Guardian of the Fountain (2 page)

      
She walked
down the ramp to retrieve her luggage. An older Hispanic gentleman with a jean
jacket and straw hat held a sign that read, “Señorita Chrissie Stevens.” He had
her only piece of luggage already at his feet.

      
She walked
up to him. “Hola, me llamo Chrissie Stevens.” Her Spanish came out choppy and
gringo
.
Boy, did she wish she had
paid better attention in high school Spanish.

      
“Wonderful!
I’m Arturo, your driver to the village. Dr. Wilson has sent me to pick you up.
Shall we go?” His Spanish accent was thick, but it was far better communicating
this way than if she tried to speak his language. His smile seemed to reach
from ear to ear with brilliant white teeth against his dark native skin. He
grabbed her bag and began pulling it behind him to a car waiting outside the
automatic doors. The humid tropic air flowed over her as the doors opened to
the outside. Arturo loaded her luggage into the back of a Prius. Three bungee
cords later, the hatch was secured.

      
The larger
metropolitan area bustled with life that was jam-packed into the streets.
People drove like they didn’t value life—only honking through the slow
spots and stop signs, swerving in and out of traffic at high speeds. Brightly
multicolored houses built up on top of each other on the hillsides surrounded
the city. As they drove farther and farther out of town, the buildings became
sparse in the tropical green vegetation. Chrissie’s eyes were glued to the
sights outside her window. The hour-long drive flew by in what felt like only
minutes.

      
Arturo
drove down the cobblestone main street of the tiny village. At the end of the
street, he turned left onto an even narrower alley and stopped in front of a
door and a window with shutters. “We’re here at your apartment, Señorita. I’ll
unload your bags while you go in and check it out.”

      
Chrissie
exited the vehicle and walked up the steps to the door. Tentatively, she walked
into the humble apartment. The very small one-bedroom living space smelled
freshly scrubbed. One small sofa and a two-person kitchen table were the only
things that could fit into the tiny space. One interior door in the far back
led to the bathroom, and another to a small bedroom with a bunk bed.

      
“I’ll be
leaving now. Is there anything I can get for you?” Arturo asked as he set her
bag down just inside the front door.

      
“No, thank
you. I should be fine.”

      
“The clinic
is at the very end of Main Street, and the café is near it as well. Marla is
your roommate. She should be home at six, and will bring dinner home with her.”
Arturo tipped his hat as he left the apartment and closed the door.

      
Chrissie
rolled her suitcase into the bedroom to unpack her things into two empty
dresser drawers and a very small closet, which was half-filled with Marla’s
things. One by one, with every item Chrissie put away in the quaint apartment,
she felt that her decision to come to Venezuela had been the right choice. More
importantly, she was thousands of miles away from Trey. She could start over.

      
The sound
of the front door slamming shut alerted Chrissie that she wasn’t alone anymore.

“Hello?”
a female voice called out. It was probably Marla.

      
Chrissie
shook her thoughts free of the past and went out to greet her new roommate.
Marla’s olive skin tone and dark hair almost made her look like a native
Venezuelan, but this woman showed flavors of Jersey—long, manicured
nails, large hoop earrings, and makeup heavily done with bronzer.
 

      
“Hey girl,
I’m Marla.” Her raspy Jersey accent sealed the deal. She walked over and set
down two white carryout bags of food on the small kitchen counter.

“I’m
Chrissie. I just got in not too long ago.”

      
“Yeah? I
bet you’re beat. Let’s eat, and then I can show you my favorite spot on the
roof to tan. Prime tanning hours are late afternoon. Don’t want to pass that
up. A good tan makes you look ten pounds lighter, and that’s the truth.”

      
“I’m in.”
Here was her chance to work on that tan in an exotic location. She changed into
her bathing suit with anticipation of soaking up some much needed sunshine.

      
As they
made their way up to the roof of the apartment, Marla filled Chrissie in on the
details of the village. “There’s only one decent nail lady. She doesn’t speak a
lick of English, and she’s all the way in Caracas. There are absolutely no
attractive guys under forty here. The slim pickings are making the Guido’s back
at home look good.” Marla walked expertly in her leopard-print platform wedges
to a lounge chair on the roof and lay down on it.

      
Chrissie’s
flip-flops and jean shorts looked blah next to Marla’s various animal prints. Her
cheeks warmed as she took off her oversized T-shirt and revealed her pasty
white skin in her tankini. Marla seemed completely unaware of Chrissie’s
awkwardness about stripping on the rooftop. True, it was situated away from
prying eyes, but she still felt exposed even though she wore twice as many
clothes as Marla.

      
“Here. You’re
gonna need this,” Marla said as she tossed the tanning oil over to Chrissie.
“Take off your shorts or they’ll leave ugly tan lines. I’ll work on the tankini
later.” She smiled behind her dark sunglasses that took up most of her face.
They lay in the warm sun for a while before Marla asked, “So, why did you come
here? What are you running away from?”

      
“I’m not
sure what you’re talking about.” Chrissie got the idea that Marla
knew
what she was talking about.

      
“Look,
girlfriend. Give it to me straight. Nobody comes all the way to the deepest
parts of Venezuela just to pay off student loans. I’m guessing it was man
trouble.”

      
“Wow.
You’re good. How could you tell?”

      
“Nobody
picks at their food and doesn’t care about their appearance unless they’ve been
dumped. You need to visit Marla’s salon pronto.” Marla smiled, pleased with her
spot-on assessment.

      
“I found
out my boyfriend was cheating on me with a rich socialite from Dallas.”

      
“Ouch.”
Marla dug around in her bag and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. “How long
did you date?”

      
“Off and on
for two years.”

      
“Double
ouch,” Marla said as she lit up. “The way I see it, he doesn’t deserve you.
Sure, you reflect the sun and you need a good blowout, but you’re a pretty
girl. Plus, you have to have brains to be a nurse. It just shows that he had no
brains.”

      
“So, what
are you running from, then?” Chrissie’s skin tingled from the heat of the sun
on her bare skin. The tanning oil, which smelled like coconut and lime,
reminded her that she was not on some ordinary rooftop—she was in an
exotic locale.

      
“I don’t
know. I just got so tired of my life, all the unnecessary drama. If you don’t
go clubbing every weekend on the arm of a Guido, you’re a nobody. Someone’s always
feuding with someone else.” A puff of smoke escaped her lips. “Then I got my ma
riding me all the time. ‘Marla Sophia DePandi, your eggs are going to dry up
any day. When are you gonna give your mamma some grandchildren?’ And I’d yell
back, ‘As soon as I can find a classy man, not some chauvinistic Guido.’ I’m
not going to stay at home, cook, clean, and pop out babies every year for my
man.” Marla tapped the ashes from her cigarette into an ashtray near her chair.
“I’m a career woman. I want a fancy apartment and a real man. Someone who has
his crap together.”

      
“I’d settle
for a man without an STD.” Chrissie laughed.

      
“No way! He
had an STD? Did you get trich?” Marla sat up in her chair and pulled off her
sunglasses, surprised.

      
“You mean
the foul smelling trichomoniasis?”

      
“Yeah,
whatevs’. What you said.”

      
“No, but
his new girlfriend did.” Chrissie’s laugh escaped her lips. This trip to the
rooftop was doing wonders for the soul—good girl talk, relaxing in the
sun, and a stress-relieving laugh. “That’s one of the reasons he cheated … I’m
a virgin.”

      
“No kidding?
I gotta give you props, girl. I wish I had that kind of self-control. The nun
life isn’t for me.” Marla resumed her position behind her sunglasses.

      
“Yeah, I
might be a bit old-fashioned, but I just don’t want to give something so
private to just anybody. If I did, I would feel like I was being used.”
Chrissie turned over onto her stomach and let the sun warm her back.

      
“Isn’t that
true? It’s a mutual using and throwing away, isn’t it? I hadn’t thought about
it that way. Maybe there is something to this celibacy thing.”

      
“Oh, I don’t
want to be celibate forever. I’m going to wait for marriage. Not with any man …
my man.”

              
“Chrissie,
my grandmother would say you are an old soul. I think I’ll keep you around,
maybe you can be the one to steer me in the right direction.”

Chapter
2

      
Brant
wanted to throw the broken-down air-conditioning unit off the roof. It was the
third time this month he’d been up here to fix it for Señora Cruz. He couldn’t
see the eighty-year-old woman fixing it herself, and she could only pay him in
menudo. Not that he needed the money, but he’d rather just buy her a new unit.
She refused every time he offered, saying, “Why buy something new when the old
can be fixed?”

      
Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw blonde hair blowing in the breeze. His eyes focused
in on two girls sunbathing on the rooftop two buildings over. One reminded him
of his girlfriend, Valencia. The other looked like a sleeping angel with a halo
of brilliant blonde hair. The fair-skinned beauty, which was a rare sight
around these parts, intrigued him.

      
The
realization that he was staring made him divert his eyes back to the task at
hand. Besides, he needed to finish the job so he could be in Caracas by evening
for his dinner date. He wondered if the hour-long drive and an evening alone with
Valencia were really worth it. Most days, it seemed like work to make her
happy. It probably wasn’t.

      
He
reattached the metal grate to the unit and climbed down the ladder. Tomorrow,
he would call for a new unit to be put on Señora Cruz’s house in the morning
while she was gone to Mass. She wouldn’t know the difference, but he would. He
would save his visits for menudo only and leave the rooftop visits in the past.

      
On the way
to Caracas, his mind continually revisited the sleeping angel and wondered what
had brought her here to the village. He recognized the other woman as one of
the humanitarian nurses at the clinic. The blonde girl was probably a new
nurse. He would ask Dr. Wilson about her next week when he dropped off
supplies.

* * *

      
“I think
that’s the last of the crates, Dr. Wilson.” Brant removed his work gloves and
wiped his brow with his arm.

      
“I
appreciate it. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know. You do so
much for this clinic already. We are forever in your debt.” Dr. Wilson shook
Brant’s hand warmly.

      
“It’s my
pleasure. But I do have one favor. Who is that new nurse you have working
here?”

      
“Ah,
Chrissie. She is a rare gem. I see you’ve noticed her.” Dr. Wilson cocked a
brow and grinned.

      
“Well, of
course I noticed her. She is the first naturally blonde girl I’ve seen in the
village.” Brant felt the corners of his lips turn up at the thought of her in
her bathing suit.

      
“She’s a
new shipment from the States. Came here just last week and is already
invaluable to me. Her work ethic puts us all to shame. The only problem is her
Spanish.” Dr. Wilson chuckled. “But give her six months, and she’ll be talking
like a native. She’s a quick learner. Just yesterday, she mastered stitches
that took me three months to learn. You stay away, Brant Wilson. I don’t want
you running away with my best nurse.”

      
“Oh, don’t
worry. I’ve got my hands full with Valencia.”

*
 
*
 
*

      
Chrissie
walked by Arturo’s produce stand on her way home from work. Her feet ached,
although her spirits were high. Her spirit radiated joy from the service she
was doing at the clinic. Who knew that working for only room and board could be
so fulfilling? She was going to have a hard time leaving in almost six months’
time. The previous six months had flown by in a flurry of busywork.

Papayas,
bananas, mangoes, and many other delicious fruits lined the table in the
market. Every morning for the past five months, she had bought something to
supplement her packed lunch, and Arturo always managed to sneak in a little
more than she expected. Then on the way home, she would pick from his stand and
a few other stands in the market for dinner.

      
“Venezuela
is good for you, mija. You glow now.”

      
“It’s all
this fresh food I’ve been eating. The produce in the States tastes like dirt
compared to yours. I don’t think eating from a vending machine on night shift
is so good for the health, either.” Chrissie picked three apricots from a
basket and handed them to Arturo.

Arturo
took them and put them in a paper sack with a bunch of bananas. “On the house,”
he said. “María said she wants you to stop by the casa. She says her heart
hurts again.”

“You
and I both know that she has a stronger heart than any thirty-year-old.”

“Sí,
her heart hurts because it misses you. She has adopted you as one of her own.
Can’t say I blame her.”

“I
see her every morning on my way to work.” Chrissie’s words were filled with
amusement. “But I will go because I miss her too.” Her laughter amazed her.
Six months ago, I never would’ve thought
this was possible, to find such happiness in my life that doesn’t involve Trey.
He was time wasted
.

“Say
hello to Marla for me, mija.”

“Thank
you, Arturo. I will.”

* * *

      
“It’s been
a few months since you got rid of that chupacabra of a woman. It is time to
move on, and I have the perfect girl for you.” María continued to knead the
bread dough in her bowl. Flour dusted her arms all the way up to her elbows. A
tidy cook was one thing María was not.

Brant
sighed heavily. “I don’t want to date anymore. I’ve searched this long for a
girl, and have come up empty-handed. I just don’t think it is in the cards for
me. I can’t leave this place for longer than a week. I have too many
responsibilities.” Brant leaned the kitchen chair back against the wall,
throwing an orange into the air and catching it over and over again.

“Please,
mijo. Just this last time,” María begged. “I just know she is the one. I can
feel it.” She glanced out the window. “In fact, here she comes.”

“What?”
Brant exclaimed as he sat up abruptly, and the chair gave way out from under
him. He tumbled to the floor and quickly recovered by hopping to his feet. “I
can’t be here.”

“I
let you decide after you see her.” María shoved Brant into the pantry closet
and shut the door. She wiped her hands on her apron and answered the front door.

“María,
Arturo sent me over.” Through the slats in the pantry door, Brant watched the
pretty blonde American nurse walk across the threshold.

“Yes,
mija. Come sit. I will get you a bowl of pozole.” María went to the stove and
ladled some soup into a bowl for the woman.

“María,
you spoil me.”

“It
is well deserved. You look exhausted from your day at the clinic.”

“The
only effects of the day are my aching feet. I’m really very happy and could
probably work another eight hours, but Dr. Wilson kicked me out and said to go
home.”

María
did have good taste. This was the same woman Brant had seen now and then around
the village. He had tried to keep his mind off her, but he frequently caught
himself daydreaming about her. María was usually right, but he couldn’t just
come out of the pantry and introduce himself. That would be very awkward, to
say the least.

“Arturo
said your Spanish is almost perfecto.” María beamed at the woman as she ate.

“Arturo
is too kind. I can understand it and speak most of it, but everyone speaks so
fast. It is hard to keep up.”

“Let’s
have a little girl talk, shall we?” María glanced at the pantry door and
smiled. “Do you have any novios in your life?”

The
blonde’s soft giggle sounded like music in Brant’s ears. “No way. My boyfriend cheated
on me, and I dumped him. I’m very glad I did, too, or I wouldn’t be here. I
can’t imagine ever leaving.”

Brant
watched as the conversation between María and the woman continued, but he
couldn’t get past the part that she was single. Inner elation made him want to
jump out of the pantry closet, but he restrained himself. The woman finished
her soup and thanked María before leaving an air of magic in her wake. As soon
as María closed the front door behind the woman, she immediately opened the
pantry door, releasing Brant from its confines.

“Well?”
María asked. “What do you think?”

“I
think she is lovely.” Brant smiled. “Right, as usual.”

“So?”
María waited expectantly.

Brant
bent down and kissed the native on the cheek. “So, I think it’s time for me to
go home.” He winked at María as he walked out the front door.

* * *

“I
don’t know why I still smoke these. I don’t even like them.” Marla threw the
cigarette onto the ground and smashed it into the dirt with her toe.

“The
only time I see you smoke now is once after work. You used to smoke like a
chimney.” Chrissie smiled as she leaned back into the doorframe on the front
step.

“You’re
right. I think I’ve smoked my last cigarette.” Marla sat down next to Chrissie
on the step. “I’ve even stopped teasing my hair. I don’t need to anymore now
that it has enough body. What’s in the water here? It must be all that healthy
food we’ve been eating. The Jersey smog seems to be slowly wearing off.”

 
“Two things that will be hard to get rid
of are the heels and the leopard prints.” Chrissie jabbed Marla in the ribs
with her elbow.

“I
will never give up the heels.”
 
Marla smiled and laid her head on Chrissie’s shoulder. “Are we going to
the carnival tonight?”

“Didn’t
we just go to a street party last week?” Chrissie tried not to sound like she
was whining. She really wanted to take a hot bath and watch a steamy telenovela.

“No,
that was just some random music and dancing in the street.”

“Oh …
it did have that sort of flash mob feel to it, didn’t it?”

“This
carnival is one of two parties thrown by the village’s rich mayor or something.
One of the other nurses says he’s British. He’s probably fat, ugly, and has bad
teeth. You know, smokes a pipe and drinks brandy…the whole bit.”

“Probably,
because we both know we’re thousands of miles away from anything resembling a
hunk,” Chrissie agreed.

“Ah,
who cares? We should go. The Jersey girl in me is screaming for a party. In
fact, I feel a makeover coming on.”

“Uh-oh.”
Chrissie shook her head against the idea.

“I
promise I won’t tease your hair, and I’ll leave the bronzer in my makeup bag.
It’s a good thing you have a tan now or I’d have to call in the big guns.”
Marla pulled Chrissie up from the step and into their apartment. “You have to
stop wearing a ponytail sometime.” Marla began pulling out dresses and throwing
them on the bed until she decided on a light peach sundress and some wedges for
Chrissie. Marla’s flurry of tools and tricks worked their magic. Chrissie’s hair
was pulled around a round brush and blow-dried into large, soft waves down her
back. Marla’s eye shadow palette made her look like a professional artist
working on Chrissie’s blank canvas. After an hour and a half, Marla finally
handed Chrissie gold hoop earrings.

“Oh,
no.” Chrissie waved away the earrings. “I’m not from Jersey.”

“Yes.
I’m putting my foot down right this second. It’s either gold hoops or animal
prints.”

“All right.”
Chrissie swiped the earrings from Marla’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be your guinea
pig, but that’s only because there’s no chance I’ll see anyone good-looking and
over five six tonight.”

“That’s
a good girl.”

* * *

“I
feel a little uncomfortable.” Chrissie tugged at the hem of her peach dress. It
was three inches shorter than she would’ve liked. “I haven’t worn this much
makeup since the pageant I was in.”

“You
were in a pageant?” Marla turned to Chrissie, astonished.

“It’s
like a rite of passage for a girl in Texas. I did it for the college scholarship
money, though. My mom did it for the fun of dressing me up.” Chrissie linked
arms with Marla as they made their way down the street toward the carnival.

A
string of light bulbs zigzagged across all of Main Street, flickering as people
laughed and danced underneath them. A small band played on a makeshift stage in
the middle of the street. Instead of the usual produce stands lining the
street, tables of baked goods and sangría beckoned to be sampled.

“Okay,
I must admit, this is better than I thought it was going to be.”

“First
stop…the sangría! Wahoo!” Marla tugged Chrissie toward the table of punch and
sodas. “You can take the girl outta the party, but you can’t take the party
outta the girl.”

“You
go ahead. I think I’ll go say hello to María.” Chrissie laughed at her friend’s
enthusiasm for sangría. She walked through the crowd with the distinct feeling
that she was being watched. The hair on her head prickled, sending shivers down
her body. Looking around the sea of happy faces, it was hard to tell if she was
imagining the sensation.