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.




38


In the evening darkness, the muddy water on Main Street had become a stream of silent church goers. The flood had surprised them all, left the town stunned at how quickly Nature could upend their peaceful world.

As the bell tolled, people crowded into the sanctuary to give thanks. Although the flood had caused minor damage and the power was out in parts of town, not a single life had been lost.

From their candlelit niches along the sides of the church, silent statues of saints peered down at worshippers nudged shoulder to shoulder in the pews. The bare wooden cross hung on the front wall glowed in the light of two tall candelabra. A lofty pulpit rose to the left of the altar. On the opposite side, the serene smile and open arms of Mother Mary reached out to the upturned faces of her children.

The reverent hush was broken by the organ, unseen in the back balcony, floating soft music over a humbled congregation.

All looked up as the padre appeared in the pulpit. He shared thoughts of grace and gratitude for the salvation of Puerto Cielo and its people. He crossed himself. Heads bowed, the people knelt. the priest prayed.

As organ music echoed from the ceiling, they stood and sang together.

Espy, her family beside her, looked around at the faces softened by the glow of dozens and dozens of flickering candles. Dominic and Victoria Prado and their children, Sheriff Eddie and his mother, Gina, Carmen and Dante, the ladies of the circle sprinkled throughout with their families. 

All the faces were there. Weary faces. Shocked faces. Relieved faces. Even the faces of Ricky Ruiz and his mother-in-law, Fernanda, and the bodyguard, Frank.

The priest and altar boys prepared the blessed sacrament. As organ music swelled, the penitent slowly filed forward to receive holy communion. When all had returned to their seats, the music stopped.

Under the loving eyes of the Holy Mother, a girl in a wheelchair rolled to the front of the church.

The organ played.

An angel sang.

“Ave Maria
Gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus
Dominus tecum
Bendicta tu in mulieribus
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris
Ventris tui, Jesus”

Ricky was spellbound.

His daughter had stopped singing after her mother’s death. He felt Fernanda gently touch his fingers. They looked at each other. Tears streamed down their cheeks.

Throughout the sacred house, faces softened. Hearts melted. Small thoughts were carried off by the clear cherubic voice.

The girl in the wheelchair was no longer the daughter of the gang boss, El Tiburon. She was the beatific love of Mother Mary caressing her downtrodden flock.

“Ave Maria
Gratia plena”

From her chariot, the angel looked out and smiled.

The silence filled with weeping whispers.

Heads bowed for the benediction.

As one, they called out,

“Amen.”

Holding each other close, the faithful slowly flowed outside. 

The church was empty when Manny pushed Maria down the center aisle. The wheelchair stopped beside Ricky. Head down, palms on the pew in front of him, his body shook with sobs.

Softly weeping, Maria reached out and tenderly took her father’s hands..

He looked up.

***

Above them in the balcony, a tear slid down the ghost’s cheek as her family finally came together again.

***