Second Chance with Love

by Hart, Alana

  She was a mother now and she still felt like a fraud, she didn't have the letter but she knew her failure to create a good family for Aaron felt even worse than when she took the letter from her mother. Both circumstance, going against her mother by taking the letter from her room and not telling her and not having a father for Aaron both had her sitting up at night, feeling like a fraud and anticipating the arrival of her mother.

  God has given her strength to cope without Nathan in her life. But with Nathan's return should he start asking questions, she would have to tell him the truth.

  Hilda flipped through her cell phone, seeing pictures of Aaron smiling. Seeing Nathan in his face. Aaron, Nathan's son, was a constant reminder of his father. Not a day went by that she was confronted by Nathan through Aaron.

  Taking a deep breath, Hilda got up and grabbed a towel. The bathroom was across the hall. She went into the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror. As she sat in the bath she tried to relax and forget Nathan and her mother , but it was futile, the tussle of conflicting thoughts ran rampant in her mind. Aww, I really want to sleep tonight, Hilda thought. But she knew sleep wasn't going to come easily with her surging fears. Please mother, if you must stay, just stay away from me. Hilda chastised herself. How could she think such a thing about her mother? Was this any way to speak of Aaron's grandmother? What if he would develop such bad habits towards his grandmother? God said to honor thy parents, but she dishonored her mother. Before she spiraled down to negative thoughts that would've been impossible to escape, Hilda took a deep breath. She peered into a mirror to see how the dark circles around her eyes made her look like a zombie.

  She stared up underneath the top bunk. She knew from this hour onwards she would be waking in fitful spurts, recalling flashes of dreams and regrets that would seem so real in the night. Some of what haunted her sleep would be actual memories that would shame her and some would be her imagination going into overdrive. Either way, both were going to suck. And she didn't look forward to the morning feeling of grogginess and lethargy.

  Hilda was crying. She picked Aaron up, holding him, hugging him. She closed her eyes and exhaled, certain no one saw the thin tears. She had practiced this over the years, crying in public. Abigail, Charles, church members Rosa and Carlos had driven Aaron from the airport. Hilda would have been there when the plane came in, but she had to go into the village and.

  "I see you are looking thin as ever, Hilda." The words were followed by a tut and a long sigh that cut like a knife edge. Hilda turned towards a face which, but for the peppery gray hairs and wrinkles, resembled her own.

  "Hello, mother." Hilda hugged her mother.

  That morning before Hilda had dragged herself out of bed, then collapsed onto her knees and pressed her shaking hands together. Her hands shook from fear, worry and, tiredness. She prayed, "Oh, Lord, please give me strength, patience, and understanding to not react if my mother tries to provoke me into an argument. Nothing I have done has ever pleased her, I am never good enough for her. And I'm afraid her opinions could influence Aaron's perception of me.”

  The usual accusations Hilda's mother hurled was that Hilda was an unappreciative, rebellious, and stupid girl. The berating always proved too much for Hilda, causing a migraine to strike and making Hilda feel caged in her pain.

  Justine Borja watched Hilda as she read Mark 4:35-40 to to the classroom, where Jesus calmed the storm. Justine pursed her lips at Hilda. Hilda was aware that her mother was watching, her voiced would not stop quavering.

  "I respect your decisions Hilda," said her mother in an unusual soft tone. "I just fail to understand what it is you think you'll accomplish on a short term mission trip?"

  Hilda gazed in disbelief at the woman who sat kitty-corner to her, arms folded.

  "Sorry mother?" Hilda avert her eyes from Rosa's smiling face, just at the point where Rosa twisted to look over at Hilda's mother, at which point the attention of the rest of the children were also pulled toward the corner where her mother sat.

  The triumph that pasted Hilda's mother's face never took the form of smile. Had Hilda witnessed her mother smile that moment, she would have been left awestruck, a smile before a verbal assault did not fit her mother. Also, Hilda was unable to remember the last time she saw her mother smile. The triumph that wrapped Hilda's mother's face was conveyed through a permanent scowl.

  "A waste of time and money." Hilda's mother leaned back in a chair and folded her arms. "These kids need people who are willing to stay with them beyond a few weeks."

  Hilda didn't want her mother embarrassing her. She looked at Aaron who sat at the front. Like everyone else he stared at his grandmother.

  "Mother, please I'm trying to teach the class."

  "Go ahead then, I'm just giving my opinion.”

  Hilda's mother rose slowly and walked out.

  Chapter 8

  Nathan slumped into a chair by the bed and dropped the bag filled with his dirty overalls by the door. He dressed in shorts and a vest. There was something so great about a hot bath and a soft duvet after his body, caked with mud on the verge of collapse, made a mechanical walk to the bed. However, Nathan's battered feet, stubbornly refused another step, therefore he ended up crumpled at the side of his bed. In the neighboring bed snored Jośe.

  The entire week was a system of work where many of the men and women of the different churches worked to tackle water drainage by building ditches for almost every house destroyed by the mudslide. When Nathan saw how much work needed to be done, he threw himself into it with an obsession. The first to the site; the last one to leave. He found himself working alongside a man named Junot, who had an infectious smile, humbling. Jośe translated Junot's tragedy. During the mudslide Junot was helpless as his wife and daughter were carried away in the rapid surge. And now only God knew his daughter and wife's whereabouts. Junot worked hard.

  His first task on was described by the splinter-toothed builder as "involved", which he found meant climbing along a rope set over the mass of sweeping earth and materials to look for survivors. Nathan was part of the team who had to search through the wreckage. Piles of rocks and mud had destroyed most houses and caused irreparable damage to others.

  "Clearing detritus" was what they called their efforts, which took a lot of work and it got to the point where Nathan's skin felt like scorched earth, his thoughts dry, so each gulp of water become rusted nails, his mouth was a baked.

  Meeting Junot and seeing the man's faith in adversity, Nathan didn't know if he would be strong enough if anything happened to Hilda or his…

  As Nathan sat in the dark, there persisted a nagging feeling that he was missing something. It was at the back of his mind as if he were unintentionally dismissing the possibility of... of what? Nathan thought to himself, there's more to Hilda's story than she's telling me?

  Something stirred in the room sending Nathan's senses into overdrive, causing him to flinch.

  "Nathan, back so late again?" Jośe's voice floated to Nathan.

  "Sorry, if I startled you." Nathan throat was sore from dehydration. "About to crash out and call it a day."

  "You'll be back to the hotel tomorrow. I'll return in a few weeks. It's going to take a long time before we can restore the lives of our brothers and sisters."

  "I wish I could join you." For Nathan, working with the villagers brought him a sense of purpose, something not experienced since leaving the military.

  "You don't want to return to the States? I think your family would miss you, no?"

  "I would miss them. But there's a lot of work to be done here."

  "Don't you have work back at home?" Jośe sat up, and sat on the side on the bed facing Nathan.

  "I’m in venture capital financing at the moment," Nathan had to hold himself back from saying in no longer enjoyed it.

  "Oh, that sounds wonderful."

  "But I've always been a hands-on kinda guy. In my job, I don't really need to meet my clients anymore."

  "Ma
ybe you'll extend your stay? You are such a hard worker. The program needs as many hands as possible." Jośe silhouette seemed to stretch.

  "There is something I must tell you." Nathan rubbed his hand over his hair and he pulled on it. The silence was drawn out like a delicate wine “I'm not actually part of a mission program." Saying the words aloud dispelled the illusion of his own making. No longer under the protection of the deception, Nathan could finally understand the fallacy of the arguments he believed rationalized his presence in Guatemala, for her, to resolve the past, re-establish a connection if not a relationship, especially as Charles was her boyfriend. Most of all Nathan wanted to show her that he'd changed, that he was not the dominating, career-driven Nathan she knew five years ago, who in fact didn't know himself. But, sitting in the dark with Jośe passing silent judgment, Nathan realized the he might have not changed at all, expecting Hilda to just accept him in her life was as big a folly as him being here. "I'm sorry for not being honest. It wasn't my intention to dupe you, or anyone for that matter. It's just..." Nathan couldn't say any more. What more was there to say, that he was foolish and impulsive? Testosterone afflicted? That turn up here, he'd hoped maybe...?

  "Do not apologize. I already knew." The older man's voice was gentle.

  "You knew?" Nathan’s body was seized by tension.

  "Yes. I do keep a close eye on all members of the...mission."

  Nathan wanted to see the expression on Jośe face, to see whether the look on his face matched the kindly level in his tone.

  "Why didn't you just ask me to leave?" Though appreciative of Jośe's generosity, in Nathan's experience, a person's generosity was conditional.

  "Well, of course I was curious to begin with, but when I saw that you were willing to push yourself to work hard, so hard to the point of exhaustion, I concluded that your intentions were overall good."

  "I see." Nathan let out a deep breath and felt the tension ease from his shoulders.

  "Also, I must add, you didn't lie, as no one asked you. When a number of the organizers suggested we confront you, I thought it better that we keep a close eye on you and carry on with our assignment.”

  So others knew? Nathan felt more foolish by the minute, he was usually more levelheaded.

  "Why did you come here, Nathan?" It was as if Jośe extracted these question from Nathan's mind. Nathan shook his head.

  "I don't know now. First there was a girl – an ex-girlfriend. I didn't know what I was doing."

  "Ah, for love. Now I understand. Who, may I ask, is the woman?"

  Chapter 9

  "Have you decided on a husband yet?"

  Hilda had to paused before a sudden coughing fit came on. She had been lost in telling her mother about the progress of the mission and their plans to return, that she hadn't expected the question. They sat in the breakfast area of the hotel. Hilda shared a

  table with her mother and Aaron.

  "Mother, it's not like there are is a group of prospects lining up to marry me."

  Hilda's mother gave her a weak smile – it seemed to be all should could muster in terms of optimism.

  "Charles. He is a good man who cares for you, plus you have to work that awful job, he even said so himself.”

  "He did?" Hilda looked over at Charles, who waved to her with a piece of toast in his hand. "I'm perfectly able to manage my life without Charles' support." Hilda's turned to Aaron and began cutting the fruit on his plate.

  "I'll just go back to my room and lie down."

  "You're not going to go sightseeing?" Hilda felt the welling up of disappointment in her chest.

  "The sight I've seen already," she looked from Aaron to Hilda, "is quite enough." She rose slowly from the table, keeping her eyes ahead.

  "But mom." Hilda reached out to touch her, but her mother wrested her arm from her grip. Hilda watched her walk away.

  "Mom, where's gran going?"

  "She's just going back to bed."

  "Why?"

  "She’s very tired." Hilda could not bring herself to imagine the dissatisfaction she brought her mother. Her mother was wholesomely intent on organizing what she perceived as Hilda's already botched-up life. Hilda knew she had to try and help her mother to understand that she had to live her life.

  The onset of adulthood never carried weight when the time came for Justine Borja to relinquish her hold on Hilda. The authority her mother exercised and harnessed with bit and bridle, though well-meaning, inserted her will into Hilda's life for the purpose of fulfilling her own wishes. Hilda didn't like to admit it, but her mother sought to live vicariously through her. She made sure her daughter went into modeling from the age of seven. She won most competitions. She forced Hilda into the popular groups. Even though Hilda never felt like she quite fit in, she preferred to be quiet. And so she became a target. Her so-called friends suggested she dye her hair, because it was looked like a carrot, her complexion was too pale, her body too thin. With the daily abuse, Hilda distanced herself from the popular girls and found solace in her father's letter. Hilda hid the pinch marks and cruel notes that came through the mail-box. Hilda wondered at times whether her mother simply chose to ignore the obvious, such as her hair being short at times, or moments where her mother had caught her crying. And even though Hilda was finished with the popular crowd, they were not necessarily finished with her. Jocks would force her to kiss them and promised that if she would be their girlfriend, her problems would end.

  Hilda watched as Aaron painted with Lucretia, and she smiled as she watched both children whisper together. She found it hard to believe she was ever so innocent, yet she knew it was true. When she first gave herself to Christ she felt renowned. Her sins had been forgiven and she'd been hugged... at that time she was 15 and her mother had allowed her to attend a summer school. Her mother had not thought much of the fact it was a Christian summer camp, but when Hilda return and told her mother that she had become a Christian, Justine Borja had laughed in disbelief. Yes, Hilda's mother had been raised a Christian and she still considered herself one, but Hilda's upbringing was different. Hilda had been groomed to have a successful life and not worry about miracles. Life was hard and the way to get ahead was to be active. Hilda was happy when her mother allowed her to attend church regularly and get saved. She watched her daughter in a sort of languid, amused way. As long as it didn't interfere with her studies and the direction her mother wanted her to go than it would be fine. This was the understanding that they had, or better yet this was the rule that her mother made.

  But ever since she became a Christian, Hilda began to see the world a bit differently, she had another perspective. Whereas in the past, her mother was the only authoritative lens to see the world through, now Hilda turned to the God and the bible. She learned that material gain was not really a gain, and that ambition was not the sole reason to live and strive and work. She also gained an interest in helping people. When she learned about mission groups, it excited her. Instead of working just to help herself get ahead, she could work and help others less fortunate.

  At the sound if this, Hilda's mother was disgusted and would never allow it. Also she dismissed Hilda's talent as a photographer, when Hilda showed photos she used to take when her and Melanie went to the park.

  Hilda knew her mother blamed Christianity for the way her daughter lived her life, that a life of mission work would eventually lead to poverty. But Hilda always felt her mother's fears were not grounded.

  "Mother, I know I have let you down." Hilda sat by as her mother laid back indulging in the sun's rays.

  "Well, it is too late for you. I will look after my grandson. Quite frankly, you are not fit to do it."

  Hilda felt the sensation of an eruption inside her chest, she pressed her hand to her heart.

  "Mother, how can you say that? You've seen how I much I give to my son. I love him more than anything in the world."

  "Well, put an end to this gallivanting around the world attempting to be mother Teresa. Find a
good husband. Haven't you had enough fun yet? I'm already the laughing stock at the country club, I'll have you know."

  "Well, mother, this no longer has to be about you. You can let me live my own life." Hilda felt anger mixed with hurt, but she pushed her hand over her chest and forced the worlds from her mouth. "I am happy and I don't need a man to validate me as a parent. If the right person comes along, I'll be happy, but right now I have t o live the best life I can and make Aaron proud of me as a mother."

  "How dare you." Hilda's mother sprung up, holding her chest. “You think raising you by myself was easy? After all my work, you want to live a life of mediocrity, and ruin generations with your irresponsible decisions?"

  "I know you had it hard after dad died. But I thank God every night for giving me a caring mother. You looked after me though and raised me right."

  At this Hilda's mother seemed to flinched and her lips curled as if she were having a facial spasm.

  "Well, I don't thank God for having a daughter such as you. Do you want to know what I say when I remember to pray at night?" Justine's eyes looked wild.

  Hilda felt a lump in her throat form. She shook her head, as she knew she didn't want to her what her mother had to say.

  "No, you don't want to know, huh." Her mother reclined, but was clearly still tense with anger. "I ask God why he left a curse instead of a daughter."

  Hilda's jaw dropped. When she realized she was crying, her face was already wet. She vibrated with suppressed rage. Without another word Hilda stood and walked back to the playground.

  When Hilda reached the school she saw another test waiting for her. Charles. Though Hilda had been wiping her face incessantly, there was little time to disguise that she had been cringe during her slow walk back. And now Charles blocked her access to the playground.