The First Circle

by Paul Perea

  Matthew considered her words before responding. His typical response would not do this time. This was not simply a matter of a person questioning their faith or wondering why God had allowed something horrible to befall them. The situation was different. Gabriella’s insistence—her words—worried him.

  “Gabriella, the Bible is filled with stories, and those stories contain metaphors and myths that are meant to provide moral lessons. They’re not meant to be taken literally. I don’t believe that God made the world in seven days and created a perfect man and woman. I do believe in evolution, but it was from God that all things sprang forth. As it is said, He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. Who is God and how He came to exist is not a question that can be answered scientifically. It may seem ridiculous to think that there is a single God, a lone supreme being that watches over us, listens to our prayers, and intervenes when we need Him. In the whole wide world, how can this be the belief of all men?

  “But consider this—isn’t it amazing how different cultures from all over the world, people who never had any interaction, came up with similar stories of a God, of a virgin birth, of angelic and demonic entities? There must be something deep within all men, a knowledge buried deep within us of the divine. You see, that divinity resides in all of us so therefore God lives in each of us. The mystery that is God speaks through us in these old stories and myths. Men have forgotten that, for if they remembered, they would recognize the God-force in everyone.

  “It sounds to me that you aren’t so much questioning the faith that you were raised on. I think there is something else going on that has you pondering your mortality. It has been my experience that when people are facing illness, death, or some other traumatic event, they question their religious beliefs. They doubt God, but in their doubt, they seek salvation. It sounds paradoxical, but it’s very real to them. And sometimes they imagine something in order to give their fear a face—a name—power.

  “Look, you’ve been through a lot in the past year, what with losing your grandmother, your parents, and now becoming a mother. You’re responsible for the care and safety of two little human beings. It’s overwhelming and I’m not surprised that you’re upset, but remember, whatever you believe you are, there isn’t some demonic spirit out there trying to kill you. And you certainly don’t have to believe yourself a witch to deal with this.

  “Am I correct in my assumptions, or has something else happened to cause you concern?”

  Gabriella’s eyes were wet with tears, but her voice was clear.

  “Yes, something has happened in my life and I fear that I may not survive it . . . I may not live to take care of my children. Blanca and Martine are everything to me, and if I die I—”

  Matthew interrupted, “Gabriella, you must tell me, why do you think you’re going to die, and how does believing yourself a witch figure into all of this? You spoke of an evil spirit—do you really believe that something or someone is trying to kill you? If so, why you?”

  “No, I don’t think it—I know it! He has been after me for a very long time. If he kills me, if he wins, what will happen to my babies? And as for me, will I burn in hell for being a witch? If there is a God, will He cast me down to hell? If I’m made in His image, then isn’t God himself responsible for what I am? And if so, shouldn’t I be accepted? Shouldn’t I be allowed into the kingdom of heaven?”

  Matthew was alarmed but did his best to remain calm. “Gabriella, listen to me. There isn’t a devil out to get you. You are safe and sound and blessed with two beautiful little children. Now, I’m not sure why you believe the things you do—perhaps you’re just tired. Do you need help?”

  Gabriella shook her head. “I know this all sounds absurd and hard to believe, really I do, but please answer my question. If I die performing a righteous act, will I go to heaven even though I’m a witch?”

  “If you have made a choice to turn your back on God and practice witchcraft, then yes, your soul may be damned. I can’t say for sure. Only God can decide your fate when you meet him in the afterlife. All I can do is counsel you and ask that you forget about these foolish ideas and return to the church. Ask God for forgiveness. Confess your sins. You will find peace and redemption in the church, not in crude ideas of spell casting and other rubbish.

  “Look, you’re a good girl and you’re going to be a good mother. You’re healthy and strong, and you can survive anything to take care of your babies. Don’t worry. If anything did ever happen to you, I’m sure that heaven awaits you. We do have souls, my dear, and yours is one of the nicest I have ever known.”

  Gabriella leaned into him, and for a moment was comforted. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be held, to hear another’s heart beating, to feel the warmth of affection and the protection of someone’s arms.

  “I know what I’m saying sounds ridiculous to you . . . it sounds crazy to me when I say these things out loud. Please don’t think I’m going insane. I know I’m not as religious as my grandmother was and I don’t attend church as often as I should, but I do pray. I pray very hard, and I ask for help and for guidance, but nothing ever happens. Nothing. Either He doesn’t hear me or He simply doesn’t exist. Either He has turned a deaf ear because I am what I am, or the fact of the matter is I’m alone, we are all alone on this earth, and we each have to make our own way the best way we know.”

  Matthew’s worry was intensifying by the minute. He squeezed her a bit tighter and kissed her cheek. “You may think that nothing is happening when you pray to God. You may think that your suffering is going unnoticed, but it is not. God sees and God will help you. Remember the saying, ‘God works in mysterious ways.’ It may not be obvious to you, but sometimes we cannot see the progression of His intervention and grace. Sometimes things are happening—how should I say—behind the scenes. His power may be at work but the results are not yet apparent. Keep up your prayers, my dear girl . . . He will hear them and He will answer them.”

  Gabriella managed a weak smile.

  “I promise to keep saying my prayers, and I will try to be better at attending mass. Should I say some Hail Mary’s or Our Fathers as penance?”

  Matthew knew she was joking and hoped that his words had made a difference.

  “No, I think you should go home and get some rest. Spend some time with your children, and I will come visit you tomorrow. But if you feel afraid or need someone to talk to, call me and I will come right away. Gabriella, you’re not alone in this world. Remember that, and remember that there are people who love you. Don’t be afraid, child.”

  He watched as she got up and walked slowly down the aisle until she opened the heavy wooden doors and was enveloped by the bright light of day.

  Matthew sat for some time, pondering what to do about Gabriella. She was clearly becoming unstable and actually seemed to believe the nonsense—witches, ghosts, evil spirits. He knelt and prayed for guidance, but as he did, he thought of Mirabella, and wondered if she would approve of what he had in mind. Would she see the wisdom in what he would recommend, and that what he intended to do would be with the best of intentions? The safety and well-being of the children was of the utmost importance. They must be removed from their home—separated from their mother. As for Gabriella, he would talk to the family and suggest she be placed in the care of doctors who could help cure her of her delusions.

  The creak of the heavy wooden door and the sound of footsteps interrupted his meditation. He finished his prayer, made the sign of the cross, and stood up. He turned to find Helena Rios looking at him with narrowed eyes.

  “Señora Rios. I must say, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

  “My husband and I are ridding ourselves of our property here. I arrived yesterday, and since I happened to be back in Arroyo, and found you were as well, I thought I would take this opportunity to talk with you. How are things? Have you found your new parish to be to your lik
ing?”

  The tone of her voice made it evident that Helena neither cared how “things” were for him nor did she care whether or not he liked his new church. She clearly had a hidden agenda.

  “Yes, I am very happy.”

  Helena was disappointed with his short answer and pressed him further.

  “And what brings you back to Arroyo?”

  “Actually, I’m here for a conference of Catholic Bishops and Priests, and since I was going to be in Santa Fe, I thought I would pay my former parish a visit.”

  “Oh? I thought that you were here to visit your old friends, the Cortez family. I know how close you were to them, or probably still are. I hear Joseph spends a lot of time visiting you.” Her voice trailed off and a slight smile came over her.

  Matthew felt as if he were playing a game of chess and was not in the mood for her game, but he had to be respectful. He also understood that she held an ace in her hand. If she accused him of being a homosexual, he could be excommunicated, imprisoned or both. He was not prepared to test her.

  “Why yes, I am close to the Cortez family, as I am with many other families in Arroyo. It’s wonderful to see everyone again.”

  “And Gabriella Mondragon? No doubt you have seen the girl?”

  At the mention of her name, Matthew shifted uncomfortably. He looked away in an attempt to hide his concern but it was too late. His face betrayed him and Helena took immediate advantage.

  “Ah, you have seen her. Such a disappointment, but what can you expect, coming from that family. She brought even more shame on them, having children out of wedlock. Her own father disowned her before he died and now she is doing heaven-knows-what to make money to put food on the table. I hear she is even pretending to be a fortune-teller and brewing home remedies. My goodness . . . such behavior . . . but when her own grandmother . . .” Helena paused for a moment, then continued, “well, I don’t have to tell you.”

  Matthew could feel his face grow hot with anger but he kept his composure.

  “Yes, I have seen Gabriella. In fact, she was just here. I’m afraid being an unwed mother and being so young is starting to take its toll. Poor girl. She lost her grandmother and then lost her parents . . . so much to take for such a young person. It’s too bad that the father of her children couldn’t have been man enough to come forward and help. I pray for her but I have to say that it takes two to tango, and unfortunately for Gabriella, she’s had to bear the brunt of the situation. As for her father, his behavior toward her was atrocious and not in keeping with the teachings of Jesus Christ. May God have mercy on his soul.”

  Matthew saw the hatred in Helena’s eyes. He had hit a nerve with the force of a sledgehammer.

  “That little tramp should have learned to keep her legs closed! She got what she deserved!”

  “And your son? Did Daniel get what he deserved?” Matthew asked calmly.

  “Yes, Daniel got what he deserves—what he has worked so hard for! He has a college education, a good job, and a marriage to a respectable girl from a good family. He escaped the clutches of that fool girl, that . . . that scheming whore. Gabriella tried to trap him. She spent a whole summer working at it but in the end she showed her true colors. All she wanted of Daniel was a ticket out of here and when her charms couldn’t do the trick, she got herself pregnant. It’s her fault, not Daniel’s!”

  Matthew rose to Gabriella’s defense. “Helena, if Gabriella wanted to leave Arroyo she could have done that. Her family has the means, so you’re fooling yourself by thinking that she was trying to use Daniel. Gabriella is a good girl and she fell in love. They’re both children and they made a mistake. But I think in the end it was someone else who got to Daniel—someone convinced him to do the wrong thing.”

  “And you think that ‘someone’ is me,” she seethed.

  “Yes. Who else but you?” Matthew answered calmly and matter-of-factly.

  Helena moved closer to him and looked into his eyes. “I’m not surprised that someone like you would find that family’s behavior acceptable and accuse someone like me, a God-fearing woman, of being at fault. Is it a sin to want the best for my son—to protect him from the likes of that little slut?

  “I may not be in Arroyo as often as I used to be but I’ll tell you this. That girl is no good. She doesn’t attend church. I doubt she plans to baptize her children. I don’t trust her and I know that eventually she’ll try to ruin my son’s life. So I keep an eye on her. I won’t let that happen.

  “Let me give you a word of advice, Father. You would do well to counsel that girl to keep away from Daniel. You would also do well to watch your tongue. I know of the perverted relationship that you carry on with Joseph and I’m sure that the archbishop would not find your behavior suitable for a man of God. Before you leave Arroyo, keep this in mind—one word from me, and you’re through. Again, if you are providing advice to that girl, make sure she keeps away from Daniel.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Gabriella sat at the kitchen table in stunned silence. She couldn’t believe the news. Roberto Sanchez was killed today. He was murdered in a hideous manner. A cassava root had been shoved down his throat, causing him to suffocate. His body had been found near the river and the police had mounted a manhunt to apprehend the killer. Gabriella knew the person responsible would not be found, at least not by the police.

  She also knew that it was her fault. He had come to her for help, just as he used to visit her grandmother when he was ill. He hated doctors but needed medicine. She had sent Roberto to the river to obtain what she needed and Salazar used him to send a message back to her—he was ready and was not going to wait any longer.

  Against her better judgment, she felt compelled to write to Daniel. If anything, for the sake of the children. Gabriella picked up the pencil but the words would not come. She sat for some time, gathering her thoughts and struggling to find a way to state what was necessary without sounding like a lunatic. As she started to put her thoughts into words, a loud knock on the door startled her.

  “Uncle Joe! What are you doing here?” Gabriella asked as Joseph stormed into the house.

  “I’m upset, Gabriella . . . I’m upset with you,” he said. “Would you please explain why you decided to tell Matthew that you’re a witch?”

  “I . . . I, uh, needed to talk to him. I needed his help,” Gabriella stammered.

  “His help? He told me what you said and now he’s convinced that you’re going crazy. He’s afraid for the safety of your children and your sanity. My God, Gabriella, what in the world possessed you to say these things to him? Why didn’t you talk to me or Grace?”

  Gabriella wrapped her arms around her uncle, pressed her head into his chest and started to cry. She was tired and wanted someone to take care of her—to make it all go away.

  “Mija, I’m not mad at you,” Joseph explained. “I’m just trying to understand why you would risk telling an outsider about yourself. Matthew was so distraught by what you said that he’s ready to have you committed and have the children taken away from you! Now tell me, what’s all this talk about God and hell and evil spirits? What’s going on?”

  “I’m afraid. I’m afraid that I’m going to go to hell if I die. I needed to ask Matthew. Only he could answer my questions, not you, not Auntie Grace,” Gabriella answered, her voice muffled against his chest.

  “Why the questions and why do you think you’re going to die? Is something going on, Gabriella? Has someone threatened you? Matthew thinks that you may be sick. He said you are under some kind of delusion that you’re in danger from an evil spirit. And to make matters worse, he was paid a visit by Helena Rios.”

  “Helena? What’s she doing here?” Gabriella asked, sniffling as Joseph led her toward the couch.

  “Never mind about Helena. Sweetheart, I’m worried about you. Unless you can give me some kind of explanation for your behavior, I think Matthe
w may have a point. I think we may need to look at having Grace and Sam look after the babies, at least for a while . . . until you’re feeling better.”

  Tired of the evasions, Gabriella decided that now was the time for truth. Her words were rushed as she tried her best to summarize the events leading up to this point. She told Joseph about Mancha, Magdalena and Maria. She told him about Salazar. She tried to explain the dangerous task that had been placed on her shoulders. Gabriella was sure that if her uncle heard the story, he would understand.

  Joseph listened intently, shocked by what he was hearing. As Gabriella recounted everything, he stood up and paced as fear clouded his mind. A plan was needed, but what exactly escaped his reasoning. He could take Gabriella far away. He could go to the bosque himself and deal with this Salazar. He could reach out to Gabriel, Salome and Grace. Together they would find a way!

  Joseph was about to speak when the front door flew open and slammed against the wall. Sand punished his eyes as he made for the door but when he looked outside he was met with an ominous sight.

  “My God!” Joseph shouted. “It’s a tornado!”

  Before he could stop her, Gabriella ran across the courtyard and onto the road. She could see that this was no ordinary dust devil coming toward them. Sure it was Salazar, Gabriella raised her arms to the sky and dark clouds instantly formed overhead. As she readied herself for a fight, the dust devil split into three separate funnels and began to dissipate. From them emerged Mancha, Maria and Magdalena, magnificent in their appearance as they strode toward Gabriella and Joseph.

  “Mancha!” Gabriella cried as she ran into the open arms of her beloved friend.

  Mancha hugged Gabriella and covered her head with kisses, and soon Maria and Magdalena joined in on the reunion.

  “Look who turned up!” Maria exclaimed. “Alive and well, thanks be to the gods!”