Trials and Tribulation

Riva sat reading her Bible in her tiny apartment.  Outside the wind was blowing an icy rain against the windows, but inside a fire was starting to burn deep within her.

 

“I will call them ‘my people’ who are not my people; and I will call her ‘my loved one’ who is not my loved one,” and “It will happen that in the very place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’ they will be called ‘sons of the living God.’”

 

Isaiah cries out concerning Israel: 

“Though the number of the Israelites be like the sand by the sea, only the remnant will be saved.  For the Lord will carry out his sentence with speed and finality.”  Romans 9: 25-28.

 

“Why,” she asked herself, “did this seem to speak so profoundly to her today?”  She had returned from her holiday visit to the farm two days ago. Since then, she had spent much of her waking hours poring over the Bible in her hands.  She flipped back and forth between the Old and New Testaments rereading sections.  Words seemed to leap out at her as if they were in bold print.  She knew, truly knew, that God was reaching out to her through His Word.

 

She closed the book and set it in her lap.  She had to make a choice.  She had been headed toward this moment for months and had tried to reason some way out of it or around it.  If she decided to follow Christ, could she continue to live as she was, or would she need to move to the farm?  She just couldn’t go and leave Yaffa alone.  Should she try to convince the few friends she had at the Synagogue that Jesus was the Messiah?

 

Riva felt like her heart was breaking, and finally sobs poured out of her.  When she had regained control, she reopened the Bible and found the area about becoming a Christian.  She poured out her heart to God, asked Him to forgive her, and to fill her with His Spirit.  She asked Jesus into her heart to be her Messiah and save her.  Over and over she thanked Jesus for being there for her when she hadn’t even been willing to acknowledge Him.  She thanked God for bringing her to Indiana and putting Jose on the same plane.  She thanked Him for the families of Coram Deo and their unconditional love.  She prayed that He would give her direction for the next steps in her life.

 

When she had finished, she turned out the light, pulled an afghan over herself, and fell asleep in the recliner.

 

Riva was walking down a gray and gloomy hallway that was lined with doors.  People sat in wheelchairs along the hallway, and the silence was occasionally broken by a cry from behind a closed door.  The hallway seemed to go on for miles.  Finally, as exhaustion set in, she looked for a room to fall asleep.

 

She opened a door and saw a bare room with a lone hospital bed with starched white sheets.  A malodorous scent filled the room.  She closed the door and resumed her trek down the hall.  A little further down, she opened another door to find a red haired boy.  The boy sat up in the bed and began screaming vulgar words and obscenities at her. His piercing gaze locked onto her and froze her in place for a few seconds.  With super-human strength, she slammed the door shut and began to run down the hall.  Two men in black suits began coming toward her from the end of the hall.  Their appearance frightened her, and she started to turn around to find another way, but the red haired boy was coming towards her with his green eyes sending out terrifying beams.

 

Riva awoke drenched in sweat and short of breath.  She fell to her knees by the chair.  “Lord, what are you trying to tell me?  I’ve never been so frightened in my life.  I wanted direction, and instead I feel like the forces of Hell are chasing me.”  Riva stood up, went to take a shower, and put on her pajamas.  She hadn’t eaten for hours, but wasn’t sure she could with the images from the nightmare fresh in her memory.

 

She hated being alone, if only Yaffa could have come for a few days.

 

Across town

 

Yaffa lay very still on her bed.  She could just barely hear the TV downstairs.  She had just spent her winter school break filling out college applications to more than twenty schools with strong art and literature programs.  Her father had come to her room this evening and announced that he had made a decision.  She would be attending Kent State University in the fall, majoring in business and finance.

 

She didn’t even know where Kent State was, and she had no desire to pursue a business career.  He surely knew that her interest was not in business, but didn’t seem to care.

 

He said there was no way she could make a living as a starving artist or writer.  College was expensive.  He had taken the reins.  Lisa had filled out the application, and Yaffa had already been accepted.

 

Yaffa had stood there looking at him strangely.  He had finally thrown the letter on the bed, yelled at her about a lack of gratitude, and stormed out. She had immediately gotten to her computer and researched the university.  It was in Ohio, almost in Pennsylvania.  It had to be a good six or seven hours away.  Furthermore, it was huge.  She wanted a small college where she could find some way to fit in.

 

She had gone to her dad with the information that it would be difficult to get back and forth with the gas rationing.  She pointed out that a local school would be cheaper, and she could live at home.

 

“There are buses,” Cecil had said. “You don’t need to take very much.  Your room will be furnished, and your meals will be in the cafeteria.  We can ship some winter clothes to you.  You can surely handle two suitcases and your backpack on the bus.  Lots of people are traveling by bus.”

 

“But I won’t get to come home very often,” Yaffa had argued.

 

“Yes, you will.  You’ll come home at winter break and for the summers, unless you get a job there, or decide to take summer classes,” Cecil had countered.

 

“What about grandmother?”

 

“This has nothing to do with her.  You need to get away so you can make friends and gain some independence.  You spend entirely too much time with that old woman,” Lisa had interjected.

 

Yaffa had turned away and ran up the stairs to her room.  She heard her father berate Lisa’s lack of tact, but knew that her grandmother was one of the reasons she was being sent away.  Her father had been furious when he discovered that he had no control of Riva’s money.  Grandmother had told him she would gladly move back to Miami, but her father hadn’t wanted her to get that far away.

 

Yaffa longed to call her grandmother and pour out her heart, but did not want to worry her.  She felt trapped.  Someday, she would get away from her father’s control and make her own decisions.  Perhaps, she and grandmother would find a little house to live in together, but her current situation left her no choice; she had to comply with her father’s wishes.

 

Washington

 

President Nomed waved the report in the air like a flag at a parade.  “This is incredible.  We’ll have Europe begging at our feet before this is over.”

 

“Sir, do you really feel that we should be capitalizing on the hardships of other countries?  The shoe could just as easily be on the other foot.  Europe is in a desperate situation,” Henry stated as he looked to Stella for support.

 

Stella studied him before speaking, “Henry, did aliens come and take over your brain?  If the shoe was on the other foot, Kakasides would have us groveling.  This is about world leadership.  In the old days, the churches would have been sticking their noses into this and running over there to build houses and sending supplies.  Fortunately, we have those elements eliminated, or at least severely restrained, at the moment.  President Nomed can handle these situations in a way that most benefits the United States.”

 

“Thank you, Stella.  It is always so refreshing to know that you can cut to the heart of the situation and assess it,” President Nomed stated.  “Henry, your face is twitching, again.  Why are you so incapable of understanding what is going on in the world?  Obviously, the leadership of this country has put it in a favorable position.  Now we must capitalize on it.  Call it luck, fate, or whatever.  Stella, I want a 200% mark-up on all that planting equipment that Kakasides has ordered.  Also, we’ll need to mark up the grain in transit.  To appease Henry, we’ll only mark it up 75%.  Does that make you feel better, Henry?”

 

“Mr. President, while we’re speaking on grain.  We need to do what we can to encourage our own farmers to increase production.  If we are going to be able to feed our own country adequately, as well as have sufficient quantities to sell to the other parts of the world, we need to be sharing the profits more equitably.  Last year, production was down which should have increased demand, but prices were some of the lowest in the last ten years.  Farmers are going to be hard pressed to plant more unless they are given some type of guaranteed price.  The consumer cost was extremely high, despite the low profit to the farmers.  It seems the processors and retailers jacked up prices to gain an unfair portion of the profits.  The populace is discouraged with high costs and low employment.  Unhappy constituents are never good when you’re getting close to an election.”

 

“I appreciate your concern, Henry, and I’ll look into your suggestions.  In fact, there is a group of Iowa corn growers waiting to talk with me.  Why don’t you go out and greet them?  Get a feel for what would appease them.  I’ll finish here with Stella, and you can brief me in twenty minutes before I have them shown in.”

 

Henry stood up and tried to grasp whether this was a positive sign, or if he was being sent off to do busy work.  He left his briefcase and stack of notes seated on the desk.

 

Stella waited patiently for the door to close behind Henry before speaking, “I don’t think you have much respect for Henry’s contributions.”

 

“Nor do you.  He is a valuable asset despite his Goody-Two-Shoes mindset.  We can use him to find out what the minimums are that will keep people placated.  The minimums are all I intend to dispense.  How are we coming on eradicating the rebel units?”

 

“Things are going extremely well.  I’ve been working with several military bases in various parts of the country.  They’ve been instructed to maintain a low-profile.  Several enclaves were used as practice for elite forces.  They were told that the people living there were terrorist cells.  Nothing has ever reached the press about the maneuvers.  It’s a slow process this way, but I hope to have things wrapped up within the year.  As Henry said, there is an election coming up, and we wouldn’t want any negative publicity.”

 

“I’m sure you have the situation under control,” President Nomed replied confidently.  “How has your research about Kakasides and his cronies progressed, have you found any kinks in the armor?”

 

“Not yet.  I have my best private investigator in Paris working on it.  It’s just a matter of time.”

 

“As always, well done, Stella.”

 

January of year 3 - Italy

 

Carmela glanced nervously around the courtroom as she sat by Franco.  Nickolas was sitting in the front row of the viewing area with Maria next to him.  Carmela had requested that Teresa, Carlo, Elena, and baby Bella not attend the hearing.  She had also asked Father Giuseppe to wait with them at the house in case there was any problem.

 

Bruno and his attorney sat across the aisle.  The attorney was talking quietly with Bruno.  She saw Bruno shake his head no several times and smack his hand against the table.  The red-haired woman that Carmela now knew to be his mistress sat in the third row with an older distinguished looking man that Carmela guessed to be her father.

 

“I see that Giorgio has even turned out for this.”  Franco said as he followed Carmela’s gaze.

 

“Who is he?”

 

Franco looked at her in disbelief, “You have chosen to isolate yourself from all that’s happened, haven’t you my dear?”

 

Carmela looked at him in confusion.

 

“Giorgio is the secretary of agriculture.  He’s also Angela’s father.  That’s how Bruno got his fancy appointment.”

 

“So you feel he approves of Bruno?” asked Carmela as she turned to study the man more thoroughly.

 

“From what I’ve heard about his daughter, he would approve of anyone who got her off his hands and out of his house.  She’s been quite an embarrassment to him over the years,” confided Franco.

 

“But he’s here now and seems supportive.”

 

“He probably wants to witness everything for himself instead of reading it in the tabloids.  The man in the back row to the left is a reporter for Chi.  Surely you remember some of the articles in the past about Angela?”

 

Carmela shook her head negatively and looked confused.  “I never read those magazines.”

 

Franco smiled condescendingly before answering, “Bruno’s lady friend has been married three times.  The first when she ran away with a Peruvian millionaire’s son at age sixteen.  They couldn’t even speak each other’s languages.  Her father had that annulled in three months.  The second time, at nineteen, she married a French pornographic film star.  She then had a tryst with a woman from the United States that caused the end of her second marriage.  At 27, she wed an 84 year old duke from somewhere that I no longer recall.  He lived two weeks after the marriage.  She and his children had quite the scandal over his money and titles.  Her father probably met Bruno and arranged the appointment as an exchange for him keeping Angela out of the spotlight.”

 

“She certainly hasn’t lived up to her name, has she?” Carmela asked in amazement.

 

“No disrespect to you, Carmela, or to Elena, but I think Bruno may have finally met his match.  I think Angela’s desire for the spotlight and excitement, and Bruno’s desire for money and control, could make for some interesting events,” Franco suggested.

 

“I don’t envy either of them.”

 

The judge came into the courtroom and seated himself on the dais.  Bruno’s attorney spoke first and tried to have the case dropped on the grounds that it was being presented by a desperate woman who was trying to willfully go against her own father’s wishes for the distribution of his estate.  He told the judge that Carmela had displayed no interest in the business or property until recently.  She was now trying to wrangle it away from her hard working husband because he had found a more worthy companion.  He painted Carmela as a lazy woman who spent her husband’s money and wasn’t even willing to fix his meals herself.  The attorney told the judge that Carmela had turned the couple’s only son against his father and was now preventing him from attending college as his father wished.

 

Carmela glanced at Nickolas and saw that Maria had rested her hand against his arm in an effort to restrain and calm him.  Nickolas’ face was set in a hard scowl as he glared at Bruno.  Carmela momentarily wished she had requested he stay at home, also.

 

Franco got up to speak and she turned her attention to him.  He reminded the judge about the presentation of the recent will that Bruno had produced, and he stated that his client was willing to accept that will because they had no way of disproving it.  He pointed out that the will allowed for joint ownership at this point and requested that the judge evaluate the property list and give his client half of the estate.  He pointed out that Carmela had successfully fulfilled government contracts in Bruno’s absence and had therefore showed herself as a capable business partner. He produced signed affidavits from Nickolas, Romeo, and several of the other workers that supported Carmela’s ability to handle the business.  There was also one that Nickolas chose to help his mother with the produce business instead of starting college.  The papers also showed that Bruno had disappeared, without warning, leaving Carmela to make business decisions on her own.  Nothing was said about the abuse that Carmela or Elena had suffered from Bruno, or about his illegitimate child.

 

Franco had explained to Carmela that the judge would listen to the case and then set a date for delivering his decision.  Carmela sat quietly admiring old Franco’s calm style of addressing the court.  Bruno’s attorney had painted her in a negative light; Franco had portrayed her as a competent woman and had avoided criticism of Bruno.

 

The judge picked up the papers before him and studied them several minutes.  He shuffled through them again looking for a specific page before finding it.  His eyes scanned the document repeatedly.  He turned to Franco and asked, “Are you sure you are willing to accept this will as a valid document?”

 

“Your Honor, we have no way to disprove that will.  You also have in your possession the will that I wrote for my client’s father two days before.  You can see that the wills are very diverse.  The will that Mr. Caruso has produced appears to have all the valid stamps upon it.  With the absence of any other evidence, we are forced to accept the will with the later date,” Franco stated.

 

The judge looked at Bruno’s attorney, “Mr. Sergio, are you in agreement that at this point all property is considered jointly owned?”

 

Bruno’s attorney looked at Bruno and back at the judge, “Sir, my client has filed for divorce.  In a short time, the courts will grant that divorce and all property with the exception of the house and ten acres will then belong to my client.  It would create an unfair hardship upon my client at this point to expect him to surrender half of what he is rightfully entitled to.”

 

The judge looked hard at Bruno and his attorney.  He was an older man, and he planned to step down from his position and retire soon.  He felt deep within his being that if he sided with Bruno, he would be rewarded well, either by Bruno, or by the secretary of agriculture he had spotted in the audience.  He was well aware of the actors involved.

 

He had always been a man of justice.  The will in front of him seemed to offer the answer to a question that had troubled him for years.  He knew that if he followed his heart, his life as he knew it might be over, but somehow there seemed no other choice he could tolerate.

 

The judge spent several minutes perusing the stack of documents.  Franco could feel the sweat glistening on his forehead as he hastily wrote a note to Carmela.  He’s going to make the ruling today.  I’m so sorry.

 

Carmela read the note and reached into her pocketbook for a tissue.  She looked over at Nickolas, and tried to picture the happy little boy he had been, and not the young man with the angry set to his jaw.  They would go away and start over.  Hopefully, Teresa and her family would join them.  The seven of them would build a life together.  Perhaps in time, Maria and Nickolas would marry and start their own family.  It would be enough.

 

The judge cleared his throat and took a sip of water before speaking, “In light of the information presented to this court, I have decided to make my ruling at this time.  Mr. Caruso has obviously been in charge of the produce company for the majority of the time since the death of the deceased.  It is also my understanding that he is listed as the sole owner of Caruso produce; therefore, the time in which Mrs. Caruso was conducting business she was acting as an employee and not as a joint owner.”

 

Bruno triumphantly patted the table and turned to smile at Angela and her father.  Carmela sat very erect in her chair and willed her heart to slow down its racing.

 

The judge continued, “Part of running a successful produce company is obviously having the land to raise the produce.  I have accepted the values stated for the ground, vineyards and equipment.  Since the will states that upon the deceased’s death everything is to be owned jointly, I am ordering Mr. Caruso, at this time, to pay one-half the value of the estate to Mrs. Caruso, and he will be the sole owner of the house, grounds, vineyard, and equipment.  Mr. Caruso, you will have thirty days to comply with my orders.  During those thirty days, Mrs. Caruso, you and your son, if he chooses to go with you, must vacate the premises.  You may take with you your personal belongings, but all furniture and business records must stay with the house.  If you have not received your full payment in thirty days, this court is to be informed, and Mr. Caruso will be held in contempt of this court.  Mr. Caruso, you may operate the produce business during the thirty days, but you may not enter the house or in any way interfere with or hamper Mrs. Caruso’s plans to relocate.  Also, Mr. Caruso, you may not sell or damage the house or the vineyards between now and the conclusion of your divorce proceedings as those will become the property of Nickolas Caruso at that time.  This court has made its ruling.”

 

Bruno jumped up and began to yell threats at the judge who was leaving the chamber.  His attorney and a bailiff tried to restrain him as he threw the bailiff to the floor.  Angela was also on her feet yelling and kicking the chair in front of her as her father tried to calm her.  The reporter from Chi was rapidly taking notes and grinning.

 

Carmela sat stunned at the outcome.  Franco leaned over to hug her, and Nickolas jumped over the small divider to reach her.

 

“You’ll never get a penny from me,” Bruno shouted at Carmela as his attorney pushed him from the courtroom.

 

“Mother, we can start over somewhere.  This is far better than I ever would have dreamed,” Nickolas said as he tried to comfort his sobbing mother.  “It’s only a house, with some land, we have each other.”

 

“I know.  These are happy tears.”

 

Back in his private office, the judge removed his robe and sat at his desk.  He had made the right decision.  It might cost him more than he wanted to pay, but he would be at peace with it.  The peace that his cousin, Antonio, had not had twelve years ago.  Antonio had told him that he had written a false will for a large sum of money that would cover his gambling debts and free him from the threats his creditors were making.  This will was written just two days before Antonio had been found hanging from a fan in his bedroom.  The death was ruled suicide, but the judge had always wondered if it had been the work of the local mob.  The judge felt certain that this will was the one that Antonio had been paid to write.  He would never know if Antonio had paid off his debts before his death, or the real cause of his death, but he did know that in his own way, he had tried to have justice served for more than one crime.

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