Chapter 33
Chapter 33
The aisles of the grocery store were nearly empty. I was doing some last-minute shopping, ensuring that I had enough candles and flashlights for when the power went out. Barrow would be inaccessible to the rest of the world during the coming storm. Some people were so nervous that they were flying out of town, choosing to wait it out on the mainland.
"Mommy, tell me about the mermaids again, please," Melinoe asked, looking up at me with a sweet grin. Her curly hair was hidden under her pink hat. She sat in the grocery cart, bundled up, diligently making sure the potatoes for dinner were stacked neatly beside her.
Melinoe loved hearing about the stories from my childhood, keeping them alive in the tales I told my children, and sharing pieces of their heritage and roots. Memories from what felt like a lifetime ago faded like an old scar that never healed. It was hard to believe they were already six years old, sprouting and growing like healthy vines. Each day with them was an adventure, a test of my patience, and sheer exhaustion in the early days of motherhood. But the joy of belly laughs and unconditional love made up for the fatigue of being a single parent. They were my world, filling a painful void and offering me purpose.
I smiled, walking through the aisles, listening to her recount the stories from memory, reciting the playful rhymes Tia Carmen taught me.
Ignatius and Melinoe shared a strong bond. She was protective over her brother, and he was patient with his sister and her curious nature. They shared the same light bronze skin and dark hair.
Ignatius was his father's spitting image, shared his love of learning, and inherited the exact calm and observant nature.
“No juegues con las sirenas o te robarán el corazón.” Don't play with the mermaids or they will steal your heart.
Melinoe recited the little rhyme in Spanish, looking back and warning her brother that it was important to me to make sure they knew my mother's tongue. I saw so much of my mother in her. Melinoe was gifted and saw the world on a different spectrum than most little girls her age. As a baby, she giggled with the unseen. Her gifts often left her isolated at school, and her teachers were concerned about how she spoke of her "imaginary friends," calling in a psychologist after an incident.
A little girl from her class had been bullying her for weeks, and I reported it. Still, after small disciplinary action, the brutal teasing continued. The girl who had been bullying her suffered an accident that broke her arm after she fell from the top of the stairs.
Melinoe swore it wasn't her, telling me the momo were at fault, and I believed her. I explained to her that she had to be in charge of them, teaching that responsibility came with the gifts that came with our lineage. I encouraged her not to be afraid, showing her to embrace the talents that came with the women in our family.
"Are we going back to Monteverde, mommy?" she asked excitedly.
"What did you say, Melinoe?" I questioned, trying to make sure I heard her correctly. A loud and incessant hum began to pound like a drum in my ears, and I felt the sliver of a whisper, the taint of a shadow I hadn't felt in years.
Melinoe quickly covered her mouth as if she had revealed a secret she shouldn't have. She and Ignatius shared a look, communicating silently as they often did.
"Melinoe, what do you mean?" I asked again, this time careful with the tone of my voice, hiding the panic as the hairs on the back of my neck stood. I wanted to clarify that I had heard her correctly. I had never once mentioned Monteverde to her.
Melinoe looked up at me with wide eyes."Daddy is not in heaven like you told us. "She shook her head, looking at her brother again.
"He visits me in my dreams and says we'll live with him soon, but I don't like his funny cigarette." She wrinkled her nose up. "Don't be mad, Mommy. Daddy said to keep it as a surprise," she said, placing her little hand on my face. "He loves us but told me you were mean to him." Confusion crossed her tiny features.
Ice-cold terror flooded my veins, fear gripping me as the ringing in my ear became thunderous. How did he break through? How long? When did this start?
"I'm not mad, flower," I reassured her. "I'm glad you told me." I swallowed, trying to sound upbeat while trembling as I held it against my chest. The protective blue bracelet I made for them was still on their wrists. Ignatius looked up from playing with his toy, and the same question was in his eyes.
" I can assure you, Dove, that our data has not been breached. Your case is sealed tighter than anything inside the Vatican. Only a select few know of your location. We've been keeping an eye on him. Nothing is out of the ordinary on our end. You're safe." Agent Aethra was confident that he would not find me. I wasn’t.
I paced back and forth in my kitchen, taking the chicken tenders out of the oven for dinner, constantly refreshing my phone, and checking for any last-minute plane tickets. But it was in vain. Nothing was moving in or out of Burrow until the blizzard passed.
"Look, Mommy!" Melinoe called, smiling, dancing to the song on the bright, colorful kids' show as Ignatius busied himself with his Lego playset.
"I'll be right back. You both stay inside."
"Yes, mommy," they both called back from the living room.
I was desperate to protect them. If Meroveo had been communicating with Mellinoe, it would have meant it was only a matter of time before he found us.
The blast of the air filled my lungs, chilling my bones as I tucked myself into the heavy jacket. There was no one on the street. It was just the howling of the wind that was beginning to pick up and some dogs barking in the distance.
I dug through the heavy snow frantically, looking for the box I buried when I first came to Barrow. I performed a ritual to banish the unclean and keep the unwanted away. My heart lifted when the shovel hit a hard surface.
Pulling off my gloves, I opened the metal box, relieved to find everything still intact. A lock of my hair had lay next to the blue and white string wrapped around a handkerchief that held the dirt from Monteverde, drops of my dried blood, and a small pendant of Our Lady of the Sea.
I held in the scream, shaking, looking over the once golden pendant that was now completely black as if it had recently been burned. My wedding ring was the same, scorched. There was no explanation, not one that the common man would understand. I don't know how long I stood in the cold, the ominous wind swirling around me, whispering of danger. The slithering constriction moved around my neck. It was that same inevitable feeling that day he found me on the beach or in the barn, cornered and small, willing me to submit.
"It's impossible to break the tie that binds you together." Zoraida's haunting prophecy from all those years ago echoed in my mind.