innocence. "Pura wanted me to hoe the garden. She said it's full of weeds. When I got here, I realized Apolinaria hadn't been milked, so I decided to help."
He was blushing again. Was he lying or telling the truth? Had Pura really told him to come without mentioning it? And if she had, what was her abuela up to? Trying to throw them together? But she wouldn't fall into that trap, not even for her grandmother.
" Gracias for milking Apolinaria." She made a face at the goat, still tied to the stall. "It's not a pleasant task, all things considered." She crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Just got the wind knocked out of me," he replied. "I'm fine."
"Then you'll be working in the garden?"
" Sí , but I wondered if ..."
Here it was. She had expected it. And her own abuela had set her up.
" Sí, " she prompted.
"I went to the grocery store this morning and bought a lot of food." He shrugged. I don't know what came over me. I must have gone to the store hungry. Anyway, I brought my lunch with me, and there's more than enough for two." He paused. "Want to have lunch with me? We could picnic by the waterfall."
Every fiber of her being strained to say no. She had known what he would ask. Though, technically it wasn't a date, given Pura's connivance, his invitation came to the same thing. Or was she reading too much into her grandmother's actions? She couldn't be certain.
Esteban's invitation hung in the air. What should she do? Was this her chance to be adventuresome? Could she forgive herself if she crept into the house and played it safe?
She didn't know who she surprised more, herself or Esteban, when she said, "I'd love to go on a picnic."
Chapter Four
Esteban spread the blanket while Natalia emptied the picnic basket. The waterfall splashed in the background, misting the warm summer air. The wind moved through the trees, bringing their pine-laden scent with them. Underfoot, the smell of crushed grass filled the air, a sweet counterpoint to the trees' astringent fragrance.
Natalia gazed at the horizon. The mountain peaks stretched away, as far as the eye could see, humped one after another, like whimsical, multi-hued, paper maché creations. Aspens shuddered on the hillsides, their leaves tossing in the wind, green and then gold and then green again. Purple columbine, golden day lilies, and crimson field poppies sprinkled the mountains, their gaudy splashes of color dotting the meadows.
She sighed, filling her lungs with the crystal-pure air. Her muscles and nerves relaxed, untangling like threads of a skein. Her mind floated free, soaring with the lazy circles of a hawk flying overhead. Peace filled her, an almost drowsy contentment, a feeling of supreme well-being. This was hers and Esteban's special place, and there was no other place quite like it.
"Daydreaming?" Esteban's deep voice brought her back.
" Sí , daydreaming," she said. "This is the perfect place for it."
He lowered himself to the blanket and crossed his legs, Indian-fashion. Shading his eyes with the palm of his hand, he followed her gaze to the horizon. " Sí , it is perfect for all kinds of dreams."
A shiver tingled through her, disquieting but strangely pleasurable at the same time. It was as if he was touching her. She felt so close to him just now, this split-second in time, as if they were one person. They'd shared this view a hundred times before, from childhood through awkward puberty and into adulthood. And she knew with a certainty that went beyond knowing, that he understood exactly how it affected her.
Suddenly uncomfortable with their unspoken affinity, she turned her gaze away, allowing it to rest on the playful tumble and splash of the waterfall. Light caught the multi-faceted diamonds of water, sparking showers of dazzling brilliance, ending in a gauzy rainbow at the foot of the cascade.
"Are you hungry?" He asked. "I'm starving."
Like the setting sun seeking the western horizon, her gaze
He was blushing again. Was he lying or telling the truth? Had Pura really told him to come without mentioning it? And if she had, what was her abuela up to? Trying to throw them together? But she wouldn't fall into that trap, not even for her grandmother.
" Gracias for milking Apolinaria." She made a face at the goat, still tied to the stall. "It's not a pleasant task, all things considered." She crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Just got the wind knocked out of me," he replied. "I'm fine."
"Then you'll be working in the garden?"
" Sí , but I wondered if ..."
Here it was. She had expected it. And her own abuela had set her up.
" Sí, " she prompted.
"I went to the grocery store this morning and bought a lot of food." He shrugged. I don't know what came over me. I must have gone to the store hungry. Anyway, I brought my lunch with me, and there's more than enough for two." He paused. "Want to have lunch with me? We could picnic by the waterfall."
Every fiber of her being strained to say no. She had known what he would ask. Though, technically it wasn't a date, given Pura's connivance, his invitation came to the same thing. Or was she reading too much into her grandmother's actions? She couldn't be certain.
Esteban's invitation hung in the air. What should she do? Was this her chance to be adventuresome? Could she forgive herself if she crept into the house and played it safe?
She didn't know who she surprised more, herself or Esteban, when she said, "I'd love to go on a picnic."
Chapter Four
Esteban spread the blanket while Natalia emptied the picnic basket. The waterfall splashed in the background, misting the warm summer air. The wind moved through the trees, bringing their pine-laden scent with them. Underfoot, the smell of crushed grass filled the air, a sweet counterpoint to the trees' astringent fragrance.
Natalia gazed at the horizon. The mountain peaks stretched away, as far as the eye could see, humped one after another, like whimsical, multi-hued, paper maché creations. Aspens shuddered on the hillsides, their leaves tossing in the wind, green and then gold and then green again. Purple columbine, golden day lilies, and crimson field poppies sprinkled the mountains, their gaudy splashes of color dotting the meadows.
She sighed, filling her lungs with the crystal-pure air. Her muscles and nerves relaxed, untangling like threads of a skein. Her mind floated free, soaring with the lazy circles of a hawk flying overhead. Peace filled her, an almost drowsy contentment, a feeling of supreme well-being. This was hers and Esteban's special place, and there was no other place quite like it.
"Daydreaming?" Esteban's deep voice brought her back.
" Sí , daydreaming," she said. "This is the perfect place for it."
He lowered himself to the blanket and crossed his legs, Indian-fashion. Shading his eyes with the palm of his hand, he followed her gaze to the horizon. " Sí , it is perfect for all kinds of dreams."
A shiver tingled through her, disquieting but strangely pleasurable at the same time. It was as if he was touching her. She felt so close to him just now, this split-second in time, as if they were one person. They'd shared this view a hundred times before, from childhood through awkward puberty and into adulthood. And she knew with a certainty that went beyond knowing, that he understood exactly how it affected her.
Suddenly uncomfortable with their unspoken affinity, she turned her gaze away, allowing it to rest on the playful tumble and splash of the waterfall. Light caught the multi-faceted diamonds of water, sparking showers of dazzling brilliance, ending in a gauzy rainbow at the foot of the cascade.
"Are you hungry?" He asked. "I'm starving."
Like the setting sun seeking the western horizon, her gaze
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