Dancing with Angels
By Tendervoid
Copyright 2011 Tendervoid
Smashwords Edition
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Contents
Chapter 5: One Night in Hawaii
Chapter 13: A Shadow of Darkness
Chapter 17: Opportunities Missed
Chapter 20: Confirmation of Love
Chapter 22: Maria’s Suspicions
Chapter 24: Sterling’s Conception
Dancing with Angels
Chapter 1
July 13, 1973
9:45p.m.
Denver General Hospital
The wind howled ferociously outside the window of the small room. The ninety degree temperatures had taken their toll on the usually busy traffic; even the homeless shelter on Laramie Street had opened its doors to the park dwellers and alley people.
Inside the room at Denver General, the air was as thick as it was outside. No one except the woman in the bed in room 407 noticed that it was stifling, suffocating, an oppressive weight, as if she were buried under a full size mattress instead of lying on one.
The air-conditioning system was working, but it felt to her as if it were spewing heat instead of a cool breeze. The air had a slight electrical charge to it; a kind of tingling sensation. The woman’s hair was damp with sweat and her mouth was dry. She reached for the call button attached to the stainless steel railing to her right.
~~~~
Outside the doorway to her room were six more maternity rooms; three on the right and three on the left. A tall brunette approached room 407 carrying a patient chart in one hand and a stethoscope in the other.
If this shift doesn’t end soon, I’m going to scream, she thought.
Marge’s day had been pure hell. First, the new head nurse on the floor was a bitch. Twice she had chewed Marge out for what she had referred to as ‘patient negligence’. And just now she had reminded her of the woman in 407 who had been calling the nurse’s station repeatedly.
“Marge, are you going to check 407, or just sit there all night?” asked the bitch.
“It’s only beeped twice and I know what she wants, okay?” Marge replied patiently. Oh yeah, she understood this new boss very well. She’d seen it at least half a dozen other times, at other hospitals. They always have to prove to everyone around them that they’re the boss and you had better wise up and toe the line, or else. Then on top of that, the woman in 407 was delivering almost a month early. Marge had been one of the nurses attending along with Dr. Epson and Dr. Villareal. It hadn’t been that long ago either.
~~~~
The lady had come in around 10:30 that morning. As far as Marge could tell, she was alone. Marge was just finishing her morning coffee in the nurse’s station and looking over the patient charts before her twelve-hour shift started.
The emergency room had called up to inform the desk that a new patient was on her way. That in itself, was no cause for alarm. It was the patient that turned a routine day into the emotionally charged atmosphere that was soon to engulf Marge’s world.
Marge had double checked the delivery room in anticipation of the new arrival. Clean sheets—check. Sterile utensils—check. Incubators, on and warm with extra baby blankets—check.
She had barely arrived back at the desk when the elevator doors slid open and two orderlies came out pushing and pulling a stretcher. Marge saw right away that this was no ordinary housewife come to add her tiny child to the family. No frantic husband came rushing out, no sister, neighbors, or mom. Just the orderlies who looked relieved to be passing this one on to the nurses.
“Got her,” Doris the bitch had said. “Does it always require two of you to transport a patient?”
“Sorry,” replied the dark-skinned orderly at the head of the stretcher. “The ER nurse said we should probably team up…I dunno…something about her boyfriend going nuts; just following orders.”
The two nervous orderlies were already on the elevator and jabbing the first floor button. Doris picked up the chart lying by the woman's feet. Marge and Donna, another pediatric nurse, began to wheel the stretcher to the delivery room. It didn’t take a chart to see that this one was about to deliver.
Donna was at the head of the stretcher, close to the woman’s head. She glanced down to say the routine ‘We’ll have you settled comfortably in just a moment, dear,’ when she saw the woman’s face. “Oh, God,” she moaned.
~~~~
The woman was petite, except for the swollen belly beneath the blanket. Her face was red, black, and orange, the latter from the betadine swabs from the emergency room. One eye was completely swollen shut. Her left cheek was black, with a two-inch long cut running from the center of the cheek to the closed eye. Her bottom lip was cracked and still oozing blood. Her open eye had traces of blood around the iris, and Donna noticed dried blood caked around her ears.
“Marge,” Donna whispered, her eyes glancing down in a furtive way of saying ‘look at this.’ Marge caught the look and came around to the head of the stretcher.
“Oh you poor dear…you poor sweet dear. Were you in an accident?” asked Marge.
“Noooo,” the woman moaned. “He hid ‘ee, he hid ‘ee, he wooden stot hidden ‘ee. ‘I ‘abee, ‘i ‘abee?”
“What did she say?” asked Donna
“She said, ‘he wouldn’t stop hitting her’, and she is concerned about her baby,” Marge translated.
The two young nurses quickly pushed the stretcher into the delivery room. Donna left to inform Doris that the patient was ready for the doctor.
Marge stayed with the woman and asked her if there was anything she could do to help her relax. The woman looked around the room—her eye wide and darting—as if seeking a place to hide, or someone to hide from. Her breathing was coming in heaves and sighs; it reminded Marge of the sounds women made at funerals.
Marge knew that Doris would be in shortly with the chart. She would inform Marge and Donna of the medical status, but Marge wanted to read the other report, the emergency room observation report. This was a mandatory report that the attending ER doctor had to fill out when admitting a patient of obvious violence.
Doris breezed into the room. Ignoring Marge, she went straight to the woman who watched her come as if she were a bull out of control.
“Okay, Ms. Laü. We’re going to make you as comfortable as possible, but under the circumstances that might be quite a task, won’t it? After all, you are pretty banged up. You just sit tight and I’ll be sure the nurses take care of you.” Doris turned on her heel, preparing to breeze out the same way she had breezed in.
“What about the baby, I mean, do we know anything from downstairs?” asked Marge.
“It’s in the chart, you can read can’t you?”
“Of course. It’s just that…well…she was asking, that’s all.” Marge could feel her cheeks redden, and not from embarrassment.
“So read the chart and then tell her. You can do that, right? No need to neglect your patient while you stand there talking to me. You should be explaining things to her!”
Doris continued her retreat from the room. Marge hesitated for a moment, thought better of it, and decided to read the chart. She would concentrate on her patient and ignore the harsh treatment of her superior.
~~~~
Marge quickly skimmed the admission’s report on Ms. Maria Miriam Laü, age 26, a resident of Boulder, Colorado. No other children were listed and emergency contact was a person named Lisa Anderson, who was currently out of town.
Apparently, Maria had been brought to the emergency room by a neighbor. She had been repeatedly struck in the face. She had a mild concussion, her eye would heal, and no broken facial bones. The laceration on her left cheek was scarcely more than a scratch. The baby, on the other hand, needed to be delivered now. Maria’s water had broken and labor was setting in.
“Ms. Laü, my name is Marge and you are going to be just fine. We have excellent doctors and the emergency room report doesn’t say there’s anything wrong with the baby.”
Marge didn’t need to tell her that there wasn’t anything to go on but positive thinking as far as the baby was concerned. At this point, it would be wise to comfort the damaged and frightened young woman as much as possible. Hopefully she would relax, making the delivery less stressful for all of them.
Donna came into the room carrying a pitcher of ice chips and a small glass of water with a straw. She put them down on the table next to the stretcher and stood next to Marge who was taking a blood pressure reading.
“Do you want me to start an I.V.?” she asked.
“Yeah, you’d think they would have done it downstairs,” replied Marge.
“I don’t know,” Donna mused, “I just called George down in radiation and he said that things are really creepy there. He said people are acting as if a disaster is about to happen. Doctors and nurses, even some of the walk-ins are on edge and bickering. Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe it’s a full moon.”
Marge stared at her friend for a moment and then wrote the B.P. on the chart. Donna opened a small kit and began to lay out the works for Maria’s I.V.
“Well, you know what they say. ‘When it rains, it pours’,” Marge mused.
“Yeah, but it isn’t raining. Just muggy and hot,” Donna said.
Maria had been listening to the exchange. Her eye had lost the hunted look, and she seemed to be breathing easier. She reached up to Donna and touched her arm.
“Why is it so hot in here?” she asked, her lips moving slowly.
Donna glanced at Marge. She looked back down into the face that a man had repainted and told her that the air-conditioning was working fine and that maybe the trauma she had gone through had raised her temperature slightly.
Maria seemed to consider this and then looked over at Marge. “My baby’s going to be okay, right?”
“We are going to take care of both of you, so just relax,” Marge replied, “You’re going to feel a stick in your hand, and then we will get you some ice to suck on.”
Donna expertly inserted the I.V. and told Maria that it was done.
As an after thought, Marge told Maria that in all the six years she attended births, they hadn’t made a mistake yet.
She recalled a college professor telling the class that it was comforting to some patients to make them feel as if they were the status quo; that whatever procedure was to be done, had been done hundreds of times before. This extra input gave Maria the comfort she needed and she closed her eye.
~~~~
At 8:52 that evening, Maria Laü gave birth to a 4lb .9oz. baby boy.
At 8:53, a shout went up in heaven, louder than any noise humans could ever make on earth. Lightening crashed outside the hospital and a thunder clap rattled the windows. The inaudible electrical humming that had been present since Maria’s arrival reached a peak, and the power in the hospital flickered briefly.
Anyone watching Maria’s fourth floor window would have seen what appeared to be a large snow-white dove land on the window sill, escorted by no less than twenty sparrows.
Chapter 2
Marge pushed the door to 407 open and stepped inside. The strange but beautiful dove sat outside Maria’s room, still flanked by the sparrows. Maria had insisted that the curtain not be drawn.
Outside the window were dark, heavy storm clouds that had lied about their intentions. Instead of welcome rain, they had brought suffocation, depression, and death. Nine people had been reported dead of the heat wave so far. Even at this hour of the night, there was no real relief. The wind from the Rockies to the west of Denver was usually cool, even crisp. But tonight, it felt like the engine compartment of an overheated 1955 Chevy. Sure, there was moisture in the air—if you liked a steam bath that lasted all day and all night.
~~~~
Maria was lying on her right side with her legs bent at the knees, a pillow between them. She felt Marge enter the room. The air changed ever so slightly.
“Maria, are you okay?” Marge asked.
Maria turned her head. There was no need though, as Marge had walked around the bed to face her.
“More ice?”
“Sure thing, doll. Let me get a quick blood pressure and heart rate.”
Marge wrote the findings on the chart and returned with a new pitcher of ice chips and an empty cup for her patient.
As Maria slipped a chip into her mouth, Marge noticed that Maria was a stunningly beautiful woman. Was it the light casting shadows in a certain way? Or was it the expression on Maria’s face as she eagerly melted one chip after another in her mouth? Hard to tell, it had been a long day. Still, something was different about her.
A necklace that Maria had been wearing lay on the table next to her. Marge picked it up and looked at it. It was an elegant Star of David with a sterling silver chain. On the back was an inscription that was written in what looked to Marge like Arabic.
“Ancient Hebrew,” Maria said. She looked at the necklace and then past it to Marge’s eyes; kind eyes, caring eyes.
“It says, ‘Return home, O’Daughter of Zion’, which means something very special to me. An old man gave it to me when I was at the Supremes concert last May. He told me I would know what it meant when the time was right. I almost didn’t take it, but when I looked up to ask him where he had gotten it, he was gone. So I kept it, and call me superstitious, but it’s…well, it’s…you know…comforting.”
~~~~
Maria had scarcely spoken since the birth of her son. When she did, it was to summon the nurse for more ice chips. Now, with her other patients asleep, Marge found she wanted to stay in here with Maria and listen. To what, she didn’t know. Just...to listen.
She was sure Maria was somehow special. Also, she wouldn’t have to go back and listen to Doris talk about what it was like, ‘back in the day,’ when nurses were real, instead of the glorified candy stripers that they were today.
“How do you feel?” she asked Maria. “I mean, not just about the baby, but about…you know, all of it.” She wasn’t asking out of curiosity, but out of real concern for this woman. She was starting to realize that this young, beautiful lady was somehow important.
Maria’s baby had been the topic of discussion among the doctors for most of the evening. The infant was male, but had a vagina as well. The female organ was completely superficial and Maria had been asked if she wanted a surgical procedure performed to close the opening. She had chosen to leave her son as he was.
Maria looked at Marge, her expression was unreadable. Marge, although well trained in the psychology and mental aspects of patient trauma, could discern no emotion from Maria’s stare. The two women continued to hold each other’s gaze until finally Maria spoke.
“I don’t feel. I just...am. I know that may sound funny, but I haven’t been able to rest like this in such a long time. I guess if I really had to put a name to my emotion, I would have to use the word ‘numb’. As far as my baby…I love him. He’s mine and he is very special.”
Marge understood this very well. Several times, especially when she volunteered for an extra shift in the ER, she had dealt with patients who were numb. They all seemed to have the same blank stare and distant expression. But something in Maria’s eye told Marge that she was very well aware of her surroundings, and probably even more alert than Marge realized.
“I’m glad he’s so healthy. That’s our main concern—especially when a mother delivers as early as you did,” Marge told her.
Maria nodded in agreement. “I’m married, you know,” she said softly. “Well, not officially; I mean we exchanged vows with each other at a holy shrine. I told the people downstairs that I was single because I was afraid they would call him. I’m afraid he’ll do something to me or my baby, especially when he finds out about his female side.”
Maria was beginning to cry softly, almost inaudibly; the tears rolling down her cheek and across the bridge of her nose. Marge was tempted to reach for a tissue on the cart next to the bed, but instead she lightly brushed the tears away with her finger.
Her heart was breaking for this stranger, and she decided to quit analyzing her own thoughts. Instead, she allowed herself to join the young beauty in the trauma of the moment. It was like falling into a well and wondering what would be at the bottom.
“Your secret is safe with me, but don’t be surprised if it doesn’t hold for long.” Marge told her. “There will be quite a lot of paperwork to be done you know; birth certificate, medical records, and so on.
“It really is just a matter of time before he shows up downstairs. If I might make a suggestion; maybe you should call him and test the waters, so to speak. It would at least give you some direction on which way to go.”
Maria’s expression suddenly became dark. Her good eye glared at Marge.
“He isn’t home. He works for the forest service, and he’s usually gone for three or four days at a time. He left this morning just after he....”
Her voice trailed off and Marge could feel herself falling further into the well. She reached through the steel railing and took Maria’s hand. That wasn’t enough. She needed to make contact with Maria.
She released the bed railing and slowly lowered it until it stopped. Then she reached in with both hands and took Maria’s fine, olive-colored hand into both of hers. The gesture seemed to help.
Marge studied the woman’s face. She was darker than Marge; in fact she was darker than most women she knew with the exception of the Spanish girl who cleaned the rooms every night.
Her features reminded Marge of the women she had seen on a TV show in her apartment. It had been a series of news specials several years ago that had something to do with Israel.
The cameraman had shot footage of men, women, and children dancing in what appeared to be an airport. Marge didn’t follow news that much, but the women in that footage had stuck in her mind.
They were dancing and singing and their hands were in the air twirling fluently, exotically. To Marge, it was the most beautiful expression of emotion she had ever seen. She had meant to call Donna to ask her if she had ever seen dancing like this before, but she was sidetracked when the news ended and the I Love Lucy show had come on.
Now as she held the soft hand in her own, she could definitely see the resemblance. Marge was reluctant to change the subject however, and reminded herself to ask after the other story was told.
~~~~
“He left this morning,” Maria resumed, now more composed and almost determined to share this story.
“When I got up to fix him breakfast, he was already in the shower. I scrambled some eggs and was about to put the bread in the toaster, when I felt a huge cramp coming on. I didn’t think it was any big deal until I felt my panties getting warm. Then I felt the wetness running down my leg, and whoosh! A gush of water came out. I knew that today would be the day of my child’s birth. I called Jason, that’s my husband; I knew he was in the bedroom because the shower had stopped.”
Maria paused to slip an ice chip into her mouth. Marge looked at her watch and saw it was 10:05p.m. She needed to go get the baby so Maria could attempt to breast feed.
~~~~
Dr. Villareal had delivered the child, and after the extended examination, had given the thumbs up to Maria and the other nurses. Maria held the blanket-wrapped infant close to her breast as soon as Donna had given him to her. She had cried silently, with the joy that only a mother can feel.
The baby was very tiny, but healthy. Maria was asked what the baby’s name would be, but she only kept repeating, “My beautiful baby...my beautiful baby.”
“Listen hon,” Marge said. “It’s time for you to feed your baby. I’ll go get him if you think you’re strong enough.”
“Yes, please get him. He must be getting hungry and right now I think I need him very much.”
Marge studied the face inches from her own. “I get off at eleven, but I’m going to stay with you until you fall asleep. I have the next two days off, so I’ll be okay.”
She let go of Maria’s hand and put the rail back into place.
“I’ll be right back,” Marge whispered. She closed the door softly and went to the nursery.
~~~~
The baby was asleep in a tiny glassed-in incubator. Marge knew that because of the infant’s weight, he would need to be kept warmer than some of the other occupants of the nursery.
She quietly opened the inner door to the nursery and walked over to the incubator. The little blue paper attached to the head of the tiny bed simply read, Baby Laü.
Marge reached into the enclosure and adjusted the little blue blanket around the figure. Then she gently took the baby into her arms, and for a moment, a very special moment, studied the doll-like face below her own.
He was so delicate, so porcelain. And those lips, oh my God, when they developed with age, he would be a knockout. They were pouty, and the infant’s upper lip had a slight curve in the center that reminded Marge of a female actress she had seen on TV somewhere. He already had long eyelashes and his hair was as fine as silk. No doubt about it, Maria was a lucky mother.
As Marge left the nursery, she grabbed a small basket from the table by the door. In it were a couple of cloth diapers, some baby powder, a small tube of lotion, a few cotton hand cloths and some extra blankets. As an afterthought, she picked up an extra tube of lotion. This one was for Maria.
She left the nursery and walked between the elevators and the nurse’s station. Donna and Doris were engrossed in a serious looking discussion.
Marge crossed quickly to 407 and entered the room. The bed was empty and for a split second, Marge thought she had the wrong room. But then she noticed the door to her right was closed and a light on underneath.
That’s good, thought Marge, She’s moving around a little.
“Maria, I’m back,” she called through the door. “And I have a little bundle for you. Is everything okay?” There was no reply.
“Maria?” Marge called. She knocked on the door with her free hand, and then reached for the door knob.
“Maria, I’m going to open the door. If you need privacy, better let me know now.” Marge’s hand was already turning the knob. For obvious reasons, there were no inside locks on the bathroom doors, and Marge was thankful.
The door swung open and Marge saw Maria standing at the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her white hospital gown gaped open in the back, and Marge could see bruises the size of fists around Maria’s lower back.
She was naked except for the gown and the bite marks on her buttocks were mottled blue and red. They appeared to be about a week old. Long, thin welts raced across her back from her shoulders to her waist. These were fresh…hours old. She had obviously been beaten with what, a razor strap? Maria looked past her refection at Marge.
“Is it that bad?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know men were that cruel, I mean…you were pregnant, what was he thinking?”
Marge was stammering, looking for a way out of the well. Sure, she had seen women with black eyes; usually they wore those oversized sunglasses while they shopped in the grocery store. How many of them actually looked like this with their clothes off? They rarely came to the hospital; it was better to keep it quiet.
“He wasn’t thinking! He was in a rage. He’s always in a rage. The only moments of calm about him are when he’s sleeping or drooling over some woman.”
Maria saw the tiny bundle in the mirror and turned around. Marge took a hesitant step back, as if to lead Maria away from the accusing mirror.
“Come on back to bed. I’ll help you get situated and then we’ll see just how hungry this little man is.”
Maria walked slowly back to the bed. She crossed to the side by the window and turned around and sat down. She noticed that the dove was still there, but the sparrows had left.
She braced her weight on her hands and slowly lifted her legs onto the bed. The head was inclined slightly, but Marge would raise it further after the baby was in Maria’s arms. She slid her legs under the thin sheet and then pulled it up to her waist.
Marge handed the child to his mother. As Maria adjusted the baby in her arms, Marge pulled the release lever to raise the head of the bed.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“It feels good; I think I’ll be comfortable like this.”
Maria had shrugged one shoulder free of the loose gown, and it opened to the top of her right breast. Marge watched as Maria situated the infant’s head.
“I guess I didn’t get my gown open far enough,” Maria said. Her hands were full, and she looked shyly toward Marge.
“That’s okay, I’ll help you,” Marge offered.
She had moved back to her chair between the window and the bed. Marge stood and lowered the shoulder of Maria’s gown, exposing her swollen breast.
“That should do it. After he sucks for a few minutes, we should switch to the other breast. It will be more comfortable for you, and it will train him at the same time.”
Maria looked down at the tiny face and guided his mouth to her nipple. The infant almost immediately took the swollen gland into his mouth. The suction was delicate, and Marge could see that she wouldn’t have to guide Maria or even intervene. It was as if the mother and child had bonded instantly.
Maria could feel her son gently pulling on her nipple. It felt as if something was withdrawing out of her. It felt hot, wet, and so sweetly intimate.
She could not take her eyes off her baby. One tiny hand had escaped the blanket and pawed gently at her breast. The child lost the nipple momentarily, and his tiny head twitched back and forth, searching. Maria began to guide his head back to the place flowing with her sweet milk, but there was no need. The boy had recaptured his delight and was busy sending his mother back to the new, warm, secret place just discovered.
Marge was watching this little drama when it suddenly occurred to her to leave the new mother in private. She excused herself after making sure the call button was within reach. She needed to wrap up her paperwork for the night and then she would be back. One last look at the two from the door, and Marge was on her way.
~~~~
“Yeah, but when you’ve been a nurse as long as I have, you’ll see things in a different light.” Doris was espousing to Donna the ins and outs of patient care.
Donna looked up gratefully at Marge as she entered the station.
“Well, how’s the new mom?” she asked. Thank God Marge had finally returned. Having to listen to this shit from Doris was draining, like a leech that couldn’t be picked off.
“She’s doing fine. She seems like a natural with her baby; I didn’t have to do anything at all!”
“Sounds about right for you, huh,” quipped Doris, looking at Marge over the top of her glasses.
“You know what—” began Marge.
“Hey Marge,” Donna interrupted, “let’s grab a Coke before we start our summaries. I want to get out of here on time tonight.”
“Yeah, okay,” Marge knew what Donna was doing and she was grateful. She was also in a hurry to get the required end-of-shift report done, but for a different reason.
Chapter 3
Maria hummed a tune she had heard somewhere. “La-la, la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la.” The melody was repetitive, complete with percussion and bass sounds in her head. It was definitely not an American tune, but Middle-Eastern.
Her eye was closed and images as clear as day danced on the movie screen of her mind….
~~~~
Young girls were dancing in a circle. They wore white chiffon dresses so sheer, that their olive-skin was evident beneath them. Their hands were joined, and they were smiling and gazing toward the sky.
Around the girls sat young boys, each with an instrument. One youngster had a harp and was busily strumming the strings to and fro. Another boy had a flute; one of the old wooden flutes that Maria recognized from paintings of a renaissance era. There were tambourines, and instruments that Maria didn’t recognize.
She began to realize that she was dreaming, but not asleep. She could still feel the gentle sucking of the infant at her breast, and she still felt the weight of his tiny body in her arms.
She didn’t notice that the dove outside the window was watching her intently, its small eyes gleaming with a secret only it understood.
~~~~
The sky in Maria’s mind was a brighter blue than any she had ever seen. In fact, it was the BIGGEST sky she had ever seen. It seemed to be higher and wider than any sky she could recall—anywhere. The clouds that hung in this sky looked like billows of cotton. Maria was sure that if she sat on one, it would support her weight. They didn’t look like rain clouds, just a covering to provide shade.
The atmosphere was charged somehow, not unlike the electrical humming sensation she had felt on earth. Maria knew she had visited this place before. She also knew that soon, a very special young girl was going to come to her….
She looked around. It was a very bright day, but it was hard to tell what time it was. The sun was…not there!
She turned around and noticed that the dancing had stopped. The boys were gone, and all the girls except one were facing toward what Maria knew as the east. She felt rather than knew which direction was east.
The girl walked toward Maria. Her hair was long, down to her waist. It was a shiny, raven-black. The brightness of the sunless day cast myriads of color through it. Her white dress came to just above her knees, with strips of the material hanging down to her ankles. The material itself appeared to be a mixture of gauze and silk. Maria instantly recognized the beauty in front of her. They had met before.
The girl appeared to be about seventeen, maybe eighteen. Her eyes were as black as her hair. They were almond-shaped, with a knowing look that seemed to draw Maria into them. Her skin was like Maria’s own; olive-colored, smooth, and flawless. Her breasts were tastefully hidden under a thicker portion of the dress, but it was obvious that they were perfectly formed. Her waist was thin and somehow the illusion of the dress hid what was below. Her legs appeared strong, dancer’s thighs, sculptured knees, and delicate ankles. Her feet were bare, but around the left ankle was a sterling silver anklet. The medallion attached to the chain looked similar to the necklace that belonged to Maria.
She stopped in front of Maria and stared into her eyes for just a moment, as if deciding the correct approach.
The decision made, she reached up and cupped Maria’s face in her soft hands and leaned forward and kissed her on each cheek. She continued to hold Maria’s face in her hands, and then spoke:
“Shalom, O’ Daughter of Israel. That which you are is now in him. That which you see, will be his vision. That which you touch, will he feel. For out of you has been born the Sound of Heaven. Your blood cries to the Lamb. His blood will play for the Lamb. The time is for the Creator.”
(At this statement, Maria heard a shout unlike anything she had ever heard come from the east.)
The girl continued. “It is His pleasure that the infant is born. It is His time that the infant is born. The child must feel the hearts of the many so that there will be no mystery. He will find himself, and begin his work for the pleasure of—”
What? What was that name? Maria could almost hear it, but it wasn’t exactly a word—it was—EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE; THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE ALL ENCOMPASSED IN THAT NAME!
“I am Sarin. We have met and we will meet again. I have been given to watch over you and the child. For that which the Creator has spoken will be fulfilled.
“Come home soon, Daughter of Zion. Live your days on the holy soil of the ones who came before you.
“Cry not for the separation that must be. For the pain of the separation has been endured, even by the Creator, for the saving of the willing.
“Be thankful for the time given to you, to hold, to love, to nourish.
“Bring the infant unto yourself often, for it is at your breast that the milk flows that will not allow death to claim him.
“It is your arms that he will desire—even more than the other—the man.
“I will take him after your leaving. In my hands he will not die. My protection extends around him even to the day he rejoins you in the Great Gardens.
“You are a blessed woman. He is a blessed son. He will create the Sounds of Heaven to the glory of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!”
~~~~
Maria knew that she was being instructed by Sarin in the care of her child. The angel had begun to glow. A light from within her had slowly increased in intensity, so that now, Sarin radiated heat, as well as light.
“Will you stay with me, please?” Maria asked the girl.
Sarin gazed lovingly into Maria’s eyes. “I will always be for you and all your bloodlines. But from these moments on, you will heal as the other Sons and Daughters of the Creator. Not as quickly as before, but still much more rapidly than others.”
Sarin kissed Maria lightly on her mouth, then turned and raised her palms upward.
“Oh Great and Mighty Lion of Judah, be pleased with your servant, Sarin. Strengthen me to provide the protection for this Daughter and her son.”
The sound of a million (angels?) roared over the landscape. The sky burst fourth a light so bright that Maria had to close her eyes. As the sound faded, she began to open her eyes. Her eye.
Somewhere in the vision, she had switched breasts with her baby. He was busy sucking, but the pulling sensation was very weak. She realized that he must be full.
Sarin’s voice echoed in her mind, ‘It is your arms that he will desire; it is at your breast that the milk flows that will not allow death to claim him.’
Maria knew she had just had some kind of supernatural encounter. It wasn’t the first time. She remembered Sarin from a few years back.
Jason had beaten her severely. While she was unconscious, she had met Sarin in some sort of vision or dream. And then, when Jason had taken her to Hawaii to visit his mother, she had encountered Sarin again.
~~~~
Maria wasn’t religious, but she did have her convictions. Being raised Catholic in a Muslim society had been difficult, to say the least. But Maria’s father, Hiram, believed that visions were of a higher origin than common thought. He had taught her not to discount things of this nature.
How many times had her own mother cried over the news of the Virgin Mary appearing in a grotto, or on a hillside, or at a river?
As for her own beliefs, Maria did not attend religious services or practice any particular religion. She had watched the difficulty her parents had as they struggled to hide their own beliefs in Jordan.
Her father had converted from Islam to Catholicism when Maria was an infant. Her mother converted shortly afterward. Maria loved the stories of Jesus when she was growing up, and she loved even more the thought of receiving a visit from an angel, or the possibility of seeing Mary.
But over the years, Maria had found little comfort in these old thoughts. They faded into the background of her life, and were slowly replaced by the need to just stay alive.
She found herself struggling daily to soothe a man who was so tormented by his own demons that he felt his young wife should be tormented by them too.
Maria knew in her heart that she would never forget a word that had been spoken to her by the girl in the vision.
Sarin had been right; it wasn’t the first time they had met. Maria replayed the words and tried to recall the setting. It was like a fading dream. She remembered that she could tell the direction of east, she remembered the invitation to ‘Come home soon’, and that she would be separated from something.
She glanced down at the now sleeping child.
Is it you, my darling child? Will you be taken from me? Or will I be taken from you?
The thought brought an image of a western movie she and Jason had watched recently. A wagon train had been surrounded by Indians. The chief had sent his war party to find and bring back a child to replace his own who had been killed by an ambush of white soldiers.
The young mother in the film had hidden below the buckboard of one of the wagons. She could see the warriors walking through the camp after the initial laughter of the cowboys. She had held her infant tight, maybe too tight, for he had let out a squawk, and suddenly above her, the painted face of a warrior appeared.
Maria had covered her eyes; not at the sight of the warrior, but at the feeling she just knew the mother had; the sick, gut-wrenching terror that her child was about to be separated from her.
Jason had slapped her hands down, insisting that she watch the film, by God he wasn’t going to sit here and watch her cover her eyes like some stupid school girl seeing a spider.
For now, the baby was hers. For now, she would devote her life to his safety and well-being. And for now, she wished that the dove would come back. It had disappeared after she had the vision.
~~~~
Marge and Donna sat at the desk in the nurse’s station and completed the required daily summaries. Two women had given birth that day, and two new baby boys took up residence in the maternity ward. Donna had supervised the first birth, along with Dr. Epson attending. It had gone smoothly and Donna had found the rest of her day to be routine, almost boring. She enjoyed the energy that accompanied a new birth; pep talks to the mother, the reports to the Doctor, even the occasional sparring with Doris.
But today had been different. Marge, her best friend, had been preoccupied since that battered woman had arrived upstairs.
Donna knew that Marge had a soft spot for the unlucky; she had accompanied Marge on several visits to the Women’s Center on Denver’s south side. Marge would help serve the meals, and then she would meet with the new women and just listen to their stories. When she finally spoke, there was no great revelation, no cure-all for the problem, just an honest bit of comfort.
Marge identified with each crisis that was explained to her. And although she had never been in a situation herself, it was as if she had lived in the shoes of whichever woman was currently speaking.
Donna knew that something was happening in her friend’s mind. She could see it in Marge’s eyes and in the way Marge kept looking up at the clock.
“You know, you better be careful with 407,” Donna said. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes a thousand times. What is it you think you can do for her? I mean, she’s going to leave here in a couple of days and you’re never going to see her again. I’m just concerned about you, that’s all.”
Marge signed her initials at the bottom of the report, set aside the paper, and looked at her friend. Donna was frustrating sometimes. She was what Marge termed ‘a surface thinker’. She was great to shop with, or go to a show with, or even the occasional girl talk about men, love, and happiness. But when it came to matters of the heart, Donna was as lost as a kitten up a tree.
“I don’t know if I can do anything for her,” replied Marge. “But she’s all alone here, isn’t she? I mean, where are her friends, her family, anyone? You really can’t expect me to ignore the fact that she is lost, can you?”
“Okay, okay!” Donna knew better than to push the issue with Marge. If she did, she might not get out of here for another two hours. Marge was like an older sister; she was wiser than Donna, and felt she had to explain in great detail her motivation and action.
“Listen, let’s get together tomorrow night,” Donna said. “Elvis is going to be on TV, and you know I’m not going to miss that for anything in the world.”
“I’ll have to see,” Marge replied. “I promise to call you anyway, though.”
“Sounds good!” Donna picked up her paperwork and started for the door. Before she went through it, she looked back at Marge.
“Be careful, please,” she said.
Marge rolled her eyes as if to say, ‘that’s enough. Leave, go home.’ Then Donna was gone.
~~~~
Marge opened the door to 407 and stepped inside. It was eleven-forty, and time for Maria to get some sleep. As Marge crossed over to the bed, she could see that she had made a wise decision leaving the two patients alone. Maria was gazing down at her sleeping baby. She looked up as Marge approached.
“Isn’t he so beautiful?” she asked.
“Yes, you are a very blessed mother,” Marge replied.
Maria looked sharply at Marge. “What did you just say?” she asked.
Marge caught the look, and repeated; “I said you are a very lucky mother.”
“You said ‘blessed,’ that I was a very ‘blessed’ mother.” Maria looked at Marge with her good eye narrowed, not an angry expression, but more of a suspicious one.
“I did? That’s not like me to use that word. Maybe it’s the way you were looking at your baby or something. I didn’t offend you, did I?”
“Don’t be silly. I think what you said is very accurate.” Maria was trying to give a calming smile to Marge, but her mouth still hurt.
“So I take it the little guy ate his fill and then dropped off to sleep.”
Marge had come to the side of the bed. The infant was wrapped snugly in his blanket and resting in Maria’s arms.
“Yeah, I think he’s had enough, at least for a few hours.” Maria held the child out to Marge. It was time for him to go back into the warm incubator.
“Back in a minute,” Marge said, accepting the bundle into her own arms. She took the child back to the nursery, checked his diaper, and placed him in the warm environment that would be his home for the next twenty-four hours.
She looked at her watch. It was eleven forty-five. She went back to 407 and crossed the room to her chair.
“How are you doing, dear?” Marge asked.
“Better, a lot better,” Maria replied. “My back still hurts, and I feel as if I’ve just given birth….”
At that comment, both women cracked up. Marge laughed and Maria laughed with her.
“Oooh, that hurts,” Maria said, placing a finger to her lip. “But I think I needed that.”
“Yeah, you’re going to be just fine,” Marge said. “By the way, has anyone looked at your back? You have quite a bit of bruising and some very mean looking welts.”
“Well, the nurse who took my clothes and put the gown on me in the emergency room saw, but she didn’t say anything.” Maria replied.
“I’m sorry about that,” Marge said. “She should have said something, or at least put some gauze over the wounds. You should try to sleep now. I’ll stay until you drop off.”
“You’re probably right, but I don’t feel like sleeping right now. If you are really interested in what happened, I’ll tell you.”
Marge adjusted Maria’s pillow, then reclined the head of her bed. Maria turned on her side facing Marge and tried to put the extra pillow back between her knees. Marge could see what she needed and reached under the blanket to help her. As soon as Maria was comfortable, she told Marge about the day’s events.
~~~~
“I was trying to get Jason his breakfast when my water broke,” she began. “I don’t know why, but I just kinda’ stood there for a moment.”
Maria closed her eye and replayed the morning’s events as if a film were running inside her mind….
“Oh, my God…Jason, I think something’s happening! My water broke.”
She was standing in front of the kitchen counter, about to put some bread into the toaster.
What a mess, she thought, If I don’t get this cleaned up, he’ll be mad.
“So what are you saying?” came the voice from the bedroom. “Are you going to make me late for work? Or are you going to get me something to eat so I don’t have to leave out of here starving?”
“I may need to go to the hospital.” Maria said.
She wasn’t sure, but if this were the baby, she did not want to be in the house by herself. Jason had the only transportation; a 1966 Dodge pickup that he drove to work.
She had a car when they first moved to Boulder, but Jason had torn the engine apart to fix something and had not gotten around to putting it back together.
“Shit…shit…SHIT!” came the voice out of the bedroom.
“You need to go to the hospital and I need to go to work! The kid ain’t due for another month, so why are you doing this to me?”
Maria had gotten a dishrag from the sink and was trying to clean the mess from the floor. She knew that when Jason started asking why someone was doing something to him, what would be next.
“You think the world revolves around you, don’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. And from the growing volume, Maria could tell he was on his way. He came around the corner of the doorway that led from the hall.
Maria tried to stand up, but she was hurting. She had bent to reach the floor, but standing back up seemed a little too painful for her delicate knees. She put her hands on the edge of the counter to raise herself. The wet rag was still in her left hand, dripping. Jason took two steps into the kitchen and slapped the hand away.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he cried. “Look at my toast! You got that shit all over it!”
Sure enough, the rag’s contents had run over the counter and was soaking into the bread.
“Please help me up, I’ll get you some new bread, okay? Please—”
“Stop yammerin’ like an idiot. And I don’t want new toast. You’ve made me lose my appetite. Now what am I supposed to do? Go to work like this?”
Jason held his hands out to his sides as if to say, ‘Now look what you’ve done.’
“I get outta’ bed, try to get ready for work, and you start in with your whining and complaining. Then, on top of that, you ruin my breakfast! What do you want me to do? Stay home and babysit you all day?”
His voice had reached a pitch that Maria knew well. But surely he wouldn’t…surely he couldn’t—.
“We can get something on the way,” Maria begged. “Whatever you want to do, but let’s just go, please.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Eat out at a restaurant, spend money we don’t have. You’re no different from any other woman; always thinking about yourself. I have a job to go to. Call one of your stupid friends if you have to go somewhere.”
Jason crossed to the refrigerator and reached in for a beer. He didn’t have to check in with anyone on the job. He was his own boss, had his own section of forest road to patrol, and come hell or high water, he wasn’t about to let this sniveling cow take him away from his routine.
Maria had regained her footing and had walked into the living room where the phone sat on a table next to Jason’s recliner. She picked it up and began to dial Loretta’s number. The kind neighbor lady had told Maria that if she needed anything, to call, day or night.
“Who the hell you calling?” Jason had walked to the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room.
Maria held a finger up; she was trying to listen for the phone to be answered. That was all it took.
Jason crossed the space between them and slapped the phone out of Maria’s hand so hard, it flew backward and into the lamp sitting on the small table. The lamp shattered and the sound infuriated him even more.
“Don’t you ever shush me, you bitch!”
Jason grabbed Maria’s arm and tried to turn her around. This was his favorite punishment for her. He would punch her several times in the kidney area. Afterward, her breath completely gone, she would slump to the ground and gasp for air.
Jason wasn’t worried about killing Maria. He had found out a few years back that she just…healed. No matter what he did to her, (and he did a lot), she would bounce right back as if to say ‘you can’t hurt me, na-na-na-na-na-na.’
Somehow the sight of her so weakened would excite Jason. He would flip her onto her stomach, lift her dress up, and force himself into her backside. The pain was so intense that Maria would think she was dying. Not this time, though. Maria was certain that if he entered her there, it might hurt the baby.
“Stop it!” she screamed. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
She struggled to break free of his grasp. Jason had the advantage of weight and self-defense training. He also had the help of invisible creatures that lifted his hand repeatedly against Maria’s face.
Her lip was cut, and at the sight of blood, Jason lost the remaining sense of humanity. He delivered two quick jabs to Maria’s back. She fell like a stone, gasping for air. Jason stepped away from the injured woman and grabbed the electrical extension cord he kept behind the recliner.
‘Only a little, only a little,’ he told himself. He brought the cord down on her back. Maria cringed, but had no breath left to cry out. He lifted the cord again and again.
Why wasn’t she crying? Why wasn’t she begging for him to stop?
It’s because she is making fun of you, that’s what it is. She’s trying to show you that you are weak, pathetic, and stupid. Fine, I’ll show her weak!
The sweat dripped off Jason’s forehead. The cord hung by his side, its rubber insulation torn and bare wire poking out at several places. Maria lay at his feet, shivering uncontrollably. There was something in her movements that led Jason to think he had gone too far again.
These were the worse moments; waiting to see when the healing magic would take place. He nudged her with his boot. She continued to shiver, spasmodically. Jason bent down and looked at her face.
“Oh, man. I’m sorry. Jesus, I never meant to….”
Maria’s right eye was swelling shut. Some blood was coming out of her ear. Jason looked down at the cord in his hand and back to Maria. He saw the cut on her cheek and looked back at his hand. His class ring had blood on it. I wasn’t going to hit her in the face. Just spank her a little, he thought. And something else—she wasn’t healing! Usually, it only took a couple seconds. Now he would have to take her to the hospital. He bent down close to Maria’s face.
“Hey baby, can you get up? Come on, get up and I’ll take you to the hospital.”
Jason grabbed an arm and tried to pull Maria to a sitting position. Her legs were bent at the knees, and the pain in her stomach made her scream again.
“What? I’m only trying to help,” Jason yelled. “Do you expect me to carry you? Come on, get up. I know you’re a lot stronger than this, you fuckin’ witch!”
Jason looked at the clock in the kitchen.
“Oh man, I gotta’ go. Listen, I’ll call an ambulance for you. If I don’t leave right now, I’ll be late.”
He went to the kitchen sink and washed the blood off his hands and went back to the phone and hung it up. Maria had rolled onto her back, her legs bent at the knees. She was breathing in gasps. Jason picked the phone up and then hung it back up.
“You can call them yourself, right baby? I gotta’ go.”
Jason left through the kitchen door. Maria heard the pickup start then back down the gravel driveway. She managed to call her neighbor, and as Loretta was saying that she’d be right over, Maria passed out.
Loretta was as good as her word. She entered the small house through the same door Jason had left through. She could see food on the counter and something glittering on the floor. It was broken glass. She went to the doorway that joined the kitchen with the living room. Maria was just starting to moan and turn her head.
“Oh, dear God!” Loretta cried. “Maria, I’m here. Just be still, I’ll call the ambulance.” Loretta picked up the phone and then realized she didn’t know the number.
“Where’s your phone book, Maria?” she asked. “Maria?”
Maria was trying to say something, but the words were slurred and Loretta couldn’t make out anything except for “….don’t tell on Jason.”
“Okay, listen. I’m going to have to take you in my own car. It’s just next door, and it’ll be faster than waiting around here.”