Firefly Summer Read Free

tending them until they were ready for transplanting. She remembered the first time she had seen thefirst plots covered with cheesecloth to protect the shoots. At first she had not known what they were, looking to her like clouds dropped from the sky. “Come and see the clouds,” her father always said, whenever the workers were busy covering the patches.
    They were close to the fruit farm now. The laborers had baskets filled with fruit strapped to their backs. One of the youngest of the workers came to the edge of the road to look at the coach. He had a band across his forehead to keep his hair out of his eyes and to sop up the perspiration. His resemblance to Ramón made her jump to the side of the coach, from where she could take a better look at him. He was strong, tall and brown-skinned, with high cheekbones and small eyes. He could easily pass for Ramón’s twin brother. “Poor Ramón,” she said aloud.
    â€œDid you say something?” asked Juana, turning back.
    â€œOh, no,” she answered quickly. Here she was thinking aloud again. Yet, that boy at that farm did look like Ramón. She must not forget to tell him when she reached home.
    Juana and Filimón were engaged in conversation, and now and then parts of sentences came back to her above the noise of the wheels on the road. Filimón was telling Juana how he had come to own a line of coaches in San Juan. He had twohorses in a stable in Caguas, which he would exchange for the ones pulling the coach now. “Fresh ones for the remainder of the trip,” she heard him explain.
    All along the road to Caguas the
flamboyán
trees were ready to bloom. Teresa wished she could have made the trip two weeks later. Then she would have seen them shining bright red as if ablaze. There was one
flamboyán
tree along the road to Cidra which she and Sixta saw one summer when it burst into flowers. She had never forgotten the sight of it. Later on in the year, they had stood under its branches to listen to the “Housewives tales,” as they called the murmuring sound of the dry long pods that come out after the blooms fell. Grandmother had told her many of the legends connected with the tree. She often thought of the girl who stood under it every year, waiting for the blooms to open and having her wish come true.
    When they entered Caguas, Filimón rode to the outskirts of the town to exchange his team of horses. How fast the coach went now. Soon they were out in the middle of the road again and nearing a small store on the side of a hill. The sound of children’s voices reached their ears.
    â€œWhere are they, Juana? Can you see them from your seat?” Teresa cried excitedly.
    â€œThere, under the trees, petite,” said Filimón, stopping the coach.
    At the sight of the coach, the children scampered from under the trees, shouting, “Compre…compre flores—Buy, buy flowers.” Their hands were full of bunches of wild flowers wrapped in green leaves. Juana bought two bunches and gave them to Teresa, then went into the store. Teresa stayed with the children at the edge of the hill, from where they tried to point to their homes for her. One little girl gave Teresa a bunch of wild strawberries she had picked along the road.
    â€œCome inside and see what you want, Teresa,” called Juana.
    The store was one large room with a counter stretching the full length. On it were bottles of soft drinks, homemade candy and baskets of freshly made cheese. Bunches of ripe bananas hung from the rafters, and the floor was filled with sacks of brown sugar, rice, coffee and a variety of beans.
    â€œI want some cheese and crackers,” said Teresa. She picked up two boxes of crackers. “For the children,” she told Juana. “Why don’t you buy them something, too?”
    Juana gave her a handful of coconut candy. Teresa divided the crackers and candy among the children who were sitting on the side