Belen’s Baby
Saturday morning Elias’ wife Belén stood at our door.
She had walked across the field because this was the day June and I were packing to leave for home.
“I thought you would like to see my baby once more before you go,” she said.
“Pásele, come in.”
Belén sat on our bed. Her brown eyes invited us to adore her baby, the four-month-old tiny girl that lay peacefully sleeping in her arms.
“Your baby is beautiful,” I said. “Look at her lovely hair and pretty face. I think you are a very happy mother.”
“Yes, I am happy. Did you know that she is my baby now, but this was not always? Two months ago I was not her mother,”
“Not her mother?”
“The mother died when the baby was born . . . and, you know, Elias needed someone to take care of the baby. He was sad because he loved his wife and he didn’t want the little baby girl to die, too.”
“I suppose his mother took care of the baby for awhile?
“Yes, but they were getting ready to leave for Oregon to pick la fresa, the strawberries. His mother couldn’t take care of the baby and pick at the same time.”
Belén looked at the sleeping child in her arms. “And after all day in the fields my mother-in-law had to make the tortillas. Elias has many younger brothers and sisters.”
“So, maybe your family and his were old friends and you had known each other for a long time?”
“You do not understand how it is. Many families go by the old customs and there must be a proper courtship.”
‘Yes, of course.”
“Elias’ mother said to him, ‘We must go to the other side of the border and find a wife for you.’”
“So they went from Texas to Mexico?”
“Yes, to the orphanage to find someone to take care of the baby.”
“How did they find you?”
“I lived in the orphanage. I don’t remember any time when I didn’t live there. But now I was sixteen years old and the orphanage was too crowded. I was afraid because I had no place to go. Where would I sleep? How would I find something to eat?”
Belén took a deep breath before she rushed on. “Maybe the only way to earn my living and find a place to sleep was to become a prostitute. I would rather die that be that.”
Belén held the baby to her cheek as she continued the story.
“The day that Elias and his mother came to the orphanage, the director brought me into the waiting room. In all my life that was the first time I had ever seen Elias. He and his mother looked at me and then they talked quietly to each other.”
I saw tears in Belén’s eyes as she said, “I didn’t dare to look at them. I looked down at my feet and I prayed, ‘Santa Maria, Holy Mother of God, please ask them to take me.’”
“Then I heard Elias say, ‘This one pleases us.’”
“And you went with them?”
“Yes, right then I went with them, and we had to be married that day because, you know, Elias’ mother is very strict.”
“Is Elias good to you?”
“He is a kind and gentle man. He never beats me like some men do to their wives, or uses me like a slave as some orphans are treated. So now you know that I got a good husband and a beautiful baby all in one day. For this I give thanks to God.”
“How does Elias’ mother treat you?”
“She is the mother that I always longed to have. I didn’t know that this happiness could come to me,”
Belén stood up. “I will go now. I must make the tortillas and I have to watch the beans so they don’t burn while my mother-in-law is in the fields.”
She started out the door but turned to ask, “Will you come back next year to teach us again?”
June and I looked at each other. I saw no doubt in her eyes.
“Yes, we will be back.”
* * *
Copyright 2012, Rolf Erickson