Chasing After the Wind

L.A Rimer

Description

Like most 18-year-old girls, Eden Owens has dreams for her future. But she also knows her chances of achieving her goals are overshadowed by her environment. She often sits in the dismal bedroom she shares with her younger sister, Abby, and prays for a miracle. More than anything else, Eden desperately wants a college education. When she approaches her brutish father, Clem, and nervously asks him if he has set aside money for her to go to college, her father laughs in her face. Eden knew then and there that she had no choice but to resume her miserable life in the slums of Maramount, Illinois. But fate has other plans for Eden. Mrs. Omaha, her favorite teacher, works behind the scenes with Professor Altgeld, a poet laureate, to include Eden on the meritorious Studies Abroad cruise program. As Eden embers upon a study voyage around the world, her nautical adventure opens her eyes to corruption, vice, and immorality that leads to a personal journey of self-discovery. Eden's determination to pursue her dream will drive her to excel scholastically. Although she will meet the love of her life, her journey will be fraught with bullies, rape, murder, and a mysterious stranger who exacts revenge in his own diabolical way.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
• Date de parution: 30 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781649790422
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Chasing After the Wind
L.A. Rimer
Austin Macauley Publishers
2022-11-30
Chasing After the Wind About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Ecclesiastes 4:4 (NIV) One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Twenty-Five Twenty-Six Twenty-Seven Twenty-Eight Twenty-Nine Thirty Thirty-One Thirty-Two Thirty-Three Thirty-Four Thirty-Five Three Weeks Later Epilogue
About the Author
L.A. Rimer is a pseudonym for an attorney
who lives and works in Chicago, Illinois.
Dedication
To my family…
Copyright Information ©
L.A. Rimer 2022
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author ’ s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Ordering Information
Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher ’ s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Rimer, L.A.
Chasing After the Wind
ISBN 9781649790415 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781649790422 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022918998
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published 2022
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street,33rd Floor, Suite 3302
New York, NY 10005
USA
[e-mail]
[phone]
Ecclesiastes 4:4 (NIV)
" And I saw that all toil and all achievement spring
from one person ’ s envy of another. This too is
meaningless, a chasing after the wind.”
One
After 22 years of marriage, Isabelle Owen’s stomach still tensed when she heard the front door open and her husband, Clem, enter their dilapidated house that set on a muddy lot behind their one pump gas station.
Clem tromped through the house, tracking snow and mud across Isabelle’s clean floors. He tossed his filthy snow-covered coat across the back of a kitchen chair, grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, and walked into their small living room. Still wearing his oily coverall, he flopped down on the sagging couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. After a couple long pulls on his beer, Clem turned on the television to watch the local news and weather. He particularly liked the curvy, young, weather gal, Dewy Raines. With her cantaloupe sized breasts, tiny waist, and rounded bottom, Clem was often too distracted ogling her to listen to the weather report.
Clem didn’t care for sports, which followed the weather report, so he turned the television off and finished his beer. He belched loudly, scratched his crotch, farted twice, and headed into the kitchen.
Isabelle busied herself at the stove with turning the pork chops and stirring the gravy. She hated her life and she hated Clem. Clem came up behind Isabelle and he roughly grabbed her bottom with both his huge hands. Isabelle reached for the gravy bowl and freed herself from him, but she knew what his next move would lead to, so she quickly side-stepped him and began to set table for dinner. Clem’s mood quickly soured at Isabelle’s rebuff. He walked over to her and as she set the last plate on the table, he shoved her and she fell backward over one of the chairs.
Isabelle knew Clem would hit her harder if she got up, so she laid on the floor, watching his evil grin. Their son, Rick, came into the room and he saw his mother on the floor and his father standing over her. This was an all too familiar scene for Clem and Isabelle’s three kids. Rick, who now stood as tall and was as strong as his father, stepped around his father and he helped his mother to her feet.
“Nice going, Dad,” Rick said sourly.
Clem laughed and he left the room.
The next morning Clem woke with his usual thundering erection which he took care of by humping his wife ’ s limp body. As he rolled off her he wondered why he couldn’t get Isabelle pregnant again. He didn’t really want any more kids, but he wanted to keep her tied to him. What Clem didn’t know was after the birth of their last child Isabelle had gone to the free medical clinic in town and had asked for birth control pills. To keep Clem from finding them she hid underneath the silverware drawer in the kitchen. She knew that was a safe place to hide them, since Clem only used silverware when they were set next to his plate on the table where he ate.
Clem lumbered off the bed, and Isabelle laid on her back staring blankly at the ceiling. Clem headed into the tiny bathroom to, in his words, shit, shave, and shower. He stood over the stool and peed all over the seat, laughing to himself because he knew how angry his crass actions made his wife,
When Clem came into the kitchen later, Isabelle, wearing her thick blue robe, stirred the gravy on the kitchen stove and tried to ignore Clem. She hated him, and she hated her life. Despite having been reared by decent, well-educated parents in an upper middle-class suburb, Isabelle knew how she ’ d wound up married to Clem and living in the poorest section of Maramount, Illinois, known as South Trekkin.
Although Isabelle was pretty, petite, and a smart teenager, she wasn ’ t popular. Therefore, she was often overlooked by the celebrated and attractive boys in her class. A few times, she had been asked out by Clem Owens, but she had no desire to date the class bully. She broke her own rule in her senior year when prom came and no one asked her to go. The day before the dance, Clem asked her, and against her parents ’ wishes and her own good sense, she accepted his invitation. Much to her chagrin, Clem picked her up in his dad ’ s filthy, gas-station pick-up truck. He wore a rumpled brown suit with thick, brown, leather patches on the elbows, a western shirt, and dusty boots. Isabelle miserably gathered up into her hands the bottom of her beautiful, white, beaded gown, climbed into the truck, and sat close to the door.
At the dance, Clem pawed and bumped her with his hips and held her too close to him. Not being able to stand another minute, she asked him to take her home. On the ride back, he swung the steering wheel sharply off-road, drove to a secluded spot out by the lake, and raped her. After Clem finally rolled off of her, Isabelle sat in his truck and sobbed uncontrollably. Although Isabelle was disheveled, battered, bruised, and in a state of shock, Clem dropped her off at her house. Isabelle stumbled up the flower-lined sidewalk to her glossy, white, front porch, but she couldn ’ t go inside. She huddled on the porch swing where she lay for most of the night. At the break of dawn, she sneaked into the house.
She was too embarrassed to tell her parents what Clem had done to her. Her parents knew something was wrong and they worried about how quiet she had become. They chose not to ask any questions, fearing the worst. A few weeks later, she missed her period. When she missed another period, she went to Clem and told him she was pregnant. He married her. And seven months later, their son, Rick, was born.
Her parents never spoke to their daughter about their shame, but Isabelle knew they were both heartsick over the sad fate of their only child. On the few occasions when her parents had dropped by to see Isabelle and the children, Clem had made them so uncomfortable, they often cut their visit short. On those rare occasions Clem allowed Isabelle to go to her parent ’ s house, he sat in their driveway in his gas-station tow truck and leaned on the horn.
Isabelle ’ s parents dreaded ever venturing into South Trekkin. In getting there, they had to pass by a dismal line of empty warehouses and a deserted strip mall. Past the ruins, they drove over four sets of railroad tracks which led them down a bumpy, graveled road faced with dilapidated houses and sagging porches. Commonplace were cigarette butts, beer cans, used syringes, and overflowing-rank garbage cans. Half-starved dogs were tied to sparse trees. The dogs that were left to roam the streets often became roadkill when they attempted to cross the busy intersections. Angry gangs of young thugs armed with hidden guns and knives patrolled the area. Throngs of homeless people lay in doorways, drug deals took place out in the open, and very young girls with swollen bellies solicited passing cars. With the bad economy and the skyrocketing unemployment rate, South Trekkin had exponentially grown in the last few years.
The summer months provided a dismal scene of its own. Idle men and obese women sat on their front porches next to dusty, oscillating fans that moved the humid air over their sweaty, unwashed bodies.
Those persons in South Trekkin who attended church on Sunday morning were mainly there for the air conditioning. But the free coffee and donuts were also a draw.
“ It ’ s time for dinner,” Isabelle said softly.
Clem got up, and he turned off the television. He walked into the small hallway that led to the two small bedrooms and yelled, “ Hey, three stooges! Get your asses in here! It ’ s time for dinner!”
The bedroom at the end of the hallway opened, and ten-year-old Abby and 17-year-old Eden walked quietly past their father and into the kitchen.
Isabelle spooned the steaming meat and potatoes into a bowl. She glanced up and saw her lackluster reflectio