“That’s something. I can’t tell one end of a needle from the other.”
“One end will prick you.” She laughed.
“Yeah, OK, I knew that.” He smiled.
Damn. The way his eyes crinkled at the sides and the hint of the dimple in his cheek sent her senses into overdrive.
“Do you sew very often?”
She pushed the lust down. “When I have time.” Silence fell and she added, “I had to learn to sew. When we were younger, Mama couldn’t afford a lot, so I had to alter Bridget’s hand-me-downs.”
“That must have been rough. You migrated to the States when you were young, right?”
She nodded. “I was three. I don’t remember much about El Salvador. My first memories are living in a tiny little apartment, sharing a room with Bridget, and Mama working at a nursery. She didn’t earn a lot, but we managed.”
“Was it hard for you to learn English?”
“Not at all. My father apparently used to speak English to all us girls, and when we moved here, Carly taught me until I went to school. It was pretty easy after that.”
“Being bilingual must be handy.”
“Sure.” The conversation paused as they ordered dessert. “Do you speak any other languages?”
“I know a little bit of a lot of languages,” David admitted. “Enough to say please, thank you, where is the bathroom, that kind of thing.”
He liked to be polite. It said a whole lot about him. “Where have you traveled?”
“I travel a bit for work— Australia, Canada, Europe. My favorite place is probably New York. It’s so busy and energetic.”
That sounded awful. Her life was hectic enough as it was. “You like to be busy?”
“I like people, and the vibe that everyone has somewhere to be, something to do.”
She understood to a certain extent. There were times when she loved the vibe of Casa Flanagan, but if she ever got away for an extended period of time she wanted to do nothing but sit on a beach and read a book.
As the dessert was served, David asked, “So you have six foster sisters?”
“Yes, plus baby Julio. Larissa and Tiana are the oldest at sixteen, and Alejandra is fifteen. She’s Julio’s mother.”
“That’s young to have a baby.”
She nodded. “The girls who get involved with gang members often get pregnant. They don’t use contraceptives. Alejandra wanted more for her baby than life in amaraso she came here.”
“Was she a member?”
“Yeah. She didn’t like what they did, but there was little choice.”
“I’m surprised the government let her in. I thought they were cracking down on gang members.”
Zita’s annoyance flared and she tampered it. “It’s not like that. Where she was living it was safest to align herself with amara. But then a rival gang came in and killed a bunch of members and she realized her baby was at risk. If she stayed he’d be inducted, and she didn’t want that. The life expectancy for a gang member in El Salvador is about thirty-five.”
His eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. The situation is that bad. Can you understand why Alejandra left?”
He nodded. “I would have too.”
Zita relaxed. He understood. There were some people who refused to put themselves in the refugee’s shoes, refused to contemplate what it was like in these countries, and that made it almost impossible to help them understand why so many were fleeing to the United States. David’s empathy made him all the more attractive.
“Would you like to order coffee?” The waiter was back to collect their dessert plates.
“We could have coffee at my place.” David’s smile sent tingles through her.
She suspected it was a euphemism, but she was fine with that. She’d like to get him alone. “That sounds like fun.”
David turned to the waiter. “We’ll have the check, please.”
