Page 25 of Prisoner of War
“This way,” Duardo murmured, pulling her through what must be a formal front room into the room beyond, from where the warm light spilled. There were three steps up into the room and he wentfirst and drew her along.
It was a kitchen as Minnie had suspected and it was full of people. When they saw Duardo there was an outburst of furious Spanish. Women threw themselves at him and the hold he had on Minnie’s hand was lost as he hugged them, kissing cheeks and responding.
Minnie could feel herself drawing back toward the doorway. She couldn’t help it. It was one of those rare occasionswhen she felt inadequate, dumb and ugly. There were four women and one man in the room and all of them were gorgeous, including the man. Duardo’s good looks were a family trait.
The oldest woman had to be his mother. Her hair was tied up in a bun on the top of her head and was gray at the temples. Her eyes were young, though. She was tall, upright and slender. She had Duardo’s eyes with longlashes and there were wrinkles at the corners, showing that she smiled a lot. She wore jeans, topped with what looked like an old army-issue fatigue shirt. When she turned, Minnie sawPeñastenciled across the top of the pocket and hid her smile.
Duardo stepped back to grip Minnie’s hand again and bring her forward. “Everyone, this is Miss Minerva Benning.”
“Minnie,” she amended hastily.
Theystared at her.
“Minnie is American,” Duardo added, in Spanish. “Her Spanish is not as good as our English, so let’s change, yes?”
“English is fine,” said Duardo’s mother, stepping forward. “You have the perfect name for one who is with Duardo, do you not?”
“I do?” Minnie blinked, astonished.
“Minerva was the Roman goddess,” she explained. “The goddess of wisdom and...” She frowned and lookedat Duardo. “¿Cuál es ‘valor marcial’ en inglés?”
He laughed. “Military skills and courage,” he translated.
“Hell, that’s not me at all,” Minnie said.
“A goddess, yes,” Duardo said. “That does make you perfect. Minnie, this is my mother, Isabela Santos y Narvaez.”
Isabela smiled at her. “You are hungry?”
“A bit,” Minnie confessed.
“We eat in a little, okay?” Isabela marshaled the other womenand the man into a ragged row. “But first, my family.” She pointed to the other man—a slightly younger version of Duardo, but with short hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a sharp way of looking right through her. “This is Cristián.”
He nodded at her. “Forgive, butinglésnot. Not.” He shrugged. “Better as—” and he waved his hand in the air as if he were writing on invisible paper.
“Cristián writesbetter English because he is always chatting on the Internet,” Duardo murmured.
Cristián rolled his eyes. “I study also.”
“He will get the first degree in texting,” said one of the younger women, stepping forward. “Hi. I’m Téra Alejandra. As you’ve probably figured out, us three are triplets.” She pointed at the other two women. “That’s Trini Juanita. She hasn’t got much English. But she speakssome of everything and she spends as much time on the Internet as Cristián.”
“I talk…friends in Europe,” Trini said.
“This one is Pía Isabela,” Téra continued. “She has no English. Ask her anything in computer and she’s your girl.”
It was clear that Pía was not following the conversation at all, but she nodded to Minnie when Téra waved toward her.
“Pía is good at keeping our computers going,”Cristián explained. “There are not many digital experts in Pascuallita.”
Minnie took a deep breath. “It’s very nice to meet you all. But...do I use both your names?” she asked Téra. “Are you always Téra Alejandra?”
Isabela laughed, the same low chuckle as Duardo but with a feminine trill. “Only those three use both their names. It is the one thing they do agree upon.”
“I don’t understand,”Minnie confessed.
“Téra, Trini and Pía,” Duardo explained.
Téra wrinkled her nose, lifted a finger. “Birds on a wire. Dit, dit, dit.” She dabbed her fingertip three times in the air to point out the rhythm.
