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19.
AISHA GENTLY UNEARTHED THE carrotsand dusted the soil from them before carefully putting them in the basket. She cradled a tomato in her palm, determined its readiness for picking, and let it hang with the others for another day. She selected the ripest fruit from the vines, inhaled their rich fragrance, and smiled with the memory of kissing Gabi.
The sensation that had developed low in her belly had been so strong, it had alarmed her. She had wondered whether it was her penance for straying onto this immoral path, and that she might die for her transgression. She’d been relieved when her breath had returned. In Gabi’s arms and hearing Gabi’s honest words, she’d felt safe and vindicated in her lust.
She touched her lips. Gabi’s mouth had been gentle and enquiring, and the softness of her lips and skin had been like touching warm silk. The blissful state had stayed with her on the journey home that she hadn’t wanted to take. It had kept her awake until dawn, and she’d willed the sun to rise, fearful that if she slept, she might wake to find it had all been a dream. She’d got up earlier this morning, filled with kindness and joy, and welcomed her mama to the day with a pot of coffee and an omelette.
She broke three stems of mint and inhaled their aroma, reminded of the mint she’d given Gabi when she’d felt ill after the bus journey. How she’d wanted to kiss her then too. Warmth and softness filled her, and she suppressed the urge to laugh out loud or shout out her joy to the hills.
Hers wasn’t a heart unclean. It was a heart complete with love and in perfect harmony with another. Its vibration was more tuneful than the notes of a song, more intense than the dance that would give character to those notes, and more lyrical than Lorca had captured in his Gypsy ballads. It made the fields greener, the crops sweeter, and the sun brighter. It carved a wider smile on her face that would be hard to shift. Her dream was no longer a dream, and reality gave her hope. But she had to be more careful. It was a dangerous time, wearing her heart so openly, and she could easily give herself away.
“Aisha. Aisha.”
She jolted as if that fear of being found out had just happened. “Conchita.” She released a breath and smiled. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning?”
Conchita planted her hands on her hips and looked skyward. “It’s going to be hot.” She frowned at Aisha. “I need your help with the napkins for the wedding. There’s so much to cut and stitch and it’s going to take me forever, and—”
“Of course.” Aisha hooked the basket in the crook of her arm and started towards the house. She turned when Conchita hadn’t moved. “Are you coming?” Conchita ran to catch up and they walked side by side across the field.
“You seem happier,” Conchita said.
“I am.”
Conchita glanced at Aisha. “It’s not like you.”
Aisha laughed. “I had fun helping at Gabi’s nana’s and woke up refreshed.” Aisha hadn’t seen Estrella, because she’d had to leave to catch the last bus, and she hadn’t exactly helped them with anything by breaking their plates, but a little white lie or two that served a purpose wouldn’t do any harm.
“Aren’t they the people coming in July?”
“Yes, Estrella was born here. She was in love with one of us, a man called Juan and had to leave because of Franco and the war. It’s exactly as Lorca described. She will know some of the elders.” She’d embellished the story with each rendition.
Conchita linked her arm through Aisha’s and matched her stride as they headed back to the house in silence. They sat and started to sew a lace trim onto the cotton placemats that would be used on the main table at the wedding. Each was to be embroidered with the initials of the bride and groom for a lasting memento of their special occasion.
Conchita looked up at Aisha for the fourth time. She seemed poised to say something but sighed and sewed another stitch.
Aisha rested the place mat in her lap. “What is it?”
Conchita raised her head but avoided eye contact. “Can I ask you something?”
Aisha’s heart thundered. She clasped her hands in her lap, stiffened her back, and swallowed. Her world collapsed in front of her eyes, and she blanked out the image. If her sister had guessed something, then she would deal with the question as best she could. She would lie to her face if she had to. “Yes,” she said and hoped Conchita hadn’t picked up her tension.
Conchita glanced at her and then stared at something over her shoulder. “What do you think it’s like?” she asked.
Aisha sank into the chair and released a breath. “What?”
“You know.” Conchita motioned to her lap. “When we do it.”
Aisha smiled inside, though Conchita was frowning and looked in need of reassurance. “I imagine it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world, like being kissed.”
Conchita’s lips parted, and her eyes widened. “Do you think it will hurt?”
Aisha reached across and took her hand. “I’m sure it will feel warm, and tender, and soft, and—”
“Soft. I thought—”
“I mean, soft inside.” Aisha laughed. “Like his tongue when he kisses you.”
Conchita frowned. “His kisses are firm and rough, and he grazes my cheek sometimes.”
