Silvia’s parents didn’t take the invitation seriously. She stepped aside to introduce her friend, who struggled with a phrase or two but was perfectly charming. They left soon after, Silvia relieved once in the confines of the Bronco, because it meant she could drop the brave façade.
Keisha seemed to notice, her gaze lingering before she started the car. “How are things?” she asked as they drove away.
“My parents are planning a move.”
Keisha’s head whipped toward her. “As in, they’re moving somewhere else in Pride? Or…”
“Chicago,” Silvia said from around a tight throat.
“Wow.” The Bronco slowed. “Any reason why?”
Silvia hesitated, like she always did. Sometimes she wanted to freak out and shout the truth at the top of her lungs, consequences be damned. “My dad thinks he’ll have an easier time finding work.”
Keisha didn’t ask why, thank goodness. “But if he finds work here, then your family will stay? Because I’ve already talked to my parents about it.”
“You have?”
Keisha nodded. “They definitely need extra help right now.”
“What about his broken leg?”
“He can still drive a tractor, can’t he?”
Not only could he. Miguel would be thrilled! Earning anything at all—even a little—would lift his spirits. But it wouldn’t be enough to change their plans. “I appreciate the offer, but my dad needs to find full-time work.”
“That’s possible,” Keisha said with an air of authority that had to be based on hope alone. “Let’s get him out on the farm and see where he fits in. My parents need roofing work, once he’s back on his feet.”
“They told you that?” Silvia pressed.
Keisha nodded. “And I told them about your family’s garden. Little Bee wants to grow flowers out of her own toilet now. She even promised to water them herself.”
Silvia laughed, although her amusement was short-lived. There was a very big reason this plan wouldn’t work, but she wasn’t foolish enough to voice it. “The idea is nice,” she said noncommittally.
Keisha noticed. “I promised to show you around the farm today. While you’re getting the tour, we can come up with a list of work your dad could do. You know his skills. We’ll write it all down and see if he likes the idea.”
“He will,” Silvia said. “It’s your parents I’m worried about.”
“Like I said, they need the extra help.”
That’s not what she meant. The Hart family might open their doors to undocumented people on the holidays, but the charitable deed didn’t put them at risk. Hiring someone with no legal status would.
“Chestnut is looking forward to seeing you,” Keisha said.
No other change of topic could have been as effective as mentioning that horse. “I have a carrot and an apple with me,” Silvia admitted. “Actually, I bought three kinds of apples, because I wasn’t sure which she would like better. I figure we can eat the other two. Unless she also wants them.”
Keisha laughed. “If we were dating, I’d worry you were only using me to get at my horse.”
“I would absolutely do that,” Silvia said shamelessly. “Marriage, kids, the works. Whatever it takes to get my Chestnut time.”
“Sounds like Omar has some serious competition.”
“Not really. Although I do like brushing his hair. And feeding him sugar cubes when he’s been a good boy.”
Keisha snorted. “You’ve definitely got him eating out of your hand.”
Silvia nodded. “He’d do anything I asked him to. Which is why I’m careful not to abuse that power. I don’t want to ruin him.”
“Ruin him?” Keisha repeated incredulously while making a face. “How would you do that?”
“He has a certain kind of innocence. Not when it comes to sex, because he’s still a boy, but he has a generous heart.” She winced at her own words. “I know how cheesy that sounds, but when Omar loves, he goes whole hog. The faucet is either all the way on or… Actually, I think it’s just always on.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Keisha murmured. “But I do think it’s sweet how protective you are of him. And his innocence.”
Silvia was the first to laugh. “Poetry isn’t my thing, okay? I just don’t want him to turn out to be another bitter guy who pounds his own chest instead of letting himself feel what’s inside of it. Honestly, having someone be so in love with you is kind of daunting.”
“I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” Keisha said. “Omar won’t be the last person to put you in that position.”
Silvia glanced over at her self-consciously, but Keisha wasn’t making eyes at her or frowning. Her face was serene as she continued driving them toward the farm. At least until “Everybody Everybody” by Black Box came on the radio and she cranked it up. That’s when Keisha began to shake her body while hanging on to the wheel like it was a dance partner.
“Come on,” she said, grinning at her. “I’ve been auditioning dancers all week. Let’s see what you’ve got!”
Silvia’s face was already burning as she raised her fists and did a sad little shimmy.
Keisha laughed. “We’ll work on it.” She rolled down the window, stuck her head out, and shouted, “Today is going to be so much fun!”
Silvia laughed before copying her and hollering out her own side of the Bronco. “I’m going to ride on a fucking horse, you jealous bitches!”
They were on a country road, but she liked to think that the wind carried their voices across the fields to someone who could hear.
Before long they turned down a road and passed beneath a gate that marked the beginning of Hartland Farms. Unlike her visit on Christmas, they continued past the public entrance and parking area, travelling down a single lane road to a sprawling two-story house.
“Wow,” Silvia said as they parked in front of it.
“Keep in mind that I have eight million brothers and sisters,” Keisha said. “And that a farm has a whole lot of overhead.”
“In other words, you’re rich.”
“Hey, there aren’t any handouts in this family,” Keisha retorted. “Not even an allowance. If we want money, we have to work.”
Silvia had only been teasing, but being self-sufficient was obviously important to Keisha. And a big turn-on for her personally. Still, after they climbed out of the Bronco, she couldn’t help asking, “Is that a six-car garage?”
“Eight million siblings,” Keisha repeated. “It’s true that we have way more property than most people, including a whole slew of vehicles and buildings. You have to think of how much space it would take if your parents brought their work home. Your dad would need acres of land for all those roofs he repairs, and next to them would be an entire hotel, just so your mom can clean the rooms. The farm isn’t my home. That is.” She pointed at her house before turning in a slow circle. “The rest is work.”
Silvia nodded, as if in understanding. “And your house just happens to have a completely separate, two-story, six-car garage.”