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.
"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.
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