'I'm Anana,' the girl greeted Kara as Pietro's wife and son climbed into the wagon with a curt, grateful nod from his wife. 'My husband, Santiago, calls me Ananas.'
Kara laughed in response as the two girls watched the wagons depart, Kara with some regret that she wasn't going along. 'You certainly don't look like a prickly pineapple,' Kara said.
'Oh, I was when we were first married, until I laid down a few rules,' Anana told her. 'I'm used to a little freedom, and I wasn't about to lose that, husband or no. I had to let Santiago know that I'm his wife, not his servant.'
'Did you actually fight with him?' Kara asked, a little wide-eyed.
'Not really. I shot a cigar out of Santiago's mouth when he began ordering me about the day after we were married. Miguel! Don't torment the chickens or they won't lay! Most of you have chores to do, so snap to it! The little ones come with us into the house. Oh, dear! Will you catch that little devil before he actually manages to catch that bee, Kara? Thank you! Now's lets all go inside, shall we? Yes, I'm a good shot,' Anana said proudly. 'Santiago needed a little reminder of the fact! A woman with a temper who can shoot straight is too much an asset to be taken for granted on this island.'
'Didn't . . . didn't your husband . . . well . . . didn't your husband get angry and beat you when you shot at him?' Kara asked her, scandalized.
'If Santiago ever beat me,' Anana told her, 'he would wake up dead the next morning, and he knows it! But no, he loves me for what I am. Instead, I am sure that is when he gave me little Michel here.' She laughed when she noticed Kara's expression. 'You're not married yet, are you!'
'No, I am not,' Kara answered her faintly, 'and I don't think that I ever shall be.'
Anana scrutinized her up and down with a thoughtful expression at that, Michel balanced on one hip. 'You're an odd sort of girl, Kara. You strike me as being well-bred and well-educated, but no stranger to hard work. You're at least half Greek, so your father is probably . . . I would say, a merchant, or something like that. And your mother . . . you have an odd bone structure to your face because of the mix so it is hard to tell . . . but I would say that your mother is Irish or something like that.'
'English, but close enough,' Kara replied, impressed.