The Feria

by Bade, Julia

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  THE FERIA

  JULIA BADE

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  THE FERIA

  Copyright©2012

  JULIA BADE

  Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-099-1

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Acknowledgements

  First and most importantly, I give thanks to God for everything.

  To my husband Eddie: You are my soul-mate. More than a decade later, it still feels like day one. Even amid the lack of sleep, little boys invading our bed at 5 in the morning, karate class, kindergarten, teenagers and diaper duty, it’s the life that we’ve built together, and it’s beautiful. My heart still skips when I hear your truck pull into the driveway, and I know that my love is home.

  To my three little boys, Eddie, Andrew and Daniel, and my bonus babies, Alexa and Benny, who are now almost all grown: I love you with my whole heart and soul. You make me proud every day.

  To my mom and dad: I love you both. You have hearts of gold. Thank you for everything you do for my family and me. Thanks for your unconditional love during the hard times, and thank you for supporting my dreams and goals through college, professionally, and personally.

  To my daddy: I think of you every day, and I hope you are proud. Thank you and mom for always working so hard to give your six children everything we needed and almost always, the things we wanted, even when it seemed impossible. Thank you both especially for getting me my first typewriter and reading every story I typed out.

  To my mother and father-in-law Lupe and Eduardo: I am so blessed to be a part of your family. I love you and your family with my whole heart. Thank you for your son.

  To our grandparents: Grandma Cholita, Grandma and Grandpa Farley, Mama Ramona and Papa Nati: we will never forget you, and we will never stop telling our children about you.

  To my sisters Jenny, Bernie and Becky: You are my best friends. I love you all so much. Growing up with you wasn’t long enough.

  To my brothers John and Tim: Love you guys. Thanks for letting me hang out during my Tom Boy years.

  To my brothers in-law on both sides of my family: there is no “in-law” to me. You’re my brothers. And by the way, Eli, I met you when I was a hyper-active kiddo, and I’m so glad I didn’t scare you into running away! Thank you for everything you do.

  To my sisters in-law on both sides of my family, All my love, respect, and gratitude. You have impacted my life.

  To my best friends, you know who each of you are: You are like my sisters! Thank you for your love and support in everything. It’s been an honor sharing life with you. Michelle, thanks for being my person. Corissa, THANK YOU!

  PART I

  Chapter 1

  Long ago, the Mexican fair, or as Soledad knew it, the feria, would arrive right on schedule, once a year, quietly in the night, and nestle itself just south of the river of a small town called Amistad, México.

  This was a special time in the pueblo, as many men could find temporary work, and some even decided on permanent careers, moving away, often leaving women and children behind with a promise to send money. Many kept their word, and many more started out with good intentions but started new lives with new wives in peculiar towns the feria would take them.

  This was the case with Perla. Perla was married to Roberto, and they had two little children. It was an arranged marriage, but Perla was ever-ready to pursue a successful marriage. But things had gotten difficult a few years in. An economic hardship struck the town when a fever plague tormented the people. Lives were lost, including that of Perla and Roberto’s little daughter, Elena. Perla had fervently nursed her baby for weeks in their quarantined adobe home without so much as leaving her side to eat or drink. The longer the little one held onto life, the more tormented her mother became, fighting to keep Elena alive, battling the raging fever that was ailing the both of them, and trying to make Elena nurse from her almost dried-out breasts.

  Roberto and their son somehow remained untouched, and moved in with Roberto’s father. While many forsake the contaminated house of Roberto and Perla, some brave few went as close as the window to leave food and supplies. Perla, enraged with fear, and manipulated by fever, shunned anyone who attempted to help. Finally, weakness and illness were victorious, rendering Perla helpless and dying.

  Several more days passed before someone realized that Elena was dead, and Perla was close to following her into the afterlife. Perla still clutched little Elena in almost lifeless arms, the body already decomposing.

  Some said, “Let Perla die. It’s too dangerous to save her.” But her piercing cries never stopped, and the people were tormented. Roberto truly loved his wife, and decided to use what little he’d saved, what would have been Elena’s dowry, to lure some men into helping him save his wife.

  As weak as Perla was, the strong village men had to wrestle her out of the house, then set fire to the contaminated home, leaving Elena’s little body to burn. Perla, beyond insanity, was marked for death, and even begged for it in her delirious state. No one knew how she’d survived, but she had. Time passed. Elena and Roberto eventually rebuilt their home, but their lives were shattered beyond that of repair. The display she’d put on during the loss of Elena tra
nslated to her not loving Little Roberto, according to her husband. Her disinterest in Little Roberto also added to her husband’s beliefs. Truthfully, she was disinterested in anything that involved getting up each day and living. She was destroyed.

  As the pueblo worked to rebuild, no one expected the feria to appear, considering all that had happened, including the economic crisis the town faced. But there it was, like magic, south of the river as it always had been.

  A spark was ignited in Roberto. He needed this opportunity. He was hired to clean up after the animals and repair anything that broke. His work was so impeccable, he was offered full-time work, but this meant that he would have to leave town. Guilt tried to deter him, but he didn’t think twice. His wife was no longer with him mentally. She was actually more of a houseguest or a dependent, caring nothing for him or their little boy. Furthermore and more importantly in Roberto’s eyes, he and his son would die if he could not work. Roberto waited until the very last minute, when darkness surrounded the pueblo. Just as the feria was traveling out of the city, he caught up to the caravan, and with the few possessions he had, he tossed his son onto a moving cart and jumped in behind him. They didn’t look back.

  A few weeks passed before Perla received a little money, and then soon after, a little more. Although she understood what her husband had done, she never said much.

  The next year when the feria returned, Perla waited until darkness settled and crossed over the river to the south on a small piece of wood. Shortly afterward, people of all ages were tragically killed during a terrible fire, and the feria suffered a great beating. Perla may have been lost in her own world, but according to many, she’d been smart enough to pull off such a thoughtless action and get away with it. Although many suspected her to have been behind the treacherous fire, no one could prove it.

  The feria, what little was left, packed itself up and left, never to return. Many townspeople departed in order to survive and thrive elsewhere. The town dwindled in number until almost no one remained. Eduardo and his father, horse owners, and one of the wealthier families in the city, sold everything they had and moved their family across the border to Texas. Their bravery and quick thinking saved their lives.

  Soledad was not yet born and hadn’t experienced such a tumultuous time, but she could tell the story as if she were an intricate part of it. She’d heard it over and over throughout the years. She knew her family had had to fight to survive, and no cost was too great to sustain the family name. More than anything, she lamented that she’d never get to experience the stories, the people, the attractions, the food and sounds of the feria.

  Then one day, when she was still just a little girl, across the border that separated Texas and México, something was happening. Just like magic, now a ghostly memory, the feria was suddenly back, healed and strong. While the little town she’d learned to associate it with was more of a legend now, the feria reached out to her grandmother’s hometown of Juárez.

  Ever since the day the magic returned, the feria’s arrival was one of Soledad’s favorite times of the year, and that time was finally here. The feria was all set up, and soon, she’d be on a train from California, heading that way, heading home. For a few short days, everything would be magically transformed. The food, the entertainment, the company, the games, the music, the culture. It all blended together like a beautiful Mexican tapestry, its colors boldly blaring its story. This time tomorrow, she’d be in her precious Mexico at an event she held sacred. Butterflies danced in her stomach at the thought, and she smiled, her far-off eyes inventing all the adventures she’d find there. Soledad couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 2

  The cool California ocean swallowed Soledad. She dove under the water and came up for air, licking the salt on her lips. The warm California sun wrapped around every curve of her body.

  Adios, she thought as she turned and headed back for shore. Seaweed tangled on her calves and ankles. Reaching her towel, she wrapped her hair, then walked freely to the dirt path just beyond the pier. As she approached the dock, she became bashful of the men working on their boats, and removed the red towel from her hair and modestly wrapped it around her body. She was coming into her own, and recognized she was actually quite beautiful with her long, dark brown hair, and dark eyes, but she knew these men would steal inappropriate glances of her, and it made her uncomfortable. Her tan skin glistened in the sun especially her shoulders where her freshly released hair began to drip saltwater onto her arms and down her back.

  It was a different time. Skirts were getting shorter, actresses were dictating what young girls should be wearing, and young girls were getting bolder. World War II was in full swing, the U.S. ready to move into the war, and the few girlfriends Soledad had had given up their virginities to boyfriends readying to go off to war or simply because they were certain life would soon be over and they needed that experience. Soledad didn’t feel the influence or the need to desperately be with someone in that way. She had very few boys who showed interest in her, but that didn’t bother her. Not only that, but her father held a tight rein on her anyway.

  Just passing the church, she made the sign of the Holy Cross. A few more steps and she approached the vintage cottage bungalow. The porch overran the red house.

  “Cholita?”

  “Hola, tía.”

  “Hola, mija.” Her aunt was in the small kitchen. Soledad could feel the heat of the stove as she entered the room. She reached out to kiss her tía’s cheek.

  “I’m sweating, mija.” Her accent was beautiful. She wore underwear on her head to keep her hair out of her food, and had ever since Soledad was little. They worked best, she always said.

  “I’m salty. Nice to meet you.” They laughed. “Where’s my papí?”

  “You just missed him. He said to tell you to get everything together because you two will be departing just after dinner.”

  “Night traveling scares me.”

  Soledad’s aunt stopped patting the floured dough and put a powdered white hand on Soledad’s cheek. “You’ll be safe in the train. It’s sturdy. Nothing will happen, my Cholita. Why do you always think the worst?”

  “My name means solid and health. To remain this way, I have to be careful and worry about things that would make me not healthy. Or dead, for example. Like if the conductor falls asleep!”

  “Ayeee, MIJA!” Her tía sounded angry, slapping her dough onto the smooth flat griddle she used to make tortillas.

  “Kidding!” The mood became suddenly solemn. “I’m going to miss you. Won’t you consider coming?”

  “This is my home, Cholita. What would I be without home?”

  “You could make a new home in El Paso, or even with my abuelita in Juárez. She would never turn a soul away. Plus they’re both beautiful places. Think about it.”

  “My place is here, helping your papá take care of his trees when he is in El Paso. You need to understand how fortunate our family is to have these bendiciones, to have education. Your grandparents worked very hard to teach us to succeed. Now, this is where I belong.”

  “I miss you so much when we are apart. I feel like it will be forever until I see you again when I come back for school.” Soledad stared down at her feet, still covered in sand, her hair almost completely dry.

  Taking Soledad’s face in both her hands, her aunt kissed her forehead. “We are always together, right here.” She moved her hand over Soledad’s chest and an answering hand over her own.

  Things had become tense in California. The war was instilling racial tension not only there but throughout the country. She imagined it was the same at home.

  Soledad hailed from West Texas, El Paso, to be exact, but she also loved passing the time in its sister city, Juárez. She felt a natural affinity to both countries, and crossed the border, often several times a day, visiting her grandmother in Mexico. It was h
er safe place. But she also treasured her visits in California with her beloved aunt. This time when she returned home, though, she was unsure of when she would return. While the plans for Stanford seemed real enough, Soledad’s father wanted her closer to home, closer to the larger part of the family. He hinted at that often. The United States was expected to enter the World War at any given moment, and for as long as the war would go on and incite odd behavior in others, Soledad could very well find herself stuck in El Paso.

  The bathwater felt good, easy as it cleansed her of the last of the saltiness she’d already come to miss. She heard her father arrive. He was the light of her life. Just hearing him in the room next door gave her peace. She cut her bath short. It would be night travel, so she dressed comfortably, throwing on rolled denim jeans and a purple shirt. She pulled up her wet hair into a bun. Her hair was so long and thick, it would still be wet when they arrived in El Paso the next morning. Night traveling was scary to her, but her father insisted it was safer. Nobody bothered anyone in the dark. People were calmer, more accepting, ready to settle in and relax. And if anyone were up to no good, her father would make sure to handle it. He was a brave man. He stood six feet and three inches. His dark hair and eyes mirrored Soledad’s. He was oddly very light-skinned, even considering that he worked in the sun. It was so peculiar.