by Paul Perea
Gabriella pulled the heavy blanket tight around her shoulders, her head retreating into the warmth as she leaned against the post. She looked out at the fallow field blanketed in light snow and illuminated by the full moon. Off in the distance she could make out two figures—sentinels that never rested. They stood watch over her day and night, cloaked and hidden from all eyes, save for her own.
Gabriella blinked and they were gone again, a mirage vanishing into the half-light. They never went far. Somewhere out there, an anguished Maria and Magdalena continued to stand guard as they waited for news from Mancha and Raven. They had all but given up hope that they would set eyes on either of them again. But that did not sway their determination to remain true to the task at hand.
My babies are safe. Three more months and then I will face Salazar. It will be over, at last!
Subconsciously she placed a hand on her belly and felt life there as she noticed the first stars to appear in the twilight sky. Looking at them gave her some semblance of comfort. Gabriella turned her attention to the moon. She never understood why people talked about the “man in the moon.” She tried but could never quite make him out. She could, however, discern a woman’s face. Her eyes were large and sad, her nose was small, and her lips were full and partially parted as if she were sighing. So alone.
“I understand,” Gabriella whispered to the moon and confessed what was in her heart. “I have nightmares, Moon. People say it’s because I’m pregnant, and pregnancy causes women to have strange dreams, especially with twins. But I don’t think that’s the case. You see, I was born with the veil, the second sight, and in my mind’s eye I see that I may be fated to shimmer as you do, alone and unreachable. But unlike you—you who are loved and admired—I will be bound to the earth, a pale reflection of what I once was, and people will fear and loathe me. I see it in my dreams. And I see him.”
The numbness in her body reminded her that she should get out of the cold so she bid the moon goodnight and retreated into the house. The warmth was immediate as she removed the blanket, tossing it onto a bench by the back door. Her mother had gone out for the day so she was left alone to ponder her secrets and her fears. Months had passed with no word from Mancha, and like Maria and Magdalena, she assumed the worst.
Has Salazar killed Mancha?
The worry was debilitating, and on days like this, a hurtful memory would pay a visit.
She had attributed her sickness to nerves and a broken heart until her worst fears were confirmed by Maria and Magdalena. They had done their best to comfort her but she was stunned by the news of her pregnancy.
Selma was the first person she told and Selma was by her side when she delivered the news to her parents. Her father’s reaction had been swift and startling, slapping her hard across the face and sending her falling onto her bed. With the sting of her father’s hand on her face, she had cried out and begged forgiveness as chaos erupted around her.
Her father lashed out with a verbal tirade, and pummeled her with his hands. He called her a whore and vowed to kill Daniel. Her mother stood screaming for him to stop, to come to his senses, to understand. And Selma, fearless Selma, had thrown herself between her and her father, shielding her with her own body and receiving some of the blows. Selma had clawed, scratched and kicked, calling her father every name in the book.
Unable to stop him, her mother had gone to the gun rack, took out a rifle, loaded it, and marched back to the bedroom.
“You touch her one more time and I’ll blow your goddamned head off. Leave her alone!” her mother cried out.
She and Selma, surprised by her mother’s actions, begged her to put the gun away as her father stood mute in stunned silence. Her mother ignored them and cocked the trigger and took aim. Her father dared not speak a word, nor did he move. They all watched as her mother stood there with a steady hand and her eye trained on him.
“Selma, take Gabriella’s hand. We’re all getting out of here,” her mother had instructed calmly as they backed away and out of the house.
After that night, she and her mother moved into Mirabella’s house, and although her father begged her mother to return, he never did forgive her nor accept the fact that she was pregnant. His disownment was swift, but his religious vows kept him from abandoning his marriage.
Gabriella gazed into the flames as they cracked and snapped the wood, sending intermittent sparks glowing up through the chimney. She thought of casting a spell on her father. How she could make him pay for his treatment of both her and her mother. She promised her mother that she would not retaliate in such a way, but her mother wasn’t here and she was alone. She had waited as long as she could. It was time.
What would be appropriate, she wondered, as she envisioned a fitting punishment for a man who had coldly disowned her and made her mother miserable. Cold. Ice. Yes. Perhaps his coldness should be met in kind.
She was about to begin when she was interrupted by a presence in the room. He had entered quietly but she was not alarmed. The boy had resumed visiting her from time to time, always silent, always sad, his familiar face staring at her from the front door. She raised her arm toward him in an effort to say hello and perhaps coax him to come to her. Even the comfort of a ghost would do at a time such as this.
“Come here,” Gabriella whispered.
The nameless ghost boy shook his head and continued to stare at her wide-eyed.
“I have some news for you you,” Gabriella teased, hoping that that would interest him. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”
The boy took a step forward, then stopped.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. I’m going to give birth to twins! A boy and a girl. My second sight has told me so. That’s good news, isn’t it?”
The boy stepped back toward the door and took a peak outside, his head vanishing momentarily.
“Why do you look so sad, little boy? Do you miss your friends? Josephina, Jeb and Silas, and the other one . . . I forget her name. Won’t you tell me what has happened to them?” Gabriella asked.
The boy shrugged.
“Well, you don’t have to be lonely or afraid. I’m here and I’m your friend, and friends take care of each other, don’t they? So, after all these years, won’t you tell me who it is you wait for? Perhaps I can help you,” Gabriella whispered.
The boy considered her question, and then with a look of sadness on his face, he pointed at her, gave her a slight wave and vanished.
Gabriella was confused by the boy’s behavior and sat wondering. Soon the fire, along with the comfort of the cozy chair, allowed sleep to set in. Her ephemeral thoughts of retaliation vanished with her consciousness.
Gabriella dreamt she was the moon.
She sat on top of the Sandia Mountains, her mountains, and looked out over her kingdom. She pursed her lips and blew kisses to her beloved earth, sending snow swirling in every direction. She was the mother of snowflakes, each unique and beautiful, each one loved as much as the other.
The earth was blanketed in white and her heart was overcome with love. She cried tears of joy, and her tears were icicles, wet shiny blades that struck the earth like daggers, drawing blood from the cold snow-covered ground. She tried to make it stop but she was powerless to do so, and watched in horror at the destruction brought about by her icy sorrow.
CHAPTER 37
The blustery afternoon was giving way to night when David and Ruth got into the car to make their way back to Arroyo. Snowfall was always heavier in Santa Fe, and the warmer temperature of the day combined with the sudden coldness of the afternoon had left the highway slick and treacherous as they made their way south. The car struggled as it climbed the steep pass—the ice was worse than they had expected and was increasing as darkness closed in.
“So it’s done. Divorced. Are you happy now?” David asked.
“No, of course I’m not happy but you left me no choice
,” Ruth answered as she fished in her purse for a handkerchief.
“I suppose Gabriella is happy,” he muttered.
“She doesn’t know. I haven’t told her.”
“And what am I supposed to tell everyone? My family?” he asked.
“I don’t care what you tell them. If it’s easier, tell them it’s my fault. Tell them I was the one who was unfaithful. People will believe that, given my family. Tell them whatever the hell you want! Forget your affair. Tell everyone that I divorced you because you’ve become a stranger to me. A cruel man who threw his own daughter out of our home and pushed his wife away!”
Ruth’s words struck a nerve but he didn’t argue. “I’ll drop you off at Mirabella’s house and have the rest of your things delivered to you tomorrow. I don’t want you back in my house, understand?”
“Go to hell,” Ruth whispered under her breath as she listened to the sound of the windshield wipers fighting the snow storm.
Ice accumulated on the wiper blades, leaving streaks of wet traces along the windshield, distorting their ability to see clearly. She took her handkerchief and did her best to wipe away the fog that was glazing the interior glass. As she fought with the glare, she saw something that caused her to gasp.
“What is it?” David asked.
“I thought I saw headlights coming toward us but it’s just the moon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a large moon! It looks like it’s resting right on top of the mountain.”
“How the hell can there be a moon out with all this snow and ice?” David swore as he rolled down his window. “Where is all this goddamned snow coming from? The sky is clear!”
“Maybe you should pull over,” Ruth offered, “then we can at least scrape the windshield.”
“I can’t see the shoulder and this hill is too steep to stop. Let’s just keep going,” David said as he stepped on the gas in an effort to conquer the incline.
But there was no traction.
The vehicle started to slide down the hill. David frantically worked the steering wheel and alternately pumped the brake, clutch, and gas pedals hoping to gain control, but his attempts were in vain. The car was spinning out of control—off the highway, down an embankment and crushing its occupants.
It was dark and the night was still. The icy snow twinkled like diamonds in the moonlight. No sounds, no motorists, just snowflakes dancing in the wind. Their bodies would not be discovered until the following day.
Gabriella awoke to a soft low voice, a voice she recognized but had not heard since she was a child. It startled her out of sleep. It whispered sweetly, “Time to wake up, huerfana . . . my orphan girl.”
CHAPTER 38
Gabriella had protested the decision to inter her mother in Santa Fe with the rest of the Mondragon clan. Her arguments fell on deaf ears—Grandfather Mondragon would have none of it. Now Ruth would rest forever far from her kin.
A handful of mourners made the trek from Arroyo to Santa Fe, but they were the ones who mattered most to Gabriella. Selma, Gloria Rios, Sheriff Alary, Sara and Jacob Henderson, and of course, Uncle Joseph and Father Matthew. Gabriel had arrived in time to join them, even though Salome was still too ill to accompany him. And unseen by anyone, Maria and Magdalena followed the sad caravan, flying high above them, keeping Gabriella safe in their sight.
Once back in Arroyo, the house was filled with conversation, and Joseph’s tales of Ruth’s childhood pranks helped to lift spirits. Toasts were made, tears were shed, and fond remembrances were shared as everyone did their best to overcome Ruth’s tragic end. But their words, the stories and anecdotes, did not comfort Gabriella. The painful reality of death, her grandmother the previous summer and now her own mother, caused Gabriella to sink deeper into depression.
Mancha may be dead too, she thought, as she retreated to a quiet bedroom where she sat with her head in her hands and sobbed. But her solitude was interrupted by a light tap on the door.
Gabriel entered and sat next to her on the bed and put his arm around her. “Tell me if you want me to leave you alone.”
Gabriella sniffed and shook her head, and rested her head on his shoulders. “Uncle, would you tell me a story?”
Gabriel kissed her cheek and pulled her close. “Sure. Which one do you want to hear?”
“Tell me about the time you saved my mom from drowning. Tell me what happened,” she asked quietly, her voice a whisper.
“How did you know?” he asked, surprised by her request, then shrugged it off. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s a frightening tale and this may not be the best time. Are you sure you want to hear it now?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we were just kids. Your mom must have been around twelve or thirteen. We were all over at the Henderson’s orchard, helping to pick apples. I was up in a tree, barefoot as usual, picking apples and throwing them down to Grace. Salome was high up in another tree doing the same and Mom was at the house with Sara. I don’t remember where Jake was . . . probably on his tractor somewhere.
“Suddenly I was seized by a vision. It was Ruth. She was in a trance, walking toward the river. In my mind’s eye I saw a light emanating from below the surface of the river—an eerie blue light. There were arms reaching up out of the water, hands clawing at the air and beckoning her. I was terrified as I watched Ruth making her way to them, unafraid. I saw her enter the water. She was immediately caught by the current.
“I climbed down as fast as I could and ran toward the river, screaming and crying out that Ruth was in trouble. I ran faster than I ever had. My feet were cut and bleeding from the rocks and dirt and twigs but I didn’t care. I could still see her in my mind, flailing and drowning, and worse, I could see them waiting for her, their arms outstretched.
“I knew the bosque well and was able to take a shortcut. I was just ahead of her. I saw the river bend and Ruth crying out. I was so young then. I had not yet mastered the ability to levitate or shape-shift. But I was resourceful.
“Near the river was a great old Cottonwood. Not a giant, but it would do. I stopped and concentrated, and with every ounce of power within me, I sent my shade against it. I toppled that tree. It fell on its side. I remember being so scared as I watched its massive roots pulling the ground up with it. I fell to my knees and sent what was left of my power into that tree. My arms were its limbs, stretching out. I grabbed Ruth and pulled her to safety. And then I blacked out.
“I woke up later at home in my own bed. Everyone was standing there by my bedside, including Ruth. My feet were bandaged and I was badly injured. I had saved Ruth but my mother was furious. Not at me, mind you.
“I never knew what happened or why she was so upset. She never told me even though I had asked several times. Of course, I never pressed it . . . you know how my mom could be. And it wasn’t long after that incident that Ruth revoked. Mom performed the ritual. It was heartbreaking. But Ruth’s power was such that it was coveted by beings we couldn’t understand and she was clearly in danger. It was the only way. But you should know that Ruth never objected.”
Gabriel looked down at Gabriella, her cheeks stained by fresh tears. “You didn’t know any of this, did you? She never told you.”
“No,” Gabriella sobbed. “She never shared why she revoked. But I’ve always wondered if she missed it. The magic.”
Gabriel turned his head, hiding his own tears. “I don’t know. She never said.”
“Uncle, I have to confess something,” Gabriella whispered, gathering up her courage.
“What’s that?”
“I think . . . I . . . the night that they died, I had a dream. It was a nightmare. I dreamt about an ice storm. I think I killed them.”
Gabriel hugged her tighter. “Gabi, dreams and nightmares don’t kill people, even a witch’s nightmare. It was just a coincidence. For God’s sake, don’t blame yourself. You’ve had so much happen
this past year. It’s no wonder you have bad dreams.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so. And it’s getting late and you need your rest. How about I get you home and we can talk some more tomorrow.”
Gabriella wiped her face and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Would you stay with me? I don’t know why but I would feel much better knowing you’re in the next room.”
The following morning Gabriel awoke early, and with Gabriella sleeping soundly, he bundled up and walked to Grace’s house. The sun had not risen but a light coming from the kitchen window told him that Grace was already up. He sent his thoughts to her and she responded. Sam was still asleep so they could sit and converse privately. He waited in the cold, his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets and his head buried in his scarf. Moments later, the door opened and Grace motioned for him to come in, a cup of coffee in her hand.
“What’s wrong? What are you doing here so early?” Grace asked in hushed tones.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied, and took a sip of the coffee before he removed his coat.
“You’re worried about her.”
“I’m worried about all of you,” he whispered as he sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m concerned about Salome—she’s still weak but at least she’s on the mend. Gabriella has had far too much to bear for someone so young, and I’m worried that her depression may get the best of her. But you worry me most of all.”
“Me?” Grace asked as she shifted nervously in her chair. “Why me?”
“I was talking to Sam last night. Don’t be upset, but he told me that you’re having a tough time. He said it’s been hard on you, what with Gabriella’s pregnancy and you two unable to have children.”