Not Without My Sister

by Kristina Jones, Celeste Jones, Juliana Buhring

  "Honey, what happened?" It was more an accusation than a question.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I set up this great opportunity for you and you just blew it!"

  "I'm sorry, Dad." I whispered. "I just froze up."

  "Sweetheart, I'm very disappointed in you. I put my neck on the line and I expected a little more from you. You're not going to have a second chance with this one."

  Those words cut me to the heart and I responded angrily. "That's fine, Dad! Be disappointed then. I never can do anything rig& for you anyway!" I ran away from him. He could never just love me for being his daughter.

  Chapter 22

  Celeste

  As I pushed my luggage cart out into the airport lobby, I glanced nervously around, looking for a smiling face, any sign of someone waiting for me. Eighteen hours earlier in Tokyo International airport I had been given an envelope with a plane ticket and $300 and told, "Your plane leaves in forty-five minutes so you'd better get going."

  The moment I was through passport control I looked down eagerly at the ticket in my hand. My eyes fell on the word "Porto." Where on earth is that? I thought as I rushed to the boarding gate. It was only after take off when I heard the pilot mention Portugal that I knew where I was going. I had never been to Portugal and had no idea what to expect, let alone where I would be sleeping that night. My stomach was in a knot the entire flight, a stir of anticipation, excitement, and dread. It was like something out of a spy novel. I was twenty-two years old, and more curious than scared. It was exciting yet terrifying at the same time.

  It was early evening when I walked into the small Porto airport lobby. I spotted them at once, a man and woman standing together, both in their late forties.

  "Welcome, honey." The woman greeted me and proceeded to give me a large hug. I had no idea who she was but there was a certain look that gave her away as a member of the Family—especially a member my parents' age: the overly beaming smile, straight fringe and long hair and little make-up.

  "Did you have a good flight?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "My name is Vicky, and this is Terry," she said smiling. "So, do you know where we are?" Terry asked me. He had silver hair and in his youth would have been a handsome man. "Well, I wasn't sure where Porto was, but this is Portugal, right?" I asked, just to make doubly sure.

  "Yes...we're in Portugal...But do you know what Home this is that you've come to?"

  "Well, I'm pretty sure it's Mama Maria's home," I said. "How did you know?" Terry asked, a little surprised. "Well, I had a hunch," I replied.

  "Isn't it exciting?" Vicky chimed in. "You've come to the Queen's household. You probably won't meet Mama for a few weeks, but Terry and I are the shepherds of the home here and take care of everything."

  Queen Maria was affectionately called "Mama." Her location was always kept secret. All my life I had read about Mama, and every part of my life had been ruled by her dictates, and now...finally... I would get to meet her in per-son. It was considered the highest honor to be chosen to live in her household, the next closest thing to being with God, as she was His voice and representative on earth since Mo's death. But even in her own house, Maria rarely met those working for her. Terry and Vicky were her eyes and ears; they carried out her instructions and ran day-to-day business. It was their job to make sure everyone complied with the rules and had their personal lives "in order" spiritually.

  "We live about a half-hour away in a small village by the beach. When we get in, we'll take you on a tour of the house," Vicky said. Vicky was a bubbly person, a little on the heavy side, rather plain, I thought, but dressed well and she had done a lot of sun tanning by the look of her weathered skin. We drove from the airport to the house in the dark so I could see very little of where the house was located.

  I could not wait to see who lived in Queen Maria's house. I felt like I was about to walk through the dividing curtain, and discover who and what was on the other side. What was it really like at the apex—the heart of the Family? I was about to find out.

  "You'll need to choose a new name for security. Have you thought of any names you would like to be called?" Vicky asked. "If you decide before we get home, then we can intro-duce you by your new name."

  Not again, I thought. I had been Celeste, Rebecca, then Joan, then Joanna, then Claire, than back to Joanna. I was so confused it did not matter to me anymore.

  "Well...I sort of like the name Michelle," I replied.

  In World Services, even more than in the regular Family, you weren't supposed to know anyone's legal name or last name. Security was paramount.

  "Michelle...yes, that's a good name," Vicky replied. "Okay, Michelle..."

  "We're here!" Terry announced, as we drove up to a set of large gates. Once inside, Terry grabbed my one suitcase and Vicky led me through the kitchen entrance. The house was a large villa with an extension on the side. I was taken aback by the size of the living room, which looked more like a hotel lobby. At the far end was a set of mismatched couches and a video set up in the corner. To the left was a large wooden dining table that could sit about twenty-five people.

  "We move so often," Vicky explained, "we don't usually invest in furniture that we have to leave behind. We got these at a secondhand store."

  A magnificent stairway led upstairs. On the second floor a corridor to the left was blocked by a curtain. This led to the inner sanctum—Queen Maria's quarters, which, of course, were off limits. Another spiral staircase led to the third floor, but first I was taken to the extension to the right of the house, which had four additional rooms. At the very end was the visitors" or "date' room. A bowl of fruit was on a table in the corner with a sign saying "welcome" and a double bed with a small table and lamp beside. Terry explained the usual induction procedure for newcomers. I would have three days off to read and get acquainted with the rules of the Queen's Home before starting work. I was tired and it was late, so I fell asleep quickly.

  The next morning, I woke up to the strong smell of the sea and the sound of waves lapping on to the shore. Out of the window I saw the property was right on the beach. The sight was breathtaking. And yet a sadness fell over me. I felt a sense of isolation. It finally sunk in that I was far away from my family and friends; they did not even have a clue where I was or how to contact me. And I could no longer contact them.

  I spent most of that first day reading the large stack of material that had been left for me. Then, around mid-afternoon there was a knock on the door. A woman in her forties introduced herself as Misty and invited me for a walk. I recognized her immediately as I had briefly met her a few years before in Japan—she looked the same except that her waist-long hair had turned almost completely gray. She was my first boyfriend's mother. She had disappeared one day in Japan, just like I had, and no one had known what had happened to her. As we walked in the garden, Misty explained to me some of their projects. She worked with Maria to produce the publications and letters that were sent out bi-monthly to the Family.

  "The Lord is leading the Family in exciting new directions," Misty enthused. "Our dear Lover even recently gave us a special name for the Queen's household in prophecy. He called us the 'House of the Open Pussy!"

  I stopped walking and gulped. I could not believe what I had just heard, but I managed to hide my disgust. Misty went on to explain that Jesus, our Lover, was pouring down his "golden seeds" in such abundance to His insatiable brides who had spread their legs wide to receive it.

  My heart sank. I had hoped that things had changed, and that the focus of our group had moved away from its obsession with sex. I had been invited to come and edit a magazine for children called Heaven's Library and I was eager to do the job and use my creative talents. However, I was not prepared to participate in sexual escapades or vulgar talk and imagery.

  But my worst fears were soon proved right. The "open pussy" analogy was not just a spiritual metaphor, as every-one, married, betrothed, or single was bed-hopping with everyone e
lse. It led, of course, to jealousy among the women especially. I remained determined not to allow anyone to pressure me to have sex with them. Maria had said that Jesus had wanted us to have a "marriage of the generations," but the thought of having sex with many of the same men who had violated me when I was just a little girl was repulsive. As I listened to Misty, I had flashbacks of having to perform oral sex on men as a child. I would not be bullied or guilt-tripped into that again, no matter what. I made that a solemn promise to myself. In fact, I had thrown away every mini-skirt and short top I owned and packed only baggy, conservative clothes.

  I was even more nervous when Misty showed me a gold ring on her finger and said that in a few days I would have a "marriage" ceremony and be given a ring to symbolize my union with King Peter and Queen Maria. Dear God, it better not involve any sex, I thought, as I remembered Armi and her ceremony with Mo and Maria that was a physical union and not just a metaphor.

  "What's going to happen at the ceremony?" I asked gingerly.

  "It will be during a fellowship. You'll kneel and say a pledge to the King and Queen. Don't worry, we all did it." Relieved that there would be no sex required, I went through with the ceremony in front of the whole Home on the following Sunday.

  The next evening Vicky informed me that the owner of the house and his family were coming for dinner so I should stay in my room and that my meal would be brought to me.

  We had to stay out of sight while he visited. He owned a large casino in town and was well known in the area.

  There were only three young men in Mama's house; one of them, Vince, had a small room right across the b all from me. We started chatting, and he offered to keep me company. He brought up our dinner and two glasses of wine and we ended up talking for a couple of hours.

  Over the next few days, as I got acquainted with my new job, Vince and I spent more time talking. He was an excellent carpenter and carver and showed me a beautiful bedside lamp he had made out of a large seashell he had found on the beach. One evening, after staying up late talking, he finally said goodnight and left my room. A few minutes later, I knocked on his door. Dressed only in a short T-shirt, I said "good-night" to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  A few minutes later, I heard a knock on my door. It was Vince-eager to finish what I had started. I had in my purse a condom I had brought with me from Japan, but it broke. We went ahead anyway without protection. I figured I was due in a few days so I would be safe.

  Things escalated from that point on, and Vince kept coming to my room every night. After about two weeks, I started to worry that he was getting too attached, as he was already talking about marriage. I was looking for friendship and solace, not something serious.

  Vince must have "confessed" to Terry and Vicky that we were having sex because I was called in for a "chat."

  "We've heard that you've been having dates with Vince. He seems to be quite taken with you, and we're wondering how you feel about it?" Vicky asked me.

  "Well, yeah ...I like him," I replied. I was embarrassed about discussing my personal life with people I barely knew.

  "Vince told us you've been having unprotected sex. You realize the consequences, don't you?" Vicky raised her eye-brows for effect.

  "Yeah...," I stammered.

  "It's not really recommended that you get involved with someone so soon on coming here. You need time to get to know everyone and bond with the team. Vince has been sharing with Jackie, you know. She's been a dedicated member of Mama's team for over twenty years," she explained.

  I learned quickly that there was most definitely a pecking order. In fact, Maria made it a policy that after a scheduled date, the younger woman had to write a "thank you" note to the older woman who was the partner of the man. Jackie was a woman in her early fifties and had been a lover of my father some fifteen years earlier when he was in World Services. Dad had talked about Jackie to me over the years and had even shown me a thong that she had given him as a keepsake. Jackie had talked to me only a few days before and told me stories about my father when he lived with them, and she still remembered him fondly.

  I cringed when I heard that Vince was having sex with my father's ex-lover at the same time as with me. It was beyond what I could accept.

  Vicky interrupted my thoughts. "We don't want her to get jealous, or for this new friendship you two have to interfere with Vince and Jackie. Besides, you should tell Vince that you need to share with the other men, too."

  I did not respond, other than give an unintelligible grunt. I had no intention of having sex with anyone else, but I would keep that to myself. I left as quickly as possible. But it started me thinking. I thought I fancied Vince, but now I was not so sure. Was I Prepared to get pregnant, marry him and spend the rest of my life with him in World Services? The thought scared me more than anything. I had jumped in way too fast and now I wanted out. I knew telling him would break his heart.

  The next night Vince came into my room, and though I wanted to say no, that I needed some time and space, I could not do it. I'll wait and tell him next week, I thought.

  But it was too late. I was already pregnant.

  I was throwing up everything and feeling sick as a dog. I could not hide it any longer and had to tell someone. It was one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do. Vince started to wonder what was going on, as I was being very stand-offish, so I had to tell him.

  "I'm pregnant, Vince," I said finally, "but I can't do this. I can't continue our relationship. I don't mind being friends, but I can't give you more. It wouldn't be fair to you to lie. I don't see a future for us."

  Those words hurt him deeply. I could see it from his expression, from his body language. He had told me how he had been praying for a wife and he wanted to be a father so desperately; he thought my arrival was the answer to his prayers, his Godsend, and now I was telling him that it wasn't going to happen. I felt worse than I had ever felt in my life. I did not want to hurt him. If there was any way I could have made myself love him, return his love, to want his child, I would. But I could not. I could not even fake it. I knew then and there that I had to leave, to get out from that place. Vince's loyalties lay with World Services and I was not going to raise a child in isolation, apart from my family.

  By seven weeks, I could barely crawl to the bathroom. I kept nothing down, not even water, and I was getting severely dehydrated. My weight dropped dangerously to 47 kilos. I could do nothing but toss and turn on my bed. The nights were long, lonely, and agonizing. All I could do was think, reflect and pray that I would have the strength to make it through another torturous day.

  I wept, begging Terry and Vicky to let me go back to Japan. I missed my family terribly and I wanted to tell them what was happening to me, but I was told that I could not.

  "We just brought you here so it's too soon to go back. When you came here, you knew it would be a commitment. Just hang on, okay?" Vicky told me.

  I was not allowed to write to anyone to say that I was pregnant, as they said it would reflect badly on them. I felt totally isolated, There were times I wanted to die; nights when I cried for endless hours wishing this were all a bad dream. At nine weeks I was near death, and had to be taken to hospital and put on a drip for three days. I recovered enough for Terry and Vicky to take me home, but relapsed again and stayed bedridden for six months. I had low blood pressure, severe heartburn and anaemia. The doctor warned there was a high risk of severe blood loss during childbirth.

  Finally, on August 9, 1998, Cherie was born. After eighteen hours of labor, I was exhausted but happy it was over. When I held her in my arms, she hummed sweetly. Cherie was my "little miracle." Despite everything, she was a healthy 4.1 kilos with the chubbiest cheeks I'd ever seen. The hospital staff nicknamed her "Gordo," which means "fat" in Portuguese.

  I loved everything about being a parent, but my difficult pregnancy had left me traumatized. I didn't know at the time that I had the rare condition hyperemesis gravidarum, and that my mother and
Auntie Caryn had suffered the same condition during their pregnancies. I could not bare the thought of ever going through another pregnancy again or being physically intimate with anyone. Vince shared the responsibility of caring for our child, but we were not a couple. At first I didn't want Vince to be part of her life as I feared he would expect too much of me, but I changed my mind when I thought about my childhood and how much I wanted a relationship with both my Mum and Dad. I resolved that no matter what differences we had between us, Cherie deserved to know her father.

  I had come to World Services to work, so soon after Cherie's birth I went back to editing Heaven's Library stories, while a Brazilian woman named Tina baby-sat her, or Techi, Maria's daughter, who had a three-year-old son. But my resolve to leave World Services had not changed. There were people in World Services who triggered painful memories. Dan, whom I had lived with in the Philippines with his now ex-wife, Tina, worked for Activated, the Family's monthly magazine sold to the public. I was a firsthand witness to his cruelty in violently beating my little sister Juliana and his wife and children. Did he realize and was he sorry for the scars that he had left and the damage he had done?