FEAST OF MEN

  Feast Of Men

  Story of A Woman’s Heart

  BOOK ONE

  AYN DILLARD

  Psychobabble Thriller, Spiritual, Adventure, Fairy Tale, Mystery, Love Story Inspired by Real Life

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events in this book are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  FEAST OF MEN: Story of A Woman’s Heart

  Published by Gatekeeper Press

  2167 Stringtown Rd, Suite 109

  Columbus, OH 43123-2989

  www.GatekeeperPress.com

  Copyright © 2019 by Ayn Dillard

  All rights reserved. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be sold or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  ISBN (paperback): 9781642376876

  eISBN: 9781642376883

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedicated

  to

  my father

  who offered me the challenge to own my feminine power and expand my soul,

  and

  to

  all men

  that they become brave enough to overcome their insidious fear of women and evolve—becoming able to respect and honor the feminine for the possibility of a more balanced world

  “Woman once made equal to man,

  becomes his superior”

  —Socrates, Greek Philosopher

  But dedicated mostly

  to my mother

  “It must take a man many lifetimes

  before he’s worthy to live one

  as a woman.”

  —Ayn Dillard

  “The expression on a woman’s face reveals

  how well she is loved

  and how well she is being treated.

  This can be the love from a man, her family, her friends,

  or how she loves and cares for herself.

  A wise man will both want and enjoy seeing

  his woman glow

  because

  when she does, it spills onto him

  and to all those in her presence then out into the world.

  This is the magic of the feminine

  and it has the ability

  to empower the world to joy and peace.”

  —Ayn Dillard

  True events designated as fiction to allow for creative license.

  Names are fictious

  Cover design

  JudithS Design&Creativity

  Books by Ayn

  Daddy Throws Me In The Air

  There must be a plan...

  But we’re fools to think we have total control over our destiny. There may be choices, but the universe has its law of physics—seems most things can’t be interrupted.

  As if we’re fragments of a broken mirror with the magnetic chemistry of the powerful male/female energy compelling the pieces together.

  Our individual reflection in the mirror is our soul-coded-blue-print urging us to find emotional wholeness.

  Endless opportunities are offered up to recognize the negative ‘painful’ aspects taken in from our ancestral lineage with the goal of integration.

  The powerful allure is the quest for self-knowledge, love and validation.

  The ability to feel all our emotions in honest evaluation then to incorporate each reflection shown—we will arrive at our soul’s wisdom—which may be our true life’s journey on earth.

  If brave enough to walk through each aspect striving for the unification of the male/female along with our shadow and light, the magic of our soul’s destiny will be unveiled.

  As increased inner truth is acknowledged, the pieces puzzle together. Our mirror becomes clearer as senses expand revealing our current essence through which we have the ability to experience more.

  Just as our hearts become free—another piece emerges forcing the image to crack once again, re-adjusting with the offer and possibility of a more magnificent reflection than we once could have ever imagined.

  And the process continues, if we persistently choose to overcome the dark and are granted the honor to carry our light to others reflecting the purity of our souls as we journey our way back home...

  ‘Life’s mirror is friend to a wise man and

  an enemy to a fool.’

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  1. Reflections – ‘California’

  2. I’ve Figured Men Out

  3. Seize the Moment – ‘Airplane’

  4. The Car

  5. My House

  6. The Phone

  7. Reality and The Plan

  8. Money Isn’t Everything – ‘The Ad’

  9. Two Crazy People On A Farm

  10. Two Men – ‘April 21’

  11. Birthday In May

  Afterword – The Mystery—Mirror—Magic and Nightmares

  Fairy Tales are happening all the time...

  PROLOGUE

  A beautiful, young woman lies on a gurney being rolled down a dimly lit corridor into an austere operating room. The thin silhouette of her body is revealed under the sheet as she is transferred onto a metal table. Her dark brown hair is the only alive color in the room. Overhead fluorescent lights glare onto sharp instruments. Doctors and nurses in surgical masks surround. With her wrists secured, fear begins to overwhelm just as electroshock is given and sedation takes a deeper effect.

  A male doctor selects what looks like an ice pick and aims it directly into the corner of one of her richly colored brown eyes. Poking it in then up into her brain, he wheedles it around. Finished with one, he precedes to the other—to forever sever her emotional connections—tearing apart and destroying pieces of her innate individual essence.

  REFLECTIONS

  ‘California’

  Somewhere in the 1990’s

  Walking the narrow street to the ocean, tears fill my eyes as I feel a profound connection to the immense beauty of the universe. Twirling slowly, I joyfully lift-up my arms to the glorious blue sky as the love I feel inside amazes me. Except, why is it—how is it, I’m both satisfied and full of longing at the same time?

  The refreshing breeze blowing off the ocean is interrupted only by the relentless craving in my heart where a haunting question persists. Where is my true love—the man I will love for the rest of my life? Where’s the magic? I have such a longing to share the joy of myself with a man who is able to see me clearly and love me for all that I am. It feels as if I might burst open if all the love I have inside isn’t able to be shared soon. My emotions well-up forcing me to take a deep breath for release.

  This trip has been pleasant thus far and a nice break. Who’d ever thought after meeting David in Dallas that we’d talk on the phone for months and several times daily then he’d send me a ticket to visit him. Unusual thing being, I took him up on it. I am normally so overly cautious. Therefore, taking this trip is totally out of my character, but it’s an adventure and I need adventures and fun, after the hell that I’ve lived through.

  I enjoy David’s intelligence and some of his humor, but there’s definitely no magic and certainly no chemistry. I want magic and there must be chemistry or why bother? I want it all. I wonder, do I want too much?

  No, I’m going to wait until I find it or I will stay by myself. I’ll not settle for anything less than all I truly am and certainly deserve. After being married three times with all the hurt I’ve experienced, I’ll not settle for ‘almost’. No way! I want it all or nothing!

  It’s a nightmare, almo
st a miracle, I’m able to look back after so much suffering. My first husband got his secretary pregnant, while working for my father’s company. A paternity suit followed. Overwhelmed with so much pain and embarrassment that I could barely breathe, I tried with all my heart to be a supportive wife and believe his story—which was this woman only wanted to extort money from my family—but there were too many facts to the contrary. DNA tests don’t lie. I soon discovered that he’d had continuous affairs even possibly with one of my sisters. The nude photos I found in Terry’s dresser drawer of Tammy—the final confirming evidence. At the time, I kept silent about it because the betrayal was too much to bear.

  During the divorce, my youngest sister, Jeannie and even my mother confided that Terry had made advances to them while he was drunk. Hiding those betrayals, supposedly not to hurt me and because my family likes secrets. My family code is denial.

  Dreadful to recall, the months Tammy lived flirtatiously with us in Florida playing tennis and drinking. She would grin while mischievously calling my husband ‘Dr Feelgood’. How could I have possibly known the deception of which they were capable? The night her drunken words stumbled out, while she lain too intoxicated to move on my living room sofa, “Daddy will always love you best, no matter what I do. I’m going to get you out of my way, cut you out of the family—no matter what I have to do.” I was too naïve to comprehend her threat-filled drunken pleas then. I assumed it must be the liquor talking because as we got older, liquor did most the communication in my family. But I soon came to understand as her plans came to fruition. Our father unknowingly, or perhaps, he was partially aware became the catalyst for the family destruction.

  Stupid me—desiring to be worthy of my parents love, I was always an obedient ‘good’ girl. When it was discovered at a teenage party that I played spin the bottle even though I was the shyest one there and only been kissed once, my father became furious, yelling. “Don’t ever do anything that you’d be ashamed to tell the man you marry because honesty is most important between a man and woman! What are you some kind of a tramp? You’ll spoil yourself for your husband, if you continue to behave in this manner!”

  At thirteen, his angry words made me feel confused and ashamed. So, I vowed to myself to not go ‘all the way’, until I met my one true love. The wonderful man, I’d someday marry. The man that would rescue me from the horrible loneliness, I’d always felt living in my family.

  My father’s advice wasn’t bad and certainly representative of the double standard of the era. His ‘male’ duty was to perpetuate it in his first-born daughter because he certainly didn’t want an unwed mother in his family. Except the way, I heard his harsh advice gave me the expectation that if I was good and honest that someday a man would truly love me and if I wasn’t good there’d be no one. I blindly believed and trusted my father. His severe words along with my innocence and desire for love created the belief that it was totally dependent on my behavior and not the man’s. Even though the nature of my integrity which my father wasn’t able to see through his distorted lens was that—I already held this truth in my heart. I knew that people in love should always be truthful and honor one another. So instinctually, I followed his advice with every cell in my being because in all the world what I desired most was true love.

  I chuckle sarcastically now, as I look down the beautiful palm tree-lined street. His advice would’ve been better served on the men I married.

  The air is light and easy to breathe here, unlike where I live. It’s enjoyable looking at houses along my trek to the ocean while I continue my memories. What a shock it was when home from college, to pick up the phone late one night to overhear some woman say to my father. “Forgive me for calling your home Edward, but I love and miss you so much. Can’t you get away from your family soon?” Aware someone was listening, my father quickly hung-up on this woman who ‘loved’ him so much.

  I observed my father closely for the next few days and could tell by the look on his face, he knew it was me who’d found out his dirty secret. I never felt the same about my father after that. I became confused—ashamed of him and felt pity for my mother. I was certain, I’d have a better marriage, if only I followed his advice to the letter and be the most honest, good and trustworthy woman there could ever be in the world.

  For my father to cheat, made me think mother must be doing something terribly wrong. Only I knew her to be honest, if boring, usually playing Solitaire, watching TV or chauffeuring her children. She had no time to cheat. Dad was the one working, out of town, late at business meetings or somewhere else. We most always had to wait dinner for him.

  I decided right then, I’d never be anything like my subservient mother. Dad complained, criticized her, and then cheated on her. Nope not me, I wouldn’t have a marriage anything like theirs because I’m going to be the best wife in the world.

  Chuckling sarcastically, I wonder what advice Dad gave my sister Tammy concerning men and morals? It must have been very different from what he advised me.

  Obedient me, I saved my virginity for marriage, but Terry had continuous affairs and drank making the same mockery of marriage as my father. Nothing I did was good enough. His Redford-like appearance soon turned into a fat-bellied man marinated in alcohol. With his big-toothed grin, he soon resembled a whale. He was about as sexy as a post with his clumsy hands and liquor breath. I’d saved myself for a big nothing. He bet on football games, risky deals, the stock market or whatever egomaniacal obsession, he hoped could make him feel important. Secretly squandering all our savings, he spent many evenings with my parents sharing their love of alcohol and making fun of me because I don’t.

  My father’s drunken insulting orders still ring in my ears. “You’re not a swinger and don’t know how to have fun. Why don’t you have a drink and loosen up.” I guess, according to him, I was to be pure until married then become a drunken lounge-lizard afterwards. Sometimes, I’d order a glass of wine in hopes of shutting Dad up, but if I didn’t completely finish it. He’d shout, “Why’d you order it, if you aren’t going to drink it? Ok then, I will drink it because I can’t let a good wine go to waste.” Guzzling the remainder, he’d glare as his cloud of disapproval fell around me—as if I was a bad little girl who hadn’t finished her milk.

  My parents enjoyed having my husband as their drinking buddy as much as harassing me for not. Terry became more married to my parents than me. I had little in common with any of them as I endured hours in bars and restaurants, until mother’s liquor-filled high-pitched laughter reverberated and my father slurred his words as the smoke-screen fell around us. I suffocated in smoke and alcohol drowned out our connection—leaving me alone, confused and broken-hearted.

  Toward the end of the marriage, I overheard my father’s drunken orders to Terry. “Get her pregnant. I want a grandson from her.” Fear overwhelmed me—I didn’t want to be connected to Terry for the rest of my life by a child. So, I made certain that Dad’s order did not happen.

  Years passed before, I was able to grasp the inane craziness of it all. Terry was able to infiltrate my family through our wounds. My ache for love, my father’s ache for a son and his need to control everyone. My parents’ ache for escape. Tammy’s ache to feel important as she sought revenge on me for being born before her, as she wove her web of sexual deceit and betrayal. All of us falling blind, as we fell into collusion being played like pawns allowing Terry to continue his self-serving game, until a phone call from his secretary informed me of their affair. He even gave her diamond jewelry, while I managed a small ballet studio and was careful with every dime.

  Oh, I certainly followed my father’s advice to the letter about being good and honest. I was too good and too honest with everyone, but myself. I was the one left bankrupted emotionally, financially and abandoned. Taking away all that I believed to be decent and true, leaving me in desperation crying out that something must be really wrong with me to have this happen.

  Betrayal made worst by my father, because h
e blamed me for the failure of the marriage and the loss of his son substitute. Seems it was acceptable to my father that Terry drank, gambled and had affairs. I was the one blamed for not putting up with it. Even though, it did anger him at Terry when he saw the hurt in my eyes and what all I had to deal with.

  Being a naïve Pollyanna, I never thought I’d experience such betrayal from anyone especially my father whom I looked up to and loved so much. I believed so totally in good that it was all I could see—unable to recognize evil, until after it had already done its damage.

  Members of my family took from me whatever they wanted infiltrating my life like birds picking at prey. Turning my whole world upside down and taking away forever the trust and admiration, I’d felt for any of them.

  Surviving only by mustering all the strength I could. I desperately held onto the hope that someday I’d be loved because I was honest and good. Surely, God sees this and someday, I’ll be blessed.

  I began an interior design business and it felt like I had awakened from a bad dream and become conscious for the first time, but all I got was criticism. Mother, who never worked outside the home didn’t approve of anyone in sales. In her eyes, selling art and antiques made me beneath her as she gloated that I wasn’t married to a man who could take care of me. To her this was the worst failure a woman could have.

  Meeting the second man, I married seemed like fate as we bumped into each other all over town—sparking the faith that there might be a future with love after all. Dustin was quiet, intellectual and moody with a kind of Bogart appearance and persona. Attractive in a mysterious way, except he smoked and drank, both of which I despise. Only desperately needing to feel affection from a man along with our mysterious magnetic pull, I became unconscious again and able to over-look the very things I hate.