“Sure, show me what to do?” I ask no one and them all at the same time.
“There’s nothing to it. I’m Peace.” The sister informs me. “I’m planting Love heirloom seeds the girls brought. They’re guaranteed to bloom or germinate, the twins say.”
“I thought y’all had to take names like Sister Mary Francis or Sister Frank.” I tilt my head in question.
“Well, I’ve not taken my final vows yet,” Peace says, her mouth curving into a little mou, making me realize she’s not that much older or younger than me. You can never tell with melanated people.
“Oh, okay. Well, show me what to do, Peace.”
By the timewe are done with our little row, I see Padre is no longer wearing his t-shirt like a second skin. Using it instead to wipe the hard ridges of his back. Turning, he steps past the guys he’s tilling soil with to saunter over to where the twins are working. Going to Crimson, he wordlessly hands her his t-shirt. Clover steps back, shaking her head with a grin, signs to her sister, “It’s up to you,” before busying herself spreading seeds. Crimson takes the t-shirt, steps behind Padre, and begins to remove the streams of sweat from his back in long, gentle sweeps. He hangs his head as if her touch is a blessing, even though the fabric separates them. I’m captivated, though it almost feels like I’m intruding on a private moment.
“Ohh, he’s gone for her,” Peace whispers as we watch as he takes the t-shirt she offers back and then bends low to whisper something for her ears only, making her blush as bright as her name.
The twins, for all their playing, constant chatter, and signing actually get more work done on the section they were working on than anyone else.
It seems they met Peace when she came by their apothecary and formed an immediate friendship with the novice and have made her an honorary Love cousin. They offered to help her with the victory garden she wanted to make for the church and community. Service projects are something many churchesaround here are known for, so she wanted to immediately work on her contribution.
“Let’s break for lunch,” Peace suggests when some of the church members show up and start setting up a long picnic table.
My tummy growls when I smell fried chicken. There’s also potato salad, burritos,
black-bean salad, and yeast rolls. There’s lavender lemonade and vanilla-rose red velvet cupcakes the twins brought.
After washing our hands and Rocco’s cussing tail, saying the blessing over the food, we dig in. The women all cluster together, while the guys seem content to hang down on the other end of the table, though they seem to be on alert.
“Um, why are they here?” Lowering my voice, I ask Crimson.
“You mean our shadows?” she signs with a roll of her eyes before continuing, “They’ve been stuck to us like glue since that little insurrection Angel and ‘em started.” She adds, casting a look Padre’s way. I follow, watching him take in her words, then huffing a laugh before turning his head away with a little shake.
“Yeah, but everything’s all good now that Easy is back with Angel and about to have another baby, and you and Snake made-up right?” Clover asks with a gentle eagerness that almost has me agreeing, but I’v never been a liar.
“Ah, not exactly.” Shaking my head at the crestfallen expressions the twins share, I take a bite of the delicious chicken and then the roll, hoping they will drop it.
No such luck, it seems, when Crimson taps my hand then, signs. “Why? He’s still mad about the misunderstanding? He won’t forgive you?”
“Excuse me?” I can’t stop the way my voice rises. “Sorry,” I hurry to add when I see Crimson flinching and covering her ears.
“Aye.” Padre’s voice is low with ominous warning, and the slow shake of his head communicates more than any shout ever would.
“Sorry, Crimson.” I apologize, feeling horrible. They entrusted me with an area where they feel safe, and I ruined it by being insensitive. “It won’t happen again.” I promise both girls.
“Okay, we forgive you.” Clover says, patting her sister exactly three times before moving her gaze back to me. “So y’all haven’t made up? Why?” Genuinely curious and maybe just a little messy like Kandie, I don’t know, but I use their cousin as my answer.
“Just like I’m sure Kandie hasn’t forgiven Ulysses.” I trail off when the twins give me looks of certain doubt. Easy, I can see. She just had a baby and all the emotions that come with that, plus she never saw those people being trafficked with her own eyes. Kandie doesn’t have the same excuse. Her, I’m judging.
“Uh-uh, aint no way,” I shake my head. “You mean she took back up with who she calls the dirty-ass cop? Why? — Sorry, sister.” I hurry to add to the Novice, who seems to eat up every word of what we’re saying.
“No worries.” She waves for us to continue, letting me know that every penance she has for being nosy definitely needs to be paid.
“Because they are innocent — at least of that. They aren’t traffickers. Folks saying y’all rolled up on a rescue mission and got it all turned around.” Crimson tells me, her eyes are soft like she’s trying to soften the impact of her words.
“What?” I look from both sisters in disbelief. This can’t be true. Why has no one said anything? I’ve only been around Snake. Aponi wouldn’t say anything out of loyalty and probably a healthy amount of fear. But Snake? At anytime he could have told the truth. If it is the truth.
Any thought of food flees at the possibility all of this could have been a huge mistake.
My phone vibrates.
Lourdes: Hey, I’m OMW to you, bestie.
