The wind didn’t whistle the night Maureen Temple gave birth to the Messiah, it screamed. This was just as well, because it masked Maureen’s own screams.

I was 8 years old and had never seen a pregnant woman before I saw Maureen Temple. I’d seen Pa’s best cow, Old Bess, with calf, but never a human woman.

I remember going over to Maureen’s house with Ma. Maureen greeted us at the door. She wasn’t far along, but her swollen belly was prominent on her slender frame. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Ma squeezed my shoulder disapprovingly and I shifted my eyes to the ground. She asked Maureen where her Pa was. Maureen pointed to the back yard and Ma told me to stay put.

“It’s alright to look. I guess it’s no secret. Come over here,” Maureen said. She placed my hand on her stomach and smiled. My eyes widened in awe.

“Can you keep a secret? You know about our Lord Jesus Christ, right” she asked. I nodded. “Well, this child is of God. He will be the next Messiah. An angel came to me in a dream and told me.”

I smiled.

I spent my summer with Maureen. She said she liked practicing being a ma with me. Her own had passed when she was 5 and she hadn’t been around children since. She told me stories and gently chided me when needed. I adored her. Everyday her stomach grew. Near the end of her pregnancy she had a black eye.

“Pa says I’m a disgrace. No one will want me because I’m not pure. I tried to tell him about the angel, but…” Then Maureen began to cry. I sat with her in silence. She wiped her tears and told me that the Messiah would be here soon. Come to her barn in three nights.

I snuck out the night of the storm and found Maureen squatting and moaning. Her skirts were already bloodied. I thought of Bess. I assisted her as she labored.

“My God, why have you forsaken me?” She cried.

After a few hours, the Messiah emerged. I bundled him in a blanket and handed him to Maureen.

“You will change the world,” she whispered to the bundle. Then, like Bess, Maureen Temple closed her eyes and didn’t open them again.

I took the wailing child and started home. Maureen was wrong. This was not the Messiah. He was just a plain baby. The Messiah would not kill his own mother. I stopped by the river and dropped the demon into the rushing water.