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Healing Love

By Ann Bell

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Chapter 1

Angie, can you hear me?” Serafina Cruz gasped as she knelt beside her friend’s motionless body.
Angie didn’t respond. A trickle of blood oozed from a cut on the side of her head.
Serafina’s face blanched as she surveyed the darkened campus. In the distance a familiar figure emerged from the li-brary. “Steve, hurry. Angie’s hurt.”
Steve Salas raced across the lawn of Guam Community College. “Oh, no. What happened? She looks terrible.” He leaned closer and shook the injured woman’s shoulder. “Angie, can you hear me?”
Angela Quinata moaned and turned her head. The look of terror in her eyes softened as she recognized her classmates. “Help me,” she whispered. “I can’t move.” Steve turned and raced toward the phone in the entryway of the library.
Serafina brushed Angela’s blood-soaked dark hair away from her eyes. “Just relax. Steve’s calling an ambulance. Every-thing’ll be okay.”
Angela closed her eyes, seemingly unaware of her friend kneeling beside her. Tears filled Serafina’s eyes as she straigh-tened Angela’s rumpled skirt. “Please, God. . . Please help us. Angie’s hurt, and I don’t know what to do.”
Serafina studied her friend’s battered body. Her eyes settled on the scratches and bruises on Angie’s legs. She pulled back in horror. “Please, God, don’t let her have been raped. She’s the most innocent girl I know. . . . Please help her.”
Through the darkness, Serafina caught sight of Steve racing across the freshly mown lawn. “The ambulance is on its way,” Steve shouted as he neared his classmates.
The minutes ticked by slowly as Serafina continued holding Angie’s hand, while Steve paced nervously beside them. A warm trade breeze rustled through the palm trees. Their tense nerves jerked as a coconut hit the sidewalk and rolled onto the soggy grass. Angie’s five-foot two-inch frame resembled a broken Barbie doll as she moaned and turned her head. She never responded to her friend’s encouraging words.
Sirens pierced the tropical night air as red flashing lights re-flected against the encircling palm trees. The ambulance screeched to a stop in the nearby parking lot, and three atten-dants jumped out. Two of them raced to the back, flung open the door of the ambulance, and pulled out a gurney, while the driver grabbed a large black kit.
Serafina released her classmate’s hand as the Emergency Medical Team approached. The driver knelt beside the injured woman as Serafina stepped aside.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I found her lying here covered with blood.”
The driver wrapped a blood pressure tunic around Angela’s arm and squeezed the ball as he stared at the gauge. He took a pen from his pocket and recorded his findings on a clipboard. “Both her pulse and blood pressure are a little low.” He gently lifted her head. “It looks like she took a mighty powerful blow on the head, and she’s lost a lot of blood.”
The tall, graying attendant knelt beside the driver. “Do you see any other injuries?”
The driver shone his flashlight up and down her body. The light settled on Angie’s trim legs. “Oh, no,” he gasped. “I don’t like the way her legs are bruised. We better admit her to the hospital as a possible rape victim.”
The driver rose to his feet and moved the gurney as close to Angie as possible, while the other attendants positioned themselves at the victim’s head and feet. They moved smoothly and methodically, so as not to cause additional pain to their patient. Angie moaned as the medical team lifted her gently to the stretcher. “Mama? Mama, where are you?”
Serafina’s knees trembled as she again took her friend’s hand. “Don’t worry, Angie. Steve and I will follow the ambulance to the hospital. I’ll contact your mother from the emergency room. Just relax. . . You’re in good hands now.”
Angie’s eyes opened, and the corner of her mouth turned up slightly. Her mother’s face flashed before her as she imagined her mother holding her in her arms as she did when she hurt herself as child. Gradually her eyes began to fade as her forehead creased once more. “Where’s Mama?” she muttered, then closed her eyes.
t
Mitzi Quinata reread the letter she had just completed to a for-mer colleague at Guam Christian Academy. Rarely had she made such a close friendship with a teacher from the mainland who stayed on Guam for only two years, just long enough to complete a teacher’s contract, but Rebecca Sutherland Hatfield was different. She didn’t carry the distant, aloof mannerism that many of the statesiders did. Rebecca appeared genuinely con-cerned for the Guamanians as people. She’d started several peer support groups for those in crisis and spent many hours before and after school counseling students.
Mitzi pictured her matronly friend as she was bidding her farewell at the Won Pat International Airport exactly one year before. Rebecca was aglow with the excitement of returning to Montana and her upcoming marriage. She had agreed to teach in Guam for two years after retiring from Rocky Bluff High School. Rebecca had walked to her plane anticipating a relaxing retirement, but her letters to Mitzi the last few months reflected a busy, productive life. Married life had been exhilarating for her. She described the beauty of the Montana mountains and the peacefulness of the small lake nearby. She talked about the friendliness of the people and their enjoyment of the outdoor sports available in that area.
I wish I could visit Rebecca in Montana, Mitzi smiled. The way she describes it, Rocky Bluff is next to heaven on earth. Nothing could possibly be that perfect.
The ringing of the telephone interrupted Mitzi’s thoughts. She laid her pen and paper on the kitchen table and hurried to the phone. “Hello.”
“Hello, Mrs. Quinata?”
Wrinkles deepened on Mitzi’s forehead as a knot built in her stomach. “Yes.”
“Are you Angela’s mother?”
“Yes, I am. Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid so.” Taking a deep breath, the young woman continued. “This is Serafina Cruz. I’m a classmate of Angie’s. She was attacked on the GCC campus and taken to the hospital in an ambulance.”
Mitzi’s bronze face turned ashen. “What happened?”
“Steve Salas and I found her in the bushes between the administration building and the library. She was covered with blood. We called an ambulance and followed it to the hospital. Angie keeps asking for you.”
“Tell her I’ll be right there,” Mitzi gasped as she flung the phone into its cradle.
She grabbed her purse and raced toward her car. A gentle rain soaked her flowered blouse and blended with the tears on her cheeks. Please, God, help Angie. Don’t let anything happen to her.
The drive to Guam Memorial Hospital normally would have taken Mitzi twenty minutes, but the traffic was light, and fifteen minutes after Serafina’s phone call, Mitzi raced through the emergency room door.
“Mrs. Quinata?” Serafina said as the plump, graying woman stepped into the entryway.
Mitzi forced a smile and extended her hand. “You must be Serafina. Thank you for coming to the hospital with Angie. I’m so glad she has friends like you. How is she?”
“She’s in X-ray right now.” Serafina’s words tumbled from her lips in rapid succession, while her voice became high and tense. “The nurse said that she’s beginning to regain con-sciousness, and there are other positive signs. However, they can’t be sure until all the tests are completed.”
Mitzi’s eyes roamed the corridors. “I’ve got to see her.” She paced around the lobby looking for someone in charge. Her hands were clutched as the perspiration dripped from her fore-head. “Where is everyone? There should be someone at the desk.”
“There usually is,” Steve replied, “but when they admitted Angie, they said they were short of staff tonight. I understand that several of the nurses are in Honolulu for a training session.”
Mitzi continued to pace. “I can’t understand how anything like this could happen. Angie’s always so careful when she’s out at night by herself.”
Moments later, a nurse dressed in a white pants suit with blood stains on her smock hurried toward the concerned three. “Are you Angela Quinata’s mother?”
“Yes, I’m Mitzi Quinata. How’s Angie?”
“She received a severe blow to the head and has lost a lot of blood, but the X-rays didn’t show any fracture to the skull. It took twenty-five stitches to close the wound. We’d like to keep her overnight for observation.”
Mitzi studied the deep furrows on the nurse’s face. “Do you think there’ll be permanent damage?”
The nurse shrugged her shoulders. “The physical injuries will heal, but she’s been sexually assaulted and is terribly upset. The emotional injuries are often the hardest to heal.”
“Does anyone know who did it?”
“The police are on their way to interview Angie. I’d think it’d be best if you were present when they arrive. She needs a lot of moral support.”
“I’ll do everything I can,” Mitzi choked, while her eyes filled with tears as she noticed the reddish stains on the nurse’s uni-form. “Where is she?”
“Examining Room Four. Follow me.”
Serefina waved good-bye as Mitzi obeyed the nurse. “I’ll check with you tomorrow to see how she’s doing.”
Mitzi’s knees trembled as she hurried down the hallway. She took a deep breath as the nurse pushed open the door to Examining Room Number Four. She stifled a gasp as she recognized her daughter. Angie was lying on the bed quietly sobbing. Both her eyes were blackened and swollen. The left side of her long black hair had been shaved and replaced by an enormous gauze bandage. “Hi, Darling,” Mitzi whispered as she leaned over to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “How are you?”
Angie clutched her mother’s hand. “Mom, you’re finally here.”
“I came just as soon as I heard what happened.”
Angie’s sobs increased. “It was awful. I could withstand the beating, but a stranger stole what I was saving for my husband. I feel so dirty.”
Mitzi bit her lip and tried to force a smile. “Angie, you’re a brave girl. It’s over now. Just relax and think about the bright future ahead of you. . . Graduation. . .a new career. . .romance.”
“My future’s over.”
“No, Honey. You have your whole life before you. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Saturday night is graduation, and you’ll be receiving one of the highest honors in your class. Everyone is so proud of you.”
“No, Mother. You don’t understand. I can’t attend my gradu-ation. I won’t be able to bear having people whispering about what happened.”
“Of course no one will blame you. People will understand. You’ll be surprised how compassionate people can be.”
“That doesn’t change the facts of what happened. My fu-ture’s over. No man will ever want a spoiled woman, especially not the good ones like Jay.”
Mitzi swallowed hard and wiped a tear from Angie’s cheek. “Jay loves you. He’ll accept you just the way you are.”
“He deserves better. Besides, I can’t let him see me now. Look how ugly I am. I’m covered with bruises, and part of my head is shaved.”
“Angie, you’ll be able to hide most of the bruises under ma-keup and get a wig to hide the bandages.”
The pain of watching her bright, vivacious daughter in such depths of despair was almost more than Mitzi could bear. Her words seemed trite compared to the magnitude of Angie’s pain. “Your hair will grow back, and your bruises will heal. They’re just surface injuries,” she persisted as she wiped away the tears from Angie’s cheek.
Angie’s eyes became distant. She continued to cry for sev-eral minutes, while her mother stood helplessly beside her bed. “What did I do to deserve this? Why is God punishing me? Ever since I was a kid, I tried my hardest to please Him. Why did He let this happen?”
Mitzi studied her daughter’s troubled face. “Darling, God isn’t punishing you,” she said as she squeezed her daughter’s hand. “As long as there’s evil in this world, bad things are going to happen. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Angie shook her head. “I should have been more careful. I knew better than to stay so late, then walk across campus alone. God’s punishing me for my stupidity.”
“Angie, God doesn’t work that way. Right now you’re hurt and upset. After a night’s rest, you’ll feel better. As you close your eyes tonight, visualize yourself wrapped in God’s loving arms.”
“Mother, it’s not all that easy. You don’t understand. You’ve never been raped.”
Mitzi bit her lip. I would lay down my life for her. Why doesn’t she understand that I don’t have to be raped to share her pain?
Slowly, the examining room door opened, and the nurse entered, followed by two police officers.
“How are you doing, Angie?” the nurse asked as she ap-proached the distraught patient.
Angie tried to gain her composure. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop crying.”
“You’ll feel a little stronger tomorrow,” the nurse assured her, then mo-tioned to the two police officers. “I’d like you to meet Officers Irene Santos and Vincente Muñoz. They’d like to talk with you about what happened tonight.”
Angie forced a smile as she surveyed the trim woman officer and her male partner standing rigid and businesslike. “Hello,” she murmured.
“Hello, Angie,” Officer Santos greeted as she reached for the young woman’s hand and shook it gently. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
A lump built in Angie’s throat. The thought of rehashing the events of the last few hours terrified her. “I don’t remember much of what happened,” she murmured.
“We’ll try to make this as easy as possible. We know the trauma you’ve been through,” Officer Santos said. Officer Muñoz carried two chairs from the waiting room and placed them on the left side of Angie’s bed, while Mitzi remained seated on the right, unwilling to leave her daughter’s side.
Officer Muñoz took a tape recorder from his pocket and placed it on the table beside the bed. “I hope you don’t mind if we record this. We don’t want to miss any details. We need all the help you can give us to find the person who hurt you before he hurts someone else.”
Angie shrugged her shoulders with resignation.
“Angie, will you tell us exactly what happened tonight?” Of-ficer Santos asked gently.
“I told you that I don’t remember anything.” Angie clutched her fists under the sheet. She just wanted everyone to leave her alone. Each question became more and more difficult.
“Let’s take it step-by-step,” Officer Santos replied gently. “I’ve worked with a number of women who were assaulted. The first time a victim talks about the attack is the hardest, and it occasionally takes awhile before they remember the details.”
“I’ll try my best,” Angie whispered without commitment.
“What was the last building you were in?”
“I took the final exam for my customer relations class in the main classroom building.”
“What time was that?”
Angie hesitated. A look of puzzlement covered her face. Gradually a light of recognition appeared in her eyes. “I finished my test about eight-thirty, but I stayed after class to talk with the instructor. It must’ve been getting close to nine o’clock when I actually left the building.”
“Did you see anyone else as you left?”
“No, the campus was deserted by then.”
“Who was the instructor you met with?”
“Leon Paplos. He’s an excellent teacher and is helping me get a job.”
Angie did not notice Officer Muñoz stiffen at the name of the head of the cosmetology department at the community college, but Mitzi directed a puzzled glance at him which he ignored.
“Did Mr. Paplos leave at the same time you did?”
“No. He said he was going to work late and try to get most of the tests graded before he went home.”
“As you crossed the campus did you see anyone else?” Officer Santos continued.
Angie’s stomach tightened. “No one,” she choked. “That’s why I thought I’d cut across the lawn in front of the administra-tion building to get to the parking lot.”
“Then what happened?”
Angie remained silent for a couple moments, then began to sob uncontrollably. Mitzi leaned over the bed and cradled her daughter against her breast. “It’s okay, Darling,” she whispered, stroking her daughter’s hair. “It’s over now. You’re safe with us.”
Hearing Angie’s hysterical cries, the nurse hurried back to the emergency room. She went to a cupboard in the corner of the room and unlocked the case. Meticulously, she filled a sy-ringe as Mitzi continued to hold and comfort her daughter. “I think we’d better give her something to calm her. Being this upset is not good for her head injury.”
Within seconds, the relaxing fluid entered Angie’s blood-stream, and she lay back on her pillow and closed her eyes.
Mitzi tucked the blanket under her daughter’s chin and re-turned to her chair beside the bed. “Poor dear, she’s been through so much. I wish I could take her pain away.”
“As much as you’d like to ease her pain, in the end, the vic-tim is the only one who can bring about healing,” Officer Santos replied. “Healing comes in time, but the more that society victimizes the victim with its attitudes, the longer the healing takes.”
“I hope Angie’s strong religious background will help her conquer this, but so far it seems her training is more of a handicap than a help. Somehow she blames herself for what happened.”
Officer Santos nodded with understanding. “Religious people often suffer the most emotional pain after a rape because they falsely blame themselves.”
“What can I do to help her?” Mitzi begged as her eyes set-tled on her battered daughter.
“Only a proper understanding of the love of God can heal her pain,” Officer Santos replied. “I wish I had an easy answer for you.”
After the nurse disposed of the syringe, she turned to the police officers. “She’s not going to be able to talk for awhile. Would you mind coming back tomorrow morning? We’ll be moving her to a private room in a few minutes.”
“We’ll be back first thing in the morning. I hope she’ll be able to talk then. We can’t let the perpetrator get too far ahead of us.”
Officer Muñoz picked up his tape recorder and placed it in his pocket. “We need to go by the campus and see if we can get any information. We’d like to have the attacker in custody as soon as possible.”
Within minutes, two orderlies arrived and moved Angie to a private room on the third floor. Mitzi remained by her sleeping daughter’s side until the wee hours of the morning. Finally, overwhelmed by mental and physical exhaustion, she scribbled her telephone number on a slip of paper and handed it to the ward nurse on her way out of the building. “Call me if Angie awakens and needs me. I better get some sleep tonight, or I won’t be of much help to her tomorrow.”
“We’ll let you know if there’s any change,” the nurse assured her. “The best thing for you is to get some sleep. It’s been quite an ordeal for both of you. We’ll take good care of your daughter.”
Mitzi left the hospital parking lot and turned onto Marine Drive. She scarcely recognized the well-traveled street. What was familiar to her in the daylight looked so different at night. In the daytime normal, middle-class people went about their lives, earning a living, shopping, and visiting friends. Now the streets were full of prostitutes, pimps, and drug addicts. I never knew this kind of lifestyle was present on Guam. I’ve always felt safe on our little island getaway.
As the lights of Agana disappeared into the background, Mitzi’s mind drifted back to her sleeping daughter lying sedated in the island hospital. I wonder what tomorrow will bring for her? Angie has to accept what has happened to her and go on with her life. She kept saying, “Jay will never want a spoiled woman.” But I’ve found that Jay is the most understanding young man I’ve ever met. I’m sure he’ll be the key to her recovery.
As Mitzi turned onto the Cross Island Road, she pictured the tall, dark-haired airman from Andersen Air Force Base at the northern end of the island. Ever since Rebecca Sutherland in-troduced Angie to the young man from her hometown, Angie and Jay Harkness had been inseparable. Usually, Mitzi had ig-nored the large military population on the island, but somehow Jay was different. Like his former teacher and librarian, Jay took a special interest in the local people and their customs. He escorted Angie to as many of the fiestas and local celebrations as he could. However, it was obvious that Rocky Bluff was never far from his heart. As much as he was involved in island affairs, his heart was always in Montana. During the months that Angie had been dating Jay, Mitzi noticed the same interest in getting to know other peoples and cultures develop in her own daughter. Would their love survive such a difference in backgrounds? Would this tragedy destroy or strengthen their relationship? Could Jay be able to restore her daughter’s zest for living?
When she got home, Mitzi stumbled toward her front door, unlocked it, and headed straight for the bedroom. Without re-moving her clothes, she fell across her bed. Every cell in her body was crying for sleep. For three hours she scarcely moved, but when the first rays of morning sun streamed through the east window, Mitzi bolted upright. I have to talk to Jay before he goes to work. I don’t want him to read about Angie’s assault in the Pacific Daily News.
Mitzi fumbled through the drawer under the phone and found her list of special phone numbers. She punched the num-bers on the handset and waited for what seemed like an eternity.
“Hello,” a sleepy voice greeted.
“Hello, is this Jay Harkness?”
“Yes, it is,” the airman replied as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.
“This is Mitzi Quinata, Angie’s mother.” Mitzi took a deep breath as she tried to choose her words carefully. “I’m calling to let you know that Angie was admitted to the hospital last night.”
Jay bolted upright in bed. “What happened?”
“Last night she was assaulted and raped as she was walk-ing across the campus. She was knocked unconscious, and it took twenty-five stitches in her head to close the wound. They kept her in the hospital overnight for observation.” Mitzi’s voice trembled as she retold the details.
Jay was immediately on his feet. “Is she going to be all right?”
“I hope so,” she sighed. “The nurse doesn’t think there’ll be any lasting physical damage, but Angie’s extremely despondent. They had to give her a sedative. Hopefully, she’ll be better today.”
“That’s terrible,” Jay gasped. “I’ll call my first sergeant right away and see if I can take the day off to be with her.”
“Before you see her, I must warn you that she feels she’s been ruined for life and that no man would ever want her again.”
Jay sighed as he buried his face in his hands. A new tone of determination entered his voice. “She’s not a spoiled woman to me. In the sixteen months that I’ve known her, she’s become very precious to me. I’ll just have to prove to her that God’s love and my love are stronger than her own fears and false guilt.”

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