Love Takes Root: A contemporary romance novella Read online

  Kara shook her head. Just when she thought she’d recovered from the last humiliation, she went and put her foot in her mouth. No one knew better than she did about rainforest clearcutting. Totally out of her element, she wasn’t herself. Wasn’t thinking. This was exactly why she was best on paper. She had time to think things out, to research her position.

  In a whisper, she responded, “Of course.”

  She let herself out and looked around. The ebbing sunlight was threatened by dark clouds covering the open sky. She made out the thick trunks of kapok trees and their ribbon-like roots lining the side of the narrow road. Their tall canopy reached over a hundred feet above the road. Lush bushes clung to their bases. Just beyond the hillside, rolling grasslands grew hazy in the dark.

  Miles opened the trunk and said, “I need to get some of my tools out—your bag’s in the way. Didn’t think you wanted me touching it.”

  There was no way she could let him know she just felt like sitting back down and crying, so she stomped up beside him, grabbed the handle to her bag and pulled it out. Its weight made it come down quick and heavy. The suitcase banged into her leg, but she didn’t care.

  “You might want to think about stowing your bag in the bushes just in case someone comes by and gets curious about what’s in the trunk. I’m grabbing the tools I can’t afford to lose,” he said as he shoved something into his backpack. When he was done, he carried saws, wrenches and tools she’d never seen before to a large fan-leafed bush nearby.

  “I’m fine.” She gritted her teeth and focused on how much she was beginning to dislike Miles.

  He pulled on his lumpy backpack, grabbed two sleeping bags and, without looking at her, said, “The village we’re staying at is a good walk from here—you sure?”

  Kara stormed over to her car door, yanked out her backpack and put it on while adjusting her straps. Careful to lock the passenger-side before closing it up, she returned to her luggage, gripping it tight.

  “Lead the way.”

  Miles’s head shook ever so slightly, and he started off in the direction the car was pointed. Kara extended the handle on her bag and dragged it behind her, its wheels scraping and bumping over the gritty, muddy road. The sound wasn’t as bad as nails on a chalkboard, but after ten minutes, it grated on her nerves, which were already raw. She didn’t want to run the risk of the suitcase getting stolen if she left it behind. If it got lost, she might as well go home.

  The only thing that distracted her from the misery of the moment was the flora surrounding them. Scientific names of plants ran through her mind as she peered along the roadside. From underneath the cover of large green fronds, she spotted something bright red. Kara left her bag to stray off the road to take a closer look. The familiar pouty lips she’d only seen on the pages of her plant encyclopedia greeted her. She couldn’t help but smile.

  “We moving, or what? You gotta go to the bathroom?” Miles called over to her.

  She shook her head. “It’s Psychotria poeppigiana. Do their flowers remind you of anything?”

  He gave a groan and stepped closer to see. “Yeah, they look like lips.”

  “That’s why they’re known as ‘hot lips.’”

  “Well, Miss Hot Lips—time to get going. Looks like it’s going to start raining any minute.” He returned to the road and continued walking.

  Kara glared at his back and, with reluctance, followed after him. She looked up at the cloud-washed sky and darkening light. Moisture hung in the air. Kara could almost taste the storm on her tongue. It was close. She breathed in deeply, letting the delicious scent in through her nose and lungs. Earth, moments before its renewing shower. If she’d been home in California, she would have enjoyed the needed moisture. Kara might have walked onto her back deck to stand in the rain, but hiking along the dirt road in rural Honduras was an entirely different situation. The heat of the day didn’t leave her sweaty and hot. The storm brought the temperature down to a comfortable range.

  When the first raindrop slapped against her skin, it curled down her arm. Others followed, and they all soon found her dry spots and soaked into her clothing. Her hair no longer hung with sweat, but funneled water from the top of her head.

  She gripped the handle to her hardtop suitcase. At least it was waterproof. It had been something special she’d bought for the trip. No one ever accused her of being unprepared.

  Ahead of her, Miles leaned forward and pressed on.

  This had better be worth it, Miles thought to himself.

  The rain meant more work, and he didn’t have time to spend showing this useless woman around. She clearly didn’t know anything about bringing a project to fruition. How was he supposed to believe she had the answers to the villagers’ problems? She didn’t even know how to plan for an out-of-country trip.

  All of this had been her fault. She’d distracted him from focusing on the road. This wouldn’t have happened normally—because normally he worked alone. That was how he liked it. No one got in his way or slowed him down. After his first assignment with another HTC engineer on location in Mexico, it had become clear he didn’t have the patience to work closely with others.

  Miles recalled the phone call he’d had with Dave two months ago… This could be the key to your water table issues. The president of United Rainforest Fund says there’s a list of communities that want to be involved with their new program. The woman who created it is handpicking the first location, so if you can get her support, then your problems in Honduras might get resolved. But listen up, Miles—I know you—you can’t let your attitude get in the way of this partnership. She’s on the same side—remember that. Play nice.

  Play nice. Right. He might have strayed from his boss’s instructions, but Dave wasn’t here. He didn’t know what Kara was like. Miles could tell just by looking at her that she’d never been out of the States. She was one of those book-smart people who thought they knew everything, but in the real world had zero working knowledge. A waste of space. A roadblock.

  A raindrop hit his eye and he blinked it away. The storm was relentless; rain hammered the ground. Rivulets cut through the road, creating tiny streams of red clay down the hillside. Quebrada de Aqua was at least another half hour by foot. He was wasting time on the road when he should have been there, checking to make sure the cement he’d poured yesterday was dry under the plastic he’d laid out. He wanted to be there to confirm the time and effort he’d just put into the sanitation project hadn’t been wasted.

  Miles looked over his shoulder to check on Kara. Her brown hair hung in wet strands, which clung to her resolved face. Her forehead wrinkled and her eyes squinted against the rain, or maybe she was deep in thought. The cream T-shirt clung to her body like a second skin, he noticed before forcing his gaze away. She was determined—he had to concede that at least. Obviously her skin and hair-care products, along with whatever else women insist on traveling with, were too important for her to leave behind in the car. Typical.

  He tilted his head to the side to adjust one of the backpack straps, which was digging into his shoulder. The weight from the tools, added to the wet straps and shirt, rubbed uncomfortably on his skin. He didn’t care, though—he’d endured far worse. A dislocated shoulder had slowed him down when he was in Belize, but it wasn’t anything a little force and a couple hours of using the other arm hadn’t taken care of.

  A beam of light appeared ahead of him, directed at the road and the greenery beside it. Miles turned around again to see Kara holding a flashlight. She yelled through the sound of the rain, “It’s so dark—are you sure you know where you’re going?”

  He’d been working in these valleys and mountains for the last six months, helping to install wells and creating proper sanitation. Of course he knew where he was. Who did she think she was talking to? He tensed but held his tongue. Dave had asked him to behave. He answered with a clenched jaw, “Yeah.”

  The sound of her suitcase got closer, and the flashlight beam bobbed from left to r
ight. He didn’t have to turn his head to sense her beside him. He sped up his gait to get some distance between them, but her legs moved faster to keep up. Miles groaned, a sound that was likely concealed by the storm, but he didn’t really care if it wasn’t. He eased up, giving in to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of her just yet. Six more days, that was all.

  She kept up with him and remained silent. He didn’t think she was walking beside him for the company but for the protection, which was an interesting change. It had only been a few hours ago that she’d jumped away from his approach. For a reason he couldn’t figure, he realized he enjoyed the thought of her standing close.

  Miles had no idea how long they walked, but by the time they got to the turnoff, Kara looked numb and dazed. The rain began to let up, or maybe it only felt that way now that they were walking in denser cover. Rainforest surrounded them as dark, looming shapes. He pointed to the wide trail that led away from the road they’d been walking on. It was even narrower and far less worn.

  He walked ahead of Kara, who paused, looking unsure. When he’d moved a good fifteen feet from her, she hurried to catch up, her flashlight combing from side to side. Miles wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but hoped she didn’t find it. Her ragged breath caught his ear, and he tilted his head to look at her. It was obvious she’d had enough.

  “It’s just up ahead. A couple minutes away,” he said, his voice deep and breathless.

  She nodded. Her eyebrows pulled together in determination as she gripped one of the straps to her backpack with her free hand.

  Most of the narrow road was covered with patches of grass, although worn areas were only exposed dirt. Because of the rain, they’d become muddy potholes. The land sloped downhill in the direction of soft lights. The town was finally in sight.

  Kara sighed and muttered, “Finally.”

  No sooner had she spoken than she yelped as she slipped down a slick patch on the road. Her flashlight dropped to the ground as she landed on her backside. Miles stopped to look at her. She lay there unmoving, staring up at the canopy above them. If he didn’t know better, he would have guessed she was waiting for a hand. But there was no way she wanted him to touch her.

  “You okay?” he asked gruffly.

  She didn’t answer but slowly propped herself up. Her suitcase lay beside her in a grassy patch. Her eyes blinked rapidly. She appeared to be holding back tears. In that moment, he didn’t care what she wanted—he reached out for her.

  “No, I’m fine—I don’t need your help,” she said, waving her hand to shoo him away.

  Ignoring her, he grabbed her hand and forearm and pulled her out of the mud. “Tough,” he grunted.

  He lifted her upright. She stood stiff, with her arms and legs frozen in place. Her mud-covered body was only an inch from his own. Kara avoided his eyes while she stood looking miserable. A large streak of clay arced across her cheek. Before he could stop himself, he wiped the mud from her face with his fingers.

  In a hurry, he backed away and grabbed her suitcase. “Come on, Hot Lips, you can get changed when we get there. It’s only a hundred more yards.”

  She followed behind him like an apparition, the sound of her hiking boots scuffing and sloshing on the ground. When they got closer to the structures and the soft glowing light, Miles called out. Familiar faces appeared in the dark. He was relieved to be back.

  A few of the villagers came out to greet them, so he made the introductions. “Esta es Kara.”

  She gave a weak smile and used the only word of Spanish he’d ever heard her speak, “Hola.”

  He didn’t understand why she even bothered saying it. Why would you travel to a place and not even try to learn more than that? During his first month here, he’d learned so much by trying and failing to speak the words he hoped he knew. Her silence in their presence angered him.

  The rain had completely stopped, and the clouds were parting in the sky. A small amount of moonlight shone down on the wet landscape, casting an ambient glow.

  They were invited into the largest home in the village, an adobe base with a thatched roof. Kara’s eyes swept across the cement floor of the single-room house. This was clearly the first time she’d ever witnessed poverty firsthand. It was the sort of thing that changed you for life, and if it didn’t, there was something wrong with you.

  Tortillas and beans were offered, along with sweetened coffee. Kara blinked with wide eyes at the food, then turned to Miles. “Is it safe?”

  “If you’d asked me two weeks ago, maybe not. But now they have a well, which has potable water. It’s safe.”

  She looked at her muddy backside and hands. “I’m not very clean. Can I wash up before I eat?”

  Miles dropped their sleeping bags, then slipped off his backpack and motioned for Kara to do the same. He excused them from their hosts and led her outside. She gave her belongings one last glance before following him out.

  “Your stuff’s safe,” he growled.

  Her eyes widened at his comment. She mumbled in response, “Oh, I didn’t think…”

  Ignoring her, he led her through the moonlight to a slope fifty yards away, where a wide pipe and hand pump came out of a slab of cement.

  Miles motioned to the well. “The water’s okay to drink, finally. This area is swampy and because of that, it’s easy for the water to get contaminated, but because the well’s tapping the water table, they’re finally getting a clean supply.” While he talked, he watched her move in the moonlight. She reached out for the metal handle. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she pumped it up and down, and a slow stream of water flowed from the mouth of the well. Kara reached her hands out and rubbed them together, cleaning them. He observed her in silence as she continued to rinse off. When she was done, he took her place.

  Kara brushed water off her forehead. “I hear HTC doesn’t just do wells?”

  Once he rinsed his hands, he cupped them to take a deep drink. When he finished, they started back down the slope, moving slowly to the village. His mind fell to the cement he’d just poured, and he gave a distracted answer. “Clean water’s only one of the problems. We teach them about the importance of sanitation. We provide soap and show them how to keep a clean environment. If they don’t already have them, we build bathrooms a safe distance away so nothing gets contaminated.”

  “I read an article about that. Aren’t the young most at risk of dying from bad hygiene?”

  He was surprised she knew something about the subject. So far, she’d just come off as an unprepared eco-nerd. Miles shoved his hands in his pockets and lifted his eyes to look at her. “That happens a lot. Children die from something that’s easy to prevent.” He raked his fingers through his hair and said, “I need to go check on my latest project—”

  Kara’s eyes drifted past the house that held their waiting dinner, then surprised him by asking, “Can I see?”

  He couldn’t suppress a sigh. “Sure.”

  If Miles was tired, Kara had to be exhausted. Not everyone’s passion was clean water and wastewater management. He’d learned years ago that talking about his work at a party could kill the mood real quick. Maybe he was making another horrible mistake with the woman he was supposed to be building a relationship with, but he didn’t really care. If she wanted to know the struggles of a rural Honduran, then he was going to show her. If she wasn’t tough enough to handle it, he’d rather know now.

  They walked out to a hill that sloped away from the village. A faint trail led them to a sheet of opaque plastic laid out on the ground. Water glistened in the moonlight as Miles lifted up rocks anchoring the edges. He leaned over and pressed his fingers against the exposed cement surrounding the cinder blocks. It was cool and rigid. A small amount of water was in the base of the pit, but the plastic appeared to have done its job.

  “What’s this going to be?” Her voice was surprisingly close to his ear.

  Miles turned his head and found her leaning over beside him. “I just poured the ceme
nt yesterday for the outhouse. Phase two for the village. Only problem is, I’ve been waiting on my shipment of biodegradable soap—some holdup with our supplier. Everything moves slow around here.”

  Just saying those words raised his blood pressure. It was the one thing that drove him crazy about the culture. No one seemed to be in a hurry to improve the quality of life for the poverty-stricken. Maybe they were too used to it and didn’t know any better, but he did. He knew that with a little elbow grease and money, things could turn around. She didn’t say anything in response, which was just as well. He didn’t want to talk about it, because it would only leave him in a bad mood.

  Miles could tell by the way she was bracing her hands on her knees that she was sore, so he led her back the way they’d come. They reentered the adobe home to eat their no-frills dinner.

  When the fire had been put out, they lay down on the concrete floor in their sleeping bags. He stared across the room at Kara, who was curled up in the fetal position. The long hike in the rain must have exhausted her, because she was already asleep. He could not understand why she was there, but with his shirt rolled up beneath his head for a pillow, he watched the rise and fall of her chest until he drifted off.

  The reverberating screech of a rooster’s call woke Kara with a start. Her head rolled off her backpack, and her cheek touched the cool, dusty cement floor. Her muscles were still sore from their long walk, and her joints ached after her night on the ground. Somehow, she’d gone right to sleep, despite her misery at the end of one of the worst days in her life. This was certainly nothing like anything she’d ever experienced before. She’d known rural Honduras wouldn’t have all of the creature comforts of home, but nothing had truly prepared her for what she’d seen when they’d walked into the village last night.

  Soft coughs came from nearby. “Buenos días, Kara.”