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

later, Ana.” And with that, he turns and starts to walk off in the direction of his hovel.

“Victor!” I call after him.

He turns, looking wary.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for nagging you earlier,” I say. “I just hate to see you hurting yourself.”

Victor sighs.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “But sometimes life feels like such a trap, you know? Like there’s no way out. I don’t like getting beat up. I just don’t know what else to do. I’m no good at anything other than mining, and I won’t do that. I’m not going to beg either. At least when I drink, I forget about all that for a bit.”

“You don’t have to beg,” I say, thinking furiously, trying to come up with an answer that makes sense. Surely there’s something else he could do—I get that he can’t go back to school when he has to cover his own rent and food, but there must be some skill from when he was a miner that he could use now to get a job. “You’re strong, you know how to use dynamite and tools. You could do construction!”

Victor is shaking his head.

“You don’t use dynamite to build a house, silly.”

“You do in demolition,” I counter. “Like when you build a road.”

“I don’t think they let kids play with dynamite outside the mine. Besides”—he looks away—“I don’t want to work with dynamite anymore. I know you say it’s not my fault, but I just . . . I just don’t want to, okay?”

I get it. I was terrified of working with dynamite in the mines, and that’s not even counting the guilt I know he still carries from the accident he believes he caused. I can understand why he would never want to touch dynamite or mining gear again. It would remind him of that terrible day every single time he used it.

“Okay.” Then I remember a different day from our time in the mines and the conversation I overheard last night. “What about Joaquín?” I blurt out.

Victor raises an eyebrow in my direction. “What about him?”

“He said last night he was training to be a mechanic.”

“I knew you weren’t asleep,” Victor teases.

“Okay, okay, I was faking,” I agree. “But seriously, he’s a nice guy, right? If he knows about how to fix cars, maybe he could show you how? Introduce you to his teacher?”

“I don’t know anything about cars!”

I can tell he’s laughing this off, but I have to make him see.

“So what? You love to learn about machines! Remember that air compressor you fixed with César?” Victor blinks at me. I race on. “You were so interested in learning how that dumb thing worked. You got it working again with him, and later you told me how good it felt to actually fix something. Imagine if you could do that with your whole life?”

Victor stares at me a moment, considering. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s not laughing me off anymore either.

“It’s got to be better than getting beat up every day,” I add. “Think about it, at least?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I guess it would be. I’ll think about it.” Then his face clears and his usual smile pops back into place. “Now get home and put my ‘blood money’ to good use.” And with a wave over his shoulder, he turns the corner and is gone.

“Bye, Victor,” I say softly to the empty street.

Clutching the precious bottle of medicine to my chest, I head toward the tall stone arch that leads out of the city.

I don’t go anywhere near the posada. I couldn’t eat Carmencita’s sweet bread even if they gave me a whole loaf of it. I stumble up the rocky incline, head bent against the wind, a wreck inside. I feel horrible having taken Yenni’s money.

César, I remind myself. It’s for César. Your family needs you right now.

But even though I’m nowhere near the mines, I feel like I’ve finally let the devil inside. It makes me feel dirty and bad. The cathedral’s bells clang hollowly behind me, a taunting reminder from God.

I have to find a way to repay Yenni.

19

The look on Mami’s face when I walk in the door and hand her the bottle of cough medicine is a beautiful thing, no matter the cost it took to put it there. She rushes at once to give some to César.

Since it’s a Saturday, Belén and Abuelita are out at the slag heap, so for a moment I’m alone in the main room. I sink onto the bucket seat and take a moment to savor how good it feels to be warm and off my feet. Through the closed bedroom door I can hear the rustle of Mami tending to César, and I sit there with my eyes closed, letting my body relax, listening to their quiet murmur.

Ten minutes later, Mami comes out.

“Would you like some soup?” she asks.

“Yes, please,” I say. Other than the loaf of bread I shared with Victor last night, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s popcorn. The last time I had a hot meal was the night before that.

Mami gets down a bowl and serves me from a pot that she had wrapped in a blanket on the counter to keep it warm. Gratefully, I take it from her and sip it, breathing in the savory steam and breathing out my frustrations. Too quickly it’s gone, but I know not to ask for more. Even in César’s house, money doesn’t stretch to second helpings.

“Thank you,” I say, putting the bowl down.

“Thank you,” Mami says. “Maybe with the medicine he’ll be able to get some sleep. Did you have any trouble getting it? How was your night at the posada?”

Briefly, I consider telling her that I didn’t spend the night at the posada and that there wasn’t enough money to cover the cost of the medicine. But I don’t know how I’d answer her questions about Victor, and I’m ashamed I took Yenni’s money. I’m too