Amanda smiled when Joyce opened the door.
“Hello. I hear you're investigating me. Want to talk about it?”
Joyce tried to close the door, but Amanda's hands got in the way. “I won't bother you or hurt you. I promise. I’d really like to know more about this Jessica Holton. I'm not her, or at least I don't think I am.”
Joyce frowned but she relented and let Amanda inside. “From what I can find out, you are. You also were not born in Topeka, Kansas.”
“So what's it all about?”
“Your Social Security Number is assigned to Jessica Holton, who was born in Ryderville, West Virginia. At least that's what the computers and records report. The problem is that Jessica Holton died in an auto accident in nineteen-sixty-three. That's the year you were born, correct?”
“Yes.” She felt the chills and curiosity again while Joyce spoke. “Do you think it's only a computer error?”
Joyce shook her head. “Under normal circumstances, I might, but with the jade bear appearing in my bathroom, I don't think so. You're either hiding something or else you truly don't know. At this moment in time, I'm not sure which one I'd prefer.”
Amanda's eyes widened. “The jade bear appeared here?”
“Right after you called me the first time. It told me to cooperate with you and stay on the outside. I did, but this thing with the social security number and your birth won't let me rest.”
“That's strange, for I've had the bear since a few years before the accident and only recently have I ever dreamed of it. The dreams are strange but very beautiful, the kind that leave you feeling warm and cozy. Do you know what I mean?”
Joyce nodded.
“Anyway, how did you get all that information about me? Are you a private investigator?”
Joyce shrugged. “No. That's bizarre also, for under normal circumstances I’d be told that the information is classified, restricted, or not available. However, no one asks why I want it, or ever asks if I'm Amanda or Jessica. They simply give me what I ask for. For example, do you have a sister?”
“I do, but I haven't heard from her in over ten years. Her name’s Janet Blake.”
“Her name is now Janet Blackstone, she's married, has two children and lives in Springfield, Illinois. When I talked to her, she first denied that she was your sister, but later admitted that you were a part of the family. After that, she gave me the number and address of an aunt in Ryderville. Her name is Helen Blake Waltman. She has a Bible and a diary that she's sending, although she told me that if I ever try to get her in court, she'll not acknowledge talking to me and forbid me to give you her number. What did you do, Amanda?”
Amanda looked dumbfounded. “I have no idea.” She shrugged. “Truly I don’t. So far as I remember, most of my childhood was happy. It wasn't until, maybe junior high school, that the verbal abuse, mistrust and isolation started. It began with my mother, then Janet and then dad.
“The day after graduation, my clothes were on the front porch and I was told to leave and not return. Then I hurt so much that I left without an argument. The biggest hurt came from not knowing why they turned on me.”
“You can't remember any major event that led up to the beginning?”
“No.” Amanda's forehead wrinkled and her eyes scrunched closed. “Wait a minute. Maybe two months before that, my dad talked about a woman dying in Kansas and leaving an inheritance for her niece.” She jumped from the chair and paced the floor. “Yes, her death and then the abuse. What was her name? They were looking for Jessica Holton, but I don't know her and I'm not her. What is the meaning of this?” She felt nervous and her heart beat too fast.
Joyce caught her and sat her on the sofa. “Are you okay?”
“Beatrice Minnick! The aunt's name was Beatrice. They were in their bedroom and I remember hearing dad read the newspaper to mom and then their voices got too low for me to hear clearly.” She took a deep breath and willed herself to relax. “Why didn't I remember that before?”
Joyce rubbed her shoulders. “I don't know. Maybe the Bible and diary will give some good revelations. Can we talk about Joseph for a moment?”
Amanda shrugged. “Sure. You really love him, don't you?”
“Yes. I don't care for his abusing alcohol, or his abusing you, but like I said, he's not that way with me.”
“I'm glad. I think that before the court date, he'll become a much better man for you. I really wish you luck.”
“Thanks. What else have you done, that I don't know?”
“Well, I sent his boss a few photos of me, along with a letter about his drinking. He told me that he was suspended on Friday morning. I'd recommend you persuade him to go through a detox center, like Brawnmyr, in Malvern, Pennsylvania. If he gets that under control, he'll be much better.”
“Well, we'll work through it. He didn't tell me anything else, except the celibacy part. That was unique. I liked that.”
“I want nothing except what I have right now. When I go before the judge, I won't contest it. I don't want the house, the other car, alimony, nothing. I'll also return most of the money I took. It's strange, like this tiny voice is guiding me, and advising me to not hurt him like he hurt me. I wanted to kill him, but I can't. The term, Life Principle, keeps coming to mind, and it tells me to let him live, so I will. I'm done with him when we go to court.”
Four days later, Amanda sat in a coffee shop with Brownie in Wilmington. She told him of all that had transpired since their last meeting.
“So, what do you think? Just talking about this Jessica makes me shiver. Could I be living a dual life, like some of the people profess in the tabloids? What should I do?”
Brownie grinned and shook his head. “I don't think you have a dual life. It might make for a good novel or television show, but I don't put much credit on the tabloid stories. However, I do believe in family secrets, the skeletons in the closet archetypes that surface years later and wreck havoc with the descendants. For something like that to happen to you is a safer bet. If you were this Beatrice's niece, what happened to the inheritance?”
She frowned. “I never thought about that. At the time, I was young and naive. After that I was abused and isolated and I never considered it again. Is there some way to check into that after thirty years?”
“There is, but it sounds like Joyce is doing that already. Maybe she'll turn up something.”
Her beeper sounded and she took it from her purse. “Well, Joyce is paging. Maybe you're right.” She stood and kissed him goodbye. “Thanks, love. I'll see you later.”
“I wanted to have you here when I opened the package,” Joyce told her. “You can do the honors, since it's really yours anyway.”
Amanda tore the brown paper cover and inspected the Bible and a very small diary. She lay the Bible aside, opened the diary and started reading.
I feel the strong need to write this, but I don't know who will read it. My name is Jessica Belinda Holton and I was born in Topeka, Kansas. My family moved to the foot hills of Wyoming when I was five, so my recollection of Topeka is too dim and remote to mention. I enjoyed the hills of Wyoming, though. As I grew older, I fell in love with animals and had the goal of becoming a veterinarian. It seemed that I had a natural charm for animals. I could tame the wildest of horses and feed wild birds, squirrels, and raccoons from my hands. We, the animals and I, had a special, natural bond that satisfied both our needs. I didn't like hunting, not even for the meats. I know that my family and neighbors did it for a food source but I still disagreed with them. I spent a great deal of time out in the hills and forests and less time with the family, but I didn't mind. I was where I loved to be. The family, however, did not share my love and enthusiasm. They resented me and by the time I was twenty-three, the term 'Old Maid' was used with more frequency. It wasn't fashionable for a woman to be twenty-three and not married. Still, I didn't mind. When I was thirty, I was in the hills, about five miles from my home and I came across a hunting party. Three of the group were relatives, my father Ned, my brother Jack, and my uncle Walter. The other five I didn't recognize. They were hunting grizzly bear, for food and sport.
They enjoyed roasting the meat over hickory logs, but I never cared for it. I followed them from a distance for two hours as they supposedly had a track to follow. Suddenly I heard shouting and heard several shots. I moved to the top of a hill and saw the men surrounding a green-colored bear. They were astonished, dismayed as they discussed what to do. I remember looking at the green bear with sunlight glinting on his silvery teeth and I felt a great sorrow. The uniqueness of a green bear didn't affect me as much as the fact he was shot and killed. At the end of the discussions, they dug a shallow grave, buried him, and covered it with loose rocks.
I sat on the hillside and cried while they buried him and for a while after they left. Then I figured it was safe and I went down to the grave site to get a better look at such a magnificent creature. I worked for a few minutes to uncover his head and when it was clear, I nearly fainted. The one eye that was exposed, blinked. I hastily cleared the area of his muzzle and felt his hot, shallow breath on my hands. His teeth appeared to be razor sharp, but I felt no fear of him, I was too excited, and amazed to find him still alive.
It took an hour to uncover him completely and during that time, he breathed labouredly, blinked and when he could find strength, his eyes followed my movements. By the time I finished, I counted ten bullet wounds and three of them should have been fatal, still he lived. Only then did my curiosity really turn on and I considered what a green bear would be doing in the hills of Wyoming.
Then I thought of water. I ran to the river at the base of the hill, removed my blouse and soaked it in the cold water. I returned to the bear and squeezed the water out so it fell on his mouth. Four times I did that and then he began to struggle to rise.
I watched his undaunted effort for about a half-hour before he finally gained his feet. He inspected me, sniffed me and my blouse on the ground at my feet. I asked if he wanted to go to the river and he groaned as he moved his head. I gathered up my blouse and we slowly made our way down to the river bank. He drank for a time and then turned to look at me again. He lay down on his side and closed his eyes.
I made a comment about bringing a veterinarian to tend his wounds and he growled and shook his head, as if he understood and did not want it.
I gathered some wood and made a campfire for the night. I had decided I would stay with him until he could manage on his own or died. It seemed the least I could do. I put on my damp blouse and curled up beside him, resting my head on one of his massive shoulders.
Near morning, I was awakened by his wet muzzle against my cheek and a lick from his rough tongue. I sat up and stirred the campfire and added a few logs. The bear seemed in much better condition and drank some more water. Then he stood on his hind legs and roared loudly. A green haze surrounded him and I scrambled a few feet back from him. The growling sounded rather like a chant and then there was a brilliant flash of jade green light and a very handsome man stood in the bear's place.
I backed farther away from him then.
He spoke gently but with commanding tones. “If you did not fear me as a bear, you need never fear me as a man.”
I stopped and waited for him to speak more or move. “My name is Ningla, and I do not belong here. I was hunting with a party of twelve, and suddenly, I was the hunted. Thank you for saving my life. You are most kind.”
“If you don't belong here, where do you belong?” I asked him.
He smiled wistfully. “In the country of Jade, located in the mountains of Switzerland and hidden from the rest of the world.”
“Are the Jade people magicians?” I asked, considering the impossible change from bear to man.
He laughed at the question. “What is your name?”
“Jessica Holton,” I answered. “Why are you laughing at me?”
“Because you're so innocent and pure. So innocent, carefree, loving and tender. You are a marvelous work of art. A treasure beyond measured worth.”
The words of kindness and the touch of his hand on my face were delightful after so much harshness and ridicule from my family.
“The Jade residents are not magicians. We are people living out of place and time and we have for nearly four thousand years. The men of Jade, when it is their time, run an obstacle course called the Paraclipse. In the end, if we survive, we achieve a level of mental ability that is phenomenal, and the strength, agility and endurance of a bear. We are still human, but we exercise parts of the mind others cannot touch.”
I asked what he was hunting, but he did not answer.
He kissed me and slowly removed all my clothing and he seduced me there in the mountains. I was a virgin until that moment, naive and totally lost, except for the feelings he opened for me. I confess, I did not resist, for I loved every second and I still remember my shivers, my wild heartbeat, his touch, his kiss, the red fiery sun peeping over the mountain peak, the birds chirping and flying around us, everything. I went to sleep, more peaceful than I ever remembered, lying naked on the ground. When I woke, he was gone and lying on my blouse was a huge green emerald.
“Wow,” breathed Joyce. “Talk about unusual events.”
“Ningla sounds familiar from my dreams,” Amanda pondered. “If I'm not mistaken, he's on the Council of Jade. Maybe that explains the scrutiny I received during the last lucid dream.”
“Please go on. I want to hear more.”
Amanda handed her the diary. “Your turn.”
Problems seem to arise when you don't need them. During the last few months, I have received three beatings from my father, because I can't produce a man for the father of my child. What can I tell them that would suffice? If I told them of the green bear they thought was killed, I would be beaten and locked away in an asylum. I can't attach the child to anyone else in the community because I don't date. I'm lonely, scared half silly and I've nowhere to turn. Aunt Beatrice, Walter's wife, took the emerald that Ningla left me and scornfully said that tramps and whores were not deserving of good things. What am I to do? I'm seven months pregnant; I don't know how to have a baby or be a mother; I can't tolerate the beatings or the cruel abuse. I fear they will damage the baby inside me. I've been to the mountain where my child was created so many times it's pathetic, hoping I will find Ningla and he will make things better for me. But now I have quit going there and must face this alone.
I hope that I will be forgiven. I am denied the right to go to church, because of my embarrassing condition. I have no options it seems and there is talk of stopping the pregnancy. I can't let that happen. I don't know what has happened to me, but the changes with the pregnancy alarm me sometimes. But this I firmly resolve, if it kills me, the child within will be born. That is mostly because of the voices I hear at night telling me about the Life Principle. I've stolen $30 from the cigar box in mother's sewing closet, and I'm leaving town. I'm going east, for that's where the sun rose on the morning my child was created.
“That was all in Wyoming,” Joyce said. “The next entry is for near the delivery time.”
Things look better now. I've found a home in Ryderville, West Virginia. A wonderful couple, John and Alice Blake, who want a child but can't have one, have taken me in. I've been too long without food, or so the doctors say. The month it took to get here was grueling and there was little food available. The doctor says I should not deliver. The midwife, Ruth Morgan, says to trust in God, but both tell me that I'm far too emaciated to deliver and that I'll die in childbirth. If I die, I die, but the child will live. I've decided to go with Ruth and hang the doctor.
We've decided on a name for the child already. Amanda Amy Blake if a girl, and Aaron Arnold Blake if a boy. It saddens me to know that I have nothing to give the child but life, but that is all I can do. I would like to watch it grow and love it, but all I can hope for is to live long enough to see it once before I die. My life is too full of pain and tears to write more. If you ever read this, Amanda or Aaron, know that I loved you while I carried you and gave you all that I had, which was my life.
“That's sad.” Joyce wiped at the tears on her cheeks.
“Awesome!” Amanda sniffled. “I don't know what to say.”
“No need to say anything. This pretty much says it all. You're unique and special in some way. What do you think will happen next?”
“I think I’ll soon be the wife of a Jade Bear named Damash of Three. And to be truthful, I can hardly wait. From what I've seen, it's fantastic and so peaceful there.”
“That doesn't explain the Social Security Number, but that's okay now. Maybe it was done intentionally for this moment in time, like fate or destiny put the diary in the right hands at the right time for discovery. Does that make sense?”
Amanda nodded and stood. “Thank you.” She picked up the diary and Bible and left the wrappings. “I want to go, if you don't mind.”
She lay the books on the passenger seat and drove away from Joyce's house, dazed and so lost in thought, that she did not notice Joseph following her.