By the time Sammy got back to the house, Gabriella was in the kitchen working on dinner. Sammy plopped down at the scarred wooden table.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Well, hello to you, too.”
“Sorry, mom. Hello. And what’s for dinner?”
Gabriella shook her head, amused, as always, at the mischievous ways of her son. “Well, I thought we’d celebrate the end of school with your favorite meal.”
“Pizza?”
Gabriella nodded. “Pizza.”
“With ham and pineapples?”
“Is there any other kind?”
Sammy smiled his lopsided grin and pushed at an errant curl. “Thanks, mom. I’m pretty excited about summer vacation.”
“You know, there will be a lot of work this summer in the grove. Raul hasn’t been feeling well lately, and I’ll be counting on you to help him.”
Raul was the foreman who worked the grove, and his mom said he had also worked it when she lived here as a little girl. When they had first arrived, the trees in the grove were barely producing any oranges. His mom said the only reason they weren’t dead was because Raul had taken care of the grove the entire time the house had been empty because he couldn’t stand to see the trees die. But they had all worked hard for the past three years to reestablish it, and now, in their third year, they were finally going to reap a harvest.
To Sammy, Raul looked as old as dirt, and he didn’t think he should be working anyway, but his mom said Raul needed the grove as much as it needed him. Anyway, he liked Raul and loved to listen to his stories about the old days.
“Don’t worry,” Sammy said. “I’ve watched Raul for long enough that I know what to do. Do I get to be the boss?”
She looked away and smiled. “No, Raul will still be in charge, but you’ll be his right-hand man.”
Sammy nodded, cautiously fingering the piece of paper in his pocket. His mom was in a good mood, and this might be the perfect time. In a moment of bravery, he pulled it out and smoothed it flat on the table.
The motion caught Gabriella’s attention. “What’s that?”
“Um… Well…”
She stopped kneading the dough and turned around. When she saw the handbill, she wiped her hands on the apron and moved toward the table.
Sammy quickly covered the sheet of paper with his hands.
She sat down. “What is it Sammy?”
“You have to promise not to get mad.”
“Uh-oh,” she said. “This already sounds like trouble.”
“Mom, it’s just that this is really important to me, but you’re not going to approve.”
“Okay…”
“But I’m almost a grown-up now…”
“You’re ten.”
“And I think it’s time I made some decisions on my own.”
Gabriella sighed. “Sammy, move your hand, and let me see what’s under there.”
Sammy slowly sat back, cautiously taking his hands off the paper.
Gabriella’s face hardened, and she returned to the counter where she began pounding the dough. “You know my thoughts on the subject, son.”
“Yes ma’am. But they don’t match mine.”
She stood still, then slowly turned around, a look of immovability on her face. “I’m sorry, Sammy, but this subject isn’t open for discussion.”
Sammy started to protest, but she held up her hand. “I understand you’re curious about this God thing, but I’ve heard about these tent revivals. They get people all worked up with fake healings and made-up stories, and then they ask them for all of their money. I won’t let you be taken advantage of.”
“But mom. Dad—“
“—Dad was wrong.”
Sammy stared, open-mouthed, at his mom. The statement hung heavily in the air. His dad was wrong? But he’d seemed so sure, so happy about what he’d learned about God. How could he have been wrong about something that had given him so much joy? He looked at his mom. Her face was so tight, so unbending, and he thought back to his dad’s face before he died. He’d been so peaceful and content. He’d seemed so sure.
A tremor of realization spread though Sammy’s body as he realized the shocking truth of the situation: his mom was the one who was wrong. His mom. Wrong.
“Do I make myself clear, Sammy?”
He closed his mouth and sat up straighter. “Yes, ma’am,” he said as he folded the handbill and stuffed it back into his pocket. He felt awful about what he was planning to do. He’d never set out to deliberately disobey his mom before, but it was the only thing he could do. It was, after all, a promise he intended to keep.
The celebration dinner was tense and stilted and Sammy barely tasted the pizza anyway. His mom tried to make it up to him by talking about the summer and the fun things they could do, but Sammy knew it was just that—talk. They hadn’t done anything fun since his dad died.
“What about spending the entire day at the beach looking for seashells?”
“Sure, mom.”
“Or maybe we could pack a lunch and picnic by the cliffs.”
“The cliffs?”
Gabriella quickly looked away.
“Look mom. It’s okay—you don’t have to entertain me anymore. I’m ten now, remember?”
She attempted a smile. “Yes, my big little man.” Why did Sammy feel the need to be so grown-up? Gabriella looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a while and was surprised at what she saw. He was very serious to be so young. Where had all the little boy in him gone? She knew she was failing him, had been ever since Nicolas died, but she couldn’t find the strength to make things right. Her insides had dried up, and what strength she may have had at one time was gone. My God, she thought. How can I be so caught up in my own pain that I can’t give Sammy what he needs? And what must Sammy think of me?
She got up and cleared the table, and in a burst of optimism, told herself it wasn’t too late to become the kind of mom Sammy needed. But after she stacked the dishes in the sink, she leaned against it and the reality of her world crashed down on her once again. Would this hopelessness that sucked away all her energy ever relent? Would she ever feel normal again? Wake up anticipating the day rather than dreading it?
“Mom?” Sammy’s voice startled her as he brought his glass to the sink. “Can I help?”
“No, you run along.”
He saw her wet eyes and wanted to say something, but instead turned and pretended not to notice. Her unhappiness was the reason he had to disobey her. If God could make his dad happy when he was so sick, maybe He could do the same thing for his mom. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to be a man and make everything okay again. “I’ll see you later,” he said on his way out the door.
Sammy ran down the dirt path and ended up in the grove. He didn’t stop until he came to his favorite tree. Sliding down the familiar trunk, he pulled out the handbill and read again that the revival was to take place on Sunday. It was only two days away. He pulled a pencil stub out of his pocket and began to list all the things he needed to do and pack for his mission. The revival was in Principios, a small town about ten miles down the coastline. Since he couldn’t take the risk of anyone finding out about his disobedience, he’d have to walk, which meant he needed to leave pretty early Sunday morning. He might be able to find someone to give him a ride home after the revival.
“Hola, Samuèl. How are you?”
Sammy jerked his head up and then relaxed when he saw Raul walking toward him. He shoved the handbill and pencil into his pocket. “Hola señor. I’m good. And you?”
Raul didn’t speak perfect English, but he liked to practice when speaking to Sammy. “I am still here,” he said shrugging.
Sammy smiled, hopped up and followed Raul to his favorite resting spot—the end of an old wooden trailer that hadn’t been used in years.
“I see you have the church paper. You will go, yes?”
Sammy sadly shook his head. “No, sir. My mom said
no.”
“Hmm,” Raul muttered, shaking his head. “Why does your mother dislike God so much?”
Sammy shrugged. “I guess it’s because she thinks it’s His fault my dad died.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Is it?”
“Is what?”
“Is it God’s fault my dad died?”
Raul took his time answering the question. Finally he said, “I think you need to talk to Padre Salinas from the church in the village.”
“You think he’d know?”
Raul nodded. “Yes, I think he will.”
Sammy wasn’t so sure. He’d snuck down to the Colonia church a few times before and peered into the window while Padre Salinas preached. He was really old—older than even Raul and it looked to Sammy as if he’d had a difficult time staying awake while he spoke to the congregation. “I don’t know.”
“You want I should take you?”
Sammy was surprised at the hint of urgency in Raul’s voice. He looked at him closely and couldn’t help but notice the yellowed teeth that made Raul’s smile so unique.
“I’m not sure,” Sammy said. “Maybe later.”
Raul shrugged it off, making Sammy think he’d imagined the urgency. “Bueno.”
He felt bad for not taking Raul up on his offer, but he had a feeling about the revival. Sammy hoped he would find out what his dad had tried to tell him about before he died. He pushed his hand down into his pocket, touched the handbill and felt his stomach stir with the anticipation of something good on the horizon.
Later that night as Sammy laid in bed going over all the things he planned to pack for his trip, he heard a sharp “whack” on his window pane. He jumped up and without having to wonder where the noise had come from, yanked open the window and whispered. “Juan Jose! I’m here!”
“Vámanos!”
“Wait for me!” Sammy whispered. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Juan Jose, Sammy’s best friend in the world, was always getting him into trouble. Juan Jose wasn’t a bad kid, he was just a boy with an irrepressible curiosity and a penchant for always being in the wrong place at the wrong time. His mom had a habit of grounding him whenever he got into trouble, which was most of the time. This explained the late hour visit. Juan Jose had to sneak out of the house after his mom went to sleep if the two friends wanted to spend any time together.
Sammy lowered himself out of the window, and his feet thudded safely to the ground. When he and his mom first arrived in Rendiciòn, Sammy had learned Spanish quickly because of Juan Jose. His friend didn’t understand one word of English, and Sammy, fresh from the U.S., hadn’t known any Spanish. But the boys were the same age and instantly become best friends anyway. So Sammy devoured the language so he could communicate with him. Besides, he had to learn quickly because Juan Jose was the fastest talker he’d ever met.
Another reason they bonded together so tightly was because each of them had lost their dad at an early age. Sammy’s died of cancer, and Juan Jose’s left for the U.S. so he could try and earn more money to better support him and his mom. But after he left, they never heard from him again. The boys spent hours talking about what might have happened to him, and came to the conclusion that he would never have left on his own. Someone or something had to be preventing him from coming home, they decided, so the boys made plans to find him. They filled notebooks with detailed strategies outlining how they would rescue him once they found him.
But some kids from the village ruthlessly teased Juan Jose, telling him his father had deserted him and his mom. He refused to listen to them because his dad, just like Sammy’s, was his hero.
“What’s up?” Sammy asked as he landed in the dirt.
“Tengo noticias de Maria” (I have news about Maria)
That instantly put Sammy on alert. Maria was the love of his life, and she was the girl he believed he was destined to marry. He’d known it the moment he first saw her six months ago when he spotted her at the market as she helped her father sell produce. She’d been bold, looking him right in the eye as she told him the price he offered for the bundle of cilantro was ridiculous. Every time Sammy thought about the fire in her eyes, he felt a longing to do something—to walk a little taller, try a little harder, to be a little more grown-up than he really was.
“What did she say?”
“She said…” Juan Jose took a deep breath, knowing that prolonging the answer was pure torture for Sammy. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Juan Jose!”
“Bueno. She said she would hold your hand on three conditions,” he said, speaking in his trademark rapid fire speech.
“Yes… go on.”
“One. No one can be there to see. Two. You are not allowed to tell anyone. Three. When she says stop, you must let go of her hand.”
Sammy released the breath he’d been holding. He couldn’t believe she finally said yes. He’d been negotiating this event for months, primarily through Juan Jose because Maria refused to speak directly to him about it.
It drove him crazy every time he saw her at school or at the market with her father. She always smiled sweetly and pretended they weren’t sending messages about the most important event of their lives. And now it was here. And it was really going to happen.
Juan Jose slapped Sammy on the back as they’d watched the grown men do a thousand times at the Plaza. “She said to meet her Sunday at the cove. You know the one?”
Sammy nodded. “Yes, I know where it is. I can’t believe she finally said yes. What do you think changed her mind?”
“I’m sure it was my persuasive powers with the women.”
Sammy laughed, grateful to have a good friend like Juan Jose. “There’s something else,” he said lowering his voice. He opened his fist to reveal the now tattered handbill. “I’m going.”
“Your mamã, she said yes?”
Sammy slowly shook his head.
Juan Jose’s eyes widened. “You mean…”
“I’m going anyway. I have to.”
His friend nodded solemnly. Juan Jose had been on the bus the day Sammy watched his mom stand so close to the edge of the cliff and saw how scared he’d been. They’d talked about it many times after that day, and Sammy told him he thought God might be the answer to his mom’s unhappiness. And so Juan Jose understood the importance of Sammy going to the revival so he could learn about the God his father had spoken of. He supported his friend’s decision. “How will you get there? Raul?”
“No, it’s too risky. I’m afraid he’ll say something to my mom, so I’ll have to walk.”
“All the way to Principios? It will take hours!” he said hastily.
“I know, but…” He shrugged. “But it’s the only way.”
Juan Jose nodded knowingly. “I want to go with you, but it’s too far. I’m sure my mamã would notice my absence after so many hours.” He waved his hands in excitement. “Hey, maybe I should go anyway! She’ll only ground me some more.”
Sammy wished his friend could go with him because he would feel a lot braver if Juan Jose were on the trip. But if he did, he’d be grounded the entire summer and it would ruin all their fun. “No, you better not. Anyway, I promise to tell you everything I learn.”
Juan Jose hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “Bueno.” He reached for the flyer to read it one last time before heading home to sneak back into his house. “Oh no,” he said, his eyes widening again.
“What is it?”
“The date, Samuèl. It’s the same day Maria has agreed to hold your hand!”
Chapter 4