Guardian of the Fountain

by Jennifer Bryce

  The sun began to sink, revealing soft pinks and sherbet oranges in the evening sky. Strands of large light bulbs zigzagged across from one side of the street to the other, lighting the boardwalks as the shoppers continued to shop.

  Chrissie remembered that her old, one-bedroom apartment where she used to live with Marla was just two blocks away.

  Who was renting that spot now? If I remember right, the clinic was all the way down to the end of the main street. Maybe Arturo would let me go visit all my old friends there.

  For the first time, she felt back to normal, like she had never even been sick and left this beautiful little village deathly ill

  Euphoria bubbled up inside Chrissie, and she felt like skipping down the cracked sidewalk in the cool of the evening. She wanted to take full advantage of the beauty of the village in her favorite time of day, dusk.

  People sat on their terraces above, enjoying the evening as well. The buildings looked outdated by fifty years, but a vintage feel added to the ambiance of Chrissie’s surroundings. She loved what she could remember of the village and its occupants. It was comforting to have familiar surroundings. Even the smells of the churros baking in the café brought back the feelings of nostalgia,

  An acoustic guitar began to play. The older gentleman’s agile fingers strummed as he sung a Spanish song that Chrissie recognized as “Adorro.” The song pricked her heart. Somehow, she felt it had meaning to her. She sat down on the bench to enjoy the music. His white cotton shirt contrasted against his dark cocoa skin. She stared at the old man almost in a trance. Every finger flew easily to pluck its strings. He sang the song like he was the one who had written it.

  People dropped coins into his open guitar case as they passed by. Chrissie was the only one who stopped and listened, paying a silent but true tribute to the talented musician.

  This man probably deserves more than I can afford.

  She felt someone sit down beside her and thought it was Arturo. She turned and looked to see who was sitting to her left. It was not Arturo.

  * * *

  Brant trailed the Datsun from the mansion into town. He tried to keep out of sight as he watched Chrissie shop. Although he felt somewhat like a stalker, he didn’t want her out of his sight. He couldn’t afford to lose her again. To him, she looked like a bag of bones. As emaciated as she was, Brant wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her around town while she shopped. To be able to be close to her—that would be heaven.

  He peered around the corner of the alley to watch Chrissie sit to listen to the old musician play. Arturo nonchalantly came and stood close to Brant’s hiding spot without giving him away.

  Brant kept his eyes trained on Chrissie. “How is she?”

  “She’s okay.” Arturo shrugged. “She got a little winded a few moments ago. Hasta ahora, bien.”

  Brant breathed a sigh of relief. “At least she is awake and standing.”

  “She’s the same feisty thing that we all know and love, just slightly diluido.” Arturo chuckled. “You should have seen her face when I asked her to put the blindfold on.”

  “I think I’m going to go over there and get a closer look for myself. Maybe seeing me will bring back some memories.” Brant straightened his shirt and smoothed down his hair before he walked around the corner and across the street toward Chrissie.

  She looked like she was stuck in a daydream when Brant sat next to her. “I love this song, don’t you?”

  Chrissie’s brilliant blue eyes flashed up at him instantly. His heart melted.

  I love her.

  Chapter 8

  “I love this song, don’t you?” a handsome stranger asked, his deep British voice making Chrissie’s heart skip with pleasure. At any moment, Chrissie expected him to say “Bond, James Bond.”

  “Yes, it sounds so familiar.” Chrissie stared at him, confused, as she began to take in the features of the man sitting next to her. He was tall—not in a lanky way, but rather broad-shouldered and solid. His chiseled, muscular form would make Trey look like a wimp. If she had a black-and-white photo of him, it would rival anything in GQ.

  Did men as handsome as this exist outside her dreams? He was even talking to her. Chrissie thought she should pinch herself. She wished she looked the way she used to. She was acutely aware of her hair wrapped up in a scarf and the huge bags under her eyes.

  She guessed him to be close to thirty. He looked like he spent most of his day in the sun, judging by the darkness of his tan. His light brown hair confirmed that he was definitely not a native. He looked like a handsome American who could even pass as someone from Hollywood, but fit in here too.

  “That’s funny. Music does strange things to our memory. It reminds us of feelings, smells, people, and even memories.” He stood and offered his hand to her. “Would you like to dance?”

  She had the sensation of doing this same thing what seemed eons ago. So this must be what a déjà vu moment feels like.

  Chrissie looked around for Arturo to see if he was still near. He was across the street, leaning against a wall and smoking his pipe. He smiled and waved. Maybe it was okay to dance with this stranger, Arturo didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

  “Sounds like fun.” She smiled as she accepted his hand. If a handsome man asked her to dance, of course she’d say yes. She was no dummy. She wished she could send a picture of this to Trey.

  The stranger told the musician in perfectly fluent Spanish to play the song one more time as they began a simple tango. Chrissie fell into the steps like her muscles remembered how to dance it. It struck her as odd that it felt natural to her.

  “You dance very well.” He pulled Chrissie tight against him, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter.

  He can hold me closer anytime!

  It had been so long since she’d had any human interaction other than with her parents or doctors, a man as attractive as this stranger had her slobbering all over herself.

  “Thank you. I took dance classes when I was three,” Chrissie nervously answered. “Though, I don’t think ballet is anywhere close to the tango. I think I might have done it in college in my ballroom dance class briefly.” Her cheeks heated under his stare. Normally, she wasn’t a rambler, but he was also so above average.

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never danced ballet.” The friendly banter flowed easily. “But I’m sure I would look absolutely stunning in tights.”

  “You’re just so darn cute and easy to talk to.” He must be taken or gay. “May I ask the name of the man I’m dancing with?” Chrissie hooked her right leg over his in a common tango hook move.

  “Brant.”

  “Brant? Brant what?”

  “Brant Winston.” He dipped Chrissie back slowly. “Now it’s your turn to tell me yours.”

  “Chrysanthemum Love Stevens.” Her shoulders pushed back with mock pride.

  “Wicked. That’s a mouthful. How did your parents come up with a name like that?” Brant’s smooth movements made Chrissie feel like she was a good dancer too.

  “It’s my mom’s favorite flower, and then she came across a children’s book about a little mouse named Chrysanthemum and couldn’t shake it out of her head. The rest is history.” Her mother was a happy memory.

  At that moment, Chrissie wished her mom were here. She would love the green vegetation, and she’d never been outside of the U.S.

  “The tiny pink blossoms are my favorite variety,” Brant commented.

  “You know a little bit about chrysanthemums? Not very many people take interest in flowers.”

  “I know quite a bit about horticulture.” Brant slowly spun Chrissie.

  “I bet that’s a real hit with your girlfriend.” Chrissie said cautiously, wanting to find out if he was on the market.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  The song ended too soon for Chrissie. She wanted to dance the rest of the night in Brant’s arms.

  I still don’t know if he’s taken. My mom would be asking r
ight off the bat for that information.

  “Thank you for the pleasure of the dance, Miss Chrysanthemum Love Stevens,” he breathed as his nose almost touched hers.

  “No, the pleasure is all mine.” Chrissie curtsied deeply, and as she stood, her surroundings wobbled. “Whoa.” She held her fingers to her temples and shook her head.

  Brant was at her side, stabilizing her elbow, “Are you all right? Too many spins on the boardwalk? You look a bit knackered.”

  “Nope.” Chrissie quickly recovered. “I’m great,” she lied.

  I can’t have him thinking I’m weak sauce. I’m a Texan, for goodness’ sakes!

  “I think I’m just adjusting to the altitude. That’s all.”

  Chrissie saw Brant shoot a quick glance at Arturo. Arturo trotted across the cobblestone street, dumping his pipe ashes on the ground and then stuffing the pipe in his shirt pocket.

  Does he know Arturo? They spoke without even saying one word by just exchanging a glance.

  At Chrissie’s side, Arturo placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Time for dinner. I’m afraid María will have our necks if we aren’t home on time, and maybe after, you’ll have another dip in the water.” Arturo glanced over at her warily. “Maybe too much, too soon.”

  “Thank you again for the dance, Brant. It was lovely meeting you,” Chrissie said over her shoulder as she left with Arturo.

  She watched him briefly. A sad, pained look burdened his face. He turned and opened his billfold, dropping a stack of cash into the guitar case. The aging musician shook Brant’s hand gratefully, before Brant walked away, leaving Chrissie to wonder why he’d appeared out of nowhere and if she would ever see him again. The romantic interlude they’d shared a few moments ago had raised more questions than answers.

  Arturo led her to the Datsun parked on the side of the street and helped her in. “Did you have a nice outing?”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you.” She watched the familiar village buildings go by just outside her window. “Who is Brant Winston?”

  Arturo nervously shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “He is sort of like the mayor of our village, if we had one. A nice, respectable man.”

  “Have I met him before?”

  “Sí, pero. I think it is a part of your missing memory.”

  “Well, they don’t make very many men as good-looking as he is.” Chrissie pulled on her blindfold as they left the village limits.

  “I guess not, but I only have eyes for María.” He chuckled.

  “Do you think I’ll see him again?”

  “Chrissie, why are you asking me so many questions about Señor Winston? Did you find yourself a new novio?”

  “Oh, a girl can dream, can’t she?” she dramatically sighed. Secretly, she wouldn’t mind one bit if he was her novio. “What a hottie!” She fanned herself. She was amazed she felt well enough to have any romantic stirrings. “I haven’t been so lucky in the dating department. Maybe here in a small village, the pickings are slimmer for him, and I have a better chance. Is he single?”

  “You should ask Señor Winston that question. This feels like a chat you should have with a girlfriend or something. Not an old man.”

  If her mom were here, she’d be sharing all this girl talk with her, or even her best friend, Marla. “You are the only one available.” She laid her head back and sighed. “He is dreamy.” Chrissie laughed, visualizing Arturo’s discomfort with the conversation. “Besides, I’ve promoted you to bestie status. So henceforth, I will be sharing all my secrets.”

  “Ay-yi-yi,” he lamented. “If María heard what you just said, I would never hear the end of it.”

  “Come on, Arturo—I only have you and María to talk to. Go with it. It might involve lots of ice cream.” Even though Chrissie was blindfolded, she could tell by the sound of his chuckle that he was slightly amused. “I should call my mom tonight and tell her I’m okay. She’ll want to know all the details. I’m sure she’s waiting by the phone.”

  “At least you have a little color in your cheeks again, mija.”

  * * *

  Brant slowly drove his truck up the curvy road. He had spent a few glorious moments with Chrissie. She looked shockingly underweight, and something was still a little off in her health. The water should have cured her, but it hadn’t. Why? Although, she did look leaps and bounds better than she had when Arturo brought her home.

  He needed to look on the bright side … at least she was still alive.

  Her Texan accent had him undone from the moment she spoke. He nearly told her everything. No, that wouldn’t be a wise choice.

  Brant had to hurry home to beat Arturo and Chrissie back to the house. He was only five minutes ahead of them. It was hard keeping a secret from her. More than anything, he wanted to tell her that everything would be okay. If only he could be sure of that.

  Chapter 9

  “María!” Arturo shouted from the door. “Where’s my comida, mujer?” He laughed as he yelled out the last part like a kid who was about to be scolded. Banging in the kitchen commenced, with a few Spanish expletives coming from María.

  Chrissie walked into the kitchen. In its own right, this room was impressive, with its current commercial-style kitchen and granite countertops, with copper pots hanging from the ceiling. Arturo plopped himself on a kitchen chair and propped his boots on the wooden table. Burdened down with a large tray of food, María came in, set it down on the table, and whipped a wooden spoon out of her apron pocket to smack Arturo’s legs. Chrissie’s eyes widened at the exchange. Arturo only laughed and rubbed his sore leg.

  She had never seen such carrying on shared between a married couple. Her parents’ relationship was always pleasant—at least when they were around her. Even in her relationship with Trey, he never teased or played. He was always on his phone texting or talking about himself. She remembered before she got sick Arturo and María frequently bantering with each other. María was always so bossy, and Arturo did things just to tease her and get under her skin. But they obviously loved each other, by the way they looked at each other and by the way Arturo held María’s hand on their way out for the night.

  “He does this every noche.” María humphed. She set out three plates—one each for her, Arturo, and Chrissie, leaving one plate on the large tray. “This is for the Guardian. He said he would be having dinner in his room.”

  “Fine. Leave us. At least we can eat in peace.” Arturo teased and slapped María’s rump. María bumped the back of his head with her elbow on her way out of the room with the master’s tray. “Yes, but I’ll be back.”

  “Let’s eat!” Arturo dug into his pulled pork and sauce over rice, pushing it up onto his fork with chunks of fresh-baked pan.

  Chrissie looked at her plate like a dog would when it spotted a fresh bone.

  I am starving.

  She began to eat with just as much gusto as Arturo. Before María made it back, both Arturo and Chrissie had licked their plates clean, literally.

  Arturo pushed his chair away from the table and leaned back. “And that is how it is done.” With his tummy bulging slightly over his belt, he looked a little overstuffed, but satisfied nonetheless.

  Chrissie continued on to the fruit salad and another slice of bread, stuffing her face because her appetite hadn’t been satisfied. Arturo cocked an eyebrow at the sight. “Hungry?”

  “Starving, actually. This is so good. I haven’t been able to eat this much in my entire life! I think I’m making up for lost time. What’s in that bath water, anyway? It’s amazing! Except for that little dizzy spell, I feel almost completely cured,” she rattled on at a rapid pace her cheeks stuffed with food like a chipmunk.

  “Slow down. You’ll choke for sure and I’ll have to tell María it was her cooking that killed you.” Arturo set his chair back down and looked Chrissie in the eye, “I don’t think you are healed yet. In fact, far from it. I think the bath will only act like a Band-Aid. It will buy us some time to find out what exactly is w
rong and how to solve it. I have a good idea what it is, but I don’t know the antidote yet.”

  “Antidote?” Chrissie added another question to her growing stack. “Have I been poisoned?”

  “Sí, I think so. I don’t know by who or what. So it is importante that you stay so we can bathe you in the healing waters until we can find you a cure.” Arturo stood up and stretched. “Buenas noches, Chrissie.”

  “Good night, Arturo.” Chrissie pushed her plate away, deciding it would be better to stop now than to have dinner make a reappearance if she ate too much. She cleared the table and took all the dishes to the sink to soak in the soapy water alongside María’s cooking pans.

  Curiosity burned in her as she wandered the halls of the mansion. She found a library just off the main plaza but every door on the south wing on the second floor was locked, the same side where she had briefly seen the man out of the corner of her eye. Just more mysteries piled up.

  On the way back from dinner, a soft light glowed from the door of her room at the northwest corner of the mansion. A white cotton nightgown lay smoothed out on top of her bed, with a single candle flickering on the dresser. She walked to the room with the large pool in it and found that it was ready for her. All of María’s personal touches of rose petals, oils, soaps, and a large terry cloth robe awaited her there. After a long, healing soak, she went to her room and dressed in her nightgown. The clean sheets felt nice and cool as she slipped in between them and settled into the comfortable bed. She pulled out the laptop her mother had packed for her. She knew her mother must be going crazy with worry. She began tapping out a short email.

  Mom,

  I arrived safely. They wasted no time getting to work. I’m staying in the most beautiful mansion. You should see their swimming pool that they use for a bathtub! It was the most amazing soak I’ve ever had.

  I felt so much better today that Arturo took me into the village for a visit. Isn’t that fantastic? Something must be working. I even have an appetite.