“Papi!” Mikey called out as he ran across the church, his two-year-old feet barely able to keep up with his excitement.
“Hey, buddy. Donde esta tu mamá?” I heard John say before I turned the corner. When I did, I saw Mikey point toward me and then John came into view. I smiled at my soon-to-be husband, who would be assisting Father Francis in today’s mass. I walked up to him, and he kissed me on my cheek before pulling me in for an embrace.
“Hey, gorgeous. How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Anna…”
“It’s okay, John. Today is a good day.”
Over the past three years, the good days had been rare, and I took any good day that came my way in stride. But I knew that today would be tough the moment I woke up. It marked the three-year anniversary since Ben had broken into my house.
“Good. Are you going to the fiesta after mass?”
“I’m not sure.” I shook my head. I hadn’t gone to the fiesta last year or the year before that, but this time I wanted to. I didn’t want Ben’s sins to define me, but it wasn’t easy. Unfortunately, the only memories I had from the celebration three years ago were the ones I wished I could forget. The only good thing that came out of that night was my son. Or our son, I should say. John had accepted Mikey as his own the moment the secret I’d kept from him began swelling in my tummy and I was forced to tell him the truth about the evening.
That night, he removed his father’s gun from an old chest and stormed out of the house. It took three strong men – his father, brother, and uncle – to stop him, but they had. John sobbed that night. He sobbed like I’d never seen a grown man sob, tears of sorrow and pain, flowing like rivers of sadness. They drained him. They made him question the good in this world, faith, and hope. It hurt seeing him that way, especially since he sobbed not only for me, but also for the baby that was growing in my womb. It didn’t deserve a mobster for a father.
I had moved out of the parish and in with John and his parents as soon as they found out that I was pregnant. While I was pretty sure they were aware whose child I’d carried and gave birth to, they accepted Mikey as their grandson in the same way that John had accepted him as his own.
“I’ll be the father,” he said, the night I told him the truth.
“What?”
“Don’t tell Ben. Don’t let that child anywhere near him.”
“John, I can’t ask that of you.”
“You don’t have to ask me. It’s done.”
“Ben will suspect. He’ll know. He’ll… he’ll want my baby.”
“Then let’s beat him to the punch. Let’s announce the pregnancy now. We’re engaged. It’s only expected that children would be next.”
“But we’re not married. What will everyone think? Their deacon has a child born out of wedlock?”
“Half this town was born out of wedlock, but if you want to get married, then we’ll do it tomorrow.”
“You’d do that for me? You would really raise him as your own?”
He gently touched his hand to the slightly rounded bump over my belly. “Yes. I’d do anything for you and this innocent life, Anna. You know that.”
I did know that. My heart squeezed so hard afterward, that by the end of the night, those rivers he’d cried earlier were filled with my tears instead of his.
“Thank you.”
“Hey, what’s the matter?” He lifted my chin with his finger.
“I… I wanted you to be my first.”
“I still will be, baby.”
“But… what Ben did...”
“What he did… that’s not your first. It never will be, okay? What he did was brutal, and I promise you that one day he will pay for it. He” – John pointed up to the sky – “will be our judge. And remember that what Ben did doesn’t change the fact that you’re the most beautiful, purest, and bravest woman I have ever known.”
That night, for the first time, John showered me with kisses and showed me how much he loved me. I hadn’t thought much of what Ben had done to me since then and did my best to concentrate on my new family. We decided to wait with our vows and promised we’d get married as soon as the Cortez family left town. We made it our mission to bring safety back to Pace. I volunteered for the youth group, turned to prayer, and so did John. We prayed for strength and patience, but most of all, we prayed for peace.
Today, on the third year since that awful night Ben broke into my house, I’d need to be stronger, but I knew that with John’s help, I’d be all right.
“I love you, John.” I looked up, feeling a little nervous. “There’s something else that I need to talk to you about,” I said.
My period was late. It had only happened to me once in my life, just before I found out that I was pregnant with Mikey. I wasn’t sure just yet, but I had a feeling that I was carrying John’s child. This time, though, expecting a child with the man I loved would be different. Our baby would complete our family.
Today will be a happy day, I decided.
“And I love you. We’ll chat after mass, okay?” John kissed Mikey on his cheek and then me. He still had to change into his cloak.
“Sure,” I smiled, kneeling in the pew. The church was beginning to fill.
“Mamá?”
“Yes, darling?” I straightened his favorite red shirt, which had crumpled up over his belly.
“Mr. Monkey.” He pointed to where John was waiting by the door to the rectory. He’d forgotten to leave Mikey’s favorite plush toy.
“We’ll get Mr. Monkey after mass.” Last week, Mikey had lost it at Mr. Garcia’s house where we deposited our scrap metal from the church. We ended up walking for hours between the aisles of aluminum and steel, a combination of anything from candle holders to broken laundry scrubbers, and finally found Mr. Monkey sitting in a bucket near the house.
Mr. Garcia had a lot of junk this year. Most of it came from the cars, old appliances, and broken guns imported by the Cortez family. Each time they left for Mexico, it seemed that more junk came into the yard. Once every six months, Mr. Garcia packed up his truck with the metal and drove to Tucson, three hours away, where he sold it. He was making another trip tomorrow morning. The way his small junkyard business had grown over the past two years, Mr. Garcia had managed to upgrade his straw roof house to a larger, all brick one. It had its own wine cellar and a double car garage. For a while there, it was the only subject talked about by everyone in town. Now all that Mr. Garcia needed was a car.
“I promise, Mikey. It’s time to pray.”
“Okay, Mamá.” Mikey smiled, his two front teeth showing from underneath his lip like a wild rabbit’s.
The church door opened, and shivers prickled over my arms. I immediately recognized the sound of those steps and I stilled, shutting my eyes. The feeling didn’t pass. It didn’t get any better. That haunting walk visited me in my dreams. The echo of dragged heels forced goosebumps to my arms and the contents of my stomach way up, close to that line of no return. If it came up another millimeter, I wouldn’t be able to hold it in. It was worse than when Mr. Garcia accidentally scraped his nail over a rusted car hood.
The sound of his approach finally stopped, but that was only because I knew Ben had entered one of the pews behind me, the same way he’d done every Sunday morning for the past three years. When he found out that I was pregnant, he’d insisted that I was carrying his child, and followed me like a predator. I of course denied his claims.
I’d told Ben that Mikey was planned, but I didn’t think that he believed me. Actually, I was pretty sure he didn’t. Still, I wouldn’t let Ben lay a hand on our son or come near him. John and I had finally set a wedding date, and once we said our vows, our family would be official.
“Come on, baby. Down on your knees, please,” I said to Mikey, as we knelt in the front row, bowed our heads, and made the sign of the cross. Pride filled me as I watched my son follow my lead. I wasn’t sure what went on in that little head of his, when he bowed it so nicely, but it must have been special. I’d never seen another two-year-old kneel down in a pew and keep his eyes closed in concentration. Mikey repeated my whispered words, the way he did each Sunday. He probably didn’t know what they meant, but that was okay. They were good words, and my hope was that one day he’d understand them and would grow up with faith in his heart.
He wasn’t anything like Ben. He was like John.
We finished and sat down just as the beginning bell rang, and once again, we stood up. I saw Mikey remove a small toy car from his pocket and set it on the seat beside him. He grinned from ear to ear.
“Where did you get that, honey?” I asked.
“Ben,” Mikey replied.
I gasped, my heart jumping in my throat as Mikey set the toy down on the seat and, carefully watching my face, turned around in his pew and pointed to one of the back rows.
“Face forward, honey. God’s up there.” I gently touched at his shoulder, pulling his attention away from Ben. I immediately focused on the cross, reminding myself that my suffering was nothing compared to His. I’d carry His cross for the rest of my life if I had to, so long as He’d protect my child.
After the mass, we joined John back at the rectory, where he removed his gown and changed back into his Sunday clothes.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, he left.”
John knew exactly whom I meant and whispered, “I’m sorry.” He smoothed his hands over my cold arms, scrunching up my thick sweater in the process. Over the past couple of years, I found myself feeling cold more often.
“Do you mind staying with Mikey while I drop off the last load to Mr. Garcia?” I lifted the burlap bag. “I saw him heading out of the church just now.”
“Sure, we’ll see you outside.”
“Stay with papá, Mikey.” Our son nodded, and I couldn’t help but feel my throat tighten as he removed the gifted toy from his pocket again and began driving the car along the pattern of a crack in the wall, making engine noises.
I hurried to the front where Mr. Garcia was folding the support leg of his bicycle, getting ready to leave. “Mr. Garcia! I have one more bag for you.”
“Thank you, Anna.”
I placed the bag in one of his side baskets and secured it with the rubber band that wrapped around the metal frame. “You have yourself a safe trip tomorrow morning,” I said.
Last time Mr. Garcia returned home, he’d had two broken ribs; he’d been ambushed on his way back. Most of his money had been stolen, and if it weren’t for the secret compartment in the soles of his shoes, he wouldn’t have a penny left to live on.
Mr. Garcia leaned in toward me and, as if remembering the fact, he whispered, “You don’t tell a soul about that night, Anna. You hear me?”
“Your secret is safe with me. But I still do want you to be careful. I’ll pray for your swift return.”
Mr. Garcia didn’t seem concerned. I saw him grin with pride as he announced, “I got myself a shotgun this time. No one’s going to surprise this old beast again. You and John look out for each other and have yourselves a grand wedding. I’ll see if I can find something special for the two of you while I’m away.”
“Thank you, but you don’t need to get us anything. You stop by for tea when you return, though.” I waved as he headed past the yard, then turned around and went back toward the church. As I took my third step, I saw Ben leaning back against the wall by the Bistro.
“Come inside, Anna. We have a matter to discuss.”
“There’s no matter to discuss.” I lowered my head, doing my best to ignore him, but with that smirk on his face, Ben had a way of beckoning me without even trying. He was up to something, and I was afraid that I’d find out when it was too late.
“Ah, too bad. I’m sure Mikey’s going to miss his Mamá.”
What?
I rushed across the street toward the bar. I felt like Ben was holding a fishing rod, watching me follow his hook, reeling me in with each of my steps, that sly grin stretching on his mouth the closer I came to him. Little did he know, I felt like a great white shark on the end of that line, and though Ben was nothing but another piece of junk in the ocean, I’d still take a bite at him – or a swing of an ax.
“Where’s my son?” I shouted, as he blocked my way to the Bistro.
“I think he’s at church, no?” he said.
“Why would you say he’ll miss me?”
“I never said anything, chiquita.”
I turned around just as John stepped out of the church. He was holding Mikey’s hand, and I felt relief wash over me. If anything ever happened to my son, I would have killed Ben myself.
“Stay away from me, Ben, and stay away from my son. Stop with the toys. You do not come near him, you hear me?”
“He’s my son.”
“He’s John’s and mine,” I spat back, the same way I did each time he made the accusation.
“That’s interesting, Anna, because tomorrow, he’ll officially be mine.” I gasped and my hand flew to my heart. Ben stepped to the side and gestured with his arm for me to come inside the Bistro. I looked back to John, who was helping Mikey look for something in the grass. They couldn’t see me from this angle.
“Come in if you want to hear how,” Ben lured me in. I would have preferred it if John knew where I was, but I could handle this, and I didn’t want to make a scene larger than necessary in front of Mikey. I wanted to keep my son’s innocence intact. I wanted him to be as oblivious of Ben as he could be.
I stepped into the Bistro. The smell of booze and smoke hit me first. I crossed my arms over my chest and whipped my body around. “What are you up to, Ben?” I asked.
“Just wanted to give you a fair warning, Anna. I don’t want any trouble around here, but I can see his eyes and his nose. He’s mine. One way or another, Mikey will know who his real father is. You know, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, Anna. But I will have my son back. There’s this new DNA test a doctor can do. All I need is a piece of Mikey’s hair. I wonder where I could get one?”
I locked my knees in place as they attempted to take me down. I lifted my head higher and added with as much conviction as my voice would allow. “Mikey doesn’t have your ugly potato nose. He has John’s. He is John’s.”
Ben’s eyes shaded with evil. Pure evil.
“You don’t even know what an unfit mother you are. The child needs a strong father who spits and knows how to use a gun. Not someone who will dress him in red for the Assumption Fiesta. You of all people should know the color attracts bulls.”
Unfit mother? How dare he! I would never place Mikey in harm’s way. “First of all, I would never put my child within a bull’s reach. Mikey’s none of your concern, and neither am I. Stop following me, Ben, and stop terrorizing my family.”
“What if the bull puts itself within his reach?”
I held in the gasp that almost escaped my mouth, took in a deep breath, and squared my shoulders. “Your threats are not going to work. I know who you are. You’re… you’re a nobody.”
His jaw tensed. I might have pushed him too far, but it was about time that somebody did. Ben stepped closer, but I held my ground. He leaned in to my ear and whispered, “If I’m a nobody, then nobody committed a crime when they fucked you three years ago. You miss me, Anna, don’t you, chiquita?”
His hand snaked down my waist and over my hip, and my whole body froze.