Summer Dreams

by Hebby Roman

  With Esteban's assistance, they took copious notes, documenting each piece of destruction and vandalism. They questioned Pura closely, asking if any of her students might have a vendetta against her. She wasn't much help, unable to believe her students, no matter how bad-mannered they might be, would dare to destroy her farm.

  But despite her protestations to the contrary, in the policemen's estimation, the damage bore the distinct earmarks of adolescent vandalism. Natalia was relieved to learn from the officers that this kind of vandalism was usually an isolated event and unlikely to occur again.

  There was one thing that bothered her, though, and as soon as the officers had finished their report, she confronted them, complaining about their tardy arrival. They apologized, but pointed out that the farm was several miles from town and connected by a very poorly maintained road. They even suggested her grandmother might resurface the road for her own safety.

  After Natalia ushered the officers from the house, she turned to the dining room table. The map and offer Hector had left lay open on the table, as if silently mocking her. Seating herself, she studied the map carefully.

  ***

  "I think you should reconsider, Abuelita," Natalia pled with her grandmother. "It took the police a full hour to get here, and they blamed your road. With a new road, it would be so much safer and convenient."

  "I don't want a road cutting my farm into little pieces, and that's final," Pura replied stubbornly. "I would think you'd be ashamed to take anything from that snake of an ex-fiancé. We aren't that hard up yet. There are other ways to get the road resurfaced."

  "What other ways? Do you have the money to fix the road?"

  The front door opened, interrupting their argument. Esteban entered and said, "I think I've got a temporary chicken coop rigged, but all this hard work has made me hungry."

  "There's some leftover arroz con pollo in the kitchen," Natalia said without looking at him. "Help yourself."

  "Maybe I better go out and come back again," he said. "The reception is a bit chilly, don't you think?"

  "Don't mind her," Pura interjected. "She's in a bad mood because I don't agree with her."

  "Agree with what?" He asked.

  "She wants to let Hector put that blasted road across my farm. Says it's for my safety and that it took the police an hour to get here because my road is bad."

  "You heard them, too, Abuelita," Natalia said. "They didn't just tell me."

  "Pah." She waved her gnarled hands. "They said that to cover their own incompetence." Pura turned to Esteban and said, "I told her she's crazy to take anything from that awful Hector."

  Natalia glanced at Esteban, also looking to him for support. Maybe he could convince Pura if she couldn't. But what she saw in his features stopped her short.

  His face looked like a thundercloud waiting to storm. Frowning, he shot her a reproachful look and admitted, "I have to agree with Pura. We'll find another way to fix the road. I thought you'd learned your lesson about Hector but apparently not."

  He started toward the kitchen, must have thought better of it, stopped and turned. "I'm going back outside. There's still an hour of daylight left."

  Natalia stood in the center of the living room and watched him leave in dumbfounded silence. She'd expected him to be reasonable, to understand her point of view and support it. She'd expected him to help her convince her abuela. Instead, he'd sided against her.

  And like Pura, he'd rejected Hector's offer due to his personal dislike of her ex-fiancé. But resurfacing the road wasn't a personal matter. It was a matter of safety. And Natalia didn't care where or from whom they got a new road, just so long as they got one.

  Her grandmother's safety was at stake---couldn't Esteban see that?

  ***

  Hammering boards into the fence posts helped to dissipate some of Esteban's anger, but the physical labor didn't erase the hurt. He couldn't quite believe, after the lovemaking they'd shared, that Natalia would go running to Hector for help.

  He heard the front door slam and footsteps crossing the yard. Without turning to look, he knew it was Natalia. And if he didn't miss his guess, she was spoiling for a fight.

  "Esteban," the agitated sound of her voice reached him, but he didn't stop hammering. "Stop that racket and look at me," she demanded.

  He delivered several hard blows and finished the board he'd been working on. Parking the hammer in his belt, he pivoted slowly to face her. His earlier assessment had been correct by the look of her flushed, frowning face.

  With arms akimbo and fists riding her hips, she'd never looked so beautiful. And it took all of his restraint not to sweep her into his arms and carry her off to the barn for a tumble in the hay. But judging by the reception he'd received in the house, he didn't think she'd respond to caveman tactics.

  "I can't believe you don't see my point of view about the road, Esteban. I want Pura to be safe. She needs a new road."

  "Like I said before, there are other ways to get a new road, Natalia," he replied. "I know Pura has savings and---"

  "Those savings are for her retirement," she interrupted. "Why should she spend her money when she can get a new road and additional money? It just doesn't make sense."

  "Does it make sense to force her to put a road across her farm she doesn't want? After all, Pura is a big girl, and this is her farm," he said.

  "This may be her farm," Natalia retorted, "but that doesn't mean she always knows what's best. Sometimes, she's stubborn, just to be stubborn. Sometimes, she needs help to see things clearly."

  "You mean she's getting senile."

  "That's not what I meant! And you know it." Her scowl deepened. "I can't believe you're taking her side. The farm needs a new road, and I don't want her to dip into savings to pay for it."

  He ran his hand over his cropped head. "Then I'll pay for it. I've some money saved for college."

  "You will not. That money's for your college."

  "Okay, Natalia, you pay for it."

  Narrowing her eyes, she said, "This isn't about the road, is it, Esteban? This is about your personal vendetta with Hector. Even though you know it's the best solution, you reject it because the money and road would come from him. You're letting your emotions rule your reason, just like Pura."

  Analyzing what she'd said, he had to agree with her. He was letting his emotions rule his reason, but not because he had a personal vendetta against Hector. No, it went deeper than that. He envied Hector's position and obvious wealth. And he hated the fact Natalia was willing to turn to him for help. In a word, he was jealous ... insanely jealous.

  He couldn't admit how he felt to Natalia. That would make him seem small in her eyes. And he was still trying to win her regard. Even though he'd confessed his love for her, countless times, she hadn't said she loved him, not even once.

  He'd waited in vain for her to say the words.

  He couldn't admit his jealousy, and he didn't want to lie. But she was waiting, he had to say something. He turned back to the fence and hoisted a board into place. He grabbed his hammer and a nail from his shirt pocket. "If you want to think it's a personal vendetta, Natalia, I can't convince you otherwise." Pausing, he drove the nail into the board with three well-placed blows.

  "Just remember two things, okay? Hector has caused you nothing but pain. And Pura doesn't want a road cutting through her farm. I don't understand why you're pushing this. It can't end well."

  Natalia stared at his broad back, watched the flexing of his muscles beneath his shirt. His strong hands held the heavy board easily, drove the nail with accuracy. Those same hands had stroked her in the most intimate places, touched her tenderly ... with love.

  It was true he'd admitted that he loved her. But what of their future? Despite telling her that he loved her, he'd never once mentioned marriage or any kind of permanent commitment. On one level, she understood and accepted his inability to commit.

  After all, his future and career were in turmoil. He didn't know if he
would make it in baseball. And as much as she wanted him to succeed because he'd worked so hard, she wasn't eager to be a pro athlete's wife. She'd heard enough about the pressures and transitory nature of pro sports, not to mention the incessant traveling, to know that a marriage had to be very strong to survive.

  And if he didn't make the major leagues, he faced another two or three years of school to obtain his education degree. She didn't mind helping him through school, but she also knew it was difficult to be a student and married at the same time.

  That left her where she'd started, older, but no closer to finding a husband, settling down, and starting a family. Ignoring her usually cautious nature, she'd entered into this affair with him, turning a blind eye to the pitfalls. Now it would seem, they'd come full circle without going anywhere.

  Staring at his unbending back, she guessed his attitude went beyond what Hector had done to him at the resort. No, she'd underestimated the depth of Esteban's feelings; he didn't want her to have anything to do with Hector because he was jealous and afraid she might go back to him.

  And Esteban didn't have that right.

  They weren't engaged, they weren't even promised. His possessiveness was small and petty. She unclenched her fists and let her arms drop to her sides.

  "Okay, you win, Esteban. Between you and Pura, I know when I'm beat. I won't push for the road." Hesitating, she gathered the courage to go on. "But don't think you can control me or that you own me. You're jealous of Hector and his position. And you don't have that right."

  He whirled around and dropped his tools. "Natalia, don't talk like that. I don't want to own you. I want---"

  "I need some time alone, Esteban, to think things over," she cut him off. "I think we shouldn't see each other for awhile."

  Having said it, she couldn't look at him. If she did, she knew she would weaken. She turned on her heel and fled to the sanctuary of her grandmother's house.

  ***

  Esteban sat in a corner of the seedy taberna where he and Paco had talked the last time. Nursing a Corona, he kept his eye on the door waiting for Paco. Feeling as he did, the beer tasted good, too good, and if he wasn't careful, he could get roaring drunk to ease the pain.

  The last few days would drive any man to drink. Being near Natalia while he repaired Pura's farm, but unable to talk to her, unable to touch her, was maddening. It had been bad enough before they were intimate. Now, the anguish had increased a hundredfold.

  Images of them together, in the most complete sense of that word, constantly played through his mind. But it wasn't just about sex. No, it was much more than that. She'd taken his love and thrown it back in his face, telling him he didn't own her. It was as he'd feared all along.

  He wasn't good enough for her.

  She'd told him he was jealous of Hector and his position. And with unerring accuracy, she'd hit the nail on the head. Alongside Hector's position and wealth, he must look small.

  Hector, and what he represented, still stood between them, like a monolithic stone wall. And as he'd worked to repair Pura's farm, an idea took hold of him. The vandalism on the farm, an isolated event, according to the police, had been perfectly timed, particularly considering Hector's argument about the safety of the road. The more Esteban thought about it, the more coincidental it seemed.

  He came to the only conclusion that made sense---Hector was behind the vandalism.

  If he could prove his theory, it might discredit Hector, once and for all, dissolving his hold over Natalia. By dispelling the long shadow of her ex-fiancé, Esteban hoped Natalia would open her mind and heart. And give their relationship another chance.

  It was a gamble, but it was a gamble he was willing to take.

  And if anyone could help him get to the bottom of this, it was Paco.

  Glancing up, he saw Paco saunter through the front door of the bar, followed by two youths who looked to be in their late teens. One was small, dark and wiry, with a ferret-shaped face and protuberant teeth. The other youth possessed the heavy frame of a grown man, but his face was smooth and his features immature.

  Paco greeted Esteban loudly, "Hey, broki. ¿Qué pasa?"

  "Así, así, vengasen. The beer is on me," Esteban offered. He signaled to the bartender and indicated for him to bring a round of cervezas.

  Clapping him on the back, Paco said, "That's mi 'pana. Generous to a flaw, eh?" Then he hitched his thumb in the general direction of the two juveniles and said, "This is Felipe." He circled the small youth's shoulder with one burly arm and then brought his other arm around the heavier youth. "And this is Juan. Juan and Felipe, meet mi broki, Esteban. He plays the ball, hombres, you should see him."

  The youths ducked their heads and slid quietly into the booth. But when Paco mentioned baseball, their heads came up and they stared at him, expectant looks on their faces.

  The beers arrived and the two youths took long pulls at their bottles, almost downing them. Esteban ordered another round. Juan and Felipe relaxed, cradling their bottles, glancing around, obviously pleased to be in a bar and drinking before their age allowed it.

  Paco lit a cigarette and offered the pack to the two. They accepted, lighting up and puffing. Then Paco made desultory small talk, about the garage and the cars he worked on, and about Esteban's baseball career.

  The two youths joined in the conversation, at first hesitantly, but after two beers, they became more talkative. Esteban went along with Paco's game, adding a comment or two, especially about playing baseball, enlarging upon his prospects to impress Felipe and Juan.

  After several beers, Paco turned to the youths and asked, "Eh, mi panas, you know the Alberty farm? Saw some trouble, few days back. You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"

  Felipe and Juan exchanged guarded glances, pulled at their beers and shrugged. Felipe shot back, "What's it to you?"

  "No trouble, no trouble, mi 'manos." Paco raised his hands, palms out. "Mi broki," he indicated Esteban, "needs a job done on un hombre malo." He gazed at them steadily. "Can you help?"

  Felipe shrugged. "Yeah, okay. We can do."

  Leaning across the table, Paco whispered, "That was a nice job you pulled. You should be proud."

  Juan, the silent one, nudged Felipe. "I told you."

  "Who paid you?" Paco asked. "¿Cuanto fué?"

  "Some dude in a Beamer, a stranger," Felipe confessed. "Dressed real nice," he added.

  Esteban relaxed a fraction, finding his suspicions confirmed. The description fit Hector; it couldn't have been anyone else.

  "How much?" Paco repeated.

  Juan shot Felipe a look and negotiated, "How about another beer?"

  "Bueno, let's have another round." Paco motioned to the bartender.

  The beers arrived. Felipe leaned across the booth and murmured, "The guy in the Beamer, he overpaid." Gazing directly at Paco, he said, "For you, mi pana," shifting his eyes to Esteban, "or you, two hundred, tops."

  "A good offer, eh?" Paco accepted, glancing at Esteban. Esteban nodded, playing along."Who do you want us to do?" Felipe asked.

  "We'll be in touch, okay," Paco replied. He clapped Felipe on the back. "How about a game of pool?"

  Chapter Ten

  Darkness descended and no Natalia. Pura sighed and wondered where her granddaughter was. Since the vandalism, Natalia had been withdrawn and upset, blaming Pura for not accepting Hector's offer of a new road.

  But she didn't want his road. She might resurface her old road, but she wouldn't let Hector build one through her farm, not as long as she was living.

  She'd come to rely on Natalia, though. Her granddaughter usually gathered the chickens for the night. She muttered under her breath about the irresponsibility of youth and went out to find the chickens in the farmyard. Lifting her apron, she shooed them toward the makeshift coop Esteban had constructed.

  Once she had the chickens inside, she realized her rooster, Zeus, was missing. Surprised he would stray from the hens she secured the coop's door and ventured in
to the night.

  Clucking her tongue, she called, "Giri, giri, giri, giri, Zeus."

  Not finding the rooster, she wandered behind the barn, clucking and calling.

  A cackle greeted her ears. She turned her footsteps toward the sound and called again, "Here, Zeus, here, chick, chick, chick."

  And then the ground opened beneath her, and she was falling. She reached out and grabbed at the dirt to stop her fall, but her hands scraped against something sharp. Blinding pain rushed to greet her and blackness engulfed her.

  ***

  Natalia pushed open the front door and called for Pura. No response. The lights in the house blazed. Her grandmother must be here because she had been in the Chevy. But Pura didn't answer, and a strange sense of foreboding filled Natalia. Since the vandalism, she'd been nervous and jumpy, as if something dreadful was about to happen.

  She knew it was late. She'd purposely stayed late at the library. She'd taken to avoiding Pura as well as Esteban. Their stubborn stance about Hector's road had alienated her, making her feel like an interloper. She'd started looking at apartments again, having settled on a job in Taos.

  Faced with an empty house and no sign of Pura, she chastised herself for leaving her grandmother alone so late. If she was truly concerned for Pura's safety, she would put aside their differences and look out for her abuela, not argue with her. She checked the house and then the barn, but she found them both empty and grew more frantic by the minute.

  Could there be foul play involved? Her desperate thoughts raced. Esteban had repaired and repainted the outbuildings so they looked as good as new. But the awful images of the destruction still haunted her.

  Who would want to hurt Pura? The entire town of Tres Piedras respected and loved her.

  She grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and decided to make a quick inspection of the outbuildings. After that, she would call the police.

  Cutting through the farmyard, she checked the chicken coop and rebuilt tool shed, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Entering the barn, she discovered the cows and Apolinaria safely in their stalls for the night. But no sign of Pura.