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That same afternoon, she settled into the foreman’s old cottage behind the stable. It was modest, but sturdy. Elena brought with her blankets, an old cradle that had belonged to a forgotten nephew, and goat’s milk for the twins.
From the very beginning, something changed on the estate.
Tomás worked as if he wanted to repay every tortilla with his sweat. He rose before dawn, repaired the fences, cleaned the ditches, built a new chicken coop, weeded the garden, and tended the cattle. Elena, accustomed to struggling alone, soon discovered the strange relief of having someone by her side without having to explain every difficulty.
While Tomás worked to bring life back to the countryside, Elena discovered she had an unexpected talent with children.
Mateo and Gael calmed down in her arms. They fell asleep lulled by the songs their mother sang to them as a child. When they cried, she simply rocked them against her chest to soothe them. Tomás watched her from the doorway for many afternoons, feeling something new and frightening stirring in his heart.
Hope.
Weeks turned into months.
The garden thrived. The cows grew fat. The barn roof stopped leaking. On the table in front of the stove, there was no longer just one plate, but three, and then four when the twins began eating their baby food amidst laughter and mess.
Elena discovered that she enjoyed listening to Tomás talk about his day while they ate dinner.
Tomás realized he was eagerly awaiting the moment when she would sit next to him in the hallway as evening fell, as the sky above Zacatecas turned orange.
“Now these lands really seem alive,” he said one afternoon, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“Now we two will take care of it,” Elena corrected her, handing her a glass of cold water.
Tomás smiled. It was a strange smile, still awkward, as if he wasn’t used to it.
—It’s been a long time since I felt like I belonged anywhere.
Elena looked down, but didn’t contradict him.