CHAPTER 1 - THE POWER
In the village of Cristo, in the Dominican Republic, 1970.
It was a very special book. Everyone agreed on that.
Even though its owner was dead, even when the book had been closed and stored away, magic that powerful had a tendency to seep out into the world. The family soon learned there was only one way to protect the living when the book wasn’t in use.
They had to bury it. And so they did.
It was foolish of them to think that such a thing could stay buried for long. The book was Maria’s birthright. She knew where it was hidden. She wanted to dig it up.
"The book belongs to me," she said turning toward her husband in the narrow bed. "It contains the secrets of Santeria and many powerful spells. I must claim it."
"No, Maria," her husband pleaded. "You must not do this! Owning the book changes people. The one who possesses the book must engage in dangerous practices. And what will become of our son? This book will destroy our family!"
Maria’s fixation with this cursed book was poisoning their marriage and he had no defense against it. He reached out to stroke her dark curls. When she didn’t respond, he reluctantly withdrew his hand. For a long time neither spoke and they lay there, motionless, as moonlight streamed through the small, curtainless window, bathing their brown, naked bodies and the bedclothes in silver light.
Blessed Mother, protect my family. Do not let this happen, Jose prayed. A he lay there, staring at the strange, silvery landscape now covering their once-familiar bedroom, his memory drifted back to when he and Maria first met.
It had been less than two years since he’d stumbled upon her in the woods, with all those candles burning. And there was Maria, so young, so beautiful, with her colored necklaces, setting forth food and herbal offerings to her ancient gods. He knew then that they would marry, but first he had to save her from the old ways.
"You must become a Christian," he’d said. "It is the only way."
Maria had, of course, countered with her best argument. As the daughter of a high priestess, she was special. She had been initiated as a small child and had a destiny to fulfill. Certain things were expected of her. But he kept after her and, finally, Maria had accompanied Jose to speak to a missionary. A frustratingly long time passed before she agreed to be baptized, but as Jose soon learned, it was not to be that easy.
Maria’s mother, a generously proportioned woman, who wore gold earrings and had piercing eyes, soon found out about them. From the beginning, Julia was fiercely set against their union and, at last, the tormented, young lovers did the only thing they could.
They ran away.
Jose soon realized there wasn’t any place for them to hide, for the eyes of Julia’s gods were everywhere. Julia saw his hiding places in seashells, in water, and in dreams. When she thought the time was right, she came for him.
Jose had been willing to gamble anything to be with Maria, but, deep in his heart, he had always known they would be found. Even so, when he came home one evening and found Julia, so splendid and powerful, he caught his breath. He couldn’t speak.
She turned and looked at him with eyes that bore into his soul. It would do no good to lie. Julia would know, so the conceited young man decided to charm her.
"Welcome to our home, mother-of-my-wife," he said and smiled. He held out his arms to her and would have kissed her cheek, but Julia stood still, as unresponsive as a carven image. Then her eyes flashed and her nostrils flared. She raised her arm and pointed directly at him. Jose cringed. He could feel forces gathering around him and he held his hands in front of him in a vain attempt to ward off her power. A strangled cry burst from his throat.
"We love each other!"
Julia paused. Gaining confidence, Jose dared to peek at her through his fingers.
"I love her and she loves me," he insisted. "We are meant to be together."
Julia lowered her arm. Jose grew bolder and lowered his hands. They stood facing each other. Julia glanced about the tiny hovel and a strange smile played on her lips. The poverty didn’t disturb her. She, too, had come from a humble environment.
At that moment Maria came through the door carrying a jug of water. One glance at the visitor stopped the girl in her tracks. The sun shone through the window behind Julia, momentarily blinding the girl, making Julia appear as a heavenly being.
Maria gasped in astonishment and dropped the jug. Water splashed across the floor and, to Maria’s surprise, the golden goddess dipped to the floor and recovered the vessel. Not realizing until that moment how much she’d missed her mother, Maria threw herself at the woman. They kissed and embraced until the jug fell again and emptied onto her bare feet.
Maria was crying and, of course, this made Julia cry. While they were distracted, Jose seized the moment. Moving quickly, he took the old, rickety, straight-backed chair, their only chair, and placed it behind Julia. He put his hand on her shoulder, tenderly, disarmingly, and eased his mother-in-law into the seat. Although she didn’t acknowledge his presence, Julia accepted the chair.
Maria sank down in a heap beside Julia, her arms wrapped around her mother’s knees, her wet face pressed against Julia’s skirt. Julia glared up at Jose until her hostility drove him from the room. He reluctantly withdrew to the tiny, outside area, where food could be prepared without inadvertently burning down the living quarters. Glancing nervously back at Julia, he set to the task of slicing melon. With shaking hands he laid the crescent shapes on the best plate he could find, arranging the slices to hide the crack in the plate’s center.
The women, meanwhile, had stopped crying and confronted each other. Maria, still seated on the floor, looked up at her mother with a tear-streaked face. Her right hand nervously clutched her mother’s skirt. "I love him, Mommi," Maria said. "We must be together."
Jose, hurrying back with refreshments, caught sight of Maria. He stopped, transfixed, gazing at his wife's beautiful, upturned face, which shone with love for him. Julia spun angrily about but, as she saw their faces, she softened, her original purpose drained away. Jose recovered first.
"Beautiful lady," he crooned, crossing over to Julia, "It is such a hot day. Perhaps you would like some fresh, cool juice of mango." To his delight, Julia accepted the perspiring jelly glass. She raised it to her lips and sipped. Jose held his breath.
Julia smiled. Maria smiled. Jose grew bold, leaning over to place the cantaloupe arrangement on the table beside her. "Mother-of-my-wife, we also have melon." With exquisite majesty, Julia raised one hand, allowed it to hover above the plate and, to his dismay, descended to choose the center slice. Julia stared down at the cracked plate and then up at Jose. Although she laughed, he realized her mood might shift without warning. He understood she would now accept him, but she would also change him.
Jose sighed. He knew he had little choice in the matter. "You will be our guest for dinner." He leaned over to kiss her cheek. Julia permitted the kiss. This made Jose bolder still and he deliberately tickled her with his mustache until she squealed.
"We eat within the hour," he announced. Maria began to stammer, "But I have not yet . . ."
Jose cut her off. He drew himself up with purpose. "I will take care of everything." He took his battered, straw hat and backed out the door. Maria watched him disappear in open-mouthed amazement.
"When is the last time he prepared the evening meal?" Julia asked in amusement. Maria made no reply. "I thought as much!" snorted her mother. "We have much to speak of, my daughter, and you will listen."