Summer Dreams (6 page)

But what about a harmless fling?

What the heck was she thinking? She couldn't just jump into bed with a man because she desired him. That wasn't like her. And as much as she wanted to re-evaluate her approach to life and be more spontaneous, this was one part of her character she couldn't change.  

 "A penny for your thoughts, Nieta." Esteban startled her. 

Glancing up, she found he'd cleaned his plate and was watching her. A rush of heat suffused her, and she knew she was blushing. Could he read her thoughts? She rose from her seat, wanting to cover her embarrassment. "Would you care for more? We've plenty."

He smiled and patted his washboard-flat abdomen. "I better not. Coach doesn't like us to gain weight."

Nodding, she turned to her grandmother. Pura had eaten one-third of her plate before drowsing off in the chair---her grandmother's customary ritual at supper. But tonight, Natalia wished her
abuela
had stayed awake. She didn't want to be left alone with Esteban.

 His gaze followed hers, and he murmured, "She's getting old, isn't she?" His voice wavered and caught, "I don't like seeing her growing old."

Touched by his undisguised concern, a portion of her defenses melted. She shook her head, admitting, "Pura can't live forever."

There was that between them, at least. Their mutual love for Pura. Natalia didn't know which of them loved her grandmother more fiercely. She, because of the blood tie, or Esteban because there wasn't a blood tie and Pura believed in him.

Their gazes caught and locked across the table. A tremor ran through her, and she trembled.  Esteban must have noticed because he asked, "Do you want me to close a window? It's cool in here." 

"No, I'm fine. I like the mountain air."

He nodded and extended his hand across the table. She dropped her gaze, afraid to clasp his hand. Afraid of the sensations that passed between them when they touched.

He withdrew his hand and sighed. "I worry about Pura. When I can't come to the farm for a few days, I worry about her."

"You needn't worry anymore. I'm going to stay with her. After this summer, I'll be accredited to teach in New Mexico. I've already applied in Tres Piedras and other towns close by."

"You're staying here?" His voice was an odd mixture of hope, tinged with doubt and something else she couldn't quite define.

"
Sí
, I'm staying in New Mexico. You seem surprised. I thought you told me once that I belonged here. That the mountains are my true home."

He pushed back from the table and crossed his legs. "I remember telling you that, but we were just kids then." Slanting his gaze at her, he said, "Are you ready to leave everything behind?"

She understood what he was asking. Was she really over Hector? She knew she was over him but that wasn't the extent of Esteban's question. What he was asking went much deeper than that. And how should she answer him? She didn't want Hector, but she didn't want to fall into another bad relationship, spawned from loneliness and fed by sexual urges. But if she told Esteban the truth, he'd feel scorned. She'd already hurt him by refusing once.  

Madre de Dios
, she didn't want to hurt him again.

 "I'm glad you'll be here for Pura." He hadn't waited for her to answer.

Despite her earlier reticence, he reached across the table and took her hand in his. His warm flesh shocked her, his simple touch unbelievably intimate in the quiet dining room. She lowered her eyes to the half-empty plate and caught her breath. How could someone who felt so right, be so wrong?

***

Esteban lounged outside the garage. Customers came and went, roaring off with their engines newly rebuilt. It was past closing time, and he was tired of waiting when Paco finally emerged from the cavernous interior.

Sweat and grime mingled on Paco's face, giving it a macabre cast. He stopped outside the doors, reached into a greasy shirt pocket and drew forth a package of cigarettes. Cupping his hands around the flare of a match, he lit up.

Esteban moved forward. "Hey, Paco.
¿Qué pasa?
"

Paco's head jerked up and then a wide smile spread across his filthy face. He stretched out a greasy hand and pounded Esteban on his shoulder.
"¿Cómo estas, broki?"

He clasped Paco's hand and felt transported back to another part of his life.
Broki
was Spanglish jive for brother. He hadn't talked jive in a very long time, and he felt guilty for not visiting Paco in months. Were his ambitions turning him into a snob? Paco was the only friend he'd kept after living with Pura and going straight.

He'd stayed friends with Paco because the mechanic had cleaned up his act, working hard to support a family he'd accidentally started at fifteen. His friend hadn't been gifted with the same breaks he had. Paco had served his time and emerged to find his wife and infant living in abject poverty. And Esteban could talk to Paco because Paco was a good listener.

"
Así, así
," Esteban replied and shrugged.

"So, it's that way, eh? Wait until you're in trouble to come to your
'mano
," Paco chided.  "Want a cig?"

"No." Esteban waved his hand. "I'm in training."

"Still playing the ball?"

"
Sí
."

"How about a
cerveza
? Or is that outlawed too?"

"It is." Esteban grinned. "But a beer sounds good. I'm buying."

"Of course,
mi pana
. I expected it." Paco slung his arm around Esteban's shoulders.  "Come around more often, I miss you."

"
Sí
, I miss you too." His throat grew tight. "How are María and the boys?"

"Never better. You should give Manuel, my youngest, lessons. He wants to grow up and be a great ball player."

"I might just do that."

"Name the time and place."

Esteban considered for a moment. Paco wasn't joking; he was serious, and he doubted his friend would be put off with a sometime excuse. Actually, Esteban liked the idea of working with a youngster who wanted to perfect his baseball skills.  

"Next Tuesday after six. How's that?"

"
Bueno
. María and I will expect you. You'll have supper with us." 

"
Sí
, I would like that."

"It's settled then. Manuel will be in heaven."

A few steps later, they entered a local tavern. The bar was dark inside and dank with the sour odor of beer. They approached the bar and ordered two Coronas.  

Curling his hands around the sweating beer bottle, Esteban hesitated. How to begin?  Paco was a married man with a family. Compared to his friend, he was stuck in puberty, skulking around like a moon-struck calf. He felt ridiculous, at twenty-five years old, asking advice about his love life. And it wasn't as if he hadn't had plenty of experience. He had. But nothing that prepared him for the way he felt about Natalia.

"
Dime
," Paco demanded. "It's about that girl, Pura's granddaughter, isn't it? What's her name?"

He gazed at his old friend. Was he that obvious? Had he always been that obvious? 

He ducked his head and took a long pull at his beer. Hell, it had always been about Natalia. Even Paco, whom he hadn't seen for months, knew it. How long had he been carrying the torch? He didn't know, unable to remember a time he hadn't wanted her.

"
Sí
," he confessed, "it's about Pura's granddaughter, Natalia."

Paco nodded sagely and finished his beer quickly, asking the bartender for another. 

Esteban waited until Paco was served, vaguely aware of the spirited salsa number playing on the jukebox. And then he blurted, "I want her."

"Then ask her out,
mi pana
."

"I tried that. She refused me."

Paco released a low whistle. "She turned you down?"

His friend had often vicariously thrilled to Esteban's conquests. Paco possessed a good-humored but ugly face, and he was short for a man. His María had been the only woman who'd taken him seriously.

"Natalia's college educated. All of her family is, and they're professionals. She was engaged to a rich guy in Dallas. You should have seen the ring. The damned thing would have made a great door-stop."

"Feeling a little out of your league, eh?" Paco asked.

"
Sí.
"

Paco grunted and shook out another cigarette, hunching forward to light it. "You say she was engaged. Then she's free now?"

"
Sí
, I think so. But I'm not sure. I don't think she wants to give up the security of being engaged. Natalia is very security conscious. Always has been, since she was a girl."

"And you can't give her security." Paco nudged him. "Just a roll in the hay."

Esteban slid back on the barstool and stared at his old friend. Is that how he looked to Natalia? It was true he wanted her, but with Natalia, it was more than that. He would give his right arm to offer her the kind of security she needed ... if only she would have him.

"No, I want to marry her," he said, "if she'll have me."   

"Now we're getting somewhere." Paco took a final drag from his cigarette and stubbed it out. "Does she know you finished your associate degree? Has she seen you play ball?"

"
Sí
, but I don't think she's impressed. Oh, she's nice enough," he said and lifted his beer, finishing it in one gulp.

"Forget her. She's a snob then." Paco, who was a great listener but liked black-and-white solutions, declared. As if the decision was already made, he turned toward the bartender and waved for another round.

How many times had Esteban vowed to do just that? Only to be brought to his knees again, the next time he saw her. How many times had he sworn he would leave Pura's employ so he wouldn't have to see Natalia again? More times than he could count. But he couldn't bring himself to do that to Pura, despite the pain her granddaughter caused him. 

Or was he fooling himself? As much as he loved Pura, did he continue to work for her because he knew he would see Natalia?

And she had told him she was going to stay in New Mexico. He couldn't ignore the situation any longer. He had to make a decision---that was what had driven him to seek Paco out, to help him sort his thoughts.

"Sometimes I think she's a snob, but other times ... I'm not so sure, Paco. I think she wants life tied up in a pretty ribbon with no conflicts or problems."

"She's a baby then. You want to be saddled with an infant?"

"No," he agreed, adding, "But she's very strong too. When she puts her mind to something, she goes after it and gets it."

Paco touched his arm and grinned. "I wish she would go after you and stop your suffering."

Esteban sighed. "Yeah, me too."

"So, you can't let her go. She's in your blood, eh,
mi 'mano
."

"She's in my heart,
sí
."

"Ah, then you must make her want you, too."

"How do I do that?"

"Don't ask her out again. But be available. You work on her grandmother's farm, so it should be easy to hang around. Suggest walks or picnics. Touch her when you can but be casual. If there's any hope, she'll come around."

"I think she likes my touch," Esteban said, staring at his empty beer bottle.

"Eh,
mi pana
," Paco said, "then don't despair. There's hope."

***

Today was Tuesday and because it was Tuesday, it was market day. Like summer followed spring, Natalia knew Pura didn't like to upset the natural order of things. Tuesday had always been Pura's market day, rain or shine, avalanche or blizzard. Unless it was a Saint's Day, and then all bets were off. For the hundredth time, Natalia wondered if Pura's obsessive/compulsive complex had invaded her, rendering her life organized but dull and predictable. 

Natalia's mother wasn't particularly organized. And her father preferred controlled chaos, at least around the house. When it came to his profession as an attorney, he was meticulous. But Natalia craved perfection and organization in all facets of her life. Had Pura infected her while she wasn't looking?

Shaking her head, she let the screen door slam behind her. She'd risen early and with Pura, they'd already gathered the eggs, fed the chickens, milked Hera and Diana, and eaten breakfast. There was only one morning chore left---to milk the nanny goat, Apolinaria.

Natalia despised milking that damned goat. 

Apolinaria was a perverse and obstinate creature, given to unaccountable bursts of temper. But with Pura, she was as docile as a newborn lamb. That was why Pura usually milked her, but this morning, Apolinaria hadn't seen fit to turn up at the barn. 

And Natalia refused to admit she wasn't up to the task. Sending her
abuela
to town, she'd promised Pura she would find and milk the goat. 

The barn doors stood cocked open. Her grandmother had left them that way to encourage Apolinaria to return to her stall. When Natalia grasped one door to widen the opening, she heard muffled sounds from within. Cautious but not unduly alarmed, she hesitated.

Faint groans followed by outraged bleating assaulted her ears. Curses singed the air. Startled, she released the door and jumped back, her ears burning. Not that she hadn't heard as bad or worse. She'd suffered through enough action films with Hector to be well-versed in the finer points of profanity.

But she hadn't expected such words to be coming from the barn.

Her heart sprinted, as if running a marathon. The farm was miles from town, linked by a rutted road. Her grandmother had taken the only vehicle. What if a thug was hiding in the barn? Panicked, she turned toward the house. She would lock herself in and call for the police.  But something stopped her. She knew that voice, and the voice belonged to Esteban.

What was he doing here, unannounced? And why was he cursing?

Her fright forgotten, she marched to the barn and slipped through the open doors. The gloom of the wooden building enveloped her, and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. Not wanting Esteban to notice her, she hugged the inside of the door and stayed quiet. Peering over the stalls, she discovered what the fuss had been about. He'd cornered Apolinaria and was milking her.  The nanny goat appeared to have surrendered after the initial skirmish. She stood tied to the stall, contentedly munching hay.