Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (3 page)

   “Some people are made victims,” Martha continues, “And they stay victims. These people always become destructive to themselves or to others around them. But other people are made victims and they choose not to remain as victims. These people become an inspiration to everyone around them. They are survivors. There is a big difference between the two.”

   Martha grins and pats her granddaughter's right leg, “You inspire me because you are a survivor. You proved this as a young child. And you will prove it again. It is in your blood to fight.”

   She takes hold of Julia's right hand, “Never give up. Never believe you are inferior to someone else. Never believe it should have been you. And don’t you think for one second that your life is worth less than any other.”

   The older woman sighs, “You are of my blood. And if you want to lie down and die, then we're going out to the shed and grabbing a shovel. I'll suck down some martinis while I watch you dig.”

   “Grams,” the surprised teen remarks, “That’s horrible.”

   “No?”

   Julianna grins while moving her head left to right, “No, grams. I'm not going to off myself.”

   Martha releases Julia's hand, “Well then, now that that’s out of the way. There's something I need to show you. But not before we get ourselves together and go shopping. Those rags you call clothes won't do for any granddaughter of mine. And besides, you're my excuse to Frank for a new pair of shoes.”

   Martha smiles and winks her right eye, “We girls must stick together.” The mother of Julia's mother catches recognition and approval within her granddaughter's eyes.

   “Shopping then?”

   Julia nods.

  Martha hugs her granddaughter and stands. She heads over to the open door and enters into the hallway.

   Martha turns around and looks at Julia, “Wonderful. Then let the ladies of this house have a day of shopping. I'll see you downstairs when you're ready.”

    Julia watches as her grandmother closes the door. She doesn’t know how she did it, but her grams has her feeling a lot better than she did a few minutes ago.

Chapter 2

   The Library

   “You look absolutely divine,” Julianna butchers an accent meant to reflect a southern belle.

   Martha turns to examine a diagonal front-side view of the white bonnet hat upon her head. The woman places both of her hands upon her chest while playing along,

   “Well, I'll declare. Martha Dermott, you are a spittin' image of southern hospitality.”

   Julia laughs. She examines her grandmother within the reflection of the full-length mirror inside of the department store, “Grams, you even sounded retro.”

   Martha faints shock, “Retro. Is that what you young-uns are calling us old folks now?”

   “Grams, you're not old. You're very beautiful.”

   Martha's eyebrows lift slightly, “Careful child. You don't want to be responsible for giving an old woman a big head now.”

   Julianna smiles and rolls her eyes, “It looks good on you grams. I like it.”

   Martha shifts the hat, “Yes, I do believe this color works.” The woman turns to face the attendant, “I'll take it.” Martha then points to a folded pile of jeans, shorts, blouses, and underwear, “Oh, and she'll take that over there.”

   The female attendant smiles and bows her head, “Yes ma'am.” The blond with short cropped hair claps her hands together two times. Three female attendants swoop in and move everything to the cashier's station.

  Martha notices the amusement on her granddaughter's face. The woman puts her right arm around Julianna. She speaks in a soft whisper, “I never get tired of that.”

   The cashier nods as the two customers approach, “Welcome back, Mrs. Dermott. Would you like this placed onto your account?”

   “Yes Devia. Thank you,” Martha answers politely, “That'd be fine.”

   “And who's this that you have brought with you today?”

   Martha's face lights up with pride, “Devia, meet my granddaughter, Julianna.”

   The cashier smiles, “Hello, Julianna. It is very nice to meet you.”

   “Thank you. You too,” the girl greets.

   Martha makes eye contact with Devia, “I need you to add Julia to my account. If she ever comes in here, take care of her.”

   “Absolutely Mrs. Dermott, I'll see to it personally,” the cashier replies.

   Martha turns her attention to her granddaughter, “Anytime you need anything, you can come in here. Speak to Devia here. You'll be in great hands with her.”

   Julia tries to nod her understanding non-nonchalantly, but is unable to hide the mixture of surprise and joy covering her face.

   Martha gently pats her granddaughter on the left shoulder, “One of the many perks of being Julianna, dear.”

   “Mrs. Dermott, will you ladies be carrying this? Or would you prefer a delivery?”

   Martha looks questioningly at her granddaughter. After a few seconds, Julia catches on. 

   “Oh. Um…delivery?”, Julianna takes a guess.

   Martha laughs, “There's the proof. You are most definitely of my blood, sweetie.”

   Julianna looks into her grandmother's blue eyes and smiles. Not from embarrassment. But instead, because she now knows that everything is going to be okay. She is indeed home – home with her grandmother who has welcomed her unconditionally.

   The two ladies spend the early morning hours browsing different shops inside of the mall. For lunch, they stop at the food court. Martha is pleased to see her granddaughter has regained some of her teenage hunger. She watches the sixteen-year-old put away a double cheeseburger, some french fries, and a rather large MT. Dew. The older woman polishes off her Caesar salad and mulls over the idea of whether or not to reveal the complete truth to Julia. She decides the day has been good so far and does not merit any ruining. However, if she approaches everything tactfully, then there should be nothing to ruin. The divided woman contemplates a few minutes longer. She wonders if her granddaughter is even ready for such things.

   “Grams, you're staring at me again,” Julia observes.

   “Sorry dear. I was just debating where we should go after lunch. Got any ideas?”

   “Grams, you've already done way too much for me.”

   “Oh that’s nonsense, child. You must learn to allow an old woman her happiness,” Martha counters.

   “And you must stop calling yourself old. You’re not old.”

   “I feel old,” Martha says while looking at her young granddaughter.

   “You’re not.”

   “If you say so,” Martha concedes to her granddaughter’s argument.

   The teenager slurps the last of her fountain drink. She wipes her hands on a napkin and adds it to the ever growing napkin pile upon the food tray.

   Martha teases, “Do you like a little food with your ketchup?”

   Embarrassment shines through Julianna's uncomfortable grin.

   Martha chooses to release her granddaughter from the apparent anxiety she is exhibiting, “That's nothing child. Just wait until you witness you grams in action with a plate full of barbeque. Frank calls it sexy barbarism.”

   Julia delights in her grandmother’s company. She knows that she should be wrapped up with a blanket, some tissues, and a never ending cry. Yet, her grams, seemingly has other plans. Julia silences while searching Martha’s blue eyes for answers. A few moments later, the teen realizes that speech will probably be the better approach. 

   “Grams, why didn't dad bring me to see you after mom died?”

   The older woman dreads the question hanging heavily within the air, but it has been expected. She forces a grin while readying herself. Martha takes a breath and nods as she exhales. The woman speaks with a comforting, motherly-like tone.

   “Well dear, everyone grieves in different ways. I suppose; maybe, your father was afraid of losing you. He probably thought that he would give you to Frank and I if he ever brought you to us. I know your dad loves you with all of his heart.”

   The woman let’s out an exaggerated breath.

   “My guess is that your dad couldn't place himself into the very situation which would force him to face that kind of decision. The thought of being separated from you was just too much for him.”

   Julia spends her forthcoming silence evaluating the wisdom within her grandmother's words. A few minutes passes before she finds her answer. She looks up at her ever patient grandmother.

   “I've never looked at it like that before.”

   “Sometimes,” Martha replies, “It is easier to see everything when you are not the one standing inside of a closed box without a flashlight. It can become quite scary in that box; especially, when you don’t know of any other option.”

   Julia looks down. She swirls the fry in her left hand within the ketchup. She glances back up.

   “Grams, I'm glad I'm here. I've missed you.”

   “I've missed you, Julia. And we have a lot of catching up to do,” the woman replies. Martha continues, “On that note, are you ready to go?”  

   Julianna nods, “Ready.”

   She stands up, throws her trash away, and follows her grams out of the mall. The mall, Julianna, will now always be partially fond of.

Ding.

   The electronic bell announces Martha and Julia’s arrival into the small store. The glass door reads:

                 “Curious Gifts and Supplies

                   Open 8:00 a.m. - 6:00 p.m. M-F

                             9:00 a.m. - 7:00 p.m. Sat.

                             Closed on Sundays.”

   “I'll be a chicken’s bones if it isn't da Mrs. Martha Dermott. Come in to say, 'hello to én old friend', have we?”, an older lady in her fifties proclaims. The dark skin woman has her black hair pulled back with a red and white bandanna. Gaudy jewelry hangs from her ears, wrists, and around her neck. Large rings decorate her fingers. The voodoo priestess holds both hands out to welcome her only guests for the day, “Come here én give an old lady a hug, Mrs. Martha.”

   Martha strolls over with a smile stretched nearly ear to ear. She embraces her life-long friend of over thirty years, “Lady Lanecia, it is so good to see you again.”

   The two friends unlock from one another. Lady Lanecia holds her friend at arms' length, “Let me see ya. My - my, Mrs. Martha. I see da years has been kind to ya.”

   “As they have been to you, Lady Lanecia. How long has it been?”

   “Oh my. Ya wouldn't be tryin' to make én old woman count now would ya?”

   Martha laughs, “It has been too long, dear friend.”

   “Dat it has, Mrs. Martha. Dat it has.”

   Both friends exchange kisses on each other’s cheeks, respectively. The five-foot eight-inch tall voodoo priestess looks over Martha's left shoulder, “Én who is this dat you have brought with ya?”

   Martha grins. The red-haired beauty steps to the side to give her friend a better view, “This is my granddaughter, Julianna.”

   The Lady Lanecia places both of her hands on her chest, “Oh my, how beautiful ya have become. If I didn't know betta, I'd say you'd be da incarnation of Lilith...”

   “Lady Lanecia,” Martha interrupts, “Julia hasn't been in my home since she was seven. Not since Theresa fell ill. We have just been recently reunited.”

   The Lady Lanecia gives Martha a strange glance before waving for Julia to step forward, “Come én let me see da spittin' image of da Misses Theresa.”

   Julianna looks at her grandmother. When Martha nods, her granddaughter walks up to the owner of the store. The voodoo priestess holds out her right hand to indicate her desire for the girl to do the same. Julia is unsure of what to make of this strange woman. She, reluctantly, holds out her left hand for the taking.

   With her right palm below, the woman places her left palm on top of Julia's hand to lock the teen's hand within her grip. The voodoo woman’s pressure takes the younger girl by surprise. She glances at her grandmother.

   “Look én my eyes, Misses Julianna. Let me see ya pretty eyes,” the woman softly speaks.

   The teen shifts her focus onto the strange woman before her. The woman's brown eyes seem to go on forever – like looking into some kind of eternal portal that has no end. Julia feels as if this woman's brown eyes are looking through her – deep down somewhere beyond the coloring of her green eyes.

   The voodoo priestess smiles, “Yes. Such da beautiful emeralds ya be havin', Misses Julianna. So vibrant. So full of da strength and life. Yet, I'd be seein’ much pain recently for ya.”

   Julia's head retreats as her eyes begin watering. She has no idea why. Yes, she is sad. But she doesn’t even know this woman. And for whatever reasons, the tears start falling. She looks down at the floor.

   The Lady Lanecia speaks motherly, “Do not be of da heavy heart now. Tis be not yur fault, Misses Julianna.”

   The saddened girl nods with understanding, but is somewhat angered that her grams would call this woman and tell her these things.

   The Lady Lanecia laughs, “No, Misses Julianna. Da Mrs. Martha Dermott did no such thing.”

   Julia jerks her hand away, “What the hell?” The girl's confusion is only rivaled by her fear. She cannot begin to grasp what just happened – what is happening.

   Martha quickly intervenes, “Julia, it is alright. There is nothing to fear here. You’re among family.”

   Julianna shakes her head and runs her right hand through her black hair across the top of her scalp. Her mind refuses to give up an answer which makes any sense. She looks at her grams, over to the woman in front of her, and back again. Fear and confusion only increase their stature. Julia throws up both hands defensively, “I can't do this...whatever
this
is.”