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.



39


The subdued sounds of “gracias” soothed the night air.

It was midnight and still a line of people remained to be served at the sidewalk kitchen. Gina had thrown open the doors to her restaurant and, with candles everywhere, set up serving tables outside her restaurant. This was her town and her people, many without electricity, and they needed to be fed.

Carmen and Espy dished bowls of hot posole to the procession of grateful smiles.

Manny and Maria handed out bread.

And, to the surprise of everyone, El Tiburon and his bodyguard were ladling drinks. Smiling, Ricky, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, seemed to be enjoying himself.

In the kitchen, Gina and Lucy, aided by the Zorros, were preparing enough food to feed everyone. One of the helpers was having difficulty.

“No, Julio,” G2’s command rang out above the din, “you cut the onions like this.”

The usually brash bully had become quite timid.

Inside the restaurant, gathered around their table, the ladies of the circle were talking on phones between spoonfuls of soup. The group had a new member. Dona Consuelo sat chatting with Fernanda.

Dinner in hand, folks wandered across Main Street.

In pockets of candlelight, many sat in City Park, restored to order after the flood had swept clean the rally wreckage. Others clustered on the church’s entry steps, dazed by a sky sparkling with stars.

A gasp murmured through the calm night bliss.

“Look at that!”

Fingers pointed.

“Like, super wow!”

Through the palm trees, across the beach and the Gulf, a golden glimmer was growing on the horizon.

The moon, quietly ascending to its full and brilliant majesty, tenderly kissed the town of Puerto Cielo with its loving light.

High in the bell tower, even the two watching angels were awed.

***