CHAPTER 3: "A Visit with the Priest"
"Felipe!"
The little boy didn't open his eyes. He didn't respond. He was too busy taking deep breaths and biting his lips in an effort not to cry.
"Felipe!"
Arms clasped him to a bosom. "Are you all right?"
Felipe opened his eyes. Consuela gazed at him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. Tears trickled down his cheeks. Alicia and Rafael stood behind her, a little to the side. Anxiety etched their faces.
"I was scared!" He snuffled. "That horse almost killed me."
Consuela checked him for injuries as he stood still. Satisfied that he was all right, she hugged him gently. "You're safe, hijo mio. It's all over."
Felipe nodded, wiping his eyes. At that moment, a familiar harsh voice jolted him. "Santa Maria, what is this?!"
Felipe whirled around. To his dismay, his father stood behind him, hands clenched, a scowl marring his leathery, tanned face. Felipe's stomach churned. He didn't want to make his father mad again. He wanted to show Juan that he could be brave.
"A soldier on a horse almost ran Felipe down," Consuela explained. "Slammed him right against the wall; I thought he was hurt. It scared him."
Juan shook his head. "Si, I bet it scared him! Biggest baby I ever saw, this muchacho!" His voice rose in anger as he glared at the cowering boy. "Gets scared over a little nightmare every night, so that I can't sleep! Gets scared over a little accident and cries like a baby!"
Felipe was crying, now. His father's harsh words tore at his gut. Suddenly, a hand tore across his face, causing excruciating pain. Crying out, Felipe threw his arms protectively over his face.
Juan grabbed the little boy's arms, digging his nails in till it hurt, and forced them down to Felipe's sides. He shook Felipe till his teeth rattled. "You little coward! You stupid baby!" Felipe snuffled. His father struck him again, and he wailed.
"Stop it, now! Or I'll give you a whippin' you'll never forget!" Juan shouted. Felipe raised his arms to cover his face again. With a snort of disgust, his father stormed off.
Felipe fell into his mother's arms and wept agonized sobs. "There, there." Deep pain filled his mother's quavering voice.
Felipe knew she was distressed that his father had hurt him. "Your papá was just scared, that's all. He's upset. He didn't mean that stuff he said."
She knelt before him and wiped the tears off his face with her fingertips. "Felipe—" She paused to glance at Alicia and Rafael, who stood nearby. "Felipe, why don't you and Rafael run off and play? If you want to visit with the padre, do so. Godmother Lopez and I have to get back to work."
Felipe nodded, still snuffling. Consuela rose to her feet, kissed him on the forehead, then left with Alicia. Felipe's face smarted from the vicious slaps he had received. Tears streaked his cheeks, and his nose felt stuffy.
"You stay with Felipe," Godmother Lopez ordered Rafael. "And no teasin' him!"
"Si, Tia Alicia."
"And no foolin' around and gettin' in no more trouble." The little boy's aunt wagged her finger for emphasis. "Or you'll be the one gettin' the whippin'!"
Rafael sighed. "Si, Aunt Alicia." He turned to Felipe. "Vamonos. Let's see Padre Pablo."
Felipe nodded. He had always loved the kind, godly priest, who was good to children and who helped peons in every way he could. Weeks before, while Felipe's father had been in jail for disturbing the peace, the padre had brought some food to Felipe and his mother. He had made Felipe learn the meaning of sacrifice before he had allowed the boy to have his first communion. He had helped Felipe nurse his mother while Consuela was deathly ill.
When the two boys neared the porch steps, they stopped for a moment. "Hey, look." Felipe pointed at the alcalde's office. The same horse that had almost run him down had since been tethered in front of the office. The soldier was nowhere to be seen.
"I bet the soldier's inside," Rafael said, wriggling. Felipe nodded agreement.
"What's goin' on?" Felipe wondered out loud, as the boys trotted up the steps. "Wish we could listen."
"Me, too."
Once the two boys entered the sanctuary, the silence and calm pervading the room soothed Felipe. He hoped the priest was in the building and not out on his rounds.
As the boys approached the altar, they found Padre Pablo kneeling in front of it. The golden statue of the Virgin Mary hung on a red silk tapestry above the padre's head.
The priest made the sign of the cross and rose to his feet. "Hola, Felipe. Rafael." With a chuckle, he approached them.
The sight of Padre Pablo's kind face calmed Felipe down. Whenever he was with the priest, he felt that everything would be all right. It had to be; Padre Pablo was a man of God!
As Felipe smiled wanly up at the man, Padre Pablo's face furrowed in concern. "Are you all right, my son?" He knelt in front of the little boy. "You've been crying."
Felipe nodded. "Papá yelled at me. He hit me. Twice."
"Oh?" Padre Pablo glanced at Rafael, who nodded. "And what for?"
"Because I almost got run over. By a horse. I got real, real scared." Felipe hung his head. "I been havin' bad dreams, too, for days, now. I dream my mommy and papá are gettin' killed."
The priest stood up. "Let's sit down, shall we?" He gestured toward the rows of wooden benches. He sat down on one of the front benches and drew Felipe into his lap.
Nestling against Padre Pablo's chest, Felipe told the priest about his narrow escape, about the nightmares he'd been having, and about his father's reaction to Felipe's terror whenever he had one. Rafael leaned against the priest's side and curled his legs underneath him. Unable to sit still, as always, he fidgeted.
"Papá gets so mad when I have a bad dream," Felipe said. "He says I'm a baby."
Padre Pablo smiled and shook his head. Sadness creased his face. "No offense or disrespect to your father, Felipe, but he's mistaken." He rubbed the side of Felipe's head. "I've known you for seven years, ever since I christened you after your birth. I talk with your mother about you all the time, and she seeks my advice on how to raise you. You're a good boy, Felipe, a fine boy. And I suspect you're a lot braver than your papá thinks. If your mother's life were to be in danger, you'd do whatever you had to, to save her. I know, because I saw the lengths you went to, to keep her alive when she was so sick."
Felipe nodded, remembering. His mother had become deathly ill in early June, while his father was in jail. Because his godparents had been working at a fiesta at the time, Felipe had been forced to care for his sick mother all by himself. When she was delirious with fever and Felipe's strength had nearly run out, he had made a signal fire to attract someone's attention. Padre Pablo had responded.
"You can be very brave when the situation calls for it. I've seen that, myself." Padre Pablo wrapped his arms around the boy and hugged him gently. "Being frightened when you have a nightmare or nearly get run over by a horse does not mean you're a baby or a coward. Your mother's right when she says your father says those things because he's upset." He brushed Felipe's hair out of his brown eyes.
Felipe smiled again. As always, the priest had made him feel better. And the padre was right; Felipe would do whatever he had to, to help his mother, just as he had done when she had been sick.
"My mamá's the best in the whole world." He grinned at Rafael, who unfolded his legs and fidgeted. "No one's better than her!"
Padre Pablo chuckled. "Your mother's a good woman, Felipe. A true saint. I'm proud to be her priest. And yours." He kissed Felipe's forehead and put an arm around Rafael's shoulder.
"I have a suggestion, Felipe. Next time you have a dream like that, pray that God will help you to not be afraid."
"Si, Padre." Felipe scratched the side of his nose.
"Well, boys, would you like to hear a story?"
Felipe and Rafael grinned at each other. "Si, si! Por favor, Padre!" Rafael shouted.
As the three of them sat on the hard wooden high-backed bench, Padre Pablo told them a story about Fray Junipero Serra, the Franciscan friar who had traveled to a province up north—now known as California—to found the first of a string of missions. Like Godfather Lopez, the padre was a talented storyteller. He had often told the two boys Bible stories and stories about saints. As always, the boys listened, mesmerized, while the priest described the saint's adventures. Felipe sat still as he listened, but Rafael wiggled nonstop.
When he had finished the story, Padre Pablo sighed. "Well, muchachos, I've got some work to do, so I've got to go."
"Adios, Padre." Felipe slid off his lap.
"Hasta luego, son." Padre Pablo hugged Felipe. He ruffled the boy's hair and patted Rafael's shoulder.
The little boys trotted toward the entrance door. "Padre Pablo's so nice," Rafael remarked. "I love him."
"Me, too." Felipe nodded emphatically.
On the porch steps, the two boys glanced again at the alcalde's office. The horse was gone. The soldier had left.
"Come on, let's see what my mamá and your aunt are doin'." Felipe glanced at the two women, kneeling on their blankets and chatting with a couple of other peasant women.
Rafael grinned mischievously. "I got an idea! Let's sneak up behind 'em, all right? We'll go around that little street over there, and then when we get up there, we can scare them."
As he bent over to pick up a rock, Felipe grabbed his arm. "No!" he scolded. "You can't throw no rock at 'em! I won't let you!"
"Aw, Felipe, you're no fun." Rafael glared at him.
"You gotta stop throwin' stuff." Felipe crossed his arms and glared back. "You're always gettin' in trouble."
Rafael shook his head, and let the rock fall from his hand. "Santa Maria, I wasn't gonna hit 'em with it! Just scare them, is all." He sighed. "I still say, let's sneak up behind."
Felipe shrugged. The two boys trotted down a narrow side street that circled around the row of buildings that comprised the left side of the plaza. They turned onto another street that took them back to the plaza.
As the boys re-entered the plaza, they saw Consuela and Alicia's shawl-covered backs toward them, several feet up the row of buildings. Slowly, the boys tiptoed toward them. When the boys came close, they could hear the two women talking in low tones.
Felipe and Rafael stopped to listen. Rafael started to speak, but Felipe raised a finger to his lips and shook his head. Rafael remained silent.
Suddenly, Consuela froze. Catching her breath, she stopped talking. She just sat stock-still, kneeling on the woolen blanket, not moving, head bent downward. Felipe became uneasy. Was his mother sick?
"Consuela? You all right?" Alicia laid a hand on Consuela's shoulder.
Consuela raised her head and raised a shaking hand to pat her long brown hair. "No. Not really. It happened again." She took a deep breath.
"What happened again?"
Consuela paused. When she spoke again, her voice was so low, Felipe had to strain his ears to listen. "The vision. Sometimes, I get a picture in my head that's so strong I don't see nothin' around me."
"What was it?" Alicia sounded worried.
Consuela paused again. "It's the same thing, over and over. Rather like Felipe's nightmares, only I get this picture in the daytime. In it, it's market day, just like today. Everyone's in the plaza, sellin' their wares. I see it like I was watchin' from far away."
She paused a third time. "I look at everyone there. People are buyin', sellin', barterin', talkin', you name it. Sometimes I see you, Rafael, and Paco. Then I look for Juan, Felipe, and me, and none of us is here."
She took a deep breath. "I get so frightened when I get this--this picture! I know I feel much the way Felipe must feel when he dreams Juan and I are bein' killed. Oh, Alicia, do you—do you think I'm havin' a vision?"
"From God?"
Consuela nodded. Panic rose in Felipe's throat. To hear his mother talking like that really upset him.
"I'm sure it's just nerves," Alicia said. But she gazed down at the ground as she spoke; she wouldn't look at Consuela. "Have you seen the padre about it?"
"No." Consuela sighed. "But perhaps I should. Maybe he can help me."
Felipe and Rafael tiptoed away. Neither boy had the heart to spook Consuela and Alicia now.
No! Felipe thought. It can't happen! It just can't! I won't let it! I won't!
"Hey, muchachos! What's wrong?"
The boys whirled around. To their relief, Godfather Lopez stood looking down at them, his kind eyes twinkling as always. His straw sombrero lay titled on the back of his head. He wiped his sweaty forehead.
"Will you stay with us?" Rafael begged. "Scary things are happenin'."
"Well, boys, it's soon goin' to be time to go home." Paco patted his nephew's shoulder. "The Angelus is gonna ring, soon. We been here all afternoon."
"Si, Godfather Lopez." Felipe sighed.
Minutes later, while Paco sat on a porch step and told the boys a story, the church bell rang. Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!
Paco rose to his feet. "Come on, boys. Let's find your mamá, Felipe, and your aunt, Rafael."
The two families met. The men and boys helped the women collect their things and load them onto the burros. Slowly, the two families walked home.
That night, as always, Felipe and his mother knelt by the altar and prayed with her rosary. As his mother had taught him, Felipe examined his conscience while they prayed, trying to remember if he'd committed any sins that day for which he needed to be forgiven. Finding none, the little boy then silently asked God to make the nightmares stop. In the corner, the fire crackled merrily, warming the room. Juan squatted on his sitting mat, clutching his clay cup.
When Consuela laid the rosary on the family altar, Juan bent forward on his sitting mat and glared at Felipe. "Boy, you better not have no bad dreams tonight! I'm sick and tired of you bein' a baby!"
Felipe bit his trembling lip. He took a deep breath, to force the tears down. He gazed at his lap. With all his heart, he yearned to make his father happy with him and proud of him. To somehow earn his love.
"You hear me, Felipe?!" Juan's voice carried a warning. Felipe winced.
"Yes, Papá." The little boy sighed. "Por favor, don't be mad at me. I don't mean to be bad."
Juan did not respond. He poured some pulque into his clay cup and gulped it down. Consuela patted her son's back. "Bedtime, Felipe."
Felipe rose to his feet and ambled toward the corner. He unrolled his sleeping mat, spread it on the floor next to the wall, and knelt down on it. As his mother leaned against the wall and listened, Felipe said his bedtime prayers.
When he had finished, Felipe undressed, put on his nightshirt, and lay down. His mother covered him with his serape and kissed him goodnight.
For a time, Felipe lay still, gazing at the room and sucking his finger. The fire cast towering shadows on the wattle-and-daub walls. Soon, he started to daydream. He reminisced about the events of that day. Felipe loved market day. Next to fiestas, market day was his favorite event. It meant a chance to spend the day playing with Rafael, visiting the padre, and being told stories by his godfather. And it meant a chance to see all the people as they crowded in the plaza. Gradually, Felipe's eyes grew heavy, and he yawned.
Boom!
Felipe shot up in terror. It was broad daylight, and his parents were pushing a cart with him in it. Loud booms exploded in his ear again and again. Suddenly, an earsplitting boom knocked the cart over!
END OF CHAPTER 3