The Unfilial Daughter - Chapter 27

The two large white candlesticks erected on opposites sides of the alter softly illuminated the chapel. The gentle glow washed the spacious room with peace and harmony.

But kneeling before the enormous wooden cross with her hands tightly entwined together, partially hidden by her unruly hair, the silhouette of Carina Chung's beautiful features etched of unrest. In a long black overcoat her normally voluptuous body seem weak and frail.

It had become her habit to seek salvation in the small church, sometimes even before the first morning rays, each time after awakening drenched with cold sweat; still plagued by the horrid nightmares that haunted her night after night, her own screams matching the female screams in her bewildered mind.

It was always the same.

A pair of strong white lights flashed quickly, blinding her. When her vision returned that woman was on the ground. Her once flawless complexion stained by fresh blood. Her once twinkling eyes pleaded desperately for help.

Twenty years since that horrid night.

Twenty years since she bared that dark secret alone.

Fresh burnings tears fell from her closed eyes, and ran down the sides of her flawless face.

Why did she have to go out that night?

Why did she have to follow her husband out?

The silly hope of obtaining her husband's love had diminished long ago. Years came and went but his indifferent attitude was always the same; ever so courtesy, even thoughtful at times, but love, there will never be.

Even their two beautiful children were products of obligation, not love.

To him, the world consisted of so much, of the woman he never stopped loving, of the business he never stopped fighting for. But for her, the world only consisted of three people, him and their two children.

It was the love for her small family that condemned her to the deepest parts of hell. Had she know then that no amount of time would bind his heart to her, she would not sinned. Had she known then what she knew now, she would have granted him his freedom.

But it was all too late.

Her sins could never be forgiven.

Her luscious lips departed and took in a heavy-hearted breath. Slowly her head raised and eyelids folded. In the gentle light her delicate features, barely touched by the years, radiated but her heart contained only of emptiness.

Life had long lost meaning for her. Had it not been the existence of her two children, her only remaining comfort, she would have gladly used her life to repay her sins. It was for them that she lived on. They were all she had left in the world after the death of her parents.

When they suffered, she suffered.

When they rejoiced, she rejoiced.

Through them, she continued to live.

Of the two, it had always been her younger daughter that caused her to worry most. A result of unconditional pampering by the entire family, Gillian had been stubborn and headstrong since a young age. It came as no surprise to Carina when she ran away rather than give into a loveless marriage. In reality, she had known she would and allowed her the opportunity. No mother could bear to see their own daughter walk the same painful road as they had.

But now the one she worried for was Kenny. Different from his younger sister, her son had always been quiet and observant. His strength lay not in words but actions. To fulfill his father's wish to preserve the family business, he gave up dreams of being a doctor without muttering a single word of complaint. Even when it was evident that it was his constant preoccupation with work that had eventually caused a drift between himself and his wife until he finally lost her, he still continued to endure in silence.

As surprising as it might has been at least her daughter and son-in-law found in each other partners to continue their journey through life. But whom did her son have?

Behind her, the first rays were just seeping through the beautifully tinted glass panels, projecting colorful shadows on to the rows of benches below. Outside, the birds were chirping and the squirrels were running about. All over the earth was coming to life once again.

Unbeknownst to her, the Day of Judgment was nearing.

But her sins would be repaid not only by her own tears but the tears of her beloved children as well.

*

The dim dark skies had brightened into a light shade of blue, sparsely covered with feathery white clouds.

All along the sandy shores, large white seagulls circled over the turmoil morning waters, calling to one another, sharing indecipherable secrets.

The constant companions of the sea were already awake and alert.

But it was just the opposite inside the ranch-style beach house, where all was still and the only movement came from the light blue curtains hung over the open bedroom window, blown gently by the soothing ocean breeze. Day light was beginning to seep in. With each passing second the early morning rays invaded a bit more of the calm darkness; revealing from the shadows the serene faces of the handsome couple that laid comfortably in each other's arms, drawing from each other's warmth, still in the land of sweet dreams.

With her head still resting on her husband's smooth broad chest, Gillian was the first to stir; her eyes unwillingly met the neon red numbers displayed on the digital alarm clock by the nightstand.

6:53 AM

The time to awakening was approaching. And yet, the warm embrace of her husband and the soft cotton flannel sheets were too tempting to depart from. Just another minute, she told herself and buried her face into the nuke of her husband's neck, inhaling his familiar musky scent.

Minutes passed one after another until she could prolong no more. Using her right elbow to prop herself up, her head rested lazily onto her hand while her gaze swept admiringly up and down the chiseled features of her husband; moving her eyes from his smooth forehead down to his strong jaw line; drinking in the sight of his peaceful expression. While her own glowed of love and contentment.

Unable to resist temptation, she gently ran her soft fingers down the side of his face, acutely aware of the roughness by his chin. The platinum diamond wedding band on her fourth finger sparkled in the dim lighting.

"Time to wake up sleepyhead," she whispered, placing a kiss on his soft warm lips. "It's passed seven already."

After a few more feathery kisses, he began to stir. With his eyes still closed, his lips curved into a lazy grin.

His half-awaken expression made her heart flutter. "Come on, time to wake up. We have a lot to do today."

"I'm sure it can wait a bit longer," he said slowly, in a deep and husky voice, pulling her into a meaningful kiss and sliding his hands around her soft body.

It was close to noon when they arrived at the mid-sized supermarket. Their passionate escapade had set their schedules back by hours but the sweet smiles on their faces revealed no complaints.

"Kiwis. My favorite," Gillian exclaimed almost like a young child, quickening her steps to where a large wooden stand stacked with the brown-colored fruit stood.

The fruit hadn't always been her favorite, far from it. Her first taste of the odd fruit was at the age of one. Her mother had given her a small piece and she had spitted it out almost immediately; abhorred by the sourness, never even the opportunity to sample the sweet center.

Once you get pass the sour exterior you will be able to taste the sweetness inside, her mother would say, but each and every time, she would swiftly flee when offered a piece.

It wasn't until adulthood in New York that she finally began to appreciate this peculiar fruit. It was the close similarities that the fruit held to life that intrigued her the most -- a bit of sweetness surrounded by a lot of sourness. Each cringing bite served as a reminder of hope, of her mother's words.

Luckier than most, she was born into a family that offered more love and luxury than some people could ever imagine. The princess -- that was what her older brother always called her because the entire household from parents and brother to the staff members; all catered to her every whim.

But such happiness could not last forever.

Rather it seemed her suffering was only multiplied by her good fortune. Roughly eighteen, she was forced to flee to New York all alone, having no one but herself. For the first time in her life, she was struck hard by reality.

So many of nights, she broke down in tears, not knowing how to face the next day, not knowing what the future would hold.

Her once color-filled world became monotone and cold.

How she wanted to return to Hong Kong, return to her family. Yet, that was no longer an option, not since her father publicly disowned her.

There was no turning back.

But who would imagine she would eventually marry the same man she had tried so hard to run away from. And ironically, she felt no regrets.

The raw texture of the brown skin felt slightly ticklish and familiar against her soft hand. The clear plastic bag she was holding was already half way filled when the distinct sound of turning wheels approached. Behind the metal cart containing their groceries, dressed in beige turtleneck and black leather jacket paired with vintage-washed blue jeans, her husband moved with ease and grace; his eyes twinkled as they rested on her.

Just a year ago, the thought of her husband strolling casually through a supermarket was unimaginable. Yet, the simple trip had become part of their weekly life. Sometimes, to sample fresh seafood they even ventured into the loud and dirty outdoor marketplace by the pier.

Her lips automatically curved into a sweet smile. "How about a kiwi shake later?"

"Sure," he answered then teased, "At least, you can't burn a shake."

He was deliberately badgering her for accidentally burning their dinner last night. But despite his teasing comments, he cleaned up the plate of meatloaf that had nearly turned to charcoal with a grin. It was the same when he would insists on washing the dishes or cleaning the windows, claiming her small petite physique was inferior to his when in actuality, he didn't want her delicate hands to dry from the strong washing liquid or itch from the powder inside the plastic domestic gloves.

That was the way her husband was, unlike others whose emotions ran along their lips, his were always buried deep in his heart.

After playfully rolling her eyes, she took another kiwi into her hand, squeezing it lightly before deciding that it was ripe enough to purchase. Then raising the plastic bag containing close to a dozen kiwis, she turned to her husband. "Okay, that should be enough. What else do we need?"

His broad shoulders shrugged carelessly leaving her to reciprocate with a small disbelief shake of her head and a playful dry smile and meaningful glare.

Despite living alone for many years, her husband had been entirely reliant on his sister and nanny to stock his shelves and clean his sheets, absolutely ignorant to what was necessary to run a household. He was only too happy to have her to make all the choices.

Quickly, she scanned the packed cart. "I think that's about it. Let's go, we still have to go the nursery later. Leila can't handle all the work by herself."

The ride back to the house to drop off the groceries went rather quickly, in a blink of an eye, the short path leading to the glass structure was approaching and the metal gates were in plain view.

The bushes of carnations in front.

The large willow tree on the right side.

Everything about the nursery was the same as the first time she stepped foot on this paradise but the most important element was no longer there.

Her sister-in-law.

But despite her absence, her essence was still so strong; so strong that Gillian half-expected her to push open the glass door to greet them but of course that would not happen.

Never again.

Much had transpired since her return to Hong Kong over two years ago. But none was more painful than her sister-in-law's death. Someone so sweet, so genuine, did not deserve to die so tragically. Even now, close to a year later, it still felt surreal.

As if everything was just a horrible dream, only it really wasn't.

But the taste of mourning was not hers alone.

From time to time, during the middle of the night, she would awake to find her husband missing. And when she wandered around the quiet house in search of his whereabouts, she would always find him in the room that his sister had once occupied. Standing in front of the wide glass window, staring into the dark night, he looked so alone, so vulnerable. She imagined that replaying in his mind were the carefree days of his childhood with his sister on the sandy beach, only to be awaken from the beautiful memories to the realization that the laughter and smiles would never be again.

With her slender arms wrapped around his warm body, neither would speak. There was no need to. They both felt the loss.

Karena was gone.

It was doubtful her husband would ever forgive his father for the role he played in his sister's death. And yet, she knew her husband could never separate himself from the older man.

Blood could never be separated.

Despite the anxiousness in her voice, Leila still smiled brightly. "I'm so glad you two are here. The shipment is for the day after next and I only have a quarter of the plants packed."

The young girl had been hired after her sister-in-law's death. Had it not been for her help, the nursery could not have continued to function.

"Okay, let's get started then. What should we do?" Gillian asked smiling at Leila then turned to meet the eyes of husband.

The sweet girl carefully instructed them on what needed to be done.

While she placed the small pots of plants into the large crates, her husband stacked them away, ready to be shipped off.

As hours passed, the sunlight that had once filled the glass structure began to recede, leaving only the cold white light from the halogen lamps hung above their heads.

"Look at you," she said after her husband stacked a filled crate onto another one. Then with a gentle hand, she brushing off some dirt from her husband's flawless complexion, earning a slanted grin from him.

"Ahh," Leila muttered as she stretched her arms upwards over her head. "Can't believe we packed more than half of the plants already."

The area by the door that was empty before was now filled with stacks of crates, small pieces of green still visible through the openings.

"Let's call it a day then," Gillian looked from her husband to Leila, "it's already well pass your leaving time."

"Oh that's alright. I don't mind," the other girl once again flashed a warm and carefree smile.

This time it was Edison that spoke, "Gill's right. It's getting late. Why don't we start again early tomorrow?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. We'll finish up tomorrow," Gillian chimed in.

Dark clouds filled the night skies by the time they reached their cars and exchanged parting words. The poorly lit road was barely visible in the absence of the usual bright moon and twinkling stars. Despite the corduroy jacket that was snug around her petite body, and the small quantity of heat expelled from the vents of the silver Mercedes, she still felt the evening chill. Absentmindedly, she began to rub her hands together, seeking to keep them warm.

But less than a minute after her hands touched, unease grew from the inside of her chest; unknown fear crept into her heart. Adverting her eyes downwards instantly, she noticed the bareness on her left hand.

Her wedding band was missing.

The band was part of a set, one belonging to herself and the other to her husband. Together, they were silent witnesses of their marriage, metallic symbols of their commitment. And now hers was missing.

"Oh no!" she cried.

"Chipped another nail?" Her husband teased, glancing over from the top of the black leather covered steering wheel.

"No," she cried, not in the mood to joke. "My wedding band is missing. It was still there before when I was making coffee."

"It must have slipped off when you were packing the plants," he said, taking her hand into his own. "Don't worry, we'll find it tomorrow."

Reluctantly, her head slowly nodded but her heart continued to pound feverishly.

Tomorrow.