Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree Read Online Free PDF Page A

had managed to run faster than all his cousins, even those a couple of years older than himself, even if he had run in a slightly odd way, one foot facing inwards. As a young man he was the best polo player on the ranch. There is no doubt about it,’ said his father proudly, ‘young Santiago has a rare courage not often seen these days. He’ll go far. And he’ll have earned every step of the way.’
    ‘Fantastic, isn’t it!’ beamed a triumphant Sofia, when her cousin joined her. ‘Do you have the penknife? I want to make a wish.’
    ‘What are you going to wish for this time? It won’t come true,’ Santi said, sitting down and swinging his legs in the air. ‘I don’t know why you bother.’ He sniffed. But Sofia’s hand was already running over the trunk, searching the bark for traces of their past.
    ‘Oh yes it will, maybe not this year, but one day when it’s really important. You know the tree knows which wishes to grant and which wishes to ignore.’ And she patted it fondly.
    ‘Now you’re going to tell me the damn tree thinks and feels,’ he scoffed, pushing his thick blond hair off his forehead with a sweaty hand.
    ‘You’re just an ignorant fool, Santi, but one day you’ll learn. You wait. One day you’ll really need a wish to come true and then when no one’s looking, you’ll sneak up here in the dark to carve your mark in this trunk.’ She laughed.
    ‘I’d rather go and see La Vieja Bruja in town. That old witch has more chance of directing my future than this silly tree.’
    ‘Go and see her then if you like - if you can hold your breath long enough not to smell her. Oh, here’s one,’ she exclaimed, finding one of their latest wishes carved into the wood. Like an old wound, it had left a tidy white scar.
    Maria joined them, flushed and hot from exertion. Her tawny brown hair fell about her shoulders in wispy curls, sticking slightly to her glistening round cheeks.
    ‘Look at the view, it’s magnificent!’ she gasped, gazing about her. But her cousin had lost interest in the view and was busy scanning the bark for her artistry.
    ‘I think that one was mine,’ she said, stepping onto the branch above Santi’s so she could study it a little closer. ‘Yes, definitely mine - my symbol, you see?’
    ‘It might have been a symbol six months ago but it’s a smudge now,’ said Santi, pushing himself up and settling on another bumpy arm of the tree.
    ‘I drew a star - I’m quite good at drawing stars,’ she replied proudly. ‘Hey, Maria, where’s yours?’
    Maria edged her way up her branch with unsteady steps. After orientating herself a moment she crossed over Santi’s and sat down on a lower branch close to the trunk. Finding her scar she fingered it nostalgically.
    ‘My symbol was a bird,’ she said, and smiled at the recollection.
    ‘What was that for?’ asked Sofia, jumping confidently down to join her.
    ‘You’ll laugh if I tell you,’ she replied bashfully.
    ‘No, we won’t,’ said Santi. ‘Has it come true?’
    ‘Of course not, and it never will, but it’s still worth wishing for,’ she said.
    ‘Well?’ urged Sofia, intrigued now that her cousin was reluctant to tell them.
    ‘Okay. I wished for a beautiful voice so I can sing with Mama’s guitar,’ she said, then raising her hazel eyes saw that they were both laughing.
    ‘So, the bird symbolizes “song”,’ said Santi, grinning broadly.
    ‘I suppose so, although that wasn’t exactly why I drew it.’
    ‘Then why did you, dopey?’
    ‘Because I like birds and there was one in the tree as I made the wish. It was really close. Adorable. You know, Papa always said that the symbol doesn’t have to have anything to do with your wish. You just have to make your mark. Anyway, my bird’s not that funny - and it was a year ago. I was only fourteen at the time. If mine’s so funny what was your wish, Sofia?’
    ‘I wished for Papa to let me play in the Copa Santa Catalina .' she replied haughtily,