Summer Dreams

by Hebby Roman

  Their joining had been as inevitable as summer storms over the mountains. As Pura had told her, foreordained, written in the stars. Growing up together, they knew each other better than anyone else. Sharing their bodies, as two adults, had merely been an extension of that closeness.

  But was it mere physical attraction that made her melt inside when she saw him? Mere physical attraction that made the blood sing in her veins? Mere physical attraction that made her blissfully happy, just being near him?

  Or was it something more?

  Esteban had declared his love for her tonight. Had said he'd loved her always. Did she love him in return or was this infatuation? A long suppressed desire given free rein?

  Natalia wished she could be as sure as he was and know that she truly loved him. She'd already made one mistake. She'd vowed not to make another. She didn't want to run to what seemed like a safe harbor, only to be sadly mistaken. She was through with doing things just for security.

  Knowing he loved her gave her a certain sense of security. But it wasn't enough. She must return his love, unconditionally, and be prepared to spend the rest of her life with him. But he hadn't spoken of commitment, just his love.

  It was Esteban who broke the long silence, speaking again of love. "Te amo, Natalia. I've dreamed of this night." He lifted her hand to his lips and turned it over, feathering kisses across her palm. "But my dreams can't compete with the reality. I've never been happier in my life." He gazed at her and asked, "How about you? No regrets?"

  Smiling seductively, she traced his lips with her fingertips. Unable to declare her love, she replied, "No regrets, Esteban. In fact, I want to spend the night with you."

  "Don't you have class in the morning? What will Pura say?"

  "I'll cut my class, and I'll call my grandmother in the morning. She'll understand."

  Shaking his head, he said, "I'm not so sure she will. Your abuela has some old-fashioned ideas. I don't want her coming after me with a shotgun."

  She laughed but admitted, "You're probably right. I guess I better not. But it was nice to fantasize for a minute, wasn't it?"

  "You really mean that? You would have stayed with me if it wasn't for Pura?" A note of wonder had crept into his voice. "Are you sure?"

  "Sí," she replied simply and brushed his mouth with hers.

  And she was sure.

  She'd never been so sure about anything in her life. She wanted to be with him all the time, every waking and sleeping hour. If she couldn't find the right words to say, if her fears still controlled her, she wanted to banish them. And the only way she knew to overcome her fears was to be with him.

  If she couldn't tell him she loved him, she could show him, over and over again. Until she could speak her heart, she would live what was buried there, proving her love without words.

  Chapter Nine

  Pura cracked the screen door a few inches. "Natalia's not home, Hector, she's at class."

  Hector edged his foot into the small opening. He had to get inside and convince Pura to let him build the road across her property. He'd hocked the engagement ring and wired the cash to the Pérez brothers to cover the interest.

  But he wasn't off the hook yet. He needed to repay the principal before more interest accumulated and Paulo's patience wore thin. The only way to do that was to put the development deal together and take his share as the general partner, off the top.

  Pura stared pointedly at his foot. "Is there something else I can do for you, Hector?"

  "I didn't come to see Natalia. I came to talk to you about the road."

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I've decided against it. I don't want a bunch of tourists roaring through my farm. There are enough resorts already."

  He wasn't surprised. After what had happened at the Mariposa, he'd expected resistance. After all, he hadn't exactly endeared himself to Natalia by attacking her new boyfriend. And he knew how close Natalia and her grandmother were.

  He shouldn't have let his emotions run away with him, shouldn't have taken a swing at Esteban. It had been foolish and undignified on his part.

  He wasn't even jealous of Esteban. Esteban was too far beneath him for that. What he didn't like was Esteban acting as if they were equal. He'd wanted to put him in his place. But he hadn't considered the price he would pay for alienating Natalia and her grandmother.

  "Mrs. Alberty, I'm sorry about the other night. I wish you would extend my apologies to Natalia when she returns home."

  "You can wish away, young man," she replied. "But you need to do your own apologizing."

  Sighing, he said, "Surely, you won't let a little fist fight color your thinking, Mrs. Alberty. Natalia and I have broken off our engagement, and I admit I lost my head. You know, jealousy can be a green-eyed monster," he lied, hoping to appeal to her romantic side.

  "If you're so jealous, why take your ring back?"

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he cleared his throat. "Could I just come inside for a moment?" Lifting his briefcase, he said, "I brought the plans for the road and a written offer for your right-of-way. Won't you please look at them?"

  Hesitating, her eyes bore into him. He had the funniest feeling she could see straight through him, and he didn't like it.

  Pushing open the screen door, she gave in. "Bring your papers inside. If it makes you feel better, I'll look at them. But I doubt they will change my mind."

  He followed her into the dining room, and she gestured toward the table. "You can spread your papers there."

  Opening the briefcase, he pulled out the engineer's map, a sketching of the road and the right-of-way, and spread it on the table. Then he placed an envelope holding the documents outlining the cash offer beside the map.

  Pura settled her glasses on her nose and quickly scanned the map. Taking up the envelope, she pulled out the papers and flipped through them with equal dispatch.

  "I don't want a road cutting across my farm, young man," she declared. She set the papers back on the table and folded her arms across her chest. "You'll need to find another route to your development. Not across my farm. I don't want or need your money, either."

  She inclined her head toward the door. "And since this isn't a social call, I won't detain you with refreshments."

  "Won't you at least---"

  "I've chores to do," she said. She rose and crossed to the screen door and held it open.

  With no other choice, he walked to the door. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Alberty."

  "Don't you want to take your papers with you?"

  "No, they're for you. You keep them. You never know, but you might change your mind."

  She shook her head and ushered him through the door without a word of farewell.

  He climbed behind the wheel of the Beamer and turned on the engine. Pura might have won the battle, but not the war. He couldn't afford to lose this development deal. He'd researched other routes and found they would cost double. That would be a hard sell with his investors. The road must cross the Alberty farm.

  And there was more than one way to skin a cat.

  ***

  The water gushed and poured over their naked bodies, slicking back their hair and cooling their over-heated skin. With Esteban unable to work or play ball until his wrist healed, they'd taken to whiling away their days on the mountain, playing in the waterfall, hiking in the forest, and fishing. One time, Esteban had even borrowed horses from his father's farm, and they'd gone riding.

  But most of all ... they made love.

  Esteban grabbed for her and pulled her close. His slick mouth fused with hers, nipping and teasing, running his tongue over her wet lips, licking at the moisture there. His lips trailed down her neck, and he lapped at the water with his tongue, circling and taunting, the rough nap of his tongue tickling her. His hands, both hands, because his wrist was almost healed, found her breasts and smoothed the moisture over them.

  Shuddering in ecstasy, she pressed herself closer, savoring the exquisite sensati
on, begging for more. His penis rose, hot and hard, pushing against her abdomen with its own insistent urgency.

  Curling her hands around his biceps, she murmured, "You're insatiable. We just made love---"

  "I can't get enough of you," he said, his voice thick with passion.

  Twisting away from him, she leapt into the deep, emerald pool, calling back, "If you want me, you'll have to catch me."

  Swimming with strong, even strokes, she crossed the wide pool in a matter of seconds. Looking back, she saw that he was pursuing her. But for once, she had the advantage. With his wrist only half-healed, his usually powerful strokes were hampered.

  Shivering in anticipation of when he caught her, she laughed and taunted, circling and crossing the pool, managing to keep a few strokes ahead. They cavorted like young seals, their bodies naked and slick. She'd stop for a second only to splash water in his face and swim away. Several times, he dove deep and managed to catch hold of her ankle. But with a hard kick, she wriggled free.

  When she felt as if her lungs would burst from the exertion, she finally pulled herself from the water and lounged, purposely enticing him, on a large, flat rock. The heated surface warmed her chilled flesh. She combed through her wet hair with her fingers while watching what Esteban would do.

  He wasn't taking any chances. He might be hindered by a sprained wrist, but she was no match for his stamina. Evidently expecting her to dive into the water again, he circled the rock cautiously, making smaller and smaller arcs, closing in on her like a cat on a mouse.

  Trembling with excitement, she shifted on the rock, giving him a better view of her breasts. Seemingly oblivious to his approach, she kept combing her hair, playing the delicious waiting game.

  He rose from the water, his chiseled-hard body reminding her of a young Neptune rising from the sea. His manhood stood at attention, hard and pulsing with a life of its own.

  At the last possible moment, she squealed and tried to roll away. But he caught and lifted her in his strong arms. Carrying her to the bank, he gently laid her down among the fragrant moss without a word. Sinking to his knees, he straddled her, pinning her to the earth, not giving her a chance to get away.

  Every nerve in her body quivered while she waited for him to prepare himself. He hadn't touched her except to carry her there. But there was no need because their cat-and-mouse game had already excited her, sending waves of scintillating anticipation pulsing through her body.

  Quivering like a mass of jell-o, she gazed at his handsome features. His look was stern, his eyes hooded. He was playing the game. Fantasizing being Esteban's sex slave titillated her beyond rational thought, driving her to the edge of shuddering ecstasy.

  Her legs twitched and she rubbed them together, trying to relieve the burning ache in her vagina. She arched her back, offering her breasts. She was so hot she could feel her own juices, scalding her thighs.

  But still he didn't touch her, except to capture her wrists with his good hand and pull her hands above her head. She writhed beneath him, silently pleading for his touch.

  He used his half-healed hand to spread her thighs wide, and he lowered himself and without a word, plunged into her. His entry sent her over the edge. She spiraled out of control, bucking and arching, drawing him deeper, wanting him to climax with her.

  "Oh, Esteban, Esteban, por favor, por favor ..." She whimpered.

  Like the piston of an engine, he drove into her, over and over, wringing the last drop of release from her body. And when he knew she was satisfied, he reared back bringing her with him, their bodies still intimately linked, and settled her on his lap.

  Rocking back and forth as if they were in the old swing, he dallied with her, playing with her breasts, teasing her nipples into strutted points, easing his hand between their bodies and stroking her clitoris, withdrawing and then entering her, again and again.

  Slowly, her passion mounted once more, reaching a new plateau, rising to a feverish pitch. Attuned to her body, he lowered her to the ground again and plunged into her, a frenzied, almost-punishing coupling, joining with her in a fierce passion, pounding into her body, silently proclaiming his mastery.

  He took her to a place she'd never been before---a climax so powerful it wrenched the very breath from her lungs, sapped the marrow from her bones, and rendered her nerves an insensate, jumbled mess.

  Clinging to him in the aftermath of their passion, she whispered, "I'm yours, Esteban. Forever yours. Por favor, don't ever leave me."

  But she still couldn't say the words of love.

  ***

  Squeezed into the Chevy pickup, Natalia and Esteban, along with Pura, returned to the farm in a festive mood. They'd been to Esteban's first game since his wrist had healed. Though his wrist was still weak and he'd only gotten one hit, it was a start.

  "Do you think the scout might come back before your season is over?" Natalia asked, knowing he hadn't been able to play when the scout had visited a couple of weeks before.

  "Anything is possible. But I'm not counting on it. Taos is a long way to come and ..."

  He gasped and pointed at the barn, exclaiming, "Por Dios, what happened?"

  Natalia's gaze turned to the barn, and she was shocked by what she saw. She closed her eyes and then opened them again, wishing the awful image away.

  The barn's doors had been wrenched from their hinges. One door lay on the ground in the dirt, and the other hung crookedly, supported by only its top hinge. Obscenities, spray-painted in six-foot tall letters, covered the walls, vivid against the weathered pine boards.

  Spewing gravel, Esteban pulled into the farmyard. Pura hadn't said a thing, only gasped once. They spilled from the pickup and wandered around the yard in mute shock, surveying the damage.

  All of the livestock was loose, milling uncertainly in the yard, looking as shaken as they felt, from the chickens to the cows. Apolinaria, the goat, was nowhere to be found, having made good her escape.

  Fences had been partially torn down, in a haphazard fashion, a few boards here and there, a post uprooted every few feet. The chicken coop had been completely demolished, as if beaten to death with baseball bats. It lay in crushed squalor, a broken litter of chicken wire and wood. The tool shed had been pushed over, falling on its side and crumbling into pieces. But the farm implements were still there, sitting incongruously in the open, on the concrete slab that served as the floor.

  At first glance, it appeared as if the vandals hadn't bothered to take anything, just leaving wrecked destruction in their path. Only when they looked for the woodpile, did they realize it was missing.

  Venturing inside the barn, they were surprised to find the damage was minimal. One stall had been torn apart, board-by-board, then, as if the effort wasn't worth it, the remainder of the barn had been left intact. But the loft had been emptied. All of the hay had been thrown to the floor.

  Stifling a sob, Pura finally found her voice, "My home, my home. What about mi casa?" She reached for Natalia's hand and pleaded, "Ven conmigo. I'm afraid to look."

  Natalia squeezed her grandmother's hand, offering a reassurance she didn't feel. She and Pura approached the house. Esteban trailed after them. But as hard as Natalia stared at Pura's wooden-frame house, she couldn't find anything amiss. They mounted the two steps and gazed around the porch. The rusty yard chairs hadn't been moved, and the porch swing swayed gently in the breeze, its chains chanting musically.

  "Por favor, esperensen un momento." Esteban's voice stopped them from unlocking the front door. "Could you step aside for a minute? I'd like to see if the lock was jimmied."

  Obediently, they moved to one side while Esteban squatted down and examined the lock, jiggling the doorknob and peering through the keyhole. When he was satisfied, he rose and said, "Doesn't look as if it has been tampered with. That's a blessing."

  Pura sighed and slumped against Natalia. But Esteban dispelled their short-lived relief by saying, "Go inside and wait for me. I'm going to check the back door."

&
nbsp; Pura opened the screen and unlocked the front door. Clinging to each other, Natalia stepped inside with her abuela. Nothing was out of place. The living room looked as it always did.

  They heard Esteban's footsteps crossing the kitchen and glanced up. Coming through the dining room, he said, "The back door is okay and the storeroom. They must have left the house alone. But just to be certain, I'm going to check the other rooms." He stroked his chin and speculated, "I wonder if they heard us coming and ran off. I don't want them to come back later."

  He turned to Natalia and said, "You better call the police and have them come right away."

  Terrified by the thought that the vandals might return, she led her grandmother to the sofa and settled her. Crossing the room to the hall, she looked around, peeking in her room and finding everything as she'd left it.

  Esteban brushed past her. "Call the police, Natalia."

  Taking her cell from her purse, she punched in nine-one-one and waited for the dispatcher to pick up. When she got the dispatcher, she explained the situation and gave directions to the farm. She returned to the living room and found Esteban with his arms around Pura, trying to soothe her.

  But her grandmother wasn't hysterical. On the contrary, she appeared to be in deep shock, her eyes glazed over and one hand nervously plucking at the sofa cushion.

  "Should we take her to the hospital?" Natalia whispered to Esteban, alarmed by her grandmother's uncharacteristic behavior.

  "I'm not sick, Natalia," came the reedy answer.

  Pleased to hear her grandmother sounding more like herself, she leaned down and kissed the crown of her gray head. "I'm worried about you. Will you be alright?"

  "Of course," Pura said.

  "Just give her some time," Esteban advised. "Why don't you two wait here for the police. I'm going to round up the livestock and try to pin them somewhere."

  "Take good care of the chickens," Pura said.

  "I will, I promise. And I'm going to check the damage more closely, too. I want the police to make a complete report."

  But when the two police officers finally arrived, a full hour after Natalia had called, they weren't much help.