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Faith, Hope, and Murder: A Community of Faith Mystery (Volume 1)

By Elise M Stone

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Death in the Desert
Rosa grasped her belly as another wave of pain washed through her body. It was too soon. The baby wasn’t due for another two months. As the pain ebbed, the tension left her body and she sucked in slow breaths of the parched desert air. Her mouth was so dry. She glanced over at the plastic bottle that Javier had left behind, empty and mocking her as it rolled back and forth in the wind, rattling over the scrabble of sand and pebbles that covered the bottom of the wash.
Javier had tried to make her comfortable. He’d left the last of their water, found her a shady spot beside a boulder after she told him she could go no farther. He’d taken the pack from her when the coyote had threatened to kill them both if the drugs were left behind.
A tear trickled down the gritty surface of her cheek as she thought of Javi struggling under the weight of fifty pounds of marijuana strapped to his back. He was strong, but so was the desert sun. They’d been promised it would only take a day to cross the desert. They’d been promised a van would pick them up and drive them to Tucson. They’d been promised there would be plenty of water stops along the way. They’d been promised so much in return for carrying the drugs across the border like pack animals. Even when the trek had stretched from one day to three, the coyote had promised that it would not be much farther.
It would be worth it, Javier had said, if their baby could be born in America. There was nothing for them in Mexico. Javier was a hard worker, but there were no jobs in their village. The Estados Unidos had many jobs that paid well; so well that those who successfully avoided the Border Patrol could send money home to their families. Rosa had been afraid, but she had been more afraid to let Javier go alone. She wanted the best for her baby. She wanted him to be a United States citizen.
A gush of liquid flowed out of her body to be sucked up by the dry desert. Another pain, sharper than the rest, squeezed her stomach; she screamed in her agony and fear. Her baby, her beautiful baby. There was no one to help her here. If only she were with her mother and her sisters. They would know what to do. But they were back in Mexico, anxiously waiting for the phone call she’d promised to make as soon as they reached Tucson. She knew now that neither she nor her baby would ever see the city.
Another contraction came and she felt the baby move inside her, struggling to come out into the world. She tried to keep it from being born. If only she could hold out a little longer. Surely Javier would return soon, bringing help. She battled with her body, but the urge to push was overwhelming. When she could no longer resist, she pushed and prayed and cried and screamed.
The baby came out, silent.
Rosa leaned forward. With shaking hands, she reached between her legs to pick up the still form. She cleared his nose and mouth, prayed to God that he would breathe. So tiny. So very tiny. Against everything within her, she forced herself to smack the bony backside, willing him to cry.
And still her baby was silent.
Rosa clasped the bloody form to her breast and sobbed. There was no moisture left inside her for tears. Her eyes were sandpaper, her mouth cardboard. After a time, she too was silent.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, chasing the shadows from the rock next to which Rosa lay, cradling her dead child. A lizard skittered across the sand, sensed the body, and darted off in another direction. There was nothing left except the sun.

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