic childhood memory. You said you didn’t know anything about your past before the orphanage.”
“I’m from Baltimore. There’re no forests like that, trust me. What’s more likely is my birth mother was a crack addict who had sense enough to give me up.”
“But you don’t know for sure. Your search into your background ended because of a dead end. Correct?”
“My records are sealed.”
With little hesitation, he said, “I can have them unsealed.”
“No, you can’t, Ben. I tried every legal means possible.”
“I can get the information… but only if you want me to. All it takes is one phone call.”
She had little doubt he’d try to do everything he said. She spent ten years searching for information about her birth parents only to end up at the same place… nowhere. Yet, here was this remarkable man who’d entered her world uninvited, without warning or want, with the capacity to give her the greatest gift… learning exactly who she was.
His offer was gracious, but she didn’t want to be disappointed again. She’d had too much of that in her life. There were few people she trusted and somehow he’d become one of them. “Let me think about it, okay?”
“Whatever you want, my sweet,” he said gently kissing her forehead. He couldn’t promise her a future, but he could do this.
Their Saturday was spent making love, laughing, and talking before making love again. Her body ached from it all, but she couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted to stay in the throes of ecstasy until it was time for him to leave. With business interests as complex as his, it was just a matter of time. If only for a few weeks, it pained her knowing he’d have to go back to London soon.
Naked, exhausted, and hungry, she said, “We need food. I don’t have much in the fridge. I should run out to the store and pick up something.”
“Why not do takeaway?”
“Do what?”
“A pizza or Chinese.”
“You mean takeout?”
“They can’t come here?”
“Oh!” She giggled. “You mean order food for delivery?”
“Yes, I’d much prefer to stay in,” he said gently nibbling her shoulder. “Don’t you?”
“What do you want to eat?”
“The only sustenance I truly want is between your thighs,” he said inching his body closer with that look in his eyes.
“Let me order first, and then we can have a quickie until it gets here,” she said reaching for her phone.
“A quickie? No, my sweet, there will be nothing quick about it.”
He nuzzled into her neck licking and kissing it before grabbing her breasts in his strong hands. She tried to keep it together when the cashier came on the line, but it was difficult.
“Stop it,” she whispered.
“No!” he playfully replied.
Ben began slurping, pulling, and flicking her nipples with his warm mouth and tongue. The prickly hairs growing on his face felt scratchy but extraordinary. She shooed him away, but it only encouraged him. Her breath got heavy, barely able to speak.
“Yes… an extra large… supreme.” Looking down at him making his way between her thighs, she continued, “Yes, I want everything!”
“You shall have it,” he whispered devilishly as he toyed with her until she completed the call.
Dropping the phone, she wrapped her legs over his shoulders casting her head back lost to him once more. It was ravenous and wondrously uninhibited. Ben exhibited an insatiable appetite having explored, probed, licked, and sucked every orifice and part of her body.
When the doorbell rang, he grabbed his pants and wallet heading for the door shirtless. It was immediately clear it wasn’t the takeaway driver.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Excuse me?” Ben said indignantly.
Oh shit! Deborah thought. What the hell is he doing here? She grabbed her robe rushing to the door.
“Deborah, who is this dude?”
“Rodney, you can’t show up to my apartment unannounced!”
“I’ve been calling you for days!”
“There’s nothing left to talk about.”
“You could’ve at least answered the damn phone!”
“You need to leave!” she replied.
“So this white motherfucker is the reason you haven’t been returning my calls?”
“Goodbye, Rodney.” She tried to close the door, but he placed his hand on it preventing her.
Ben immediately stepped in front of her, looking at the man who’d invaded their peace. Growing angrier by Rodney’s disrespect toward Deborah, he said, “She clearly doesn’t want you here.”
“This ain’t got shit to do with you, Mr. Bond!”
“Continue disrespecting her, and you will regret it,” he said menacingly. “Now, she’s asked you to leave. I suggest you do so.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Far from it. It is a guarantee.”
“Ben, it’s okay,” she said trying to de-escalate the situation. “Rodney, please leave. It’s over. You know that. Please don’t show up at my place again… and don’t EVER call me again.”
More angry than hurt, Rodney stormed away. Wanting to apologize for the display, Deborah turned to Ben. His beautiful blue eyes had grown cold and dark, yet an eerie calm reflected back at her. Diverting his eyes from her, he paid the pizza delivery driver who came upon the scene. Deborah retreated to the couch pondering how best to deal with the discomfort and embarrassment of it all. Sitting beside her, Ben placed the pizza on the coffee table. The initial silence between them was telling.
“I didn’t realize there was another man in your life. You never mentioned it.”
“He’s not in my life… anymore.”
“But only recently, yes?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” he said with a twitching jaw and piercing eyes.
Ben was genuinely jealous. On one level, it delighted her, on the other, she wanted him to understand what he’d come to mean to her.
Gingerly touching his scruffy face, she said, “What’s happening between us? This thing? I’ve never known anything quite like this in my life… and it’s only been two weeks. I never had anything come close… with him… or anyone else.”
“A man’s jealousy is equally as dangerous as his wounded pride.”
At that moment she didn’t know whom he was referring to. “What do you mean?”
“I can have a security team watch over you until I return.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Since he brought up his inevitable departure, she asked, “So, when do you have to go back?”
“Tomorrow. But I’ll be back within two weeks or so.”
“Why so soon?”
“I’ve recently lost my personal assistant and business associate. There are matters I must attend to until I find a trustworthy replacement or solution. But I will come back to you… as soon as possible.”
It sounded crazy in her head, yet her heart had completely taken over. “You could stay here… when you get back.”
He smiled. “It’s best I stay at the club. They have the resources I need to conduct my business more efficiently.” Looking at her, she seemed hurt. Scooting closer to her, his lips hovered over hers as he continued. “But… I’ll only need the club in the daylight hours. My nights will be yours.”
“Only the nights? Daylight’s kinda fun, too,” she said coyly.
“It most certainly is!”
The pizza was soon forgotten as their passions took hold of them again.
CHAPTER 10
It had only been a week since he left, but she missed Ben terribly. Fortunately, the monotony of her work kept her busy. Deborah poured through the last box of papers. She knew if she kept her pace, she could have each in Mylar, with new folders, and in archival boxes within a few hours. Once the basic inventory was finished, the work plan called for cataloging her hand-written notes into the secured database. Then she could translate and transcribe everything. It was this portion of the work that could take years no matter how much money Ben wanted to throw at the process.
Placing the last piece of paper in the Mylar sleeve, she was thrilled with her accomplishment, but there was still so much more work to be done. As she stared at the metal cart full of archival boxes, her curiosity peaked. Her attention focused on the individually wrapped prayer books and diaries belonging to Father Willem Dubois. Reaching for the same diary she’d scanned when the Collection arrived, she decided to read more.
After finding the original passage, she translated the next:
April 24, 1895
I find my faith is tested daily as I minister to the Bakongo people. They are faithful to their gods, resisting our efforts. In truth, how can any blame them when what passes for Christian virtue is defiled behavior? Today was more horrific than the last. The other priests stand idly by while the atrocities continue. Today, Stanley’s men dismembered a poor wretch for not meeting his quota. Raising my concern, I am told, “this is the way it must be for the savages to understand the importance of hard work.” Blasphemy! But I am steadfast. My calling is clear.
Deborah reached for the archival box with corresponding dates. Flipping through them, she found several letters written to Antoine Dubois from his son, Father Willem. One read:
Dear Father and Mother,
I have received your letters dated January past. I trust winter’s chill has passed, and the bulbs of spring are bursting forth. How I miss them!
I must say the Congo has wonders of its own. The land is rich and bountiful with varieties of nature I can scarce describe. When left to their own devices, the people live as I imagine Eden before Mephistopheles.
You will be pleased to know we have finally opened our small school in another village. The children are curious and very bright. If, but for a few hours, they are freed from labor.
Father, I must ask you to confer with your associates regarding your investments here. Surely what happens here cannot continue. Mother, please pray for me.
Give my love to my dear sisters, Antoinette, Margot, and little Camille.
Always, Willem
Deborah became uneasy when she finally realized what Father Willem was referring to in his diary and letters home. With only a passing familiarity, she knew Africa was carved up by European nations to extract its wealth in natural resources around the time of Father Willem’s writings. She placed the letter and diary back in the file. Opening her laptop, she began searching for information about the Belgian Congo.
What she found in the online search horrified her. The more she read, the angrier she became. She finally knew who ‘Stanley’ was. He was Dr. Henry Morton Stanley, the world-renowned explorer and hero of the 19th century. His exploits on the African continent should have damned him to Hell along with his benefactor, King Leopold II. Yet, somehow he remained a revered figure around the world. It sickened her.
The search also contained hundreds of disturbing images. Deborah viewed picture after picture of mangled bodies. The hands of children in piles on the ground while aching parents grieved nearby. Interspersed among them was propaganda supporting the narrative that a glorious religious conversion of the natives was happening. In those images, smiling children with their hands behind their backs stood next to priests, guards, and occasionally Stanley, himself. The truth was anything but that. They were all scandalous murderers. The lies satisfied Belgium and the rest of the world’s greed. She grew more enraged and terribly sick to her stomach.
Rushing out of the examination room to the bathroom, she passed Megan.
“Deborah? Are you all right?”
She didn’t answer as she burst into the bathroom. Megan followed. Deborah threw up repeatedly in the toilet.
“My, God! What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Megan asked with genuine concern.
“I’ll be fine!”
They hadn’t said much to one another since Megan revealed her knowledge of Deborah’s affair with Ben. Megan wet a paper towel handing it to Deborah when she came out of the stall. “Here.”
Wiping her mouth, she replied flatly, “Thank you.”
“Is it something you ate?”
“Something I saw.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The papers. Father Willem was in the Congo during the reign of King Leopold II. He was one of the priests who witnessed the atrocities.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not familiar with any of this,” Megan said.
“In the late 19th century, Leopold II of Belgium wrangled personal control of a large swath of central Africa. It was home to tens of millions. Hundreds of tribes, mostly Bantu, like the Bakongo people, were forced into labor camps. Leopold made a fortune for himself and Belgium without ever setting foot on the continent. He is responsible for the death of millions!”
“Most European nations banned slavery by then, right?”
“Officially, but we both know, even in American history, it took other forms and names. What happened in the Congo… it was genocidal of epic proportions.”
“Maybe you should take a break from it, especially if it causes this kind of reaction.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
“Start fresh tomorrow. The day’s almost over anyway.”
“I really want to get some more translations done before Ben gets…” She stopped knowing exactly what Megan thought about her relationship with him.
“How is Mr. Stewart?”
“Do you really care?”
“Of course I do. Deborah, we’re friends.”
“You’re my boss… you made that very clear. Now if you will excuse me.”
Deborah was back into the diary and soon weeping as she struggled through several more entries. People are horrid! Like a rampant disease of wickedness, she thought. Placing the diary back on the cart, she wheeled it all back to the secured storage area. Grabbing her things, she finally left for the day. She couldn’t shake what she’d seen and read.
Driving home, her cell phone rang. Looking at the display, the number coming through was private. She knew it was Ben. He was always punctual.
“Hello.”
“Hello, my sweet!” he said softly.
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Likewise. How was your day?”
“I finished the inventory.”
&n
bsp; “That’s wonderful news. Anything interesting?”
“More like stomach churning… literally.”
Ben got very quiet because her voice carried strain.
“Are you still there?” Deborah asked.
“Yes. What did you find?”
“Did you know Father Willem was in the Belgian Congo under Leopold’s reign?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what happened there? The genocide?”
“Yes… But I take it you didn’t?”
“Before today I had no idea the scale of it. I don’t know if I’m angry because I didn’t know about it or the fact it happened. It was a crime against humanity.”
“It was a crime by humanity.”
“A loving God would’ve done something… assuming He exists.”
“I’m surprised you said that. You’re Catholic.”
“Lapsed.”
“But you believe?”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore. I’ve never been able to reconcile a lot of what I was taught. It makes no sense! It’s as if He made everything then abandoned us.”
“I imagine it’s a consequence of free will.”
“So, God lets things like that happen? Why?”
“Depends on the god.”
“I thought what happened to Native Americans and the enslaved was bad…”
“Ah… well, Americans have the propensity of having a narrow view of the world. There was considerable complicity the world over. A major portion of your auto industry was built on the raw materials coming out of the Congo. Particularly the rubber for tires.”
“My God… I didn’t even think about that.”
“Try to put it out of your mind for now, my sweet.”
“I don’t think I can, Ben. Those pictures…”
“I need you to,” Ben said softly.
“If you already knew about that, what exactly do you hope to find in the papers?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“I’ll try to have more for you when you get back,” she said, “and maybe a more personal surprise.”
“I look forward to it… all of it.”
When he finished talking with her, it was late, and he crawled into bed with her solidly on his mind. He was glad to have a few days respite at home because he needed the rest. While delighted with the reason, he didn’t get much sleep while in Detroit because of time spent with Deborah, but the tiredness hit him hard when he finally got home. For the most part, he napped and read.
Asira Awakens Page 7