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.

Maureen was 15 when she became pregnant with the Messiah. She told me that she was pure and God had given her the child. My family didn’t think so. Grandmother said Maureen was a whore. Ma said maybe Maureen’s Pa or one of her older brothers put the baby there. Pa hadn’t an opinion on “woman matters.” Though I wanted to defend Maureen, I kept her secret.

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.