Love Takes Root: A contemporary romance novella

by Natasha Brown

  She sat up slowly and wiped dirt off her cheek. In one corner of the room sat a middle-aged woman hunched over a small iron stove. Her lips parted into a grin, revealing a bright smile. Her black hair was swept back in a bun, and her clothes were bright, albeit worn and faded.

  “Buenos días, María,” Kara repeated back, remembering her hostess’s name.

  Kara stretched her arms above her head, then reached for her toes. She squinted against the early morning light pouring in through the open windows of the house and glanced around the room, expecting to see Miles, but to her surprise, she was alone.

  She found herself hoping he was close by; the Spanish she’d learned was sketchy at best. She was hesitant to pronounce the words wrong. After a deep breath, she tried her best anyway. “Dónde Miles?”

  Maria rattled off in her native tongue, “El fue a buscar el carro.”

  Kara blinked, trying to replay in her mind what the pleasant woman had just said. Nothing sounded remotely like English or the words she’d memorized. Her blank stare appeared to coax Maria to venture another word, “Coche? Miles coche…”

  That did it. Of course, Miles must have left to get the car. She would have to make do without him for now, despite her pidgin Spanish and fear of failure.

  “Tienes hambre?” Maria asked and held out a chipped plate with an egg and beans on it.

  The smell of food made her stomach gurgle, although the smoke in the air caused her eyes to water. Her hostess hunched low over the small stove, squinting against the curl of gray exhaust from the fire.

  Kara coughed and leaned onto the balls of her feet to get up. Every bit of movement made her body ache. She took a few steps toward Maria and graciously accepted the food that was offered. Kara looked at her breakfast, wondering how to eat it without a fork when a tortilla was handed to her. Maria used a scooping motion with her hands up to her mouth.

  “Gracias,” Kara said before tearing off a piece of tortilla and dipping it into the beans. The flavor of the food made her even hungrier, reminding her of the times she’d gone camping as a child. Nothing compared to eating the most basic of foods after hiking up a mountain to make camp. She was dirty, sore and tired, but in that moment she was hopeful. Hopeful she could make a difference.

  After shoveling breakfast into her mouth, she handed the plate back to her hostess. She wanted to offer to help clean up, but didn’t know how to say the words. So she pointed at the dirty plate and iron skillet. Maria coughed, shook her head and shooed her out the doorway.

  Outside, she took in the sight of the village in the daylight. Down a slope into a grassy valley, other buildings were built on stilts. The forest they’d walked through to get here was just below the patchy road. Trees lined the hilltops, making everything lush and green.

  Kara scanned the landscape, wondering how many people lived in the village. If she had to guess, it wasn’t more than a hundred and fifty. She’d been too exhausted last night to ask Miles, plus he hadn’t volunteered any information. Hopefully he’d be more helpful and forthcoming today now that they were beginning their journey.

  Children of varied ages milled around a building raised on stilts at the base of the valley. Kara’s natural instinct to stay safe and protected lost out to her curiosity to see more of the village. As frightening as the articles about the dangers of Honduras had been, she knew these welcoming, friendly people couldn’t be responsible for the bad reputation. They had offered her a place to sleep and had fed her when they had so little.

  She gave one last look at Maria’s house before venturing down the hill in her hiking boots, wearing yesterday’s clothing. A narrow footpath led from one home to another. She felt the stares from each doorway she passed, although she tried to ignore the unease that made her stomach tighten. Instead, she muttered to herself, “Smile at them. You’re the outsider here.”

  A twentysomething woman with black hair that hung past her shoulders held a baby on her hip. The woman and child watched her walk by and after taking a deep shaky breath, Kara forced the corners of her lips up and said, “Buenos días.”

  The woman beamed at her and nodded. The sight of her smile gave Kara a boost of confidence. She could see the difference it made when she put in the effort, no matter whether she’d pronounced it inaccurately or not. Kara lifted her hand to wave as she went past.

  After that, she repeated her greetings with every person she saw. They all responded in the same manner, with kindness and curiosity. Soft sounds rustled from behind her, and she turned to find a couple young children following a few feet away. They giggled and pointed in response.

  When she arrived at the building on stilts, she realized why it had been elevated. The soil was spongy, and water pooled every time she took a step. A fetid aroma hung heavy in the air. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. Without warning, hands touched her lower back and she heard soft whispers. The children she’d seen playing around the structure surrounded her and were touching Kara’s pale skin.

  “Hola,” she said, feeling her heart sputter in surprise. Her shoulders and arms lifted, and she fought the urge to back away. Not that she could, since she was locked in. The sea of wide, curious eyes that enveloped her blinked in innocence, watching her every movement. Kara slowed her breathing and felt her muscles loosen.

  After the surprise wore off, she noticed their dirty hands and bare feet, which might not have been out of place on a child playing outside, but it made her wonder if they even had shoes, or if they were ever truly clean. It made her recall what Miles had said about their supply of soap being delayed.

  The children stood around her like they were waiting for something. Kara glanced up the hill to the well Miles had installed and formed an idea. She didn’t know how to tell the kids to follow her, so she started back up the trail toward Maria’s house and motioned for them to follow. Their little voices danced around her, and she felt like Mother Goose at the center of her flock.

  When she arrived at Maria’s, she ducked inside to grab her suitcase. Its wheels clattered on the ground as she dragged it behind her. Curious eyes stared at her luggage, then at her. The corners of her mouth curled up into a mischievous smile, and she walked toward the well.

  She’d come equipped to gain the people’s trust, but she couldn’t in good conscience withhold anything they needed. This might not be the village she’d come to build a relationship with, but that wasn’t going to stop her.

  Once she arrived at the spigot, she found a flat spot to lay her suitcase on its side. She entered the lock combination and lifted the lid. Soft whispers reached her ears. She could feel the children’s excitement, wondering what the gringa would pull out of her bag.

  Kara grabbed one of many rectangular boxes, opened it and slid out a smooth white bar. Her hands and body felt dusty and dirty. She needed a proper shower, but that wasn’t why she was standing at the well holding the biodegradable soap.

  A boy, who must have been around eight or nine, reached out to touch it. He asked, “Qué es eso?”

  His sweet, innocent brown eyes stared up at her. His oversized superhero shirt hung to his thighs, nearly covering his shorts. Kara knew the kids didn’t care if she sounded like a foreigner, so she tried to speak the words she’d learned specifically for this moment. “Es jabón.”

  Kara walked to the hand pump and leaned into it until water poured from the spigot. She reached her hands out to capture some, then rubbed them and the soap together until she worked up a good lather. The soap was placed carefully on the cement block beneath her before she rubbed the bubbles against her face. Unable to open her eyes, she sputtered, “Agua, por favor…”

  More giggles rang out around her. Drops of water streamed onto her feet. She reached her hands out to cup the liquid and brought it to her face. Once the suds were gone and her chin was left dripping, she said, “I’m all clean—limpio, sí?”

  The kids clapped like she’d just performed a magic trick, but Kara wasn’t done yet. She motioned for t
hem to come closer. She picked up the soap from the cement and created more lather. Then she reached for the little boy’s hands who had asked about the soap. She transferred the bubbles onto his skin and motioned for him to do what she’d demonstrated.

  Soon all of the children were clustered around her, begging for their own bubbles. Kara put soap on their hands, then had another idea. Lathered with handfuls of white foam, she tentatively reached out to a nearby child and touched them to his chin, creating a foamy beard. His confused frown changed when the others started giggling and struck out their own chins to get matching facial bubbles. From there, frothy mustaches and hats joined their faces and heads. They all thought it was hilarious and had fun trying to wash them off.

  A very serious little girl stood away from them all, her little hands clutched together against her body. The fearless boy noticed Kara looking at her and said, “Esa es mi hermana. Ella tiene miedo de gringos.”

  Kara didn’t know exactly what he’d said, but thought hermana meant sister and that was enough for her to fill in the rest. She whispered back to the boy, “Her name? Qué llamas?”

  He puffed up his chest. “Soy Pedro y ella se llama Lily.”

  She looked at the precious girl, a good five years younger than her brother. Her full cheeks and long lashes made her appear angelic. A stained white T-shirt clung to her round belly while she returned Kara’s stares.

  With the soap still in hand, Kara created a lather, then handed the bar to Pedro with a wink. She reached out for a little more water and got to work. Pointer finger to thumb, Kara blew gently until an iridescent balloon formed. It broke free, lifted into the air and carried down to Lily’s outstretched finger. At the same moment it popped, a shriek of happiness broke from the little girl’s lips. Her mouth formed a circle and she squealed, “Más! Más!”

  The other children who’d seen the magical bubble float through the air begged for one too. Kara entertained them until she showed the older kids how to do it for themselves. Happy seeing the children cleaning themselves and enjoying it, she realized they had a full audience. Adults, some presumably parents, watched from the trail. She smiled and waved in response.

  A tall, slender man grinned back and walked up to the well. He held his hand out to her and said, “Soy profesor de la escuela, Armando.”

  Again, she didn’t understand everything that was spoken, but she did recognize the words teacher and school. Surprisingly, even without Miles, she was getting by on her own. She tried her best to introduce herself, which probably sounded horrible to Armando’s ears. He showed no sign of disgust, however, and only beamed in response.

  When he continued to speak, she listened closely, picking up something about hygiene, kids, soap and difficult. From what Miles had told her last night, she understood they didn’t have their soap delivered yet. She went to her suitcase and pulled out more than twenty boxes and handed them to Armando, whose jaw dropped in surprise.

  From behind, a deep voice asked, “What’s going on?”

  Chapter 3

  Miles left the car parked on the side of the road and walked through the grass toward the crowd of people. When he’d driven up, the kids’ laughter had risen above the purr of the engine. Although the well hadn’t been there long, its novelty didn’t usually draw a crowd, so he was curious to see what was happening.

  Kara’s back was turned to him, but beside her Armando was struggling to balance an armload of small white boxes. When he heard Miles, he exclaimed in Spanish, “Kara has given me so much soap. Can you believe it? I can teach the children about the importance of hygiene—like we talked about!”

  “She—what?” Miles was speechless.

  Armando nearly dropped a box and began to laugh. “She really is quite a surprise. You should bring more gringos around like her.”

  Miles stared at the contents of her suitcase, which was spread open for all to see. Nowhere did he see hairdryers, makeup or clothes. Although he couldn’t see half of what was packed away, since it was wrapped with brown paper, it was obvious she hadn’t come equipped with items for herself. Not unless she really liked soap.

  She turned around to look at him, and he said the first thing that came to mind. “You didn’t tell me what was in your bag.”

  Kara’s eyebrow arched. She crossed her arms before answering, “You never asked. I didn’t realize you worked for customs.”

  Pedro ran between them with a stream of kids following behind, giggling and laughing. Unaware of the conversation between the English speakers, Armando said, “I want to show Kara the school—would you ask her to follow me?”

  Miles cleared his throat and nodded. Kara must have heard her name, because she looked between the two men, eyes wide.

  “Armando would like to show you the school.”

  She smiled at the teacher in response, then leaned down to close her suitcase. With the handle grasped in her hand, she followed Armando down the trail, past the other villagers. Miles noticed the kids making bubbles and showing their parents the bar of soap that had been left behind at the well before he continued after Kara.

  People didn’t surprise him very often. He considered himself equipped with an accurate lie detector. He could sense who was being real and who put on airs. Who was guided by bureaucracy and red tape and who actually cared to help. Maybe he’d been off about her. Just maybe.

  When they passed Maria’s house, Kara tucked her suitcase inside the house before continuing. Armando happily chattered away in Spanish to her about whose houses they were passing, and she nodded in response. It was obvious to Miles she was just being polite and didn’t understand what he was saying. But after considering the fact that he was supposed to be her guide and interpreter, he sighed and began to highlight what the school teacher was saying. Kara didn’t direct her attention to him while he spoke, but to Armando.

  They reached the bottom of the basin, where the elevated school stood on its stilts. A long ramp, constructed of wood, led them into the single-room building. Miles wasn’t fond of visiting the bottom of the slope because the horrible smell from the stagnant water never seemed to drain away. He couldn’t imagine how the kids felt about going to sit in a room that smelled this bad.

  Kara seemed to be thinking the same thing. Her nose wrinkled up, and he could tell she was trying to be subtle about holding her breath. Armando didn’t appear to notice, because he was too busy setting down the boxes of soap beside a simple bookshelf that held a small number of books and notepads. A chalkboard hung on one of the walls. The alphabet was written in careful, tidy handwriting. He said to Miles, “I will make sure all the children wash before school, like we discussed—even the little ones.”

  “I know you will,” Miles answered.

  Kara’s hands clasped together while she took in her surroundings. “How many students does he have?”

  Miles didn’t have to ask Armando. He knew the answer. “He teaches all the children in the area from the age of seven to fourteen. About thirty-five kids come here. Half are from this village and the rest hike in the mile or more it takes to get an education.”

  Kara nodded and remained quiet. Armando held up a book to show her, his white teeth flashing between his lips. Very carefully, he spoke the English words, “The little engine that could.”

  She clapped her hands together and responded, “Excelente!”

  Okay, so maybe she knew two Spanish words, Miles thought. Hello and excellent. At this rate, she might pick up one new word a day.

  While he was still in thought, Kara turned to him and stated, “So, all of the girls grow up to help their mothers in the home, and the boys go try to find a job or a way to make money with their fathers. And these few books and the chalkboard are all Armando has to prepare them for a life of poverty.”

  “That sums it up. But at least they’re not getting sick from the water anymore.” Miles couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. This was a subject he could go on and on about. It was like what his mom would c
omplain about when his dad fixed up the house. Once one thing was updated, everything else looked dingier. It was the same thing for him here and at all of the other villages he’d ever helped. Once you put in a well, for instance, so much more was needed, but the people were so happy about simply having clean water, they wouldn’t complain about the other ways their lives could improve. But Miles was never satisfied with only fixing one thing when more could be done.

  He tapped his foot on the plank flooring. Gaps between the boards filtered the smell from outside. “I don’t have the money or wood to rebuild the school, but I want to fill in the cracks—seems inconsequential, but there’s so much to do.”

  And this was only one of the villages he was helping. No single village needed more than another, although they all had their own struggles. From Kara’s silence, he figured this had been enough reality for her. She wasn’t here to help this village. It was too small to qualify for her nonprofit’s support. They needed to get going anyway. The location that needed United Rainforest Fund’s help was expecting them.

  Before he could suggest they leave, footfalls clamored along the ramp to the school. Pedro appeared with his little sister behind him. He walked right up to Kara and grasped her hand, then led her out of the building.

  She looked over her shoulder at Miles and Armando. “What’s happening?”

  He had no idea what was in store, but enjoyed seeing her stumble behind the boy as she tried to stay with him. Miles walked down the ramp and jogged to keep up. Pedro only let go of her hand when he seemed confident that Kara understood she was supposed to follow him. The boy led them across the valley, past bushes and wiry trees until they reached a small thatched hut. Sugarcane grew in rows on the land surrounding it, as well as green leafy plants with bean pods.

  “Come inside,” Pedro called in Spanish over his shoulder. “I have something for you.”

  Kara’s emerald eyes filled with curiosity and a touch of fear. Miles guessed she wasn’t often led through the jungle and dragged inside a stranger’s home.