He opened the door to his cabin, ushered her in, and secured it behind them. He leaned against it and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Ian, are you okay?”
He didn’t answer but walked over to a half-full whiskey bottle and brought it to his lips. He drank greedily.
Gwen took the bottle. “What in the world is the matter?”
He pointed to the bed. “Go to sleep.”
“As if I could.” But she did sit down on the edge and watched him as he paced the short length of the room. He was unraveling so quickly she didn’t know how to stop it. She didn’t even know what was wrong.
“Ian, please sit. You’re making me nervous.”
“I can’t stop them.”
“Who?”
“I can’t. God, Gwen, if they take you too.”
Take her? Suddenly, it dawned on her. The rebels. “They aren’t here.”
“Aren’t they?” He still paced, his speed quickening. “They could be in the forest now and we wouldn’t have a clue.”
She took a moment to study him. He had seemed fine this evening at the party. What had happened between then and now?
Ian swayed and seemed to steady himself, only to crumple lifelessly to the floor.
“Ian!” she shouted and hurried to his side. “Ian, wake up!” She tapped her hand against his cheek. What in the world had happened? Should she get Gerard? After Ian’s reaction to her leaving the office by herself, she was rather afraid to attempt it now.
Gwen ineffectively waved her hand in front of his face, trying to cool him off. It was hot tonight; maybe he had heat exhaustion. But she didn’t think so. He didn’t feel warm to the touch, and he had seemed more paranoid than hot. It was as if he was internally spiraling out of control. Had it been a panic attack?
She touched his forehead, brushing the wayward locks that fell across his brow. “What happened, Ian?”
With a sigh, she looked over at the bed. There was no way she could carry him over to it, but she could do the next best thing. Gwen pulled the mattress off the bed and dragged it over to him. She had a feeling that between not sleeping last night and his episode just now, he’d probably sleep until morning.
The mattress wasn’t all that thick and rather easy to move. She tucked it next to him and then rolled him on top. That proved to take more effort. He was solid, uncooperative weight. Once he was on the mattress, lying on his back, she lifted his head a few inches so she could place the pillow underneath.
The only pillow.
Should she stay? She loathed to leave him alone like this. What would he think if he woke up alone and she was gone again? Her mind made up, Gwen sat down next to him and then slowly curled up next to him, using his shoulder as a pillow.
Her mind cycled through scenarios of what could have happened. She now believed it was a panic attack, but what triggered it? He had been speaking of the rebels. She never thought much about the time he had been held hostage, other than it must have been horrible.
Did something happen? Something unthinkable?
As she listened to his heartbeat fall into a peaceful pattern, guilt struck her anew. She realized her quickly devised plan would never work. Even if she “stole” the diamonds, sold them, and then wired the money to Ian, the rebels would still be there, always looking for another angle to fund their war.
Would he ever be safe?
* * *
Ian opened his eyes, blinking at the sun that lazily drifted through the windows. He must have slept late. Wasn’t Gerard supposed to wake him? Perhaps he was just as groggy from drink as Ian. Groggy was an understatement. It was as if he was trying to navigate the mine with his head stuck in the mud.
He would never drink whiskey again. Ever.
Groaning, he tried to sit up but was pinned. He looked over at the blonde head that kept him in his spot. Why was she here? How did the mattress get on the floor?
She hadn’t left.
Gwen had every opportunity to leave and yet she was here, curled up next to him.
He wiggled his fingers, attempting to get the feeling back in his arm without waking Gwen. She slept so soundly. He wished he could say the same for himself. But . . . he did sleep soundly last night. It must have been the whiskey. He wished he could remember how he came to be on the floor with Gwen. He doubted anything happened between them since they were both still dressed.
“Interesting.”
Ian looked over to find Gerard and Manni staring at him through the open window.
“Go away.” Ian was in no mood to deal with Gerard’s needling.
“You told me to wake you. I can’t say I didn’t expect this. But why are you on the floor?”
“I have no idea. I can’t remember anything.”
Gerard smiled. “The whiskey will do it.”
Gwen stirred next to him. Her slumbering eyes fell on Ian. She stilled for a moment before asking, “Are you okay?”
“Besides a headache, yes. Why?”
“You fainted last night.”
“I never faint.”
“You were pacing the floor and then you fainted.”
Pacing? Ian tried to remember, but he couldn’t seem to piece together the night. There were just a few blips and audio bites. He had a bad feeling it wasn’t just the whiskey that had felled him. He’d had panic attacks before. Could another one have been triggered?
“Is that why the mattress is on the ground?” Gerard asked.
Gwen gasped and swung her gaze to Gerard. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Hard to see anything when you’re so cozy with the enemy.”
“Ian is not my enemy. When he fainted I had to move the mattress over here because I couldn’t move him.”
“And then you thought to protect him by jumping in bed with him.”
“Stop,” Ian said.
“I was making sure he was okay. It’s not like there’s a phone to call 911.”
“Since he seems to have survived, you can leave now.”
“I will. I promised Ian I would.”
“You seem to promise many things, but they’re lies.”
“Stop,” Ian barked and then held his head.
He didn’t recall any promises, nor did he give a flying pig. He just wanted to piece his life back together. And that meant mining the last of the diamonds and getting them to safety.
Gerard swung around; something had caught his attention. “Ian is still asleep, Jala,” he spoke in her native tongue.
Before Ian could stop the intrusion, Jala opened the door, the edge bumping into the mattress. With her hunched-over frame, she immediately saw Ian and Gwen. And even though they were fully clothed, he knew without a doubt this would cause many problems. His suspicions were confirmed when she began scolding. Her voice rose to a banshee decibel. She swatted at Ian until both he and Gwen flew from the makeshift bed.
Her cries had carried, calling the villagers to Ian’s cabin. They looked on to see what the fuss was about. Saba popped in the window next to Gerard.
“Oh, Ian,” she said in a softer scold than Jala. “You knew the rules.”
“What rules?” Gwen asked, as she partially stepped behind Ian to block her from the swarm of uninvited guests.
Ian growled a curse in frustration. Of course he knew the rules. But he wasn’t expecting . . . He didn’t intend . . .
“What’s going on?” Gwen asked. She was now fully behind him, her hand clutching his arm.
“There are rules between unmarried men and women. We broke them.”
“We didn’t do anything.”
“We were alone together in a cabin. That is enough.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“So, do we get scolded?” Gwen asked. “I’m pretty sure Jala already did that.”
“No, we get married.”
“Seriously?” Gwen’s voice pitched an octave higher.
“You should have left while you had the chance,” Gerard mu
ttered.
Ian glared. “Can we have a minute alone?” he asked the room in general. While most people were still outside, the open door and windows lent to a wide audience who was very interested in the newest development. Since there were no TVs or books for entertainment, he didn’t blame them. But he did require a moment to talk to Gwen.
Saba shook her head. “You know the Mende leaders won’t allow it. The Sande will take her now.” She paused. “At least I think they will. It’s hard to say for sure since she is foreign.”
“So am I.”
“That’s not how we see you.”
“Who are the Sande?” Gwen asked. She was now pressed against him, growing more worried by the minute.
He placed a steady hand on hers. “The Sande is the women’s secret society. The Poro is for the men. They help to transform the young into adults. They will prepare you for the wedding.”
Her hands clamped down harder on his arms. “Wedding?”
“I have no control over this, Gwen,” Ian said sorrowfully. He didn’t want this to happen any more than she did. “We are in their village and therefore follow their rules. If you want to avoid marrying me, then find a way back to your jeep and leave before sundown. That’s when the ceremony takes place.”
“But you’re already married.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“But I met your wife, Nadia.”
He frowned. “I don’t really want to discuss this with a hundred ears listening, but I’m not married. I can tell you the whole story later. If you don’t find a way to leave, we’ll have plenty of time.”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m sorry, but yes. I’ll go through with the ceremony because it is expected of me. If I don’t, I risk losing the respect of the village and all the mine workers. I can’t battle them, the government, Jasper, the rebels, and you.” He shrugged. “If you can find a way to leave, then do so. But make sure you never come back. There are rules that also apply to runaway brides, and they aren’t lenient.”
Gwen looked so petrified that Ian’s resolve threatened to collapse. But there was no other way. Not now. The villagers had a peaceful way of existence, but they were strict when it came to what many would consider old-fashioned courting. He had to hold up his side of the unwritten contract. His entire life had been turned upside down a hundred different ways. He would not ruin the one thing that he counted on. His strong relationship with the people was the only thing that kept him going.
If Gwen was still in Njamba by sundown, he would marry her and deal with the consequences. He dreaded those consequences.
Chapter 12
Saba had been the first to welcome Gwen as a guest of the Sande society. The group as a whole wasn’t quite sure how to deal with her since she was foreign, she didn’t know the language, and she would most likely run away. But Saba was instrumental in helping to bridge the divide. While the rest of the women disbursed to prepare for the ceremony and celebration, Saba stayed at Gwen’s side.
“The Sande is a secret society of women,” she explained. “They help slowly introduce a girl into the society and prepare her for womanhood. But with you it’s a little different.”
Gwen looked about the small cabin that she had been escorted to only moments after Ian had said he wasn’t married. Between him not being married, secret societies, and a wedding ceremony that would take place in less than ten hours to unite her and Ian, her head reeled.
“Why would your society take me?”
Saba gave a tiny shrug. “Honestly, I’m not sure all societies would. But we love Ian, and so therefore his wife belongs with us. But don’t worry. We won’t hold you to all the formalities.”
“Just the one where I have to get married.”
She smiled. “Yes, just that one.” She stood and walked over to a trunk that was old and cracked. “Some girls don’t even get to court their boy. They are born knowing who they will marry.”
Gwen studied her for a moment. “What about you? Will you get to choose?”
Saba lifted the lid. “Yes, my family believes your heart should choose.” She took out a bundle of white cloth. “I know you’ll be happy with Ian.”
“And if I’m not?” she asked it more of herself, but Saba heard and gave another tiny shrug. “You have no ties here. I heard what he had said to you before. If you have a wish to run, I won’t stop you. No one here will. But for the sake of tradition, Jala, and the elders, we adhere to the rules. You are an outsider and can disappear any time you want.”
“If I did leave, what would happen to Ian?” Gwen asked.
Saba thought for the moment, her fingers playing with the cowry shells that were sewn on the delicate white cloth. “Probably nothing. Like I said, we love Ian. If you left, the villagers might pity him for a while. Maybe even tease him. But nothing bad would happen.”
If that was the case, Gwen knew Ian would fare well. He wouldn’t be brought down by a few remarks. He might even join in stating how lucky he was that he dodged a bullet.
But Gwen didn’t feel lucky.
She felt adrift.
The truth was that she was stuck on Ian. That one night had sealed her fate and locked her heart. Then she had ruined her chances with him. She accepted that fact with the barbed inflictions that came with it and moved on. But she never really moved on, she just circled back around. And now that he was forced to marry her, she might have a chance again.
But would he forgive her for staying?
And could she keep Duvine at bay without either men discovering each other?
Was it worth the risk?
She watched as Saba unfolded the cloth and held it up for Gwen to see.
“This will be your wedding dress,” she said, her fingers drifting over the light material. “Many of the women here have worn it. They would think it an honor if you wore it as well.”
As far as Gwen could tell it was no more than a sheet with cowry shells adorning it. It was beautiful, but she wasn’t quite sure how it functioned as a dress.
“I would love to wear it, but I’m not sure how,” Gwen said.
“I will help you. Think of it as wrapping a towel around yourself when you get out of the bath.”
“Speaking of baths,” Gwen started, realizing that if this was truly going to be her wedding day, she needed a bath desperately. She wondered if there would be a wedding night? With Ian already upset with her, it was likely she might have to spend the night by herself in the office. Still, a bath would feel refreshing and might give her a moment to gather her thoughts.
“Yes, the women are gathering the rainwater. We should have enough for you.”
“Enough? Has there been a drought? If you need the water, then tell them I’m okay without a bath. A washcloth with a small pail of water would be enough.”
She shook her head. “The bride is important. This is your day, Gwen. Besides, there will be more rain. There is always rain.”
Gwen wasn’t sure, but Saba smiled and seemed not to worry about water, so Gwen wouldn’t either.
“Saba, are there any men here that you’re interested in?”
“Only one, but it is too late.”
Too late? Gwen had seen her smiling at Ian before; could she be talking about him? But too late could mean many different things.
“Why is it too late?” Gwen asked, trying to steel herself if Saba was indeed talking about Ian. She never would want to hurt Saba, but Gwen was too selfish to give up this opportunity.
“He lost his heart to another, and she broke it.”
That didn’t clear up the matter. While Gwen didn’t think Ian had lost his heart to her, he could have lost it to his now ex-wife. She really needed to learn more about that story.
“Who is it?” Gwen asked.
Saba shook her head. “It is better if I don’t say.”
“Is he still with the other woman?”
“No, but his spirit is lost.”
“Then let’s h
ope his spirit finds his way home.”
Saba smiled. “I hope for that every day.”
The door opened, distracting them both. Saba quickly placed the cloth back into the trunk. “It’s time to eat and then off to your bath.”
Gwen let Saba lead the way. She would not ponder anymore about her decision to stay, nor the future. She knew she was making a horrible mistake, but she would not regret this one.
* * *
Ian paced along the river as the men sang and played music in the canteen. The rhythmic drumming punctuated each step as he agonized over the morning’s events. He wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near the ladies today, which meant he had no idea what Gwen was doing, if she was nervous, if she was angry, if she were ready to flee.
It was to be a big wedding celebration, and he was not to see the bride until she was given to him. Thankfully, they waved the mboya since Gwen’s family was not there to receive the bride price. He could only assume his possible future in-laws would be confused if not horrified that their daughter could be purchased with a gift of rice, salt, and palm oil. But he was overthinking things, because Gwen was sure to make a break for it. She had done so before with diamonds. Wouldn’t her freedom be worth even more?
Ian suddenly wondered if she had already left and he was worried for nothing. But certainly someone would notify him if Gwen made a dash for it. They wouldn’t keep him in the dark, would they?
“You’re going to wear yourself out before the wedding night,” Gerard said as he staggered from the canteen, a beer in one hand and the half bottle of whiskey in the other. “Want to drink? You earned it.”
Ian shook his head. Whiskey was what landed him in this mess to begin with. “Take it easy on the drink.” Concern for his friend won out against his worry. “It’s not even noon yet and you’re already swaying.”
Pocketful of Diamonds Page 10