16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
The Fountain
SAL
Sal walked beside Willow as they experienced Intramuros on foot.
She remembered going on a field trip here as a little girl.
This small part of old Manila remained just as beautiful as it was back then with its esoteric charm.
Knowing that a place was so old and remained preserved made one feel as though they were stepping into another rich tapestry of human history, one painted with the blood and pride of its people—the Filipinos.
Theola promised to pick them up after finalizing their lodgings, so it was just her and Willow for now.
Willow marveled at the kalesa1 and the Spanish colonial style shops.
“It’s like St. Stephenshire,” she marveled.
Sal disagreed, though she understood why Willow thought so.
There was an esoteric feel to both places, but unlike St. Stephenshire, the air was hot, the cobblestone roads were nearly flattened with wear, and the trees and plants were all beautiful shades of green instead of ocher.
The sun was so scorching Sal felt her body warm up as its rays touched her skin.
She was glad she had worn a navy-colored cotton dress and pinned her hair in a half-pony.
She didn’t remember Manila being this hot.
Though, in retrospect, she’d been away for years in between quick visits, and that was long enough to forget what a place felt like.
She willed herself to focus on the task at hand instead of her discomfort from the heat.
She wiped the sweat from her neck with a kerchief.
Willow checked the itinerary. “We’re supposed to gather at the meet-up point with Harmon’s group at Café Intramuros,”
After a few minutes, they arrived at a café at a pretty little corner of one of the stone buildings. The entrance to the coffee shop was a pop of reddish-brown, adorned with bright green vines and potted plants, with a painted sign showcasing the café’s name on it.
“Finally,” Sal exhaled. She needed some shade and air-con. When they stepped in, she immediately felt the drop in temperature.
Willow peered back and said, “Sal, I’m so damn impressed so far!” She took off her sunglasses and placed them firmly on the crown of her head, controlling her large mass of red curls that hit just above her shoulders.
Naturally, the locals stared at Willow in curiosity. Sal remembered her friend looked every bit the foreigner, with her freckled olive skin, red hair, and towering height. It was no surprise that she naturally turned heads wherever she went.
The manager approached them. “Hello, madam,” he addressed Sal, and then nodded to acknowledge Willow with a kind smile. “Ilan po sila?” he asked in Tagalog. Interestingly, even though Sal spoke with an American accent, they knew her to be one of them.
“He’s asking how many of us are dining,” Sal said in English for Willow’s benefit. She replied to him in Tagalog and then turned to Willow. “I just told him we’re to meet someone named Harmon Moon.”
“Sir is already here,” he said and gestured for them to follow him.
A few paces in, Harmon came into view, and her heart leaped at the sight of him.
Harmon sat against an arch-shaped window.
Light sprinkled through and framed his fine features as he read a book alone peacefully.
He wore deep brown trousers that hung loosely at his ankles, a white linen shirt with sleeves folded to his forearms, and his hair was draped neatly past his temples.
“Ma’am?” said the manager. “Okay lang po kayo?” He had caught her staring.
Sal blinked and joggled her head. “Yes, I’m okay,” she said, looking back at him. The manager merely smirked back, and Sal couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. God, what was wrong with her? She was engaged. But, damn it, why does he have to be so handsome?
Harmon closed his book and looked at his watch when he saw her. “You’re late. We should have started half an hour ago,” he said, looking annoyed.
“Why’d you wait, then? You could have just done your thing,” she quipped and took a seat opposite him.
Harmon shook his head. “That’s not how I operate.” He placed his book in a small satchel that was on the table. “Where’s your assistant?” he asked as he stood abruptly while adjusting his bag, looking eager to start the canvassing of museums.
“She’s at the dessert counter stuffing herself with Filipino confections, no doubt. But she’s not my assistant; she’s my friend.” Sal paused and considered Harmon for a moment after she realized he was alone. “So where’s yours?” Sal said, looking around.
Harmon cleared his throat. “My assistant got a bad stomach flu when we arrived and is ill-disposed until further notice,” he said, not hiding his frustration.
That’s why he didn’t leave them; he had no one to guide him through Intramuros. He was probably too proud to admit it. Ha! Sal thought. “Don’t worry, Mr. Moon,” she said with a smirk. “I’ll make sure you don’t get lost along the way.”
Harmon gave her a long, hard look. Sal gave a teasing grin in return. Just then, Willow arrived, munching an ensaymadita while holding a packet of polvoron.
“Hey you guys, are you hungry?” she asked, offering Harmon some of the polvoron.
Harmon looked so uneasy that Sal almost burst out laughing.
This was going to be quite a day.
***
Their major stop was the San Agustin Museum, a church that doubled as a museum because of its beautifully preserved stone walls and Spanish colonial style architecture.
They had seen architectural accomplishments during the Spanish occupation throughout Intramuros, but none as grand as the San Agustin Museum.
“Ah, Mr. Moon,” the museum director greeted Harmon as she straightened her blouse. “Nice to have you here, sir! Come this way.”
“I apologize for being late. My assistant is on sick leave. And my…group was late to the meet-up point,” he said, eyeing Sal with a hint of annoyance.
“No problem. We are very honored to have you visit the museum. This way, po.” She let out an impressed smile and began their tour of the museum’s highlights.
Every time Harmon asked about a piece, the director answered with extensive knowledge, but when Sal asked, she answered curtly.
It wasn’t surprising that people working at museums would fawn over his celebrity.
If he was known in their community, then it made perfect sense everyone would want him to choose their museum for the honor.
Imagine the coverage! And if you were the museum director, working with Harmon Moon would be an important addition to your resume.
As they concluded their tour, there seemed to be an event taking place at the pocket garden. From Sal’s point of view, it looked like a photoshoot.
“Sir!” trilled a voice.
A few people from the event they saw surrounded Harmon like a pack of wolves. “We’re doing a shoot for the museum and wanted to ask if you’d pose for a couple of photos?” they asked him.
“He looks so oppa,” giggled and whispered one girl who gathered near him.
Harmon was very attractive—heck, the guy looked like a Korean actor alongside her supermodel-looking friend, Willow. Come to think of it, Sal looked like an imp compared to them. She grimaced at the thought. How was she ever going to be taken seriously against him?
“Ma’am!” The same voice that trilled behind them resounded beside Sal so clearly that she took a few steps back in surprise.
“You’re so pretty!” gushed another person who once had his full attention on Harmon.
“You and Mr. Harmon would be great for the photos. The director humbly asks that you guys take a few photos by the fountain? I hear you’re both respected art curators. ”
Before Sal could agree, the two ladies who had fussed around Harmon ushered her to the fountain with him. “Um…Willow?” Sal looked back. “A little help?” she called out.
Willow held back a laugh and just sipped on her water jug.
“Ma’am, could you move closer?” the photographer called out.
“This is fine.” Sal frowned and straightened her back.
“But you’re too far apart.”
True, they were nearly a meter apart, but that was as close as she would get to Harmon. “Guys, just take the photo,” she said in Tagalog.
The photographer let out a disgruntled sigh.
But after a few seconds, his face lit up, and soon after, Sal felt a shadow loom over her.
She turned slightly to see Harmon standing so close to her he blocked out the glare of the sun.
But before she could object, he said, “I dislike this as much as you do. So let’s just get this over with. ”
Sal cleared her throat. Fine, she thought begrudgingly. Her cheeks felt hot, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of the heat or because of his proximity.
“Could you both please turn to each other, like a three-quarter view?”
Harmon positioned himself as requested.
“That’s perfect, sir!” The photographer moved his hands to gesture that Sal needed some further direction. “Ma’am, please turn more toward Mr. Moon.”
Sal’s heel caught on the corner of a rough cobblestone, and she almost lost balance before Harmon held her elbow. She heard him clear his throat, and in an alarmingly tender motion, he slipped his hand to the small of her back.
“That’s it!” the photographer yelled excitedly.
Sal couldn’t stop her heart from pounding. She took a few silent, deep breaths and forced herself to smile for the camera. From afar, she could see Willow sipping from her tumbler, looking amused at the sight of them.
“Closer, please,” the photographer requested.
Harmon moved her closer. Surprised at the gentle tug toward him, she accidentally placed a hand on his chest to steady herself. He looked hesitantly at the feel of her hand on his chest, and they locked eyes.
Sal’s breath caught as his dark eyes pierced through her.
For the first time, she could see the fine lines on his porcelain skin, a freckle here and a small scar on his temple.
There was a solemnness to him as he looked at her.
An electric jolt shot through her from this sudden connection—his hand on her back, hers on his chest—a fleeting moment that felt endless.
Then a click of a camera sounded and pulled her from the trance. “That’s my shot!” said the photographer with a big, bright smile. “Thank you!”
Sal pulled herself away from Harmon and nodded as she walked toward Willow, who still had a teasing grin. “Okay, shut up,” she said as she walked past her. “Let’s just finish this and leave, please.”
Willow burst into a fit of laughter as she strode beside Sal.
Flustered, Sal rummaged through her tote bag to check her phone and saw missed messages from Rafa.
She hadn’t thought about Rafa all day; a pang of guilt ran through her as she read through his messages and replied as quickly as she could.
Why was she having all these reactions to Harmon?
I need to get a grip, she thought. She locked her phone and told herself she’d call Rafa later that night.
They were running behind schedule and still had a lot to cover.
So she stuffed her phone in her bag and tried to focus on the itinerary.
1.
. Kalesa is a horse drawn carriage used in the Philippines. It was most common during Spanish colonial era and is sometimes used in some cities.