A Gift of Gracias (3 page)

The morning of his journey, Papá thanked María for saving the farm. “These oranges will sell for many gold coins. Now I can bring you back a real gift. Ask for anything you want.”

María could not think of anything she wanted more than to see the beautiful lady, night and day. To say
gracias
and feel that sweetness in her heart again.

“Please bring me a portrait of Our Lady of Altagracia.”

Every night that Papá and Quisqueya were gone, María had a dream. She could see all that had happened that day in the city as if she were with them.

She saw her father arriving at the market with his wagonload of oranges. She saw the gold coins falling into Papá’s hands.

María saw her father going from stall to stall asking for a picture of Our Lady of Altagracia. She saw the merchants shaking their heads no.

Finally, her father and Quisqueya set out for home. When night fell, they unrolled their blankets. Soon Papá was asleep. But Quisqueya sat up, watching the sky. The stars were moving slowly, outlining a lady’s face smiling down at him.

Suddenly the stars shot down toward the earth below: a shower of light in the middle of the night!

Quisqueya stood and held out the blanket that had been covering his shoulders. He tried to catch the stars before they hit the ground.

While Papá and Quisqueya were gone, María and her mother tried to keep up with the oranges. They were dropping to the ground and spoiling.

“I hope Papá and Quisqueya come soon,” Mamá said, “or we will lose this harvest.”

The evening of their return, Quisqueya and Papá were full of happy news. The oranges had sold in a matter of hours.

“But we could not find Our Lady of Altagracia anywhere, María,” Papá said sadly.

“We could not find her in the city,” the old Indian agreed. “But on the way home, I looked up at the sky and saw the lady who for ages has taken care of my people.”

Quisqueya unrolled his blanket, and there, as if painted on the cloth, was a picture of the beautiful lady.

“That’s the lady in my dream! Our Lady of Altagracia!” María dropped to her knees beside Mamá and Papá and gave thanks.

Papá gazed out at the hundreds of oranges growing in the orchard. “We’d better pick them now or they will drop and spoil!”

“But it will soon be too dark.” María pointed. The sun was sinking below the horizon.

“Do not worry,” Quisqueya reminded her. “Our Lady will find a way.”