There was no denying it, for all of her talk of home, she had to admit that she hadn’t made much of one here. Even the real reason she had left home had been tossed aside while she wandered around and tried to find her way.
Abuela would understand, she was sure—but not her father and mother—so she had traveled north and west until she ended up in California. San Francisco had been an eye-opener. Bright colors and flamboyant minds all caught up in exploring passion and fire, she had never been to a place so active and alive. She had abandoned her skirts for jeans and fell in love with the crazy colors of the rainbow—and found out she had an addiction to tie-dye. She felt like a butterfly, beautiful and unique among others beautiful and unique. Yet still, the smell of burning sage was enough to call to her, to make her push against the flow of humans streaming around her until she found the last tent in the last row of this small farmer’s market.
She ducked under the awning and stepped into the past. Rows of herbs and spices, all labeled and bagged inside small woven baskets, sat neatly on a small table to the right. She looked around. There was so much stuffed beneath the twelve foot square space she couldn’t even see a sliver of sunlight or trees from inside. Her sandals scuffed along faded rugs that layered end to end the length and breadth of the space. She could imagine such a place sitting along the edge of the desert, any desert, it didn’t matter. She could practically smell the flint in the air.
Colorful skirts, shirts, and scarves hung from racks around her. She stopped and ran her fingertips along the thin cotton of a sleeveless sundress, unusual in that it was almost ankle length. It was beautiful, loose and flowing at the bottom and fitted in just all the right places. A deep burgundy color except for a band of color along the hem that reminded her of a red sun wrapped in rings of midnight flames, it was a dress she could see wearing on a first date. A walk along a riverbank somewhere, barefoot with her toes digging into the sand and the right woman there to help her over the rocks too large to step across on her own.
Someone pushed aside a wall hanging and let in a bright streak of sunlight. She squinted against the sudden brightness, the image of a tallish woman with blonde hair flickered as an afterimage then faded away. She blinked away the spots dancing in front of her and blurring her vision.
“Can I help you?”
The familiar, almost sing-song inflection in the woman’s voice made her answer without thinking, the courtesy trilling off her tongue as easily as rain fell from the sky. “Si, Senora, Como Estas?”
“Estoy bien. I’m fine, thank you.” The woman returned the greeting with a graceful nod. Dark eyed and raven haired, the Hispanic woman looked nothing like the image that still danced inside her skull. She was however, observing her with open interest. She ran her hand along the fabric and did it as if she was caressing a lovers arm, then slid her eyes down the length of Maria’s body. “Do you like this dress? It seems like it would be a good fit for you.”
Maria shivered. The offer was obvious, bold even, and difficult to say no to. She looked and smelled like home. “I…”
She was interrupted by the sound of feet pounding across the hard ground and a whirlwind whipping into the tent in the form of a small girl who found it difficult to brake in time before she ran full force into Maria.
“Rowan! Slow down before you hurt someone or yourself.”
“But I found the place, Stacie! I told you I would,” Rowan bellowed, then looked up at the two women staring down at her. “Hi, Bianca. My mom couldn’t make it so Stacie is here with me. Hi, I’m Rowan. Sorry I bounced into you. You won’t tell Stacie? I was promised ice cream an’ I don’t wanna miss ice cream.”
Maria’s mouth dropped open. The little girl was cute as hell, and she knew how to pout and look endearing at the same time. Solemn gray eyes stared up at her. At complete odds with her freckles and reddish auburn hair, they beseeched Maria not to tell on her.
“You didn’t hurt me, little one.” Maria winked, joining in on the conspiracy.
“You sound like Bianca. Is she your girlfriend?” Rowan asked with all the innocence only a child could muster.
“Rowan!”
To say that the voice behind her sounded scandalized beyond belief was an understatement. Bianca smirked, her dark eyes glittered and the corner of her mouth twitched until she bit her lip. Maria knew how she felt. It was very difficult not to laugh aloud. Whatever possessed her to think that they were…? Oh. A tall, blonde woman ducked beneath a scarf hanging over the entranceway. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail as casual and relaxed looking as her clothes. A loose gray and brown sleeveless flannel shirt hung open over a simple black tank top. Levi’s and broken in boots finished the outfit. The woman inside those clothes wasn’t quite as relaxed. She seemed awkward inside her own skin. Not gawky, Maria thought, the woman was well past that stage in life. The part of her that wanted to feed the world noted her lean form, the whipcord muscles beneath an honest farmer’s tan. Without having to ask, Maria knew she was a woman who worked for a living and didn’t care to hide it, but didn’t eat enough unless there was someone around to remind her. Light brown eyes skimmed across hers, then looked away almost immediately, as if embarrassed they had held her gaze at all. The intelligence behind them instantly intrigued her. There was
