Rich in Love: When God Rescues Messy People Read Free

and I were giggling and talking as we walked around the Northridge Junior High School campus. It was a new school year, and we were both excited about being in junior high for the first time. As we rounded a corner so I could take a drink from the fountain, I saw the new Mexican boy everyone was talking about. I couldn’t believe it—he was smoking a cigarette on campus! I thought he was so fearless and good-looking. Then, with all the sureness in the world, I turned to my friend and announced, “I’m going to marry him.”
    My friend just rolled her eyes. I watched him laughing and goofing around with the other guys. Sure, he was cute, but there was something more. He was cocky. Confident.
    When we were introduced, he didn’t say much—in fact, he ignored me. Then later he asked if I wanted to meet him at the skating rink. I was so excited, but I had to babysit. When I got to the skating rink late, I found him making out with my friend. I knew right away I was in over my head, but for whatever reason, I continued to like him and wanted him to notice me.
    I was so surprised the first time Domingo called. As my heart pounded, we had some sort of simple conversation. It didn’t matter what we said. I was hooked. He started calling me frequently, and we hung out together in school. One time when he walked me home from school, we saw my mom. We ducked into the bushes, afraid and laughing at the same time. And then he kissed me. My first real kiss. I thought it was wonderful, and from that moment, Domingo had my heart. I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could. I thought it was true love. But when my father, who was so strict he wouldn’t allow me to talk to boys, found out I liked Domingo, he told me I couldn’t date or have him over until I was fifteen. But his command didn’t stop me from seeing Domingo at school and the skating rink.
    When my fifteenth birthday came close, I could hardly wait. Domingo and I could stop sneaking around! But when I turned fifteen, my dad said he had changed his mind. I fought and argued with him. I yelled at him. And then I shrieked, “I hate you!” and ran to my room, slammed the door, and cried. I was crying because I couldn’t have Domingo over. But I was also devastated because my dad, my hero, had lied to me.
    What I didn’t understand was that my dad knew what kind of boy Domingo was—he reminded my father of himself at that age. Like most young teen girls, I had blinders on. I could see Domingo only as the boy of my dreams, while my father was trying to do his job as a father and protect me.
    My father began to keep a close eye on me. That meant that, in order to see Domingo, I had to lie about everything. It meant cutting school and going to Domingo’s house. It meant my sister Billie taking us with her when she went places. It meant telling my mom I was babysitting when, in reality, the only person I was “babysitting” was Domingo. To make the whole thing believable, Domingo gave me the money I would have earned had I really babysat. I didn’t care that I had become so deceitful. Domingo had become my whole world. He was popular in school, I was his girlfriend, and nothing else mattered.
    A determined spirit is one of Domingo’s strongest character qualities. How he did all he did, I will never know. He was such a hard worker. At fifteen he went to school until noon, then worked at his brother-in-law’s auto shop until after midnight—and he was great at it. He could work on any engine and understood them so well he could modify them to make them better and faster. After work he sometimes hung around with the guys and drank beer, then went home. Several nights a week he’d walk the two and a half miles to my house and rap on my window. I’d let him in, and we’d whisper quietly in my room until my father got home around two. Then Domingo would slip out through the window and walk home.
    When we were alone, in the dark of our whispers, Domingo shared his