Summer Dreams

by Hebby Roman

  "I work at a resort," Esteban replied. He turned in his seat and cocked his head toward the radio, making a show of listening. To Natalia, it was obvious he wanted to end Hector's interrogation.

  But his answer only spurred Hector on. "I'm glad you brought up the topic of resorts, Esteban. That's why I'm here---to discuss a resort development I've been putting together."

  Esteban clenched his jaw and nodded.

  Shifting in his chair, Hector's gaze fell on her and Pura. Her grandmother poured herself a cup of coffee. Natalia placed the sugar bowl on the table.

  "Sit down, ladies," Hector said. "I want your full attention because I've got some exciting news about my development." He turned and faced Pura. "We need public access to the area, and my engineer has decided your land is perfect for a road."

  Hector must have seen the perplexed look on her grandmother's face because he tried to explain, "It will give you a new road to your farm, Mrs. Alberty. Plus, some extra cash for the right of way. What do you think of that?"

  Except for the radio announcer droning in the background, the silence greeting Hector's announcement was so thick, Natalia almost choked on it. Oblivious to their less-than-enthusiastic response, Hector sipped his coffee, his gaze trained expectantly on Pura as if he were waiting for the winning lottery number. Esteban's face was closed, his gray eyes hooded. The only clue to his reaction was a clenched jaw and the nervous tapping of one forefinger on the table.

  Pura acted as if she hadn't heard the offer. She kept her full attention on her dessert and carefully cut the peach pie into tiny bite-sized pieces.

  Natalia didn't know how she felt. Her first reaction was indignation, mixed with a good dose of rancor. How dare Hector say he wanted to see her when what he really wanted was Pura's land for one of his get-rich-quick schemes? She knew she shouldn't feel betrayed. After all, she didn't care what he did or who he wanted to see. But why did he have to bring up his development in front of Esteban? She didn't need to guess how Esteban would feel about it and the impact on his mountain.

  "Mrs. Alberty, did you hear what I said?" Hector prompted.

  Her grandmother lifted her head and speared him with one of her sharp teacher looks over the top of her spectacles. "I may be old, young man, but I haven't gone deaf yet."

  "Uh, I didn't mean to imply that you ..."

  "No offense taken, Mr. García."

  "Please call me Hector, Mrs. Alberty."

  "Why? You call me Mrs. Alberty."

  "But that's a form of courtesy, an acknowledgement of your age and---"

  "Natalia, this young man seems to have an obsession with age," Pura said and sniffed. "Wasn't he questioning Esteban about his age earlier?"

  Natalia stifled an urge to giggle. She bit on her lip and covered her mouth with one hand. Valiantly, she fought the hysterical bubble rising in her throat. She glanced at Esteban from the corner of her eye and saw he was experiencing the same difficulty, but he was clever enough to hide behind his napkin.

  Hector squirmed in his chair. His gaze snared hers, and his expression silently pleaded for Natalia to do or say something. She hated to rescue him, the low-down worm, but common courtesy demanded she explain.

  "Abuelita, I don't think Hector means anything impolite. He merely feels more comfortable addressing you formally. But he would like for you to call him by his given name."

  "Oh, I see. Well, that's just fine then," Pura replied. "You were saying, Hector?" Pura pronounced Hector's name in two long syllables, drawing it out.

  Wiping his brow with his napkin, Hector pushed away from the table and said, "I've optioned some land to the west of your farm for a resort area, Mrs. Alberty---for a winter ski resort. Unfortunately, there's no public road leading to the land, and after surveying the area, the engineer decided the straightest and shortest route would cut across your farm. I want to purchase some of your land for a right-of-way to build an access road to the resort."

  "You want to cut a road through my farm," Pura repeated. "What part of the farm?"

  "The southwest corner."

  "How many acres will this road take?"

  "Well, it's not usually measured in acres, Mrs. Alberty," he explained, leaning forward. "The road would be measured in feet or miles, not acres."

  "But part of the farm would be cut off, wouldn't it? I'd have to cross the road to get to my fields on the other side, wouldn't I?" Pura asked.

  "Yes, that's right, but you'd have a new road to your farm and cash in the bank."

  "How many lanes would this road be?"

  "Oh, two lanes with shoulders."

  "And there would be traffic on it?"

  "Yes, traffic to and from the resort."

  "I'll have to think about it, Hector." Pura tapped her forehead with one gnarled index finger. "The gray matter doesn't move as fast as it used to. Age, you understand."

  Hector's face fell, and then a kind of comprehension stole over his features. Natalia sucked in her breath. Did Hector know that Pura was baiting him?

  But Hector shrugged and pressed on. "I wish you would give it serious consideration, Mrs. Alberty. If for no other reason, then consider your safety. That rutted road to your farm is dangerous. What if you needed an ambulance to come quickly?"

  Natalia held her breath, waiting for her grandmother's response. She wasn't certain what Pura would say. No one had more pride than her abuela. Hector telling Pura that her road was unsafe was the least persuasive thing he could have said.

  "Aren't you overstepping your boundaries as a guest, Hector?" It was Esteban, not Pura, who spoke. "Where did you learn your manners? I was taught you don't come to someone's house, eat their food, and then disparage their home."

  Feeling like she was in the eye of a hurricane, Natalia watched as Hector's face turned red and then progressed to purple. A vein throbbed visibly in his forehead. He leaped to his feet and angled his body across the table, thrusting his face into Esteban's.

  "I learned my manners at the finest private schools in Dallas. Where did you learn yours?" He sneered. "You're a nothing, Montalvo, a penniless nothing. A dreamy-eyed ballplayer and Mrs. Alberty's hired hand." He hooked his thumb in Natalia's direction. "And I've watched you mooning around her. I know what you want. If she was still engaged to me, you wouldn't stand a chance."

  Esteban rose to his feet, too, but very slowly, as if testing each of his legs before putting weight on them. With his fists clenched at his sides, he leaned over the table and every muscle of his powerful build strained forward. He opened his mouth to speak but never got the words out.

  Pura put her hand on Esteban's arm and said, "I won't have such talk at my table, Hector. You've insulted us all. And I don't care what schools you attended." She also rose to her feet. "I think it's time you left."

  Hector stared at her, his eyes bulging from his head. Natalia wanted to jump up and down and cheer. Seldom had she seen her ex-fiancé bested. But she should have known better, over forty years of teaching rowdy kids had given her abuela more than enough practice at dealing with rude people.

  Wiping his mouth with his napkin, Hector glanced around and tried to catch Natalia's eye. But she purposely avoided his gaze and stared at the table, waiting. For several beats of her heart, he just stood there, looking undecided.

  Then he took a deep breath and offered, "I apologize for my behavior, Mrs. Alberty. I hope you won't hold it against me."

  "Buenas noches," Pura replied, ignoring his apology.

  He grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it. This time he gazed at Natalia until she felt that she had to raise her head, and he asked, "Would you see me out?"

  "Of course," she said.

  Natalia slanted a look at Esteban from beneath her eyelashes and saw his hands clench on the tabletop and the muscle in his jaw jump. She knew he wouldn't be pleased, but someone had to see Hector out. The whole episode was embarrassing enough without making it worse.

  "Thank you again for the fine dinner," Hector said to Pura
.

  "De nada," Pura replied but didn't look up.

  Natalia wondered if her grandmother realized how much Hector hated to speak Spanish. Knowing Pura and her almost extra sensory reading of people, she'd probably figured it out and had decided to speak Spanish just to spite him.

  Hector opened the front door wide, and Natalia took the hint and went through the door first. Outside on the front porch, relief rolled over her, and she felt as if she'd escaped from a burning building.

  She crossed her arms on her chest and asked, "Do you know the way back?"

  "Natalia, I've got to see you again. But not like this. I need to see you alone."

  "Hector, I don't think we should ..."

  "It's not like that, not what you think," he said. "I've got to talk to you about the farm and the road."

  "Pura said she would think about it, Hector. Why can't you give her time?"

  "Because I've offended her, and she won't consider my offer seriously."

  "That's not true. She may have ordered you from the house, but I know my grandmother. She will consider it."

  Hector pulled his hand through his hair, mussing its perfectly-combed waves. "You've got to convince her, Natalia. It's for her sake and yours. That road is dangerous."

  "For our sakes?" She asked. "Hector, I'm not stupid, so don't patronize me. I know how much this development means to you."

  "Just give me the benefit of the doubt, okay? I'll take you to a nice place for dinner and we can talk." He paused and smiled at her, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Do you have the ring I gave you? Why don't you wear it?" The tiniest note of hurt crept into his voice. "You could wear it on your right hand if you wanted to."

  She studied his face for a moment. He'd lost the fake smile and seemed to be looking at her with genuine interest. Did he really mean what he'd just said? With Hector, you never knew, he was great at play-acting.

  And what did she care if he was upset or not? She was over him. Esteban had made her realize what loving someone, really loving them, felt like. Even if she hadn't told Esteban how she felt.

  As for Hector's ring---she didn't care about it, one way or the other. And she had no intention of ever wearing it again.

  "Yes, I have the ring. I was going to return it to you when I got back to Dallas. But since you're here." She let out a puff of breath. "Wait here. I'll get it."

  He reached out and placed his hand on her arm. "Not now, please."

  His eyes gleamed in the porch light, and she recognized that look because she'd seen it on his face so many times before---it was the look of undisguised greed. So Hector had wanted her to return the ring all along.

  She pulled her shoulders back and shrugged off his hand, holding herself carefully erect. She shouldn't care but she did. Not about the ring or their broken engagement. But that he valued her and their long relationship so little. She wanted to rush inside and grab the ring and fling it in his face. But they'd all had enough ugly scenes for one evening.

  "I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow night. You can bring the ring then," Hector offered. "We'll go someplace nice and talk."

  She wanted to tell Hector where he could go right now, forget tomorrow night. And that was straight to hell. But before she could get the words out of her mouth, the front door swung open, and Esteban stood in the doorway, his face a scowl and his hands fisted.

  Hector took the cue and started down the front steps, calling back, "Tomorrow at eight." He opened the door to his rented Beamer and got in. Spewing dirt and loose gravel, he roared off.

  Natalia's shoulders slumped, and she felt like a rag doll that had lost its stuffing. She ignored Esteban's possessive stance and sank with a sigh into the newly-repaired porch swing. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the slatted wood. Pura's great brain child of a supper with Esteban and Hector together had proven even worse than she'd dreaded.

  And now this thing over the ring. She hadn't been prepared for that.

  She sensed Esteban looming over her and her nose picked up the spicy cologne that he favored. But she wasn't ready to face him yet, and she wished she could keep her eyes closed indefinitely. Right now, she felt like a prize-fighter who'd gone the full ten rounds.

  Slowly and reluctantly, she opened her eyes and found herself staring at his crisp white shirt. He had his feet spread wide and looked as if he was bracing himself for a fight.

  "What happens tomorrow night at eight?" He asked.

  She opened her eyes and leaned forward. "I see Hector and give back his ring. I tried to give it to him tonight, but he said he didn't want to make another scene."

  "So you've agreed to a date with him, just to give back his ring," he said.

  Like a hibernating bear awakening from a long winter's nap, Esteban's prodding irritated her. She'd had more than enough confrontations for one night. And she didn't want to argue with him over Hector. Her ex-fiancé was definitely not worth it.

  "I hadn't planned on going out with him, but he kept pressing. And then you came out and he sort of ran off before I could refuse."

  "Really?"

  "But I want to give back his ring."

  "So you're not going on a date with him?"

  What did she have to do---spell it out? Who did Esteban think he was her keeper? They didn't have any hold on each other. She'd assumed he wasn't seeing other people, since that night in Santa Fe, because he'd spent all his free time with her. But she hadn't demanded he not see other women.

  And she hadn't expected Hector would come back for his ring, desperate to cut his losses.

  And what of Esteban? He hadn't given her anything to bind them together. Why was he so possessive. If she wanted to go out with her ex-fiancé, even if he was a greedy worm, then por Dios, she would do just that. Let Esteban put up or shut up. Let him tell her how he felt about her. Let him take her in his arms and kiss her silly.

  Her wounded pride needed reassurance.

  "What do you care if I go out with him?" She asked. "You and I don't have an understanding. I haven't told you that you can't go out with other women."

  He shook his head. "Natalia, you can't mean that. You know I haven't so much as looked at another woman since---"

  "Who's stopping you," she taunted. "Certainly not me." Rising from the swing, she tried to push past him. "I'm tired, Esteban. It's been a long night."

  But he blocked her way. He didn't lay a hand on her. Instead, he stood solidly in her path, waiting. She could hear his labored breathing, glimpsed the pain etched on his shadowed features. She'd hurt him, and she hadn't meant to do that. Or had she?

  Had she lashed out at Esteban, unconsciously hoping to hurt him as Hector had hurt her? If so, she was no better than her ex-fiancé. Maybe even worse, at least Hector had his greed to blame. Guilt rode her like a heavy-handed jockey. Shame swamped her, but she couldn't back down now.

  "Not a date tomorrow, just give him back his ring, Natalia." Esteban pleaded.

  She nodded. "Not a date, I'll just give him his ring."

  "Thank you, Natalia." He kissed the top of her head. "You know you're the only one for me. Since we were kids, all I've wanted was you."

  She lifted her face to him. "Really?"

  ***

  Natalia almost fell face forward into the soapy water, helping Pura with the breakfast dishes. She was so tired it took an effort of will to keep her eyes open. She hadn't been able to sleep last night after Esteban left.

  Her sleepy eyes drifted shut. She forced them open, but they grew moist. With the back of her hand, she dashed away the tears. Yawning behind her fist, she said, "I think I'll take a nap."

  "Don't you have class this morning?" Pura asked.

  "I'm cutting it."

  "That's not like you, mi Nieta. Don't let this García boy bother you. He's not worth it."

  "That's not the problem." Not wanting to explain how she'd spent the night, tossing and turning and thinking about Esteban and what he'd said. "What about Hector's offer? Have you
thought about it?"

  "You mean the road."

  "Sí. It's not such a bad idea. The farm needs a new road. Why not let someone else pay for it?"

  "Pah! Another road to bring more tourists in? Gracias, no."

  "But what if you needed an ambulance? The farm's road is---"

  "I can take care of myself, Natalia," Pura stopped her. "I'm not so old that I need an ambulance or so young that I'm afraid of dying."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Natalia asked, crossing her soapy arms.

  "Whatever you want it to mean. It's my life, not yours."

  "Is that why you spurn José's efforts? Why you won't let him move you to town?" Natalia asked.

  "My eldest son wants to make a ward of me. My grandmother would have said that was a good thing and that I should be grateful for his concern. I should let him take care of me. But I don't want that. I want to take care of myself."

  "Okay, I understand you want to stay on the farm and live you own life, but I think---"

  "Don't think. It doesn't become you. It carves big wrinkles in your forehead. Don't think so much," she repeated. "Sometimes, it's better to just feel, just to be."

  Natalia shook her head. "I was wrong. I don't understand what you want."

  "A man," she replied. "If I had it to do over again, I would have remarried. Not that I didn't love your grandfather." She shrugged. "I'm starting to repeat myself, and I've told you this before. Excuse my momentary lapse of senility, por favor."

  "Not that living with a man, any man, is a bed of roses," her abuela admitted. "Your grandfather, the Blessed Virgin keep him, was a stubborn, obstinate man, given to great passions. He wasn't easy to live with." Rolling her eyes, she said, "I could tell you stories." She paused and then continued, "But despite all that, I would rather care for an aging husband and have him care for me, than put the burden on my children."

  "But you're not a burden, Abuelita. Why do you think that?"

  "Because that's your sentiment speaking, Natalia, not your reason. Think about it," she admonished, adding, "and don't plague me about a road. The last thing I want is a road cutting through my farm."