“Chrissie, shush. It’s okay. No one’s hurting you. It’s me, Brant. I’ve got you.” Brant cleared the damp hair from her face. He hated the fear in her bleary eyes.
“It was him. He came for the glass rose. I wouldn’t let him have it,” Chrissie blurted out.
“You did well. Who was it?” Brant spoke calmly. He had to be the composed one.
“I don’t know. He was wearing a suit, and he had a thick black mustache. He had a scar on his bottom lip.” Chrissie’s heart rate was at a hummingbird’s pace.
“You just described Franco Santiago, the leader of the largest drug cartel in the area, sweetheart.” He held her close into him in an effort to relax her. Trying to remain coolheaded as he thought of Franco in that hotel room, was difficult. He wanted to kill Franco.
“Thank you,” she mumbled into his chest.
“Anytime, Chrysanthemum Love Stevens.” Brant pondered what she had described to him as she calmed down. “I think the glass rose symbolizes the water, and you were trying keep the secret safe from Franco.”
“You think so?” Chrissie’s eyes looked tiredly into his face.
“Well, if you think about it, the rose and water go hand in hand everywhere together. It symbolizes the eternal bloom.” Brant scooted farther onto the bed, trying to get more comfortable.
“It’s at the bottom of the bath, and on the key to unlock the door in the library.”
“Exactly! I think it’s just how your brain pictures the secret. I think Franco was the one in the hotel room the morning you became ill. I just don’t know what happened to your necklace. Did he take it and give you something else, or did he force-feed you the orange powder to try to kill you? That is something we may never find out unless your memory comes back.”
“Do you think María and Arturo heard me? I would hate to wake them up over something as silly as a nightmare.”
“Don’t worry. They sleep in an apartment over the garage. They wouldn’t be able to hear you.”
“That’s good.” Chrissie had stopped shaking. “Would you stay here with me until I fall asleep?”
“If you’re sure you want me to.” It warmed his heart that she needed him.
Chrissie nodded as she rolled up one blanket and pulled back the other to the side, scooting over to allow him space on the bed. She put the rolled-up blanket between them and pulled the other blankets over the top. “Just as long as there’s no funny business.”
Brant chuckled. “I’ll take what I can get.” The rolled-up blanket struck him as comical. They had shared a few romantic moments before she had gotten sick that made the blanket barrier seem silly. He put his hands behind his head and thought about Chrissie’s memory fragments coming back. Piecing the puzzle of her memory back together again might be a little tricky. He could hear her breathing slow down and her body settle into sleep. Chrissie amazed him, defying everything thrown at her, and still being a ray of sunshine in his life.
Chapter 14
The morning light flooded into Chrissie’s room. After her issue with the nightmare had been settled, she slept like a rock, not even dreaming. As she started to become more aware of her surroundings, she could tell that her leg was wrapped over the top of Brant, and the chastity blanket she had rolled up between them had been stuffed to the bottom of her bed. Her head rested on his shoulder as he lightly snored. It was the cutest snore she had ever heard.
As she became more fully awake, the feeling crept in that she shouldn’t be in this position with Brant. She hardly knew him. Gently lifting her leg, she rolled off the bed in one swift motion. As soon as she stood, her head felt light and dizzy. She half expected birds to start flying around her head like in the old cartoons. Her stomach grumbled, and a brick that sat at the bottom of it started to rise in her throat. She ran to the tiny bathroom adjoining her room and shut the door just in time. She knelt down on the white tile and hugged the porcelain toilet as she heaved her stomach’s contents.
A soft knock came on the bathroom door. “Chrissie? Are you okay?” Brant called.
Chrissie didn’t have time to answer. She was too busy puking. Brant took the non-answer as his answer. He calmly walked in and held back her hair as she leaned over the toilet.
When she finished, she said, “Thanks, but you shouldn’t be in here. It’s embarrassing, you seeing me like this.”
“Someone needs to be here when you’re honking over the loo. I’m glad I was here. I can’t let you out of my sight can’t I? I must wrap you in cotton and keep you close.” Brant scooped Chrissie up in his arms and cradled her down the hallway to his room. “Have you been vomiting and not telling us? That would be just like you, to suffer in misery without telling a single soul.”
“I haven’t since I got here.” If she was in any kind of joking mood, she would have thought the previous statement of “honking over the loo” was completely hilarious. The problem was that she wasn’t. Even the Brits weren’t very funny when you were “honking.” “Where are you taking me?”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Just go with it.”
“Okay.” She was too weak to protest.
Brant’s room was large, with urban décor and a strong masculine touch. He set Chrissie down on his California king-sized bed as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn’t even bother with a shirt.
Chrissie looked at Brant’s chest closely. He worked out in the sun without a shirt on. She could tell because he was tan. Not an ounce of fat marred his chiseled muscles. She decided she would dream about him later, when she didn’t feel she was on the verge of puking any moment.
Brant walked over to Chrissie, picked her back up, and carried her down the grand staircase to the library.
“If you would, you’re going to have to tilt the books for me. My hands are full.” Brant smiled and nodded to the books.
Chrissie tilted the rose book down with one hand and the Ponce De Leon book by reaching it with her toe. The bookcase slid open. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. It’s pretty cool. It’s like we’re in a life-size Clue game.” Chrissie’s lips bent up at the corners in a slight smile. “Colonel Mustard, with the candlestick, in the library.” She grabbed the lantern and turned it on for Brant as he carried her down the large spiral steps.
Brant chuckled. “Even when you’re on your deathbed, you have wit.”
“It’s a coping mechanism nurses learn. They can find humor in the darkest and most gruesome things.” She sighed. He was carrying her around like she was his doll. “You know, I can walk. You’re going through too much trouble for me.”
“Not a chance. I don’t want you to wimp out and puke again. Just hang tight, and we’ll be there in a second.” Brant’s breathing showed no effort from carrying her.
“But aren’t I heavy to carry all this way?”
“Nope. Besides, this is the closest we’ve been since you came back. Don’t rob me of my moment.” Brant winked.
They finally made it to the door, and Brant was able to pull it open. He carried her in the early morning sunlight all the way down and straight into the pool. The water was up to his waist before he put Chrissie down.
“The water’s effects are stronger here. It loses some of its power on the way up to the house.”
The water was warm, but not hot. Steam floated off the surface anyway, evaporating into the jungle air. Chrissie could feel life slowly creeping back into her body as the nausea faded away.
“Don’t freak out. I’m just going to take off my jeans … that’s all. I don’t want them weighing me down in the water.” He took them off and spread them out in a sunny spot on a large rock to dry. Chrissie turned and blushed, trying not to stare was proving to be difficult. He swam to her and pulled her out to the middle of the pool right above the bubbling. “Feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you.”
“I like swimming here better than in the house. When I’m working in the garden, it gets a little warm in the afternoons, and it’s
so nice to walk two feet and be able to jump in and relax.”
“Is that all you do? Work in the garden? How do you make a living?”
“Father Delgado bought stocks in the U.S. stock market before he left. I’ve been watching them grow all these years and have a nice income. Plus, my exotic flower business is booming.”
“Must be nice. I thought my student loans were going to be over my head forever before I found out about this humanitarian project.”
“You are a really good nurse.”
“How do you know?”
“My hand is all better. See?” Brant held up his palm, and not even a scar was detectable from yesterday’s accident.
“You didn’t really cut it on the radiator, did you?”
“No. I cut it with my pocket knife right before I entered the clinic.” Brant smiled a wide, lopsided grin.
“Why in the world would you do that?” She was alarmed that he would cut his own hand just to get into the clinic to see her, but it made her a bit gleeful that he liked her that much. Then in the next instant, she was angry that he did it because of her. Her emotions tended to get all twisted up and it took time to unravel them.
“Arturo called and told me that you were going to get your job back, and I had to see for myself if you were well enough for that.”
“You little sneak! Arturo is such a tattletale.”
“No, Arturo just did what he was told—to keep a close eye on you. He didn’t think you were well enough to go back to work. It looks like he was right, considering what happened this morning.”
“Yeah, that was weird.” She lay on her back and floated on top of the water, watching the clouds float by. She lost track of Brant for a while. He was off somewhere in the pool. She felt back to full health when she climbed out of the water onto a grassy patch and lay down in the sun to dry her pajamas. She closed her eyes and soaked in the sun.
Brant found her basking when he plopped down next to her. “You want some breakfast? I went to the kitchen and brought some back while you were swimming.”
“Wow, you must’ve been in stealth mode. I didn’t even notice you leave.”
“No, you were just enjoying yourself. María left us bagels and cream cheese, fruit, and bacon.” Brant slid the tray over to Chrissie as she sat up.
“Where are María and Arturo anyhow?”
“In town. They’re selling produce this morning as per usual routine.” Brant spread a thick layer of cream cheese on a bagel and gave it to Chrissie.
“Oh, yeah. I knew that.” Chrissie had already eaten a few slices of bacon and was moving on to the fruit before the bagel sidetracked her.
“I’m glad you have an appetite.”
“The water is amazing! But why can’t I drink it?”
“You just need to be sure that’s what you want to do. One drink stops your aging. Everyone around you will be getting older, and they will see you unchanged. It might raise some questions. You would probably have to cut off contact with all those you know after a little while.”
“Right.” Chrissie could see the logic. “I’ll have to think about that one. You said I was going to take it, though, before I got sick?”
“Yes,” Brant said as he stared off into the pool.
“How did we meet?”
“The village was throwing a carnival party. They do it every year, sometimes twice a year, just to celebrate being alive. They don’t need a reason to party. Anyway, you were walking down the street with another nurse. You walked right by me, and I thought to myself, ‘You have to go meet that bird. You’d be completely crackers to let her slip by.’ So I did what any normal male would do when he sees a beautiful woman… I followed you for a bit until I had the guts to ask you to dance.” Brant started to laugh. “Adorro was the first song.”
“I knew it wasn’t a dream!” She was pleased that something rang true even if she didn’t remember all the details. “What else?”
“We dated for six months before you got sick. I hope that one day, you remember every detail of where our love began.” His statement hung thick in the air, like there was much more he wanted to say.
“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this.” Chrissie said, changing the subject to a cheerier topic of conversation. “Getting up early, going swimming, and eating here in the garden, minus the whole puking part. It would be perfect.”
“Yeah, try not to do that again. That loo will never be the same.”
Chrissie stuck out her tongue at Brant like a spoiled child.
“So, what are you going to do about the drug cartel guy in town?” Chrissie asked.
“I’m not sure. I really don’t have anything to fight back with. They have man and gun power. All I have is just me. Granted, I do have financial resources …”
“What if you sent them special brownies made with the orange stuff?” Chrissie thought that this would be a viable option.
“Really?” Brant said incredulously. “You think drug cartel leaders would eat brownies that magically appeared on their doorstep?”
“Don’t hate. It might work. They are drug dealers. Don’t they make special brownies all the time?” Chrissie nudged Brant with her elbow. “Lighten up.”
“I do have friends in the government, but so does the cartel so that route won’t do a bid of good.”
“Boring.” Chrissie sighed. “You should do something unexpected. Plus, now they know what you look like. You can’t exactly walk the streets of the village without being in danger.”
“Well, neither can you. They saw you too. Either in the hotel or at the café, they’ve seen you.”
“I didn’t think about that. That means I can’t work at the clinic.” She frowned at the scary thought she could be so vulnerable in the quiet little city. Her mansion perch seemed much safer.
“Arturo and María will have to be our eyes and ears to the village and the outside world.”
“Hey, isn’t there anything else in this garden that would be valuable to him? Like a flower or something that mimics you could trade for him to leave you alone?”
“Well, the Delphne Star kills people the moment it’s inside their body, so that one is out. I’m going to have to think about it. There are so many varieties of flowers here. It would take weeks to research them all.”
“Something that mimics the water, or we can make him think that this new concoction is what everyone thinks is the fountain of youth. Shoot, women spend millions on cosmetics that promise them the look of youth. Maybe the drug cartel is just as vain.” Chrissie wiggled her brows playfully.
“Good idea. I just have the feeling that there are too many ways it could go wrong.” Brant threw his apple core into the bushes. “Come on. Let’s go back to the house and get dressed before Arturo and María come back.”
“Scandalous!” Chrissie gasped. With a sudden turn of mock seriousness, she said, “Really, I do need some scandal in my life—the passionate kissing hidden in the bottom of a tropical haven kind of scandal. I wouldn’t mind in the least! Every girl needs to have moments when she is thoroughly kissed, and I’m long overdue. I just don’t have enough drama in my life.”
Brant pulled Chrissie up to him with his face inches away from hers. She could feel his warm breath on her face. “Don’t tempt me, unless you mean it.” The corner of his mouth tilted up on a wry grin.
Chrissie felt the blood rush up to her face and she nervously giggled. “I’m afraid I’m a little bit of a chicken.” She turned her face away from him.
“Still the same old Chrissie. I’m going to have to catch you off your guard, I guess.” Brant smiled as he led the way back to the mansion barefoot, carrying his jeans over his arm. A corner of Brant’s boxers dipped down, revealing a stark contrast of skin tones.
“Hey!” Chrissie shielded her eyes. She pretended to be offended, but actually, she was quite the opposite.
Brant roared with laughter. “What’s the matter? Did I blind you?” He tugged up his boxers to sit on hi
s hips.
“Well, at least I know you keep your shorts on when you work out here. Your bum is whiter than my bed sheets.”
“Well maybe I should work absolutely starkers.” Brant smirked. She wondered if he just might do that. That would be a sight to see. A welcome sight, but he didn’t need to know that.
* * *
Arturo and María met Chrissie and Brant at the top of the stairs in the library.
Brant confidently walked in with his jeans in his arms instead of on his legs. Chrissie was fully clothed in her pajamas, but still a little damp. María eyed them suspiciously.
Arturo didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Margarita tipped off the cartel.”
“How do you know for sure?” Brant draped his pants over the back of the office chair.
“Maribelle, Margarita’s madre, marched her down to our stand today to confess. Maribelle found a stack of dinero stuffed in Margarita’s underwear drawer and confronted her about it.” Arturo slid his hands in his pockets.
“Margarita has been saving to move to Caracas and get her own apartment. She phoned the cartel when you came into the café in exchange for one year’s worth of rent.” María’s face told no lies in the way her face wrinkled in displeasure. “I would take her over my knee and swat her if I could!” She went off in a tirade of Spanish mixed in with a few ancient Indian words.
Chrissie didn’t want to know what María was saying about Margarita. It would probably burn her ears.
“Well, Margarita just forfeited her protection from the water.” Brant’s firm tone meant he was serious. “The young ones have a hard time believing in magical water. She did a young and foolish thing.” Brant opened the drapes to the large windows behind his office desk, let light into the dark library, and looked out over the outside courtyard as the eastern sun shone in. “Arturo, we need to add another symptom to Chrissie’s list.”
“What else could there possibly be? She’s had them all.” Arturo scratched his head.
“Vomiting.” Brant’s words seemed to echo in the room.
Guardian of the Fountain Page 10