by Kathy Macias
Tyler’s voice returned to a whisper, but he nearly hissed as he talked. “So what if something happens to her? Will you still feel the same way?”
An arrow of fear pierced Brittney’s heart, but she clenched her jaw and continued. “I hope and pray nothing happens to her and that she comes home safe and sound. That’s all I can do. She’s an adult, you know—and so are we. We need to act like it.”
Tyler shook his head and turned away, waving his hand in the direction of the restroom. “Go fix your hair. You look like a wild woman.”
Brittney felt her eyes narrow. She understood how Tyler felt, but she didn’t appreciate his attitude. Biting back words that could only make things worse, she stood up from the table and headed for the restroom, her hair flying and bouncing behind her.
JULIA HAD SURVIVED THE WEEKEND, including attending the Sunday morning service with the Barneses. She’d come to the conclusion that it was easier to go with them on a regular basis than to try to come up with plausible excuses every Sunday morning and Wednesday evening. Besides, there wasn’t that much else going on during those times, so she might as well become as much a part of the life of La Paz as possible.
She had to admit that she enjoyed the simple, humble words and messages of Padre Ramon. Each time she heard him speak to the congregation or spoke with him one-on-one, her respect for him grew. He was a good man with strong convictions and an uncompromising faith. He wasn’t bad to look at either, in his own unpretentious way, but she pushed that thought away every time it tried to make inroads into her heart or mind.
Now it was Monday, and the school day was over. The children’s playtime was drawing to a close, and as usual, Itzel sat on the bench, head bowed and silent. Though she knew it was probably pointless, Julia decided to make an effort to speak with the child.
“How are you, Itzel?” she asked in Spanish as she joined her on the bench.
The little girl didn’t raise her head. “Estoy bien,” she mumbled, assuring her she was fine. Then she coughed.
It wasn’t the first time Julia had heard her cough that day, and despite the child’s reply that she was well, Julia wondered if it were true. Hesitantly she reached out her hand to touch the girl’s forehead. It was hot.
Itzel drew back, glancing up only long enough for Julia to see the fear in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Julia said, scooting closer but being careful not to touch her again. “I noticed you’ve been coughing today, and I think you might have a fever.”
Itzel’s head was once again bowed, her shoulder-length black hair hanging forward and covering her face. She didn’t answer.
“Can I help?” Julia asked. “Would you like a glass of water? Or you can come to my cottage and lie down until your abuela gets here.”
She shook her head.
Julia sighed. She supposed there was nothing she could do now except wait until the girl’s grandmother showed up to walk her home.
In less than twenty minutes the old woman arrived. The moment Itzel heard her voice calling her name, she jumped up from the bench but swayed a moment before regaining her balance. Julia stood up and put an arm around her, holding her until the grandmother joined them.
“Come,” the old woman ordered, ignoring Julia. “We go home.”
Itzel tried to respond, taking a shaky step in her grandmother’s direction. But Julia sensed the girl was still woozy.
“She’s not feeling well,” Julia said, hoping the old woman understood her not-quite-perfect Spanish. “Maybe we should let her lie down for a few minutes. Señora Barnes has nurse’s training and can take a look at her.”
The old woman’s head jerked upward, and her dark eyes blazed. “No! No nurse. We go home. Now.”
Julia swallowed and nodded. “All right. I hope she feels better soon.”
She stepped back and watched as Itzel and her grandmother began to walk toward the main gate. It was obvious they were both struggling, as Itzel leaned against the old woman. As the gate opened to let them out, Julia made a heart decision that bypassed her mind. She ran to join them, stopping on the other side of Itzel and once again slipping her arm around the girl’s waist, falling into step with them. The grandmother glanced at her briefly, but said nothing as the three of them made their way down the dirt road leading away from the compound.
MARIE LAWSON HADN’T FELT so invigorated in a very long time. She’d attended the homeless ministry meeting with her friend Ginny Morales on Saturday, gone to church with John on Sunday, and then spent Monday morning helping out at the homeless shelter. She hadn’t had any direct contact with the residents at the ministry, but she’d devoted the first several hours of the day to cooking the biggest pots of vegetable soup she’d ever seen. Now, as she rode in the passenger seat of Ginny’s car, she was tired but pleased.
“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
Ginny’s question drew her attention from her jumbled thoughts. She pulled her eyes from the window, where she’d been staring, unseeing, at the passing scenery.
“I did.” She smiled. “I enjoyed it very much. I can’t imagine why I waited so long to agree to help out.”
Ginny nodded and returned Marie’s smile. “I knew you would. I was the same way. I resisted every invitation to join that ministry until I just flat ran out of excuses. I finally decided to go—just once—so I could say I did, and I planned to make that the end of it.” Her smiled widened. “I’ve been going every week since, and that was four years ago.”
Marie chuckled. “I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one.” She shook her head. “To be honest, I think the thing that held me back most was thinking I’d feel so guilty about how much I had when I saw those who had so little. But as it turned out, I scarcely caught sight of any of the people living there.”
“And you won’t for a while,” Ginny explained. “We try to keep your direct involvement with the residents to a minimum at first—not so much for your sake as for theirs. They grow attached to us and consider us their friends. We want to be sure you’re going to make a commitment to keep coming at least once a week before we introduce you to them.”
“That makes sense.” She sighed. “I can’t even imagine how those people must feel, living in that shelter as they do.”
Without taking her eyes from the road, Ginny reached over and patted Marie’s hand. “They feel very fortunate because the shelter is so much better than the streets—and that’s where most of them came from and where so many still live right now. We’re only able to help such a small percentage of those who need us. But at least we help some.”
Tears stung Marie’s eyes. Since leaving the shelter minutes earlier, she’d wondered whether or not she’d commit to going again. At that moment she no longer wondered. In fact, she couldn’t wait to return.
CHAPTER 11
THE SMALL WOMAN IN THE EMBROIDERED RED BLOUSE, long black skirt, and black shawl draped over her shoulders trudged along quietly, with Itzel and Julia in tow. Julia made mental notes of all landmarks along the way, though so far they hadn’t made any detours from the main road.
After about fifteen minutes they finally veered right, off the road and into a small gathering of low breeze-block buildings, most with thatched roofs. Chickens wandered and pecked at the ground at will, oblivious to the handful of malnourished dogs also prowling the area. Suspicious eyes peered from dark doorways as the three females passed by. Julia tried to offer a smile to the first of the observers, but gave up when a stone-faced response was all she got.
Without a word the old woman stopped in front of one of the smaller homes. “Gracias,” she said, her head lifted defiantly as she glared at Julia.
Before Julia could answer, Itzel and her grandmother had disappeared inside the house and closed the door behind them. Julia thought about knocking, hoping to gain admittance, but she realized it would be a futile attempt. Sensing a darkness sweep over her, despite the bright sunshine overhead, she turned away and began the journey back toward La Paz
, conscious of the many warnings she’d received about not being outside the compound alone. But what else could she have done? It was obvious Itzel wasn’t well, and her grandmother didn’t appear strong enough to get the girl home without help. Julia had done what she had to do, and now she had to get herself back—safely and quickly.
She picked up her pace, her face straight forward yet feeling the stares that seemed to bore into her back. She’d been told that strangers were not welcome here, and now she knew it firsthand. But if all strangers were viewed as dangerous and even evil, why did Itzel’s grandmother continue to bring her to school every day? It certainly wasn’t required, and the vast majority of the area’s residents had nothing to do with anyone from La Paz.
The question haunted her all the way until the gates of the compound came into sight and she breathed a sigh of relief.
RAMON SPOTTED HER the minute she walked through the compound gates—alone. His heart raced at the implications. Where had she been? Did she realize how foolish it was to leave La Paz by herself?
Without taking time to think or pray, he intercepted Julia on her way to her cottage.
“Where were you?” he asked in Spanish. “Why did you go out alone?”
The look of surprise on her face quickly took on a tinge of annoyance as she stopped and faced him.
“Excuse me?”
She had answered in English, so Ramon did the same, already feeling some remorse at his confrontational attitude. “Forgive me, señora, but . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. “I should not have approached you in such a manner, but I was concerned. Surely the Barneses have warned you about going outside alone.”
The woman’s face softened, and Ramon found himself wondering how a woman in her late forties could still appear so young and attractive. As quickly as the thought had come, he brushed it away.
“I’m sorry too, Ramon,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “I should have realized how personal this is to you . . . with . . . what happened to Rosa. And truly, I hadn’t planned to go out alone, but . . .” She withdrew her hand and tried to explain. “Itzel became ill; I believe she has a fever. I offered to let her lie down in my cottage until her grandmother came, but she refused. I made the same offer to the grandmother when she arrived, and even offered to have Carolyn take a look at her, but she refused. She seemed determined to walk Itzel home, despite the fact that the poor girl could barely stand up. That’s when I knew I had to go along and help them.”
Ramon raised his eyebrows. “You went to their home?”
Julia nodded. “Not inside, of course. Just to the door way. The grandmother thanked me and went inside.”
“Did you see anyone else? A father or mother? Sisters or brothers?”
She shook her head. “No. I got the impression it’s just the two of them.”
Ramon was impressed, but also concerned. “Were there others around? Watching you when you arrived?”
She nodded again. “Yes. Mostly from their doorways. No one spoke or acknowledged my presence in any way. Just stared—glared, actually.”
“Exactly what I would expect. You are not welcome there, you know. Neither am I.”
“I sensed that. But . . .” She took a half step toward him. “Padre, if we’re not welcome there, why does the old woman bring Itzel here to school each day?”
Ramon shrugged. “That is a question I have asked myself many times. I have no answer. Sometimes we have to be grateful, even if we don’t understand. This is one of those cases.”
The air hung silent between them for a moment, and then Julia turned back toward her home. “I must go. I have papers to correct and lessons to prepare. Have a nice evening.”
“And you as well, señora.” He watched her disappear inside before returning to his own modest dwelling.
IT WAS THURSDAY BEFORE ITZEL returned to school. Not a word was spoken regarding her illness, though Julia thought she appeared to be back to her usual healthy self. The child simply returned to sitting quietly in the classroom, doing her assignments without complaint or comment, and then waiting on the bench after school until her grandmother came to pick her up.
The old woman also said nothing, not even acknowledging Julia with a nod, but Julia felt that somehow they had made a fraction of an inch of progress, though she’d be hard-pressed to explain why she felt that way.
More than once over the next week, she thought about returning to the old woman’s home and asking permission to come inside and visit. But each time she considered it, she quickly talked herself out of it. Not only had she been continually warned not to leave the compound alone, but she also knew she would not be welcome in the little breeze-block community. For now she would have to be content with trying to break through the little girl’s protective shell as they sat together on the bench each afternoon. Though to date they’d not had an actual conversation, at least Julia sensed the child no longer resented her presence. It was something.
In the meantime, Julia had once again attended the Wednesday evening service at the little chapel. The songs were beginning to sound somewhat familiar to her, and she was becoming more and more interested in and impressed with the simple messages Padre Ramon presented to his little flock.
And now another Sunday had rolled around. Julia surprised herself when she awoke with a sense of anticipation. She realized she was now going to the church services willingly, rather than out of obligation. It was something she hadn’t experienced since she was a child attending Sunday School.
She picked out a simple cotton dress, pink with embroidered flowers, and headed for the door. The minute she stepped outside and into the cold gray morning fog, she quickly turned back to grab her favorite white shawl. Tossing it around her shoulders, she went on her way.
CHAPTER 12
JULIA HAD BECOME ACCUSTOMED to hearing the gentle strains of Padre Ramon’s guitar as she entered the quaint little house of worship. But she was caught off-guard when he glanced up and met her gaze with his as she made her way to a seat near Frank and Carolyn Barnes. Did she imagine it, or had his eyes lit up as he smiled at her in welcome?
Her cheeks warmed at the thought as she returned his smile and then lowered her eyes, as if concentrating on the floor as she settled into a chair. What had gotten into her? She hadn’t acted like this since she was a college girl, enamored of the tall, handsome Tom Bennington, who had so totally won her heart as well as her hand in marriage. Ramon was nothing like Tom—nothing at all. And she was no longer a college girl. She was a middle-aged widow with grown children, for pity’s sake, and she reminded herself to behave accordingly.
Julia had taken a seat beside the center aisle, on the end of a row of six chairs. Carolyn sat immediately to her left, with Frank just beyond that. Carolyn offered her a smile and a pat on her hand when Julia looked over at her.
“So glad you’re here,” Carolyn whispered. “You look lovely in pink. But then, you always look lovely.” She turned to her husband. “Doesn’t she, Frank?”
Frank’s heavy eyebrows rose. He’d been reading from the Bible that lay open on his lap. “Excuse me? Did you say something?”
Carolyn leaned closer to him. “I said that Julia always looks lovely, but especially so today in her pink dress. Don’t you agree?”
Frank still appeared confused, or possibly embarrassed, but he nodded quickly. “Sure. Of course she does.” After a brief smile in Julia’s direction, he returned to his reading.
The soft guitar music shifted to singing, and the congregation rose and joined their voices with the pastor’s. Julia did the same, but she was careful to avoid looking straight at Ramon. The poor man was simply trying to be kind, which was his nature; he wasn’t in any way interested in Julia as a woman. It was obvious he’d been very much in love with his wife and still grieved her death. Julia resolved to keep that in mind.
When the singing concluded and the worshippers had once again taken their seats and the pastor asked them to turn in their Bibles
to the first chapter of Second Timothy, her cheeks warmed again. She had vowed on Wednesday night to start bringing her Bible to the services so she could follow along with everyone else, but she’d forgotten all about it until now. It simply wasn’t something she was used to doing, though her parents wouldn’t dream of going to church without theirs.
Self-consciously she cut her eyes to the left and followed along in Carolyn’s Bible, glad the older woman used one with large print. At some point Carolyn must have realized what Julia was doing and slid the Bible slightly to the right to make it easier for Julia to read.
After the pastor had finished reading the entire first chapter, he looked out over his flock, his face soft with compassion as he spoke to them in Spanish. “That passage of Scripture is a strong call to loyalty and courage, one that applied not only to the young man Timothy but to all believers throughout the ages. But I will confess to you that when I truly stop and think about that, I become uncomfortable. I immediately have to ask myself how loyal and courageous I really am when it comes to taking a stand for my faith.”
Julia lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Somehow she had never imagined the gentle pastor as being anything but strong in his faith. Hadn’t he continued his ministry among the very people who may very well have been involved in his wife’s death? True, he had moved his family inside the walls of the compound, but that was for the safety of his children. It had been the right thing to do, the wise thing. And though the man had never shown her anything but a humble spirit, she had never doubted that his faith was solid. In fact, more than once since coming to La Paz she had found herself wishing her own faith was half as strong.
“The key,” Padre Ramon said, “is focusing on verse 7, which tells us that ‘God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.’ What does that mean?”