Treasure of the World Tara Sullivan (inspirational books for women TXT) 📖

“Time to get on the bus,” he says to Daniel. “Are you ready?”

Daniel looks at me. I squeeze his fingers and give him an encouraging smile.

“Better air is waiting,” I say, tucking what’s left of the little mud angel into his hand.

Daniel’s fingers wrap around the angel, and giving me the ghost of a smile, he turns to César.

“I’m ready,” he says.

17

I’m amazed at how easily my days fall into a new routine. Mami and I get up before dawn, like we always did, and prepare breakfast. After that first day we don’t have soup anymore, but it’s a refreshing treat to always be able to lay out loaves of flatbread to eat with our coca tea. Once the tea is ready, Mami wakes César, and I help Belén brush and braid her hair. After breakfast, César heads off to the mine, and Belén meets up with her friends from the neighboring houses and walks down the mountain to attend half-day school.

So far, in the two weeks since Daniel left us, I’ve found an excuse every day to avoid going back to school. And every day that I’ve let it slide has made it easier to skip the next day.

There’s plenty to do: merging two houses means that there’s lots of laundry, cleaning, preparing food, and thinking about what we need to buy and what will have to wait. I’m kind of surprised that Mami hasn’t made a bigger fuss about me going back to school since, as a supervisor for the cooperative, César must make more than Papi did, but she’s let me work as a palliri with her and Abuelita every day without comment.

Though there are times I miss the quiet, it’s nice being near other people. I hadn’t realized how lonely our life was before. I like seeing the glow of other windows when I’m working outside past nightfall, and it’s cheerful to say hello to people during the day. It’s also nice to see Mami and Abuelita start to make friends. Instead of breaking rock alone, we all now sit on the slag heap down the road from El Rosario with the other mining wives. They’re mostly women Mami and Abuelita knew from before, but never had the time to talk with. Now that they’re three minutes away instead of the better part of two hours, Mami and Abuelita are rekindling all kinds of old friendships.

And though it’s hard to have new people inside the house too, I do like Belén. And César is still nice. He doesn’t drink too much and, so far, he hasn’t hit Mami.

Yet, for all the good in my new life, there are times when I miss the life that fit me more comfortably. Times I even find myself missing Papi, just because I knew how to live the life that he was part of and now I feel so unsure of myself. Times I still wake up, haunted by dreams of the devil, as if nothing had changed at all. Most of all, though, I miss Daniel. I don’t remember life when he wasn’t one step behind me. I keep turning around, expecting to share something with him, and not seeing him there. I miss the way he could make me laugh. I miss having someone who knows what life used to be like. I even miss his mischief and the way he used to tease me.

Every few days, one of us makes the effort to go to the post office in Potosí. We send letters to Daniel, money to César’s cousin, and pick up any letters they’ve sent us.

Dear Mami, his last letter said. You were right. It is so much easier to breathe down here. I don’t feel like I’m choking all the time. Everyone is nice to me and I’m learning about farming by watching them. Someday soon maybe I can start to help out for real. Yours, Daniel.

His letters are positive, encouraging. It still hurts to have him gone.

This morning, though, doesn’t follow the pattern. Instead of his standard mining gear, César comes out of the bedroom in dark trousers and a knitted alpaca-wool sweater. I blurt out the question before I can stop myself.

“Why are you all dressed up?”

“We’re off to the city,” César says, as if that explains it all. “Your grandmother wants to catch Mass.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. We’re not that religious and today’s not even a Sunday. We only go to Potosí if we need something or when we’re getting Daniel’s letters. In fact, now that I think about it, the last time I sat in a church was for my father’s funeral.

“It’s a Friday,” I manage, still not entirely able to decipher the sparkle in his eyes.

“Well,” he says, straight-faced, “no time like the present to get more devout.”

I can tell he’s teasing me, but I still haven’t figured out the joke when Belén comes shrieking into the house, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

“It’s the first of April! It’s the first of April!”

César scoops her into a hug.

“Is it?” he asks, pretend confusion on his face. “So what?”

“Pa-pi!” she groans, making the second syllable go on forever. “They’ve been talking about it in school all week. I had to practice a special dance and everything! Tell me we’re going into town, pleeeeeease?”

“We’re going into town,” he says, and puts her down.

Belén shrieks with joy and runs off to change into something fancier.

Now I’m in on the joke. The first of April is the anniversary of when the Spanish first found silver in the Cerro Rico in 1545. It’s a festival day, and down in the city there will be speeches and parades all day long.

“The first of April, huh?” I say to César, who managed to keep a straight face through all of Belén’s ruckus. “I suppose it’s as good a day as any to get