Summer Dreams (10 page)

"Sure, of course." She bit her lip. "I'll be fine. Pura should be home in about an hour or so." But it wasn't Pura who she missed already---and he hadn't even left yet.

***

Natalia dried the last dish and put it away. Outside the kitchen window, Esteban, sans shirt, toiled over the tomato plants. It was hot as a firecracker out there, and she couldn't blame him for taking off his shirt. But she could blame him for being so darned good looking with his six-pack abs and bulging biceps. Her face heated, and she found it hard to swallow.

Perspiration glistened on his nut-brown skin. The muscles in his back slid smoothly beneath the surface, bunching and gliding with almost poetic grace. She watched him in a kind of trance, clinging to the side of the kitchen sink until her fingertips tingled. 

She wanted to touch him, to move her hands over his smooth brown skin, to feel the power of his leashed muscles, held in check for her. Strength tempered by tenderness, that was what she remembered from the day he'd rescued her.

Since that day, their relationship had subtly shifted. They'd reclaimed their friendship, and she trusted him again. She knew that, no matter what, she could count on him. And he'd even respected her wishes.

He'd had every opportunity to kiss her that day, and he hadn't. She had wanted him to kiss her. Maybe in response to her terrifying experience. But for now, she was content with their friendship, even though she was attracted to him.

But she wasn't ready for a new relationship. Hector had hurt her more than she'd thought at first. And besides, Esteban wasn't material for a serious relationship. He was two years younger but so much more sexually experienced. If Hector had scorched her with his inconsistency, Esteban was capable of burning her to a crisp. 

Natalia watched as he paused and retrieved a bandana from his hip pocket and wiped his face and neck. Then he reached for his water bottle and emptied it in one long swallow. He tossed the empty bottle to one side and bent down again.

She started to get him a glass of water but had another idea, remembering what he liked to drink during the summer---ice cold lemonade with enough sugar to set your teeth on edge. And she'd seen some lemons in the refrigerator drawer.

Ten minutes later, she nudged the screen door open while balancing a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses in her hands. She stepped onto the porch and called out, "Esteban, I have a surprise for you. Why don't you take a break?"

He gave a final twist to the cloth tie holding a tomato vine to its stake. He straightened slowly, his hand massaging the small of his back. He grabbed his shirt and shrugged it on, buttoning the thin cotton half-way.

If gazing at his back made her want to touch him, seeing his half-clothed chest gave her heart funny flip-flops. She smoothed her perspiring hands on her jeans and stared at a point above his head, trying to avoid the devastating impact of his muscled torso, dusted with curly brown hair.

He grabbed one of the posts, and swung onto the porch in one fluid motion. His eyes widened when he saw the lemonade, and he grinned. "How did you know?"

"Just lucky I guess," she replied. She poured two glasses and handed him one. She sipped at the sugary-sweet liquid and forced herself not to grimace. Esteban finished his glass in one huge gulp. 

"Want more?"

"Of course.
Está muy bien
. You made the lemonade just right." His grin grew wider. "I'm surprised you can stand it, though." He lifted one eyebrow.

She took another sip, and it slid down her throat like so much syrup. Keeping a straight face wasn't easy.

"Can we sit? I need a break," Esteban admitted. "It's so dam--darned hot."

"
Claro qué, sí
," she replied and perched on the edge of one of the antique metal chairs on the porch. "
Por favor
, sit down. I should have offered."

He eyed the ancient chair and its rusty exterior, and his gaze wandered to the porch swing, tucked in a corner under a canopy of blooming honeysuckle. He smiled. "Let's try the porch swing."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Esteban. Pura said the chains are all but rusted through."

"Something else I'll need to see about fixing."

Natalia knew the other thing he wasn't mentioning by name because it was their secret---the old well. With a minimum of fuss, he'd convinced Pura the hole needed a metal cover. He'd gone to the hardware store the day after her accident and replaced it. Luckily, her
abuela
hadn't suspected a thing. 

He crossed to the swing and tugged hard on the chain nearest the porch rail. It held. He looked at her and taunted, "Where's your sense of adventure, Natalia? It will hold, at least for one more time."

"Okay, but don't blame me if we land in a heap."

She rose and filled his glass again. They seated themselves on each end. The chains groaned, grinding against the hooks in the porch roof with a demonic shriek. But they held. 

Stretching out one sandaled foot, Natalia pushed off the porch and started the swing in a gentle rocking motion. Esteban leaned back, arms spread, sighing, "This is it. This is the life. I could stay here all afternoon."

It was nice on the porch swing tucked under the shady canopy of honeysuckle. The perfumed air filled her senses, reminding her of a scented bath. Bees, attracted to the yellow and white flowers, droned in the air, making her drowsy. Even the groan of the chains settled into a rhythmic cadence, like the chirping of crickets on a warm summer night.

Esteban shifted in the swing, leaning forward. He opened his mouth but before he could speak, a loud pop and then a terrifying crack split the air. The swing cavorted crazily, bucking like a wild mustang, before it crashed to the porch.

Tumbled together in a heap of arms and legs, they stared at each other in a dazed kind of wonder. It was Natalia who found her voice first. "I told you the chains were---"

But her words were drowned by his laughter, great, guffawing whoops of it. Feeling self-righteous, she maintained her composure for a split second before she joined him, laughing until her sides ached.

When their laughter was spent, he pointed at the porch roof. "I hate to disagree with you, but it wasn't the chains. This was rotten boards again. More rotten boards. I remember Pura once had a worm farm. She doesn't keep pet termites, does she?"

***

Natalia counted out the necessary change from the strongbox, and the booth operator signed a receipt for it. Pura had enlisted her to oversee the cash proceeds for the church bazaar.  Not that she was any financial wizard, but no one else wanted the job. And as chairman of the bazaar, her grandmother couldn't be everywhere at once.

Natalia couldn't blame the other volunteers for preferring to man the booths. Housed under bright red-and-white awnings, which had been loaned to them by a local catering firm, the bazaar was a vibrant feast for the eye---a veritable cornucopia of treasure.

There were the inevitable white elephant items for sale, but along with this standard fare were the unique handicrafts indigenous to northern New Mexico. Woven rugs in rainbow hues served as dramatic backdrops for finely-crafted silver and turquoise jewelry. Vivid desert paintings intermingled with Navajo pottery. Hand-tooled leather belts nestled beside geometrically-decorated Hopi baskets.

But the booth that fascinated her most held the donations of Tomás Fuentes, a self-styled mountain hermit, who made his living by crafting sculptures from dead wood found in the mountains. Taking cedar wood, bleached silver by time, Fuentes cunningly fashioned them into religious pieces by utilizing the natural shape of the wood. The uniqueness and genius of his sculptures had gained him some notoriety. And the proceeds from eager tourists more than supplied his Spartan needs.

She had her eye on one particular piece, a Madonna cradling the newly-born Christ child. If no one else purchased the sculpture, she'd decided to splurge and buy it at the end of the evening. Glancing toward the booth, she rose on tiptoe, trying to peer above the crowd to see if the Madonna was still there.

Natalia froze.

Standing beside the booth was a familiar jean-clad figure ... Esteban.

And he wasn't alone.

With his arm draped around the shoulders of a russet-haired beauty, he'd stopped to admire the sculptures.

She went cold and then hot. Blazing heat singed her, and she knew her face must look like one of the desert sunset paintings. She dropped down and half-crouched behind her table, hoping to hide.

Now she knew why Esteban hadn't asked her to the bazaar after Pura had talked about it so much. Natalia had thought maybe he was honoring her request not to ask her on a date again. But then she'd wondered why he didn't invite himself to go along with them, kind of as a family outing. She'd waited and waited for him to say something and then disappointment set in, and  she'd thought a church bazaar was too tame for him.

But how wrong she'd been. The bazaar wasn't too tame---he already had a date.

She stared at the saw-dust strewn pavement beneath her feet and studied each piece of shaved wood as if it carried a secret message. She noted the curl of the wood, its peculiar grain and color. Staring at the sawdust bought her some time. Time to calm herself, to breathe normally again, to lessen the painful hammering of her heart.

She'd been right not to date Esteban, she silently congratulated herself. Her level-headedness, no matter how dreary it might be, had paid off. 

Besides, he already had enough women, no need to become a part of his trophy collection. The realization he was dating other people was like taking medicine, bitter on her tongue but healthy in the long run. 

She shook herself. Why was she feeling betrayed? She had no hold on him. She'd made it clear she didn't want that kind of relationship. And he'd obliged, even when it would have been natural to kiss her. Maybe Esteban didn't like his women to play too hard to get. Too bad. He had enough women throwing themselves at him, but she refused to be one of them.

She lifted her head and squared her shoulders. She grabbed the strongbox and stepped from behind the table and ran straight into Esteban's broad chest.

"Natalia, I've been looking all over for you," he said. "I didn't know the bazaar would be so crowded." He stood with his hips cocked forward and a broad grin on his face. She glanced up and saw that he was alone. At least he'd had the decency to ditch his date before he came over.

But alone or with his date, she didn't want to face him. She managed a strangled, "Hi," and pushed past him, heading for the enclosed tent area that served as an office for the bazaar.

She pulled back the canvas and stepped inside, putting the strongbox on the desk. Wanting to occupy her cartwheeling thoughts, she began counting the proceeds, tallying it against the receipts. Before she'd gotten half-way through, the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, and though she hadn't heard Esteban enter the tent, she knew he was there.

She turned around and said, "You can't come in here, Esteban. This office is for volunteers only."

He looked around the space, filled with a rickety desk, a sofa spilling its stuffing, and several ancient chairs and smiled. "Why not? This hardly looks like Fort Knox. I won't steal the proceeds." He edged closer. "I went straight years ago, remember?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "I think you should go back to your date, Esteban.  She doesn't look like the kind of girl who wants to be kept waiting."

"What date?" His brows drew together.

"Oh, please, Esteban, let's not---"

"Let's not what?" He frowned and then his features smoothed. He pointed one finger behind him. "You mean Linda? She's the sister of an old friend and I haven't---"

"You don't need to tell me this."

"But I want to explain, Natalia." He moved closer and touched her shoulder. "You're all tense. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said. "Now if you'll excuse me I have work to do." She turned back to the desk. "I hope you and Linda enjoy the bazaar."

"Screw the bazaar, Natalia! And don't turn away from me again." He placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back around. "I came here to see you. And Linda's not my date. I haven't seen her in years."

"Then why didn't you ask me to come with you?" She shot back, hating herself the minute the words left her mouth. How could she be so stupid as to reveal the depth of her need, the depth of her attachment?

He released her shoulder and rocked back on his heels. His features were a mixture of confusion and stunned disbelief. His gray eyes searched her face.

Finally, he shook his head. "I didn't ask because I thought you didn't want us to date. But that's why I'm here because I knew you'd be here. I wanted to see you and see how Pura's bazaar turned out." He scratched at the stubble covering his chin. "She talked about it enough."

Natalia didn't know what to say. He'd honored her request but had still sought her out. Did his actions mean what she thought they did? And was she ready to test the water again after getting thoroughly scalded? Or was any possible relationship with Esteban doomed from the start, overshadowed by a lifetime of friendship and tainted by her fear of a rebound romance?

"Coming to the bazaar together wouldn't have been exactly a date," Natalia said.

"Okay, then what would you call it?"

She shrugged. "I thought it would be nice if all of us, Pura and you and I, came together.  The bazaar was all Pura talked about last night at supper." To drive home her argument, she added, "And we could have used help setting up. There are never enough volunteers for these things."

He narrowed his eyes and said, "So you needed an extra hand, that's why you wanted me to come."

Detecting the hurt in his voice, she felt a spurt of shame. Was that how it seemed to him?  By not admitting the real reason she wanted him to come, she'd relegated him to just another pair of strong arms and broad shoulders. But that wasn't the whole truth. No, she'd wanted Esteban to ask her to the bazaar. And because Pura would be going with them, it had seemed an innocent way to go out---like a date but not quite. But she hadn't thought about how Esteban would feel, all she'd considered were her own insecurities.