Facing Redemption (3 page)

             
But, on the other hand, when she allowed herself, her mind wandered to the second letter she’d brought with her on the plane.  Even the thought of this letter, was enough to fill her heart with anxiety and dread, because it was the letter she never expected or wanted. 

             
It was a letter from her father, a man she’d hoped for her whole life.  A man she knew had to be the missing piece in her complex puzzle, but when finally finding out the truth about his existence and the secrets that came with it, she wished she’d never discovered him at all.

             
So in Venice she tried to solely focus on her Kylie’s letter, which gave her insight to her mom’s history in so many ways.  It had a profound effect on her emotionally; as it gave her the closure she needed after her mother’s death.

             
Kylie, battling cancer, knowing her life was to be cut short, finally let herself fall into God’s grace.  Her letter to her daughter was one of apology for all her transgressions.  It was also a plead to Chastity, to not make the same mistakes she did.

             
Somehow knowing her mother was gaining spiritual strength as the cancer rapidly weakened the rest of her was enough to give Chastity peace for her mom’s passing.  Once in Venice, a part of her felt she needed to visit church to find out what it was all about, but at that point in time she couldn’t make herself do too much about it.  Not with the weight of her father’s letter, and it’s impending doom nagging her, as it sat in her hotel desk.

             
Even with the best intentions, Chastity lasted all of two weeks.  The new eyes she held, as a tourist, held her curiosity at bay for John’s letter during the first week.  She was in awe of all around her – the piazzas, the architecture, and the food.  Food … the food was her one great diversion. 

             
By the second week, her art instincts took over with a massive desire to paint all the beauty around her.  It was, after all, why she’d truly come to Venice, to attend art school and to breathe in the same air as the greats, like Da Vinci, who had painted there centuries ago.

             
Sadly, it only took one day at the Church of San Zaccaria to undo all the previous promises to herself … not to open John’s letter.  Originally she’d planned to take her sketchpad and watch the tourists and the locals.  She hoped it would bring her inspiration, but instead it brought her a bit of desperation. 

             
The sight of a father and small daughter was enough to make that familiar void in the pit of her heart start to ache.   From there, everything came undone.

             
Her whole life she felt as if a part of her was missing.  Being told her father was dead for most of her life, wasn’t an acceptable answer for her.  Some part of her always felt like she had someone else out there other than her mother. 

Her lifelong desire of finding that part of her fell to pieces, once she discovered the true story behind her conception.  It was never out of love, but out of control and hurt that brought her into this world.  Hard as she tried, she couldn’t get past that fact.

Seeing the father – daughter moment, and knowing that her father was now trying to reach out to her with letters, was enough to walk to the nearest café and order a bottle of wine.  Halfway through it, she pulled her art supplies together, put them in her tote bag, and corked her bottle to head back to her room.  The letter was all she could think of…that darned letter and its writer.  It had been haunting her for weeks, and her curiosity finally got the best of her.

             
After Chastity sauntered in her room, she dropped her bag by the door and left her bottle on the table next to the bed.  She quickly crossed the floor and opened the desk drawer, staring at its contents.  There it sat, with tight handwriting scrawled across it addressed to her.

             
She almost lost her bravado.  Chastity hesitated slightly before picking it up.  The only thing holding her back this long had been her loyalty to her mother, but she’d had just enough wine that her loyalty didn’t register … almost.  The last of it gave her pause for a few seconds, before her anger at her father finally won over.  Quickly she tore at the envelope, while giving herself a small paper cut. 

“Ouch!” She sucked on her finger, before pulling out two handwritten pages. 

             
Chastity felt as if she were somewhere else or someone else, looking over her own shoulder.   She’d promised herself never to open and read this letter, and yet here she was about to read words from a man, who in her mind had no right to reach out to her. The words on the paper tumbled out as she quickly read, and her buzz took over.

Chastity,
                                      

I hesitate in writing this, as I know you’ll probably never open it, and I wouldn’t blame you.  You have every reason to hate me.  Trust me; I’ve done enough of that for both of us for years over what I did to Kylie … your mother.

             
I didn’t learn until recently about her passing.  I was hoping to make things right for her, but now it’s too late.  Maybe, on some small chance that you’re actually reading this letter, than it’s not too late for me to make it up to you.

             
I have no excuse for how badly I treated your mom.  I have no recollection of who that young stupid boy is or was.  All I know is that I broke her and if given a chance, I would have tried to pick up the pieces.  Unfortunately, I was shipped off to military school soon after. 

             
After leaving, it took me a few weeks to recognize what a monster I had become.  I want you to know I’m not that monster … not anymore - although I’m far from redemption.

             
At that point in life, I held so much anger inside.  Anger that my father dictated my every action, as it had been my whole life.  That anger was waiting to bubble over and take its toll, given the right circumstances. This by no means makes up for my actions or what I did to Kylie.  This is something I’ll regret my entire life.  

             
I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, but my mother died when I was born.  Maybe this is another reason I have felt the disapproval from my father since my memory serves me.  Between his lack of care, and the guilt I’ve held of being the reason my mother died … let’s just say I wasn’t a great candidate for mental stability growing up. 

             
I am not writing these things to you to make excuses for my un-excusable actions.  I have only figured these things out just recently through counseling, and well, I guess I just thought it would help explain to you why I was - the way I was. 

             
I don’t expect you to understand overnight … or ever.  It’s taken me a long time to make sense of it all, and I guess I just wanted to reach out to you to let you know that I’m truly sorry.

             
Between my actions and my father’s, your life has not been easy.  Seeing you as a child, I ached knowing that my actions had caused your mother so much pain - and in retrospect you as well. 

             
I know my father became relentless in trying to find you both.  He was aging, and he knew I was desperate to know you.  I couldn’t believe I had a part of me out there and I wanted to find you – to know you. 

             
Initially I think my father was trying to make up to me for all the years he spent running our home like boot camp.  I know it’s not excuse on his part in his efforts to find Kylie, but he wanted to give me something back … some sort of family … finally.  He knew keeping me isolated from memories of my mother hurt me.  And it slowly dawned on him that you were a part of his Marilyn, my mother. It hit him pretty hard.  This was why he was almost desperate to find Kylie…to find you, a link to his wife and a part of the love they shared.

             
I made the worst mistake of my life with your mom and I’m sorry.  I just hope someday you can forgive me.
 
Thank you if you’ve made it this far in reading this letter. 

Warmest Regards, John

Chastity dropped the letter in her lap, and bent over crying. 
How am I supposed to feel after this?
 

Chastity lifted her head and let out a curdling scream.  It was a scream that let out the anger she held for her father … her anger at herself … and her sorrow for her mom.  As exhausting as it was, she needed to let go and feel it. 

             
It was supposed to make her feel better to vent – to scream, but soon the realization hit that it didn’t. Chastity was kicking herself for breaking her promise and not just for reading the letter, but also for allowing it to get to her.

             
Through her tears, she crumpled the letter up, and shoved it back down into her desk.  After slamming the drawer shut, she did the only thing she could – pick up her Garganega and uncorked the bottle.

Chapter 4

It took Chastity days to recover from not only the roller coaster that the letter left her with, but also the hangover she suffered from. She slept the next two days away in efforts to forget.

             
I never should have opened that darned thing.  What is wrong with me?

             
She groaned and sat up, looking through her dark room.  The blinds were drawn shut, and the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign had been out, which left her two days worth of towels and dirty laundry.

             
Chastity took stock of the empty bottle on her nightstand and a few others that littered the floor around the bed.  Sitting up to hold her head, she reached for the light. 

The torn envelope still sat on her desk.  Barely moving, she slowly walked over and stuck it back in the drawer with the letter to which it belonged.

             
Chastity wanted to place all the blame on John.  She focused as hard as she could on the hate she knew she should feel, but somehow in reading through it – it
humanized
him. She almost felt sorry for the guy, which was an unexpected and unacceptable turn of events.  Chastity flung her hand across the desk, sending the notebooks and pens on top flying across the floor.  As hard as she could, she couldn’t get past the barrier that had been broken in reading the letter.

             
Now I know his history…his story,
she thought staring down into the desk drawer
.  And … I just want to forget.  Forget I ever read that letter and what it said.  You’re a stupid stupid girl Chastity Wayne!

             
She shut the drawer and slowly turned to crawl back into bed.  She pulled the blanket up over her head, and cradled it.  More than anything she wanted to close her eyes and get more sleep, but that stupid letter and its effects left her in a whirlwind.  Now she had no time to completely recover before Timothy’s upcoming visit.  His arrival was supposed to be something to celebrate, but she couldn’t wrap her head around joy at the moment.

             
By day two, her stomach was rebelling at her for the inadequate treatment it had received.  A few snacks, and some bottled water was not enough to live on.  Chastity knew it was time to move forward.  Besides, she had to let it go or else she’d be giving John control.  And that just wasn’t an option, especially when she had three short days until Timothy’s arrival.

             
With no choice but to snap out of it, she made efforts to start a normal day … if there was such a thing.  Today, Chastity was set to move out of her hotel room and into a leased apartment.  With her art classes back in session the next day, she had too much to do with little to no time.

             
Slowly she got up and made her way to the shower.  It was her haven, where she could truly focus and where she found herself praying most days.  Today wasn’t one of those days. 

She turned the water up as hot as she could stand and leaned in, allowing her face and head to be fully submerged.  Chastity drew in a few long breaths and paused.  She needed to find something to focus on, to bring herself back from the hell she’d been living for the past two days.  Her thoughts quickly shifted to her art classes and classmates. 

             
So far she’d made some really good friends here in Italy.  Her current art class was a mixture of cultures.  Students had come from near and far to study at under the renowned Shelly Marquis, a woman who was well known for her melding of talent and drive. 

             
In class, there were some who solely came for the experience that Venice and their art could bring them, and then there were those like Chastity, who had vision and wanted to see what they could bring Venice and the art community.  She wanted to leave an impression and be a part of the art culture when she left, and appreciated those that felt the same.