Strangers by Mary Anna Evans Read Free Book Online Page A

right man and start making babies.
    Unfortunately, those books also told him about women who needed Cesarean sections to birth babies who were too big. And other women who got dangerous infections afterward. And still other women whose blood pressure spiked so high that they got strokes and kidney failure and—though he told himself to stop brooding about it—sometimes they died.
    He blamed himself, every time she bent over and her face twitched in pain. If something happened to Faye, Joe would always blame himself.

From the journal of Father Domingo Sanz de la Fuente
    Translated from the Spanish by
    Faye Longchamp-Mantooth, Ph.D.,
    and Magda Stockard-McKenzie, Ph.D.
    The Captain-General, Don Pedro himself, visited our vessel as we prepared to sail from Dominica to La Florida. Having secured weapons from our stores, as well as taken two soldiers from among our number to care for the ordnance he took from us, he gave a most stirring speech.
    Upon hearing of his plans to force our way past a seaport armed with two thousand Frenchmen, Father Francisco had the bravery to speak his opposition, begging the Captain-General to remember that he must give a good account to God for his care of a thousand Christian souls. It speaks well of the Captain-General’s respect for the Father that he listened to his appeal, though he did not heed it.
    Our passage to La Florida was yet another succession of omens, good and foul. Near the entrance to the Bahama Channel, God hung a comet in the heavens, where it shone long enough for a penitent soul to repeat two Credos. The sailors spoke of this as a good omen, yet the next day found us utterly becalmed. Father Francisco prayed ceaselessly, and shortly after the sun passed its highest point, Our Lord sent a fresh wind and we were under full sail again.
    This miracle continued, for we soon sighted land. Taking anchor, we found ourselves miraculously near the enemies we sought, without any need to thank our pilots. These benighted men had pretended that they knew our location, while claiming that we were yet one hundred leagues from La Florida. I confess that I fully believed them, up till the moment that La Florida’s coastline crested on the horizon like the monstrous whales we encountered while far at sea.
    And then the evil omens resumed. For four days we remained at anchor, thwarted by contrary winds. When they abated, we had no winds at all.
    As we waited, the Captain-General sent scouts ashore to seek the location of the French port, and I asked to accompany them. I confess to a burning curiosity to see this wild country and the wild people who lived there.
    We first built a large fire on the shore in hopes of attracting Indians who could lead us to our destination. When no one appeared, the lead spy cried out—
    “There is proof of their ignorance. They are too dimwitted to wonder who has landed on their shore!”
    I wondered whether their absence might be more due to caution than ignorance, but I do not have Father Francisco’s boldness, and so I held my tongue.
    The decision was made to penetrate the interior, and we arrived at the village of a tribe of Indians known as the Timucua. They received us kindly, serving us abundant food and embracing us as friends. Through sign language, they asked us for gifts in return, as I have learned is their custom, and our soldiers complied with trinkets such as beads and mirrors. In return, the natives handed our leader two pieces of gold. They were small nuggets and not of the highest quality, yet I now believe that this gift marks the natives’ true moment of ignorance.
    How could they have known how much blood had been spilled—and would soon be spilled again—for this subStance that is, truth be told, not very useful. You cannot eat gold. You cannot build a house of it. You cannot clothe yourself in it. You cannot burn it for warmth. Why do we kill for it?
    I am now at the end of a long life, and still I cannot answer that question.
    I do