Do you mean "sweet promises that she knew he would NOT keep"

I'm going to go back and revise slightly...

...and she is fixed.

No problem. Just seemed to fit the storyline better, that's all...

Hee hee hee...

She soon gained a reputation for being a little crazy. After all, what sane woman would fly into a rage and shriek blasphemous curses whenever she saw a plate of frijoles negros?

I really, really like this, Anne. I'm a sucker for stories with a strong framing narration anyway, and I like this one particularly.

After all, hadn't their mother traveled to El Norte with nothing more than an empty suitcase and two chickens because the Virgin had spoken to her from a plate of frijoles negros

BWAHAHAHAHA!

Anne, this is completely nifty.

purrs with delight at the nice comments

Here's a bit more. Right now it's more about the origins of Los Hermanos, but I'll get to the robot eventually.

But before this conversation could take place, several things had to happen. The first of these was on Easter Sunday, nearly four years after she had made the long, lonely voyage to a not-so-foreign land.

She was sitting in Mass, thankful that the sickness that had plagued her for the past few months seemed to be passing. When the priest said the benediction, she felt something leap within her. Surprised, and not a little frightened, she put her hand to her belly. Again, she felt the movement. A child? She was going to have a child?

As they sang an old Easter hymn, some of her carefully nurtured bitterness began to leave her heart.

Over the next few months, as the child grew within her, she started to notice that her belly was not the only thing that was changing. Places and people that were holy beckoned to her like a light, or the smells that came from her mother's kitchen. When she was in church, or in the presence of a truly good person, she felt at peace, and her baby slumbered within her.

On the other hand, she always knew when the vampiros were hunting because her baby was restless and kept poking her as if it wanted to burst out and fight. Also, she somehow seemed to know which people were out to trick her or who meant her harm. One day, when she was in the market, she passed an old woman who had a reputation of being a most spiteful bruja. The baby kicked so hard that she screamed and toppled to the ground.

Two days after that, the old woman was arrested for poisoning her husband.

Late in her pregnancy, sitting in bed as the doctor had ordered, she rested her hand on her belly and thought about this child of hers who seemed to have an understanding of good and evil.

"You have a fine, good spirit," she told her unborn child. It is a good thing to have a spirit--una alma--that is wise in the way of such things."

She named this first child Uno, since something--most likely the beans she had cooked the night before--told her that this was not the only son she would bear.

Anne, this is an incredible story so far. I like your take on the mama de los hermanos.

Reminds me of "The Milagro Beanfield War" which I loved muchly.

Thanks, y'all! I'm deliberately trying for a sort of fairy-tale, magical realism thing, and I'm glad it's working. I should have more up in a little bit.

Yet more about Los Hermanos...

The next year, around Pentecost, she realized that she was pregnant once again.

While her first pregnancy had made her sensitive to the world of the spirit, her second one changed her in other ways. As she listened to the tales she heard at the market and at work, she began to realize that the vampiros and other spirits who hunted and haunted them had their own rules they had to obey. Perhaps, she thought, those rules could be used against the dark creatures. She went to Padre Dominguez and asked to borrow some of his books--the ones that were rumored to be kept locked up behind a secret panel in the vestry. He was reluctant at first, telling her that these were not suitable things for women to know, especially women who were with child.

And what did she do, to make this priest change his mind? Let us just say that the determination of a woman who carried two chickens all the way from Mexico City should never be underestimated. When she was done with him, the priest never talked down to her again. Some even said that Padre Dominguez often went to her for advice when he had to perform an especially difficult exorcism.

A few even said that the old priest would make the sign of the cross and scurry to the other side of the street whenever he encountered her in town, but they never foolish enough to say this where she might overhear them.

At first, her husband scoffed when he saw her reading, especially when she had to use a dictionary to puzzle out words in other languages.

"Why do you waste your time with these books?" he demanded. "They don't help put food in the table or keep clothes on our backs!"

When he said these things, she would merely look up over the edge of whatever book she was reading and smile.

They weren't very nice smiles. They were the sort of smiles that reminded him of the strange woman who had befriended some of the sorrier women in their part of town. These women had husbands who were cruel or unfaithful, and who seemed proud of their cruelty and bragged out loud about all of the young women they had ruined. It didn't take long for the pride to be crushed and the boasting to be silenced.

Whenever her husband thought of those men, he crossed himself, and begged the good Lord for forgiveness for anything he might have done to upset his wife. By the time those wretched men had been buried, he had learned things about vengeance demons that could not be found in the pages of any book.

Then, once he realized that these "useless" books had taught his wife to create charms and milagros that actually worked--and that people would pay good money for--he even gave his wife some money to buy a particularly rare book that she said she needed.

One night, as she was reading about a spell that would bring back those who had been killed by magical means, she rested her hand on her belly and thought about the child growing within.

"You have a quick, brilliant mind--una mente--that will serve you and your brother well. He may be wise, but he and your brothers who are yet to be born will need your cleverness, mi hijo."

She could say this with confidence, because the other day a pool of red candle-wax had told her that this was by no means her last child.

When the child was born, her husband wanded to name him Baldomero, but she insisted that he be named Dos. Her husband knew what was good for him and gave in to her wishes.

The following year, just two days after Christmas, she found herself expecting her third child. Her husband complained bitterly about how he could not afford to feed three children, especially now that she no longer worked at the laundry. While the charms she sold were a help, they were barely enough to help them squeak by.

"What do you want me to do?" she demanded. "Should I sell our children, our fine, strong sons?" She could stand up to him now, despite his bluster, because she had learned during her first pregnancy that her husband was at heart a good man. "If I have to, I will do washing here to bring in money."

So that is what she did. For some reason, this pregnancy did not weaken or tire her, and she scrubbed with the vigor of three younger women, and it was as if the hot water and harsh soap didn't bother her hands in the least. At the same time, she also discovered a strange gift for mending, and could darn tears and patch holes so that the cloth looked as if it had just been woven. She also noticed that the charms she crafted were of a finer quality than she had ever managed before. While she was tired at the end of each day, she was not worn out, and the extra money that came in did much to ease her worries.

All the while, the child in her belly flipped, skipped, and hopped like the magical beans that were sold to amuse children.

She wondered how on earth one child could be so active. Then, one day, she felt identical kicks on opposite sides of her belly. Twins? She was carrying twins?

Roja and Blanca, the two chickens she had carried with her from Mexico City and who between them still laid five eggs a day, confirmed that this was in fact so.

"Such fine, strong, active sons," she crooned. There was very little bitterness left in her heart. When she was in a dark mood, she often wondered if she would ever realize the great destiny that had been promised to her, but for the most part she was happy enough with her sons and with a husband who had stopped drinking and who now treated her like a queen. "All of my boys will be big and strong, but you two will be the strongest and most nimble of all. You will be like two steady hands--dos manos--who will help your brothers to be the strongest, most able men they can be."

The twins were of course named Tres and Quatro. She had been more than blessed, but a flight of sparrows at noontime told her that she would be blessed once more.