Posts Tagged ‘family’

Savages and Beasts

Posted: 20/03/2026 by vequinox in Literature
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…incident looked at the cook and displayed a momentary, ironic
smile before he added “yes, but of course Mr. Papadakis, we’ll
make sure of that.” At his signal Sister Gladys went to the phone
and called the RCMP; eight minutes later one cruiser arrived
with two officers, sergeant Thomas Ryan and constable Rob
Johnson who upon hearing Father Jerome’s comments, indisputable
proof of guilt they were told, arrested Mr. Wilson and
took him to the cruiser. Ten minutes later they had him at the
RCMP detachment where they booked him, placed him in a cell
and arranged to present him to the Kamloops Courthouse for
arraignment the next few days once the system would appoint
a defence lawyer and the date would be set for Mr. Wilson to
appear before a judge.
Father Jerome and all others went to their sleeping quarters;
Anton, after he went and locked the laundry door, took
George to his truck and drove him to his place before he drove to
his house; upon reaching there he went to bed. Yet thoughts filled
his mind and he tossed and turned unable to fall asleep. Suddenly
he felt the need to get away from all this, to go somewhere far
away, not to have to deal with the Indian Residential School and
what was taking place behind closed doors. He suspected that
once the news of all the abuses were known to the wide public,
since he felt it was his responsibility to send all the information
pertaining to these abuses he read in Dylan’s diary to the newspapers,
the Kamloops Residential School might be closed.
Anton wished he could do just that, to isolate somewhere
and concentrate on a totally different goal, yet his sense of duty
and responsibility which got him into the affairs of the Residential
School and the abuses these children experienced on a daily
basis reminded him, to his best recollection and absolution that
there lies his goal, at least for the foreseeable future.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Water in the Wilderness

Posted: 19/03/2026 by vequinox in Literature
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…had made arrangements for her aunt to drive her to Calgary this morning. Moe had invited them to stay with her and Ken, but they had not left the Holy Cross since arriving there shortly after the noon hour. Tyne knew that Aunt Millie would insist on her going to the Halls’ house tonight to get some rest.
Recently appointed to the position of head nurse on the Pediatric ward, Moe had met them when they got to the hospital, and taken them immediately to see Bobby and Ronald. Tyne stood beside the younger child’s bed, stroking his arm where it lay limp on the covers, the hand swathed in dressings. After a moment he opened his eyes and looked at her, and Tyne’s heart leapt. Moe said he had not yet responded, so the slight smile that passed over his face had given them all reason for hope and rejoicing. However, there had been nothing since, and Tyne’s spirits began to flag as she sat in the waiting room, hoping for another chance to see him.
As for Ronald he had greeted her politely as she approached his bed, but had bowed his head and whispered. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cresswell.”
“For what, Ronald? What have you to be sorry for?”
“That I couldn’t take better care of them.”
“Oh, Ronald, you did take care of them. Rachael told me how you made them keep moving.” Tyne gently stroked his arm. “If you hadn’t been there … if you hadn’t stopped them from giving up and going to sleep, they would have … they would have died.”
Through her tears Tyne had seen Ronald’s eyes fill up, and tenderly she had wrapped her arms around him and let him cry quietly on her shoulder.
Moe had told her earlier that Ronald’s parents had been to see him the previous day. She wondered how Bill had acted towards him, and was thankful that Ronald was in the safety of the hospital ward. She shuddered to think that the boy would have to return home upon his discharge from the Holy Cross. She had felt relief when Moe told her Bill and Ruby had returned to Emblem, because she felt she could not have been civil to them had she seen them.
Breaking into her thoughts, Aunt Millie came through the door with a loaded tray. A tantalizing aroma of chicken soup…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Jazz with Ella

Posted: 16/03/2026 by vequinox in Literature
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…very popular fellow for centuries, though not of her own faith. However, something about its crackled surface, the pale face of the saint, the gilding around the border and in his halo, and the very worn appearance of the icon touched her. It had been used by worshippers for centuries, loved, handled carefully. Even if it was essentially an Orthodox Church image, it spoke of devotion, the same kind of devotion that her people afforded to religious items and objects.
Staring at the gilt image again, she was reminded that there was purpose to her endeavour: to track down items of great religious or artistic significance before they were lost or defaced forever in this country. The Soviet political will toward their own ancient relics was appalling. Right around the Hotel Rossiya she had noticed a ring of decrepit small churches that no one cared about. The group had heard tales of centuries-old churches being used to store grain or left to tumble down. Why, in some cases, she reasoned, she was merely the instrument that provided a return of possessions lost decades ago by their rightful owners who had been forced to flee the country because of war or persecution. They would have to buy them back now from the consortium, of course, but that was a small price to pay. Of course, hoodlums like Krov upped the purchasing price and there were costs associated with running the business including the tidy chunk of change that was going into her own pocket for taking the risk.
Lona did not always understand the reverence that Jewish people paid to their history. It seemed to her as if they were always grabbing the long lost past and while she acknowledged the past, she preferred to look to the future. I’m sure if I had been alive during the pogroms, I would feel differently, she thought. As in all ventures like this, however idealistic in motive, there was always a lot of money at stake. The solid silver menorah would fetch many dollars so it was definitely worth hiding the bulky thing. It had not come from Krov, but from another kinder, gentler man who said it had belonged to his grandmother. He had provenance, unusual for these under-the-counter deals: a photo of his granny in Poland with the menorah. In the black and white photo the grandmother stood regal and proud, and the surrounding room appeared to be rich with objet d’art and other treasures. When asked, the man had told her that most of the art works had been buried in the garden when the family thought the Nazis would soon be at the door. But his grandmother had died in a concentration camp, and since that time, the home had been razed, the site transformed…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

He Rode Tall

Posted: 16/03/2026 by vequinox in Literature
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…daughter, disappeared from his life. Over the years, Joel had tried,
sometimes better than others, to keep in touch with his daughter.
Eventually, Joel had allowed the distance, the time zones, his
drinking, and his isolation to build a wall between them. Now
that Joel was back in North America and getting his life together
he had been hoping to reconnect with her. She would be fifteen
now, he thought.
Over the last few months, every lead he tried had dried up. Letters
were returned, stamped with “Return to Sender,” and phone
numbers had long been transferred to other parties. He was hoping
that somehow he could connect with his ex-wife’s family, but
that led nowhere. She was the only child, and it seemed as if her
parents had fallen off the face of the earth. Maybe they had. He
tried everything he could possibly think of and then in a state of
desperation, he phoned an agency that specialized in tracking
down lost relatives. They seemed very keen when he had called
and he sent them his ex-wife’s last-known address, along with
some old photos and the fee for their services. He was as hopeful
as they were, but they found exactly the same thing he did. The
trail went cold. It looked like he had left it too long.
Just the other day, he had received a call from a very nice lady
at the agency who explained that every once in a while they run
into a trail that was so cold that it was virtually untraceable, and,
as much as she hated to admit it, this was what it looked like. She
explained that if she had anything to trace she would, but, for
now, they had run out of options.
Yesterday as he held Cindy in his arms, he told her all about
Amber and his efforts to find her. Cindy reacted exactly as he
expected the caring and compassionate woman that he had
grown to love would. They held each other’s naked bodies and
quietly shed tears for Joel and his lost daughter.
Standing by the stallions in their paddocks this morning Joel
had to wonder if he would ever see Amber again. Where was she?
What was she doing? Although he had to face the sad reality that
he had really blown it and would probably never see his daughter…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562862

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

In Turbulent Times

Posted: 15/03/2026 by vequinox in Literature
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FIVE
The back door opened. Michael came into the scullery and washed his hands in the sink. His new young sheepdog, Finn, ran ahead of him into the kitchen and lay down on the rug in front of the range. ‘Well, that’s another day’s work done, Caitlin,’ he called out. He appeared in the doorway, drying his hands on a towel. ‘Joe! I didn’t know you were here. How are you?’
‘He just dropped in for a cup of tea and a chat,’ Caitlin said.
‘Well, I’m glad you did, Joe,’ Michael said. ‘I’d’ve been disappointed if you were home and didn’t pay us a visit. You’ve been to see Nora, I hope.’
‘Yes. Last night.’ He didn’t say that he had spent the night with her.
‘That’s good. Was Liam at home?’
‘Not while I was there,’ Joe replied honestly.
‘He’s always away somewhere,’ Caitlin stated with a strong hint of dis-approval. ‘Where was he this time? Did Nora say?’
‘Armagh, I think. Some field trip or other.’
‘That’s Liam. I don’t think he realises how often he leaves Nora on her own with the little one.’ Caitlin turned towards Michael. ‘Bring a cup in, Michael, there’s still some tea in the pot.’
Michael disappeared into the scullery and returned to the kitchen with a large cup in his hand. He wore a black waistcoat over a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his brawny arms. His hair was turning from golden to grey. He was a man in his mid-fifties now. As Michael filled his teacup at the table, Joe stood up from his chair.
‘No, sit on there where you are, Joe,’ Michael said. ‘I’ll bring one of these chairs over.’ He joined Caitlin and Joe in front of the fire in the range, carrying his teacup in one hand and lifting a chair from under the table with the other. ‘So the Gerries haven’t managed to sink you in the Atlantic then.’
Caitlin considered this an inappropriate opening to a conversation, but Joe didn’t appear to be put out.
‘No. We’ve given them the slip so far,’ he said.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763270

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