Nadia’s hand fluttered when the boy careened through them, narrowly resisting the urge to reach out and ruffle his unkempt hair as he passed—he was moving too quickly for it, anyhow. But for one fleeting moment, she was reminded of the children back home, running grubby and barefoot and pell-mell through the tilting streets of Rocinha. Once again, though this wasn’t her home, the place struck a disorienting chord with her: it was still a home. She could spot glimmers of the warmth and community that she also liked so well about the library.
“The moonshine is Bishop’s?” she said in surprise at Bunny’s information, now impressed. Ah. Hence the mysterious supplier, and thus Nate’s careful tiptoeing around that particular topic when she asked. But her face had brightened, and the woman turned to shaggy-headed Bode with genuine delight now lighting her eyes. “I know it is not Nate’s favourite, but the apple pie was mine. It tasted exactly like a dessert, I don’t understand how you could make such a thing. Ours back home was sweet, but never so much. If I could trade you some for it, I would gladly do so.”
The anxiety was starting to melt a little, as she spent time with the group; it was hard to remain tense when there were so many women and children around. They were hard-bitten, yes, but there was an air of ragtag family here.