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.




10


The little girl watched from the open doorway. Sitting at his desk, face creased in concentration, Sam Diaz pecked at his old manual typewriter. She looked up at the painted letters on the door. they read-

“Editor.”

She smiled. Her dad was working on the next edition of the Puerto Cielo Star, just like he’d done every week for as long as she could remember.

“No, Rico, you’re three weeks late. We’re not going to run your advertisement until you pay up.”

The girl turned to the desk in the outer office. Her mom smiled at her. That smile often fooled people. Behind it lay a hard business toughness.

Sam Diaz wrote the paper. Sophia Diaz ran it.

This was the only life Espy had ever known and she loved it. Everyone read the Puerto Cielo Star. and everyone in town knew the Diaz family. 

“Espy!”

Espy jerked, spun her chair around, stared at the tall figure in the doorway of the editor’s office.

Black high heeled boots, tight black jeans cinched with a wide jeweled belt, wrists jangling with silver bracelets, a white peasant blouse covered with flowery needlework, a large ornate medallion on a chain around her neck, the striking woman with shiny black hair pulled back in a pony tail, flashed a gleaming smile.

Carmen, Espy’s muddled mind announced.

“Where were you, amiga?”

“Daydreaming,” Espy answered, shaking her head awake and jumping from her chair.

Carmen, the girl she’d grown up with. The friend who had laughed and played and cried with her. Like Espy, now a single mom who had little use for men.

Sisters in every way that mattered, the two women hugged, then studied each other at arms’ length.

“Sorry I missed you yesterday,” Carmen said, “I was in the city selling art and I’m off to a meeting, which I hope will turn into more work. Let’s have dinner tonight and catch up.”

Carmen embraced Espy once more, kissed her on the cheek, and, with a sharp staccato of heels on the worn wooden floor, was gone as quickly as she’d come.

Returning to her chair, Espy sat musing.

She remembered Carmen declaring as a precocious ten year old that she would be a famous artist. She was always sketching, drawing, painting, covering the walls and ceiling of her room with art. She received a scholarship to study at university and then apprenticed to a well known painter. Developing a unique daring style, Carmen got a break when a gallery owner took a liking to her work and offered a solo show. Carmen had sold every painting displayed. Suddenly, she was a rising star with a thriving business. 

Espy rocked back in her chair and stared at the bills on the desk. Right now, thriving was the last thing you could say about the Puerto Cielo Star. Lucy had warned her of the anxious advertisers and fleeing subscribers. One thing was clear, she thought, the Star needed to get back on the street.

She was halfway through the stack when she found the letter.

“Wow!” She said reading it, “This is the story we need.”

***

She saw her sitting alone.

Manny thought it strange that in a lunchroom crowded with jabbering students, no one was at the table with Maria. She’d noticed the same thing as they’d walked through the busy halls together. Kids seemed to go out of their way to avoid the girl in the wheelchair.

Manny approached, “Hey, got room for me?”

Maria looked up and smiled, “Sure!”

Manny slid into a seat beside Maria and soon they were gabbing about the morning’s adventures. Manny unwrapped her peanut butter and jam sandwich, explaining this was normal fare from a mom who didn’t like to cook.

“My gran loves cooking,” Maria said, peeling open a corn husk to reveal a tamale covered in Mole sauce.

“Wow!” exclaimed Manny, “I love tamales.”

“Let’s trade,” and the girls laughed and continued chatting while eating each others lunches.

“Hola, chica, who’s the new girl?”

The girls turned. A tall, skinny boy with combed back greasy hair stood above them. He was wearing a black t-shirt with sleeves rolled up and a gold chain around his neck. This on top of very tight black jeans and bright orange trainers.

The intruder put both hands on their table, leaned close to Manny, and displayed a lecherous grin with a single gleaming gold front tooth.

“They call me Julio and I’m available,” he whispered to Manny, his face only inches from hers.

Manny gasped, the stench of his cologne was sickening.

“They call her N.A.,” snapped Maria, “she’s my friend and definitely not available to a jerk like you!”

“Too bad,” Julio said, straightening up, “playing with me can be a lot of fun.”

“Go play with yourself, Julio,” countered Maria.

Julio shrugged, looked at Maria, back at Manny, then swaggered away.

Manny burst out laughing, “Who was that?”

“A guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to girls.”

The school bell rang and the lunchroom emptied.

Julio watched the two girls head to their next class. That cute one, what was her name? Fanny, Sammy, something like that. He smirked. She’d come around, they always do.

God’s gift to girls snuck off for a smoke.

***

To be continued-

Copyright 2024 Tio Stib