Can't Buy Me Love

by Summer Kinard

  Before she could smile back, he pulled her to him snugly and kissed her lips again, full and soft, then harder and more urgently. Vanessa kissed him back, clinging to his shoulder, his cheek, his chest. They closed their eyes for deeper kisses and opened them to gaze at one another for softer moments. Vanessa felt the skin on her chin chafe from his unshaved morning face, but she liked the sensation. Heat rose in her body like it never had before, fuller but without the sense of emptiness. She clung to his chest and found that she had wrapped her jean-clad leg over Javier’s without even noticing. He must have noticed, because he broke off the kiss.

  Javier pulled her close to him and pressed her face against his neck. They hugged one another tightly, holding their bodies against one another as their chests heaved. Javier stroked her shoulder with the fingertips of the arm she was lying in. Vanessa closed her eyes and breathed into his touch. She wanted to kiss him again, but she did not want to push him beyond what he could bear.

  “I love the feel of your lips on mine,” she said as a compromise.

  Javier hummed in assent, a sexy low rumble that Vanessa felt reverberate in her own chest.

  “Do you think you could handle one more kiss before we have to get up?”

  In answer, Javier moved his body so that their faces were even. He looked into her eyes and placed his closed lips on hers. He moved the tip of his tongue lightly along the crevice of her mouth just once, then slowly pulled away. He still had his hand behind her neck when he spoke quietly, “I think you can tell how I feel for you. I don’t want to disrespect you or myself.” He pulled her forward and kissed her forehead, then returned his gaze to her eyes. “I care too much about you, Vanessa, to treat intimacy as something we fall into just because of convenience.” Javier leaned forward so that he spoke directly into her ear. “When we make love,” he said softly in a clear voice thick with emotion, “I want you to know I mean it.”

  Vanessa nodded, overwhelmed. “Right. Then I suppose it’s time I offered you breakfast.”

  Javier got up and held out his hand to help Vanessa off of the couch. He kissed her gently once more on the mouth and released her. Vanessa could feel his eyes on her as she stretched and walked toward the kitchen. She told him where he could find the bathroom and busied herself with the work of morning. She picked up their half-full mugs from the night before to take them to the sink, smiling at the new memories of comfort mingled with the old in Granny’s signature drink.

  When Javier returned to the dining area, the hair along the edges of his face was damp and he smelled minty fresh. “I used the unopened toothbrush that was in your drawer. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Vanessa looked up from slicing fruit. “But I had better make a trip in there myself now. Could you set this tray on the table? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  “Of course,” Javier smiled and took the tray Vanessa held out to him. On it she had arranged two small bowls of washed and sliced fruit, a lump of goat cheese, four slices of gouda, and buttered baguette toast. A few silver utensils were piled to one side on top of small plates and colorful cloth napkins.

  Javier offered Vanessa a cup of tea when she returned to the dining area. She tasted it. “Cream and honey. How did you know?” Vanessa smiled and sat.

  “I guessed. I saw sugar as well, but I suspected you would like honey better.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It takes longer, but it’s better for you and tastes sweeter.” A glance passed between them.

  They were silent for a few minutes while they served themselves from the tray. Then Javier closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  “Praying?” Vanessa asked.

  “Being thankful.” He grasped her hand for a moment and looked into her eyes.

  Vanessa speared a piece of star fruit on her fork and nibbled. “This is good!” she sounded surprised.

  “You’ve never tried it?”

  “I confess that I bought it because it was pretty. Yesterday I was craving beauty. Plums and cherries are my favorites, so I had to have those. I like papaya and passion fruit, too. But the star fruit I brought home with me because it looked nice.”

  “Kind of like me?” Javier smiled. “It’s a good thing for you that you have a discerning eye.”

  Vanessa watched Javier eat fruit until she heard him laugh.

  “What is it?”

  “You were staring at my lips.”

  “I’m that obvious?” Vanessa bit into her toast, which she studied intently to try to keep her mind off of kissing Javier.

  “You are in good company,” Javier whispered throatily, clasping her hand.

  He stood and pulled her to him, wrapping his hands around her waist and head. He bent and kissed her warmly, the taste of plums and honey on his lips and tongue. Vanessa moaned and shivered in delight. She kissed him back, holding him close. She was lost in the moment again, but not like she had been with previous lovers. The old ache of shame was gone, and the sense of freedom went to her head. For the first time in her life, she rushed along on wave after wave of happiness suspecting that it did not have to end, that there was no end to this kind of love.

  Javier broke off the kiss and cleared his throat. “Vanessa, I——”he swallowed and sighed, gazing at her with eyes hooded with desire, “um, perhaps we should finish this excellent breakfast.” He sat down, but held her fingertips in his while he ate with his left hand.

  Vanessa willed herself not to stare at Javier’s lips again. What was it she had told Percy and Marian? She wanted to be present. Present in her body, with a heart pounding so hard that she could feel her pulse in the silver fork in her hand. She seized the gift of the immediate and held up the fork.

  “I collect these,” she said, hopefully. “Not just forks, but any type of old silverware. I buy hodgepodge pieces at thrift stores and resale shops. I started when I was twelve. Granny bought me a hope chest for Christmas that year, and I was determined to fill it with beautiful things.”

  “You have a hope chest?” Javier smiled, relieved at the change of subject. “May I see it?”

  “Sure. It’s, um, in the bedroom. Maybe we could bring it out here where the light is better.”

  “Yes,” Javier agreed, an amused expression lighting his face. Vanessa suspected he knew that she simply did not trust them to keep apart with a bed so near.

  They set the heavy cedar chest in the middle of the room, and Vanessa laid the lid open. She pulled out a few rolls of silver wrapped in flannel cloths and placed them on the coffee table. The rolls were homemade, the cloth brightly patterned with polka dots, teapots, and bicycles.

  “This is more of the silver; just the best pieces. I use a lot of my collection for everyday.” Vanessa pulled out a stack of colorfully patterned cloths and shook one out. “Oh! And these are my aprons. I’m making a couple more with the fabric on the table.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Six. But I want to have ten or so, eventually.”

  “Why so many?” Javier asked, using his pinky to trace the pattern on the apron Vanessa had unfolded.

  “I guess I always had this dream of a large group being in the kitchen together, me and my husband and children and our friends. It’s what I think about when I make aprons. I guess that’s why I like sewing them so much. Maybe it’s silly.”

  “How could it be silly, Vanessa? This is a hope chest, and you are preparing for what you hope will come to pass,” Javier spoke quietly and looked at Vanessa with such intensity that she had to look away to avoid kissing him again. She lifted several piles of brightly colored garments and set them on the coffee table. Javier could not tell what they were, but he liked the orange, bright blue, red, green, hot pink, yellow, and dark brown that ran through the palette. “Such lovely colors. What are those?” he asked when Vanessa did not explain them.

  “Baby clothes,” Vanessa said, swallowing. “And the rest of the trunk is filled with ruby depression glass and table cloths.” Vanessa be
gan to set the baby clothes back inside the chest quickly. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea for a distraction.”

  “I’m glad you showed me. Your hopes are beautiful, Vanessa.”

  “Javier.” It was a plea. He knelt next to her and brushed his hand along the side of her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this.”

  “I want to hear,” Javier looked at her. He was perfectly still, waiting.

  “I have been making baby clothes on and off since I was eighteen, tucking my favorites in this chest and giving others away.” She looked at Javier and reached her hand toward his face. She held her breath and traced the smile lines around his eyes. “Just now, all I could think was that I need to expand my palette when I make more. I should include light teal to match the babies’ eyes.”

  Her words pulsed between them as they crouched by the open chest. Javier moved first. He picked up a tiny shirt from the top of the pile of clothing and held it up by Vanessa’s face.

  “Perhaps the babies will be lucky. Perhaps they will take after their mother.”

  “Thank you,” Vanessa choked out. Her face burned with embarrassment for having exposed herself so deeply. Keeping her head down, she tucked the little tops back into the hope chest, just so. Javier did not speak, but he remained beside her on the floor. He handed her the rolls of silverware and watched her intently as she tenderly smoothed the aprons into their place and closed the lid.

  “Vanessa,” Javier began.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Vanessa cut him off.

  “Vanessa, I would like——”

  “Really, Javier, it’s okay. I’m sorry I said something so…so presumptuous,” she sighed and fretted with her hair.

  “Vanessa,” Javier leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Please. Let me say this. I would like for you to meet my parents.” When Vanessa was silent, he continued, “They will be in town the night of the Beans and Spice launch party. Might I introduce them to you then?”

  “I would like that,” Vanessa smiled, happily surprised. She stood, “Help me carry this back?”

  “Of course.”

  When they got back to the dining table, Vanessa drank the cold dregs of her tea. She raised her mug and waggled it, trying to talk about anything other than wanting to have Javier’s babies. “Another cup before you have to go?”

  “Oh,” Javier said.

  “You mean you don’t have to go?” Vanessa asked, a bit too eagerly.

  “I have the morning free. I work nights on Thursdays for the next month.”

  Vanessa set down her cup, grinned and moved toward him, but caught herself and stepped back toward the kitchen. “Javier, I know that as Mary said, you ‘don’t put out.’ The fact is, I’m trying not to rush things on that front, either,” she smiled impishly. “But if I have to stay in this room with you with no particular plan for another hour, or ten minutes, if I’m honest, I can guarantee you I will only be thinking about one thing.”

  “Then may I suggest,” Javier offered, taking her hands in his and twining their fingers together, “that we take a walk in Duke Gardens?”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  The day was already hot when they arrived, but the garden was some ten degrees cooler than the air outside Vanessa’s apartment. They walked down the main path from the parking lot toward the large crane fountain, fingers interlaced. Vanessa gave herself over to matching Javier’s pace, enjoying the view of his strong arms rippling as they swung.

  “Where to?” he asked when they had reached the fountain.

  “Somewhere with shade so we don’t get too warm,” Vanessa answered. Her mind darted to all of the secluded benches tucked under trees where they might be alone, but she pushed those thoughts aside. Alone meant kissing, and kissing meant indecent exposure if they were left alone too long. “How about the oriental garden? There’s shade but not too much privacy.”

  They took the path toward the right. Walking in the same direction cleared Vanessa’s mind a little, and she felt up to talking.

  “You said your parents were coming to town. Where do they live?”

  “Charlotte. Papi immigrated in the seventies as a med student. He’s an orthopedic surgeon, still practicing. When he’s home, he spends a lot of time in his garden. They have a huge yard full of plants that Papi tends. Mami was born in Atlanta to Costa Rican immigrants. She mostly volunteers now that we kids are grown. She’s an amazing grant writer and sits on the boards of several non-profits, and she sews. I think you will like each other.”

  “You have siblings?”

  “I have a brother, Samuel; the one who snores. He lives in Colorado. Sam is a cardiologist specializing in geriatrics.”

  “I sense a medical theme.”

  “Growing up, Papi inspired us. He was always talking about his work, not just the medicine, but about the dignity of the human body and the miracle of healing. I guess we took it to heart.”

  “Especially in Samuel’s case.”

  Javier smiled.

  They walked to the bench on the edge of the bamboo grove and found the places where couples had carved their initials.

  “How about your family? Are they all still across the Mississippi?”

  “Yes, a fact for which I am daily grateful.” Vanessa looked up at Javier cautiously before she continued, “My mother had me when she was a teenager, and my dad died when I was a teenager. He got drunk and drove into a tree. I still keep in touch with some of my aunts and cousins, especially Aunt Clotilde, tribe unto herself,” she paused for a half smile, “but my mom doesn’t really call unless she has some drama to report wherein she portrays herself as savior.” Vanessa knit her brows, trying to find the true and loving words to talk about her broken mother. “I’m not angry with her. She is just trying to find a way to see herself in a good light. But I don’t really have much of a relationship with her. I wish I could just paint her a picture that showed her that she’s lovable without all the melodrama, but she won’t hear it,” Vanessa sighed, and her eyes grew warmer. “Granny was my real home.”

  “That’s an intriguing description.”

  “My parents partied a lot and left me with her. She taught me so much about life and loving, how to hold on and let go and bake and mourn and sew and sing. Granny was a deaconess at St. Patrick’s. Even God I learned from her. I sound so Southern right now, I know. But it’s true. Ever since Granny died, I have felt homeless.”

  “And church? Is that part of your life?”

  “I stopped going about three months after she died. Everything about the divine that seemed real to me had its place in Granny’s house. It was in the food and water there. Faith just felt flat when she was gone. I carried it like a deflated balloon for awhile, more like a memento of a happier time. But then I just tucked it away.”

  “Like your hope chest.”

  “I suppose so.” Vanessa tossed a few dried leaves just above a small waterfall and watched them tumble in the stream. “Until this morning I had not opened that chest for two years.”

  “I’m glad I was there.” Javier turned his body so that he and Vanessa faced one another, perpendicular to the stream. He turned his palms so that they faced Vanessa’s and laced their fingers. “This would make a great photo,” he smiled. “Especially if…” he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

  They were interrupted by noisy footsteps charging down the path above them.

  “Don’t let me stop you,” Gabi beamed, bursting into the small clearing where they stood. “I was going to ask Nessa if she got the medal, but I can see it’s already working.”

  “Gabi!” Vanessa beamed. “I forgot you work on Thursdays.” She reluctantly withdrew one arm from Javier’s embrace and hugged her friend.

  “Gabriel,” Javier greeted. “I didn’t know you were a gardener.”

  “Gardener by day, luchadora by night. Sí, but I don’t spread it around. I get too many embarrassing comments when people find out a Latina is working in a garden. A M
exican landscaper, how novel is that? I don’t want to mar my mysterious persona.” Gabi looked her friends over from head to toe, then nodded, smirking, “Or in this case, persona non grata. I’d better leave you two to it, or I’m going to get bad karma.” Gabi turned and began to clomp back up the path in her garden boots, as noisily as she had entered. “Call me later, hermana!”

  “I will!” Vanessa answered.

  “Do you mean that?” Javier asked when Gabi had gone.

  “Of course. I love talking to Gabi. She’s one of my closest friends.”

  “I mean, do you think of Gabriel as a sister?”

  “Yes. And Carla and Marian are like surrogate moms. Then there’s Perla, who is like a mother hen. She’s the closest to a grandmother I have. And Squeak and Percy, who always make me smile. They are all my family now.”

  “I’m glad. I don’t like to think of you all alone.”

  “You’re looking out for me,” she smiled. Vanessa rearranged their arms so that they were entwined again. She leaned against Javier’s chest, savoring the feel of their heartbeats pulsing in their palms. “Here I am,” she raised her face and kissed his lower lip, “not alone.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hiding Jesus

  Wake up and pick up the phone! I know you’re there. Come on, hermana. This is an emergency!” Gabi’s voice on the answering machine startled Vanessa awake on Friday morning.

  “Hmm?” Vanessa mumbled into the receiver. She had worked late the night before and stayed up even later running aprons on the sewing machine. “Are you okay?”

  “Finally. I thought I was going to have to come over there and pull your skinny butt out of bed and risk disturbing you with a man.”