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Marta shook her head. Pangs of sadness shot through her. She ached for the mountains.
“Regardless, we helped him with the vegetables and fruits after that,” Laura continued. “And I said a few lacklustre words in English to him. He seemed genuinely thrilled at my attempt, although I’m sure it was pathetic.”
“You’ve got much better,” Marta affirmed.
“Yes, well. I met him ten days ago, and since then, I’ve lent fresh effort towards the English language. I’ve journeyed to the market three times since then, and each time, I bring Matthew another word or phrase. He rewards me with fresh tomatoes and fresh cucumbers and fresh herbs, which I usually just pass along to the kitchen staff. He’s genuine and kind, Marta. The boys have plotted and schemed to go back with me again, perhaps tomorrow, to help translate.”
Marta could hardly believe what Laura said. Her eyes filled with tears. How was it possible that already, Laura charged towards a far different reality than the ones they’d arrived in England with? Perhaps soon, Marta would have to say goodbye.
Marta translated how thrilled she was to Laura once more. Laura squeezed her hand and said, “But perhaps soon, all will work out between yourself and Baldwin.”
“Perhaps. But I imagine it won’t be as simple as picking up a few squashed vegetables,” Marta said, her voice heavy.
“Whatever happens, Baldwin loves you far more than either of us can fully imagine,” Laura said. “You can see it in everything he does. He even acts out more, tells more stories. He’s become something else to please you. Perhaps this lurked within him all the time.”
