The Spells of Paradise

Prologue

Prologue

Charlestown, South Carolina, 1842

John Brandon Quincy sat at the table in the study of his home in Charlestown and stared down at the empty piece of paper in front of him with a frown. He knew what he had to write; he just didn't know how to get started. There were so many things that he wanted to say, he had spent years trying to figure it out and now there was no delaying. But knowing what he needed to write and actually writing it were two different demons. 

His mother, Malia, often stressed to him the importance of reaching out to his two half-sisters, Lucy Quincy in particular. After many years of wondering why it was so important that he do this, his mother finally revealed to him that Lucy was no blood relation to him, but she was still his half-sister in name, for she was the claimed daughter of his late father, Magistrate John Quincy. However, in harsh reality, she was the blood daughter of the also late convict, Arthur Denning. 

"There are many things she doesn't know, darling," his aged mother told him, sadness prevalent in her tired eyes. "And some things she must learn for herself. But you should tell her the truth about your father and I. I myself do not have any strength left to do so, and your father is gone. Do this, my dear. Be the strength that I cannot."

John would never understand why his mother insisted that she wasn't strong, for she was the strongest woman he knew. She had the strength to leave behind her love and her life in England to bring him to America so he could be void of burden and scrutiny. There were no prospects in England for him, they were all miles and oceans away, and she brought him to Charlestown so he could find them. There were no limits for mothers where their children were concerned, and his was the proof of that.

In all honesty, writing this note to Lucy was the least he could do for his mother and, by extension, for his own conscience.

So, after taking as long as he had to gather his thoughts, John finally managed to put them to paper. Words came to him like a tide he had tried to hold back, and they flooded through his mind and down into his hands, bleeding words that he never thought he could write.

Lucy,

You do not yet know me, and that is no one's fault. There is nothing to say by means of introduction. I feel that now is the time to reach out to you, upon the death of your father, Magistrate John Quincy. The truth is, he was my father as well. I am your half-brother, John Brandon Quincy.

You may relay this information to whomever you please, for there is little left to hide. If it is proof of my relation to our father that you require, I am willing to provide that for you at your earliest convinence. Know that I do not ask anything of you, that is my promise.

You may recall a woman named Malia, a maid that lived in your home a long time ago during the case of the murder of a certain deputy in Lanfore. I was told some details of the story, though I cannot recall them all. She is very fond of you and thinks of you often. She is my mother, and we live in Charlestown.

I know what you must be thinking, especially of our late father, Magistrate Quincy, for I thought the same thing for a time. What sort of man would do such a thing to his family? I felt like a living, breathing burden, and wanted nothing more than to resurrect our father and demand answers from him. Alas, such a feat remains ever impossible, and I have had to struggle to come to terms with it. I can honestly say that I have not yet, but I have my life now, with the hopes of starting my own family in the future, so such things are better left in the past.

This does not mean, of course, that you aren't entitled to your rage. You have every right, though I am certain you do not need my validation of that to make it any truer. You are, after all, more of a child to John Quincy than I will ever be.