Guardian of the Fountain (17 page)

      
If the legend is correct, now’s the time for
it to start working
, Chrissie silently prayed.

      
A macaw in
the trees screamed, startling Valencia as the beat intensified. Valencia’s face
started to turn pink, and her hands flew up to her neck. “I can’t breathe,” she
gasped.

      
“Only the
pure of heart can enter in the garden,” Chrissie said calmly. “Your intentions
weren’t pure, and now you’re learning the hard way.”

      
Valencia
turned to try to escape the garden, but only made it three steps before
collapsing to the ground.

She lay
still as Chrissie approached cautiously. Chrissie turned Valencia over to see
the horror frozen on her dead face.

“The
garden has chosen,” she said as she picked up the gun from Valencia’s stiff
grip. A contraction seized Chrissie as she crumpled to her knees. “Please give
me strength,” she whispered as she breathed through the pain.

She
pulled herself up to standing and walked to the cave to go save the people she
loved, making certain to leave the garden door wide open.

* * *

Seconds
seemed like hours while Chrissie was gone with Valencia. There wasn’t anything
Brant could do. His hope started to wane as the minutes dragged on. Everyone he
loved was about to be ripped away from him.

María
flew to Chrissie’s side as she appeared in the library doorway, holding her
abdomen.

Brant’s
eyes widened with fear.
Something is
terribly wrong. Chrissie looks like she’s in pain.
His efforts to rip
through the cords that bound him began anew.

      
“Where’s
Valencia?” Franco said angrily.

      
“The garden
has chosen her to die. She didn’t make it back.” Chrissie threw the gun at Franco’s
feet.

“Prove
it.” Franco demanded.

“Feel
the gun—it’s not even hot. I didn’t kill her. I dare you to go down and
see for yourself.”

      
Franco
picked up the gun and threw it out the window, which shattered into hundreds of
sharp shards of glass.

      
Brant
watched Chrissie in awe.
She isn’t even
afraid of Franco, because she knows the power of the garden. She’s going to try
to lure him down there too.
His eyes widened in shock from the realization
that the legend was true. There was no doubt in his mind that the garden knew
the intentions of one’s heart. He never had actually seen it work. The truth
was he’d never let anyone get close enough to try the legend out.

      
“You’re
messing with something you know nothing about,” María spat.

      
“Don’t I?” Franco
mocked. “The Fountain of Youth will make me the richest man on the earth. I
will have power beyond what anyone could imagine. Now I will have to kill all
of you except one to harvest the water for me, since the garden kills.”

      
“No, the
protecting spirits kill. I’ve marked you with a curse. This is your last chance
to leave.” María’s hands shook with anger.

      
“I’m not
going anywhere, witch.” He pulled a gun from his jacket. It popped, sending a
bullet whizzing by María, narrowly missing her.

      
Brant’s
heartbeat picked up pace as he racked his brain for a way out of this mess with
the smallest number of casualties. The only person who needed to die was Franco.

María
began chanting an ancient Indian song. The almost-forgotten language was one
Brant had not heard very often. The pulse of magic grew louder as it climbed
out of the cave and traveled into the mansion.

      
Chrissie
stepped back and slid down the wall to the floor, beads of perspiration dotting
her brow. María flashed a concerned look over at Chrissie, but continued on
with her ancient chant. Step by step, she walked toward Franco, staring him down.

      
“Shut up!” Franco
yelled as he backhanded María across the face.

      
Brant tried
to yell through the tape. He admired the way that the slap didn’t even faze María.

      
María stood
her ground, her hair covering her face. The chant continued on, getting louder
and stronger. María was drawing on the power of the garden. She looked up at Franco
with anger radiating from her face.

      
For the
first time, Franco’s eyes betrayed him. They showed fear as he backed away from
María. He began gasping for breath as María continued chanting and pointed at Franco
on the final loud chant. He instantly fell to the floor, dead.

María’s
face aged years as Brant watched, and a new silver streak appeared in her black
hair. She had to pay a price to use a magic like that—it had taken a toll
on her body.

Chapter
23

María
stepped over Franco’s dead body and began untying Brant. She left the duct tape
for him to rip off. Arturo looked up at María with affection shining in his
eyes as she tenderly began freeing him from the cords that bound him.

“María,
if you could do that all along, why didn’t you do it earlier?” Brant rubbed his
wrists.

“Pero
it is far from traditional Christian beliefs, and I lose diez años
of my life using the power. The
ancients would never use it unless it was the last option.”

      
Another
contraction seized Chrissie. Her face drained of color and her arms wrapped
around her stomach as she curled up into a ball on the floor and cried. Brant
was still trying to shed his ropes and duct tape as he stumbled to her.

      
“It’s too
early,” Chrissie panted through the contraction.

      
“We need to
get you to a hospital.” Brant helped Chrissie stand. Her water broke and gushed
down her leg, leaving a puddle at her feet.

      
“It’s too
late. We won’t make it. I think I’m getting too close,” Chrissie stammered. Her
body began to shake. “I think I’ve been in labor for a little while.”

      
“Tell me
what to do,” Brant pleaded to María.

      
“Take her
up to your bed, Brant. I’ll be up in a minute after I help Arturo get these men
loaded up in the back of your truck to haul down to the village.” María’s quiet
voice calmed Brant momentarily. “Arturo will bring Dr. Wilson back with him.”

      
“Men?”
Brant wondered out loud.

      
“Chrissie
took them out one by one. Four people total—she’s very tricky.” María
patted Brant on the back. “Now you get her up to bed. I’ll get started
preparing for the baby to arrive.”

      
Brant
scooped Chrissie up in his arms. He had to step over one of the thug’s bodies
to get up the stairs. Chrissie clung to him and tried to relax her tightening
muscles.

      
“If
something happens to me don’t leave our baby’s side. I want her to at least be
held by her daddy when she takes her last breath.”

      
“Her last
breath?” The anguish in Brant’s voice resonated in Chrissie’s heart.

      
“Yes,
she’ll be too little to survive outside the womb. She might’ve had a chance if
we were in a modern hospital.” What could she do? She felt hopeless that all
the medical knowledge she knew wouldn’t be enough to save her baby. Guilt
racked her body. She felt like she had traded her baby’s life for Brant’s, but
how could Chrissie have known that she was going to come early?

      
Brant
walked into Chrissie’s small, humble room and laid her down on the bed. He went
over to her dresser, pulled out a clean nightgown, and placed it by her side.

      
“Thanks.”
Chrissie tried to smile. She had to be strong for the both of them. She could
see Brant inwardly breaking. This baby meant everything to him, and Chrissie
knew it. Her heartbreak would have to wait until she saw Brant through the
worst of it.

      
Brant
turned around as Chrissie changed into her clean nightgown. “I need to do
something!” he yelled as he punched a hole through Chrissie’s closet door.

      
Chrissie
gently turned him around as he raked his fingers through his hair. He always
did that when he was stressed. She pulled down his hands and smoothed them out
flat. “Yes, you do. Be here for me and our baby.” Another stronger contraction
began. Chrissie sucked in her breath and leaned into Brant.

      
Brant
wrapped his arms around Chrissie, and they swayed through the contraction.
Chrissie grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and buried her face in his chest.

      
The
contraction ended, and she stepped back toward the bed, rubbing her back. “I
wish I was in the pool right now.”

      
“You can
be, can’t you? I mean, it should help with the pain.” Brant guided Chrissie
toward the door and down the hall to the indoor pool.

“Water
births are all the rage in the States. I never thought I would ever have one.
Well, I never thought I would be having a baby in Venezuela, either.” As Chrissie
stepped to the pool’s edge, the water lapped up against the edge, inviting her
in.
 
She pulled off her nightgown, threw
it to the side, and began to wade in.

Brant
gasped. He reached down and tenderly caressed her stomach. “I’ve never seen you
this way.”

“Nearly
naked?” Chrissie asked.

“No.
I mean, yes, I have.” Brant shook his head and blushed. “I’ve never really seen
your belly like this.”

“I
know this isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.” Chrissie grimaced.

“No,
you’re wrong. You’re absolutely stunning.” Brant smiled wearily and took off
his shoes and socks. He waded into the pool with Chrissie. “Sorry I lost it
back there, but I feel so helpless.”

“I do
too.” Chrissie settled into the warm water, and she instantly relaxed. The
water did help with the pain a little bit.

      
The
contractions began to quicken in pace, and Chrissie panted through them. Brant
moved in behind her, and she melted into him to work through the pain.

      
“Rub my
lower back, please,” she whimpered as she rested her head in her arms on the
pool’s edge.

      
María
walked in. She looked several years older now. She didn’t have her usual happy
and at-peace glow about her. She looked tired. “Arturo is heading down the
mountain with all the men and Valencia piled up in the back of his truck. He
will go straight to the jail and drop them off until officials from Caracas can
pick them up. After that, he will fetch Dr. Wilson and return as quickly as
possible.” María slipped off her leather sandals and entered the water. She
escorted Chrissie to the bottom step in the pool.

María
put her warm hands on Chrissie’s stomach. “You are getting close.” María smiled
reassuringly at Chrissie. “Brant, sit behind Chrissie and let her rest against
you.”

Brant
obeyed and pulled Chrissie up against him.

Chrissie
leaned back against his chest and relaxed. “I can feel it. I think I need to
push,” she moaned.

      
“That’s
good. Do what your body tells you, unless I tell you otherwise.” María
commanded the situation better than any doctor Chrissie had seen. In all her two-hundred-plus
years, how many babies had she delivered? “Brant, I want you to help her hold
back her knees.”

      
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brant was used to following María’s orders.

      
“Chrissie,
I want you to take your mind somewhere else. Concentrate on the movement of the
water lapping up against you. Block out all other noises.”

      
“Okay, here
comes another one.” Chrissie knew a little of what to do, since she spent two
weeks in nursing school doing an O.B. rotation. She curled around her belly and
bore down. Tears slipped out the corners of her eyes, as the pain was more
intense than anything else she had ever felt. Her body took over and urged her
on to push through the burning sensation.

      
“That’s
very good, mija. You’re a pro already. The baby is so small, she will probably
be here in just a few pushes.” María exited the pool, gathered clean white
towels from the linen closet, and briefly left the room for other supplies.

      
“She can’t
leave me now! I need to push again.” Chrissie cried out. “I can feel it
crowning.”

      
“Go ahead.
Push. It will be okay,” Brant soothed her the best he could.

      
Chrissie
pushed and gave up halfway through. “I can’t do it. It hurts too much.” Her
body began to shake.

      
“You’re
stronger than you think. You can do it.” Brant rubbed Chrissie’s lower back.
“Do like María said and focus on the water.”

      
María came
back, holding the familiar blue wrapped packages that were found in any
hospital. She quickly tore open the packages and laid them out on a clean white
towel on the edge of the pool. She entered into the pool again and returned to
Chrissie just as another contraction began. “The baby’s head will be out with
the next push. Then it should be only one more push until she’s completely
out.”

      
Chrissie
bore down again. Her face turned red from exertion as beads of perspiration
dotted her forehead. The head of the baby slipped out.

      
“The baby
is almost here.” María began to guide the baby into position. With the next
contraction, the rest of the baby came out into María’s waiting hands. She
pulled the baby up and laid her on Chrissie’s chest.

      
Brant began
to weep. His body shook against Chrissie’s back.

      
Chrissie
sighed with relief. “Oh, my sweet baby,” she cried as she cuddled the baby to
her.

      
María tied
off the cord with little white clamps. “Daddy, you ready to cut the cord?” She
handed the surgical scissors to Brant.

      
“She’s
here. A little girl, and she is beautiful.” Brant unashamedly cried as he cut
the cord in one snip.

      
María
placed a fluffy white towel over the baby lying curled on Chrissie’s chest to
keep her warm. “Brant, you need to get out and wrap up the baby for just a
minute. We still have the placenta to deliver.”

      
Brant gave
a look of longing, obviously not wanting to leave Chrissie’s side. He eased the
baby from Chrissie’s chest into a small tea towel that fit in the palm of his
hands. “I won’t be far.” He got up, walked over to the wicker chairs, and sat.
He began drying the baby, trying to keep her warm. The room seemed eerily
silent. Chrissie waited to hear the baby cry, but she didn’t.

After
María had finished with Chrissie, she helped her out of the pool, wrapped her
in a big terry cloth robe, and escorted her to her room. Then she dried her
off, put her in dry clothes, and helped her into bed. Brant was never more than
five feet away from Chrissie’s side. As soon as Chrissie was settled in bed,
Brant brought the baby to her. Chrissie gently unwrapped the bundle to examine
her new baby. She expected to see a blue, dying baby under the towel, but she
wasn’t blue at all. She was a nice shade of rosy pink as she lay curled in
Chrissie’s lap.

      
“It can’t
be. María, can you hand me my stethoscope out of the top drawer, please?”
Chrissie began doing the newborn baby check to see how well she was.

      
María
retrieved the stethoscope and handed it to Chrissie.

      
“There’s air
moving through both lungs.” Chrissie’s voice held amazement. She still didn’t
want to get her hopes up, or Brant’s. She continued to check the baby over from
head to toe. The baby grabbed Chrissie’s finger and squirmed.

      
“She can’t
be more than a couple of pounds. I can fit her in the palm of my hand.” Brant
slid in next to Chrissie and admired the baby.

      
“She’s a
fighter, just like her mother.” María left the room and closed the door behind
her, leaving Chrissie and Brant alone to love their baby.

      
“I don’t
want her to leave us, ever.” Brant’s voice cracked as new tears slid down his
cheek.

      
“I wouldn’t
be able to bear it either. If only we could love her enough to make her live,”
Chrissie weakly whispered.

      
Chrissie
and Brant held the tiny baby in their arms and cried.

She
stayed pink.

Chrissie
hoped.

Brant prayed.