I needed José’s help, but he’d disappeared. I cursed. As soon as he walked through the door, midafternoon, I pounced on him like a cat. “How could you just leave me here?” I hissed, “The children are at each other’s throats. Teresita hasn’t stopped crying, and to make matters worse I think we’ve been robbed. Where have you been?”

He grew sheepish, looking down at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

That’s when my anger subsided, allowing me to notice the three brown paper packages that he clutched in his arms. “What are those?”

“Presents, for the children. I wanted to make them all happy. I thought I could help. I’m sorry, a messenger came by just as I was leaving, there was a meeting for the generals. I got delayed. I intended to come home sooner.” He shrugged as Menotti and Rosita wandered in.

“I was hoping to buy a roast,” I grumbled.

José looked over at the children. “So I go without a roast. At least our children will be happy.”

Rosita reached for her father, but he handed her the box instead. Kneeling down, José helped her open her new treasure. Inside was the doll. From the wide-eyed look on Rosita’s face, you’d think that José had handed her the world. From that day on Rosita and her doll were inseparable. Now, looking at this doll as we made our way to the church, the only thing I could think was how upset Rosita must be without it.

Slowly, I walked into the church. The empty building felt cold and intimidating, making me feel conscious of the hollow clicking echo of my shoes against the polished terra-cotta-tiled floor. Dread filled me with every step that I took. Father Lorenzo sat in the front pew, staring at the altar.

As I drew closer, he turned in his seat to look at me. He stood, silently motioning for me to follow him. He led me down to the basement of the church. It was cool with an earthy mildewed scent. Rosita lay in a little coffin on the table in the center of the room. “I’ll give you some time alone.”

I turned back to Rosita as Father Lorenzo walked away. My beautiful little girl, gone. I reached out, brushing a light brown curl from her face. Silent tears streamed down my face. She was so peaceful that, for a moment, I thought she could have been sleeping. How I wished it were true.

I tucked her beloved doll in with her, smoothing out both their dresses. At least Rosita wouldn’t be alone. “I am sorry, my love.” Gently, I kissed her forehead. “I should have done more to protect you.” I left the church, the silence crowding around me, making it hard to breathe.

Thirty-Eight

I held Teresita closer to me against the gloomy December sky as Menotti and I stood side by side at the threshold of our home. “We should probably go inside,” I said, transferring Teresita to my other hip.