can a frustrated single mom and failed big city journalist save her family and salvage her career by returning to a town run by a gang of bungling thugs?


“The Resurrection of Puerto Cielo” is a novella published in serial form, 43 posts.




6


The ladies in black were bickering.

“He’s a no good scoundrel.”

“But he’s the baby’s father, he has a responsibility.”

“And he’s run off with somebody else.”

Except for Sundays, the dozen or so ladies in the circle met at Mama G’s most mornings after mass, sat at the same corner table, drank coffee, ate pastries, shared gossip, and sorted out the town’s problems, most of which were caused by men.

“Ladies…”

The conversation stopped. All eyes turned to the diminutive woman at the head of the table. With her noble demeanor, and understated grace, Dona Consuelo was the undisputed leader of the group.

She continued, “We are in agreement. Christina will reach out to young Julia and offer help, perhaps food and baby sitting. Her no good husband Fernando will be persona non grata in our town.”

There were murmurs of approval.

“Good,” said Dona Consuelo, bowing her head.

Another voice offered a prayer.

“Amen.”

***

The folding doors of Mama G’s two corner walls had been opened up to create a shaded outdoor veranda with tables looking out over Main Street and Beach Drive. Lucy sat her newly arrived family here and disappeared into the kitchen.

Sinking into her chair, Espy looked around. This place had been her home away from home, Mama G her second mother. So many days, so many nights, so many secret moments with her best friend, Mama’s daughter, Carmen.

Then she noticed the large bold abstract paintings hanging on the walls.

Carmen’s.

Yes, early on, Carmen had known she wanted to be a painter. And she had succeeded. Espy’s dream of becoming a famous journalist had not gone as well.

“Esperanza, so good to have you back.”

Startled, Espy turned to find the small figure of Dona Consuelo smiling at her.

She stood and took the offered hand.

“And your lovely children,” Consuelo added as Espy gestured for the kids to rise.

They nodded shyly, Arnold waking in Gabe’s arms, wondering what was going on.

Squeezing Espy’s hand, the little lady said,”We so miss your dear mother.” and then she was gone.

The family plopped back into their chairs. Somewhere between shock and sleep, Manny stared blankly at the gardeners caring for the lush trees and plants in City Park. Last night Manny had drifted off as Barbara left the city and she’d awakened this morning in a crazy different, small town world.

“You must be starving my chiquitas!”

The zombies turned. There was Mama G, a woman who obviously enjoyed eating food as much as she loved preparing it. She beamed at them, unloading the steaming plates stacked on her thick arms.

“Let’s start you with huevos rancheros, beans and rice, tortillas and hot empanadas. After that, I’ll make more.”

Lucy followed with cups of fresh guava juice and took her seat at the table.

Wiping her hands on a food splattered apron, Mama added, “I want to talk, but there are many hungry mouths wanting breakfast. I’ll be back.”

Turning surprisingly quick for her size, Mama hurried back to the kitchen.

Her famished guests dove into their food.

Then Mama was back, “My apologies chiquito, I didn’t forget you.” and she set a steaming plate on the floor for Arnold.

The drooling dog jumped from Gabe’s lap.

Hoping for a free meal, a bold jay landed on a nearby table. It sized up the small dog devouring the plate of food and liked the odds. The bird hopped down. Arnold looked up, stared at the threat, then snarled with bared teeth.

The jay squawked and flew off for easier pickings.

Gabe laughed, “That’s right, Arnold, show ‘em who’s boss.”

The boy was still munching on his fourth empanada when Lucy and Manny rose and took the empty dishes to the kitchen.

 “Do they fish every day?’ asked he between bites, looking over Beach Drive at fishermen dragging their boats out of the water and up the sand.

“Most days,” Espy answered, sipping her coffee, “depends on the weather.”

“Can I go fishing?”

“That’s a question for Gramps.”

“And where’s Gramps?”

***

To be continued-

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