Excerpt: El baile de la gitana

19 Junio 1727 - Valencia, Spain

The air was thick with heat as she sat in the dirt just outside the front door. Sounds of Madre doing the wash around the corner filled her ears; the soft scrape as the fabric was pulled across the wooden washboard. She closed her eyes, imagining the sound belonged to the thundering hooves of wild horses. With a laugh she was on her feet skipping about in front of the house. From inside the doorway, a pair of dark eyes gazed at the girl as she jumped and spun about. Dust from the ground kicked up at her ankles, clinging to her skin. Her laughter grew louder as she raced the horses in her head, galloping faster and faster until the washboard stopped. A woman with long hair pulled from her face appeared from around the corner.

“Ana Lucia, niña. Why are you making these noises?”

The girl stopped moving, eyes flying open at her mother’s voice. Immediately, the child did her best to smooth her skirts and brush the dust from her feet.

“Lo siento, Madre. I was racing wild horses.”

“Horses? What horses?” An exasperated breath. “No more of these silly dreams. It is not fitting for a proper young lady.”

Ana Lucia bowed her head in embarrassment, twisting the hem of her skirts between her fingers. The pair of eyes from the house shone in the afternoon sun as a boy of about three teetered out. He watched his mother scold his sister.

“Now, come. You must wash before Padre arrives,” her mother ordered, ushering Ana Lucia around the side of the house. As she went, Ana Lucia ran her fingers along the firm stones in the wall. It was a good house, one her Padre built before she or her brother were born. Juan Marco scrambled after them, fearing being left behind. By the time both children rounded the back of the house, Madre had filled a basin with water.

“Niña, in the bath.”

Ana Lucia squirmed for a moment before pulling off her clothes and climbing in. She let out a yelp as the frigid water collided with her skin. Her teeth chattered almost instantly as her mother lathered her body with a filmy soap. A few paces away the three-year-old giggled at her sister’s displeased expression. Once she was lathered, Madre scrubbed her skin until it was close to raw.

“Let me see your hands,” Madre said.

Ana Lucia offered up her prune-like fingers for inspection. After a few minutes more of scrubbing, Madre was satisfied with the cleanliness of her daughter and allowed to her climb out of the water. A layer of dirt remained in the water. As quickly as she could, Ana Lucia gathered her clothing and ran inside. She dressed, listening to the sounds of her brother protest as Madre undressed him and dunked him in the water as well. She sat at the table near the fire pit and let the rest of the water evaporate from her skin. The bath had felt nice once she grew used to the coldness. It was a stark change from the heat of the day.

A short time later real horse hooves click-clacked on the road outside. She moved from her perch by the fire pit and stuck her head out the open doorway. She watched as a graceful mare rose over the crest of the hill, carrying Padre. A broad smile spread over her face as she sprinted to the back of the house.

“Madre! Madre!” she called.

“What are you shouting about now, niña?”

“Padre. He’s home!”