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As I wait for Pinto to assist her, I hear the organ and Alma’s sweet voice. Alma singing at the wedding was the one thing I insisted on. This reminds me of Christmas Eve Mass with my parents. Today, everything reminds me of them.
I turn to Pinto as he shuts the door. “Would you mind unlocking the chapel for me?”
It’s not a strange request, and he doesn’t hesitate. The tiny sanctuary was built specifically for this purpose. For women like me, who need the strength of prayer before they promise their life to a man who will never love them. As the world has become more enlightened, it’s not used in this way so much anymore, just for specialprincesaslike me, forced to marry men their fathers chose for them.
Pinto nods to another guard, several feet away, before leading me to the chapel. He unlocks the door and sticks his head into the windowless sanctuary before allowing me to enter.
“I’ll be right outside the door,” he says kindly, “if you need anything.”
Pinto has been a gem today. I’m sure he has sisters, or daughters, or cousins he wouldn’t want to see in this situation. “Thank you.”
When I enter the chapel, I go directly to the statue of Santa Ana and kneel before her. Like so many mothers, she, too, gave up her daughter to an arrangement. Only her daughter Mary’s arrangement was made by the Heavenly Father himself. I wonder if it made a difference.
My father won’t be here to walk me down the aisle, but with every step I’ll feel his betrayal—betrayal that I still don’t understand.
It doesn’t seem like I’ve been here very long when the door opens behind me. I’m sure it’s time to go. I don’t open my eyes. I’m not ready.
I feel a small hand on my shoulder. “Just another minute, please.”
“Daniela,querida.”
I turn toward the woman’s voice.Lydia Huntsman.I knew she’d be at the wedding, but it surprises me that she’s here now.
I stand, careful not to tear my dress. We stare at each other for a moment before she wraps her arms around me, pulling me tight. “I know the circumstances are unconscionable. But you’re a beautiful bride. Your mother—”
“Please,” I plead softly. “I miss my mother. I’m a heartbeat away from melting into a pile of tears thinking about her.”
“Me too,” she whispers. “Me too.”
I take her hand and lead us to a narrow bench, where we sit with our backs against the wall. She doesn’t let go of my hand.
Lydia starts to cry. “You look so much like her—I can’t help myself. I want you to know that even when your father said it was too hard on you to see me, I never stopped thinking of you, sweet girl.”
My father made one decision after another to protect me. At least that’s what he said at the time. Looking back at it now, Lydia would have brought me great comfort at a time when I was scared to death.
“Your mother isn’t here to tell you this, but I can speak for her, because I know exactly what she’d say. You don’t have to do this.” She holds my hand between both of hers. “My son is so much more than he shows the world, and I would be honored to have you as a daughter-in-law, but you have a choice here.”
Oh, Lydia. I don’t have a choice—any more than you did.“We both know that there are no choices. Not now. Maybe a month ago—maybe—but not now.”
“I’ll help you,” she says firmly. “I’m not afraid of my son.”
But I am.I shake my head. There are things bigger than me that I need to protect. “You can’t help me. Maybe you can protect me today, or tomorrow, but if I walk away now, I’ll eventually be punished in ways that make my heart bleed.”
“Oh, sweet child.”
“But please don’t be a stranger in my life. I’m so happy to see you—”
Boom.
Boom.
Instinctively, I fling my body over Lydia’s to shield her from flying debris.
We cling to each other as the explosion shakes the centuries-old walls, crumbling one section of the chapel and collapsing the bench under us. Isabel’s and Valentina’s faces run through my head in slow motion, like frames in an old silent movie.
The statue of Santa Ana topples to the floor.
Is it an earthquake? A bomb?
