“A present? What is it?” one woman asked with her hand on her hip.
“Gather everyone you can, so Kara can tell you all about it,” he said.
The woman’s eyes combed over Kara as though she were searching for a sign of the mysterious present before she walked off. Maria came out of her house and threw her hands into the air. “Miles! You’re back so soon! And Kara too—I thought we wouldn’t see her again.”
He offered her a handshake and a grin. “Just my luck, she wanted to see all of you again. She also brought something for the village.”
“Is it more soap?” Maria asked, wiping her hands off on a worn blue cloth.
Miles shook his head. “Not soap—something else, but we want to tell everyone about it because we need some help. Will you get everyone so we can explain?”
“Of course.” She gave a toothy grin to Kara and started down the hill, calling out, “Come out, come out—Miles has a surprise for us!”
Over the next ten minutes, more and more villagers began to surround Kara and Miles. A flock of children rushed up, cutting in front of the adults. Behind them appeared Armando. One of the children called out, “It’s Kara!”
Pedro ran forward and shook her hand with enthusiasm. His little sister, Lily, shadowed him and giggled nearby. From the happy expression on Kara’s face, he could tell she was struggling not to cry.
“What’s the surprise?” a man asked his neighbor.
Miles turned to Kara. “What do you want me to tell them?”
She blinked at him, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if she was prepared to talk, but he should have known better. She cleared her throat. “Tell them I hope I’ve brought a solution to a few of their problems. I’ve brought bamboo that we can plant in their village to help with the smell of stagnant water, and to help clarify the graywater created at the well and the wastewater from the outhouse you’re making them.”
He began to translate what she’d said, and she continued to speak beside him. “If they can successfully propagate the bamboo, they can use it for burning in their stoves so the smoke doesn’t make them sick. They can make charcoal to sell to other villages—it burns hot and clean. The plant grows fast and matures quickly compared to other trees. Bamboo can be used for building materials—its strength is impressive.”
She paused, looking at all of the villagers’ faces. “We don’t have much time. We need to plant them now before it gets dark. I’m leaving tomorrow—this is my last chance to help before I go.”
Kara turned her worried eyes to Miles. This had been the condensed version of the pitch she’d given El Punto, although she’d had slides, samples and a far more detailed presentation for them. She wasn’t trying to get anyone to commit to growing groves of plants on their land. There were less than twenty stalks on the roadside up the slope. She just needed help and willing participants.
Miles saw the confusion in the villagers’ faces. “Please listen. This woman has come here with an open heart. She wants to help the people of Honduras and most of all, she wants to help you. There’s no risk for you. She has an idea that could help all the people in this town. I would listen to her—I trust her.”
The people began talking to each other. There wouldn’t be time for a long discussion. They would have to either accept the gift or not. His chest tightened and he crossed his arms.
“What can we do?” Maria’s husband hollered from beside her. Other voices echoed the sentiment.
A quick exhalation burst from Miles’s lips. Kara turned to him with wide eyes, waiting for the news. “They want to know how they can help.”
Her face brightened. At the sight of it, his chest tightened again, but not for the same reason.
She asked him, “Are there any shovels?”
“Yeah, I have some with my gear, and there’s probably one or two around here as well.”
Her eyes unfocused, and he could tell she was going into planning mode. After a minute, she announced, “I need to bring the rhizomes down, and I’ll place them in the locations they should be planted. We need volunteers to dig holes beside them. They’ll need to fit the width of the series of stalks and go a foot and a half deep. We’ll also need some manure—”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he answered. He watched her run up the trail to the road and the waiting plants, then told the villagers the plan.
Pedro volunteered. “I will dig a hole!”
His father, Andrés, rustled his son’s hair and said, “And I’ll help him. We also have manure from the animals I can bring.”
More voices chimed in, offering help, tools and manpower. Before long, everyone marched off in different directions, all focused on their own tasks. Miles ran up the hillside to the car and popped the trunk to pull out a folding shovel. Some of the men followed him up and began to line up beside Kara, who was carefully handing out the banana-leaf-wrapped samples of bamboo to get taken down into the village. She smiled at him as he rushed past.
He deposited the folding shovel beside Maria’s home before he ran off to the outhouse he’d begun to build on the outskirts of town. There, he gathered another shovel that he’d left covered with plastic and checked on the hardened cement. Although it was moist from the environment, it appeared to have finished setting properly.
He hurried back to Maria’s house in time to see villagers begin to carry the bamboo samples down the slope. Kara was with them, her arms wrapped around a series of three stalks. Her legs were bent low as she walked, but her face was pinched in a determined expression. Miles leaned the shovel against the side of Maria’s home and went to meet Kara and offer help.
“No, I’m fine,” she answered. “Almost there. If you want to help, there’s one more up the hill to bring down.”
“Got it.” He waited for the volunteers to pass him before rushing to grab the last stalks of bamboo.
A crowd of people had gathered around Kara again. She was on the hillside that led down to the schoolhouse, where all of the rhizomes had been laid out. When Kara saw him, her eyes brightened and she called, “I need my translator again.”
Miles set his plant samples down by the others and walked beside her. “Fire away.”
“Okay, I need to know who has a garden or farm—who handles plants.”
After he asked the question to the villagers, many hands went up, including Pedro’s and his family’s.
“Excelente,” Kara muttered in response. “Would you ask them if they’re willing to learn about how to care for the bamboo and how to propagate it? These plants are only the start. If they want this to work, they’ll need to make a nursery to grow more.”
The people who’d raised their hands began to nod their heads when Miles asked. Even the villagers who hadn’t, offered to learn.
“Because we don’t have as many samples as they really need, I think I’ll have them planted here and below the outhouse. Once they’re established and they start a nursery, they’ll be able to transplant them.”
Miles narrated for over an hour while Kara taught all of the willing participants about the bamboo, its uses and how to propagate it successfully. Armando took notes in a journal while she spoke, and she answered every question that was asked. Soon after, she began to instruct them on how to place the rhizomes into the holes.
“Wait!” Miles said.
The look Kara gave him was a mixture of surprise and confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Aren’t you missing a step?” he asked.
She frowned and stopped. “No…”
Miles called Armando over and asked for a sheet of paper. He folded it in sixths and tore the sections carefully. “Isn’t it tradition to plant a wish in the roots? Your father’s wish came true, so why shouldn’t theirs?”
He handed them out to the people standing closest to him, explained the significance and asked Armando to grab some pencils. When he glanced over at Kara, she had sat down beside one of the bamboo plants. Her gardening gloves had been removed, and she
was staring at her hands.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded her head silently with pursed lips.
“Here.” He stepped closer and held out a small piece of paper and a pencil. “When was the last time you made a wish?”
When she didn’t accept the items, he squatted down, placed them in her hand and held them there. Her voice came out soft and low. “Not since he passed away.”
He could see the pain below the surface and didn’t want to push too hard. But he wanted her to see the potential of her life—to reach for whatever she wanted. “Give yourself permission to dream.”
The corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. The sadness reflected in her green eyes dissolved away until a single tear dropped to the earth. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.
“Thanks,” she whispered. Chills raked down his spine from her breath on his neck and he pulled away, surprised. She let go of him and cupped the paper and pencil in her hand, unaware of his reaction. “If I’m writing one, then you are too, right? It was your idea.”
His mind went blank. It had been his idea, sure, but he hadn’t actually planned on making a wish himself. Kara waited expectantly for his response.
“Right.”
He got up and walked away so he could think. Armando was eagerly handing out bits of paper and pencils to the villagers, who were excited about the idea of writing a wish. He got his own paper and pencil and figured something would come to him. He was running low on supplies to build the outhouse and Maria could use a chimney, but none of that was for himself. It seemed like he’d be breaking some rule if his wish was for others.
This was stupid. All he had to do was write, “world peace,” and no one would know or care about what was on his paper. It wasn’t like he really thought it would come true. Hard work and perseverance were what made dreams come true. But maybe acknowledging what he wanted for himself was a step in the right direction.
He scrawled two words on the paper and balled it up. Then he walked over to one of the holes and tossed it in. It didn’t take long for everyone else to write their own wishes and prepare to plant the rhizomes.
Buckets of manure had been brought to the hillside, and small amounts were placed around the soil where the bamboo stalks were going to be planted. Kara removed the bags that covered the stalks long enough to pour water in them so they’d stay moist. After she helped with the first one, she had the villagers plant the others themselves so they could learn the process. Most of the stalks were planted on the hillside above the school, and the rest were planted down the slope below the outhouse.
The sun had begun to dip down in the sky. When the last bamboo rhizome made it into the ground, it was twilight. The smell of food in the air made Miles’s stomach rumble. His arms were dirty and tired from digging holes, but he was always happiest after a hard day’s work.
Kara was doing her best to talk with Pedro’s father, Andrés, when Miles joined her. Her forehead wrinkled. “I’m not sure what he’s asking.”
It only took a moment of listening to discover what he wanted. Miles explained, “He’s asking if bamboo is too hard to carve.”
“Oh!” Kara exclaimed. “He can carve it. In fact, I can give him the samples that are in my suitcase.”
Miles translated the news and Andrés thanked her before walking off to join his family. Kara sighed as she watched him go. Her hair was falling out of a haphazard ponytail at the top of her head. Dirt covered her gloved hands and arms up to her elbows. She rubbed the back of her hand against her neck, and a smudge was left in its place.
He raised his hand to wipe it off when he realized he was dirtier than she already was and let his hand fall to his side. She laughed with him when he shrugged and said, “I guess that’s why you wear gloves.”
The open area beside Maria’s house was beginning to fill with villagers. Their animated voices filled the air while they set out tables, chairs and lit candles.
“Looks like they’re going to give you a proper sendoff tonight.”
Her brows pulled into a frown. “They don’t have to do that. I don’t want them going out of their way for me.”
“They have more hope now than they had yesterday. It’s reason to celebrate.”
Kara peeled off her gardening gloves and said, “Well, I should go grab that sample for Pedro’s dad and get cleaned up.”
“I’ll join you.” Miles rubbed his hands together, trying to get off the excess dirt.
They walked up the trail to the road and car. He popped the trunk so he could pull out their sleeping bags and Kara’s suitcase. She leaned over to open it on the ground and grabbed the bamboo sample she’d used at El Punto. After her luggage was placed back in the car, they wandered down the slope to the well.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful for my shower,” she said as she reached for the handle of the well’s pump. “Good thing I’m so used to getting dirty.”
Miles rubbed his jaw. “Last time I had a shower was about a month ago when I got a hotel room in San Pedro Sula. It’s all about appreciating the little things in a place like this.”
Water trickled out of the pump’s mouth. He reached his hands out to meet the flow. A bar of soap sat on the concrete, and he palmed it. After working up a good lather, he rubbed his arms down. “It’s really great, what you’ve done for them. Bringing the soap and bamboo when you didn’t have to. I think I was wrong.”
He felt her eyes on him as he rinsed himself off. She asked in a quiet voice, “About what?”
Miles cupped his clean hands together, dipped his face forward and let the cold water flow against his sweaty brow. He’d been wrong about lots of things in his life, and he didn’t often like admitting it, but there was something about Kara that made him want to be real. At least with her.
“That the bamboo was the surprise when you’ve been the surprise all along.”
Water dripped from his face as he stopped to look at her. Through the twilight, he could see her cheeks flush. Her eyes caught his before she looked away. He walked around to the opposite side of the pump and offered, “Your turn, Hot Lips.”
Kara took his place on the concrete slab with the bar of soap. He couldn’t take his eyes off her while she used very little resources to clean up. Her face shone through the half-light while she avoided his stares. Why was he teasing himself?
The whole time she remained quiet, even when she picked up the bamboo sample and walked ahead of him to the gathering of villagers near Maria’s house. After he handed her a plate of food, she muttered thanks and avoided looking at him.
Time was slipping by. Tomorrow morning, he’d drive her to the airport and never see her again. He’d never smell her hair, see her smile or watch her passion bubble over when she was excited about finding a solution to a problem. And his chest wouldn’t tighten from the sight of it.
He lived a solitary life. He was surrounded by people most of the time, but he moved from one place to another doing service work, all the while being alone. It had been his singular focus—to use his knowledge to help people. It had fulfilled him for so long.
So why did he feel so strange thinking about her leaving? Why was he anxious and sad? Maybe they’d get another flat tire and she’d have to miss her flight. What would that get him, though—another few hours?
Miles realized he’d been staring at his plate of uneaten food. With numb hands, he took bite after bite until it was all gone and his stomach had been silenced. But nothing could silence his mind. Or his heart. He didn’t need this. Everything had been fine until she’d come along.
Once she was gone, things would go back to normal, which was what he wanted, he told himself. Everything to go back to normal.
Through the evening, villagers had disappeared to their own homes. Without hesitation, Kara grabbed her bamboo samples. Although Pedro, his little sister and his mother must have gone to bed, Andrés waited for her. His eyes were heavy; it was clear
it was past his bedtime, but when she handed the wood to him, he thanked her with a wide, toothy smile. He began to speak, and from the intonation, she knew he was asking a question. Outside of a few basic words, she didn’t understand.
Miles’s voice said from nearby, “He wants to know where your jewelry is—if you have any.”
On her first day she might have feared the intent behind the question, but now she knew it was asked in earnest. “I left it all at home so it would stay safe while I was traveling.”
When her response was translated to Andrés, he nodded and waved to them before saying goodnight. It wasn’t long before the remaining villagers dispersed and followed Andrés out.
Curled up in her sleeping bag on the cement floor of Maria’s home, Kara listened to the sounds of the wilderness around them. Insects buzzed with activity, along with nighttime predators, but a quiet calm had fallen with the sunset. It was very different from the buzz of traffic, or a neighbor’s television set crackling with activity. Feet away from her, Miles’s rhythmic breathing was comforting. It had been nice sharing space with another person, no matter how short-lived it had been.
Like every other morning she’d woken in Honduras, noises from the villagers and wildlife woke her. Birds grew active before the approaching dawn, eager to announce the new day. It was her last dawn in Honduras. Just thinking about it made her stomach hurt, and that surprised her. How anxious she’d been about leaving the safety of her home. The regularity of her daily life was something she could count on. And did.
Kara yawned and opened her lids, only to find Miles watching her while she slept. Caught looking, he rolled onto his back and unzipped his bag. His voice announced, “Didn’t want to wake you if I didn’t have to. Looked like you were sleeping deeply. Glad you’re up. Time to think about getting out of here.”
The sound of a woman’s cough wafted in through the open windows. Footsteps shuffled near, then Maria wandered inside, carrying an armful of wood. When she saw they were awake, her lips parted in a grin. “Buenos días.”
Kara and Miles returned the greeting. While Kara worked on rolling up her sleeping bag, Miles carried out a conversation with their host. Before she could take out a set of fresh clothes from her backpack, he said, “She won’t let us leave without some hot coffee and a bite to eat.”
Love Takes Root: A contemporary romance novella Page 12
