All Characters are to be viewed as over the age of eighteen.
Copyright 2008 by madengineer3, All rights are reserved! This story is not to be copied or circulated except by madengineer3 or by means of the Literotica website, and under Literotica's rules.
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For all of those who have spent time on the ocean it is obvious that if a major storm is about to catch you, it is wise to find a sheltered port within which to anchor. The same can be said of people who are in immanent danger. They will often turn to even a stranger to provide safe shelter. This is a story about a woman and child who found shelter in a refuge that was stronger than they expected.
Mary Jones was just twenty two. She had suffered a violent rape at the hands of a young thug named Phil Brown. He did this to her when he was seventeen. He was an arrogant and ignorant disgrace to humanity. But, because of his age, a grandfather that was a state senator and a father who was the local town justice of the peace, he had been given three years in a juvenile facility.
The trial had been held in the county's family court. The judge was very good friends with the boy's father and grandfather. The boy had been given a virtual slap on the wrist. If he had been tried in any other court, in any other jurisdiction he would have been tried as an adult and given at least twenty years in the state pen. You see, he hadn't just raped Mary, he had also sliced into her body hateful words and symbols. He didn't slice deeply, but the scars would likely be with her the rest of her life.
At the end of the trial Phil had told Mary that when he got out he wanted to see her again, to talk over his stay in jail. He was smart enough to not make it sound threatening. No one could prove that he was threatening her. But she knew, from his look, that he was going to come after her when he got out of the juvenile facility.
Phil Brown was born into a very wealthy white family. He had always been given anything he wanted. When he did things that hurt other people his family either bought their silence or threatened the hurt people with legal harassment and frivolous lawsuits if they tried to press changes.
Mary was an orphan. She had been sent out to live on her own when she reached the age of eighteen. She found work as a waitress at two different establishments. By serving on different shifts she was able to afford a very cheap room and enough food to live on. Mary's ancestry was African. This was in a town with only two black families.
In her work as a waitress she met an old lady, named Isadora, that she especially liked. It wasn't that the lady tipped well or offered anything to her. It was because the lady treated Mary as a lady; a person who mattered. The old woman always called her by name. Mary liked that.
Mary had reached her eighth month of pregnancy. In the restaurant, the old woman spoke to her.
"Mary, how will you handle having a baby and work?"
Mary looked down at the floor and said: "I don't know. I have no family and no financial support so I may be forced to go on welfare. I don't want to do that but may have no choice."
"You didn't choose this pregnancy, did you child?"
"No, it's the result of a rape."
"You didn't abort the child?"
"No, it wasn't the child's fault. I couldn't do that."
Isadora was silent for a moment. Then she said; "I may have some help for you. My family owns the house that I live in. It is very old and has many rooms that I do not use. How about moving into one of my rooms rent free. After the baby is born and you are able to go to work again I can watch the child for you. It has been many decades since my children left my house. It might be nice to hear happy sounds again. Please think about my offer and let me know if you are interested."
"I wouldn't dream of imposing on you. There would be dirty diapers and such. Also, I don't have any medical insurance. I don't even know how I'm going to deliver this child."
"Mary, in my youth I worked at times as a midwife. I have delivered more children that I can count. We can do this without any doctors and hospitals. We just won't have a standard birth certificate."
"If you really want me to move in with you, I would be honored. You have no idea how much your kindness means to me. It is as if you were an angel sent by God."
"You know, Mary, the word angel simply means messenger. Many times in life you will meet an angel and won't even recognize him or her."
"I have one practical question. Do you live near enough to where I work so that I can get to work?"
"No, I don't. But, I like to drive and can make sure you have transportation. Do you have a driver's license?"
"No, I've never had the chance to learn. I have a lot of areas where I am somewhat behind everyone else."
"Don't worry child. We can make it work."
It was two weeks later that the move to Isadora's house was completed. Mary had never seen a house like this before. It was set back in a large grove of trees about a hundred yards off a small secondary road. The house was miles from the nearest neighbor. It had a sort of old, creepy feel to it. It all but oozed a certain "strangeness" that would be obvious to almost any sensitive person.
In spite of the house's strange look, the room that Mary had been given was warm and friendly. The house was nicely decorated, but with some very strange objects. There were assorted glass prisms, sphere's, and strange pictures on the wall. These objects all looked to be very old. The furniture all looked like it had been made in the 1920s.
There were no radio, no television, and no computer in the house.
Mary was awestruck with the contents of the house and overwhelmed by the kindness of Isadora. Within a week or so, Mary had her daughter. She named her Isadora after the kind woman who had taken them in. It was shortly after the birth that a stranger arrived. Her name was Grace. As it turned out, Grace was Isadora's granddaughter. Both Isadora and Grace were happy for Mary. They came up with what turned out to be a good idea.
Isadora spoke first: "Mary, instead of working at the restaurants again would you consider working for us? It would involve cooking, cleaning, and generally helping around the house and yard. We will pay you half again the salary you got from working as a waitress and you will be near your child; like you should be."
"You mean you would pay me to stay here? It sounds too good to be true."
Grace responded, "My grandmother is not very young. She also lives alone most of the time. It will be good for her to have company. She is also very gifted in some very old arts that you might even like to learn."
"What kind of arts are those? Do you mean like painting or weaving?"
"No, but I can show you one of them." Grace led Mary to a room that she had never been in before.
There were shelves loaded with old bottles with hand printed labels that were mostly in Latin or some other language. There was a massive bookshelf that contained all sorts of books on arcane subjects. As Mary would eventually learn, many of these books were written in foreign languages and many were not printed, they were hand written. There were also strange lamps and very strange cooking implements that were not kept in the kitchen area, but were on shelves. Grace went to the shelf with bottles and took five bottles from the shelves. She took down a mortar and pestle and ground some of the contents of three of the bottles and then added a few drops from each of the other two other bottles. The mixture smoked a bit and had a smell that wasn't too bad, but wasn't overly good either.
"Now, Mary, look at that nasty scar on your left hand. Do you really want that scar?"
"No, but plastic surgery can hurt and it costs money."
"What if I told you that I can remove that scar in under a minute and it will never come back again?"
"How could you possibly do that?"
"Watch!"
Grace took a silver spoon and took a small amount of the liquid and a funny looking stick and walked over to Mary.
"Don't be afraid,, this won't hurt at all."
Truth be told, Mary was a bit uneasy with what was going on.
Grace carefully put some of the mixture that she had made on the scar, said a few words that Mary didn't understand and touched the scar with the funny looking stick.
The liquid suddenly glowed a deep violet that shifted into a gorgeous purple. In seconds the liquid was gone; and so was the scar!
Mary was almost in shock. "What just happened? The scar is totally gone! How did you do that?"
Isadora smiled and gently said, "It's an old form of medicine. Almost no one remembers how this art is done, and I am learning how to do it from Grace. She is an expert."
Mary's mind was reeling a bit after this demonstration of power over scars. She started to consider that maybe she didn't know what was real anymore. "If this is real, and it sure looks like it, then much of what I have learned in school is not at all real."
"Well put, Mary, well put. Much of what you have learned is not real. For example you look at that table and believe it is solid. But it isn't. If you were to gather all the 'stuff' that makes up that table in one place (which, by the way, you can't do) you would discover that almost all of the volume of that table is a vacuum, nothing, zip, nada! There are other things that most people 'know' to be true that aren't. Unfortunately, most people are not decent enough to be allowed to learn some of these arts since they could use them to do very bad things. There aren't many of us who still have the knowledge and skill to do this. We think that you have the ability to learn this art. It will take decades, but it will be worth it. Are you interested?"
"Yes, I think so. When can we begin?"
