THE SECRET
Three days passed.
Joaquim didn’t send her into the coffee fields.
Instead, every evening after sunset, he came to the stable.
The first night, he brought a sack of beans.
The second night, he brought a wooden box.
On the third night, he brought an old broken wagon wheel.
Benedita watched silently.
“What are you doing?” she finally asked.
“Testing something.”
“What?”
“Your hands.”
She looked down at them.
Her hands were enormous.
Scarred.
Calloused.
Swollen from years of work.
“They say I’m strong,” she said.
“They are.”
“They say I’m dangerous.”
Joaquim shook his head.
“They say many things.”
He placed the broken wheel in front of her.
“Fix it.”
Benedita stared at him.
“I don’t know how.”
“You’ve repaired tools before.”
She hesitated.
Then she picked up the wheel.
For the next hour, Joaquim said nothing.
He watched.
Benedita examined the wood.
