Sacrificed

by Chanette Paul

  Caz sat down on the top step and lowered her face into her hands again, struggling to hold back the tears.

  No. You’re not going to crack now, Caz Colijn, she admonished herself. Look on the bright side. It’s a beautiful comforter, even if it is pink.

  Erevu

  Ghent

  To: Jela

  Dove did a brilliant job.

  Any news on the professor?

  To: Erevu

  From: Jela

  Great!

  Request for information on Annemie Pauwels made by Professor Luc DeReu. Ghent University. Still working on it but his trail is relatively clear. Unfortunately I have to work backward and it takes time.

  CC’s laptop didn’t yield much. Nothing of note in the inbox. Small nest egg in the bank, but that’s all. Not worth taking risks for.

  But she remains the key.

  Erevu nodded as if Jela could see him. He had made the right decision sending Jela to Belgium for her last few years of school. Just like his mother had done with him. There were times when he had been unsure whether it was such a good idea, especially since he had to do things he wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t needed the money for her schooling.

  But look now. Graduated from university. A good job. A girl to be proud of, even if she did arrive unbidden. He had only been eighteen, still at school here in Belgium. If Jela’s mother hadn’t died shortly after her birth and her parents hadn’t refused to have anything to do with the baby, he would probably not have played much of a part in his daughter’s life. He had taken her to the Congo and left her with his mother while he completed his training.

  History repeated itself when Jela gave birth to Dove at the age of seventeen. But best of all was that they shared a dream. A dream that had come a long way.

  Jela was only seven or eight in 1986 when that dream came into being. When he had gone to Uganda and met the spiritual medium Alice Auma Lakwena in person. What a remarkable woman. She was the one who had finally given his life direction.

  Erevu had first heard of Alice Auma during church services at the mission where he went to school. The missionary, Brother Jonathan, told him about the Ugandan woman possessed by the spirit of an Italian captain who had drowned in the Nile during the First World War. She called the spirit Lakwena, the Messenger, and said he used her to communicate with nature and that nature responded.

  He had asked Brother Jonathan how nature responded and the old man rattled on about the woman being possessed by demons because she misused the Bible while still worshipping ancestral spirits.

  Erevu had remained silent. White people didn’t understand. Wasn’t Yeshua an ancestral spirit as well? Only one who was world renowned? About whom one read in the Bible?

  No one had written about Motetela—the great ancestral spirit of the Tetela, he at whom one may not laugh—but he was a spirit every bit as important as Yeshua.

  Erevu decided he had to know what the answer was that nature had given Alice Auma and he proceeded to find out. With great effort and at great cost, he crossed the border.

  The price was high, but for the first time he truly understood his calling and realized there could be only one logical outcome. An outcome now in sight. He, Erevu, would be venerated as the architect of the ideal Congo. Jela would be his right hand and Dove his foot soldier.

  Jela’s view on how to realize the dream had since changed. But whichever way they turned their dream into reality, Cassandra Colijn had to lead them to Amelie de Pauw or, if the old woman happened to be dead after all, to the nkísi that had been taken unlawfully from him and from his progeny.

  Caz

  Ghent

  Caz couldn’t remember when last she had downed a beer so fast. Tieneke looked on with disapproval, but at least she had made her a somewhat dry ham-and-cheese sandwich.

  When Caz took a second Stella from the fridge, Tieneke rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  “So tell me,” said Caz, pushing away the plate. “How’s Mother?”

  “Her mind is reasonably sharp, but she’s physically weak. She tires quickly, even from talking. You woke her with the racket you made with your suitcase, but she’s asleep now. She seems calmer, now that she knows you’re here. I think it would be best to give her until tomorrow before you meet with her. She needs to rest.”

  And what if she dies during the night? Caz couldn’t help wondering. Then all would have been in vain. “I’ll wait until she wakes up, but I’d like to see her today.”

  Tieneke gazed at Caz’s empty plate for a moment, then sighed. “We’ll see how she feels. What would you like to do in the meantime?”

  Unpacking was not an option. There was no wardrobe, or even a chest of drawers. She would have to live out of her suitcase. “I’d like to take a shower, if possible.”

  “Of course, but try not to use too much water. I’ll bring you a towel. The bathroom is ...”

  “On the first floor. Yes, I know, I’ve already found it. Had to pee, you know. Thanks.” She swallowed down the last of the beer, put the plate in the sink and tossed the two empty bottles in the bin.

  “No!” Tieneke clicked her tongue and took out the bottles. “We recycle. Flanders has been named the region with the most successful recycling program in all of Europe.”

  “Just show me where, and I’ll recycle, but right now I’m going to fetch my bathroom things and a change of clothing.”

  “And please put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. After you’ve rinsed them, of course.”

  Caz nodded patiently. “I will. Next time.”

  Thighs protesting and knees aching, she climbed the steep stairs. But the battle in her mind blocked out the pain she felt. A battle between reason and revolt. Between exhaustion and the rush of adrenaline.

  You’ll have to keep your wits together, Caz Colijn. Not be so touchy. It’s no good. You have three more weeks ahead of you. Let reason prevail.

  Well and good, O Sane One, revolt taunted her, but perhaps you should hide the razor blades. For your own sake. And stay away from knives and scissors. For Tieneke’s sake.

  Erevu

  Ghent

  Erevu jumped when his tablet pinged.

  From: Jela

  Dove must be at the Ghent University campus tomorrow and pretend to be a student. It’s the start of the academic year. There will be a procession to the Aula.

  He must watch out for Luc DeReu in the procession. Tall, lean man, thick gray hair. Glasses.

  I attach a photo but it’s not very clear. No contact for now, including eye contact. Just identify him and make sure DeReu notices him. Dove will be conspicuous, but once DeReu regards him as a student he’ll keep doing so, even if he sees Dove repeatedly.

  DeReu is Plan B to get to the old woman if CC fails. Don’t know yet how they are connected but he wouldn’t have enquired in SA for nothing. Somewhere there must be a link. The year proves it.

  Erevu smiled. What would he do without Jela?

  Caz

  Ghent

  “You get your way. Mother wants to see you, but you’re to greet her and that’s all. She’s tired. She’s usually better in the morning. We’ll have to see.” Tieneke was no more morose than usual, but Caz got the idea she was reluctant to have her see Josefien today.

  Did she have misgivings? But why? She was the one who had all but blackmailed Caz into coming, after all.

  “I’m just going to the bathroom first.” She was suddenly very nervous about facing Fien.

  She pushed her fingers through her curls and made sure her mascara wasn’t smudged. For the first time in a long while she took a good look at her face in the mirror. Not only to make sure she was presentable, but to see what she looked like. To others.

  After the incident in Hermanus when the woman had confused her with Antoinette Kellerman, Caz had googled the actress. T
he woman had been right. The hair was the same. Her face was softer, though, the features not as strong as Kellerman’s. And yes, Caz was considerably younger.

  But the face at which she was staring now did not look young. It looked frazzled, and afraid. It was true, she was afraid.

  Fien had never raised a hand to her. There had been no need. Her words hurt like no whip could. But Fien’s sharp tongue was only one of the things Caz feared at this moment. What she feared most was what she was about to hear about her origins.

  Caz took a deep breath. Surely she was strong enough to face up to an old woman just short of a hundred? A dying old woman, besides.

  Tieneke opened the bedroom door. “Speak loudly and clearly. Her hearing is not very good.”

  When the door clicked shut, Caz was alone in the room with Fien.

  If she hadn’t known it was Fien, she would never have recognized her. Nothing remained of the full-figured woman with the sharp gaze. The deeply wrinkled cheeks were sunken, the face and hands bony. The watery eyes glinted, even paler than before. A few tufts were all that was left of her hair. In fact, the hair on her scalp seemed to have migrated to her chin. The teeth, grinning macabrely from a glass on the bedside table, accounted for the slackness of the mouth.

  The woman she had feared just a moment ago was no more than a living cadaver. Yet she still carried an aura of authority. How it was possible, Caz couldn’t fathom.

  “Hello ... Mother.” What else could she call her?

  “Cassandra.” She raised her hand slightly and beckoned Caz closer with a crooked index finger.

  Caz obeyed.

  “I don’t have much time. Been waiting for you.” She coughed drily and pointed at a glass of water next to the one with the teeth.

  Caz held the glass to her lips, wiping the drops from the corner of her mouth when she indicated she’d had enough. Was it tenderness she felt? No, she wasn’t that magnanimous. What she felt was more a sense of letting go.

  Fien in the throes of mortality was not the woman she had known. She couldn’t be angry with her. One quiet hateful thought seemed enough to push her over the edge.

  “Your mother bribed me.” She gasped. “To take you in.” Another gasp. “I didn’t realize. No amount. Of money. Is enough.” This time a sigh. “To raise. Another woman’s offspring.”

  Caz swallowed. Did she hear correctly?

  “You destroyed. Our family.” She gave another dry cough. “Never again. A happy family. Since Ammie Pauwels. With her big belly. Arrived.” She closed her eyes, drew a shuddering breath.

  Ammie Pauwels. The room tilted briefly. Caz’s ears rang. Her birth mother had a name.

  Caz was startled when a rattling sound came from the bed. She feared Fien was coughing or choking, until she realized the skin-clad skeleton was laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Ammie. Who left you. And then Lilah came.” The laugh became a cough, then turned into an anguished wheeze.

  The door flew open and Tieneke rushed in. “Out, Cassie!” Tieneke grabbed an oxygen mask, turned on the tank and placed the mask on her mother’s face.

  Caz stood rooted to the spot. “What do you mean ‘and then Lilah came’?”

  “Verdomme! Can’t you see you’re upsetting her? Calm down, Mother, calm down. Out, Cassandra! Out, I said!”

  Caz turned and left. Not because she was following Tieneke’s orders, but because she couldn’t stand the sight of the creature in the bed a moment longer.

  She’s old. She’s senile. Forgive and forget. She’s old, she’s senile ...

  Over and over Caz repeated the words to herself, like a mantra, but it didn’t stop what she was really feeling. A stabbing pain. A dagger being turned and pushed in again.

  Go ahead, fuck with me all you want, you old witch, she wanted to scream, but leave my daughter out of it!

  Nine

  Luc

  Damme

  Tomorrow was the opening ceremony of the academic year. Every year it was a great to-do, which the first-years probably found exciting, but Luc just wanted to get it over with. Lectures commenced on Monday. His preparation had been done; the postgraduate students’ assignments had been graded. One last blissful free weekend lay ahead.

  He was going to use it to relax, but today he might just make a call or two.

  For the time being he was assuming that Amelie de Pauw and Annemie Pauwels were the same person. Despite the death certificate. If it weren’t the case, he would find out soon enough.

  Discovering that their marriage was illegal, or even worse, possibly bigamous, would have been a huge blow to Jacq. Luc had found the answer to his initial question, but a series of new questions had ensued. Why hadn’t Ammie divorced her first husband? Why had she left him? Had any children been born from their union?

  If so, what had become of them?

  And these questions were only the tip of the iceberg.

  It would be preferable to get the answers from Ammie herself but he didn’t want to upset her again, like the last time. Besides, he strongly doubted she’d take a call from him, never mind allow him to see her again. And then there was the matter of her memory that came and went.

  That left Lieve. Why would she think there were other children? How much did she know? How much had she figured out from things Ammie had said when her memory was doing its veiled dance?

  Only one way to find out.

  “Lieve Luykens, good day?”

  Luc sat back in his chair. “Good day, Lieve. Luc DeReu here.”

  “Professor?”

  “I just want to know how Ammie is.”

  There was a short silence. “She’s furious with me, Professor. I don’t think I should even be talking to you. I need the job and your mother and I have come a long way. I don’t want ...”

  “Ammie doesn’t have to know, Lieve. I won’t put your job in jeopardy. I give you my word. I’m just worried about her.” It wasn’t completely untrue.

  Lieve gave a deep sigh. “I understand, but what I don’t understand is why you’re suddenly worried about her now, after all these years.”

  Lieve might not be a rocket scientist, but neither was she stupid. Proceed carefully, DeReu. Do you yourself even know why?

  “I blamed her for the way she treated my father, Lieve. When I heard she was getting married again, well, what can I say? Besides, my father would never have forgiven me if I’d remained in contact with her behind his back.” True, yes, but actually he was just a wimp who had wanted to get on with his life.

  “Professor, I don’t think there would be any point in developing a conscience now. I’m sorry I involved you. It was a desperate attempt to give Miss Ammie some purpose in life. It didn’t succeed.”

  “Lieve, at my age one regrets a lot of things. Ammie haunts me. I would like to understand her better. I might get through to her. Perhaps I can think of a way to make up for abandoning her when I was an arrogant youngster. You must remember that I was barely twenty-one when she disappeared from my life, without warning or explanation. I was hurt. I couldn’t discuss the matter with my father. He refused to talk about her and fell into a deep depression.” The admission was unexpectedly painful.

  Perhaps he could finally admit to himself that his anger hadn’t been only about his father. He had been deeply hurt on a personal level as well. Ammie might not have been his biological mother, but she was his mother in every other sense of the word. He couldn’t understand how she could turn her back on him with such ease. Maybe he had been too afraid to try to find out what had happened to her. Why she had left. Afraid of being hurt even more. Or was he just making excuses?

  “What do you want to know?” Lieve asked after a long silence.

  “You mentioned other children. I’d like to know more. Perhaps the answers are there. Are they still alive?” He gnawed on
his lower lip while he waited. It was make or break.

  “Me and my big mouth.” She was quiet again. “I think there were two. Whether they’re alive, I don’t know. Remember, these are just assumptions I made while she was rambling, mistaking me for someone else.”

  “I understand, but anything could be important.”

  “Sometimes she calls me Fien. That happens when she’s very confused. And out of sorts. It has something to do with a letter. Recently she gave me a furious look and said something like: ‘Did you have to mention Cassandra? I don’t want to know anything about her. Do you hear me? I don’t want to know anything about César’s spawn. Do you get that, Josefien Colijn?’ And then she said: ‘She might have come from my body, but not from my soul. She’s nothing to me. I paid you to take her and raise her. You were greedy enough to agree. I don’t owe you anything.’ It was awful. She looked at me with such venom in her eyes. That’s probably why I remember it so well.”

  César. Amelie de Pauw’s husband was called César.

  Cassandra. The prophetess who received her gift of prophecy from Apollo and, when she wouldn’t return the love he felt for her, was cursed by him. No one would ever believe her prophecies.

  Bingo.

  Ammie’s claim to have been present at the birth of her first husband’s child made sense to him now. She was the mother. Could a mother really cut herself off from a child so completely? Evidently, she could.

  “And the second child?”

  “She mentioned another child only once. She called me Tabie ... no, Tabia. Said I must make sure Elijah’s child is well. When he’s grown up, explain to him why his mother was forced to leave him.”

  “Elijah? I thought her first husband was called César?”

  “I don’t know who Elijah is. Maybe she was more confused than I had thought. That’s all I know about the children. If I understood her correctly, mind you.”

  “César’s last name?” Janssen might be a common name, but César wasn’t. If he was César Janssen, at least there was less doubt that Ammie had once been Amelie de Pauw.

  “I don’t know.”