persisted, “How?”
Luisa wiped her eyes. “He went swimming in the spring when the water was angry.”
“He drowned?”
She nodded.
Terrance had the grace to look sad, to feel bad. He poked his potatoes with his fork. “I suppose you miss him.”
Luisa looked at him. “I miss him very much, but I thank God for every day I had with him, and I know when my time comes, I will see him in heaven again.”
“You think he went to heaven?”
“I think all boys go to heaven. All children go to heaven.”
“My pa says Ma’s in heaven.” He clearly wanted confirmation.
“I’m sure she is.”
He poked his food again and looked up from under his lashes. He had very thick lashes for a boy, but his cheeks were too angular and too sharp and his chin too pointed to look angelic. He was all angles, all sadness and doubt, which only made Petunia want to give him hope. “I hope so.”
“I didn’t know your mother but I can see her in you.”
“If you never met her,” he scoffed, “how can you see her?”
It was Luisa who answered. “Because I’ve seen your father but there are parts of you that look nothing like him, so it has to be your mother showing. I’m told she was a very smart, sweet woman, and I’m sure like my Marcos, she sits in heaven watching over you.”
He poked the food harder and muttered, “She hasn’t done a very good job.”
“What makes you say that?” Petunia asked, hoping for a clue, something to grab a hold of on this boy who was so withdrawn into himself. Whose only outlet was learning.
Again it was Luisa who answered. “Because she sent you Mr. Parker and Miss Wayfield.”
He didn’t glance up. “She could have sent them sooner.”
Luisa grimaced. “Maybe time is different up there, or maybe she had to wait her turn, but she sent them. On this you should focus.”
“I really don’t have to go back?”
The question was directed at Petunia. If she hadn’t told Ace she’d take Terrance before, she would have in that moment. “No, you don’t have to go back.”
He cut a piece of meat aggressively. And again. And again, and again until it lay in his plate in bites almost too small to chew.
“My father won’t like that. He likes to have me around.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“He’ll come for me.”
She figured as much. “If he does, then we’ll talk to him and see what happens.”
“My pa isn’t big on talking.”
She smiled and ruffled his hair. “Well, we’re safe, then, because I can talk enough for four people.”
“That’s what Mr. Parker said. Said you got a mouth enough for three women.”
“Did he now?” Within earshot of a child, no less. Petunia would be having a word with him about that.
“He didn’t say it in a bad way. He likes you.”
Out of the mouths of babes. Her fantasies garnered hope.
Luisa’s husband, Antonio, came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. He was a big man, overweight in a way that spoke of contentment.
Robust
maybe was a better description. He had dark eyes, slight bags beneath; five o’clock shadow showed on his cheeks, but he had a smile that always lit up anyone’s day. He put his arm around Luisa’s shoulders.
“The women, they are treating you right?” he asked Terrance.
Terrance cringed into himself, pulling in his shoulders tight, clearly nervous around the big man. His nod was barely discernible.
“Good. Good.” Antonio asked, “If you are done with this meal, I have for you a dessert I made special.”
That got the boy to look up. “I was going to have apple pie.”
“You can have apple pie,” Antonio chuckled, “but this, this dessert I made just for you.”
Terrance blinked. “Never met a man who cooked before.”
“You like to eat?”
He nodded.
“Then you must learn to cook. It’s not good for a man to be dependent on a woman for everything. It is also good for a man to be able to treat his wife now and then.”
Terrance just stared at him, clearly not
Luisa wiped her eyes. “He went swimming in the spring when the water was angry.”
“He drowned?”
She nodded.
Terrance had the grace to look sad, to feel bad. He poked his potatoes with his fork. “I suppose you miss him.”
Luisa looked at him. “I miss him very much, but I thank God for every day I had with him, and I know when my time comes, I will see him in heaven again.”
“You think he went to heaven?”
“I think all boys go to heaven. All children go to heaven.”
“My pa says Ma’s in heaven.” He clearly wanted confirmation.
“I’m sure she is.”
He poked his food again and looked up from under his lashes. He had very thick lashes for a boy, but his cheeks were too angular and too sharp and his chin too pointed to look angelic. He was all angles, all sadness and doubt, which only made Petunia want to give him hope. “I hope so.”
“I didn’t know your mother but I can see her in you.”
“If you never met her,” he scoffed, “how can you see her?”
It was Luisa who answered. “Because I’ve seen your father but there are parts of you that look nothing like him, so it has to be your mother showing. I’m told she was a very smart, sweet woman, and I’m sure like my Marcos, she sits in heaven watching over you.”
He poked the food harder and muttered, “She hasn’t done a very good job.”
“What makes you say that?” Petunia asked, hoping for a clue, something to grab a hold of on this boy who was so withdrawn into himself. Whose only outlet was learning.
Again it was Luisa who answered. “Because she sent you Mr. Parker and Miss Wayfield.”
He didn’t glance up. “She could have sent them sooner.”
Luisa grimaced. “Maybe time is different up there, or maybe she had to wait her turn, but she sent them. On this you should focus.”
“I really don’t have to go back?”
The question was directed at Petunia. If she hadn’t told Ace she’d take Terrance before, she would have in that moment. “No, you don’t have to go back.”
He cut a piece of meat aggressively. And again. And again, and again until it lay in his plate in bites almost too small to chew.
“My father won’t like that. He likes to have me around.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“He’ll come for me.”
She figured as much. “If he does, then we’ll talk to him and see what happens.”
“My pa isn’t big on talking.”
She smiled and ruffled his hair. “Well, we’re safe, then, because I can talk enough for four people.”
“That’s what Mr. Parker said. Said you got a mouth enough for three women.”
“Did he now?” Within earshot of a child, no less. Petunia would be having a word with him about that.
“He didn’t say it in a bad way. He likes you.”
Out of the mouths of babes. Her fantasies garnered hope.
Luisa’s husband, Antonio, came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. He was a big man, overweight in a way that spoke of contentment.
Robust
maybe was a better description. He had dark eyes, slight bags beneath; five o’clock shadow showed on his cheeks, but he had a smile that always lit up anyone’s day. He put his arm around Luisa’s shoulders.
“The women, they are treating you right?” he asked Terrance.
Terrance cringed into himself, pulling in his shoulders tight, clearly nervous around the big man. His nod was barely discernible.
“Good. Good.” Antonio asked, “If you are done with this meal, I have for you a dessert I made special.”
That got the boy to look up. “I was going to have apple pie.”
“You can have apple pie,” Antonio chuckled, “but this, this dessert I made just for you.”
Terrance blinked. “Never met a man who cooked before.”
“You like to eat?”
He nodded.
“Then you must learn to cook. It’s not good for a man to be dependent on a woman for everything. It is also good for a man to be able to treat his wife now and then.”
Terrance just stared at him, clearly not
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