Searching For Andromeda 21 Joana Hughes

"Dear, make sure Joana receives the utmost comfort," says George Denmark to his wife. "I'm delighted seeing you make friends."

Sarah Denmark chuckles, as she kisses the cheek of her husband. "Oh, Dear. You make me feel embarra.s.sed,"

George Denmark smiles as he beheld two women standing before him. Beside his wife was a rather unexpected guest. He fixated his eyes upon her—she had honey-brown curls and olive-green eyes. Freckles also spread lightly all over the bridge of her nose to the red of her cheeks.

This was Joana Hughes—Ephraim's mother.

"I—I really didn't expect the President to be your husband, Sarah,"

Sarah giggled. "Well, I really don't like flaunting it out. He's not that big of a deal!"

George Denmark smiles. "Really, Dear?"

Sarah smiles sweetly. "Just joking,"

"Oho," Joana covers her lips slightly, as she hides her smile.

"What is it, Mrs. Hughes?" George Denmark asks.

"It's nothing," Joana answers. "It's just that, I hope my husband is that affectionate with me,"

"Oh, Joana . . ." Sarah pouts. "Tell me about it!"

"Why don't you two go with me to the courtyard for some tea?" George offers. "And if you two don't mind, I would like to know how both of you got this . . . close."

As the three of them headed to the courtyard, the maids instantaneously served them pastry and tea. Both Joana and Sarah started to chatter, telling George how they met (they had met because George and Sarah's child was the betrothed of Lucas' sibling. Since Lucas is close to Ephraim's family, Joana was easily introduced to Sarah).

"Now that reminds me," says George. "Since you are my student's mother, I'm quite curious where he got such intellect."

"Ooh! Me too!" Sarah exclaims. "Can you tell us your life story—er, if you don't mind, Joana?"

Joana Hughes smiles, "it's alright. I don't usually go around telling people the story . . . but I suppose I can make an exception."

"Are you sure? I asked you to teach me to make a quiche and now we're asking you to tell us your life," Sarah pouted. "Aren't I being too intrusive?"

"No, no," Joana smiles warmly. "I'll be delighted to tell."

"Oh?" George Denmark's eyes gleamed. "Please do, Mrs. Hughes. I'm very curious."

Joana smiles once more and takes a deep breath.

"Well, all of it started when I was in college."

**

When Joana Hughes was a simple college student at a community college, her life was akin to a monochromatic film. She pursued history because she wanted to be with her boyfriend. She was a mundane teenager living a mundane life. Except . . . her boyfriend was a straight-up nerd. He wasn't a jock (boys she fantasized about), nor an art student who works out. Even in a monochromatically boring life, she was expecting a bit of spice.

But she ended up with a boring nerd.

Whom she loved a lot.

The guy's name was Manuel Marcus Hughes. Aka Mu0026M, as Joana liked to call him. The only redeeming thing about Manuel was his tousled, ink-jet black, curly hair. He had piercing blue eyes and delicately carved jaw. He looked an angel with head buried in a book. It was Joana who confessed, and then he easily agreed to date her with no question asked.

They were an odd couple. Joana was neither bookish nor smart. She was a C student, and one you could call 'happy-go-lucky,'—Joana Dakota was a n.o.body with uninteresting quirks—whereas Manuel, on the other hand, was a nerd with a feminine vibe.

They did not complement each other at all.

But for some reason, Joana was drawn to Manuel. She wasn't entirely sure why—however, it felt good to be closer to him and be affectionate with him. Their relations.h.i.+p lasted for a year until college came and Manuel chose to study History in a community college. Joana was supposed to study Nursing, but then again, she had this irrational yearning to be with Manuel 24/7. She decided to follow him—and study History with him in a local college.

And so followed her demise.

History wasn't pleasant for an extroverted happy-go-lucky. Joana wasn't bookish and mostly slept through lessons in her high school. She had to force herself in listening to boring lectures and take practicals she didn't even fancy. It was to her horror when she realized History wasn't working out for her.

But Manuel was eager. He was pa.s.sionate about it.

"Why do you like the past so much?" Joana asks.

". . . well," Manuel lifts his head which was buried in a book. "It's because it's the most real thing the world could offer."

Joana did not understand what Manuel said back then. Not even a bit she understood anything in History. Although she was able to spend some time with Manuel, hang around his dorm almost every day (which leads to something more than hanging out)—she was on the verge of dropping out. She was one of those students whose names were on either the last page of ranks, or those who pa.s.sed. She was barely surviving college.

But she graduated in time, eventually. (Thanks to cheat sheets, and cheating techniques she honed over the course of many years). Even after graduation, Joana failed to land herself a decent job. She wasn't fit to be a History teacher since she disliked reading. Being an instructor meant to study the lessons all over again. She tried (it lasted for a year) but she herself wasn't buying that. She quitted immediately when she realized History wasn't really for her. At age 25, she decided it was the time she comes up with new beginnings.

And that was the time Joana Dakota decided to become Joana DakotHughes.

If she can't work, then maybe she should just become a full-time housewife and marry the man she loves. The reason for her demise. The one she chose instead of a college degree she wants. The reason she was always sleeping in boring lectures.

Manuel Hughes.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes," says the doctor. "I'm sorry for your loss."

They had their first try. The child was stillborn, which wasn't even a fetus yet with any gender. The child died because Joana was sick.

If she can't work and bear a child, then what's her purpose?

Both Manuel and Joana tried and tried. It took them several months before life finally bloomed within Joana.

And it was unexpected.

"Twins," she exclaims as she covers her lips. "We're having twins, Manuel!"

"Yeah."

Joana didn't see Manuel's expression that day. He turned away from the ultrasound monitor at that time, making Joana unable to see how he reacted.

Joana was the happiest of them all. Manuel was taking extra care of her, and her family was there to support her with all their might. She named her boys with a meaningful name. One with a Hebrew meaning of 'fruitful,' and another with a Galacian meaning of 'fire'.

Ephraim and Ignacio.

Her twin blessings.

"He isn't crying!"

"His breaths are faint!"

"The other boy started to cry now!"

"His pulse is getting weaker!"

She wasn't thinking nor hearing clearly. Her gaze was a blur from exhaustion and fatigue—all she remembered were the nurses shuffling back and forth as they tend to her sons. She could hear her boys' sobs, and loud yelps, and some faint cries and silent coos.

Until there was silence.

"Time of death, 3:31 AM."

. . . she listened.

Her firstborn was dead.

"His name will be Ephraim Ignacio." Says Manuel. "He is both Ephraim and Ignacio."

"Ignacio is gone, Manuel . . ." Joana exclaims silently. "I don't think it's a good idea to—"

"He will be a fruitful fire, Joana." Says Manuel, as he stares at the child in Joana's arm. He eyed the baby with an expression Joana couldn't read, let alone understand. It was one of the things Manuel made confusing for her.

"He will be a fruitful fire," Manuel says. "The fruit of fire from both past and present."

Joana tried to smile, despite the sorrow she feels. "You jest, Manny. Past and present? My baby isn't a time traveler,"

Manuel glances over the child.

"Ephraim Ignacio," he says. "What a name to behold."