I make a decision then and there. I find you in the calachuchi grove, folding handkerchiefs.
“Maria!” I call.
You lift your head, your mouth slightly open. You rise to your feet as if you will totter and fall if you don’t move with a deliberate slowness. “What did you call me?”
For some reason, I want to run away. I press my toes into the dirt, however, and grit my teeth as if my soul will escape through my mouth. “Your name. Maria.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you say it.” You sound like you’re floating.
Abashed, I soldier on and enter the grove. “I want to give you something. Hold out your hand.”
Your eyebrows furrow in suspicion, but you do as I say. I unclasp my necklace and drop it on your palm. Your suspicion is gone, replaced by confusion.
“This necklace is magic,” I
