Free Summer Dreams by Hebby Roman Page B

the farmyard. Moving from window to window, she stared at the perfect rows of vegetables. Nothing moved there, only a wavering mirage of shimmering sunlight, creating a non-existent pool of water between the vegetable rows.
    She licked her lips and uncrossed her arms, registering the heat of the summer day. The waterfall haunted her again, and the thought of an icy plunge enticed her. When was the last time she'd swam there? The summer before her engagement. After that, she hadn't felt comfortable wearing a bathing suit in Esteban's presence or going there by herself.
    Forget about the damned waterfall. Find something else to do.
    She didn't see Esteban. Most likely, he was in the far corner of the farm, attending to the squash plants. Not as fragile as the tomatoes, they needed only periodic care, which reminded her of her own experiment---the asparagus beds.
    Pura hadn't attempted asparagus before because they needed an inordinate amount of patience and care. The beds only produced a handful of sprouts after the first three to four years.  But asparagus was her favorite vegetable, and she craved a challenge, so she'd started some beds this summer. Now she wasn't so sure about being here to see them produce, but the excuse to go outside was powerful. She hadn't watered them in several days, and the last time she'd looked, they needed weeding.
    She pulled open the door and pushed back the screen. Glancing around, no one was in sight. She grabbed the water hose and tugged it along, untangling knots as she went. For her asparagus beds, she'd chosen a sheltered plot, twelve feet by twelve feet, behind the barn.
    With the hose in position, she trotted back to the faucet and turned the water on, directing the spray on her nascent beds while assessing the weed situation. Johnson grass sprouted there with a sprinkling of milkweeds. She'd need about an hour to pull them by hand. Not liking to use chemicals, she allowed the water to soften the ground.
    Starting at the corner closest to the barn, she backed up slowly, spraying the beds completely as she went. At the end of the first row, she crossed to the other row and started again. Pacing backwards, she pulled the hose along, directing its nozzle at the knobs of the plants.
    Her heel sank down. A loud crack split the air. The ground went soft. Her balance lost, she threw up her hands, dropping the hose. She struggled to regain her balance and stepped back.  Another pop resounded, leaving her without footing, throwing her backwards. Arms wheeling in the air, she tumbled down. 
    The ground sank beneath her. Instinctively, she grabbed for a handhold, clutching a fistful of muddy earth. Despite her tentative hold, her legs hurtled downward with a sickening slide, wood scraping against flesh. With a thud, she found solid ground, landing on a ledge, several feet beneath the earth.  For long moments, Natalia clung to the earth, her carefully-manicured nails sunk deeply into the mire.
    What had happened? It was as if she'd fallen into a pit. But what pit? Afraid to move an inch, she held fast and searched her memory. The answer came with a blinding flash---the old well behind the barn. The ancient well had been her great-grandparents only source of water.  Upon the advent of running water, the well had been abandoned and boarded over. Natalia had forgotten about its existence.
    Until now.
    When she'd planted the asparagus beds, she hadn't noticed the well, but now she remembered her grandmother's admonition from childhood: don't go behind the barn unless you step carefully. She knew why she hadn't seen the well before. The boarded-over hole was completely obscured by weeds. 
    Now that she knew what she'd fallen into, her panic subsided. She waited several seconds, counting to ten and then twenty, taking deep breaths and allowing her pounding heart to slow. She estimated the drop. Her chest was pressed against the rim of the opening. She needed to lift herself approximately four feet.