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* * *
My sister is sitting against the headboard of her bed, her legs tucked under her, when I enter the room. She peers at me through her lashes, gnawing nervously on her lower lip.
“Forgive me, Soni,” she whispers.
“For what?” I shut the door silently behind me and sit beside her. Staring at the floor, my eyes full of unshed tears, I let out a sob. “Were you the one who told?”
“I confirmed what they already knew.”
“Why would you do that?!” I cry, turning to her, tears now flowing freely down my cheeks. “How could you betray me?”
“They cornered me! I thought they’d found out about me, and when I realized they hadn’t, I was so relieved, I couldn’t think straight.”
“Wait.” I raise my hand to stop her. “What are you hiding that you thought they’d find out about?”
“I’m pregnant, Soni. I’m pregnant and I’m not sure who the father is.” Her face scrunches as she attempts to hold in her wails.
“What?!”
“You can’t tell anyone. Please,” she begs. “I was just having fun. It was just supposed to be fun.”
I wipe my palm across my brow. “Oh my God, Amelia.”
“What am I going to do?” She’s crying now, letting it all out. “Pa’s going to kill me.”
“He’s not.” I grasp her by the arms and shake her slightly. “He’s not going to kill you, because I’m going to help you. But first, you have to help me.”
“How?”
“Pa will have men watching our window at night now. So you have to be the one to go to the stables.”
“The stables?” she asks incredulously. “The moment I show up there, everyone will know something’s wrong.”
“Well, it’s a risk we’ll have to take. You owe me,” I remind her.
She wipes her tears away, doing her best to settle herself. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”
“I’m going to write Santos a letter asking him to meet us in town.”
* * *
Surprisingly, my sister doesn’t get questioned when she goes into the stables and leaves a letter under Santos’s door. Though she does receive several curious glances because she never goes in there.
The following day, she asks my mother to take us into town to do some shopping for my supposed trip to Spain while I pretend to protest. Of course, it’s all part of my plan to talk to Santos. My mother will have her head in the clouds as usual, and I can sneak away. I just hope to God he reads the letter and shows up.
We go into several stores before my sister finally seizes an opportunity. “Mamá, will you come in with me to try this on? I’ll need help with all these tiny buttons.” Amelia shows my mother a particularly ugly blouse as she glances at me and mouths, “Now.”
Slowly, I back out of the place, carefully opening the door so that the doorbell doesn’t chime as I step out.
Hurriedly, I make my way to the alley behind the Tortilleria. The scent of cornmeal being pressed and heated into fresh tortillas permeates the air, as does the sound of the machinery that heats them. I chose this place because my mother would never come here since she doesn’t cook.
My heart leaps to my throat when I see he’s already there. “Santos!”
I throw myself into his arms, and though he embraces me, it’s easy to tell he’s nervous. “What’s happened?” he asks, scanning the distance as if he’s expecting an attack.
“Pa found out about us. He’s forbidden me from seeing you and is sending me to Spain!”
“What?!” He grips my shoulders, his face instantly hardening.
