The Guamanian Princess Chapter 1

That horrifying image of what he did, will it ever leave me? Jade-R paused, her heart pounding. Entering the hospital, she took a deep breath, adjusted the collar on her blouse and headed down the long corridor. Moments later she stood beside him. Sunlight streamed through the window and fell across the bed. Her father’s face had lost the powerful look it once had, and his thick dark hair was gray. It was the first time she had seen him since that lurid night. His eyes, transfixed with terror, stared up at her. Suddenly clenching his fist, he began gasping for his last breath. With a feverish chill she reached out and touched his arm. He did not respond, and soon the nurses removed his oxygen tube and IVs. Now it was over. The black framed clock on the wall showed 11:00 a.m. A quick thought flashed through her mind as they covered him with a white sheet, Will the gates of heaven or hell be waiting? She wiped a burning tear as it rolled down her face, put on sunglasses and walked out of the hospital to the waiting limousine parked at the curb. Official flags fluttered on the front of the black government car, and people stood watching in the blistering heat as the limo sped through town. Turning onto the loop in the road she could finally see the mansion, drenched in sparkling sunshine, sprawled across the hilltop. She smiled at its remembered elegance. At the guardhouse they stopped long enough for Napo, the chauffeur, to give his usual nod to the man on duty. Winding up the long driveway past lush green plants, they arrived at the entrance. Napo jumped out to open her door. “Glad you’re home,” he said. She patted the cuff on his navy blue suit and replied, “Thank you,” noticing the freckles across his nose had lightened. Or maybe she had forgotten. But his wide smile and polite manner, as always, were comforting. The living room with its polished blue marble floors still seemed enormous. The rich sweeping view through walls of glass to the tropical turquoise sea was endless, with white clouds floating above. Picking up a photo of her gorgeous American mother, she admired how her arms were gracefully crossed. Quickly Jade-R placed her hand over her heart and sighed. In that picture, her mother was wearing a familiar diamond and emerald ring with matching bracelet. Heading on to her grand piano, she stopped for a moment and ran her fingers down the genuine ivory keys and listened as the sound echoed through the room, reminding her of the long hours she was made to practice. Pushing the doors open to the formal dining room, which had always been her favorite spot, she recalled the summer when she was eight years old, lying on the floor watching the artist handpaint a white coral motif around sections of the ceiling, eventually running it down the corners. Now more than ever, the chandelier seemed to sparkle, with blue crystal prisms intertwined with huge pieces of natural coral. Flopped across a bamboo chair was her patched tabby cat named Max. “You grew up to be a big boy. I told you you’d be beautiful!” She rubbed his head as he rapidly swished his distinctive striped salt-and-pepper tail. She had interrupted the cat’s nap and Max was irritated. Amused, she watched as he darted off and then remembered, Dogs have masters; cats have staff. Making her way to the kitchen, she found the faithful servants listening to the radio just as the announcement was made: “The governor is dead.” Immediately one of the older servants bowed her head into her starched white apron and began to cry. The cook dropped a stainless steel pan that went crashing to the floor, and then covered her mouth in disbelief. Suddenly both servants looked up at Jade-R, stunned, completely dazed, as if they were seeing a ghost. Tears flowed as she hugged them, but still in shock they continued to stare at her. Later, walking the long hallway lined with matching chandeliers, the one so many times as a kid she had roller- skated down, Jade-R finally reached her room. To her surprise nothing had changed. She wrapped her arms around the custom post on her bed and looked up at the ornately carved wood pineapples resting on top. Her large dramatic bed jutted out from the oval end of the room. Draperies on the tall glass doors were pale pink silk with a subtle palm tree design. She grabbed a handful of fabric, pressing it against her face, to enjoy the softness. She had forgotten how pretty, how elegant they were. Glancing toward the dresser she noticed her youthful keepsakes, such as the whimsical poem with frayed paper edges, ripped from her favorite book, still taped to the mirror; and the coconut she had hand-painted one rainy day long ago. On a table, stacks of unopened books caught her eye and she stood fixed on them, knowing all those years of reading had helped her survive that terrible journey. She dropped her head and fought tears, sick with the memory of those tragic events, and how it all began in 1959…on the Island of Guam. Her father the governor, always loving, spent plenty of time doting on her with a constant stream of gifts. He gave her a pony she named Oatmeal. He built a huge swimming pool, but no one was allowed to come swim. When she would ask, his answer was, “They are not worthy.” Boasting, but somewhat irritated, he would add, “You are my only child. I teach you at home, and I hire the best. I won’t allow my daughter to associate with other kids,” pointing his finger, adding, “not of your level.” He made sure her dresses were tailor designed and from the finest cloth imported from Hong Kong. The local jeweler created custom buttons in 18 karat gold, all of which were either shaped like island flowers, or “P” for Princess, inlaid with diamonds, rubies and emeralds, the only ones to be sewn on her clothes. When political functions were held at the governor’s mansion, her governess, a sweet lady named Kimea, would help her into a gold silk dress, and then escort her to her father. She loved how tightly he held her hand, while proudly introducing her to his guests. However, before long she would be sent back to her room. One such night it was warm, so she pulled back the drapes to let in some air. The band was playing, and through the open window she could hear the beautiful music and see people dancing. At the buffet line she noticed the lieutenant governor’s son, her age, standing and laughing with his parents as she watched from the lonely darkness of her room. Only a collection of plastic spoons was a tangible reminder of the one day a week she was allowed off the compound. On those days, Napo would drive Jade-R and the governor to the local Dairy Queen. One afternoon her father telephoned to say he couldn’t make it, but that evening surprised her. It had never happened before, the excitement of being out at night together! While she ate peppermint ice cream from a cup, next door a movie began to play on a huge screen. She didn’t know this existed! Cars were parked side by side, with speakers resting on their windows. Thrilled, and quickly taking it all in, Jade-R begged to stay and watch the movie. Gruffly her father answered, “A drive-in? No. That will never be for you.” The ride home was quiet. They passed a small hamburger place and from the car window she could see young kids her age having fun. Most nights being isolated made her wonder, What would it be like to have friends and just do teenage things? However, as time passed, she continued respecting her father’s wishes … until one night.

Dana L. Evans

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