Chapter XIII: Blessings, Part 1
The day after the wedding is a quiet Sunday. The bells of the Hermosa Cathedral ring gently in the background as Meric and Ben load their final boxes into Rico's tricycle. They wave goodbye to Calle Gen. Antonio, where the RQ Store stands bustling as always, before heading toward their new home—an old house nestled in Brgy. Caluipat, Pardas.
The house, inherited from Rico's aunt Remedios Quadro, carries an eerie reputation. Some neighbors whisper that it's haunted.
"Careful," one man tells them as they unload. "They say a woman in white roams the kitchen at midnight."
Ben shrugs. "Then she better help with dishes."
Meric snorts. "Let's see if ghosts can handle laundry."
They enter the house, sunlight filtering through the old Capiz windows. Dust swirls in the air like tiny spirits welcoming them. Despite its age and creaky wooden planks, Meric feels a warmth. This place, haunted or not, is now their home.
In the afternoon, the newlyweds host a Palualo, a traditional prayer gathering. Friends, family, and neighbors fill the sala, murmuring prayers. The air smells of candles and devotion. After the blessings, they serve steaming bowls of Miki—thick noodles in savory broth. Laughter echoes through the house.
"This is not haunted," Meric says with a grin. "It's blessed."
The next day, the couple embarks on their honeymoon. They ride a Victory Liner bus north to Baguio, the summer capital. There, they sip strawberry taho in Burnham Park, shop for ukay-ukay along Session Road, and take goofy photos at Mines View. Ben buys Meric a knitted scarf and a sweater. "For the cold nights," he says, wrapping it around her.
"Even if it's summer?"
"Especially if I'm not there to hug you."
After nearly a week, they return to Hermosa, refreshed and deeply in love.
Back at the RQ Store, Mercy wipes sweat from her brow as the afternoon rush ends. She sits on a bench, fans herself with a pamaypay de abaniko, and glances at a photo of the whole family—Rico, Elric, Meric, and Jonn.
A memory surfaces.
Elric sits with an arm in a sling, recounting the night of his motorcycle accident.
"I was drunk from a gathering with my officemates at Cafe Leona. I didn't take the car, used the motorcycle," he says.
"But why, Nong?" Meric asks.
(Nong is a shortened term for 'Manong', which in Ilocano, it means Older Brother)
"I thought it would be faster. Wrong move. As I crossed Nagbingayan Bridge, I lost control. I flew like Superman—except less graceful."
He chuckles. "I was about to smash into the tanod outpost, but it's like something held me back."
"You mean... Manang Mary Jane?" Jonn whispers.
"Aywen nya, ni Jane! (Oh yeah, Jane!)", Mercy and Rico are in shock.
They all grow silent. Everyone remembers the eerie night in 1987, three days after Mary Jane's burial, when Rico's guitar strummed itself. Mercy had screamed, running out of the room.
"It was her," Mercy says softly. "Still watching over us."
Back in Caluipat, the couple eases into married life. Though jobless for now, they live on savings and earnings from selling Baguio Pranella and Gamosa Blankets. Each morning, they help at the RQ Store, then return home to prepare orders.
Meric folds a blanket. "Hey Ben, let's start a store here. We already have customers."
Ben nods. "And a name, Ma?"
"Hmm... How about... Bensmert. Ben and Meric."
So the Bensmert Sari-Sari Store is born—a humble corner store filled with sachets of shampoo, packs of pancit canton, bottles of RC Cola, and their signature Baguio finds. As they open, it's the very first store in Caluipat. They even offer Miki on Sundays.
Kids run up to the window. "Tita Meric, may Chocnut po ba?"
"Two pieces lang, ha?" she replies with a wink. Then, another one, "Manang Meric, is there Mountain Dew there?"
"Yes, would you like 12 ounce or 8 ounce?", Meric asks. "Just the 8 ounce, I might be acidic soon.", the customer replies.
"Well, you might wanna check your acidity.", Meric jokes.
The mornings at Brgy. Caluipat begin with the chirping of birds, the rustling of banana leaves, and the clink of bottles being restocked in the Bensmert Store. Ben yawns as he lifts a crate of soda bottles onto the counter, while Meric arranges packs of instant noodles on the shelf with impressive speed.
"Ma (short for mahal)," Ben groans, "did you stock the Piattos?"
Meric raises an eyebrow, half-asleep. "Ben, I am the Piattos."
Ben snickers. "Crunchy and salty?"
"Crunchy, spicy, and might slap you these Piattos packs if you don't start moving."
Their early days of marriage are filled with this kind of banter—light, playful, and sprinkled with loving eye-rolls. They keep the store open from sunrise till sunset, taking breaks only to cook meals, do laundry, and occasionally nap when no customers arrive.
By noon, kids from around the neighborhood drop by in slippers, waving coins.
"Manang Meric! Load for 10 pesos, please!"
"Okay, tell me your number, specify if what amount, and don't mess it up this time."
Sometimes, Ben handles the payment while Meric prepares the change. Sometimes, they reverse roles, but they're always in sync—like a duo dancing through the rhythm of married life.
As December rolls around, the couple prepares for something special.
Traditionally, every last week of December, the image of Ina Poonbato, or Apo Ina, visits Calle Gen. Antonio, staying at the RQ Store. But this year, Mercy surprises her daughter with a passing of the torch.
"I think it's time she visits your home instead," Mercy says one evening at dinner. "Let her bless the next chapter of our family."
Meric is touched. "Ma, are you sure?" Mercy nods. "Your house may be newer, but your love and faith—it's strong. Apo Ina will feel at home."
That last week of December, the streets of Caluipat echo with the footsteps of the devotees as the image of Apo Ina is brought to the Bensmert home. The house, once known for whispers of ghosts, is now lit up with candles, floral garlands, and songs of devotion.
Ben, wearing a freshly ironed polo, helps arrange the chairs outside. Meric prepares Miki in large kalderos, with the help of a few kumare and Marites from the barangay.
(For Non-Filipino speakers, Marites is a term referring to a gossiping lady, that can spread false information, or a wrong concept. This can be termed to nosey neighbors, picking up something to gossip about.)
"I thought you said you couldn't cook for a crowd," Ben teases as he watches her pour broth into bowls.
"Well, what can I say," Meric grins. "I'm a secret weapon."
Later that evening, as they sit quietly after the prayer gathering, Ben rests his head on Meric's lap.
"You know," he says, "I used to think ghosts haunted this place."
"And now?"
He closes his eyes. "Now I think it's haunted by blessings."
Meric chuckles. "Good. Because they're welcome to stay."
Though they now reside in Pardas, their hearts beat for Hermosa.
Every January 25, the Feast of Conversion of St. Paul and Hermosa City Day, they return to the city, walking side-by-side in the grand parade. Meric dons simple shirt, while Ben wears his checkered polo—simple but respectful.
During Semana Santa, they line up at the Cathedral, joining the penitents in prayer. Large antique and century-old images portraying Christ's passion are one of the highlights of the solemn commemoration. This is accompanied by the Leccio or Lectio (Pabasa in Tagalog), as old women sing it with emotion, and the old men would strum their guitar to the hum and hymn.
On May 3, for the Fiesta of Santo Cristo Milagroso, they never miss the blessing and the festivities that follow, especially at the concelebrated mass, that is presided by the Archbishop. It's because on that day, Sto. Cristo Milagroso brought from Sinai to Hermosa, or simply known as Apo Lakay had saved the city from pestilence and epidemic in the years 1756, and 1882. Even if it means closing the Bensmert Store for the day, they never fail to return to Hermosa.
"Ah, that's Meric, married to the Lamento boy. They're good people.", some people say.
Back in Caluipat, business continues.
Ben finds joy not only in the store but also in doing household chores.
"You're becoming a real househusband," Meric jokes.
"I'm just waiting for my own apron."
"You'll get it if you learn how to darn socks."
They even try a lot of Baguio blankets again. And stocks of cigarettes, canned foods, soft drinks, and candies. The items fly off the shelves, and soon, Ben jokes about expanding to a second floor.
"Hold on for a moment, Ben. One step at a time.", Meric jokes.
Evenings are spent on their porch, sipping hot coffee or RC Cola, depending on the mood. The view isn't glamorous—just the faint glow of tricycle headlights and occasional dogs howling—but to them, it's paradise.
One particular evening, as crickets sing and fireflies dart across the grass, Ben wraps his arm around Meric and says, "You know, if I hadn't come back... if I hadn't sent that letter..."
Meric finishes his sentence, "Then we wouldn't be here."
They smile in the silence.
Life isn't always easy. There are days when they earn less, or when the electric fan gives up on them during a hot afternoon. Sometimes the water supply slows, or the stock delivery from Baguio gets delayed due to landslides.
But even in those moments, they manage to laugh, to improvise, and to trust.
"We've survived more," Meric says once when their entire chichirya (chips) stock gets drenched in a leak. "We can survive this."
Ben, holding a soggy Piattos bag, sighs. "Rest in chips."
By the end of that year, the Bensmert Store becomes a familiar fixture in Caluipat. Children, teenagers, tricycle drivers, old ladies—they all know where to go for a cold drink, a kind smile, and the latest tsismis. Some customers even start calling Meric "Manang Meric," to which she replies with a slight grimace. "I feel like I'm forty." "You married young," says one neighbor. "You're ahead of your time." "I'm timeless," she says proudly. Ben rolls his eyes. "More like classic." And every December, without fail, the image of Ina Poonbato returns.
The house smells of incense and freshly boiled Miki. The floors are scrubbed spotless. The rosary echoes in unison.
One night, while the image rests in their home, Ben watches Meric kneel in silent prayer. He doesn't disturb her. Instead, he watches as the candlelight dances across her face.
In that moment, he realizes something deeper than all the hustle and jokes: They are not just selling snacks or building a business. They are building a life. A faith-filled, love-soaked life rooted in family, devotion, and perseverance.