But Papa wasn’t cooperating. He grabbed her other arm, squeezed even tighter, and then shook her. Leaning down, he was almost nose to nose with her now. “Don’t even think of trying to bite me again.” He stared her down. “Now ... are you quite finished?”
Lifting her chin, she turned to face the other way.
“Fine.” He dragged her toward another door and swung it open. “This”—he shoved her toward a smelly man lying on the floor—“is what will happen to you if you decide to disobey me again.”
She stumbled and fell onto the man. His open, unseeingeyes made her scramble backward as fast as she could. She’d seen dead men before but had never gotten used to it.
“As long as we are clear, my dear.”
“Yes, Papa.” She swallowed hard. “I won’t disobey you again.”
“Good. No more tantrums?”
“No, Papa.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
With a shiver she worked herself back to her feet, but as she turned, Papa closed the door and locked it. “This is simply to give you a chance to think about your actions, my dear. And to remind you of the consequences.”
Kneeling down, she looked through the keyhole. “Papa?”
But he turned and strode away—
“No!” She woke with a start and sat up. Sweat on her forehead and neck. The memory from her childhood always came back in her dreams.
This time she’d woken up before she saw the blood. And before she screamed along with her seven-year-old self.
Rubbing her arms, she pushed the pictures in her mind away. Her father had been a harsh man, but he had indeed given her the world. And all his knowledge. Every scheme. Each bargaining tactic that had won him his fortune.
Now she was enjoying the life she lived. The parts she played. Continuing the legacy and building the fortune.
Papa had been harsh, yes, but he’d taught her that she could have whatever she wanted.
No matter who stood in her way.
Ten
“With songs and hymns these rocks ne’er rang;
These hills the prophets never trod,
Nor sages e’er these wonders sang
Nor seers have heard the ‘voice of God’
Yet here the Spirit dwells, divine,
That spake with men in Palestine.”
~Earl Douglass—
From hisHymn of the Wilderness
SUNDAY, MAY19, 1889•JANKOWSKIMANSION
As she read aloud the last portion of Gregor Mendel’s paper,Experiments in Plant Hybridization, Martha’s thoughts tumbled over each other. Ever since hearing the lecturer who’d gotten himself practically booed off the stage, she’d wanted to read this paper that he mentioned.
It was in German and not easy to get her hands on, but she’d finally acquired it, thanks to a hefty sum. Good thing she was fluent in German—and French, Italian, and Latin, for that matter. All thanks to her tutelage growing up.
