Firefly Summer Page 4

  “Oh, Juana, they are just like the ones you made for Mercedes’ birthday,” said Teresa examining them. “Remember how surprised Mercedes was?”

  “Will you help us make cornucopias to put them in, just like the ones we made for Mercedes? I would like one for every boy and girl who comes to the feast tonight.”

  Juana looked at the family and smiled. She got out a piece of blue ribbon from her pocket and gave it to Teresa. “It’s from Sixta’s sewing box. Her mother sent it to you to tie the cornucopias with. She wants Sixta to take part in the feast tonight, even if she’s away.”

  “But where did you make all this candy, Juana?”

  “At Sixta’s home, so you would not find out.”

  “We will make the cornucopias for you,” said her mother, glad to see Teresa’s mood change for the best. “You and Ramón can fill them up with candy after you finish with the carols. There is not much time left.”

  When she joined Ramón, Antonio had already learned his part. She told them all about her father and the gift he had sent. She explained about Juana’s candy and the cornucopias her mother was making for them. Then they went over their own carols until they, too, were sure of them.

  There was still the lemonade to be made and the long table outside the kitchen door to be fixed. Everything else was done. The platters of cornbread, meat patties, crackers and cheese filled the wooden shelves of the kitchen.

  When the sun went down, the family went to the shed. Ramón had added two extra chairs and placed a bouquet of flowers on each. Teresa took the small wreath from the leaves and added it to the bouquet on Ramón’s chair.

  They did not have to wait long before the workers began to arrive. They went throughout the shed, admiring the altar and commenting on the children’s taste. There seemed to be the same air of festivity around as on the opening of the feast. The workers were curious as to whether the children could turn out a good ending for the feast. More and more workers came, accompanied by some of their friends, until the shed was filled. Again a group had to sit on the grass.

  Teresa, Antonio and Ramón took their seats and waited for everyone to get settled. Teresa held the crystal beads in her hands, because she was going to conduct the rosary. The light of the single lantern fell on the Cross and made the rest of the altar look like a forest at twilight.

  Teresa heard the children behind her say, “When are they going to start?” Trembling a little, she began to chant her opening. She pulled at Ramón’s sleeves—for her voice seemed suddenly to be leaving her. She passed him the rosary, and his voice soon rose high and clear. When he had the group going through each decade and Teresa had regained her confidence, he passed her the beads again. She followed at ease now, on and on until she reached the end. Like Grandmother had done on the first night of the feast, Teresa led them in the singing of the Adórate and again the group burst into singing the many choruses they liked so well. When they finished and Teresa had reached the part where the carols came, Ramón nodded to Antonio. He took his small bouquet and walked to the altar, saying more than singing,

  Tulips and lilies I present

  And good wishes for all

  I beg of her.

  He placed his bouquet on the altar and returned to his seat. He had done his part well.

  Teresa followed. She sang loud and clear,

  Water for the valley

  And sun for our fields

  I ask from you, Oh Queen!

  That the earth may also partake of your gifts,

  And the babbling brook

  That we love so well

  May join us in singing

  Your praises as well.

  She laid down her flowers and sat down.

  It was now Ramón’s turn. Any other boy his size and age would have felt embarrassed to go through with it, but not Ramón. He walked boldly to the altar singing,

  Violets and hyacinths

  At your foot I lay

  Bringing to a close

  This floral feast of May.

  Then he climbed up the ladder and slipped the tiny wreath over the Cross.

  “¡Viva la Cruz!—Long live the Cross!” he shouted.

  “¡Viva! ¡Viva!” the workers cried, overjoyed at what they had seen. The children’s ending of the feast was an unusual one, they all had to agree.

  Just then from somewhere came the sound of music, and a voice broke into a song. Teresa recognized the voice.

  “It’s Papá!” she cried, standing on her chair to place him among the crowd.

  She saw him sitting under the trees, surrounded by Nicanor and two other musicians. Teresa ran out of the shed to join him.

  “You did come back,” she said. “You saw the end of the feast after all.”

  “I was busy all day looking for something special for tonight, and at last I found these three musicians.”

  “That was a fine closing you children had. I am proud of you.”

  There never was a celebration like the one at the finca that night. The workers ate and sang, and when the last of the food was gone, Don Rodrigo said the musicians would play for anyone who cared to dance. The bare ground soon filled with couples twirling and laughing, dancing under the stars and a moon that hung so low it looked unreal.

  The children joined hands in a circle and ran about the place encircling people and making them pay a penalty by singing a song before they freed them. Once they even caught Grandmother. But their greatest fun came when Teresa brought out the cornucopias filled with candy and gave each of them one to take home.

  When the workers began to get ready to leave, Teresa joined her parents at the head of the hill to say goodbye. She watched them go down, still humming some of the tunes they had heard the musicians play. She could hear the children’s voices, too, as they called one another to hurry up. Once she heard the word capia. Were the children discussing next summer’s feast? If they were, Teresa knew everyone was really hoping for a capia, and why shouldn’t they? Maybe one of them would be selected, now that her mother had made it possible for children to join the feast.

  On the way back, she stood by the shed for one more look at the altar. A ray of moonlight shone upon the steps, adding luster to the flowers buried in the moss. She thought of her promise to Filimón.

  “I wish,” she said softly, “that Filimón will always be the best driver of the land.”

  CHAPTER 4

  POMAROSAS

  Juana left the next day. Ramón and Teresa walked to the end of the country road with her and waited until the coach arrived. Don Rodrigo had reserved a seat for her early in the week, and since then she had been sure she would have to sit in the rear.

  “There won’t be another Filimón with whom to talk either,” she told Teresa as she sat on a rock to wait.

  Finally the coach arrived. Poor Juana, her fears were confirmed. Not only did she have to sit in the rear, but she had to force the woman who sat next to her to move the packages she had scattered on the seat. The woman seemed to resent her coming into the coach to disturb her comfort.

  “Goodbye, Juana,” said Ramón and Teresa as the coach departed. They stood waving until the coach was out of sight, then went back home to begin clearing out the shed.

  Teresa wrapped up the mahogany cross and took it to the house while Ramón tore down the altar and the steps and took the wood to the woodshed.

  “Don’t tear down the shed, Ramón. We can use it all summer long,” said Teresa when she came back. “You can do your carving here and it will also make a good playhouse for Antonio and the children who always play with him.”

  They were interrupted by Don Rodrigo, who asked Ramón for his horse.

  “Finish up, Teresa, I forgot your father has to go to the finca at once. Pile up the branches for me, and I’ll throw them away when I return.”

  Teresa did not finish, but ran instead to her father and asked him to take her along with him to the finca.

  “Two on a horse?” he asked, laughing.
<
br />   “Yes, two on a horse,” she answered.

  “Two on a horse it shall be,” he assured her.

  This was the way Teresa had begun to ask for rides when she was a little girl. Her father could not resist trying the old routine.

  When the horse was ready, Ramón helped Teresa to her place and returned to the shed.

  There were several shortcuts to the finca, but Don Rodrigo took the one that he knew was Teresa’s favorite, the one that led through a shallow stream to a narrow path shaded by trees. Teresa took a long breath. This was compensation enough after being away so long from home. This was a prelude to what the rest of her days at home would be. Now the finca was ahead, and she was riding once more with her father along her special road.

  They reached the place where the old crooked tree stood. The horse brushed past it, and the heavy dew on its branches soaked their heads.

  “That dew seemed more like a shower,” said her father.

  Teresa did not mind it. The horse crossed the stream and came out onto the main path.

  “Ho! Don Rodrigo,” called a group of boys from across the way.

  “Ho!” he answered.

  “Who are they?” asked Teresa.

  “New tenants on the finca. Their fathers came to do some extra work this year and stayed over. Those children spend their time working for some of the farmers around here. When they are not working, they are walking back and forth from Cidra to Cayey.”

  When Don Rodrigo and Teresa came within view of the finca, Teresa asked her father to let her down so she could walk the rest of the way.

  “Meet me at the overseer’s home before noon,” he said, leaving her standing in the center of the road.

  How big the fields seemed after being away from them for a whole year. She stopped to watch the peasants in the fields. They all wore straw hats to protect them from the sun. Their loose shirtwaists fluttered in the wind as they worked among the furrows. She remembered the fruit farm she had seen on her way from the city, and the young boy who looked so much like Ramón. Here, too, some of the farm workers were gathering fruit with their baskets strapped to their backs.

  Downhill was the overseer’s house. If her friend Pilar was home, she would invite her to walk around the finca. She ran downhill towards the rear of the house.

  The first thing one saw when approaching the house from that angle was the large cistern, where Pilar kept the rainwater for drinking purposes. She had planted verbena and albahaca plants around the base to hold the moisture and keep the water cool. Felipe had built a wood rack around it, where the ladders were hung.

  “Pilar! Pilar!” she called, but no one answered.

  She pushed the door open and looked in. The house was clean and neat. Pilar was a good housekeeper. There was a dishpan full of clean dishes on the table and a large basket full of starched clothes on the floor. Teresa guessed that Pilar was washing by the river. If she walked fast enough and met her before she started back home, they could walk to see the waterfall. Teresa closed the door and started downhill towards the river.

  It was steep going down, and Teresa had to hold onto the branches of the bushes for balance. Once down the narrow path, she hurried along until she came to where a set of flat stones extended across the river. It was here where the peasants beat their clothes clean. The place was deserted. There were two empty baskets near some clothes drying in the sun. Could it have been Pilar? And if so, where could she have gone? If it had been Pilar, she was probably in the natural pool bathing. Teresa had been with her there before.

  Teresa left the river path and turned towards the cluster of bushes that closed the entrance to the pool. She heard the waterfall long before she parted the bushes. The place was as deserted as the river. She stood watching the water drop into the hollow stone that formed the pool and go over its brim. She followed its course under the thicket on its way to the many rivulets throughout the land. She was sure that somewhere the waterfall met the river, although she did not know where.

  “I have missed Pilar,” she said to herself, “but I will not miss a dip in this pool.” The water was colder than she expected and she swam below the surface to increase her circulation. A puff of wind sent a number of fruit plopping into the water. They were small, pink pomarosas fruit. She tried to fill her hands with them, but the light fruit bobbed and floated always ahead of her and out of reach. Another gust of wind brought down a larger number. She jumped from the water and dressed quickly.

  The pomarosas were all over the ground as well as on the surface of the water. She took a handful and sat on the grass to eat them, throwing the brown pits over the pool. The force of the waterfall made the fruit float faster and faster, and soon the pomarosas went bobbing over the brim and out under the thicket where rivulets ran. They seemed like small apricots to her, except that they were hollow inside with a small brown pit rolling around inside.

  “I wish I had a basket to take some of them home,” she said, beginning to gather as many pomarosas as she could carry in both hands.

  Teresa left the pool as the sound of her father’s voice reached her. It was coming from far away, yet she heard it distinctively.

  “Teresaaaaa! Teresaaaaa!” over and over he called. She began to run towards the river path, wondering if it could be noon time. She remembered she had promised to meet him at Pilar’s home.

  “Teresaaaaa, Teresaaaaa, Teresaaaaa!” she heard again, only this time there seemed to be more than one person calling her. She ran faster and faster, holding the pomarosas close in her hands. Suddenly, the bushes across the river began to shake furiously, and she heard the sound of crushing dead branches underfoot. A stray goat or a dog, she thought. What if it was Leal, Ramón’s dog? She stopped. Whatever it was had to come out into the open, for that was the end of the row of bushes. When the branches parted, she did not see Leal, nor a goat, but the face of a strange man. She dropped the pomarosas and ran up the path. When she reached the part where the flat stones were, she saw Felipe running towards her.

  “Where were you?” he asked. “Your father and I have been looking for you everywhere. One of the prisoners working on the road has escaped, and they say he’s headed for this finca.”

  “I have been looking for Pilar,” said Teresa.

  She went to town early this morning,” said Felipe. “That’s why we’ve been worrying about you.”

  As he finished talking, four civil guards came running towards them.

  “Where did he go? Have you seen him?” they asked.

  “I don’t know,” answered Felipe. “I haven’t seen anyone.”

  “But I did,” said Teresa. “There is someone hiding in those bushes across the river.”

  The guards leaped into the water, skipping over the flat stones until they reached the opposite side. They disappeared behind the shrubbery and had not been gone very long when a sharp whistle blew and shouts of “Aquí, aquí” were heard.

  Felipe and Teresa knew the guards had completed their mission.

  “Let’s go home, Teresa,” said Felipe, and the two hurried along, eager to reach the house before the guard reappeared.

  When they arrived, they saw Don Rodrigo riding downhill.

  “Where did you find her?” he asked, jumping off his horse.

  “Running by the river path,” said Felipe. “She had just seen the prisoner across the river.”

  “Seen the fugitive?” he asked, mopping his brow nervously.

  It was then that he noticed her wet braids and knew she had been bathing in the pool.

  Don Rodrigo seldom forbade Teresa anything, but this he now knew. She should never bathe alone in that pool again. She nodded when he told her.

  “Of all the fincas about the place, why did he have to choose ours?” she said.

  “Choose is the wrong word to use,” said her father. “It was his safety he was thinking of, just as much as I am thinking of yours. Now let us go home.”

  They rode back without a word between the
m, although both were thinking about the same thing.

  As they entered the family path, the sound of the conch shell reached them.

  “Lunch,” said her father. “I can eat for two after all the riding I have done.”

  But Teresa knew that the best cooking at home could not lure her to eat.

  CHAPTER 5

  MERCEDES

  Antonio had come to the house earlier than usual to ask Teresa about her adventure the day before. So far, he had not been able to see her. Teresa was in the neck, helping the family sew the edges of a tablecloth, a present for her aunt in San Juan which she would take her when school time came again. Antonio had received the mail before coming to the door. With two letters and a catalog, he walked triumphantly, purposefully into the neck, confident of his pretext.

  “The mail,” he said, handing Doña Anita the two letters and putting the catalog on Don Rodrigo’s table.

  One of the letters was addressed to Doña Anita, and she turned it over quickly to see whom it was from. There was no return address.

  “Is it from Aunt Elvira?” Teresa asked, noticing the postmark from San Juan on the envelope.

  “I wish it was,” said her mother, “but this is not her handwriting.”

  She opened the envelope, pulled out the letter and glanced at the signature before she began to read its contents.

  “Why, it is from Lucio.” She read on and then stopped. “I better read this aloud. The news concerns us all. Listen:

  Dear friend:

  The following goes to you hoping it will find the family well, and to ask a favor. Will it be possible for Mercedes to stay at the finca, while I go around the island on important business?

  In the event that I don’t hear from you to the contrary, we will be there Saturday of this week.

  Your friend,

  Lucio

  “Mercedes is coming here at last,” Teresa said enthusiastically.

  “Say it will be all right, Mamá. She can share my room.”