It had been a calm day, the kind of day Jacinta do Nascimento liked. The kind that made you believe nothing bad could possibly happen.

Almost nine months pregnant with her seventh child, Jacinta already knew this one was a girl. Her husband had spoken with the gods and they had told him that much. A girl was coming. Nothing else.

“They won’t tell me more,” Carlos had said. “They said she doesn’t belong to them.”

Jacinta smiled. “Maybe because she belongs to the only true God. And to Nossa Senhora Aparecida. Maybe she will grow up to become a nun. A saint.”

“Woman, stop with these ridiculous speeches.” Carlos laughed and shook his head. “The life of a nun is sad. Our daughter is supposed to have a happy life. She will be a woman with a broad smile and a loud laugh. She will dance all day. She will drive the minds of men and women crazy.”

He opened his arms. “Look at me. Do I look like a man who could be the father of a nun?”

Jacinta didn’t answer. There was no point discussing something with Carlos once he had made up his mind. He was kind. He was patient. But he was a son of Ogun, and when Carlos believed in something he would fight for it until everyone else became too tired to continue.

So Jacinta went back to work. She threw water over the floors and washed the walls. She cooked, made bread, carried the clothes down to the river and washed every piece. By the afternoon everything was clean.

Even her six boys.

They sat together on the floor listening to the radio while Jacinta rested one hand over her enormous belly. Everything was at peace until the voice on the radio changed.

Boats farther out at sea were reporting violent winds and enormous waves. A terrible storm was approaching the coast, worse than expected and moving quickly. Windows should be closed. Wood should be nailed across them if possible. Sandbags should be placed against the doors. Anyone living somewhere vulnerable should leave.

Carlos walked outside. Jacinta followed him.

The air had changed. She could smell it. Far beyond the houses and the beach, the sea was becoming dark.

“Jacinta.”

She looked at her husband.

“I think we should take the boys, food and clothes and go up the hill.”

She knew exactly where he meant. “No.”

“Jacinta.”

“I don’t like going to the temple. God wouldn’t like it.”

Carlos looked toward the sea. “If your God loves you as much as you say he does, maybe he was the one who whispered in my ear to get you out of here.”

“Carlos.”

“Look.” He pointed toward the horizon. “Farther out. Do you see it?”

She did. The sky and the sea seemed to have joined together.

“If we stay here, we risk the boys. Up there we have everyone from the temple. If something happens, we won’t be alone.”

Jacinta didn’t answer immediately. Something inside her told her to listen to her husband.

“Fine. I’ll gather our things.”

“Be quick, woman.”

They left before the first rain. Carlos carried the heaviest bag over his shoulder and another under his arm. The two oldest boys carried food between them. The others carried clothes, bread, blankets and whatever Jacinta had managed to gather before Carlos told them they had to leave.

Even the youngest carried something.

Jacinta carried Maria, still inside her.

She was almost nine months pregnant, so close to the end that every morning she woke wondering if this would be the day. The temple was high on the hill, a good two hours on foot on a normal day.

This was not a normal day.

They hadn’t even reached the steepest part when the sky changed. Carlos stopped. The boys stopped behind him, and Jacinta turned toward the sea.

“Oh, Holy Mother.”

The ocean had changed. From the hill they could see enormous waves forming farther out, long white lines appearing against water that had turned almost black. One broke, then another behind it.

The wind reached the coast.

Palm trees bent toward the ground, their trunks flexing beneath the force of it, leaves thrashing violently in one direction before being thrown back in the other.

“Carlos.”

“I see it.”

Another gust came, and this one reached them. The trees above their heads groaned.

“Walk.”

The boys started climbing again.

“Carlos.”

“Walk, Jacinta.”

Then the rain arrived. It didn’t begin with drops. It came down as a wall of water, and within seconds Jacinta’s hair was stuck to her face and her dress clung heavily to her legs.

The path beneath their feet became mud. One of the boys slipped and a bag fell from his hands.

“Papai!”

Carlos caught it before it rolled farther down the hill. “Hold it against your chest. Don’t carry it by the top.”

Thunder rolled across the sky.

“Everybody stay together!”

They climbed, and the wind became stronger. Jacinta looked back once.

She shouldn’t have.

From higher on the hill she could see the sea battering the coast below them. Waves crashed against the shore and disappeared beneath white water. Palm trees bent under the wind, and the roofs of the houses seemed terribly small.

Their house was somewhere down there. Everything she had cleaned that morning. Everything she had washed. Everything she had prepared for her daughter.

“Don’t look back!” Carlos shouted.

Jacinta turned around, and the first pain came.

She stopped with one hand underneath her belly.

No. Not now.

“Mamãe?”

“I’m fine.”

Carlos turned. “Jacinta?”

“I said I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. The pain tightened through her body until she had to grab the nearest tree. She waited, breathed, prayed, and eventually it passed.

Jacinta straightened. “Walk.”

They continued, but the second pain came harder. Her fingers closed around Carlos’s arm and she lowered her head, breathing through her teeth until it passed.

All six boys had stopped.

“Mamãe?”

Jacinta straightened. “Keep walking.”

Carlos looked at her. “The baby?”

She nodded. “The baby is coming.”

For a moment Carlos simply stood there. Then he looked up the hill. The temple was still too far.

Another contraction came and Jacinta folded forward with a cry.

“Mamãe!”

The boys dropped what they were carrying and surrounded her.

“No. Take the food.”

“Mamãe, we have to help you.”

“We need the food. Take it.”

Carlos didn’t argue. “You heard your mother. We take everything.”

The older boys redistributed the bags. One threw another sack over his shoulder while another tied a bundle of clothes around himself.

The youngest put down the bread and went to Jacinta instead. His small hand found hers.

“Mamãe.”

Jacinta looked down at him.

He wrapped both hands around hers and leaned his little body uphill, pulling with everything he had. “Come, Mamãe.”

He couldn’t have moved her an inch, but he tried.

“Come.”

She took a step.

“That’s it, Mamãe.”

Another.

Her son pulled. Carlos reached back for her from higher on the path, and the older boys pushed from behind.

“Come, Mamãe.”

And Jacinta climbed.

The rain became so heavy that the hill below them disappeared behind it. The sea was still visible between the trees.

That frightened her more.

Waves were breaking against the coast in enormous white lines. Palm trees bent beneath the wind, their trunks flexing until they looked ready to split. Branches flew through the air.

Somewhere below, something large broke with a sound Jacinta couldn’t identify. A roof, a tree, maybe a boat.

“Don’t look down!” Carlos shouted.

Another contraction struck and Jacinta screamed. Her youngest tightened his hands around hers.

“Mamãe. Come.”

She walked.

Please, Nossa Senhora Aparecida.

Another step.

Please, Mother.

Carlos pulled. Her sons pushed.

Keep my baby inside me. Just a little longer. Please.

Her foot disappeared into the mud and Carlos dragged her free.

The wind screamed through the trees.

Don’t let her be born here. Don’t let her be born inside that temple.

Then warmth rushed between her legs.

Jacinta stopped. For one horrible second she thought it was blood.

Then more came.

Her waters had broken.

“Carlos.”

He turned, looked down and then at her face. Neither of them needed to say anything.

“Papai!”

One of the older boys pointed uphill.

Lights.

Finally.

Through the rain, small points of fire flickered between the trees.

“We’re almost there.”

They climbed. Carlos pulled, the boys pushed and Jacinta prayed. The youngest refused to release her hand.

“Come, Mamãe.”

Another step.

“Come.”

Another.

Somehow the entire family dragged itself farther up the hill, carrying their food, their clothes, their fear and a child who had decided she would wait no longer.

The lights grew brighter.

The first building appeared through the rain.

It wasn’t the main temple. It stood at the beginning of the sacred grounds, protecting the entrance and the way to everything beyond it.

The house of Exu.

Carlos pointed. “There. We stop there.”

Jacinta stopped walking. “No.”

“Jacinta.”

“No.”

Another contraction hit and her knees gave way. Her sons caught her before she reached the ground.

“Mamãe!”

Carlos came back down to her. “We have to get you inside.”

Jacinta shook her head. “Not there.”

“It’s the closest place.”

“Not his house.”

Carlos understood. To him, Exu was the guardian, the messenger. Wisdom. Protection. The one who carried prayers and guarded the way.

Jacinta had been raised to believe something else.

To Jacinta, Exu was the devil, and her daughter would not be born in his house.

“No.”

“Jacinta, he is not the devil.”

“He is.”

“He is Exu. Guardian. Messenger. Protection. He takes your prayers to your God.”

“I won’t take my daughter inside.”

Another contraction tore through her and Jacinta screamed. Carlos reached for her.

“Jacinta, enter.”

“No.”

Then the pain changed. It wasn’t only a contraction anymore. There was pressure now, burning, her body opening whether she wanted it to or not.

Jacinta knew that feeling. Six births had taught her exactly what it meant.

Her daughter was coming.

Now.

“Oh, God.”

Carlos crouched beside her.

“She is coming.”

“Then we go inside.”

“No.”

“Jacinta.”

“No!”

Thunder cracked above them. The youngest screamed, and Carlos grabbed his wife’s arm.

“Inside. Now.”

The pain took the decision away from her. Jacinta couldn’t walk anymore. Two of her sons took her beneath the arms, another pushed from behind, and the youngest still held her hand.

“Come, Mamãe.”

“No…”

“Come, Mamãe.”

Carlos pushed open the door to the house of Exu.

Jacinta fought them for one last step.

“Please.”

She looked beyond the doorway.

“Please, don’t make me do this.”

She wasn’t speaking to Carlos anymore. She was speaking to God, to Jesus, to Nossa Senhora Aparecida.

“Forgive me.”

Her sons carried her forward.

Jacinta crossed the threshold, and the pain stopped.

Completely.

Jacinta stopped screaming. Her body went still.

Outside, the storm continued tearing at the hill. Rain hammered the roof and wind attacked the walls. Her children were shouting. Carlos was speaking to her.

Jacinta barely heard them.

There was no pain.

Nothing.

She waited for the next contraction, but it didn’t come.

Jacinta placed one hand over her belly and slowly raised her eyes.

Across the room stood Exu.

“No.”

Jacinta began to cry.

She knew what her husband believed lived on this hill. She knew what people came here asking for. She had simply chosen never to believe any of it.

Until now.

Then the pain returned.

Once.

Hard.

Jacinta screamed, and Maria was born.

Outside, the storm became even more violent. The wind slammed against the wooden walls. Rain hammered the roof so hard Jacinta could barely hear her sons. Thunder rolled over the hill again and again, and something crashed outside in the darkness.

Carlos wrapped the baby in the only dry thing he could find.

Exu’s coat.

Jacinta saw it. “No, Carlos.”

“Everything else is wet.”

He wrapped Maria tightly, but she was already crying. Within seconds the cry became a scream, furious and desperate, impossibly loud from such a tiny body.

“Give her to me.”

Carlos placed Maria in Jacinta’s arms.

Jacinta held her against her chest and rocked her. “Shhh. Mamãe is here.”

Maria screamed harder.

The storm screamed with her.

The shutters shook in their frames. Wind pushed through every crack in the walls. Rain came sideways through the open spaces around the windows while Carlos and the older boys fought to hold everything closed.

Jacinta kissed Maria’s wet forehead.

“Please, my love.”

Maria would not stop.

Her little face had turned red. Her fists were closed inside Exu’s coat and every breath seemed to bring another scream.

Outside, the storm reached its worst.

A tree cracked somewhere close to the house.

The boys shouted.

Jacinta held Maria tighter.

“Please.”

Carlos turned from the window.

He looked at his daughter.

Then at Exu.

Jacinta saw his face change.

“Carlos?”

He crossed the room and reached for the baby.

“What are you doing?”

Carlos didn’t answer.

He took Maria gently from Jacinta’s arms, still wrapped in Exu’s coat, and carried her across the room.

Maria screamed the entire way.

Then Carlos lowered her to the floor and placed her at the feet of Exu.

Maria stopped crying.

At exactly the same moment, the storm stopped.

There was no slow weakening of the wind. No rain fading little by little.

One second the house was shaking beneath the force of the storm.

The next, there was silence.

Carlos froze beside Maria.

The boys stopped moving.

Jacinta stared toward the windows.

The clouds were opening above the hill.

Within moments the black sky was gone, pulled apart to reveal stars, hundreds of them, bright over the trees and the wet roofs of the temple grounds. Rainwater still ran from the leaves. Branches lay broken across the earth. Everything around them carried proof of what had just happened.

But above it all, the sky looked peaceful.

Almost beautiful.

As though there had never been a storm.

Maria lay quietly at Exu’s feet, wrapped in his coat.

Her eyes were open.

Carlos looked at Jacinta.

Jacinta looked at the boys.

The boys looked at one another.

Nobody said anything.

They didn’t need to.

They had all understood.

Jacinta looked once more through the open window at the stars, then back at her daughter.

Finally, she raised her eyes to Exu.

“She’s yours only today.”

But Jacinta was wrong.
Exu was only guarding her.
Maria did not belong to him.