Miles turned his head in the direction she was pointing. The slope up the ridge was more exposed from a lack of groundcover and growth. Dirt at the top of the height made a deep sinkhole, and a large bulging seam rippled below it.
“Yeah, I see.” Miles nodded his head.
“The area just below the notch in the hillside is prime for a landslide. If it gets much more rain this season, it’ll likely let go. The village will definitely need that property as part of the project. Really, all of the land along this whole hillside.”
Miles sighed. “Hm.”
He felt Kara adjust behind him. “Is there a problem?”
“Eh,” he answered. “I’ll go introduce you to him. Maybe he’ll like you.”
Miles guided the horse farther along the muddy road until the gray concrete walls and thatched roof came into view. It was likely they’d find Hector with his cattle, so Miles continued past the house and into the surrounding coffee and pinto bean groves.
“Mr. Rodriguez!” he called with his hand cupped to his mouth. “Are you here?”
After a minute a scratchy voice called back in Spanish, “Yes. Who is it?”
Miles followed the sounds up ahead and found the elderly man beside a cow, with its hoof in his hand. Hector’s deep coppery skin was grooved with wrinkles around his cheeks and eyes. His white hair was barely visible beneath the brim of his pale cowboy hat. When he saw Miles, he straightened.
“What do you want?”
It already wasn’t going well. Miles cleared his throat and answered, “I came to introduce you to Kara Mason. She’s here to help the village with the landslide and water problems. She saw your healthy heifers grazing and wanted to meet you.”
The man’s eyes narrowed as his focus turned to Kara, who waved. He knew she wasn’t aware of the conversation that had passed between the men, but she said with a bright voice, “Hola, señor.”
Hector let go of the cow’s hoof and rested his hand on the animal’s back. “There’s nothing an outsider can do for us—you’re proof of that. We can take care of ourselves and don’t need help from people like you. How do you think we’ve survived so long? Our ancestors are survivors, and we have been taking care of our own without anyone else’s help.”
Miles stared at the stern and stony gaze of the elder Honduran when Kara whispered, “What’d he say?”
For once he was glad she hadn’t understood their Spanish. He didn’t know how to answer either of them. Annoyed by Hector’s response, he gripped the reins tight in his fists and forced himself to take a moment to think of a response that wouldn’t make the situation worse. Through pursed lips, he said to the old man, “No one is stronger than you, Mr. Rodriguez. I hope to see you at the town hall tomorrow for the presentation. Good day.”
He turned the horse around and nodded to Hector before leaving. Miles knew how proud and resilient Hondurans could be. It was something to be respected. But it didn’t take away the sting of Hector’s words. Anger mixed with guilt over his inability to help El Punto with their water table issues.
“Should I guess that didn’t go well?” Kara asked quietly.
“You could say that. He’s a stubborn old man who doesn’t think he needs any help.”
His body was tired from sitting on the horse for so long—Miles was far from being a rancher. He knew if he was hurting, she had to be too, so he decided it was time to take a break and reveal the prime reason HTC had sought her help.
Miles offered over his shoulder, “I’m done for the day. But if you’d like, I can take you into town and show you the well.”
Just thinking about it made him tense. The tendons in his neck strained, and he clenched his jaw. He pulled on the reins, directing the horse the way they’d come. The animal moved fluidly once they were back on smooth terrain. The Santos home came into view and he said, “We can drive into the village, or walk, if you’re tired of riding. Whatever you’d prefer.”
To his surprise, he felt her hook her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans. “No, this is okay. I don’t get to take a horse into town just any day.”
That small action made his anxiety ease, and with a flick of his hips, he called, “Arre!”
The horse picked up its pace, trotting across the grass toward the home. Kara gasped. Her legs flexed against his, then her arms wrapped around his waist. Giggles, interspersed with gasps, escaped her lips and carried to his ears. They passed the Santos home, but once they got to the long dirt road that led to town, he slowed the horse down.
“That was…different,” Kara said.
“Something you’d look forward to if you lived in a place like this?”
“I think so.”
The ride was over too soon for Miles. He may have been sore, but he’d grown attached to having her so close. The concrete slab that housed the well could be seen from the road. Its metallic hand pump gleamed in the light. A narrow path led up to it from the street. At the trailhead, a wooden post rose from the earth.
“Time to get off,” he said over his shoulder.
Kara swung herself off the back of the horse and landed safely on the gravel street. Her face was flushed and her eyes bright from the ride. She waited for him as he joined her on the ground and tied the reins to the post. It always took him a minute to adjust after getting off the back of a horse, especially after such a long ride. Instead of focusing on the ache in his legs, or the tingling in his stomach from her hands resting on his waist, his thoughts turned to the setback that had brought Kara here, and his mood soured.
“C’mon, the well’s just this way.” He started up the trail and heard her footfalls just behind.
It was a short distance to the well. When they arrived, Kara asked, “This looks just like the other one—why aren’t you happy with it?”
Miles shook his head and crossed his arms. He hated it when no matter how hard he tried, things didn’t go his way. He could usually get around most issues, but the well at El Punto had become the thorn in his side that he couldn’t fix.
“Because they don’t have enough trees covering these hills and valleys, the water table’s been affected. They had enough water at first, but once they used it regularly, the water level fell lower and they haven’t been able to get a reliable flow. Just like Hector said, I haven’t helped them, not really.”
He rubbed the tip of his hiking shoe against the edge of the concrete block. His fingers curled into tight fists while frustration built inside once again.
“He said that? But that’s not your fault,” she said from beside him. “Without the trees’ root systems, the land can’t absorb the water, and it turns into runoff that winds up in the ocean instead of adding to the water table below.”
He answered through clenched teeth, “I came here to help—and all I did for the people in this village was offer false hope. They still need to walk to the next village for potable water on a bad day. How is that helping?”
Warm fingers curled over his shoulder. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Miles laughed. “Isn’t it a bit early?”
“No, seriously. Didn’t I see a little market in the town center? Do they have soft drinks?” She dropped her hand from his shoulder and pulled at his elbow.
He allowed himself to get led back to the street. The humid air was heavy in his lungs, and a cold drink sounded good. As they passed the horse, Kara asked, “Is it safe to leave our ride here?”
“That’s what the post’s for,” he answered.
She let go of his arm and began to walk toward the buildings down the street. He watched her legs carry her away from him, enjoying the view.
Kara recognized the same painted wall she’d noticed when they’d driven through last night. A wooden bin filled with plantains held the door open. Chairs surrounded two round, rusty metal tables just outside. Music wafted out onto the road from a scratchy radio set.
She peered in through the doorway. A voice called out, “Entra! Entra!”
Miles ar
rived by her side and the woman cried, “Miles! Dónde has estado?”
“Hola, Marta.” He breezed past Kara to offer the woman a handshake, but she pulled him into a sideways hug instead. She struck up a conversation with him. Although Kara didn’t know exactly what they were saying, she could tell the shopkeeper had a soft spot for Miles.
By his tone and inflection, Kara knew he’d asked a question. “Sí, sí, sí,” the older woman said and walked over to a small refrigerator. She pulled out two glass bottles of soda pop. From her waist pouch, Kara found a few lempira notes and handed them over in exchange for the drinks.
After thanking her, the woman spoke again. Miles leaned in and said, “This is Marta—she wants to know your name.”
“Yo soy Kara.”
Marta grinned at her and shook her hand, then bubbled away to Miles in Spanish, although Kara couldn’t understand what she was saying because of the rate at which words were coming out of her mouth. Kara looked questioningly at Miles, who answered back, “She says she hopes you’ll be able to help with their problems here. Maybe you can do better than I have, or maybe I just haven’t tried hard enough yet.” He frowned, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Kara handed him one of the cold sodas and asked, “Can we sit a minute before heading back to Enmanuel’s?”
Miles shrugged, said a few parting words to Marta and stepped outside into the daylight. Kara waved and offered a smile before joining him beside the metal table and chairs that sat in the sun. The warmth of the day clung to every pore, impossible to avoid. Miles pulled out a chair for her and she lowered herself onto it, thankful it wasn’t shaped like the back of a horse.
She held onto her soda, enjoying the cool moisture that condensed on the glass. Kara twisted off the metal cap and flipped it onto the table before taking a sip. Bubbles fizzed on her tongue as she swallowed a mouthful of the sugary liquid.
From the corner of her eye, Kara watched Miles lower himself onto the chair beside hers and lean forward. Resting his elbows on his knees, he held the neck of the bottle in one hand and with the other raked his fingers through his hair. His hazel eyes squinted along the dirt road they’d driven on last night.
She’d observed his mood sour ever since he’d mentioned the well. It was clear to her that he cared about the town and its people. “Do you know everyone’s name here?”
He took a minute before answering. “Yeah, it’s not that big a town. How could I have helped meeting everyone after living here nearly a month?”
“Must have a good memory.”
“Ah, it’s okay. It has done me wrong before, but not when it comes to my neighbors.”
Kara took another sip of her soda and held the bottle to her forehead, happy to absorb the cooler temperature. “Seems like besides Mr. Rodriguez, everyone likes you here—they treat you like family.”
“Despite my nature—so it seems.” His lips formed a straight line.
“Yeah, and that’s saying something,” she said.
He turned and stared, unblinking, at her. His cheeks lifted, and his laughter echoed across the street. She couldn’t contain her smile and snickered into her soda. When things quieted, she faced him. “It appears that they’re simply returning the feelings and appreciation that you’re giving them. Anyone could see how much you care. They don’t blame you for doing everything in your power to help them, so why should you?”
Miles simply watched her in response. It wasn’t until a good two minutes had passed that he leaned in and took her by surprise, saying, “I think I’m beginning to be glad you’re here.”
Her heart had a peculiar reaction to his words. It flickered and skipped a beat. None of it made sense. He was just some guy. She barely knew him, and she was here for a reason. A purpose. And it wasn’t to fall for some bilingual, tall, dark and handsome workaholic.
“I get the sense that’s a compliment coming from you,” she said with a soft voice.
Kara bit the inside of her lip. She needed his optimism to support her mission. Maybe he could see the glass as half full, even though he’d made it clear he was a pessimist. “Well, based on my research and what I’ve seen, I think growing bamboo would help the people here.”
Miles asked, “Does that mean you want to use El Punto for your program?”
“That’s why I’m here. As long as they’re willing to sign on the dotted line. Do you think they’ll do it?”
He leaned back in his seat. “If you show them you care and you know what you’re talking about, I don’t see why not.”
“What about Hector?” She recalled his sour voice and stony expression. “His land is an important piece of the puzzle.”
“He’s stubborn, that’s for sure. It might take a little help to make him see reason, but it’s possible.”
“You’ll help me?” She held her breath and waited for his response.
Miles took a swig from his drink and kept his eyes on the opposite side of the street. “What do you need?”
“I’ll definitely need some translating help. Although I catch words I understand, I won’t be able to communicate like I wish I could. I tried to learn Spanish before I left, but when I’m on the spot my mind goes blank and I forget everything I learned.”
“No problem. I’ve got you covered.”
“Really?”
He stared at her. “Really. But it’s nearing noon, and lunch is kind of a big deal around here. We should get home to eat and put our feet up for the heat of the day.”
“I could eat,” Kara said.
She got up and tossed her empty bottle in a trash bin beside the exterior door. Miles did the same and walked with her back to their ride home. The chestnut snorted and stomped its foot when they approached. Kara rubbed her palm on its forehead, noticing her reflection in the horse’s large brown eyes.
It was a quick ride back to the Santos house, which she was thankful for. A full morning of sitting on the horse’s back left her legs achy and sore. When they approached the home, the whole family could be seen on the covered porch. The smell of fresh tortillas and refried beans hung in the air. It made her stomach rumble with hunger.
“Buenas tardes, Miles y Kara,” Alita called to them.
Miles waved and guided the horse around the back of the home to the stable area. He offered her his hand when it was time to get down, then joined her on the ground. He lifted the reins over the horse’s ears and tied them to a post beside a basin of water. He thoroughly patted the animal’s flanks, and it whinnied in response.
They followed their noses around to the outdoor kitchen. Elías and Enmanuel held plates of half-eaten food. Handshakes were dispensed in greeting, then they were both handed their own dishes of lunch.
Elías offered her his seat, which she settled onto to eat her meal. While Kara ate, she watched everyone around her in conversation. Alita called across the porch to Miles, grinning and laughing. Kara caught the words pretty and woman and suspected that he was being teased by the Santos matriarch.
Kara had never been a part of a large family. Her memories of holidays involved her father and herself eating a meal on the couch in front of the fireplace. Kara’s favorite picture, which she’d framed and hung in her living room, showed her mother holding her when she was two years old. Her father’s arm wrapped around them both as they stood beside a lit Christmas tree. It had been their last holiday together.
She had never experienced any meal quite like the one here with the Santos family. Family filled your heart with love, and love made you feel at home. While Kara observed this large group of relatives spending time with each other, talking, laughing and teasing, she wanted more than anything to help every person she’d met on this trip. Her intentions hadn’t changed from the point she’d landed to this moment, but her heart had changed. She could see where Miles’s passion came from—the people he was helping.
This project meant more than anything to her. It was her life’s work to find a solution to a growing pro
blem that had both global and community-scale implications. She had to make this work for the people of El Punto and the other villages and towns that needed immediate relief.
After eating her fill, she pulled out the map she’d brought of the area and asked Miles, “I need to label the landowners on the map before I get started on my plan. Do you know enough to help me out?”
Miles watched her flatten the folded paper on her lap. “I know names, but Enmanuel knows who owns what. Hey, Enmanuel—podrías ayudarnos?”
The elder Santos sauntered over to them and looked down at the map. He mumbled something and she recognized the word nap. Miles responded to him, resting his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Sí, sí,” Enmanuel said and squatted down beside her. He began to point at different areas on the map, and Miles translated for him. Kara noted names and property lines in pencil until the whole village was covered in notes.
Kara thanked her host, who nodded and disappeared into his house. She noticed everyone had quieted down, finding their own place to nap and rest. Miles asked, “You going to take a siesta too?”
As tired as she was from the new and exciting events over the last few days, she wanted to spend her time wisely. Her presentation needed some adjustments after what she’d seen over the course of her tour through the village, and now that she had labeled the map, she needed to draw up the plans for planting.
“I could use one, but I have some work I need to do. Do you mind if I disappear for a while?”
Miles shook his head. “No. I wanted to help a family at the edge of town with repairs to their roof.”
“Won’t they be resting too?” Kara asked.
“Probably.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll never win a congeniality contest, but at least they won’t get wet in the next storm. I’ll check in with you later.”
She shook her head and snickered. When so many people might be happy to stop and rest, he persisted. Was he some kind of superman?
Kara watched him walk away from her. His feet scuffed along the dirt road, his dark hair and tan skin gleamed in the sunlight. Possibly sensing her eyes on him, or for another reason altogether, he turned back to glance at her and their eyes met. His lips curled up before he focused on the path ahead.
Love Takes Root: A contemporary romance novella Page 7
