The beef sizzled as María seared it in her hot dutch oven. The bottom of the pot soon turned to a rich golden brown, and as a delicious scent of seared steak rose into the air, María hummed to music that had come from the library of appropriately themed music. She glanced through the lace curtains of the living room as a car rushed by, its engine making an obnoxious noise, and turned back to her father's recipe for safe beef bourguignon with a shake of the head and a disapproving sigh. María took a pair of tongs from an open and half-packed box and took the squares of beef off the heat, placing them on a plate to the side of the stove. In the remaining oil and beef fat, onions and carrots were sauteed, with a healthy spoonful of minced garlic near the end. María glanced at the recipe again, noted the crossed-out cognac and red wine, then tossed in the herbs and poured in the stock before setting the lid down. The timer made a strange clicking noise as María wound it up to an hour and she set it down on the counter before heading to the living room.
The walls were bare and the corded burgundy phone that hung on the wall between the living room and kitchen was looking out of place in that emptiness. Boxes were stacked and standing in piles against the walls which were a strange sort of beige colour that looked both plain and dirty at the same time. The previous owners of the house had insisted they'd scrubbed them clean, but María was a little sceptical and scrubbed them a little with soapy water to confirm it. She then searched for the boxes labelled with the words kitchen and dishware, and then set them on the kitchen table. As the stew bubbled away, María unpacked the boxes and set everything in their new places of residence, although, she tried her best to keep the layout as close to the previous one as possible, since she expected her father to get mad if his coffee mugs and silverware weren't in the right place. He was funny that way—everything had to be done just right.
When the timer rang, María wound it up for another hour and continued her unpacking. Dishcloths and aprons were folded and then gently placed into their respective drawers. The near-empty boxes were put on the ground so María could dress the dining table in a checkered white and blue tablecloth. The tea and coffee containers were arranged so her father would have better access to the coffee. A small statue of the Virgin Mary was placed on the window sill above the sink. María made the sign of the cross before it without thinking and she turned to look at the timer, noted the half-hour remaining, and then hummed her way outside to toss the empty boxes into the recycling bins on the side of the house.
María was startled when she heard a branch snap in the distance. Hawkins had far more wildlife and wilderness than she was used to, and even the sound of a deer stepping on a branch startled her. María was used to the sounds of Nashville: the cars, the timeless country music, the sinning going on inside bars late at night. It would take some getting used to, but María knew she would grow to love Hawkins. It reminded her of when she used to live in that Texas border town in elementary school. Everyone knew each other by name, the school was a stone's throw from the church, and José's local diner was the breakfast, lunch and dinner spot for the two hundred people living in that town. Sometimes, María missed living there. It was hot and sticky, and there wasn't much to do other than go to church and the local park, but she missed hearing her name with its proper accent, and she hated the new last name her father had chosen for them—"Maria Brown" was so unoriginal. But she understood that it had to be done. People had called her father a fraud back in that border town, but he really could heal the sick, and it was a shame that their lack of faith had forced them to move to Nashville.
The timer buzzed again. María took out a fork and poked at one of the meat cubes. Satisfied with its tenderness, she turned off the stovetop and pulled the dutch oven off the heat. As she let it cool and settle for a few minutes, María set the table for one, complete with cutlery in all the right places, a heat pad in the centre of the table, a bowl for warm fluffy bread rolls, and two glasses—one for water and the other for sweet tea. She sighed as she sat down, glancing at the seat where her father should be sitting. It was strange eating without him. She was so used to making meals for them every day, doing laundry for two people, hearing him recite the prayers before and after dinner, and making him his chamomile tea before bed. However, John's new job took up most of his time and presence. Since they had officially moved to Hawkins a few weeks ago, María had seen her father for no more than three days, and she knew that he wouldn't be back to accompany her on her first day at Hawkins High School tomorrow. Likely, she'd only see him when November rolled around and his pre-recorded and live appearances would be over for the year. However, María quickly put a smile back on her face. Her father was out doing the lord's work, spreading the message of God to the masses, and if she turned on the television to the right channel tomorrow morning, she could hear and see him as she used to in church.
With her dinner over, María cleared the table and put what would be leftovers for the next week or so in an old Tupperware. She placed the container in the neatly organised kitchen and readjusted the sweet tea and milk jugs so that they were perfectly lined up. María then quickly washed the dishes and set them to dry in the rack beside the sink, then made the sign of the cross again as her eyes glided over the Virgin Mary. María made sure the back door was locked and shut the lights on her way to the front door to lock it as well, turning the knob a few times to make sure that it had taken. Satisfied, María turned on her heels and headed up the stairs, glancing at the picture frames on the wall and the pictures encased within them. María smiled at herself and her father standing beside each other. They always seemed a little stiff, hands behind their backs and straight smiles on their lips, but María loved the photographs nonetheless.
María turned on the light as she entered her bathroom. She wiggled her toes through the fibres of her maroon bath mat and looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, inspecting the dark circles under her green eyes. María gave them a disapproving look then put her hair back so she could wash her face unobstructed. After patting it dry and brushing her teeth, María headed to her room and took a seat at her vanity. She listened to the gentle clattering of her gold and diamond jewellery as she took her necklace, earrings and rings off and dropped them into a frosted crystal bowl.
A small ton of pins were piled next to them as María undid her hair, letting her straight brown locks fall past her shoulders. She pulled a face at her reddening roots and returned to the bathroom, running her fingers through her hair to up the hairspray and massage the tightness from her scalp. María pulled out some touch-up hair dye and applied it to her roots, hoping that a quick twenty-minute soak would get rid of the hair colour John said wasn't becoming of her. As she waited, María returned to her room, unbuttoning her cardigan, and hung it on the back of her door. She rose her neck a little to unbutton the blouse she'd tied up all the way and smoothed it out to hang it back in her closet alongside her skirt. María then slipped into a nightgown, avoiding her wet roots, and then returned to the bathroom to rinse out the dye—thankfully, her hair had returned to the brown she'd known for over ten years.
María tossed a towel onto her pillow, hoping it'd keep whatever residual dye in her hair off her pillowcase, then knelt at the edge of her bed. She reached into her bedside table and pulled out her battered Bible, laying her hands on top of it and closing her eyes.
"Bless my father and his congregation, Lord, with joy and peace. Teach them to love Your Word and find delight in serving You. Guide them and give them the strength and courage to live a life of generosity and justice and compassion. Make their heart steadfast and secure, free of fear and trusting only in You. I pray for my father and his congregation in the name of Jesus, that they would see their need of You and know Your love for them. In Jesus' name, I pray. Amen."
María made the sign of the cross one final time, put her Bible on top of her bedside table, and then climbed into bed. She turned off the lamp and lay on her back then pulled the blankets over her chest, smoothing them out until there wasn't a wrinkle to be found. With a contented sigh, María closed her eyes and, within minutes, sleep claimed her.
For the sake of clarity, all instances of "María" within dialogue will be written as "Maria" to reflect the pronunciation.