Guardian of the Fountain
Page 2
“Nobody picks at their food and doesn’t care about their appearance unless they’ve been dumped. You need to visit Marla’s salon pronto.” Marla smiled, pleased with her spot-on assessment.
“I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me with a rich socialite from Dallas.”
“Ouch.” Marla dug around in her bag and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. “How long did you date?”
“Off and on for two years.”
“Double ouch,” Marla said as she lit up. “The way I see it, he doesn’t deserve you. Sure, you reflect the sun and you need a good blowout, but you’re a pretty girl. Plus, you have to have brains to be a nurse. It just shows that he had no brains.”
“So, what are you running from, then?” Chrissie’s skin tingled from the heat of the sun on her bare skin. The tanning oil, which smelled like coconut and lime, reminded her that she was not on some ordinary rooftop—she was in an exotic locale.
“I don’t know. I just got so tired of my life, all the unnecessary drama. If you don’t go clubbing every weekend on the arm of a Guido, you’re a nobody. Someone’s always feuding with someone else.” A puff of smoke escaped her lips. “Then I got my ma riding me all the time. ‘Marla Sophia DePandi, your eggs are going to dry up any day. When are you gonna give your mamma some grandchildren?’ And I’d yell back, ‘As soon as I can find a classy man, not some chauvinistic Guido.’ I’m not going to stay at home, cook, clean, and pop out babies every year for my man.” Marla tapped the ashes from her cigarette into an ashtray near her chair. “I’m a career woman. I want a fancy apartment and a real man. Someone who has his crap together.”
“I’d settle for a man without an STD.” Chrissie laughed.
“No way! He had an STD? Did you get trich?” Marla sat up in her chair and pulled off her sunglasses, surprised.
“You mean the foul smelling trichomoniasis?”
“Yeah, whatevs’. What you said.”
“No, but his new girlfriend did.” Chrissie’s laugh escaped her lips. This trip to the rooftop was doing wonders for the soul—good girl talk, relaxing in the sun, and a stress-relieving laugh. “That’s one of the reasons he cheated … I’m a virgin.”
“No kidding? I gotta give you props, girl. I wish I had that kind of self-control. The nun life isn’t for me.” Marla resumed her position behind her sunglasses.
“Yeah, I might be a bit old-fashioned, but I just don’t want to give something so private to just anybody. If I did, I would feel like I was being used.” Chrissie turned over onto her stomach and let the sun warm her back.
“Isn’t that true? It’s a mutual using and throwing away, isn’t it? I hadn’t thought about it that way. Maybe there is something to this celibacy thing.”
“Oh, I don’t want to be celibate forever. I’m going to wait for marriage. Not with any man … my man.”
“Chrissie, my grandmother would say you are an old soul. I think I’ll keep you around, maybe you can be the one to steer me in the right direction.”
Chapter 2
Brant wanted to throw the broken-down air-conditioning unit off the roof. It was the third time this month he’d been up here to fix it for Señora Cruz. He couldn’t see the eighty-year-old woman fixing it herself, and she could only pay him in menudo. Not that he needed the money, but he’d rather just buy her a new unit. She refused every time he offered, saying, “Why buy something new when the old can be fixed?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw blonde hair blowing in the breeze. His eyes focused in on two girls sunbathing on the rooftop two buildings over. One reminded him of his girlfriend, Valencia. The other looked like a sleeping angel with a halo of brilliant blonde hair. The fair-skinned beauty, which was a rare sight around these parts, intrigued him.
The realization that he was staring made him divert his eyes back to the task at hand. Besides, he needed to finish the job so he could be in Caracas by evening for his dinner date. He wondered if the hour-long drive and an evening alone with Valencia were really worth it. Most days, it seemed like work to make her happy. It probably wasn’t.
He reattached the metal grate to the unit and climbed down the ladder. Tomorrow, he would call for a new unit to be put on Señora Cruz’s house in the morning while she was gone to Mass. She wouldn’t know the difference, but he would. He would save his visits for menudo only and leave the rooftop visits in the past.
On the way to Caracas, his mind continually revisited the sleeping angel and wondered what had brought her here to the village. He recognized the other woman as one of the humanitarian nurses at the clinic. The blonde girl was probably a new nurse. He would ask Dr. Wilson about her next week when he dropped off supplies.
* * *
“I think that’s the last of the crates, Dr. Wilson.” Brant removed his work gloves and wiped his brow with his arm.
“I appreciate it. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know. You do so much for this clinic already. We are forever in your debt.” Dr. Wilson shook Brant’s hand warmly.
“It’s my pleasure. But I do have one favor. Who is that new nurse you have working here?”
“Ah, Chrissie. She is a rare gem. I see you’ve noticed her.” Dr. Wilson cocked a brow and grinned.
“Well, of course I noticed her. She is the first naturally blonde girl I’ve seen in the village.” Brant felt the corners of his lips turn up at the thought of her in her bathing suit.
“She’s a new shipment from the States. Came here just last week and is already invaluable to me. Her work ethic puts us all to shame. The only problem is her Spanish.” Dr. Wilson chuckled. “But give her six months, and she’ll be talking like a native. She’s a quick learner. Just yesterday, she mastered stitches that took me three months to learn. You stay away, Brant Wilson. I don’t want you running away with my best nurse.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got my hands full with Valencia.”
* * *
Chrissie walked by Arturo’s produce stand on her way home from work. Her feet ached, although her spirits were high. Her spirit radiated joy from the service she was doing at the clinic. Who knew that working for only room and board could be so fulfilling? She was going to have a hard time leaving in almost six months’ time. The previous six months had flown by in a flurry of busywork.
Papayas, bananas, mangoes, and many other delicious fruits lined the table in the market. Every morning for the past five months, she had bought something to supplement her packed lunch, and Arturo always managed to sneak in a little more than she expected. Then on the way home, she would pick from his stand and a few other stands in the market for dinner.
“Venezuela is good for you, mija. You glow now.”
“It’s all this fresh food I’ve been eating. The produce in the States tastes like dirt compared to yours. I don’t think eating from a vending machine on night shift is so good for the health, either.” Chrissie picked three apricots from a basket and handed them to Arturo.
Arturo took them and put them in a paper sack with a bunch of bananas. “On the house,” he said. “María said she wants you to stop by the casa. She says her heart hurts again.”
“You and I both know that she has a stronger heart than any thirty-year-old.”
“Sí, her heart hurts because it misses you. She has adopted you as one of her own. Can’t say I blame her.”
“I see her every morning on my way to work.” Chrissie’s words were filled with amusement. “But I will go because I miss her too.” Her laughter amazed her. Six months ago, I never would’ve thought this was possible, to find such happiness in my life that doesn’t involve Trey. He was time wasted.
“Say hello to Marla for me, mija.”
“Thank you, Arturo. I will.”
* * *
“It’s been a few months since you got rid of that chupacabra of a woman. It is time to move on, and I have the perfect girl for you.” María continued to knead the bread dough in her bowl. Flour dusted her arms all the way up to
her elbows. A tidy cook was one thing María was not.
Brant sighed heavily. “I don’t want to date anymore. I’ve searched this long for a girl, and have come up empty-handed. I just don’t think it is in the cards for me. I can’t leave this place for longer than a week. I have too many responsibilities.” Brant leaned the kitchen chair back against the wall, throwing an orange into the air and catching it over and over again.
“Please, mijo. Just this last time,” María begged. “I just know she is the one. I can feel it.” She glanced out the window. “In fact, here she comes.”
“What?” Brant exclaimed as he sat up abruptly, and the chair gave way out from under him. He tumbled to the floor and quickly recovered by hopping to his feet. “I can’t be here.”
“I let you decide after you see her.” María shoved Brant into the pantry closet and shut the door. She wiped her hands on her apron and answered the front door.
“María, Arturo sent me over.” Through the slats in the pantry door, Brant watched the pretty blonde American nurse walk across the threshold.
“Yes, mija. Come sit. I will get you a bowl of pozole.” María went to the stove and ladled some soup into a bowl for the woman.
“María, you spoil me.”
“It is well deserved. You look exhausted from your day at the clinic.”
“The only effects of the day are my aching feet. I’m really very happy and could probably work another eight hours, but Dr. Wilson kicked me out and said to go home.”
María did have good taste. This was the same woman Brant had seen now and then around the village. He had tried to keep his mind off her, but he frequently caught himself daydreaming about her. María was usually right, but he couldn’t just come out of the pantry and introduce himself. That would be very awkward, to say the least.
“Arturo said your Spanish is almost perfecto.” María beamed at the woman as she ate.
“Arturo is too kind. I can understand it and speak most of it, but everyone speaks so fast. It is hard to keep up.”
“Let’s have a little girl talk, shall we?” María glanced at the pantry door and smiled. “Do you have any novios in your life?”
The blonde’s soft giggle sounded like music in Brant’s ears. “No way. My boyfriend cheated on me, and I dumped him. I’m very glad I did, too, or I wouldn’t be here. I can’t imagine ever leaving.”
Brant watched as the conversation between María and the woman continued, but he couldn’t get past the part that she was single. Inner elation made him want to jump out of the pantry closet, but he restrained himself. The woman finished her soup and thanked María before leaving an air of magic in her wake. As soon as María closed the front door behind the woman, she immediately opened the pantry door, releasing Brant from its confines.
“Well?” María asked. “What do you think?”
“I think she is lovely.” Brant smiled. “Right, as usual.”
“So?” María waited expectantly.
Brant bent down and kissed the native on the cheek. “So, I think it’s time for me to go home.” He winked at María as he walked out the front door.
* * *
“I don’t know why I still smoke these. I don’t even like them.” Marla threw the cigarette onto the ground and smashed it into the dirt with her toe.
“The only time I see you smoke now is once after work. You used to smoke like a chimney.” Chrissie smiled as she leaned back into the doorframe on the front step.
“You’re right. I think I’ve smoked my last cigarette.” Marla sat down next to Chrissie on the step. “I’ve even stopped teasing my hair. I don’t need to anymore now that it has enough body. What’s in the water here? It must be all that healthy food we’ve been eating. The Jersey smog seems to be slowly wearing off.”
“Two things that will be hard to get rid of are the heels and the leopard prints.” Chrissie jabbed Marla in the ribs with her elbow.
“I will never give up the heels.” Marla smiled and laid her head on Chrissie’s shoulder. “Are we going to the carnival tonight?”
“Didn’t we just go to a street party last week?” Chrissie tried not to sound like she was whining. She really wanted to take a hot bath and watch a steamy telenovela.
“No, that was just some random music and dancing in the street.”
“Oh … it did have that sort of flash mob feel to it, didn’t it?”
“This carnival is one of two parties thrown by the village’s rich mayor or something. One of the other nurses says he’s British. He’s probably fat, ugly, and has bad teeth. You know, smokes a pipe and drinks brandy…the whole bit.”
“Probably, because we both know we’re thousands of miles away from anything resembling a hunk,” Chrissie agreed.
“Ah, who cares? We should go. The Jersey girl in me is screaming for a party. In fact, I feel a makeover coming on.”
“Uh-oh.” Chrissie shook her head against the idea.
“I promise I won’t tease your hair, and I’ll leave the bronzer in my makeup bag. It’s a good thing you have a tan now or I’d have to call in the big guns.” Marla pulled Chrissie up from the step and into their apartment. “You have to stop wearing a ponytail sometime.” Marla began pulling out dresses and throwing them on the bed until she decided on a light peach sundress and some wedges for Chrissie. Marla’s flurry of tools and tricks worked their magic. Chrissie’s hair was pulled around a round brush and blow-dried into large, soft waves down her back. Marla’s eye shadow palette made her look like a professional artist working on Chrissie’s blank canvas. After an hour and a half, Marla finally handed Chrissie gold hoop earrings.
“Oh, no.” Chrissie waved away the earrings. “I’m not from Jersey.”
“Yes. I’m putting my foot down right this second. It’s either gold hoops or animal prints.”
“All right.” Chrissie swiped the earrings from Marla’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be your guinea pig, but that’s only because there’s no chance I’ll see anyone good-looking and over five six tonight.”
“That’s a good girl.”
* * *
“I feel a little uncomfortable.” Chrissie tugged at the hem of her peach dress. It was three inches shorter than she would’ve liked. “I haven’t worn this much makeup since the pageant I was in.”
“You were in a pageant?” Marla turned to Chrissie, astonished.
“It’s like a rite of passage for a girl in Texas. I did it for the college scholarship money, though. My mom did it for the fun of dressing me up.” Chrissie linked arms with Marla as they made their way down the street toward the carnival.
A string of light bulbs zigzagged across all of Main Street, flickering as people laughed and danced underneath them. A small band played on a makeshift stage in the middle of the street. Instead of the usual produce stands lining the street, tables of baked goods and sangría beckoned to be sampled.
“Okay, I must admit, this is better than I thought it was going to be.”
“First stop…the sangría! Wahoo!” Marla tugged Chrissie toward the table of punch and sodas. “You can take the girl outta the party, but you can’t take the party outta the girl.”
“You go ahead. I think I’ll go say hello to María.” Chrissie laughed at her friend’s enthusiasm for sangría. She walked through the crowd with the distinct feeling that she was being watched. The hair on her head prickled, sending shivers down her body. Looking around the sea of happy faces, it was hard to tell if she was imagining the sensation.
Chrissie lost sight of María in the crowd. The music slowed to two guitars playing a simple ballad. The beautiful flourishes of the notes pulled Chrissie into a trance.
The singers began to sing. “Adoro la calle en que nos vimos, la noche cuando nos conocimos…”
Chrissie translated the lyrics in her head easily because the words were sung slower than they would have been spoken. I adore the street in which we saw each other, and the night when we met… “How beautiful.”
Chrissie spun around to stare her Romeo in the eye—and he was not at all what Marla predicted.
Chapter 3
Seven months and two weeks later…
His heart would never be the same. It was oozing and bleeding with daily reminders of her. The loneliness in his life was like painful salt being rubbed in constantly. Of course, he was the one who let her go back to the states.
It was for her own safety.
To be around him was too dangerous, especially now with the cartel breathing down his neck—they’d already shot him once. He wasn’t too fond of that. They were killers, without any mercy left in their beings—especially Franco.
The red numbers on his alarm clock taunted him. Four a.m. and still not asleep? You’ll never catch any shut-eye at this rate.
His cell phone nearly vibrated off the nightstand. He slid his finger across the touch screen and answered. “Hello?”
“She doesn’t have much time left. She’s nearly dead.” Arturo’s Spanish/ancient Indian dialect impatiently raced through the other side of the phone. “I think one of Franco’s men may be watching her too.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve sat on her roof for the last two nights watching the house—it’s being cased. I think the guy is Hispanic. They’ve found her.”
“Bring her back. I’ll send the jet.”
“How do you want it done, Señor?”
“I don’t care. Go through her window and kidnap her if you have to. Just bring her back.” Brant ran his hand through his hair.
He was definitely not going back to sleep now.
When María awoke, he would have her prepare a room for the woman he loved. She would probably want the small room at the end of the west wing. Even though he would prefer to have her right next to him in his bed, his room was too big and fancy for her tastes.
Brant dialed his pilot.
“Fire up the jet. You’re flying to Dallas ASAP.”