Love Takes Root: A contemporary romance novella

by Natasha Brown

  “Maria’s cooking does that to me too,” Miles said and joined her in stretching out on the canvas. “Except I don’t often stop. There’s always so much to do.”

  “I guess,” Kara said, “but there will always be stuff to do. Sometimes you just need to take the time to find yourself before getting lost again.”

  “You often find yourself lost?” he joked, tilting his head to look at her.

  “I’d have to leave the house for that to happen,” Kara answered in seriousness.

  “Said the woman lying beside an unlabeled, one-lane road in the middle of Honduras.” Miles’s brows pulled together as he spoke.

  “True.” Kara still couldn’t believe she was really so far from home. “So, why are you here?”

  “My job?” He said it like it was the obvious answer to her question.

  Kara rolled onto her stomach and reached for a blade of grass. “I know your job is to put in wells for Hydration Foundation. I mean, it’s obvious you care about helping people. Did you always want to do this?”

  “To be honest, I was considering changing my job until I thought about all the cash I could make with nonprofits.” He arched his brow and swatted at a mosquito.

  She waited for a proper answer. She hoped if she was quiet long enough, he’d break through the humor and be serious. It paid off.

  “Fine.” He rolled over as well, his strong arms braced to hold up his torso. “My family owns a hydraulic engineering company in Colorado. There was never any question what I was going to college to study. They didn’t make me do it, but it was always assumed—even by me—that I would be an engineer too. That I’d take over the business. Only problem was, when I graduated from CU Denver, I realized I hated it.”

  “Really?” Kara questioned.

  Miles cast a hardened gaze at the hillside, then said matter-of-factly, “Yeah. My parents weren’t too happy, but after a hard discussion, they told me to hold off making any quick decisions and to take time to figure things out. My dad said he didn’t want me resenting him or myself the rest of my life. A buddy had a surfing trip planned to Belize, so I went with him. It was supposed to get my mind off engineering, but the plan backfired.”

  “How so?”

  “When we were off-roading, we passed through small villages that didn’t have running water. Women and children had to walk to the closest town for potable water, forcing kids to miss out on an education. Poor hygiene was causing sickness and death. Something changed inside of me.”

  Kara breathed out. “I can see that.”

  “That’s why when I got home from my trip I found my first nonprofit.”

  “They were lucky to get you,” Kara answered, staring at a beetle the size of her palm trudging through the grass.

  Miles waved away another mosquito. “Yeah, they might not feel the same way. I left after a couple months when they made it clear they didn’t like how I communicated with upper management and the bureaucrats, or asshats as I call them. So I left. I didn’t like working in an office where I was just moving paperwork, wasting my time instead of actually helping people. I may be good at what I do, but I’m known for making waves.”

  “Well, you’re here now, and it’s clear you get things done. How’d you go from that to working in Honduras?”

  “I went from one nonprofit to the next until I met Dave Billings. Don’t get me wrong, all of the places I worked cared about making a difference, but they didn’t understand how I was best used. Sitting behind a desk making plans for others isn’t my thing. Dave understood that about me. Despite my less-than-glowing recommendation from my previous job, he sent me on-site to Puerto Rico for a few months. Working in the dirt, helping people firsthand—I stayed out of trouble, mostly.”

  A smile must have crept onto Kara’s face, because when Miles looked at her, he commented, “Unbelievable, right?”

  She decided not to answer.

  “What about you?” he asked. “It’s obvious you’re out of your element. Why’d you come—to keep your job?”

  Kara should have known better. Her question naturally would be mirrored back at her. She thought carefully about her answer, trying to choose how much to reveal. “I’ve been working so hard designing this conservational program, it was disappointing thinking about someone else getting it off the ground.”

  “Is that code for ‘my boss made me go’?” he joked.

  “No.” The pain from two months ago unleashed itself in her heart. Tears threatened to pour from her eyes, but she breathed slow until the pain subsided enough for her to speak. Her voice wavered. “It was because of a note from my father. That’s what pushed me to decide to come.”

  Miles must have heard the emotion in her voice, because he asked in a soft tone, “Is he…gone?”

  Kara forced air from between her puckered lips and found something to focus on—a loose thread on the canvas blanket beneath her. She twisted it between her fingers. “Yeah, he passed away from cancer just after I started my freshman year at UC Berkeley, eight years ago. I was on my way to earning a degree in plant biology when I was suddenly on my own.”

  “Wow, sorry—what about your mom?”

  “Well,” she said, “my mom passed away when I was three, so I don’t have many memories of her. That just means I have twice as many with Dad, I guess—he was my best friend. It was just the two of us for almost as long as I can remember.”

  “You found a letter going through his house or something?”

  “He left me the home I grew up in. It’s just a short drive to Berkeley from Mill Valley, on a forested hill that catches the morning sunlight from the east. You should see my gardens—so lush and happy—the deer are too, with the healthy diet I provide. Anyway, when he died, I couldn’t bring myself to move into his room, so I turned it into my greenhouse and study.”

  “And that’s where you found the note,” Miles guessed.

  Kara could have stopped there. She didn’t often find herself talking to anyone, except for the plants that filled her house. But for some reason, she continued, “I’ve always loved plants—for our symbiotic relationship. Without them, we couldn’t survive. Dad supported me in everything I did—if it was playing the xylophone at four, or being a professional butterfly catcher at eight. He showed me how to grow my own garden. Dad always said that if you buried a wish under the roots of a plant, it would come true—I thought it was magic for the longest time. Many of the houseplants we potted together, but there was one he planted alone while I was at a college lecture.” A tear curled down her face. Kara rested her cheek against her palm, trying to be subtle while wiping the salty drop away. “A trained ficus sat in the corner of his room, and I never moved it, but it got root-bound, so I took it out to transplant. When I did, I found a small metal box. Inside I found his note. It was dated a month before he passed away and it was addressed to me. Guess he knew I’d find it someday.”

  Miles looked at her, but remained quiet. She didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know what to say or because he was afraid to say the wrong thing, although she was thankful for the silence. No words could fill the hole that her father’s death had left.

  Kara had already said more than she’d intended to. She didn’t want to be pitied, but most of all, she wasn’t used to opening up such a painful wound in front of someone she barely knew—or anyone at all. But for some reason, she felt like she could speak frankly with him.

  Her father’s scrawled handwriting filled her thoughts. The note was his final gift to her. “I will do everything I can to make Dad’s last wish come true.”

  She’d known when she’d read it, tears covering her face, that she couldn’t follow his wish for her from the confines of her home, no matter how frightened she was. Kara would have to leave the nest and fly.

  “All right, your story wins hands down,” Miles said decidedly. “Whatever that wish is, I’m sure you’ll do what you can to make it come true. But for now, we’ll have to get moving so you can claim your pa
tch of ‘bed’ in El Punto. It’s ladies’ choice tonight.”

  Kara had expected him to ask about her father’s wish and was relieved he hadn’t. She watched him get up and hold his hand out to her. She rolled into a sitting position, then accepted his help. His muscles tensed as he lifted her off the ground. “We still have some steep roads to travel. It’s always best to leave extra time to get where you need to go for those flat-tire moments. There won’t be an auto shop or superstore along the way.”

  Miles’s hand lingered on hers when they stood facing each other. His skin was rough and warm, leaving her fingers tingling with sensation. His hazel eyes locked with hers, and the words he’d just spoken evaporated from her thoughts. Kara let her hand fall to her side and forced her gaze to the banana trees growing in the field beside them. It was nothing like home in the Bay Area. Lush, yes, but so far from the world of chain grocery stores on every corner. She cleared her throat. “We’d better get going then. You’ve built up this whole dinner and sunset. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  Kara was glad Miles moved as slow as he did through the steep terrain. The road was so narrow she was relieved they didn’t pass another car the whole way. She lost track of time while they drove through the countryside, playing a silent game of plant-spotting from the passenger seat. Caught in her own thoughts, she was startled to hear Miles say, “Looks like we might have another passenger. He’s probably not a drug-dealing murderer, but even if he is, in the backcountry it would be rude not to offer a ride.”

  Kara’s eyes widened as she searched Miles’s face for a sign of a joke. He wasn’t grinning wickedly, but squinting out the window. Her heartbeat increased and again, horror stories from the Internet filled her thoughts. The car slowed and she changed her focus to the figure walking along the dirt road. A man in jeans, a T-shirt and a straw cowboy hat turned to look at them. His ivory teeth flashed between his lips in a curious smile. Miles pulled up beside him and rolled down Kara’s window. Kara couldn’t enjoy his muscular torso leaning across her to speak Spanish to the traveler because she was too anxious about losing the pane of glass that had protected her from the stranger. After the two men had a short conversation, they shook hands and Miles spun around to move her backpack over on the backseat.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, trying to stay calm when the back passenger door opened.

  The young twentysomething man slid in behind her, and Miles said, “Meet Elías. Enmanuel Santos—the man who’s putting us up for the night—well, this is his nephew. He’s going to El Punto also.”

  “Oh,” Kara breathed out, relieved Miles knew him. She spun around in her seat. “Buenos días. Soy Kara.”

  “Señorita.” He avoided eye contact, and his cheeks flushed.

  She turned around to ask Miles, “How long’s he been walking?”

  As soon as Elías closed his door, Miles started down the road again. Each bump and pock on their path was felt, although it was clear their guest was happy to have the break from walking. Miles’s fluency with the language was obvious as the men had a long conversation. Kara wished she’d put more time into learning Spanish but was thankful to have Miles with her to bridge the communication gap.

  After a pause, Miles answered her previous question, “He’s walking from his village to help his uncle on his ranch. It’s a two-hour walk. We just cut it in half, so he’s pretty happy.”

  “Is that normal around here—walking so far?”

  “Oh, yeah. Not many own cars in these rural areas, so most people walk. Kids have to go on foot to the closest school if they want an education, and women have to walk to get water from the closest well, which could be a mile or more. It’s just part of their daily lives.”

  She adjusted in her seat to face Miles. “So, you know his uncle?”

  He nodded. “You’ll meet him. He’s the largest landowner and has the biggest ranch in town. He’s the one you’ve got to convince that bamboo’s the solution to his problems. If he signs, then the rest of the village should follow.”

  “So, it’s not such a bad thing we ran into his nephew on the road. You know, I might have some gum in my backpack,” Kara said and spun around in her seat. She leaned over her seat to reach into one of the zippered pockets. With the pack of gum in hand, she held a piece out to Elías.

  “I don’t know how to say gum in Spanish—can you help me out?” she asked Miles.

  “It’s going to take more than candy to win him over,” he teased before translating.

  The young man grinned at her and muttered, “Sí.”

  Elías’s eyes avoided hers when he accepted the strip of gum from her hand. She turned around in her seat, facing forward when she heard him speak to Miles. From his intonation, she could tell he asked a question. Miles responded to him, then paused as he looked at her. “He asked if you’re taken. I don’t see a ring, but I wasn’t sure…”

  Heat rose to Kara’s cheeks. It wasn’t the fact the young man had asked if she was single, it was the curiosity in Miles’s eyes that made her chest tight and her palms clammy. Maybe she was just imagining things. She certainly didn’t have much experience with men—the pain from loss was something she didn’t relish, which was why she preferred remaining alone. Since she kept to her house, the longest speaking relationship she’d had with the opposite sex since her dad had died was with her mailman, a sixty-year-old man with whom she’d gone as far as discussing the weather on several occasions.

  She pressed her hands together and said, “I’m not seeing anybody.”

  Kara couldn’t be sure, but she thought Miles stifled a smile before he spoke to Elías. She also thought she heard the words yes and man, but wasn’t confident. Before she could stop herself, she heard herself saying, “I would imagine it’d be hard to have a long-distance relationship with someone back in the States, working here for so long.”

  The conversation between the men stopped when Miles said with a level voice, “A long-distance relationship would be hard, if I could find a woman patient enough to deal with me, or one I valued over anything else in my life. I tried it, but it didn’t work out since the only thing on my mind is my job, and I don’t see that changing.”

  “Yeah, I never found anything more important to me than my work,” she answered.

  “Anyone?”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  His eyes locked onto her. “You never found anyone more important. Right?”

  Kara’s throat went dry. “Right.”

  “Well, you’ve left the house, so anything’s possible now.”

  Chapter 5.

  The drive down the sloped mountainside revealed an open valley. Grass and exposed soil covered the rolling hillside. Scrub and bushes dotted high points of the land. Miles spotted the fronds of banana trees surrounding bean and corn crops, revealing the edge of El Punto. A few concrete buildings came into view, and a collarless dog darted across the street. Soft light filled the sky as the sun hung low on the horizon.

  They’d finally made it. The roads were rough, which meant it had been slow going, but they’d arrived without incident. Miles breathed a sigh of relief. Every time he made it safely to his destination, he was thankful. Although he’d teased Kara about her fear of her surroundings yesterday, they were entirely realistic. It wasn’t safe to wander off the beaten path since drug cartels had moved their operations to the wilds of Honduras.

  He slowed the car to a crawl as they bumped in and out of potholes. More structures came into view. A small shop with a faded painting of a woman drinking a soda on its porous exterior wall stood next door to a whitewashed church. Opposite them sat the town hall, a concrete building with a thatched roof, along with the tiny schoolhouse. A row of benches and chairs, filled with men and women of varied ages, lined the street. Smiles were turned their way as they drove through the center of town, and he waved in response.

  They went past the path that led up to the well he’d put in. The edge of the cement block and the gleam of
the hand pump’s metal handle could be seen from the road. Just beyond that point, Miles turned onto the drive that led to Enmanuel Santos’s ranch. Coffee trees grew in a thicket on their right. Their russet beans cascaded in bunches from between green leaves.

  “Here we are,” he said as they rolled up to a concrete building with a battered pickup truck parked outside. He honked his horn twice before stopping beside the truck.

  Familiar faces appeared in the doorway of the house. One of the women called out, and Enmanuel’s tall form walked around the side of the home. He wore a cowboy hat like Elías’s, a button-up short-sleeved shirt and dirty jeans. The coppery skin of his face creased into deep wrinkles, showing his fifty years of age.

  “How’s it going, Mr. Santos,” Miles called in Spanish out the window. He placed the keys above the visor, then unbuckled and climbed out.

  Enmanuel waved and walked slow and steady to the car, giving Elías and Kara enough time to get out of the vehicle as well.

  “Hello, Miles,” his deep, smooth voice answered in the native tongue as he shook hands with him. “Nothing new since you left El Punto. The sun still rises and sets. I see you found my nephew on the road.”

  Miles glanced over at Kara, who watched them with her hands clasped. Her eyes revealed she was deep in thought—likely trying to determine what was being said. When he’d met her yesterday, he’d assumed she only knew a few choice words. As the day had gone on, she’d used a handful of common phrases. It was likely she knew a little, but he could tell she couldn’t follow Spanish very well, as she’d proven in the car.

  “Good evening, Uncle,” Elías said and went to offer his hand. “Miles saved me time walking on the road, and I got to sit near the pretty woman. Too bad she already has a man.”

  Enmanuel slapped his nephew on the back of his head in a playful gesture. “If you stopped thinking about women, you might make a better rancher. Go round back and get your cousins for dinner.”