Page 18 of Run with Me

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,” Isaid.

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 tofill.

“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 plushtoy.

“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 acar.

“I promise, Mikey. It’s time topray.”

“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 carhood.

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 likeJohn.

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 toear.

“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 backrows.

“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, heleft.”

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 justnow.”

“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.

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