When I Found You (A Box Set)

by Webb, Peggy

  “Hello! Anybody home?”

  The notion of slicking himself up for Ruth was a silly vanity. She was family now. What did it matter how he looked, after all? He set the comb down and adjusted his eye patch.

  “Coming.”

  Ruth was standing in his doorway smiling and slightly apologetic, a guidebook of Central Africa clutched under her arm.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “No.” Not in ways he could explain. “I guess you’ve come to see Cee Cee.”

  “No. Not Cee Cee.”

  “I see,” he said, not seeing at all.

  He got sidetracked suddenly, and he guessed she did, too, for they stood staring at each other like strangers who found themselves traveling a foreign country together, each hoping the other could speak the language.

  “I thought ... Actually, I guess I didn’t think. I was out exploring, and suddenly I found myself on the trail that leads here.”

  It was the most flattering thing he’d ever heard, that she’d found herself coming to him without even knowing why.

  “I was going exploring, you see,” she added. “Oh, I’ve already said that.”

  “Africa is a wonderful and magical place.”

  “Malone said you know the jungle like the back of your hand.”

  So Malone had sent her. He was crazy to feel deflated, as if he were a balloon and somebody had let out all the air.

  “I probably shouldn’t have come without any warning. I apologize for interrupting you. I’ll just go quietly so you can get back to your work.”

  She couldn’t leave. Not yet.

  “Stay. Please. ” He reached toward her, almost touching her. Almost. Ruth. His brother’s wife. Quickly he rammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad you came.”

  He was making a complete fool of himself. Very few women came to his camp except Eleanor and an occasional reporter, and he had no idea what to do. An unusual state of affairs for him—he always knew what to do. On his mountain among the gorillas, he was king. Now, facing Ruth, he was a knave.

  “You must be very busy,” she said. “I apologize for interrupting your work.” Sudden color bloomed on her cheeks. “Oh, I’ve already said that too.”

  Her cheeks were turning the color of very fine wine. He watched, fascinated. Ruth shifted her book from one hand to the other. Body language. A subtle signal that he’d been staring too long.

  “No. I’m the one who should apologize. Standing in the door like a fool. Forgive me, Ruth. I’m not used to company.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  “I’ve been at it since five o’clock this morning. It’s time for a break. Come in and I’ll tell you exactly where to find everything in that guidebook.”

  “Thank you, no. Actually, I wondered whether you might go with me.”

  The idea of going in the Jeep with her made him feel like a teenager. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt that vaulting sense of freedom and invincibility.

  “Why not? I’ll drive so you can look.”

  Ordinarily it was a chore he hated, playing tour guide to greenhorns who desecrated the sacred tranquility of the rain forest with their restless fidgeting and their endless chatter. But Ruth was different. Serene.

  As they drove through the trails, he soon forgot she was there. Because she didn’t intrude, he lost himself in the wonder of the land and discovered that translating that wonder for her was the same as praying.

  “Once there were seas of exotic animals here,” he said, “wildebeest and oryx, and mighty herds of elephants.” He could see them roaming the plains as they once had, masses of them, sleek and wild and free, as much a part of the land as the mountains that cast their shadows over it.

  “But man encroached on Africa, raped and pillaged its resources in the name of civilization. The animals know how to hide from us now.”

  Ruth gazed into the distance, across the slopes and gorges, her eyes misty, her hair lifting softly off her neck in the breeze that drifted down from the mountaintops.

  High on a ridge above them, a large cat showed itself.

  “Look, Ruth. Up there.”

  “A panther?”

  “Yes. You’ve just seen a rare sight.”

  She crossed her hands over her heart, and there were tears in her eyes. Now he understood why Malone had married her without knowing anything at all about her background. In one small gesture she had revealed her soul, and it was pure and lovely.

  Somewhere deep inside, Brett exulted. He drove the Jeep up a steep trail that overlooked a waterfall tumbling into a gorge so green that the color spread outward and upward, suffusing the air with a clean, fresh smell and even lending an emerald tint to the sky.

  “It looks newly created,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said, pleased and touched. “It’s my favorite spot.”

  They sat side by side, not speaking, not touching, simply sharing the miracle of creation in awed silence. A small herd of duiker stole silently out of the shade. Two of them made their way to the edge of the water to drink while the others grazed and lolled about on the thick carpet of grass. One of them, a baby on spindly, uncertain legs, capered between two adults, occasionally sprawling on his hindquarters, sometimes losing the balance in his forelegs so that his wet black nose pressed into the grass. Finally he got the feel of movement, and his loose capering became a lovely fluid movement, a dance of joy.

  The sun dropped suddenly behind the mountain, turning the sky to a brilliant palette of gold and red and purple. A single shaft of light caught in the small duiker’s fur so that he was transformed, ethereal, golden.

  “Look!” Ruth clutched Brett’s arm. Her gaze was riveted on the baby duiker, and there was such a glow of pleasure on her face that her skin looked as if it had been lit from within.

  “That’s so beautiful I could cry.”

  She already was. Totally unaware. Tears shimmered on her eyelashes, rolled down her cheeks. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. Off her. Off her cheeks, soft and beautifully defined. Off her hand, resting lightly on his arm. Her nails had pale half-moons, perfectly shaped. They made her look fragile, vulnerable.

  He stared at those cream-colored half-moons, and such a sense of loss came over him that he could have wept. If he’d been Malone instead of himself, he would have had the right to hold a pair of fragile hands, to watch them do simple tasks—lift a teacup, smooth a collar, caress a baby’s cheek. If he hadn’t chosen to hide on a mountaintop, he would have been the one to sit in the lamplight and watch as those pale half-moons were slowly buffed to a fine sheen.

  He dared not move lest Ruth notice him watching her hand and take it away, embarrassed at what she saw in his eyes.

  Naked longing.

  Not for her. Not for his brother’s wife. But for all the things she represented. For all the things that had been denied him—or that he had denied himself.

  She must not see. He pulled his gaze away, turned it toward the sunset that was painting the Virungas. No one who had seen it had ever failed to be awed, though most visitors tried to hide their awe, as if it would mark them as children rather than adults. Ruth was not afraid to let her wonder show.

  Side by side, not moving, not speaking, they watched while the sky changed from gold and red to deep rose streaked with violet, and finally to gold-veined purple that faded to blackness so thick, it was impenetrable.

  Only when darkness descended around them did Ruth stir. Like a woman waking from a trance, she flexed her shoulders and shifted her legs. Then, suddenly aware, she glanced sideways at Brett.

  One single star bloomed out of the blackness, and its light fell across her hand with the same bright force of a missile seeking its target. Both of them looked at her hand resting there on his arm, so easy, so natural ... and then, suddenly, at each other. Such a look—as if they had just discovered how the eyes could see past skin and bone, past cloth and buttons, past lies and pretensions, straight to the heart.


  Ruth’s fingers tightened, her fingernails sinking slightly into his skin. Brett felt the prick of pleasure-pain, even felt the half-moon shape of her nails.

  Their gaze wouldn’t let go. Finally, desperately, Ruth dragged her hand away.

  Brett ran his finger lightly over the grooves her nails had made in his skin. The movement vibrated through her so hard, she hugged herself to stop her shaking.

  “Malone!” she said, as if he had materialized out of the darkness. “I promised him I’d be home before dark.”

  Brett was suddenly angry with his brother, furious that he sat at home in the safety of his cottage while his wife was in a pitch-black rain forest she didn’t even know.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take you home.”

  “I’m not worried about getting home. I just don’t want Malone to be worried about me.”

  “Malone’s a big boy. You’re not responsible for his moods.”

  Ruth seemed to shrink from him, though actually she didn’t move at all.

  “I didn’t mean that he’s moody,” she said.

  Brett felt a vague sense of disloyalty, as if he’d stabbed Malone in the back.

  “No, I didn’t either. It’s just that night comes so suddenly to Africa, you had no way of knowing when to start back home.”

  “I guess I have a lot to learn.”

  There was a forlorn quality in her voice, a little-girl-lost tone that made Brett want to pick a fight with somebody for causing it. Just about anybody would do.

  “Give yourself time, Ruth.”

  “That’s what Malone says ... about everything.”

  About everything? What things?

  He had no right to know.

  He turned the Jeep around and headed down the mountain. Neither of them spoke until they were almost to his camp.

  “I can go the rest of the way by myself,” Ruth said.

  “No.”

  “I’m not some hothouse flower, you know.”

  “I know. Still, I’m taking you home.”

  “It’s nice of you, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but how will you get back?”

  “Malone will bring me.”

  “I forgot.”

  Forgot what? Malone? The questions burned in him, but he didn’t dare ask.

  They rode along with the sounds of the jungle echoing around them, the calls of the night birds, the bark of the duiker, the trumpeting of a lone elephant, and far in the distance, the muted drumming of a male silverback gorilla.

  “You don’t think he’ll be mad?” she said.

  “Malone?” he asked, as if he himself had forgotten his own brother. “He won’t be mad or upset, either. He knows you’re with me.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re with me?”

  “I’m not sure. He said you’d show me the jungle, then I said I thought I’d explore by myself, and I started out that way, but before I knew it ...” She stared out the window in silence, then turned to him, ethereal in the pale lights from the dashboard, like someone he’d imagined. “I don’t think he knows.”

  “I’ll explain.” Explain? As if he and Ruth had done something wrong. “I wanted to show you the sunset over the gorge. There’s no way you can get home before dark if you see the sunset over the gorge.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He could see the lights in the cottage and the shape of Malone as he stood at the window. Looking for his wife.

  “Ruth.” Brett slowed the Jeep.

  “Yes?”

  Her face was a pale oval, her eyes so dark, he could see nothing except a pinpoint of brightness in their centers. What had he been about to say? Crazy, to be so absentminded.

  “Come to see me anytime you need me.” Would she get the wrong idea? “You’re family now, and I’ll do anything for my family.” Unconsciously, he touched his eye patch. “I just want you to know that.”

  “Thank you, Brett.”

  She touched his arm, the fragile half-moons on her fingernails silvery and shining in the moonlight.

  “Malone’s waiting,” he said.

  Her hand was warm on his arm, and when she withdrew it, he felt a chill.

  “Yes,” she said. “Malone’s waiting.”

  Chapter 25

  He was worried sick about his wife, and there she sat as calm as you please in the Jeep with Brett. If Malone had followed his first instincts, he’d have gone roaring out of the house like a wounded bear and punched his brother in the face. Fortunately, he let second thoughts control his behavior, and his second thought was how lucky he was to have a brother who took care of everything, including his wife.

  “Ruth!” He couldn’t wait to touch her, to feel her against him. His wife. Sometimes the wonder that she’d said yes to him caught him high up under the ribs in such a gut punch, he nearly lost his breath. “Darling!” He flung open the door of the Jeep and pulled her into his arms. “I’ve been so worried about you. What took you so long?”

  “The sunset,” Brett said. “Over the gorge. I took her there. It’s my fault that she’s late.”

  Malone thought of himself sitting alone staring anxiously out the window while Brett watched a sunset with his wife. Always second-best. Old feelings stole over him, threatened to destroy his reason.

  “We didn’t mean to worry you, darling.”

  “We,” she’d said, as if the two of them had planned it. He looked at his brother, tall and handsome, sure of himself in ways that Malone never could be. Why had Ruth gone to Brett after telling him that she wanted to explore alone?

  But he could forgive her anything because she’d called him darling. A first. Did that mean that she was beginning to love him? Just a fraction as much as he loved her?

  “What can I say? You’re a woman worth waiting for, sweetheart.” Did she actually snuggle into him? Usually he felt a slight resistance, as if she were made of some kind of material that would bend only so far without breaking. “Thanks for taking care of her, bro.”

  “Anytime.”

  Anytime? Malone was immediately ashamed of his jealous thought. Brett would do anything for the family, and that now included Ruth.

  Malone leaned into the Jeep.

  “Scoot over, bro, and I’ll take you back up the mountain.”

  “No need. I’ll walk.”

  “Walk! Shit, there’s a rainstorm brewing. You’ll get soaking wet before you get halfway.”

  “Good. I need a bath.”

  “I noticed.”

  Ruth apparently didn’t see the humor in Malone’s remark. Her face full of concern, she was leaning into the Jeep toward his brother.

  “I’ll feel terrible if you have to walk back home because of me,” she said.

  “Actually, I need to walk so I can check on poaching activity. They do their dirty deeds at night.”

  “Will you be safe?”

  “Yes. I’ll be safe.”

  Malone felt shut out. And petty. He should be proud of his wife’s compassion.

  “Ruth, darling, let’s say good night to Brett and go inside.”

  “Thanks for the tour, Brett.”

  “Anytime, Ruth.”

  Why was she still leaning into the Jeep? And why was Brett still sitting there?

  The rains came upon them suddenly, not in drops the way an ordinary rain should begin, but in a great deluge, as if a river had burst high in the mountains, its waters flung upward and downward at the same time. The earth turned instantly to mud.

  Brett barreled out of the Jeep and struggled to get the top up. Malone slogged toward the Jeep to help him.

  “I’ll do it,” Brett yelled over the rain. “Take care of Ruth!”

  As if he needed to be told what to do with his own wife.

  “Screw the poachers!” Malone yelled. “Take the damned Jeep. I’ll have Bantu bring me up tomorrow to get it.”

  Brett waved him off. Malone wrapped his arm around Ruth’s waist and
sprinted toward the cottage. Inside, they shook the rain off themselves, but it did no good. They were already soaked.

  “Will he be all right?” Ruth stared out the window, trying to see through the driving rain.

  “He’s stayed out in worse rains than this just to study his damned gorillas. Your worry is wasted on him.”

  “Wasted! How can you say that? He was very kind to me.”

  “And what does that make me? Chump of the year?”

  Ruth looked at him as if he’d socked her in the face, but she didn’t budge from the window. Ordinarily he would have said something funny to ease them out of their first major battle, but he wasn’t feeling funny. He was feeling left out.

  “I didn’t say that.” Ruth turned her back to the window, but she still held on to the windowsill. What did she think he was going to do? Wrench her away?

  What he wanted to do was not be on opposite sides of the room fighting with his wife, but he didn’t have sense enough to end it. Not yet.

  “I would have gone with you to see that damned sunset.”

  “Is that what this is about? That I watched a sunset with your brother?”

  “What else did you do?”

  If looks could burn, he’d have been black from head to toe. She looked at least six feet tall as she stalked from the room.

  “Ruth ... wait.” He caught up with her at the door. “Honey, I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what got into me.”

  Ruth looked at the liquor bottle he’d left sitting on the bar, judging the level of liquor, studying it the way Brett had studied him out by the Jeep.

  “Can’t a man have a little drink to keep from being worried crazy over his wife, who’s gone into the jungle with nothing but a guidebook?”

  Ruth put her hands on his cheeks, and Malone knew that everything was going to be all right. He felt like crying with relief.

  “I’m sorry I worried you.”

  “I’m sorry I acted like such a pissant. Forgive me?”

  “All’s forgiven.”

  “Why don’t I build a little fire, and we can pop some corn and rub each other’s feet and plan how we’ll make our first fight into a funny story to tell our grandchildren?”

  “I think I’ll change out of these wet clothes first,” she said.