Santo was worried about Miraluz. He wanted to defend her, but she wasn’t making sense.

—Santo, take Miraluz home.

—Explain to me, Don Chan, how is it that I believe in you, when you’re such a coward?

She wanted him to hold her, help her sleep through the night, and be like other women her age, who thought about first kisses and their favorite shade of lipstick.

—Santo! Don Chan yelled. —Take Miraluz home. Your mouth will get you killed before you can do any good. How do you think we cultivated our garden? Con la mente. Don Chan pointed at his head. —By working together. He clasped his hands. —Now we’re no longer hungry. That is something we can be proud of. The time will come when you can sacrifice your life, if that’s your desire, but if you want to be one of us, then I suggest you do as I say. If not, go home and take care of your grandmother.

Miraluz refused to put up with Don Chan’s condescending talk about her going to take care of her grandmother, as if she were a child. She walked away from him through the woods, toward her grandmother’s house. Santo chased after her.

—Wait for me.

—Go be your father’s pet. What’s the point if I’m not allowed to disagree with him? He might as well be Trujillo, she said, pushing shrubbery aside, kicking the dirt, the dried branches scratching at her legs.

—That’s not fair, Miraluz. My father has always encouraged you to speak your mind.

—As if I need his permission, she snapped back.

—Why are you so angry? What’s going on with you?

Santo grabbed her shoulders, turning her around so he could get a better look at her. The fruits weren’t being eaten fast enough. They were rotting at their feet. The soil was still damp from the recent rain. They could hear the faint music from a radio in one of the houses. She wasn’t like any other woman he had ever met. She carried an impenetrable darkness, and yet she was fire that caught on and swelled, dangerous and beautiful at the same time.

—I hate him.

Miraluz pounded softly on Santo’s chest, not understanding her fury.

—You’re just anxious because so much is changing.

Santo caressed her face, lifting her head so he could look into her eyes. —But we must be patient.

—I never want to see him again.

—But what will he do without you? No one else talks to him the way you do. I think he likes it.

Miraluz pushed Santo against a tree. —Why do you follow me around all the time?

—I don’t follow you. I walk with you because it’s the decent thing for a man to do. Besides, I thought you liked my company. Why else would you kiss me good night the way you do?

Miraluz looked Santo over, his lean and tall build. His hair was long enough to tuck behind his ears. He was taller than his father, more handsome, a lot less balls. She grabbed them to see how big they were.