The Keeper

by Oz Mari G.

  “Anza’s father is a friend of my … family. I just graduated from the military academy. I’ve been away for my studies. That’s why Anza and I never met. Her dad asked me to convince her to come home. They didn’t want to send anyone they don’t trust.”

  He didn’t create that brief explanation on the spot. It was part of his training to cover all kinds of situations. He had thought about this scenario before, except in his head, he was saying this practised statement to Anza.

  “I gather Anza doesn’t know yet who you are, and you don’t want her to know…” Mrs. Bassig guessed correctly. Her objection to his strategy was plain in her voice. “So, what is your plan?”

  “I want to ensure her safety while she’s here and convince her of the merits of going home. She’d be more receptive to a neutral viewpoint. If she finds out who I am, that I’m part of the family, she’ll put a wall between us. She’ll dig her heels in, out of stubbornness.” The reasoning was sound, and true. That had always been their concern about Anza.

  Mrs. Bassig's indecisive stance softened. He could see that his explanation made sense to her. Finally, she nodded and said, “Okay. I’ll keep your secret. But you can’t take care of her dressed like … that.” She gestured to the bathrobe; her own thoughts had scandalised her.

  “I was going to hang my clothes to dry and put them back on later. This was the only thing I could use for the moment. I wasn’t planning to walk around your establishment wearing this robe. I just need this for the meantime.”

  “Give me your clothes and I’ll have someone run it in the dryer.”

  Mrs. Bassig shooed him into the bathroom to get the wet clothes. He scooped them out into the damp towel and handed the entire load to her. Arms full of sodden clothing, she called something out over her shoulder, then added, “I’ll send up some hot soup in an hour … or so.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bassig.”

  He closed the door.

  Anza was still deep in sleep. He touched her forehead. Not bad. He sighed and sat down on the bed, his back against the headboard. He wondered what caused the sudden onslaught of fever. The high temperature was the body’s response to an infection. Hopefully, it was just a minor one.

  His stomach rumbled. He was hungry. They both missed lunch earlier. He also wanted to get a spare change of clothes from his room, but the need to keep Anza in sight, not to leave her alone, was stronger. He would have to be in this bathrobe until Mrs. Bassig returned with his dry clothes. Maybe Anza would sleep on until then. He didn’t want her scandalised like Mrs. Bassig.

  Now that their innkeeper knew about him, the deadline to accomplish his mission and tell Anza about himself loomed nearer. While Mrs. Bassig promised to keep his secret, she might make a mistake and slip up with Anza. He didn’t want her to find out from someone else.

  And to ensure her safety, he would make a bargain with Anza’s father. To prepare her for the eventual life that she would live outside of her family, Manuu Soledad must give her more freedom. He must allow her to meet new people, to make friends, have a boy—experience life outside of her family, even in short bursts.

  The thought of Anza being exposed to other people, other men in his absence, disturbed him.

  Anza woke up just when the soup arrived, together with the food Veren had ordered for himself. She seemed confused, wanting to get up for whatever reason. He pressed her back on the bed with gentle and persistent force until she calmed down, her eyes focused on him.

  “Are you hungry, little one?” he murmured.

  She blinked up at him, glanced at the soup tray, and swallowed.

  He smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He propped her up and spooned some into her mouth after blowing on it. She ate little, but the soup’s saltiness made her drink a lot of water. He suspected Mrs. Bassig designed it so.

  She was breathless afterwards, and dropped back to sleep like a tired child. He took the opportunity to eat. He had a hunch it would be a long night for him.

  It was a good thing her room had two beds. He wouldn’t have to suffer the small sofa or the floor.

  Hours later, Anza kicked off her covers and shifted in her sleep. Her violent movement woke him up. He approached her bed to take her temperature. Her skin was clammy. She was drenched in sweat, her hair stuck to her forehead and neck, her pillow damp. She was on her side; the lamplight showed that the back of her bathrobe was wet.

  He would have to change her into dry clothes. Since he would have to re-dress her with his eyes closed, his discarded bathrobe would be the easiest thing to change her into. With a sigh, he sat her up, her damp back supported by his chest. He kept his eyes focused on the ceiling as he peeled the bathrobe off her shoulders, one arm around her upper chest, his fist closed. He was careful not to touch her anywhere else. But glimpses of her creamy skin flashed in his line of vision.

  With his free hand, he pushed the damp robe down, and pulled the other bathrobe over her naked back. He pulled her arms through each sleeve and wrapped the front of the robe around her, securing it. She had better be well-covered if she was going to keep kicking the bed sheets off.

  That done, he pulled the damp robe from her and dropped it on the floor. He discovered her entire bed was almost soaked. She must have tossed and turned for hours. He put her on the other side of his bed, then whipped off the damp cover sheet from her bed to let it dry.

  He took his place beside her and smoothed the hair off her face, spreading it on the pillow. Feelings of tenderness suffused him as he looked at her. This slight slip of a girl, with her innocence, grit, and fighting spirit, had penetrated his defensive wall. She was like a kitten, wide-eyed and soft. One couldn’t help but melt inside while looking at her.

  For now, she was his kitten. One he needed to take care of. Anza shifted and turned towards him, then huddled to his side. Her damp hair rested on his arm. He dared not pull her close—his body heat might increase her temperature again. So, he closed his eyes to savour the inner connection, this tenuous strand of understanding that had developed between Anza and himself.

  It was precious, beautiful, fragile, and daunting.

  “Veren …”

  A gentle prod on his side woke him up. Anza’s sleepy gaze was on him as he opened his eyes. He was on his side, one arm slung over Anza’s waist. He must have moved last night, as Anza’s position was the same before he fell asleep.

  “How are you?” His voice came out in a whisper. He pushed himself on his elbows and looked down at her.

  “My throat hurts. I’m thirsty,” she replied, her voice raspy. Her hand touched her own neck.

  He stood up and got her a chilled bottle of water from the refrigerator. He helped her sit up, and she drank it fast. It drew a long exhale of relief from her. The hands that handed the bottle back to him trembled. Her breathing was short and quick, as if the action sapped all her remaining strength.

  “Better?” he asked. At her nod, he touched her cheeks and forehead. She was cool to the touch.

  “You need to eat—you’re weak.” He grasped her hand as it shook when she tried to reach for the bottled water again.

  “I’m not hungry. I’m just thirsty,” she said shakily.

  “No, let’s give you something easy to eat.” He called the front desk to order some Arroz Caldo, a chicken and rice porridge for her, and some bacon and eggs for himself.

  “Did you watch over me the entire night?” Her voice came out soft, her expression one of curiosity and concern.

  “Yes, little one, I did.” He nodded as he sat on the other bed. “I came looking for you when you didn’t show up and found you asleep, and burning hot. Don’t you remember?”

  “No.” Anza was trying to dredge her memory, but it must have come up blank. “The only thing I remember is taking a nap.”

  He pushed the limp hair off her pale face and pressed the cool, damp towel on her forehead, cheeks, and neck. Her eyes closed in bliss.

  “Do you have any injuries? Y
ou might have an infection,” She frowned in confusion at his question. “I’m trying to find out the source of your fever,” he explained.

  “No injury, but …... my throat is sore,” she replied, and swallowed. “It feels swollen, too.”

  He tipped her face up by the chin. “Say ahh.”

  She opened her mouth wide as he peered down her throat. Her tonsils were red and inflamed.

  “Okay. Let’s see if the swelling goes down within the day.” It didn’t look too bad. He was relieved. The island wasn’t equipped for serious medical cases.

  “Veren …” she called as he stood up to go to the bathroom.

  He looked back and waited for the rest of her statement. “Yes, little one?” he prompted.

  “You don’t have to pay for my fee, since I can’t accompany you on your trip today,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t be silly. You’re keeping me company.”

  “No, you’re nursing me. There’s no need to charge you for the privilege,” she said. Her attempt at humour made him smile. She was on her way to recovery.

  “Let’s discuss that later, little one—when you’re strong enough to argue with me.”

  There was a knock on the door. Their food had arrived. He strode to the door and took the food tray in. “For now, you and I will eat.”

  Anza insisted on eating by herself. Despite her pronouncement on her disinterest in the food, she almost finished the porridge. This pleased him. As expected, she got sleepy after the meal. He was reading a book while Anza rested when his phone rang.

  Edrigu was calling.

  “Good morning, Sir.” His mind debated with his heart whether to tell Edrigu about Anza being sick.

  “How’s everything, Veren? I’m due to call Manuu in half an hour, so I need an update from you,” he said.

  He understood Edrigu was asking not just for the truth of the status of his mission, but he also wanted a plausible statement they could give to Manuu.

  He stepped out of Anza’s room for privacy. “I have established a rapport, Sir. But I’m not yet confident that I can influence her enough to make her change her mind.”

  This was an accurate statement. Anza’s reason for leaving was rooted deep, and he didn’t think he would have enough influence on her decision.

  “Is there anything you need to hasten the process? Manuu is worried and restless,” Edrigu said.

  “Yes, I think there is. I think it might be the only thing that would convince Anza to return and ensure she won’t run away again. I need a commitment from him, Sir.” He needed Edrigu to champion his cause, Anza’s cause, to ensure her safety.

  “What kind of commitment?” Edrigu sounded intrigued.

  “He needs to promise to allow Anza to make friends with humans, to establish long-term friendships and … relationships,” he said. There was silence on the other line. “Sir?” he prompted.

  “Is that what Anza wants?” Edrigu asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” he sighed. “She feels out of place in her own family, being the only Erdia among them. She can’t take part in any of the things they do as Vis. Even so, her father treats her like a Vis. They all do.”

  He had to sway Edrigu to this cause. “She’s not at all like us. She doesn’t want to live her brief life unanchored, as our kind does. We have the longevity to do this, she does not. She does not want to waste her short lifespan living the Vis life when she doesn’t have the years to sustain it.”

  “I see …” Edrigu said.

  Those two words carried so much understanding, it made his heart pound.

  “Can you help me, Sir?” He heard the plea in his own voice. “I don’t think Mr. Soledad will listen to someone like me, but he will with you.”

  “Veren, Anza is sixteen. In Vis years, she’s practically a baby. She is his father’s only child, daughter of his great love, the centre of his life. Therefore, he is understandably over-protective. While I see your point, a father’s love is something we cannot question,” Edrigu said, his tone gentle.

  “Sir, it is the only thing that would convince her to come home, and stay home. Without that promise, Anza might just run away again. I believe Mr. Soledad is due for Transit next year. Anza might just do it again then. And this time, she might get lucky enough to disappear completely. It’s the only way to keep her safe.” The desperation in his voice was obvious to his own ears.

  “Okay, that’s a good argument. I will do my best to persuade Manuu to give her that.” Edrigu sounded convinced.

  An enormous rush of gratitude flooded his heart. “Thank you, Sir!” He could breathe easier now. Anza would be safe when he’d return to his training. He could focus on the rest of his life goals and not worry about her while away.

  “So, what update can I tell Manuu?” Edrigu asked.

  “You can tell him I have covered leads in Naidi and Vayang, and I have not found her there. I’m going to Valugan next,” he said. This was half true. Those were the locations that he intended to visit with Anza.

  “Okay. That will work. I don’t expect him to say yes immediately, but I will convince him of the merits of your plan,” Edrigu said. “I’ll call you in a day or so. Earlier if I succeed with Manuu on my first try.”

  Waves of confusing emotions washed over him when he realised that if Edrigu secured Manuu Soledad’s commitment tomorrow, he could reveal himself to Anza and convince her to go home. And, if she agreed, perhaps in two days they would part ways.

  My time with her would end.

  I should be glad.

  I should be happy that I’m so close to completing my mission.

  Instead, he felt deflated.

  Anza woke up in the dim lamplight.

  Did I sleep all day?

  She glanced at the other bed and saw Veren asleep, an opened book lying face down beside him. He looked peaceful and boyish.

  This must be what he looked like before the troubles he took upon his shoulders weighed on him. At twenty-three, he struck her as more serious than he should be. Despite his light-hearted manner, there was something grave that underpinned his actions.

  She stretched out and her tight muscles protested. She had been abed for far too long and needed a shower. It propelled her to go to the bathroom. After a short, cool rinse, she put on the same bathrobe she wore earlier. The feeling of cleanliness and the scent that lingered in the bathrobe gave her a sense of well-being. She sniffed at the robe, trying to remember where she had smelled it before.

  She padded out to the verandah and sat on a cushioned rattan lounger. The cool sunset breeze soothed her. The fresh and fragrant scent of sea, jasmine, wet grass, and some unfamiliar vegetation perfumed the air. Day birds had changed shift with their nocturnal kin, their call now dominated the night air. The cricket chirps accompanied their song.

  She sat curled up and hugged her knees close, enveloped by the comforting darkness. The first week of her journey for independence had been eventful. Fate seemed determined to show her, at first instance, what it would be like on her own. If Veren didn’t show up, she would have been sick alone, in a bed space, with no one to help her.

  Her life wasn’t in danger, but if something direr had occurred, it would devastate her father. If he never ever found her, or her body, he would suffer for a long time not knowing what became of her. Her impulsive action to run away was irresponsible, and selfish. She knew that she needed to rectify it, that she must relieve her parents’ anxiety about her health and safety.

  The door behind her slid open with a thud, startling her. A frantic Veren followed. His eyes were wild and furious.

  “What the hell, Anza!”

  Veren loomed over her. His body vibrated with menacing energy. She looked up at him, confused by the anger on his face.

  “What did I do?”

  “I woke up, and you were gone. You … I looked all over for you … I thought …”

  “I’m sorry, I wanted some air. I didn’t realise you would worry …”

  He stood loo
king down at her for a while, fists clenched. He exhaled, and the tension bled out of him. With a sigh, he tapped her leg to make her scoot over so he would have room to sit down. She did. Veren dropped beside her.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” His tone was calm. The light from the bedroom no longer illuminated his face, darkness hiding his expression from her.

  “You were sleeping. You needed your rest too.” She tucked her legs under herself to hide her toes. The night air had turned cold.

  Veren scooped her into his lap. One hand covered her bare feet. The heat from it warmed her toes. She went rigid for a moment, but soon settled into him. She curled into his chest and laid her head at the curve of his neck. This felt right, being cradled in his arms. It was safety, comfort, affection all rolled into one warm cocoon.

  Ahh. The smell is Veren. He wore this before I did.

  This realisation made her heart hum. It still had that elusive whiff of something familiar yet unknown embedded in the robe, but she was too content at the moment to delve deeper into her memory bank.

  “You scared me, little one,” he murmured.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She inhaled deeply. With this breath, a decision solidified within her, borne out of the insight that came to her tonight. “I seem to have a habit of unintentionally scaring the people who care about me.”

  Veren’s body tensed. She could sense his eyes on her.

  “Did you come to an epiphany during your fever?” he asked.

  That made her smile. “Not quite an epiphany. Just a realisation that I’ve been selfish. I didn’t think about how much my father and my family would worry about me when I left like that.”

  “Wait—does this mean that you’ve changed your mind about your plan? To be independent and live away from them, I mean.”

  There was a hitch in his voice that she didn’t quite understand, but she let it go.

  “Not quite. I still want to achieve independence. But I need to amend my methods, so I won’t worry my parents unnecessarily. I guess they still see me as a child.”