Chapter 1: Certain as Green Apples - The Bantocs - Sure as fate

           

           Not so long ago, in a small fishing town that lied between at the foot of a looming craggy hill of numerous precipices and caves with caverns and a shoreline beside the sea, there lived a good fisherman who became a prosperous merchant and his once-loving wife who became an arguing and scrutinizing mistress as the couple's fortune flourished.

            Three daughters they had. The eldest was the prettiest of all their daughters. All set on a perfect heart-shaped face, her deep-set, light brown eyes were round and bright with lush eyelashes and set under perfectly arched brows. Her nose was straight. Her lips were very rosy that had thin upper and heavy lower lips. Her hair was soft, curly, and auburn. She had the tallest stature of the three siblings and was slender. A thing of timeless beauty, she had flawless light olive skin. They had named her, 'Celeste Conchita'. Mr. Benedicto Bantoc, the good fisherman and merchant, and Mrs. Josefina— Benedicto's wife— felt the heaven had blessed them when they had her.

           They had their second daughter two years after their first child. The second daughter was just about as pretty as the first daughter. She too had flawless light olive skin, a heart-shaped face, a straight nose, deep-set light brown eyes, lush eyelashes, and perfectly arched brows but she had full rosy red lips, and her hair—though also soft and wavy— was of light brown with sun-kissed golden locks. Almost as tall as her sister Celeste, the second daughter was slender and well built. The wealthy Ben and Josefina had named their second daughter, 'Petunia Bonita', which reminded them of one of the fishes from the ocean the merchant and his wife made a fortune out of.

           Mr. Bantoc's wife had been very fond of their first and second daughters. They were very beautiful and sure as fate with their beauty, the two sisters would be married to any of the handsome and wealthy men in their village at the foot of the craggy hill or beyond the craggy hill, for that matter.

           However, the fisherman's wife Josefina had been worried about what the future of their last daughter would be. The youngest of the three daughters was not pretty as her siblings. At nineteen, she grew up broad and round. She had a wide round face. Her eyes were oval but narrow. She had dark brown eyes, sparse eyelashes, and thin brows. Her lips were thin, pink, and cracked. She had a fleshy nose. She was mousy and raven-haired. The dark and dull strands of her hair were twisted like corkscrews. Her skin of cool brown color was not smooth and her mother, Josefina often yammered and tormentingly described her last daughter, “The girl has the skin of a stone-fish!” to anyone she encounters when she mentions her youngest daughter's physical appearance. Her skin was not smooth but was scaly and coarse.

           “I’m sure Celeste and Petunia— with their charming and impeccable beauty— will marry any of the wealthy men in our town. God is willing!'” Josefina often discussed the future of their daughters whenever they had supper together in their kitchen with her husband, their three daughters not yet home— more especially now that the siblings were of marriageable ages.

           “But I'm concerned about our youngest,” said the merchant's wife, standing at the burning stovetop; finishing up her cooking by adding a little salt, pepper, and more herbs to their favorite meal of fish stew.

           “Truth be always told. Maria is not as attractive as her other sisters,” the wealthy fisherman's wife said, sighing while mixing up not so vigorously with a wooden ladle the last ingredient she had placed into the fish stew, scrutinizing and lamenting again on their youngest daughter's unfortunate ugliness.

         Josefina was two years younger than her husband. The two had met at the fish market where Ben had been working with another fishing merchant. Josefina Gusso Carpio was eighteen when she had met her husband. She had been one of the five children of Mr. Pepito Quinhas Carpio and Mrs. Leticia Gusso Carpio. Her family had lived over the craggy hill. She was beautiful with long, dark, tawny, and wavy hair. She was slender and delicate. Just like Celeste and Petunia, she had shared similar attributes with her two elder daughters. She had round and bright light-brown eyes and a delicate straight nose. The young Benedicto Bantoc immediately declared his undying love to Josefina from the moment he saw and set his eyes on the lovely Josefina. They got married one year after they had met.

            At their kitchen, Josefina had her graying dark and tawny hair coiled in a top-knot. She had a white apron over her teal ankle-length dress with a wide skirt and long puffy sleeves. She poured the fish stew into a big deep stone serving vessel. The whole kitchen was filled with the smell of the hot and spicy concoction and whetted Ben's appetite. She served the hearty fish stew along with some freshly baked loaves of crusty bread and a peeled crisp green apple to her husband who was sitting at the dining table made out of hardwood that had two long old hardwood benches along its side.

           The fifty-year-old good rich fishing merchant Ben Bantoc gruntled with his good hearty meal and Mrs. Bantoc's yammering at supper time every day since they had had their daughter Maria.

           “I’m certain as the gods made the imported little green apples, the gods were displeased on the day she was brought to light,” the wealthy merchant's wife said.

           “I feel blessed and happy God made her.”

          Ben had meant what he had said but his lamenting wife had refused to listen and acted like she had not heard him. It had become her litany to the gods and her husband going through the ordeal that once was a foreboding night. He had found her nagging and quarrelsome morning after morning, by day and by night, and would only have a moment of silence when her mouth was full every time they had their meal. With her husband's replies falling to deaf ears, she continued her tale the day Maria came to light.

            “That had been a terrible storm that night,” Josefina's voice trailed away and the whole picture of a forty-four-year-old, with even sprinkling of gray and dark hair and bushy-bearded man eating his supper peacefully faded and transposed into a setting of a memory of most horrifying long ago.