CHAPTER 3

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As the days turned into weeks, and months into years, Maria worked hard to fend for both the child and herself. She couldn't contact any relative of hers because she knew that she'd be arrested or even dead before the letter reaches her family.

Being a fugitive was one of the hardest part of one's life. She was cautious of what she did and where she went. Several times she had tried to return the child, but all attempt was a failure, it was as if fate didn't want the child to return to its family. So Maria had taken the child as hers and had nurtured her.

On a cloudy morning, Maria had set out early to the market, she was a stickler for punctuality. As she arranged her wares on a finally decorated table, the Bayley kids rushed up to her. Looking up at them Maria smiled and said. "What can I do for you two young ladies?"
"We want you to solve a little problem". One of the twin said, with her hands placed on her small waist.

" Go on, ask little one?

"If you take something that isn't yours, what does that make you Maria?"

Maria was startled by the question, she hesitated for just a heartbeat.
"Well children, taking what's not yours makes you ...a thief." She replied, feeling weak on her knees.

"I told you Mia!". The twin who had stood and watched the entire interaction between her sister and Maria, bounced on her heels, feeling ecstatic.

The girls thanked Maria and left her alone, she had replied with a smile on her lips. " Anytime darlings ", but deep down she could feel the deep black taste of dread rolling in the pit of her stomach.
Those kids had just made her realize the gravity of her punishment. Both in heaven and here on earth.

Maria had hidden the necklace that was around Miranda's neck, the night she took her. The necklace was a half silver moon, and it was very beautiful. Several times Maria had thought of selling the heirloom in order to take proper care of the child. The girl needed the best things she could afford, but she aborts the idea almost immediately.

The necklace was the only connection Miranda had with the Marcoti family and she wouldn't take that from her too.

She had done enough harm already.

Miranda blossomed from a very happy child, to a very healthy and voluptuous woman.

Her peers snickered at her body size, yes, she was curvy in all the right places but she didn't let that deter her. She always put her hair in a braid or let it loose sometimes.

Many admired her dark chestnut hair. The girls in Town were mostly jealous of her appearance. At first, Miranda was oblivious to that fact, but as she grew older she saw the knowing looks and understood that she was different.

At an early age, she had learned how to
weave baskets just like Maria. She would sit in a rocking chair at the back of the house and weave baskets till her mother would come and join her.

For dinner, they would both make pies and sometimes bake bread for breakfast. During such times, Maria would look at her, admiring her sense of maturity and beauty.
Miranda, would look up at her and asked puzzled ."Mama, what is the problem? " and she would reply. "My darling, I just loved looking at you, because you make such beautiful baskets and you are such a great cook and you're very strong."
Miranda would laugh, and hug her tightly.

After dinner, they would eat and sleep together in their little room, which had a licking roof, that dispersed water and a single window that didn't allow the proper flow of air.


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