Game of Wit and Chance_Beginnings Read online

  Game of

  Wit and Chance

  Smugglers in Paradise Series

  - Beginnings –

  By R. Scott Tyler

  Published by R. Scott Tyler 2015

  Smashwords Edition

  First printing, November 2015 (USA)

  Copyright © R. Scott Tyler 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN-13: 978-1517585556

  ISBN-10: 1517585554

  Cover by Roy Migabon

  Publisher’s Note:

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, transmitted or circulated in any form other than its original.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance, real or imagined, to actual people, living or dead, places or events is purely coincidental.

  Book Description

  Restless Filipino, Gilberto Ramos, leaves the U.S. to return to his beloved homeland at the end of World War II. His new American wife, Sophia, happily joins him to escape a family in ruin and to satisfy her wanderlust. Their four children are raised with a love of family, music and the sea, but their four minds are focused in four different directions. One wants to see the world, one wants to own the world, one wants to make music for the world and one wants simply to live in the world. Their directions are set. How will fate intervene?

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  News at Sea 1984

  Saltwater spray stung Steven's eyes, drenched his body and made his skin itch as his ship rode the South China Sea somewhere between Manila and Shanghai. He knew pretty closely where he was, but since he was contracted to 'manage cargo' and not pilot, there were really only three places that mattered -- Manila Harbor, Shanghai Harbor and the sea between the two. They hadn't made it to Shanghai ahead of tropical storm Maisey. The first mate, head bent against the wind and following the storm guide wires, raised his hand and yelled when he was a foot from Steven's ear, "Captain wants to see you right away, Steven, he's at the helm."

  "I'll go when I'm through here. Another twenty minutes…a half hour at most. I have to finish checking the port hatches." Steven replied.

  "No, I'll finish. You go now. Captain said to send you immediately." The first mate met his eyes and transmitted something beyond words that stopped Steven's next argument as it was making its way from his brain to his tongue.

  The wind tore at his sleeves, and just as he opened the door that led to the helm, big drops of rain began to splash down.

  With a salute he acknowledged his superior and waited as the Captain handed over control of the monstrous, moving warehouse to a helmsman and motioned for Steven to follow him into the Captain's study. Captain Villanueva, his back to Steven as he poured them each short shots of whiskey, said, “Take a seat, Steven. I'm afraid I must deliver some bad news.” Steven's heart sank, his thoughts immediately flying to his grandparents and then even his father, bits of memories of them flashing before his eyes.

  Steven was shocked back to reality as the Captain turned, handed him one of the whiskeys, and with little preamble said, "Steven, your sister Julia is dead." He then poured the fiery liquid down his throat, grimaced just a little and indicated that Steven should do the same. Instead, Steven set the glass aside and sat down heavily. The Captain continued, "I'm very sorry, Steven. I just received the information and wanted you to hear it from me as soon as possible. I know Julia meant a great deal to you."

  "But how…? I just talked to her. We were going to meet in Shanghai in a week!" Steven's mind was racing, as was his breath. As sweat beaded his forehead the room became a blur.

  #

  Each time the ship he was sailing on visited Shanghai, Steven visited Julia's tiny apartment. Even so, this would only be the third time he'd seen it. As he mechanically went through the motions, absentmindedly doing his part to get the big ship docked, he began to think about what brought his youngest sister to Shanghai.

  Julia inherited their father's gift for music. Both of his sisters had, as far as that went, but Julia's voice forever remained in his head. She learned to sing before she could really speak. Steven guessed it was because their father, Gilberto, used song to soothe and calm his children. Julia, being the youngest of Gilberto's four children and losing her mother before she was one year old, received Gilberto's touch and voice longer than the other kids. She had no younger sibling vying for her remaining parent's attentions. After Sophia died Gilberto spent hours singing his grief out with Julia and her older siblings. Steven always figured that had instilled Julia with an innate ability to move her audience with her emotion when she sang herself.

  Early on Julia decided she wanted to spread her wings and use her musical talent to travel the world. Her first move was from the provinces to Manila, every Filipino's notion of potential prosperity and opportunity. One of the mayor's affiliates, a very consistent appreciator of her music, had been encouraging her to make the Chinese mega-city her next career move. When the brightness of the big city of Manila finally burned itself out she'd saved almost enough money to move to Shanghai. So after holding off her persistent admirer for several months, Julia finally slept with him. Shortly afterwards she was presented with the approved paperwork that assured her move to China. The aide to the mayor of Manila had even been instrumental in finding her a small apartment and introducing her to the block policeman who was in charge of the area. Steven had helped Julia with many other details, knowing nothing of her political connections.

  The first time his ship visited Shanghai, Julia met Steven at the docks. After hugging the breath out of her, Steven chided her as he knew the eldest Filipino brother (Kuya, they all called him) ought to do. "You should not have come here by yourself, little sister, Shanghai is a very dangerous city and the harbor docks are some of the worst areas!" At the time, he meant it, but only halfheartedly. There was no stopping Julia when she put her mind to something and he knew it. Well everyone knew it, he thought. She was a modern, single Filipina living alone in Shanghai, right?

  Julia had laughed and replied, "Ha, Ha, my kuya, little sisters do what they want now, don't they?" With that she punched him, rather hard, in the arm, turned around and commanded the nearest rickshaw operator, in Chinese, to deliver them to the street in front of her apartment. "The French consulate listened to me sing last night," Julia told him with a flick of her eyes in his direction. "The French are so colorful. He loved my voice, as well as my dress," she said, laughing as Steven reached over and gently pinched the top of her arm.

  "If Mother was alive she would tell me to bring you back home and lock you up," was what he had said to her. He had looked away sadly though because the truth was he wasn't sure he knew what their mother would have done. Their father told them that Sophia had wanderlust very badly and never wanted to stay in the same place long.

  Julia looked at him then and replied "I guess we don't know that, do we." And she stretched forward to shout directions at the rickshaw driver. Steven didn't know many words in Chinese, but he read his sister's mood like an old, familiar book. She wasn't going to be happy if the driver took them the long way home. She wouldn’t let him get away with anything. Steven leaned back and smiled.

  Sophia, Portland 1942

  At noon, Sophia’s mother, Gloria, flung her hand over the side of the bed and felt around on the nightstand until her fingers closed on the half empty package of Pall Mall's. Shaking one out of the torn corner, she stuck it in her mouth and struck a match on the headboard over her, sucking in the harsh smoke as well as the sulfurous eruption of the match tip. T
he first morning drag always made her gag, but she wasn't ready to swing her dead legs off the bed yet so she swallowed it down and sucked in another lungful in quick succession.

  "Sophia! Bring your mother some coffee! And fix it the way I like it in the morning!" The way she liked it was half coffee and half vodka. When she lost the use of her legs she'd also lost her desire for getting up in the morning…going to bed at night…and pretty much everything else in between.

  A few weeks after he realized his wife wasn’t coming back to him as a whole woman, Sophia's father lost the desire to come home at night. When he did come home, he slept in the bedroom or on the couch, wherever her mother had not passed out. There was also a tendency for 'pals' to show up with him to continue their partying. Some of them paid a little too much attention to Sophia's mother, others paid too much attention to Sophia. The good ones simply drank whatever liquor was in the house.

  Lighting the flame under the tea kettle, Sophia took a chipped enamel mug out of the dish drainer. She crossed the barren kitchen to the single set of metal cupboards her dad purchased from Sears when they moved into the house and dumped a teaspoon of instant coffee in the mug and followed that by spilling a couple shots of vodka into it. She'd found that the order she put the ingredients in the mug didn't seem to matter to her mom. The only thing her mom commented on was the amount of alcohol.

  Tomorrow it would be two years since they moved into this house; Sophia remembered it well because it had been her thirteenth birthday. A couple weeks before that birthday, her father had taken her to Sears and she was quite excited with the large carton he alternately pushed and pulled into the back of the (also thirteen year old) truck.

  "Dad, what is it! It's so big, is it a bicycle?" She had asked him.

  He had scoffed, "A bicycle? Why would I buy a bike? It's a kitchen cabinet for the new rental. There's hardly a thing in the entire place."

  Richard continued to awkwardly try to push and pull the box, which had no hand holds anywhere on it, onto the truck bed.

  "Well don't just stand there with your mouth open, give me a hand here with this," he said.

  He never did acknowledge his daughter's birthday and she never reminded him.

  Her fifteenth birthday was now nearly upon her.

  "Where's my coffee?" Gloria shouted, which caused her throat to catch, creating a hacking fit that turned into retching. The irritating tone of the reminder, followed by the disgusting noise that sounded like a pig being born, pulled Sophia out of her memories and back into her pre-birthday doldrums. Shutting off the gas and filling the remainder of the space in the mug with the tepid water, she gave the liquid one quick stir and walked it into her mom.

  "Ah, thanks honey. Your old mom just needs a little more help these days." Gloria blew on the top of the mug a couple times, then guzzled a third of it in one drink. "Jeez that hits the spot. I really need my coffee to get started in the morning."

  Sophia's deadpan look was getting pretty well practiced and she delivered her birthday reminder with the best one yet. "So, any big plans for tomorrow night?"

  Tomorrow was Sunday.

  Sophia's birthday.

  "None," her mother answered. "Besides reliving the painful entrance of my one and only daughter into the world."

  This sparked a small smile, as well as a punch in the leg, from Sophia.

  Gloria raised one eyebrow at the punch, reminding Sophia that she felt nothing from the hips down. "You think just because I don't throw you a fancy ball party that I forgot the day you were born? How could I forget that, I've never felt so much pain in all my life?" She took another long swallow of her drink and continued with, "and never been as proud of what that pain produced."

  "What are we gonna do, Mom?" Sophia meant 'do' in the larger sense. Her life had turned into alternating between being so mad she couldn't speak to her mom and being paralyzed with the agony of defeat that she knew her mom felt as well.

  "I'm not going to do anything, Graymane made sure of that when he spooked and threw me onto those rocks." Draining her mug, she handed it back to Sophia. "You're going to go make me a second cup of my special coffee." Shooing her back to the kitchen, Gloria repeated the mantra that caused desolation to fill her daughter's heart. "After that, you're going to do what I've been telling you since your last birthday. You're going to get the hell out of here and not look back."

  Sophia closed her eyes as she stood in front of the white enamel, four burner gas stove thinking she could never leave her mom to fend for herself in her helpless condition.

  Uncle Raymond 1939

  He headed to Portland as soon as Texas was done with him. "Lone Star state, my ass," Raymond thought. Freak bunch of red neck cowboys was more like it. He'd suffered under their dusty kind of sweat justice long enough. The lazy county attorney assigned to him didn't spend any more time than he had to arguing his case. If he had, Raymond was sure the charges would have been totally dropped. As it was he'd have this misdemeanor on his record for a while. And any crime involving children was spit on in the south, even if they all married their fourteen year old cousins…according to what he heard.

  His brother, Richard, lived in Portland and maybe he would see his way clear to lending him a little money to get back in the game. With any luck, Richard hadn't heard about his little incident with the underage hooker. Their father wasn't going to tell him, since he had been picked up along with Raymond in the same car. Yeah, he figured Richard was his best bet to getting back on his feet until he had spent two and a half weeks hitch hiking halfway across the country only to be met at his brother's front door faced with a baseball bat.

  "So I guess you heard, huh?" He tried the same guilty grin he'd worn all during high school whenever the principal had called or sent him home. It had usually worked on Richard. He would spend an hour lying his ass off and end up with twenty dollars and a couple days off school. Apparently things had changed.

  "You're not welcome here, Ray. Get the hell offa my porch. Go back to Texas." Richard said.

  When Raymond continued to stand there, grin melting slowly off his face, Richard continued. "Better yet, leave Mom alone and go wherever child rapists go after spending time having other prisoners teach you the ropes."

  "Brother, that's harsh," replied Raymond. If anything, Raymond had gotten even better at acting since being in prison. "I'm only here to say hello to my big brother and get back on my feet."

  "You're not welcome here anymore. Go find another sucker to help you back into your slime pit." Richard didn't give any ground, but lowered the bat.

  "Come on man, just give me a few days. I've just hitch hiked half way across the country. If you don't want me to hang out, I get it. Everybody else was against me too. Just let me stay here till I get rested so I can plan my next move." The guilty grin was replaced by the younger brother pleading his case. "I was railroaded the whole way, Bro. It's Texas, right?"

  Richard's shoulders sagged and he heaved a sigh. Raymond was his baby brother, wasn't he? His goddamned baby brother that had been in trouble ever since he turned twelve. Ever since their uncle had started with the horseback riding. He should have killed his uncle when he had the chance. It was all Richard's fault really, wasn't it.

  "Here's a hundred dollars, Ray." Richard cleaned out his wallet and handed all of the bills in it to his kid brother. "Go find a cheap place to stay tonight. Clear out in the morning. Get out of Oregon. In fact, get out of the West. I'm done with this; I won't do it anymore. You're on your own."

  Raymond took the money and made a show of counting it in front of his brother. Then he raised his eyes back to Richard's face and with a sneer that could put frost on a bottle of Bud, said, "Thanks for nothing, big brother. You're not the boss of me anymore, I'll come and go as I please. I kinda like it here, you know?" He turned around and looked at the whiskery landscape of trees outside his brother's yard. "Hell, maybe I'll do a little lumbering. Good money for a lumberjack with no scruples, I hear." The grin wa
s back when he turned around again.

  Raymond saw Richard sigh and was sure he could see his shoulders sag as well.

  "You'll stay away from here if you know what's good for you," Richard simply said.

  Raymond just laughed, turned and headed into town.

  Marge and Sophia, Portland 1941

  "You have to wear the dress, you're the mommy and that's what the mommy wears." Marge said, big furrows folding her almost invisible, blond brows together. "I'm the daddy, I wear the pants."

  Sophia rolled her eyes for the tenth time. They didn't even have the costumes that Marge wanted on yet and she was already worn out on the game. "Listen, I don't like dresses and you know it. How about if I wear the silly apron and we'll pretend it's a flowing gown!"

  Marge frowned and Sophia watched her think about it for a half minute. Sophia knew she would agree. Marge always agreed. Sophia could get the nine year old to do pretty much whatever she wanted. Sophia loved Marge like the best little sister she didn't have.

  "Okay," Marge finally agreed, "but only if you stay and listen to 'Amos and Andy' after dinner." She was always working it to try to get Sophia to stay for a little longer.

  "Oh, Margie, we listened to that old show last time I was here. I want to go for a hike. I'd so much rather catch a frog or two than listen to that old radio." It went on like this all the time. Marge negotiating for culture, stories and time together while Sophia whined for a bit more of the outdoors and adventure.

  Again, Marge made a show of thinking it over and finally agreed. "I'll go let Mama know you'll be staying to dinner and that we'll have a nature walk afterwards." Though the two girls were almost four years apart in age, like opposing poles on two magnets, they were drawn together. Sophia watched the exchange between Marge and her mother through the kitchen door. "Of course Sophia can eat with us Margie. But maybe she should check with her parents?" Marge's face expressed her answer to her mother without actually saying, "Of course she shouldn't.”