Silvia was the one he came to Portugal for. Is that what you want to hear? Well, she said
no
… and I said yes.”
Georgina knew very little about Manuel, other than that he was twenty-six and he looked forward to sharing a life in Canada. They weren’t allowed to spend time together. She could only lean out the window as Manuel stood outside, his two feet planted firmly on the dirt road. That was just the way things were.
“That’s the way they still are,” Carmen added. The women laughed.
“I thought that what
was
there could grow.” Georgina contemplated her words lazily. The women all nodded in agreement; Carmen even sighed.
Terezinha cupped her mouth with her hand to stop herself from giggling. All this talk of romance andmarriage was too much for her. Luckily, Senhora Genevieve’s small dog came yelping into the square, chasing after the hens. Terezinha saw it as a necessary diversion and ran after it—
tormenting things smaller than her is her specialty
, Antonio thought. Antonio stayed still, hopeful that his mother had forgotten he was sitting on her lap, breathing in her smell of Skin-So-Soft; she had purchased the whole line from the Avon catalogue.
Georgina said that Manuel’s offer of marriage had been an ongoing topic of conversation for the better part of the week. It was his mother’s duty to propose on his behalf, and she had done so grudgingly.
“‘As you know, my son Manuel has chosen a different path,’” Aunt Louisa mocked. “I have heard, Maria,” had been Grandmother Theresa’s response. Grandmother Maria had held up her hand. This was something she
had
to do and it would be done as duty dictated.
“‘He has now chosen your daughter.’” Aunt Louisa could still mimic the bitterness in her voice. “‘One can only hope that your daughter is … a virgin.’”
The two women, Maria and Theresa, had been friends since childhood. Their words were few, but even back then Georgina had sensed they could read each other with an acuteness usually reserved for siblings.
“My mother was furious,” Georgina said. “‘That woman … she floats up to my front door in her black dress, saying,
You should be happy my Manuel has chosen your daughter.
’
“‘Stop
Mãe
, please,’ I had pleaded.
“‘
One would hope she’s a virgin, Theresa.
The nerve of that woman.’”
Grandmother Theresa had wiped the spittle from her lips, stepped back and sat on the wooden chair by the bedroom window. She had reached back, slid her black kerchief from her head and brought her graying hair up over her shoulder. She had begun to braid slowly as she gazed out the front window.
“‘She doesn’t want this to happen. She’ll make it a hell for you.’
“‘I’ll be far away from her,
Mãe
, in Canada.’
“‘She is a presence that will cross the oceans to Terra Nova. Mark my words. I know her. She has spoken of nothing else these last two years while her Manuel was away in Canada: Silvia, the heiress to forty head of cattle …
my Silvia, so
delicata,
will make him come home—will make a life for him here full of
fortuna.
I lost him once, I won’t lose him again.
’
“I knelt before my mother and looked up at her fragile neck. ‘I need to get away,
Mãe.
This is my chance.’ I looked out my window toward the church of
Nossa Senhora do Rosário.
My mother continued braiding her hair and mumbling her prayers. Soon, she would knot the few strands that remained at the tip tightly to keep her braid in place. My hand rested on the windowsill and I’ll always remember the heat of my mother’s hand when she placed it over mine.”
Antonio watched the dogs that lay carelessly in the middle of the road. Some had matted clumps or patches of fur peeling from their skin. Every so often, one would lift its head and lamely attempt to snap its crooked jowl at a fly before laying its head back down on the parched earth.
Antonio’s mother looked down at him. She kissed his nose, drew him in
no
… and I said yes.”
Georgina knew very little about Manuel, other than that he was twenty-six and he looked forward to sharing a life in Canada. They weren’t allowed to spend time together. She could only lean out the window as Manuel stood outside, his two feet planted firmly on the dirt road. That was just the way things were.
“That’s the way they still are,” Carmen added. The women laughed.
“I thought that what
was
there could grow.” Georgina contemplated her words lazily. The women all nodded in agreement; Carmen even sighed.
Terezinha cupped her mouth with her hand to stop herself from giggling. All this talk of romance andmarriage was too much for her. Luckily, Senhora Genevieve’s small dog came yelping into the square, chasing after the hens. Terezinha saw it as a necessary diversion and ran after it—
tormenting things smaller than her is her specialty
, Antonio thought. Antonio stayed still, hopeful that his mother had forgotten he was sitting on her lap, breathing in her smell of Skin-So-Soft; she had purchased the whole line from the Avon catalogue.
Georgina said that Manuel’s offer of marriage had been an ongoing topic of conversation for the better part of the week. It was his mother’s duty to propose on his behalf, and she had done so grudgingly.
“‘As you know, my son Manuel has chosen a different path,’” Aunt Louisa mocked. “I have heard, Maria,” had been Grandmother Theresa’s response. Grandmother Maria had held up her hand. This was something she
had
to do and it would be done as duty dictated.
“‘He has now chosen your daughter.’” Aunt Louisa could still mimic the bitterness in her voice. “‘One can only hope that your daughter is … a virgin.’”
The two women, Maria and Theresa, had been friends since childhood. Their words were few, but even back then Georgina had sensed they could read each other with an acuteness usually reserved for siblings.
“My mother was furious,” Georgina said. “‘That woman … she floats up to my front door in her black dress, saying,
You should be happy my Manuel has chosen your daughter.
’
“‘Stop
Mãe
, please,’ I had pleaded.
“‘
One would hope she’s a virgin, Theresa.
The nerve of that woman.’”
Grandmother Theresa had wiped the spittle from her lips, stepped back and sat on the wooden chair by the bedroom window. She had reached back, slid her black kerchief from her head and brought her graying hair up over her shoulder. She had begun to braid slowly as she gazed out the front window.
“‘She doesn’t want this to happen. She’ll make it a hell for you.’
“‘I’ll be far away from her,
Mãe
, in Canada.’
“‘She is a presence that will cross the oceans to Terra Nova. Mark my words. I know her. She has spoken of nothing else these last two years while her Manuel was away in Canada: Silvia, the heiress to forty head of cattle …
my Silvia, so
delicata,
will make him come home—will make a life for him here full of
fortuna.
I lost him once, I won’t lose him again.
’
“I knelt before my mother and looked up at her fragile neck. ‘I need to get away,
Mãe.
This is my chance.’ I looked out my window toward the church of
Nossa Senhora do Rosário.
My mother continued braiding her hair and mumbling her prayers. Soon, she would knot the few strands that remained at the tip tightly to keep her braid in place. My hand rested on the windowsill and I’ll always remember the heat of my mother’s hand when she placed it over mine.”
Antonio watched the dogs that lay carelessly in the middle of the road. Some had matted clumps or patches of fur peeling from their skin. Every so often, one would lift its head and lamely attempt to snap its crooked jowl at a fly before laying its head back down on the parched earth.
Antonio’s mother looked down at him. She kissed his nose, drew him in
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