Two Hearts in Time by Raymona Marie Anderson

Author:Raymona Marie Anderson [Anderson, Raymona Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, time travel, 19th century Yucatan
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2015-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

It was late Sunday night before Miguel reached his grandmother’s choza just inside the city’s walls. He roused his grandmother from her hammock, her joyful greeting all but dissolving the stone Miguel had carried in his belly during the long ride from Valladolid.

Even the jagged pebble of anger left behind couldn’t belay sleep that night. He fell into his hammock and awoke to full daylight. Through the choza’s open door he saw his grandmother at her loom beneath her prized cieba tree. Miguel swung his feet to the packed, earthen floor, yawned, stretched, and went out to give her a hug.

“You work too hard, Abuelita,” he said, bending over to wrap her in his arms.

She offered her cheek, upon which Miguel planted a noisy smack before filling his lungs and heart with her unique fragrance. “Cecelia Balam still buys that expensive castile soap from the shifty-eyed vendor in the central market?” he chided. “Have I not told you the man’s sister steals it when she delivers fresh linens to the bedchambers of the wealthy?”

“Even the finest hammocks from my loom do not afford me the luxuries from la tienda on the Zócalo,” she said. “And what pleasure does Cecelia Balam enjoy but a good bath every other day?” She gestured at the round, galvanized tub hanging on the choza’s wall. “Did you see the fine bathtub I now own? With water enough I would soak myself every day.”

“You know that my father would supply all the fine soap you need, as well as water to fill the tub as often as you wish—all beneath a nice roof in the city. It troubles me that you live here alone now that Uncle Alejandro is dead.”

Miguel’s concerns and the reference to his late uncle seemingly fell on deaf ears. His grandmother stood and flung a wave at Azúcar. “Your fine horse could not wait her lazy master’s attentions. She stripped my beautiful tree of all the leaves she could reach, but I will forgive her. For you, I have waited long to eat breakfast. Come along, my grandson.”

He followed her to the thatched shelter that housed the tile brazier. “You will not avoid my questions this morning, my grandmother, as you did last night. Why do you feel such anger toward my father?”

She attacked the coals in the brasero with a blackened stick. Sparks flew. She plunked a griddle onto the grate.

“Your anger will burn down your kitchen,” he said drily.

“You speak of anger?” A snort followed the question. Bending, she retrieved a chipped enamel pan of cornmeal dough from the low table and settled onto a low stool. “You came to me full of fury and pain such as I have not seen since you sought me as a boy of nine when fever took your mother, and grief the love of your father. You needed rest last night.”

Silenced by truth, Miguel crouched on his heels and listened.

“Now it is time to talk of pain and anger,” his grandmother said.

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