by Mary Pearson
At first the girls just stood as the hordes flowed around them, impervious to the continuous drizzle and mud-caked roads. But then a boy close to their age separated himself from the flow of people and approached them. “Antonio dos Reis Novo.” Looking like a little gentleman in his grown-up clothes, he held out a hand for Sofia to shake. “You girls look lost and I live here. Can I help?”
Extremely grateful for the offer and feeling a bit stupid she asked, “Where is here?”
“Fatima, of course.” He looked at them with concern beyond his years. “Have you come far?”
Sofia shrugged, “And Fatima is in…”
“Portugal?” The boy looked like he might be reconsidering his offer of help.
“Then, yes.” Sofia exchanged a look with Anna. “Very far. If you don’t mind me asking, where is everyone going?”
“To see the apparition…” Antonio continued to consider them dubiously.
“Right.” Sofia was feeling as dumb as she probably looked. “Since you live here, do you mind taking us there?”
“Not at all.” He looked at them expectantly. “And your name is…”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Sofia. This is my friend, Anna.”
Anna was still looking around mutely. Sofia grabbed her friend’s elbow and dragged her after Antionio.
“Do you mind telling us about the apparition as we walk?” Sofia asked.
“Not at all. I am friends with the children. Lucia is my age and we pasture our sheep together. I never saw the Lady, though. I’m not good like them.”
“You seem very good and helpful to me.”
“Thank you.” Antonio met Sofia’s eyes. “I am trying more these days. Come along, then,” he said, escorting the girls. “We’ll talk as we walk. It’s rather a long story, so-- as my father would say-- best to begin at the beginning. You see, Portugal was Christian for centuries, but then they were conquered by the Muslims who required the people to convert or die. Later, by a great rosary campaign, the Muslims were forced to retreat from my country-- we are very proud of this. I am telling you all this in order to explain how Fatima got its name.”
At this, Anna interjected. “Fatima was the daughter of Mohammed-- right? That’s what Ali told me,” she said this with a glance toward Sofia.
“Ollie is no Muslim, whatever he told you!” Sofia said this disdainfully. “His birth name was Oliver.”
“But your friend is right. Fatima was the daughter of Mohammed, who started the Muslims. But our Fatima was the daughter of the last Muslim who ruled here. She fell in love with a Christian boy, decided to convert and marry him. And when her people withdrew, she stayed.” Antonio took a deep breath. “That’s how my village got its name. In honor of her. Now, as to the apparitions, well no one can see them except the three children-- you will meet them in a minute. The two little ones are brother and sister, Francisco and Jacinta. The older girl is their cousin, Lucia.” Antonio offered Anna his arm as they stepped over a tree branch which had fallen into the narrow road.
“So, anyway, this angel appears to them first and tells them they must pray and make sacrifice.” Now he met their eyes and spoke earnestly. “You see, my country is facing a new threat-- communism. My grandfather told me they would take away all differences to try to make men equal. But one of the chief things they are destroying is our Faith in God. My grandfather said we must fight this to the death. But the beautiful Lady who appears to the three children on the thirteenth of each month says we must pray the rosary for peace. So we are praying.”
The girls could hear this was so. There was a gentle chanting from the sea of people as they were walking. “But no one can see the Lady except for those three?” Sofia said.
“Right. Many believe, although they do not see, because the three children were willing to face death rather than disown the Lady. Two months ago they were taken to the jail, separated, and told they would be boiled in oil unless they said it was a hoax. None of them said anything. Jacinta and Francisco are only 7 and 8, and Lucia, 11.” He allowed this to sink in before continuing. “The Lady has promised a great miracle so that all may see and believe. Today is the day of this miracle.” He gestured to the throngs stretching forward and backward as far as the eye could see. “Today they all come-- believers and disbelievers-- everyone.”
Sofia breathed out. “What will happen if the people cannot see what the children see?”
Antonio met her gaze solemnly. “That’s half of why I came. I’ve been here since the beginning and never do I see this lady. If the crowd gets angry I need to help save the children. They are my friends.”
By now the procession had come to a stop and the rain was increasing. Considering the situation Antonio looked at the girls. Raising one brow he asked, “Are you up for a short cut? It would involve a bit of a hike.”
Sofia looked to Anna, who shrugged.
Beckoning, Antonio plunged into the underbrush beside the trail. The girls struggled to follow since the foliage was quite thick. “Just a little farther and there is a trail,” he said.
Sure enough there was, large enough for the three to walk side-by-side. “The sheep trail I use,” he explained. The path blazed through otherwise uncleared land, much of which terrain was hilly and uneven. “It’s three times as long as the road but, today, I think it will be quicker.” In the end they had to climb up a mountain on barely forged trails, which left the girls breathless. It took the better part of an hour before the children reunited with the crowd, but this time they were right at the front of what appeared to be many thousands of people who were all irritably gathered in a field with several inches of standing rain, which had by now become a downpour. Even those most prepared were soaked to the bone.
Antonio dragged them until they were within ten feet of the visionary children. They were standing by a big tree, with smaller trees around it. Suddenly the rain stopped and the sun started breaking. The older visionary child yelled something and everyone looked up at the sun, which began to roll in the sky and it was shooting off colors in all direction. These colors played across the faces of all the people, who were staring up with wonder.
Then the sun began to plunge from the sky and it seemed it would crush them all. Fearing for their lives, the people began to scream. Some fell to their knees, Anna among them. “Please, God, she begged, forgive me!”
“It is the end of the world!” Antonio cried out. And it did seem to be. Sofia closed her eyes, bracing for the impact. By now the entire crowd was on their knees in the mud, praying for their lives.
Then, just as quickly as the sun had fallen, it rolled back up into the sky. Lucia once again shouted something. “She says we must pray hard,” Antonio told them. Then a strong wind came, stronger than any wind Sofia had ever felt. It would have knocked her over if she had not been held up by the crowd. The strange thing was this wind did not move the trees at all. When the wind stopped, the sun was shining and Sofia was dry. Everyone was completely dry. Even the ground had become firm under their feet. One word sprung from the great crowd. It was murmured and spoken and shouted repeatedly from the lips of everyone there. “Milagro!”
Then the girls began to whirl.
Epilogue
It would be nice to report that because of these events Sofia and Anna became great saints who never committed another sin-- and in truth they were much holier. They participated in a presentation about Fatima at their church. People marveled at them-- they were so convincing. By some accounts there had been nearly 100,000 people present for this great miracle, which had occurred in 1917. It was reported in the newspapers as a miracle of unprecedented magnitude. To this day it remains an unexplained mystery.
The girls were on fire for a few months and then they began to be normal twelve-year-olds. It all started to seem so unreal they assumed they must have been imagining, or at least over exaggerating. Father Andrew didn’t have to pray to bring things back to normal for them, because it just happened naturally. Eventually the girls
didn’t want to talk about what had happened to them anymore. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe, more that they couldn’t have a normal life if they kept thinking about the Hall of Apparitions, which was never visible-- the room had become always and only a broom closet. So no one would believe them if they talked about it. Even the Gonkers looked at them like they were crazy when they talked about their adventures.
But they were better people for it. Anna and Sofia became volunteers at the garden center where Oscar worked. They babysat at the church during religious meetings. And they continued to ballet dance.
Of course Oliver Blom was sent back to prison, this time with a much stiffer sentence.
In the end it was almost as though nothing had ever happened in their little town, except that the church was on fire with devotion. There were more converts each year following Sofia’s adventure. And Father Andrew, as always, was the only one who fully believed in everything that had happened…
And fully expected that someday it would happen again.