Cuevas-Blancas, Spain 1910.
On this new day, which was shaping up to be very hot, the sun was just starting to rise. It was flooding the room with a pale orange light. His circle, still pale, was visible at the limit between the sky and the water. The young woman contemplated at the scene with fascination. It seemed to her that he was unrolling out a red carpet on the surface of the water so that she could go join him.
The house would soon be filled with all these little noises she knew well. The discreet rustle of the maids' clothes pacing the upstairs hallways, the kitchen utensils clicking because they collide, the sound of heavy doors and footsteps in neighboring rooms, it was all familiar to him and was about to gradual startup.
She had counted every hour, punctuated by the large clock on the ground floor, of which she heard the regular chime.
Why had sleep abandoned her? She badly needed to sleep. She had given so much of her body, her air, her screams, her sweat. She had waited so long, hoping without believing until that night when she had almost given up, so much the pain had been acute. But today she had given birth to her first child and he was a son.
He was the culmination of all her hopes, of what she had held for, of what she had most desired in the world and he was finally here
He was the culmination of all her hopes, the reason why she had held out for, what she had desired the most in the world and he was finally there.
It was important that it be a boy. First for the family, but also for her, because she ardently wished it to be so. She preferred boys, who were more autonomous, more robust and, according to her, less difficult to raise.
Jesus was the son of God, and he had been his prophet. She had thus named him so likewise, besides it sounded well "Rrrrézuss" in Spanish. Nobody, not even Diego, would dare to stop her from choosing a biblical first name in this believing and practicing region.
Right now, looking at her sleeping son in her arms, she wondered how she would be able to live fully this day while she hadn't slept overnight.
Herchild in her arms, in these silky sheets, Isabel slipped into a beneficienttorpor, admiring this vast and beautiful chamber of the hacienda. From theflowered terrace which opened towards the luminous star, she contemplated thesunrise, like a road drawn towards a new life.
YOU ARE READING
Nacre's Promise
Historical FictionSUMMARY Can we imagine a happier life than the one we would spend between hills and sea, vineyards and citrus fields and with to the person we love? - Obviously, answers my heart - Of course not, the reason tells me! At the end of the 19th century...
