Firefly Summer Page 8

  “Martín!” he called.

  “Buenos, buenos,” said Martín, coming out to greet him. “I see you brought company today.”

  Martín was the town blacksmith, loved by all the children of Cayey. His smithy shop was large and busy, yet never too busy to cater to the children who daily came to pick up the flat square slabs used in hopscotch games, but more often to see horses shod or watch the flaming piece of iron turn into shape under Martín’s hard beating. During the course of the day, as Martín stood at the door of his shop, he saw many a pair of legs fly after one of the many rusty hoops he had given away.

  Martín helped Ramón lead the horses to the stable. Teresa and Mercedes went into the smithy. The walls were lined with old harnesses and bridles; old broken coach wheels were piled in corners. There was a large anvil in the center of the room, and on one side, taking up a large portion of the wall, was the firebed.

  “Aren’t any horses coming to get shoes?” asked Antonio. “I would like to see it done.”

  “You do, eh?” said Martín. “Well, we will have to arrange for that.”

  Ramón started them on their way again, but not before Antonio had filled his pockets with flat slabs. They went up Comercio Street. The stores weren’t open yet, so they walked to the public plaza.

  “This is the town where father came to the meeting when he left me at the finca,” said Mercedes. “I wonder where he stayed?”

  “At the Hotel Comercio,” said Ramón. “We are coming to it now. All meetings are always held there.”

  When they passed the hotel, the doors were closed. Evidently the guests were still in bed. Even the public square was deserted, except for one or two men sitting on benches.

  “I am going to the church,” said Antonio, running across the street. They followed him. Aside from a couple of old women saying their beads, the church, too, was deserted.

  The sexton came out and began to refill the candle stands at each side of the railing. They watched him scrape out the old wax. He looked sleepy himself, yet managed to keep an eye on them. He had never seen children in church that early.

  “How can he put the candles in the right place when his head is always turned watching us?” asked Mercedes.

  The children sat down near the main altar. When the sexton finished placing the last candle, he opened the side door wide. Antonio, who stood near the door, caught sight of a large sign hanging from a door across the street. He spelled out the letters. “DU-L-C-E-S”…“Candies!” he shouted.

  “Hush,” said Teresa.

  But Antonio was already out of the church. They followed him to the candy shop. The door was closed and Ramón tried the knob. A bell sounded as the door opened and the children filed into the small shop. The place smelled of molasses, anise and peppermint. On the counter that stretched from side to side were platters filled with coconut, anise and raspberry drops. On a wooden rack were lollipops shaped and colored like farmyard animals.

  “What are you doing here so early?” asked a man coming out of the kitchen.

  “We are from the finca,” said Antonio. “We came early to avoid the sun.”

  “A very good reason,” remarked the man, now laughing. “What can I sell you?”

  “I want three coconut drops and two peppermint sticks,” said Teresa.

  “I want anise drops,” said Mercedes.

  “Give me four raspberry ones,” said Ramón.

  Antonio moved from one side of the counter to the other, unable to decide what to have.

  “Make up your mind, Antonio. You can’t buy the entire shop. What would you have?” asked Ramón.

  “Lollipops—all kinds,” he said.

  Teresa and Ramón let him pick the ones he wanted from the rack and paid the man.

  “Wait a second, children,” said the owner, going back to the kitchen. “I have just finished my birds,” he said, putting on the counter a platter filled with the most colorful tiny birds imaginable.

  “Oh!” cried the children, eager now to exchange their purchases for the colorful birds.

  “I want that green parrot,” said Antonio.

  “And, I, that pigeon,” said Mercedes.

  The candymaker stood each bird on the counter as the children selected their favorites.

  “Why don’t you call for yours, too,” he asked Ramón and Teresa. “They are my gifts to you.”

  They each took a robin and, thanking the man, left the shop.

  When they came back to Comercio Street, the shops were open and the streets were full of people and stray dogs. The street vendors were everywhere calling their wares. “¡Carbón! ¡Carbón!” called the charcoal vendor. “Tomatoes—red tomatoes,” called the vegetable men. “Buy my peppers and lettuce, señora,” he called. He went from door to door peddling his wares.

  The door of the small fruit store on the corner was filled with bunches of bananas hanging from its rafters. Inside, oranges, limes and grapefruits stood alongside mangoes and rich, red bananas. Piled on a large box were plantains, breadfruits, and a variety of tropical roots. Large platters of achiote seeds filled the counter and bags of all kinds of beans rested on the floor.

  Soon they reached the department store. It was the biggest store in town and carried better merchandise than any of the others. Antonio and Ramón stood on the sidewalk while the girls did their shopping.

  Teresa handed the clerk the list her mother had given her, and the clerk began to look for the things included on it.

  “Anything else?” he asked when he had wrapped up buttons, pins, threads, tape and netting.

  “Yes,” said Teresa, “we want some material for dresses.”

  “Who are the dresses for?” asked the clerk.

  “For us, of course,” she answered. The clerk looked at the rolls of cloth on the shelves, selected four and put them on the counter. The girls looked them over.

  “I like this one,” said Mercedes, selecting a yellow organdy with embroidered rosebuds.

  “I have always wanted to have a blue linen dress,” said Teresa, deciding on a roll of cloth next to her. “We want two yards of each if it is forty-five inches wide or two-and-a-quarter, if it isn’t. That’s what Grandmother said.”

  The clerk nodded and began to measure the material.

  “Please make out two separate packages.” said Mercedes. “I would like to carry my own.”

  “Here you are,” said the clerk. “Now that will be…”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” said Teresa, handing him an envelope her father had given her.

  “So you are Don Rodrigo’s daughter,” he said, looking for his ledger book, where he carefully entered the cost of the purchases.

  When they came out Ramón and Antonio were glad to see them. They had waited a long time for them.

  “Now for the shoemaker,” said Ramón. They walked to the other side of town where the shoemaker’s place was and picked the two pairs of heavy boots he had mended for Don Rodrigo. When they came back to the smithy, Martín was busy shoeing a horse.

  “A horse!” cried Antonio, who refused to help Ramón bring the horses from the stable. He stood alongside Martín, watching as the shoemaker cleaned the horse’s hoof, drew out the nails and lifted the old shoe. Not until he had seen how the new one was set did he move from the place. When they were ready to go, he pulled out one of his precious lollipops and gave it to Martín.

  “Well, a rooster!” said Martín, “I will have to wait to eat it later, for I have much work to do right now.”

  Ramón paid Martín for the stable place and turned his horse towards the bridge and out on the road again.

  Don Rodrigo, who had been on the lookout for them, saw them turn from the road and take the country road to the house.

  “The children are back,” he called, quite relieved now, for he had not liked the idea of letting them go alone on such a trip. Up the path the two horses came slowly, and soon stopped behind the house where the family had gathered to welcome the children back
.

  “How did the shopping go?” asked Grandmother, helping take the packages from the saddlebags. Don Rodrigo helped the children down, and Ramón and Antonio took the horses away.

  “These are fine goods,” said Doña Anita when the girls unwrapped the parcels. “I couldn’t have done any better.”

  Don Rodrigo unwrapped his boots and examined the workmanship. He, too, was well satisfied. “They look just like new,” he said.

  “We bought something else,” said Antonio, coming into the room. “Candy…all kinds.”

  He showed what was left of his purchase, which was not much, for he had been sucking lollipops since leaving.

  A worker came in and handed Don Rodrigo a letter. “It’s from Lucio,” said Don Rodrigo.

  “From Papá!” cried Mercedes enthusiastically.

  “Is he coming back for Mercedes?” asked Teresa. “Summer is not over yet.”

  “Let us see what he has to say,” said Don Rodrigo, tearing open the envelope and reading quickly. “Listen:

  “‘Dear Friend: Returning soon. Grand surprise.’”

  “A surprise! A grand surprise!” cried the children. “What could it be?”

  “A gift for everyone, perhaps,” said Ramón. “He has been all over the island.”

  “Will he bring one for me, too?” asked Antonio.

  “Don’t make so much over Lucio’s letter,” said Grandmother. “God only knows what it is he’s calling a surprise. Most likely a good business deal. Run along, Antonio, and stop eating candy. You will have nothing but empty sticks to show your mother.”

  The children were not the only ones excited over Lucio’s news.

  “What in the world can he mean by a grand surprise?” asked Don Rodrigo when Teresa and Mercedes had gone to their room.

  “Let us wait and see,” said his wife. “You sound worse than the children.

  CHAPTER 9

  FIESTA

  The next day, the girls took their material to Sixta, but the novelty of the news Lucio had sent had worn off the excitement of the new dresses.

  “I could hardly sleep,” said Mercedes. “All night I did nothing but turn and turn, and wonder what the surprise would be. Who do you think it’s for, Teresa?”

  “Hope it is for Ramón, as I am hoping.”

  “But why for Ramón, especially?”

  “Because it might be news about his family.”

  “What else is there to know about his family?” said Mercedes. “He knows his parents died long ago. Your father has even tried to find relatives, without any success. I don’t understand what you mean, Teresa.”

  “Exactly what you have just said. There might be other relatives that we don’t know about. Ramón and I are always hoping some letter will bring him more news someday. That’s why I hope Lucio’s surprise might be for him. And you too would hope it would be, if you had lost your parents and didn’t even know who they were. Just think how happy Ramón would be if he actually found out the real story about them.”

  Mercedes kept quiet. She just did not know what to answer. Teresa was right about her hopes, but she had the right to hope for anything else she wanted. If in sixteen years no relatives had ever shown up to claim Ramón, she did not think he had any. Everyone in Cayey and Cidra knew Don Rodrigo and the story about Ramón. It would have been easy to find his relatives if there had been any. No, she was not wasting her hopes on that.

  When they reached Sixta’s house, they told her about Lucio’s letter even before they displayed the goods for her to see.

  “Don’t plan too much,” said Sixta. “It’s better to wait without too much planning. Then the surprise will turn out to be a real one.”

  The girls opened their packages and spread the material for her to see.

  “What fine organdy, and what a soft shade of blue linen.” Sixta was pleased. She knew she would enjoy turning such material into dresses.

  “How are you going to make them? Did you see the fashion magazine I sent Doña Anita? There are two pages of dresses you might like to choose from.”

  “We want them alike,” said Teresa.

  “But you can’t have them alike,” Sixta explained. “The materials are so very different.” She thought for a while.

  “I have an idea,” Sixta said. “If you like, I can have these dresses ready for you soon. This blue material will be just right for a princess-style dress, with a square neck and buttons from top to bottom. I can make the sleeves scalloped and embroider the edges.” There was enthusiasm in Sixta’s voice. She liked nothing better than to follow her own ideas when sewing.

  “Now, Mercedes’ organdy can be made into a dress with two ruffles at the bottom. There is enough material here for even a sash. What do you think, girls?”

  They did not look very happy about Sixta’s plans. Sixta realized that the girls had not understood the description of the dress she had given

  So, she drew two pictures on a piece of paper to illustrate her point.

  The change that came over the girls’ faces satisfied her.

  “It was foolish of us to want two identical dresses, as if we were twins,” said Mercedes, laughing. “I like mine just like this picture.”

  “Me, too,” said Teresa.

  Sixta took their measurements before they left and told them she would let them know when to come back for a fitting.

  When Teresa and Mercedes returned home, they took their mundillos out to the shed. Both had gained speed and were really enjoying their lacemaking.

  “There’s Pilar coming up the hill,” said Mercedes.

  “Ho, Pilar!” called Teresa.

  Pilar waved to them on her way to the house. She stopped by the kitchen to speak with Lucía, then asked to see Doña Anita or Grandmother.

  They were surprised to hear about her call, for Pilar did not come often to the house. If she was here, she must have a reason…a special reason.

  “It’s nice to see you,” said Grandmother, offering her a chair.

  Pilar took out a letter from the pocket of her skirt and handed it to Doña Anita. “Felipe and I thought you ought to see this,” she said.

  “A birthday trulla! Why, Pilar, there has not been a trulla on this finca for years. Felipe is lucky to have his friends remember his birthday in this way. Trullas are omens of merrymaking…and luck for the household where they come. Is there anything we can do to help?”

  Pilar hesitated for a moment. Her request was an unusual one, and she did not know how it would be received.

  Grandmother noticed her hesitation and wondered what could be on her mind. Wasn’t she happy about the trulla?

  “What is it, Pilar?” she asked.

  “There will be some children coming,” said Pilar, “and I thought Mercedes and Teresa might like to meet them and stay to see the trulla. I will look after them and see that they get home safely.”

  That had been the last thing they expected from Pilar, and Grandmother began to laugh.

  “I thought for a while you really did not want the trulla to come, Pilar, and you did not know how to get out of it. I’m glad it was not that,” said Grandmother.

  “Try and keep those two away from anything going on in the finca,” said Doña Anita. “That is your first wish for the trulla, and it is granted. Ramón will bring them in time to see the feast from beginning to end.”

  “Gracias, Doña Anita,” said Pilar. “The girls are in the shed. Will it be all right to tell them?”

  “Not until I tell her father first, Pilar,” said Doña Anita.

  Pilar rose to go. She hoped Don Rodrigo, too, would consent to let the girls participate.

  “Wait a minute, Pilar,” said Grandmother. She left the room and soon returned with a small envelope. “For the trulla,” she said, slipping it into Pilar’s hands.

  Down the road, before she reached her house, Pilar opened the envelope. Folded neatly inside were eight one-dollar bills. Eight one-dollar bills and all for a trulla! But wouldn’t that be ex
travagance? There were so many things they could do with that extra money.

  There was that trip to San Juan Felipe had promised her and the feast of Candelamas Day in the highlands of Guayama—she would like to see that. Then, there was Ponce. Valentín was always talking about Ponce, with its Vigía and its two public plazas. “¡Ay!” She would like to see all those things someday.

  Last year she had heard Grandmother tell about the hot springs in Coamo. Did Grandmother mean real hot water out of the earth? Even that would be worth seeing.

  After dinner, when she had washed her dishes, swept her kitchen and hung up her apron, Pilar went to sit near her husband, who was smoking his cigar outside the door. She told him about her visit to Doña Anita’s home and gave him Grandmother’s gift. “It’s for the trulla,” she said, secretly hoping he would let her keep it.

  But her husband had his own ideas about his gift. Pictures of all the rich food he had always wanted and could not afford rose in his mind.

  “Let’s have a real feast for once, Pilar,” he said. “This is our money…money we have not worked for…a real gift.”

  He enumerated the things he could buy with it. Chickens, olives and capers for the arroz con pollo. He could see his plate garnished with thick slices of pimientos morrones—the tasty Spanish peppers—and sprinkled with green peas. He swallowed hard. Then there were pasteles and almonds, even marzipan for dessert. He went on and on.

  Pilar listened quietly as in his mind he went spending not only the eight dollars but three times the amount.

  He re-read the letter. “Fifteen people, that’s splendid,” he said. “Even Don Goyo is coming. Time is short, Pilar. Better ask some of your friends to give you a hand in the kitchen while I get Gregorio and Valentín to help me lay a floor in the rear of the house. If Don Goyo is coming, there is bound to be music, and if there is music, there will be dancing.”

  On Friday morning, five of Pilar’s friends came to help her. Each brought a gift: green plantains, papayas, tomatoes, onions and casaba bread. When Valentín and Gregorio arrived, they brought three large breadfruits, six dry coconuts and a bowl of dry ginger roots.