“It’s wonderful. I love how you all work together.” Susanna leaned back against one of the posts that held up the roof. “I have to admit I’m envious. There are so many of you all together, and you love each other. That much is clear.”
“Don’t envy. We have our problems, just like other families. When there are more people, there are just more problems. Uncle Enrico and my father fight all the time.” She smiled. “But you are right. They love each other.”
After the tortillas, John came to tell his mother that Uncle Enrico had invited him to work on the tiles.
Susanna couldn’t help but get excited. “Oh, may I watch?”
Lia giggled. “Of course. I’m sure my tío wouldn’t mind.”
They left the house and walked past the smaller houses and the barns until they came to a large building at the far north end of the complex. The large sliding doors were open, and inside was such a variety of stuff that Susanna couldn’t take it all in at once.
“Over there is where the tiles are drying,” John told Susanna and his mother. “And over here is where all the painting is done. Down there,” he pointed, “are the ovens.”
“Lia, you have brought your beautiful friend,” Uncle Enrico declared, coming from behind a tall drying rack. “I’m honored.”
“I’m sorry to impose. I just wondered if I might watch you for a while.” Susanna continued trying to see everything at once.
“We’re going to paint designs today,” John said, his voice animated. “This is my favorite thing to do with the tiles.”
“That’s because you are very good at it,” Uncle Enrico told him.
The older man led them to the place he had prepared and found a couple of stools for the women to sit on. He and John had their own special chairs and claimed these at the table.
Susanna was fascinated as Enrico showed her the templates he had made for the designs. They were carved out of thin wooden sheets. She watched as he placed a tile and template together. Once they were positioned as he wanted them, he took a sponge dabbed it in black, then touched it to the template and tile. He did it so quickly that it only took a couple of seconds and the entire tile was done. He took off the template, and the clay tile beneath was decorated with intricate patterns.
“That is how I get the outline on the tiles. But today, John and I are painting. I just wanted to show you that because I was certain you would wonder how the design was drawn so perfectly.”
She looked at the stack of tiles that had been stenciled and dried. “Yes. I would have.”
“Much happens to the tiles before they reach this place. The clay has to be mixed to just the right consistency. Then it must be pounded and kneaded and rolled out on the table.”
“Just like tortillas,” she said, laughing.
“Sí. These are my tortillas.” Uncle Enrico chuckled and nodded to John, who had been waiting patiently for something. The boy picked up a paint brush and a tile as his great-uncle continued to explain.
“Once the clay is spread to the proper thickness, I cut the blocks. I created a cutting tool so that I can just press it into the clay and cut many blocks at once. When this is done, I let them dry. Eventually they will be baked and glazed and baked again, and finally they will be painted.”
“They’re truly so beautiful. I love the ones at Lia’s house.”
“I did the ones inside, and Juan has made the outside ones.”
“Yes, he told me on the trip here. He was so excited to come and work again.”
“I probably shouldn’t have taken the boys from school, but this is school too,” Lia said, smiling at her son. “I think these are things they should learn. Emilio works with the horses, and my father has taught him so much. He’s a better rider than any of us and knows how to handle so many problems.”
“At such a young age, that is amazing,” Susanna said, marveling, as John was already focused on painting certain areas of the tile a beautiful blue.
“Papa always said that children can learn as well as adults,” Lia continued. “They might not be as big or strong, but they are smart. The girls learn all about cooking and sewing when they are still quite young. We learn about horses too, even tiles if we are interested, or farming or building. Whatever it is, my papa always said it was important to be always learning.”
After a horseback ride that afternoon and supper that evening, several of the family brought out instruments and serenaded the group with wonderful Spanish songs. Susanna couldn’t understand the words but loved the rich baritone of Lia’s father.
As she reflected on all the fun she was having, she realized she hadn’t thought even once about her own family or the problems that awaited her in San Marcial.
When Owen and LeRoy finally arrived, the party was well underway, and Susanna was ready to forget her own people and beg to stay with Lia’s.
“I’ve never felt more love and affection. Not just for each other, but toward me,” Susanna told Owen as they stepped into the courtyard. “I never thought family could be like this. Even Mark’s mother and father were very staid and sober. Mark and I enjoyed each other’s company, but it wasn’t the same as what I have here with Lia’s family and . . . you.”
“I’m glad you included me,” Owen said, taking her hand. “My family was no better than yours. In fact, worse. My mother died when I was twelve, and my grandparents finished raising my brother and me. Our father was a train engineer and never home—at least not for long. I could never do right by any of them, and I was a difficult child at times. I was so angry to have lost my mother. She was a good woman.”
“So you were close to her?”
He nodded and looked up into the sky. “We were. She’s the one who first told me about Jesus. No one else in the family even seemed to care. I can’t honestly say what they cared about, except maybe my brother, Daniel. He was only two when Mama died, and my grandmother found her comfort in losing a daughter by spoiling her grandson. Daniel was never made to account for anything he did. I suppose that’s why he didn’t think he should have to own up to his mistakes as an adult.”
Susanna shook her head as they paused to gaze into each other’s eyes. A light rain had begun to fall. Owen pulled her along to the covered walkway and put his arm around her. He held her close. It felt so right, and Susanna couldn’t help but sigh.
She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you weren’t loved.”
“I always felt so alone. When my grandparents died, I didn’t even cry.”
She nodded. “I understand. I didn’t either. We weren’t at all close. I hate to admit it, but I’m not even sure I would cry if my mother died. Isn’t that horrible? I feel like a terrible person.”
“But you aren’t,” Owen said, turning her to face him. “You’re the kindest and most generous soul. You’ve been a blessing to them, and whether or not they see it, I do.” He pushed back stray strands of her hair as the rain fell a little harder. “You are an amazing woman, Susanna. You’re all I can think about.” He touched her cheek. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”