Voyage of the Pleiades by Amy Marie Turner

Author:Amy Marie Turner
Format: epub

Chapter Twenty-Two

We woke and began our days at different times, so it was rare to have company at the breakfast table. Of course, today was the day that everyone occupied the kitchen at the same time. Matias and Jaime were single-minded in their consumption of a mountain of eggs while Maria stood at the stove poised to resupply.

I perched in the corner sipping my beloved coffee and avoiding eye contact with Matias. As far as he was aware, our last interaction was our argument in the paddock. My mind was awash with images of last night and I was no doubt beet red from the lusty thoughts. I was liable to combust if I didn’t flee soon, but I was trying to keep my promise to Matias to not venture off alone.

I was beginning another round of self-flagellation after staring at Matias’s forearms, when Maria interrupted my reverie. She relinquished her post at the stove and sat at the table, rolling an apple toward her:

“I dreamt last night of apples. Green apples.” Her mouth crumpled in distress.

Jaime’s fork clattered to his plate, alarmed. “Green apples?”

“Yes” she said. “In my dream the branches in the orchard were so heavy with green apples that they were breaking and crashing to the ground.”

An uneasy silence spread filled the kitchen, she and Jaime exchanged a troubled look. Matias, as clueless as I, shrugged.

“What’s the significance of the apples?”

“Matias,” she scolded, “I know your mother taught you about dreams. For chilote, to dream of green apples is to receive a sign of coming sorrow. We’ve had enough sorrows in this family, I hoped perhaps we were due some joy.”

Maria’s hand went to her waist and cupped her abdomen. She cradled a small swelling visible beneath the fabric. Jaime reached across the table to squeeze her other hand. How had I not noticed that she was pregnant? She couldn’t be far along. Matias didn’t seem to have noticed the exchange, his shoulders were hunched and tense.

“Maria. Jaime. There’s something I need to tell you.”

His words were cut off by pounding on the front door, so sudden and jarring that I slopped coffee on to my hand. All three of them shot up from the table and Jaime answered the door. I remained where I was, but I could hear agitated voices in the hall. Vicente, a neighbor, followed Jaime into the kitchen, wringing his hands.

“Vincente, Buenos días. ¿Has comido?”

Maria gestured to a chair, but Vicente waved it away and paced the small kitchen. Jaime leaned on the wall instead of sitting in the empty chair.

“What is the matter, my friend?”

“I went to Cristobal’s this morning, early, to see a ram we were to breed with my ewes, and…” Vincente stopped and covered his eyes, choking back a sob. He swallowed, struggling for composure.

“Cristobal is dead. There’s blood everywhere. I—I didn’t know what to do. Your house is the closest, so I came here. I couldn’t stay there a moment longer.” He collapsed into the chair his elbows on his knees.

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