Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.

When a migrant goes into labor in a lettuce field, her horrendous life changes in a miracles when her boss provides her with medical care and a place to live. As she struggles to deal with her life of poverty in a new life filled with luxury, she learns a lesson of God’s abundant love and promises and the field owner learns that love has no bounds when God is in charge.

Chapter 1 Excerpt

Felisa Carrillo’s pain surged down her lower back into her belly. She doubled over in agony while the hot California sun beat across her back. She took deep breaths, controlling the spasms that weakened her knees, and she struggled against falling to the lettuce field as the wave of pain raked through her.

"¿Estás bien?"

Her coworker’s voice wrapped around her, but she couldn’t answer. No, she wasn’t okay, although Maria’s tone already alerted Felisa that she knew the answer to her question.

Maria boosted herself from her haunches, dropped the head of lettuce into the basket, and darted to her side. "¿El bebé está naciendo?"

When the pain subsided, Felisa lifted her head. "Yes, the baby is coming," she said in Spanish. She looked down the green, even rows to find a place to escape, but instead, her breath left her when she saw a man striding her way. The boss. The owner. She recognized him from other visits to his fields.

"Déjeme ayudarte," Maria said, offering to help her. She slid her arm around Felisa’s shoulder, trying to support her.

"El jefe. El dueño." Panic filled her as Felisa motioned toward the owner, alerting Maria of his presence as she tried to pull away. "Maria, you must get back to work," she whispered in Spanish.

"No." Maria’s voice snapped with determination.

Felisa slipped from her arms and knelt beside the lettuce, gesturing for her to leave.

Maria finally moved away and crouched farther down the row while Felisa struggled to focus on a plant to avoid drawing the owner’s attention. The earthy scent of sun-heated soil and foliage swept over her, causing her stomach to churn. She couldn’t get sick now.

As she reached for a lettuce head, another contraction stabbed her. Panic filled her as the man moved closer. She couldn’t afford to lose her job, and she sent up a prayer that God help her bear the pain until he passed. She puffed to control the twisting anguish that seared inside her as the man’s shadow fell across her and stopped.

"Are you ill?" His raspy voice hovered above her. "¿Está usted enferma?" he repeated.

She didn’t look up but only shook her head.

He didn’t move.

Tears ballooned in her eyes and escaped to her cheeks. She knew the droplets would leave a telltale trail on her dusty skin. She tried to brush them away, but she felt the sticky grime against her fist.

The man lowered his hand and tilted her face upward into the glaring sun. She flinched with his touch and closed her eyes to the brightness, but when she opened them, she saw only concern in his eyes. His gaze left her face and lowered to her bulging belly she’d tried to camouflaged by an oversized shirt. "Pregnant," he muttered, then lifted his gaze to her. "¿Está usted embarazada?"

She tugged at her top to cover her belly and ignored his question, but she felt her face go pale.

"You’re in labor." His voice sounded disbelieving, and he bent over her as frustration rattled in his throat. He straightened and scanned the field. "Husband?," he muttered before he turned to her again. ¿Dónde está su esposo?"

Felisa’s throat knotted. "Dead." And good riddance, she added, then immediately became ashamed of her thought, but she knew God understood.

"You speak English." Relief filled his face.

"Yes"

"You’re husband is dead?"

Felisa gave a fleeting nod. "Killed."

She watched his head swivel as he studied the field as if looking for a body. Finally he turned back to her as if satisfied. "When? What happened?"

She winced, remembering the day she saw Miguel’s mangled body. Though she knew s English, under stress, she struggled to remember the words. "Ocho— eight months ago. Accidente—an accident," she corrected. Miguel had been drunk as always, but that day he was dead drunk. Coming out of a barroom, he staggered into the street and was hit by a car. The police called it an accident. She called it freedom.

The man shook his head and drew out a handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from his face. "Do you have family in Salinas?"

"No," she said, feeling another contraction grip her. She coiled into a ball.

"No family."

She heard the irritation in his voice.

"You’re not having a baby in this field," he said, his voice deepening with emotion. "I’ll take you to the hospital."

"No, please," she said, fearing a hospital bill. She barely had enough for food.

"The Natividad Medical Center. It’s a hospital. You’re not staying here," he said, sounding determined and hitting numbers on his cell phone. "Can you walk?"

He turned his attention to the phone call while she let the last of the pain fade. Could she walk? Determination charged through her. She would. She had to.

The man disconnected, then reached toward her.

"I can walk," she said, pushing her hand against the pungent earth to hoist herself. As she rose, her legs buckled, and he grasped her arm, lifting her to her feet and supporting her along the lettuce rows.

"My truck is this way." He motioned toward the distance.

Felisa felt her knees buckle, and she stumbled forward. The man scooped her into his arms and carried her, his urgency obvious. His strength gave her a sense of security, and she drew in the smell of the heat radiating from his skin, a clean aroma so different from the workers in the field. His fresh scent mingled with the tangy fragrance of his aftershave.

"Do you think you can make it?," he asked. "By the time I get an ambulance here, we can probably be there. " He boosted her more securely against his body.

A wave of pain bore down on her, and she struggled until she could speak. "I’ll make it." Yet her voice sounded breathless and insecure. She recoiled with anger at her stupid response. She had no idea if she could make it. What if he had to deliver the baby?