Page 11 of A Pawn for Malice
A moment of silence passed between them. Shecould not help but think of the child she had lost, and her palmslowly moved over her lower abdomen. She ached for that feeling ofmovement, that was no longer there. If only she could have gottenaway sooner, she thought, her daughter would have had the chance tosurvive and be born into a safe, healthy, and happyenvironment.
My darling, sweet, little girl … my Suzanne.I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and itconstricted painfully, as she tried desperately to hold back thetears. She wanted to tell her Aunt about Suzanne, about how shelost her, about what Richard had done. She couldn’t. She hadn’t thestrength to relive that horror also again.
As a tear escaped, she quickly wiped it away.She forced herself to think of something else. She couldn’t letthat painful loss drag her back down, down into that dark pit ofnothingness she had escaped to, when she didn’t eat, didn’t talk,hadn’t bathed and wallowed for weeks, after her loss. It had takeneverything she was … to push herself … to move on.
It was then, she remembered, that when shewas a young girl, she would sit and listen to her Aunt tell storiesof their family’s history in this very same room. She realized, shewanted to hear those stories again more than ever. She needed to bereconnected to that person she once was, to reconfirm where shecame from, who her ancestors were, the proud heritage that made herthe woman she had become, and had lost for quite some time.
“Tell me the stories, please.”
Her Aunt looked puzzled as she repeatedJessica’s request. “The stories, dear?”
“When I was younger … you know … about ourfamily. Please. I need … “
She swallowed back the urge to cry, as hervoice shook with emotion. “I just need to hear them again.”
Florence nodded knowingly and took a shortsip of her brandy.
“Of course, dear. Should I start from thebeginning?”
Jessica nodded her reply.
“Let me see now,” Florence paused briefly, asshe gathered her thoughts and shortly began in a soft, soothingvoice.
“When colonization became brisk, the DutchWest India Company was given a nice monopoly of American trade.Under its direction, Dutch merchants established friendly relationswith the powerful Iroquois tribes, who welcomed them as potentialallies against the French, occupying the St. Lawrence Valley. Thetrading company maintained posts as far up the Hudson River at FortOrange, which later became the city of Albany.
It was at this post, Jessica, our history wasborn. Your great, great, great grandfather, Colonel Gerard Rochellewas the commanding officer at the Fort. Oh, he was such aresourceful and handsome young man!”
Jessica’s gaze met the portrait that hung onthe far wall of the sitting room. He was indeed a very strikingman, with eyes the same color green as hers, looking back ather.
“Your grandfather won the immediatefriendship of the territorial natives and responsible forprotecting the mixed colonies of Dutch, French, and Swedishsettlers. Quite the crisis had begun to develop, when the Englishbegan to settle into the Mohawk Valley. They were a terrible lot,invading the hunting grounds of the Iroquois. The Indians had longbeen friendly with them, but it was feared such an insult wouldcause them to desert to France’s side, leaving them without apowerful ally.
So, the Board of Trade assembled a congressat Albany in 1754. It was attended by representatives from NewYork, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and the New England colonies. And mydear, because of the high esteem your grandfather was held by bothred and white men alike, he was honored to represent New York atthe young age of thirty-two.”
Jessica welled with pride. She had forgottenshe was made of such fine stock. Being under the Wilton’s thumb forso long, and victim to their barrage of insults and abuse, hadlessened her self-esteem over time. It had been a terriblestruggle. Despite how strong of a person she knew she was, it wasdifficult trying to decide whether she should end her marriage. Herambivalence was confusing … whether to stay or go … whether thingswould get better … whether Richard might change. It was like herAunt knew what she was thinking at that moment.
“You come from greatness, Jessica. Yourgrandfather met the love of his life at that time, FlorenceLivingston, whom I’m named after. There has been a Rochellerepresentative at New York’s Legislature, up until your dad waskilled in that terrible accident. Don’t ever question your worth,your strength, or your ability, dear … never again.”
Jessica pondered her words briefly, beforeshe responded.
“When Grandma Rochelle raised me, she neverspoke much about my mom and dad. Everything I know, is because ofyou. My dad must have been quite the Senator, hah?”
Her Aunt nodded and smiled wistfully, as shetoo reflected for a moment.
“My brother was something else, yes. Hisconstituents and colleagues adored him. He would have never let youenter into such a marriage either.” She waved her fingermatter-of-factly. “I hate to say it, but our mother was a connivingand manipulative woman. All she cared about was money and status.The way she misguided you, was unforgiveable.”
She watched as her Aunt rose and addedanother log onto the fire. She bent over to stoke the coals first,then placed the log over them. She rose and turned with a broadsmile upon her face, as though she had some big secret toshare.
“What are you thinking?” Jessica coaxed.“You’re up to something. I can tell.”
Her Aunt laughed heartily, as she seatedherself and took another sip from her glass of brandy.
“Nothing really, dear. You’re going to fit innicely with Bryan’s team. I just know it. It’ll be wonderful seeinga Rochelle back at the Capitol again.”
“I’m a little nervous about that. What if hedoesn’t hire me? It’s been, my god ages, since I’ve conversed withpeople on such an intellectual level. Richard kept me prisoner,Aunt Florence. I rarely got out.”
Her Aunt waved her remark off. “Oh pooh. Yougraduated from Berkeley with honors in communications. He’ll hireyou, and, you’ll assimilate just fine. Besides, by the time I giveyou some inside pointers, you’ll be one step ahead of thosedimwits, who used bed sheets instead of brains and experience, toget their jobs.”
