Guardian of the Fountain by Jennifer Bryce

a small step stool washed them, scrubbing them down
with crumpled-up newspaper.
    “Can
we sit out on the patio?” Chrissie looked out the large café windows.
    He
loved the way her nose wrinkled when she asked a question. “Anything you want.”
He meant it, too. He would give her anything she wanted at the drop of a hat.
All she had to do was say it.
    “You
are very accommodating. Your mother taught you well.” Chrissie led the way out
to the patio with a swish of her skirt and a hint of a smile spreading across
her pretty face.
           He hadn’t
seen her playful manner since before she had gotten sick. It was like Chrissie
was back—minus her memory.
    “Yes,
she did.” He pulled out a white iron chair for Chrissie to sit on and took the
other chair to face her. They both picked up the simple paper menus. The memory
of his mother filled his chest with sadness. He didn’t want to forget her. She
had died such a long time ago, he worried he might.
           “I don’t
even have to look at the menu. I must have eaten here at least once a week while
I worked at the clinic. It’s my favorite place to eat.” Chrissie put the menu
down. “I’m having cachitos de jamón and a side of tostones.”
    “No
churros?” Brant arched an eyebrow. He knew she loved churros. Any baked
confection, he knew she would love. He didn’t think amnesia could erase her
love of what she called “carby goodness.”
    “I
haven’t gotten to dessert yet. I must have churros, and I insist on paying. I
might make you poor by the way I eat,” Chrissie slapped her menu shut.
    “I
highly doubt it.” Brant raised a brow. “We’re on a date. I insist.”
    “So
you’re rich, eh?” Chrissie blushed the second the comment escaped her lips.
“Sorry. That was rude.” She shrank in her chair a bit.
    Brant
chuckled at the way she said whatever she thought. “No, it wasn’t rude. How
much can a tiny thing like you eat?”
    “You’d
be surprised. Lately, Arturo is no match for me, if that’s any indication.”
    “Don’t
worry about the money. I invited you.” Brant closed his menu and set it on top
of Chrissie’s. He moved his sunglasses to the top of his head and leaned
forward on his elbows to inch closer.
    “I
gave you fair warning.” She smiled nervously.
    “Really?
If a gust of wind came up, I would have to put rocks in your pockets to keep
you from blowing away.” Brant leaned back in his chair, turned his face up to
the sun, and replaced his sunglasses.
    The
sole waitress of the café came and took their order. While they waited for
their food, storm clouds began to roll in, and a slight breeze picked up. The
air smelled damp.
    “Where
are those rocks to stuff in her pockets?” he mused to himself.
    “So
much for picking a sunny spot to enjoy lunch. It looks like it might rain.”
Chrissie looked up at the sky and watched the clouds thicken.
    “Maybe.”
Brant looked up at the clouds too. “It might just blow over, though. We have
cloud cover for a little bit, anyway.” He hoped for cloud cover so his precious
Chrissie wouldn’t overheat.
    The
waitress brought out their food, setting their respective plates before
Chrissie and Brant. For the first time, he thought the waitress was acting a
little nervous. The colas rattled slightly on her tray. Her blue eyes kept on
looking to the street. The water clinked against the cola glasses as she set
them down. As soon as she had delivered all the food, she promptly retreated
back into the café and took a seat behind the counter inside.
    “Okay,
that’s weird,” Chrissie said between bits of cachito.
    “Margarita
did seem a little off. But I was too busy watching you chow down on your food.”
Brant stared at Chrissie. “Is your body completely hollow?” He waited for her
to slow down, but she never did. She was right—she could eat a lot. More
than her pre-sickness self. Brant took mental note of Chrissie’s new eating
habits, something he might need to