Chronicles From Eternity: Damien's Arrival

Chapter 1

I remember when the children came to our home for the first time. My father had taken on a new business associate, Irfan Morgan. By my father's request, he and his family were to spend the summer months with our family. I didn't know much about my father's business then, and I didn't care. I was, however; overwhelmed with excitement upon hearing Mr. and Mrs. Morgan had two young children, a son and a daughter. It was the summer of 1905 and though I was only a boy of eight years, I remember meeting them as the actual moment life began.

I was an only child and sole heir to the Lansing estate. Only a first generation American, protecting the European traditions of my grandparents was important to my father. To most German speaking immigrants from the Old World, that meant seclusion from the New World. I had the finest education money could buy. That meant a governess and tutors for private lessons only. Father said other children would only have been a distraction to my learning.

In a large house full of servants and adults bustling about, I was often bored and prone to sneaking around the house. I bothered anybody who took notice. That early day in June, I wasn't found bothering a soul. Instead, I was a statue carved into the side of one of the stone pillars at the grand entrance to our home. I spent the hot hours of the day into early afternoon staring out at the gravel path leading to the road down the mountain.

My stomach growled and sweat beaded at my forehead, but I couldn't be pulled from my post for even a meal. I had just known the second I stopped looking I would miss their arrival and my chance at a good first impression. I thought the children must have a welcome greeting. Finally, when the sun had begun to come into my direct sight; a scarlet colored Model C appeared on the road driving toward me. It looked like an extravagant, canvas topped carriage without horses drawn to it.

It stopped just shy of the house, about one hundred yards from where I stood. I could barely make out the small figures in the back seat of the carriage. The canvas kept them in shadows. I had known it was the children and off I ran. In my haste, I tripped head over rear and almost completely tumbled my way to greeting them. After standing so still for hours in the same place, my legs had become rubber beneath me. Barely coming to a stop, my shirt collar tightened from the back, and my entire body was lifted straight up until I was upright again. "Stand up, son; we don't want to present ourselves a mess." My father's voice spoke in a stern whisper, just loud enough for him and me to have heard.

At a much slower and less confident pace, I made my way to the family and extended my hand to the freckly, brunette boy standing by the carriage. "Hello," his only response was to stare at me with an angry pout. "My name is Damien, pleasure to meet you."

His pout turned slowly to a smile and all at once he burst into laughter. "Gee, you sure do talk funny!" He said, still laughing hysterically. "That what happens when you don't get real skoolin with other kids...you turn sissy!" He laughed so hard at his own joke; he almost stifled his own breathing. I could only look at him with curiosity in my gaze.

"Reuben, stop it!" A tiny, lilted voice attempted to shout from the carriage. "Mama, make him stop teasing Damien." My head followed the voice to the most beautiful raven-haired little girl I had ever laid eyes on. I hadn't laid eyes on any other little girls actually, but it didn't matter. I knew even then, hers was a rare beauty.

"Children, enough, settle down now." Irfan Morgan had a booming voice that rumbled your chest when he spoke to you. Yelling would have been unnecessary for him to make any point. "I'm sorry Mr. Lansing, sir; the kids will behave better from now on, you have my word."

He was what you called, strapping, broad-chested with thick arms and a full bearded face. He would have been, capable of pummeling any man who dared challenge him, yet speaking to my father; he appeared as diligent as a scolded child. "I'm sure it won't." It was impossible to tell what he was ever really thinking. "You're in my home now, call me by my given name; Vasyl." "My wife is inside, shall we?" He began walking to the house. "I'm sure the children will be quite well with Damien."