Sweet Karoline (Catherine Astolfo) by Catherine Astolfo

Author:Catherine Astolfo
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Imajin Books
Published: 2013-07-14T07:00:00+00:00

Dear Diary,

I may sound bitter. But I'm really not. I exacted my revenge and I'm content. It's too bad I didn't see her face when she realized what I'd done, though.

Chapter 17

The next morning Dembi and I resume our gold-seeking adventure. We are even better prepared than last time. Drinks, snacks, as well as lunch are packed in the picnic basket. Insect repellant, sun lotion, hats and trowels in a backpack. Shovels in our hands and rubber boots on our feet.

"You look like real explorers," Miriam says.

Dembi holds up his shovel. "Gold diggers!"

We don't dare laugh in the face of his seriousness, but we smile indulgently at one another. Miriam stays back with Memé. Hopefully, she'll receive some word from the agency about a caregiver.

The low cloudy ceiling keeps the insects buzzing around our faces as we plunge into the forest once more. I'm glad we sprayed repellant, but I still find the helicopter-ing by my head annoying. Once seated on the rock in the cool dry church, birds complaining above, I feel far more relaxed. Dembi lets me hold the Book of Vryheid on my lap.

What a curious inheritance we have! Descended from one of fifteen very brave families who left their comfortable, though sometimes abusive, situations. It must have taken a great deal of courage for the lot of them to break away from the relative safety of Brant's protection to strike out on their own. How ironic that our branch tumbled down over the decades to become drunkards and half-wits.

I flip quickly through the pages from the early 1800's. More angst, crop failures, deaths, disappointments. The handwriting of those who kept the records changes constantly, getting steadily less flamboyant and neat. In 1954, the records stop altogether. Over two hundred years of history abandoned in a hole under a church altar.

Each of the fifteen original families have several pages devoted to their trees, as long as anyone cared to fill it in over the years. Some are meticulous and detailed, while others are pretty sparse. But every one of them ends on April 11, 1954. I don't bother dwelling on that date. I am here as a treasure hunter for my brother's happiness.

Dembi and I search, dig and talk for a couple of hours. We eat our lunch under the noisy canopy of birds inside the abandoned church. The flat section of the altar rock is becoming very comfortable indeed.

My brother turns out to be really good company. His knowledge of the history of slavery in Canada is astounding. My mother Vera always led me to believe that her birth country is a haven for all people, devoid of racism or hatred. Naturally, that isn't true. Human beings are simply not perfect, wherever they may live. And of course, Vera is certainly capable of embellishing. A polite way of saying that she's a liar.

Dembi loves delicately searching through the Book of Vryheid. Some of the stories are tales told by visitors to the area. Perhaps people who are traveling further up river in search of nirvana.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.