by Kathy Macias
Carolyn patted her hand again. “Whatever you decide, we’ll stand by you.”
The thought of the familiar Christmas decorations and carols and gatherings danced through Julia’s mind, and she nearly made the decision to take Carolyn up on her offer. But the image of Padre Ramon’s face stopped her.
She frowned. “Do you have a Christmas Eve service? Here at the compound, I mean.”
Carolyn looked surprised. “Sure. It’s a candlelight service, and nearly all our regular parishioners come. Sometimes guests come as well, people who would never come the rest of the year.”
“I see.” Her dreams of Christmas at home seemed to fade as she pictured the tiny La Paz chapel bathed in candlelight, with Padre Ramon playing his guitar and leading the singing. She realized she would have to think and pray a bit more before making her decision.
TYLER AND BRITTNEY had returned to school, relieved to know their mother was safe but still insisting that their grandparents join them in a continued campaign to get her to cut her time short and come home, once and for all.
Marie wasn’t sure. True, there was nothing she’d like better than to have Julia back in the States, working at the high school once again and living just a few minutes away. And yet, if she’d learned anything in the midst of this horrible ordeal when she wondered if her daughter would even make it through alive, it was that she could no longer give lip service to her commitment to serve God—or to her desire to see her family do the same.
She sprayed the old cherry wood dining table and rubbed it with a soft cloth, breathing in the lemony fragrance. When she finished dusting she planned to retrieve a few Christmas decorations from the garage and start decorating. She and John usually did that during Thanksgiving weekend, but even with Tyler and Brittney there to help, they hadn’t gotten around to it this year.
It never even entered our minds, she thought, giving a final swipe to one spot before moving on to the next. We were far too busy worrying about what would happen to Julia and praying for her safe return.
She sighed. You rescued her, Lord. No thinking person could deny it. You intervened in so many miraculous ways and rescued her. But she’s still there, still living in that dangerous, primitive place. What if she doesn’t come back right away? What if she stays and something else happens to her?
The memory of the many hours she’d spent in prayer—alone, with her husband, and with the prayer group from church—caused her to stop polishing the table. She stood still, remembering the joy she’d felt when they’d received the phone call that Julia had been found—that she was safe. She had been so certain that the gratitude and awe she’d felt at that moment would never escape her, that never again would she doubt God’s faithfulness or care.
“Forgive me, Lord,” she whispered. “Forgive my selfishness, please. I know she’s Yours, not mine, and her life is in Your hands—at it should be. Help me to remember that, please.”
What if I hadn’t rescued her? What if she hadn’t been found alive?
Marie’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the back of a chair for support. What if . . .? What if Julia had died or never been found at all? What if they’d had to live the rest of their lives not knowing what had happened to their daughter?
She knew what God was asking her. Would she still love and trust Him then? Even then?
Tears pricked her eyes, and she closed them, breathing deeply to clear her mind. How was she to answer such a question? There really was only one acceptable answer, but how honest would it be if she gave it?
“You know my heart, Lord,” she whispered at last. “I want to say I would trust You, no matter what, but I . . . I’m just not sure.”
A sense of peace enveloped her, rather than the sense of condemnation she had expected. God did indeed know her heart . . . and He loved her anyway. She let the tears come then, grateful that it was God’s faithfulness and not her own that made the difference.
CHAPTER 32
ITZEL WAS EXCITED. It was Monday morning, and she would be returning to school at last. It had been almost two weeks since they’d had their Thanksgiving meal together with their teacher and Padre Ramon, and so much had happened since then.
She walked to school now beside her abuela, thinking of the awful day when she had seen the woman with the red hair, blindfolded yet peering out the window of the big white truck, the one Itzel knew belonged to the mean man who said the bad words. What if the men from La Paz hadn’t rescued her? What would have happened to her then?
She’d overheard her abuela and two of her friends talking at the marketplace soon after the rescue. She knew she shouldn’t have been listening, but she also knew they were talking about her teacher, and she wanted to know what they were saying. One of the curanderas said that great spirits must have protected her. Itzel thought that must surely be true, though she knew the people at the compound said there was only one great Spirit.
They arrived to find the gate open, and soon Itzel was seated at her desk, listening to Señora Bennington telling them about the next holiday they would celebrate. Itzel had thought nothing could be better than Thanksgiving, but the teacher talked about Christmas as if it would be the greatest day ever.
Itzel knew about Christmas—at least, she thought she did. Many celebrated Christmas in her village, even holding a great procession that wound its way through town toward the Church of San Juan. But Itzel’s grandmother had told her that though various Catholic saints were worshipped at that church, no priest was in attendance and no mass had been said in that place for many decades. The shamans and curanderos were in charge, as they were throughout the village.
“Now that you are all back,” the teacher said, grabbing Itzel’s attention, “we are going to decorate for Christmas so we can enjoy it and think about it for many days.”
Itzel thought that sounded like a very nice idea. She had enjoyed helping with the decorating for Thanksgiving, and she looked forward to finding out how they would decorate for this next holiday.
By the end of the school day, when Itzel sat on the bench waiting for her abuela to pick her up, she found herself hoping that Señora Bennington would join her as she often did. She wasn’t disappointed.
“Hello, Itzel,” the señora said as she sat down next to her, the late afternoon sun warming them both. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for helping me.” The woman laid her hand on Itzel’s. The girl thought of drawing away, but she didn’t. Señora Bennington’s hand felt warm and soft. She liked it.
“I know God allowed us to see one another that day. If you hadn’t seen me or told your abuela, I might never have been rescued. What you did was very brave.”
At last she lifted her head, and their eyes met. Itzel was surprised to realize the woman’s eyes were green. Hesitantly, she returned her teacher’s smile. Itzel didn’t think what she’d done had been so brave, but she was pleased to know that Señora Bennington thought so. She wanted to ask her what she meant when she said God had allowed them to see one another that day, but she couldn’t make her mouth say the words.
“You and your abuela helped me so much,” the woman said. “Thank you, Itzel. Thank you very, very much.”
Itzel swallowed. She knew she needed to say something. At last she managed to speak, though even as she said the words she wondered why she had chosen them. “Christmas. I like Christmas.”
Señora Bennington’s face lit up, and her smile widened. “I’m glad to hear that. I like Christmas too. We will start working on our decorations tomorrow. Do you and your abuela go to the church in town on Christmas Eve?”
Itzel felt her cheeks flush. She hoped her teacher wouldn’t think badly of her. Slowly she shook her head. “No. Abuela says she doesn’t like what they do in the church. We . . . never go.”
Julia nodded. “I see.”
A thought seemed to form into words and push its way out before Itzel could stop it. “Do you go to church, Señora Bennington?”
The woman paused slightly,
and Itzel hoped she hadn’t said the wrong thing. Then her teacher smiled and pointed at the little chapel across the courtyard. “I go to that little church there, where Padre Ramon is the pastor.”
Itzel glanced at the small building and then looked back at her teacher. “Will you go there on Christmas Eve?”
The señora’s eyes grew wide, and Itzel felt her hand tense on hers before she answered. “I . . . I don’t know yet, Itzel. Why do you ask?”
“Because I think I would like to go there on that night.”
She heard her teacher gasp, and this time she was certain she had said the wrong thing. Hanging her head, she blinked back tears, waiting for a scolding that was sure to come.
Instead she felt her teacher move her hand to Itzel’s shoulder. “Itzel, that would be wonderful. We would love it if you would come. And your abuela too.”
Slowly Itzel raised her head. Had she heard the señora correctly? The woman’s smile and shining eyes assured her that she had. In that moment she felt a pain she hadn’t even realized she had leave her heart, and she smiled in return.
AS THE DAYS OF DECEMBER PASSED BY, Julia sat out in her tiny patio area, wrapped in a shawl and wondering how she would tell her parents and children that she wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas after all. She knew it was the perfect time to break away for a visit and to reassure their hearts that she was fine—though she knew they would try to talk her out of coming back to complete the school year. But that wasn’t the reason she’d decided to stay. Though she knew it was quite possible that Itzel’s grandmother would refuse to come or to bring Itzel to the Christmas Eve service at the La Paz chapel, Julia knew she had to be here in case they showed up.
She’d already confided in Carolyn that she planned to stay, and she fully intended to try calling her family that night to let them know. Christmas was only a week away now, and she couldn’t leave them hanging any longer.
“It is cool tonight, no?”
The unexpected masculine voice startled her, and she looked up to see Padre Ramon standing a few feet from her, just beyond her patio area. The day had been clear and crisp, but now the sun had set and the evening chill had moved in.
She nodded. “Yes, it is,” she agreed, indicating the chair next to her. “Care to join me, Padre?”
His smile was warm in the dim light that shone through her kitchen window behind her. “I would like that,” he said as he sat down beside her. “But I would like it even more if you would call me Ramon instead of Padre.”
Julia felt her cheeks warm. The kind pastor had mentioned this request to her a couple of times since her rescue, but she still had trouble with the change. “I suppose I should,” she said. “After all, you saved my life. I should call you whatever name you prefer.” She offered a light chuckle, though she knew it sounded forced.
“It wasn’t me. I couldn’t have saved your life on my own, even with Señor Barnes’s help. We didn’t know where to start looking for you or what we would do if we found you.” He turned toward her, sitting just close enough that she could see the sincerity in his dark eyes. “Only God could have directed us, and only He could have protected you as He did.” He shook his head. “It is an amazing thing. Each time I think of how it happened, it humbles me that God allowed me to be part of it.”
Captivated by his eyes, Julia nodded and swallowed. She too was in awe each time she thought of all the factors that came together to accomplish her successful rescue. “I know what you mean,” she said at last. “I know without a doubt that it was God who enabled me to get through that horrible experience and to get back home safe and sound.”
Ramon smiled. “Ah, so now you think of La Paz as home. That is very nice to know.”
The warmth in Julia’s cheeks intensified. “Well, my temporary home,” she mumbled. “I meant . . .”
She stopped, knowing anything she said at that point would infringe on their near perfect moment.
“I know what you meant,” he said, breaking the silence. “I know you still have a home in the States, where your family is. But . . . I would like to think that La Paz has become your second home.” He leaned forward slightly. “You are welcome and loved here, you know.”
Julia swallowed. She did know that, but she couldn’t figure out what to say.
She didn’t have to. Ramon changed the subject. “My children will be home in a couple of days and will be staying until after Christmas. I am so glad you will be here to meet them and get to know them. Marina is so excited that her brother and sister are coming home.”
Julia felt herself relax. It was so much easier when the focus of conversation was on something or someone other than herself. “That’s wonderful, Padre . . . er, Ramon.” She smiled, as did he. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting them, and I know Marina can’t wait to see them again.”
Ramon’s eyes took on a faraway look for a moment, but he brought himself back quickly. “Marina has suffered the most from the loss of her mother.” He smiled then. “She has been sad for a very long time now. But lately I see her looking more cheerful.” He nodded. “It is because of you. She likes you very much.”
Julia felt her eyes widen. Was she reading more into his words than was there? Surely she was. Surely he was making a simple statement, not implying or suggesting anything. But what bothered her most was that his words had so quickly stirred up thoughts in her own mind that had no business being there.
She shivered and drew her shawl around her. “It’s getting cold,” she said, standing to her feet. “I think I’ll go inside now. Thank you so much for stopping by, Padre.”
“Ramon,” he said, smiling as he stood to face her.
“Ramon,” she echoed. “Good night.”
BRITTNEY WAS SITTING AT HER DESK in the room she shared with her roommate, Chloe, though she hadn’t seen the girl since the previous day. Brittney couldn’t imagine how she managed to stay in school.
She sighed. It wasn’t her problem. She’d tried talking to Chloe about it a couple of times and had been told to mind her own business. OK, fine. No more worrying about Chloe, though she would continue to pray for her, something she’d been doing a lot of lately. But right now she had studying to do, enough to keep her up for hours. If only she could concentrate! Christmas was just days away, and she couldn’t wait to get home and spend it with her family—though she still wasn’t sure if her mom would be there or not.
She glanced at the time on her cell phone. Not quite 9:00. Surely her grandparents were still awake.
She speed-dialed their number, and after three rings her grandmother answered.
“Grandma, did I wake you?”
Brittney could hear the smile in her grandmother’s voice. “No, sweetheart, you didn’t. Grandpa and I are just sitting here in front of the fire, talking. How are you? How’s school?”
“Everything’s fine,” she assured her. “I was just thinking about Christmas.”
“That’s what your grandpa and I were talking about too. It’s nearly here, isn’t it? When will you and Tyler be here?”
“Probably on the twenty-second or twenty-third. Is that OK?”
“Of course it is. You know you two are welcome anytime. And your grandpa and I finished putting up all the Christmas decorations today—inside and out.”
“The tree too?”
Her grandma laughed. “No, not the tree. We know how much you and Tyler like to pick it out and decorate it.”
Brittney smiled. “Thanks, Grandma. You’re right. It just wouldn’t be Christmas if we couldn’t help with the tree.” She paused. “So . . . have you heard from Mom? Is she coming?”
The pause alerted Brittney that she probably wasn’t going to like the answer. “Actually, she called just an hour or so ago. That’s one of the things your grandpa and I were talking about.”
“And?”
She heard her grandmother sigh. “And she’s not coming. She says she needs to be there for the Christmas Eve service at the compound.”<
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“Oh.” Brittney rolled the news around in her mind for a moment before answering, surprising herself with her reaction. “I guess that’s OK. It must mean she’s getting over what happened, that she isn’t too scared to stay there and finish the rest of her year.”
Another pause. “I’m pleased to hear you say that, honey. We were just saying the same thing. And . . . well, we believe it’s what God wants for her right now.”
Brittney nodded, though she knew her grandmother couldn’t see her. “You’re probably right. But I want you to know that I haven’t forgotten all the praying we did for Mom when she was missing, and . . .” She took a deep breath. “And I know God answered us. I also know I want to go to church with you and Grandpa on Christmas Eve. And even though I can’t speak for Tyler, I think he might too.”
She could tell her grandma was smiling again. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s great news. It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas!”
EPILOGUE
CHRISTMAS CAROLS PLAYED SOFTLY in the background, piped from Padre Ramon’s old boom box. Julia was the first to arrive in the dimly lit chapel that Christmas Eve, and she settled into a seat in the third row. She knew Padre Ramon would appear with his guitar soon, ready to welcome arriving worshippers with singing. But now she imagined he was in the tiny room off the sanctuary, praying.
Splashes of color from various local plants and flowers decorated the room. Many were variations of the ti plants that had caught Julia’s attention the day she so foolishly wandered off alone into the forest. She closed her eyes. So much had happened in such a short time. Just a few months ago she’d felt at loose ends, without direction or purpose. Now, though she missed her family, she felt as if she’d truly come home, despite the terrifying ordeal she’d endured. She knew she was where she was supposed to be, doing what she was supposed to be doing, and it was a wonderful feeling.
Home. The word carried such varied meanings, so many implications—and raised such a vast array of emotions. She smiled at the memory of her conversation with her parents and children earlier that day. Not only were Tyler and Brittney there with their grandparents for Christmas, but they were all going to Christmas Eve service together—even Tyler.