tree. How could this man be a soldier who murdered people and tore apart families? It didn't make sense.
After the tree was garnished, Anna called for Emmaline to take her daily nap.
"Mama, can I please stay up and watch the tree a while longer?" The little girl turned those pleading blue eyes on her mother. How in the world could Anna say no? But one look at her friend showed a resolute expression that wouldn't allow her mind to be changed.
Alejandra stepped forward and scooped up Emmaline's hand. "Come, niña. I'll tell you a story about my favorite Navidad before you go to sleep?"
Emmaline gripped Alejandra's hand with her soft chubby one as they left the room and headed up the stairs. The trust in that action started a longing in Alejandra's chest. How wonderful it was to have a child to love.
~ ~ ~
Alejandra settled back in her chair and eyed the activity as their big Christmas meal dwindled to a close. It looked to have been a success, if the empty plates and dishes strewn across the mahogany wood surface was any indication. The food had been a challenge, for sure. The tamales and roasted turkey were familiar, but Anna also taught her how to make mashed potatoes, and a thick gray substance she called gravy. And then there was the apple pie, with a filling not unlike a sweet tamale, but the outside was so different from the corn batter. But, oh, she could still taste the amazing flavor on her tongue.
At least a few of the vaqueros seemed to like it, too. As she watched, Miguel reached for the pie tin that had only a single piece left. But Donato was too quick for him, grabbing the pan and almost dumping the sweet onto his plate.
"Hey." Miguel frowned, like a child who'd had his favorite toy taken away. Then a glimmer touched his eye, and he reached to scoop a forkful of pie from Donato's plate.
Donato elbowed him soundly in the side. But as the men loaded the sweet treat into their mouths, the friendly dispute ended as looks of pleasure came over both of their faces. Donato's eyes drifted shut as if he could savor the flavors better that way.
Warmth crept into Alejandra's chest. How different was her life now than just three months ago? Life had been steady enough with Papa in their little hut at Las Cuevas. But now, surrounded by this unlikely mixture of friends, a peace touched her spirit like she hadn't felt in a long time. If only Papa could be here to feel it, too.
A quiet sniff sounded beside her, and Alejandra glanced at Mama Sarita. The woman met her gaze, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. She reached for Mama's hand, and the older woman returned her squeeze. They'd lost so much, the two of them. But they had each other. And she wouldn't let that change.
Her eyes scanned the faces around the table again, snagging on the empty chair across from her. Edward. Anna had said he was called on an unexpected assignment this morning. What kind of work took a man from his family on Christmas day? Nothing respectable. That was for certain.
Señor O'Brien rose from his chair, and a hush came over the room. As he moved to a small side table in the corner, some of the men exchanged smiles. Did they know what was happening?
"Normally, Anna does the honors on Christmas," Señor O'Brien said as he picked up a stack of brown paper bundles and examined them. "But something tells me she's been on her feet more than she ought this morning, so I'm taking this job."
He began handing a package to each of the men. Not going down the row, but looking at the paper on each, then taking it to a specific vaquero.
Alejandra eyed Juan, who was one of the first to receive a paper bundle. His gnarled fingers fumbled with the paper, but he finally split the seam to reveal a bright red pañuelo. Or what did the Americans call it? A bandana. Something like that.
A smile split Juan's craggy brown face, lighting his eyes. He held the pañuelo up in one hand and a gold coin in the other. "Muchas gracious." He looked to Anna
After the tree was garnished, Anna called for Emmaline to take her daily nap.
"Mama, can I please stay up and watch the tree a while longer?" The little girl turned those pleading blue eyes on her mother. How in the world could Anna say no? But one look at her friend showed a resolute expression that wouldn't allow her mind to be changed.
Alejandra stepped forward and scooped up Emmaline's hand. "Come, niña. I'll tell you a story about my favorite Navidad before you go to sleep?"
Emmaline gripped Alejandra's hand with her soft chubby one as they left the room and headed up the stairs. The trust in that action started a longing in Alejandra's chest. How wonderful it was to have a child to love.
~ ~ ~
Alejandra settled back in her chair and eyed the activity as their big Christmas meal dwindled to a close. It looked to have been a success, if the empty plates and dishes strewn across the mahogany wood surface was any indication. The food had been a challenge, for sure. The tamales and roasted turkey were familiar, but Anna also taught her how to make mashed potatoes, and a thick gray substance she called gravy. And then there was the apple pie, with a filling not unlike a sweet tamale, but the outside was so different from the corn batter. But, oh, she could still taste the amazing flavor on her tongue.
At least a few of the vaqueros seemed to like it, too. As she watched, Miguel reached for the pie tin that had only a single piece left. But Donato was too quick for him, grabbing the pan and almost dumping the sweet onto his plate.
"Hey." Miguel frowned, like a child who'd had his favorite toy taken away. Then a glimmer touched his eye, and he reached to scoop a forkful of pie from Donato's plate.
Donato elbowed him soundly in the side. But as the men loaded the sweet treat into their mouths, the friendly dispute ended as looks of pleasure came over both of their faces. Donato's eyes drifted shut as if he could savor the flavors better that way.
Warmth crept into Alejandra's chest. How different was her life now than just three months ago? Life had been steady enough with Papa in their little hut at Las Cuevas. But now, surrounded by this unlikely mixture of friends, a peace touched her spirit like she hadn't felt in a long time. If only Papa could be here to feel it, too.
A quiet sniff sounded beside her, and Alejandra glanced at Mama Sarita. The woman met her gaze, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. She reached for Mama's hand, and the older woman returned her squeeze. They'd lost so much, the two of them. But they had each other. And she wouldn't let that change.
Her eyes scanned the faces around the table again, snagging on the empty chair across from her. Edward. Anna had said he was called on an unexpected assignment this morning. What kind of work took a man from his family on Christmas day? Nothing respectable. That was for certain.
Señor O'Brien rose from his chair, and a hush came over the room. As he moved to a small side table in the corner, some of the men exchanged smiles. Did they know what was happening?
"Normally, Anna does the honors on Christmas," Señor O'Brien said as he picked up a stack of brown paper bundles and examined them. "But something tells me she's been on her feet more than she ought this morning, so I'm taking this job."
He began handing a package to each of the men. Not going down the row, but looking at the paper on each, then taking it to a specific vaquero.
Alejandra eyed Juan, who was one of the first to receive a paper bundle. His gnarled fingers fumbled with the paper, but he finally split the seam to reveal a bright red pañuelo. Or what did the Americans call it? A bandana. Something like that.
A smile split Juan's craggy brown face, lighting his eyes. He held the pañuelo up in one hand and a gold coin in the other. "Muchas gracious." He looked to Anna
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