Chapter 1

The tiny church was located almost on the border between the two countries primarily because it was one of the major routes for clandestine movement of migrant workers shifting to the north to take advantage of the need for willing workers. The undocumented transients were wise enough to avoid the usual centers of poverty relief with their governmental connections and tended to use the religious-based centers for their special needs.

The latest batch of dirty and exhausted workers from the south that crowded the vestibule of the small church and filled the tents in the walled garden were typical of the usual mix of migrants with the exception that there were several young people amongst them that had vacated a particularly harshly disciplined governmental institution that was more like a prison farm than a sanctuary.

Brother Harold was distressed to see the naïve young people with their simple air of innocence and need for protection being harassed by the older male workers as a normal course of events. He saw one small person whose gender was undecipherable because of the loose clothing and layers of grime. He or she was silent and rolled up in a defensive ball out of the way of the others. The astute Brother was certain it was a survival mode for the poor little thing and undoubtedly a way to escape notice, when blending in was the name of the game.

He said a prayer of thanks for the fact that the soup stretched in a near miracle aided by the discarded potatoes and cans of corn provided by a generous local food market.

A couple of disrespectful organizers came in with transportation for the larger and more muscular transients and a bus arrived to take the older females to jobs in the large hotels in the city. Only the half-dozen or so of the smallest undocumented escapees remained looking bewildered at their sudden lack of crowded surroundings.

The sound of a van filled the courtyard with a rattle that coincided with the disappearing sun behind the tall mountains in the distance.

It whisked all of the remaining workers into its interior, with the exception of the shy one with a cap pulled down to remain an unmemorable blank in people’s eyes.

“It looks like you will have to stay with us for a while longer, little one.”

The dirty face looked up at him and he saw right away it was a girl and not a boy. He had hoped it was a boy because of the idea that was growing in his head. His thought was to keep the small worker as an altar boy to help in all the minor chores around the church and assist in the ceremonial weddings, baptisms, and funerals for the local populace. The fact that it was a girl made that possibility unlikely, because the bishop frowned on having girls as altar boys even though the Vatican had given permission a long time ago.

The dirty face spoke to him with an educated tone of voice sounding more like one of the ruling class and not just another laborer from the slums of a decaying city.

“I understand, Father, I thank you for the food and for a place to rest. Is it permitted for me to wash up and get this terrible dirt off my skin?”

He beckoned her with his finger and she followed him obediently with her head lowered and her hands together in respect for their location inside the rectory of the church. Brother Harold gave her a towel and a fresh bar of Ivory Snow from the wooden tub in the storeroom. It looked to him like she might need the entire bar to get clean again.

“I am afraid the water will only get a hint of being warm because our heater is not working properly, but at least it is not cold to make you shiver.”

Brother Harold was surprised that the girl started stripping down even before he was able to withdraw from the bathroom. Once she started, he was frozen in place, because it would seem more like a retreat, than obeying any unwritten law concerning modesty. He decided it would be necessary to find some clean used clothing for the girl from the donated piles in the closet. It would be a crime to dress her petite figure in the same filthy rags she had just taken off. It was obvious that she was cured of any shyness by the stay at the institution where bathing was in a large communal wash stand with no regard for gender at all. He wondered if she had been subjected to any sexual advances in the orphanage by either the male residents or the disreputable staff assigned to monitor their adherence to the rules.

“By the way, little one, I am not a priest, my name is Brother Harold and I keep the church running throughout the week. The priest is Father Brown and he comes down here from the big city each Sunday to perform the Mass and hear confessions.”

The girl looked at him through the mist of the water and suds from the soap on the towel. She was struggling to get her back and legs clean and he assisted by running the wet towel over her dark skin that quickly turned to a much paler tone after a few swipes with the cloth. She leaned forward to allow him to reach all of her hard to get places and make her sparkling clean.

The transformation was amazing.

She had changed from a lump of coal to a beautiful young girl with hazel eyes and sparling white teeth that dazzled him when she smiled widely. Suddenly, her nakedness caused him to react in a way that he had not experienced for many years. He knew right away that he would have to confess it on Sunday, even though he had not done anything or said anything about his emotions. He knew the girl had seen his reaction, because it was hard to miss. Still, he did his best to conceal his arousal and told her to follow him to the closet for the dispensing of clean clothes.

On the spur of the moment, he suggested that she don the clothes of a young boy to include tight jeans, broad black belt and a leather jacket that emphasized the width of her shoulders and hid her feminine curves. She didn’t object, but he sensed she was inquisitive about his design in presenting her as a boy and not a girl. He asked her to sign the guest roster and watched her sign her name as “Roberta Rodriguiz” and put her age as 18. He let her watch him change the “A” on Roberto to an “O” and she nodded her head in agreement with the switch.

He led her to the alter boy’s recreation room and showed her the rest room with a pair of cots made up with blankets and pillows.

“This will be your spot for now. I think we will make you a Roberto and you can learn the ins and outs of being a good altar boy. How would you like that, Roberto?”