Summer Dreams

by Hebby Roman

  "Teaching can be tiresome, but it's still what I want to do," Natalia said. "There's nothing like seeing the dawn of understanding on a student's face. Though lately, I've been feeling …" She shrugged.

  "Sí, you do reach a few. The ones who are willing," Pura admitted. "It's why I keep going back." At seventy, her grandmother was well past the age to retire. The farm, her radio soaps, and reading should have kept her busy enough.

  Natalia studied Pura from the corner of her eye, and she noticed her hands were a trifle more twisted with arthritis, her back more stooped. Pura had had cataract surgery for the second time during the spring. Her grandmother's advancing age depressed Natalia. She didn't like to think about Pura's mortality. Natalia couldn't imagine a world without her grandmother's passionate opinions and eccentricities.

  As much as Natalia loved her mother, she had always felt closer to her beloved abuela. They shared a special bond, a link which often allowed them to read each other's thoughts. And that special bond was what drew her back to New Mexico each summer. Or was it?

  She wasn't ready to go down that road yet. Instead, she said, "I'm signing up for summer school tomorrow. I only need six more hours to become accredited here."

  "Do you really want to live and teach in New Mexico?"

  "I've been earning hours to do it."

  "Sí, but I never believed you would. I thought of it as a hobby for your summers here."

  Pura herded the squawking, flapping chickens before her, shooing them from the henhouse. She grabbed two buckets of grain, and Natalia followed her to the farmyard. Pura handed one bucket to Natalia, and they both started tossing the grain to the pecking chickens.

  "And how is everyone at home?" Pura asked.

  On the face of it, someone else would have thought Pura had suddenly changed the subject, but Natalia knew better. Her abuela never left a topic of conversation until it had been thoroughly discussed and dissected. Pura had just decided to use another approach, circle the issue and come back to it. Sometimes, her grandmother's tenacious but circuitous probing exasperated her. Today, she welcomed it, feeling unsure of how she felt---about a lot of things.

  "I told you last night, they're fine. Mami y Papi are both looking forward to retirement ... unlike someone I know."

  "Pah." Pura dismissed Natalia's observation with a toss of her head. "It's different for them, they have each other."

  Natalia didn't need to ask what her grandmother meant. Pura had been devoted to her husband, Miguel, Natalia's grandfather. Years ago when he'd asked her to move to the city, she'd followed him without complaint. Even though it had meant leaving her family's farm, the remaining acreage of a once-great Spanish rancho, given to Pura's family by the king of Spain before New Mexico was part of the United States.

  Her grandparents had moved to the Dallas area, where there were more opportunities for a penniless carpenter. Natalia often wondered if her poor and uneducated grandfather had resented marrying Pura, who owned land. But it hadn't kept them from loving each other. Her abuela had adapted herself to city ways and even earned a degree at night, eventually becoming a teacher. When her husband died, she'd returned to her farm in New Mexico.

  Miguel had been the love of her life. She had never gotten over losing him.

  Natalia wondered if she would ever find a love like that.

  "Mami grows more frustrated with her students each year, too. She says they refuse to work. That they want everything spoon-fed to them." Was it any surprise that Natalia's passion was teaching? She came from two generations of teachers; it was almost a genetic trait.

  "It's all those gadgets," Pura repeated. "And your sister, Sonia, how is she?"

  "Sonia is ... Sonia. This is her third year in college, but she's barely a sophomore. Her sorority functions take precedence over classes."

  Natalia scooped up a handful of grain and spread it for the chickens, fighting down a pang of conscience. She was never certain if she was jealous of her younger sister or if she held her in contempt.

  They were so different. Natalia had been born serious-minded and scholarly. She'd always excelled at school, winning honors from the time she was in kindergarten. Sonia, on the other hand, was a social butterfly. Beautiful and gregarious, she filled the house with her friends and activities. School was her last priority.

  "She's been engaged over ten times with no result," Natalia added. "I've lost count. I don't know how Papi can retire if she stays a student forever. I don't know why he and Mami don't---"

  "Do what? Change her nature?"

  Natalia bit her lip. Pura's defense of her younger sister's flighty ways hurt. "What makes Sonia different from the students who drive us crazy? The ones who refuse to work? I thought you'd agree with me."

  Pura snorted. "I raised your mother with values, and she taught those same values to you and your sister. Sonia will settle down. It's just a matter of time. Some people need longer childhoods, that's all."

  "I hope you're right," Natalia murmured, her feelings still tender.

  After all, it was she who came every summer and visited. Sonia would come for a week and be dying of boredom, ready to return to Dallas in two days. But her grandmother didn't show favoritism between the two sisters or any of her other grandchildren, either. Natalia admired her impartiality, but sometimes, she almost wished her beloved abuela would favor her. It was wrong, but she couldn't help herself.

  "What about your engagement, Nieta?" Pura circled around, catching her off guard, despite Natalia knowing better.

  She opened her mouth and then closed it, not knowing how to start. Her grandmother put away the tins of grain and said, "We've finished with the chickens. Let's start breakfast. I'm starving."

  Natalia trailed after Pura, the basket of eggs looped over her arm. She idly kicked at tufts of grass growing haphazardly in the yard, trying to gather her thoughts and make sense of her feelings.

  They entered the kitchen and her grandmother immediately started pulling out a bowl, skillets, and spices from the cupboard. Natalia retrieved the chorizo and the home-grown veggies from the refrigerator, taking up her usual stance at the cutting board, knife in hand.

  Pura reached over and grabbed an egg, cracking it on the rim of her blue and white pottery. "Dime." Pura prompted.

  "I'm twenty-seven years old."

  Her statement was the same inane thing she'd told Esteban yesterday, and it didn't really explain anything, but maybe that was how she wanted it. To admit she felt as if she were destined to be an old maid, having wasted her youth, sounded too melodramatic. But that was the way she felt.

  "Got tired of waiting for the García boy, eh?" Her grandmother broke another egg and dropped it into the bowl.

  "Sí, he wasn't ready to marry. He won't marry until he's made his fortune." She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. "And he spends it as fast as he makes it, so ..."

  "But if you loved him, you would wait."

  "I guess so, Abuelita."

  "Then you don't love him."

  "I thought I did. I waited for Hector for six years. That was long enough."

  "Love doesn't keep count of the years, only the joy."

  "Oh, Abuelita, I wish it were that simple. We've grown apart too. He doesn't like the same things I do. He wants to go to parties and on exotic vacations with hordes of people. I want quiet dinners and symphony concerts."

  "You should introduce him to Sonia. They sound well suited."

  She laughed in spite of herself. "But I want a family, and I thought Hector wanted one, too, but he doesn't seem to be in any rush."

  "Men never are. Biology is on their side. For women, it's different."

  Again, her grandmother had cut to the heart of the matter. A woman couldn't wait too long to start a family. Though now with the medical advances available, she still had plenty of time, but she wanted to be young enough to enjoy her children. And the society whirl Hector craved left her cold. If he did make his fortune, it would only worsen.


  The Garcías, though they'd lost their fortune a couple of decades ago, was still one of the most prominent Latino families in Dallas. They spent their time going to one empty social event after another. If she married Hector, his family would expect them to follow their lead. It wasn't the simple life she'd envisioned for herself.

  "So, it's over. I see you're not wearing that ring," Pura said.

  Natalia winced at the way her grandmother said that ring. She knew Pura, like Esteban, hadn't approved of it. Her grandmother had even called it flashy, which loosely translated, meant her abuela had thought it was in poor taste.

  A part of Natalia agreed. Ironically, the ring had symbolized all that had been wrong between her and Hector. How different their values had been. There was that word again, values. The same word Pura had used when talking about Sonia. Were values really the most important thing? More important than love?

  She wished she could ask Pura if she'd shared the same values as Miguel, but she refrained, not wanting to bring fresh grief. Her abuela loved to talk about her husband, but after she did so, she would become quiet for several days.

  "I told Hector our engagement was over before I left. He didn't believe me. He told me to think it over this summer. I forgot to return his ring, but when I left home, I took it off, knowing I couldn't wear it any longer. It wouldn't be honest." Her lips quirked in a mirthless smile. "I'll return it when I go back home."

  "You should hock it and keep the money."

  "Pura!"

  Her grandmother poured the beaten eggs into the cast-iron skillet and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "He took your time with his half-baked schemes. The money would be little enough."

  "I couldn't."

  Pura watched the eggs settle in the skillet before adding diced, fresh tomatoes, cilantro, onions, and peppers. She patted Natalia's hand and said, "I know. Your values would get in the way." She smiled and directed, "The chorizo needs turning or it'll burn. And would you put some bread in the oven for toast, por favor."

  Nodding, Natalia followed her instructions, wondering how she should broach the delicate subject that had been rolling around her mind since yesterday. But she didn't have to bring it up because her grandmother did it for her.

  "Did Esteban notice your missing engagement ring?"

  She jumped at the question and almost dropped the bread. Sometimes, it was eerie, the way Pura could zero in on what she was thinking. "Sí, he did."

  "Not too much mantequilla on the toast, Nieta." Her grandmother patted the slight bulge below her waist and giggled. "I need to watch my girlish figure."

  "Oh, Abuelita, the more calories the better you like it."

  With the cooking complete, they piled their plates high. The golden omelet with its dusting of veggies and spices shimmered on their plates. Natalia's mouth watered. She'd missed her grandmother's cooking.

  Natalia cut a wedge from the omelet and followed it with a bite of chorizo, washed down by hand-squeezed orange juice. Not only was her grandmother a marvelous cook, Natalia couldn't hope to duplicate the freshness of the ingredients in the city, unless she went to the Farmer's Market each day. Not an option because there was never enough hours in her day with teaching and grading papers and talking to students and parents.

  After she'd shoveled in the last bite of omelet, Natalia leaned back from the table with a sigh. Now she felt fortified and ready to tackle the delicate subject she'd avoided before.

  "Esteban noticed my missing engagement ring," Natalia took up the broken thread of their conversation. "And he asked me out." She gazed at Pura. "What do you think?"

  Raising her eyebrows, Pura said, "I think it was inevitable."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Two young people who have known each other since childhood. Who have liked each other since childhood," she added. "One a man, the other a woman, it's inevitable." She shrugged. "A given, written in the stars, if you like."

  So direct before, her abuela had resumed her round-about form of discussion, and this time, it frustrated Natalia. She was so confused about her feelings that her grandmother's abstract theorizing didn't really help. Nope, she wanted answers.

  "I don't care if it's inevitable or not. I asked you what you think."

  "Think? Think? At seventy years old, I should think about this? You give this old lady too much credit. I think Esteban would have asked you before if you hadn't come here, waving that ring like a pennant." She took a bite of toast. "But if you're asking me what I think of you going out with Esteban, I don't think anything. It's your life and your decision."

  Natalia sank deeper in her chair, disappointed by Pura's response. For someone who loved to gossip, her abuela had a curious habit of keeping apart from her family's doings.

  "Well, I don't think it's a good idea. Too much of a chance that it would turn into a rebound relationship," Natalia said. "Besides," she continued, splaying her fingers on the tabletop and studying her manicured nails, "our being friends would just muddy the water. What happens if we don't like going out together? It could ruin our friendship. I don't want to lose Esteban as a friend."

  Pura shrugged again and replied, "As you say."

  Chapter Two

  Natalia studied Esteban's long, lean legs. Like disembodied parts, they stuck out from beneath Pura's ancient Chevy truck. Her grandmother had mentioned that something was wrong with the pickup's transmission, and Esteban had volunteered to take a look at it.

  She stared at his muscular legs outlined in his skin-tight jeans, and her heart squeezed at the thought of turning him down, even though she knew she had to do it. Since she'd been old enough to care how she looked, she'd been attracted to Esteban. His bad-boy good looks were hard to dismiss. And there was a certain electrical current that surrounded him, too, as if the very air sizzled when he was near. Girls and then women flocked to him, making Natalia feel strangely immature, although she was older by two years.

  Older by two years and so different.

  She wanted to marry a man like her father, a professional man with his feet on solid ground. One who could provide for and nurture a family properly.

  She had thought she had found the perfect match in Hector, but he'd changed, veering from the simple promise of their youth. But just because he hadn't been the one, didn't mean she should get involved with someone else, someone ill-suited to her.

  But, oh, how she dreaded telling Esteban no. And the longer she put her refusal off, the better, so she didn't say anything, just waited patiently. She half-listened as he mumbled to himself, probably about guy things doing with the insides of an automobile. Esteban was so male, so testosterone loaded that sometimes she wondered how they'd remained friends without getting involved already. Probably she wasn't his type, either.

  Then why had he asked her out? Oh, no, not a pity ploy---not that. She covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. A part of her wanted to run away and not face the possibility that his offer had been from pity. But she couldn't do that, either, she had to give him an answer. Had to face down her worst fears, so she stood rooted to the spot, her heart pounding in her ears.

  After a few minutes, Esteban finally scooted out and sat up, but he didn't glance at her. Instead, his head was bent over his toolbox, the sun picking out glints of gold tints in his buzz-cut, brown hair. Two days of bearded stubble on his jaw lent him a rakish air.

  He grabbed a rag from his jeans' pocket and swiped at the grease on his face, succeeding in smearing it. If she hadn't been so tense about refusing him, she would have laughed. As it was, she stayed perfectly still, waiting for him to notice her.

  When he finally looked up, his gray eyes widened and his pupils dilated. He grinned and scrambled to his feet. He wiped his right hand on his jeans and started to take her hand, but then he stopped. "You caught me at a bad time. I'm covered with grease. Were you looking for me?"

  Natalia swallowed, and it was as if someone had forced a wad of cottonballs down her throat. Gulping, she said, "
Don't apologize. Pura is happy you're trying to fix her pickup and save her the money for a mechanic. You don't need to apologize," she repeated.

  "And?" He scowled.

  She realized that he knew what was coming, but at least, he didn't look relieved. Maybe he hadn't asked her out of compassion. She certainly hoped not, but she still had to turn him down. Say it and get it over with. "I can't go out with you."

  "Won't," he argued.

  "Won't then," she agreed.

  "What does Pura think?"

  How did he know she'd talked to her grandmother about him asking her out? She sighed. Of course he knew. He was practically family.

  "Pura wouldn't say. She thinks she's too old to have an opinion," Natalia replied.

  "I see."

  "Bueno. Then you understand."

  "No entiendo," he contradicted. "But I'm willing to wait. I've waited a long time already."

  That certainly didn't sound like pity to her. She shivered in the warm mountain air and crossed her arms over her chest. His declaration raised goose bumps on her arms. She bit her lip and looked down.

  So her grandmother had been right. He would have asked her out before if she hadn't been engaged. She found that hard to believe. Esteban, the sexy, bad-boy wanted to date her? The thought was extremely flattering, but it didn't make sense.

  She shook herself, wanting to banish the gooseflesh on her arms. Esteban was good-hearted and kind to her abuela, but his past left a great deal to be desired. If it hadn't been for Pura, he would probably be in the penitentiary. What was she thinking, even considering his sex appeal or good looks?

  "I guess that's all."

  He crossed one leg in front of the other, thrusting his jean-clad hip out. She remembered the feel of his body against hers---remembered it all too well. And his lips moving on hers, sweet and terrible at the same time. Did he guess how he affected her? Was that what lent him his air of self-confidence, of almost swaggering self-assurance.