The Girl Who Could Silence the Wind (12 page)

A familiar voice interrupted her. “What’s the matter? You girls look like two wilted flowers!”

It was Oscar, the house chauffeur. He looked like a dapper grandfather in his bow tie and cap, leaning against his black car, newspaper under his arm. A round-faced dollop of a man, he often came to the kitchen window in the afternoon to escape the silly conversations of his own young apprentices, who always bragged about girlfriends, fast cars, and horse races.

“Oscar! What a miracle to find you here!” Eva said as he joined them.

“Not really. I’ve taken
la señora
to her engagement. I won’t be needed until the afternoon.”

Eva offered a sly smile to Sonia and checked her reflection in the buffed hood. Passersby were admiring the stately automobile, wondering, like Sonia, about the luxuries inside.

“I don’t suppose you’d take us home. You can drop us by the back gate so Teresa doesn’t see. It’s just that the trolley stop is across the plaza. I’ll die before I reach it,” Eva said.

Sonia held her breath. Tía Neli had told her that something this grand might happen. The only vehicle she’d ever known was Rafael’s old truck.

Oscar’s laugh was little bursts of steam through his teeth. “Of course, I’ll take you. I can’t have you perish so stupidly. But if you’re not in a hurry, how about a shaved ice first?” He pointed at a bucktoothed young man smiling amiably from his umbrella cart near the fountain. Oscar turned to Sonia and winked as he handed her two coins.

“That’s my nephew. He gives pretty girls a good price if they smile.”

Sonia stared down at her uniform and then at the healthy flush in Eva’s cheeks.

“Maybe you should go, Eva.”

But Eva only gave Sonia’s hair a little straightening with her fingers. “Give it a try,
amorcito.
Allure is an art; it takes practice.”

“S-s-s-s-s-s!”
Oscar laughed and slapped his knee as Sonia crossed the plaza.

They sat in happy and refreshed silence, enjoying the sights. Workers crisscrossed the busy streets in their smart suits and new shoes. The women left behind a scent of fancy soaps as they whisked by in dresses that only grazed their knees. The men’s pastel ties flapped over their shoulders in the breeze.

But it was a group of schoolgirls that caught Sonia’s attention in particular. Here in the capital, even people her own age looked special in a way she’d never seen at home. No one wore dusty sandals or walked in bare feet. Their hair was combed and pinned, their skin fresh. They looked regal, Sonia thought admiringly, in their pleated skirts and crisp white shirts, a red kerchief tied at their necks. They held books to their chests, shiny ones filled with new and exciting information, she imagined. How nice to be a girl on the way home for a lunch that was prepared by someone else. How lovely not to be the one toiling over steaks and fried potatoes in a grand kitchen that wasn’t her own.

Oscar savored his ice loudly as Sonia watched the group round the corner.

“You know, you remind me of my own granddaughter,” he told her finally.

“I thought
I
reminded you of your granddaughter,” Eva protested. “You’re shameless.”

Oscar smiled guiltily and pulled a picture from his wallet.

“This is Lara.” He pointed to a girl who looked nothing at all like either one of them. “She dreams of becoming a doctor,” he said proudly.

Sonia studied the photograph. Lara looked to be about fifteen, and she had the bright eyes of hope.

“A doctor? That’s good, Señor Oscar,” Sonia said politely. She did not mention that intelligence meant nothing in Tres Montes, where almost no one finished school, regardless of their talents.

Oscar nodded. “A born intellect. Just like her mother.” He looked at Sonia and dabbed the cold syrup from his lips.

“But you have the high forehead of a bright child, too. I see something special behind your eyes.”

“Not at all, Señor Oscar,” she replied quickly. “I’m quite ordinary. I’m happy with dusting and fetching.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “There’s not something else you want to be?”

Sonia fell into a thoughtful silence. She only knew what she did
not
want to be. Not magic. Not lonely. Not trapped. Never once had she thought of what she
did
want, never imagined a future the way Lara did.

“Don’t strain yourself with all that thinking,
amorcito,
” Eva told her. “How many choices do you think there are for girls like us?”

Sonia smiled at Oscar, who was still waiting patiently for her reply.

“I am not sure what I’ll be,
señor.
Maybe a teacher.” The words sprang to her lips from the blue. She shrugged at Eva, who looked positively shocked. “You have to admit that ours at home is a disaster.”

On the ride home, they took turns telling Oscar all about silly Irina Gomez. Sonia marveled at the electric car windows as she listened to Eva’s imitations of Irina Gomez.

“It’s from the goodness of my heart that I slave with these harlots and dunces,” Eva said, throwing back her head. “Not even my doctorate in pedagogy — have I mentioned it? — can break through their thick skulls!”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed to watery slits as he laughed at all they said.

What will you be?

Sonia let that question roam through her mind all afternoon after she returned to Casa Masón. In all her life, no one had ever asked her what she hoped to be. They never asked Rafael or Luis or anyone. Irina Gomez certainly hadn’t entertained such thoughts. But neither had her parents, though she knew they loved her. Why not?

She was walking back from the laundry, still admiring Lara’s audacity, when she saw the rear gates open. This time it was not Oscar’s long black car winding through the grounds, but a bright red convertible barreling down the path in her direction. When she looked carefully, she saw that Umberto was behind the wheel.

Sonia stepped on the lawn to let the miniature car pass, but instead it came to a halt right beside her. Umberto looked suntanned, and his hair was tousled. He wore sunglasses and a fine linen shirt that was the same creamy color of the leather seats. From where she was standing, she could even smell his cologne.

“I can never resist stopping for a pretty girl,” he said, smiling. “It’s my weakness. Hop in. It’s Sonia, isn’t it? Come on; I’ll give you a ride to the main house.”

The engine made the ground beneath her feet rumble in a way she did not like. For a moment, she was tongue-tied, thinking of how to escape. The others were back at the kitchen — and she suddenly felt very much alone.

“It’s not far, Señor Umberto,” she said carefully. “I can walk. But thank you very much for the offer.” She started off quickly, but his little car lurched forward.

Umberto took off his glasses and pocketed them before leaning over to open the door. “I insist.”

Sonia stared at the door and the two compact seats. How exactly did one refuse a request from her employer’s nephew?

“You there!” Teresa was hobbling along the path from the garden, waving her handkerchief like a flag. “Come along!”

Sonia breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time since meeting her, she was thankful to lay eyes on the old woman.

“I’m afraid I have to go,” she told Umberto politely.

“Pity,” he said, and zoomed off toward the garage.

She ran to where Teresa was waiting up at the path.

“
A la orden,
Señora Teresa,” she said, out of breath.

Teresa waited for Umberto’s car to disappear before grabbing Sonia roughly by the arm and leading her toward the house.

“What did you think you were doing out there?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Nothing, Señora Teresa,” Sonia said in shock. “I delivered the laundry and was on my way back. Señor Umberto drove up and offered a ride.”

Teresa squeezed her arm tighter with surprising strength.

“We don’t hire hussies here, you understand? You stay away from that boy.”

“Hussy? It’s nothing like that! I tried to say no —”

The old woman let out a snort and continued on toward the house. The effort of marching at this pace was making her wheeze.

“I’ve lived long enough to smell trouble. I know how some of you country girls think! You want to slip inside the eyes of any rich man and snag his imagination, so his money can solve all your problems. You’ll throw yourself at anything.
¡Tremenda!
”

Sonia pulled her arm free at last and stopped near the kitchen door. “But that’s not true, Señora Teresa. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

Teresa’s eye was twitching.

“You are a domestic,” Teresa hissed. “A domestic
apprentice,
in fact, which means you have a place — and that’s in the kitchen, understand? You are not paid to fill the eyes of men, least of all Señor Umberto. Stay away from him. If I see you talking again, I’ll have you on the next train home. Do you hear me?”

Sonia entered the kitchen without a word.

Ramona looked up from her ledger book and frowned when she saw Sonia’s expression. “Is there a problem?”

“Go help the others with the linens,” Teresa snapped. “A word with you, Ramona.” She motioned to the dining room.

Sonia sat down at the table, where Dalia and Eva were already working. Her lips were trembling, and her eyes were brimming with tears of frustration, already imagining her reputation in shreds.

Eva reached for a napkin and looked over her shoulder. “What’s the matter with the old witch now,
amor
?”

Sonia shook her head as her tears spilled. She reached for a napkin to fold.

“Don’t worry,
amorcito,
” Eva cooed. “One day, when you’re a teacher, you won’t have to deal with the likes of that old thing — not to mention being spared the trouble making these silly birds.” Four cloth swans were already made for the lunch table.

Dalia looked at Eva with disdain. “Why do you do this, Eva? Let this silly girl feel sorry for herself? Fill her head with pointless dreams? What are you going to tell her next, eh? That one of these birds can take flight?”

Eva kept her eyes down as she worked. “Don’t be cruel. Some of us still have feelings, Dalia. We haven’t all forgotten how to dream, you know.”

Dalia’s mouth tightened to a line. “Cruel? How about you? You treat this girl like a pampered hothouse flower. She’ll never learn how to survive a single day in the real world.
That’s
cruel.”

She glanced at Sonia, whose cheeks were now rivers, and shook her head in disgust. “Let me guess: Teresa called you a hussy. She would know — that old cow warmed the bed of Señora Masón’s father for years.” She twisted the next cloth as if wringing a bird’s neck. “In time, you’ll be called worse. Now, stop your stupid tears. You’ve been spoiled long enough, little angel.”

T
HE CEMENT WASHING
tubs stood at the back edge of the property, hidden in the shade of two schefflera trees. Normally, the laundry shed and the outdoor tubs were the realm of two local
lavanderas
who arrived from their homes before sunrise and worked like shadows on the various estates of Punta Gorda, scrubbing shirt collars and underwear until they were fragrant and new.

Sonia stared with gloom at the mountain of dirty dinner linens waiting in the nearby baskets.

“It’s only until Umberto is done visiting,” Ramona said, trying to cheer her up. “Hand me the hose.”

Sonia listened as Ramona explained the steps. To keep her from “tempting Umberto,” as Teresa had so plainly put it, Sonia would do the laundry each morning instead.

Only until Umberto is done visiting.
And why exactly did she have to pay the price for Umberto’s unwanted attentions? Sonia didn’t dare ask. All morning she hauled hot water and scrubbed until her nails peeled down like paper.

When she returned to the kitchen for the lunch hour, the front of her uniform was soaked and clinging to her chest.

Eva looked up as Sonia lugged in the basket of pressed linens. She was crushing bulbs of garlic for the
sofrito.

“Look at it this way,
amorcito,
” she whispered when Ramona went to store the laundry in the buffet. “The smell of coconut soap under your nails is better than garlic.”

“And why do they have you out here?” Oscar asked as he handed Sonia a clothespin a few days later. He had noticed her in the shadows, where she had been wrestling to pin sheets on the line.

Sonia felt a blush rising. How could she explain those ugly accusations to a grandfather?

“Teresa ordered it,” she replied carefully.

“
Ay,
what is that old woman thinking? I’ll have a talk with her. A young girl likes to work with her companions — not here with only the lizards for company.”

Sonia turned to him, pale. “Please don’t.” The last thing she needed was to get any more of Teresa’s attention. “I don’t mind at all. It’s . . . nice to be out in the fresh air.”

She finished pinning and headed back to the sheets she had left soaking in the basin. Already her shoes were wet and squeaky.