Firefly Summer (5 page)

In the midst of drilling Antonio, Grandmother called Teresa. A peasant had come with a box for her. She ran to the kitchen. She did not know the man. The box was square and tied with a strong cord. On one side of it was a scrap of paper pasted with her name written on it. She did not know the handwriting either.

“Who could have sent it,
Mamá
?” she asked, turning the box to see if it had any other marks of identification. The man had said it came from the confectionery in Cidra, but he did not know who had bought it.

“Open it,” said Grandmother, “and stop asking questions.”

The box was filled with almonds, lollipops, rock candy and all sorts of cookies. There was an envelope addressed to her, and she recognized the handwriting.

“It's from
Papá
!” she cried, tearing open the envelope.

She read the note quickly. The expression that came upon her face was one of complete disappointment. She closed the box slowly.

“What is it, Teresa?” asked her mother.

“
Papá
won't be able to come to the closing of the feast. Business,” she said.

“Whatever is detaining him must be important,” said Grandmother, trying to cheer her granddaughter. “Rodrigo has never missed a closing or opening of the feast.”

“What are you going to do with so much candy?” said her mother, trying to take her daughter's mind from the bad news. “You should see what Juana has for you, too.”

But Teresa showed little interest. What could be keeping her father in town all day and part of the evening? Not to have him the very first time she was to conduct the feast, that was the worst possible thing that could happen to her. She laid the box on the kitchen table. Ramón was waiting for her to finish the carols. She felt all her previous enthusiasm leaving her. As she turned to go, Juana came into
the kitchen, her arms full of packages. At the sight of Teresa, she stood still, not knowing what to do.

“Come along, Juana,” said Doña Anita, “we have told Teresa already. Her father has disappointed her, and not even the sight of all the candy you have in those boxes will cheer her. What will ever happen to the feast tonight?”

Juana made room on the table for her packages and opened the boxes to let Teresa see their contents. There were all shapes and varieties in her selections of homemade candy, for which Juana was famous.

“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.”

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.

“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.