Claire's Prayer

by Yvonne Cloete

  Pulling Seth into a quick hug, Simon wiped his tear-filled eyes and nodded. “I know, Seth. I know. It feels like the floor has gone from under you. When Gail passed away I felt the same way. Just try to take each day as it comes. You and Naomi will be fine… It’s just going to take time.”

  It had taken time. But, Seth thought as his thoughts came back to his surroundings, he and Naomi – and Impunzi – were slowly becoming ‘fine’ again. Seth sighed, and sat back. Now, perhaps, they could help someone else through her bereavement. At long last, the tannoy system crackled into life and announced the arrival of the flight from Lisbon that Seth had been waiting for. He stood and stretched, then strolled towards the announcer.

  Claire stepped hesitantly through the arrivals gate, and quietly watched people hurrying to and fro. Now what? As though answering her unspoken appeal, a voice echoed through the terminal.

  “Would Miss Claire O’Sullivan please come to the Information Desk? Miss Claire O’Sullivan to the Information Desk.”

  Dragging her luggage, Claire made slow progress to the airport lobby. Leaning against the counter of the desk she was seeking was a powerful-looking man dressed in khaki trousers and a pale linen shirt. He tapped his long brown fingers impatiently on the polished surface, as his brown eyes skimmed the crowd.

  Seth saw a slender girl approaching, her long blonde hair falling in a tangled cloud around her face. Dark smudges under her green eyes did not distract from her natural beauty. She was not his usual type – not tall by any means, not dark or mysterious – but the way she was put together was very pleasing to the eye. Seth couldn’t deny it: she was gorgeous.

  Seth immediately turned as he heard her give the desk attendant her name, her accent unmistakable. She was the one he had waited around all day to collect. Before the young clerk could say anything, Seth stepped closer and held out a strong brown hand. “Welcome to Zimbabwe, Miss O’Sullivan. I hope your flight was okay? I’m Seth Henderson.”

  Claire stared dumbly at him as his deep voice washed over her. They sure come big in Zimbabwe, she thought. Seth Henderson was one of the biggest men she had ever seen. He towered over her, and had the solid build of a rugby player. What caught her attention the most was his deep tan; he obviously spent a lot of time outside. Irish men looked pale and insipid compared to this man.

  Claire suddenly realised she needed to say something. “He… Hello. Yes, I’m Claire. Claire O’Sullivan,” she managed. “Pleased to meet you, Mr Henderson.” Good start, Claire, she thought: she had stumbled over her words as if in a daze. She let her luggage go and her hand met his, to be engulfed in a friendly handshake.

  Her warm hand still in his, Seth pulled himself together. “It’s just Seth. Well, if that’s all your luggage we’d best be on our way. You ate lunch on the plane?” Claire nodded. “Good. We have quite a way to go to Bulawayo, where we’ll sleep over for the night. Okay?” In no time at all, and without waiting for a reply, Seth caught a porter’s attention and had Claire’s luggage stacked onto a rickety trolley. As Seth directed both porter and luggage outside, Claire followed slightly behind him, for the first time feeling unsure about the whole venture. Could she trust this large stranger? She didn’t stand a chance against him if not. Quickly, Seth saw to stowing her cases in the boot of his BMW, then leaned across and opened the passenger door for her. After hesitating for a brief second, Claire slid into her seat and clicked the door shut.

  Expecting Seth to start the car, she jumped in surprise when he settled back with a deep sigh and looked her intently in the eyes. “Listen, Claire – I know you’ve had a rough time lately. I know condolences must seem hollow, but I’m… I’m really sorry about your parents. And, I promise, you really don’t need to look so scared and apprehensive.” Seth grinned conspiratorially. “We are pretty decent people here in Zims – and I don’t go in for harassing young Irish women. Relax, okay, and you’ll have a great stay with us. Impunzi is a place out of time. Anyway, you’ll see for yourself when we get there tomorrow. But, for now, trust me. Okay?”

  Responding to his smile, and the gentle, sincere look in his deep brown eyes, Claire smiled back. “Okay, Seth. Thanks.” Claire settled herself back for the trip. “Do you know Donald and Helen well? They’re good friends of my family.”

  Starting the car and pulling out of the parking area, Seth did not answer her immediately. When they were outside the airport terminal he answered. “Don and Hellie? Yes, I got to know them quite well. They were at Impunzi for a few months last year. They’re a great couple.” Seth paused. “I had a letter from Helen explaining your situation.” His eyes left the road for a second, meeting Claire’s. “Hope you don’t mind?”

  Claire sighed deeply and looked out of the window, to hide the sudden moisture in her eyes. It was somehow startling to be reminded that she had, in Seth’s words, a ‘situation’ at all. “No, I don’t mind. It was just … all so unexpected and sudden. It takes some getting used to.”

  As if sensing her distress, Seth did not answer. Instead, he reached forward and slipped a cassette into the deck in the car. The voices of the Eagles, one of her favorite bands, filled the car and lightened the emotion-filled moment. The BMW ate up the miles, and the soft music brought a calmness to Claire’s tumultuous emotions. Before long, her head slipped sideways and sleep claimed her.

  Seth glanced sideways and saw Claire’s eyes had closed. He was grateful. As much as he was enraptured by the sound of her lilting voice, he was glad not to continue talking for the moment. He had worried she would ask him questions, too. He had been back to Harare several times, travelling to and from the airport with tourists, but somehow this trip had brought a storm of memories with it.

  Now Seth recalled returning to Impunzi that first time, with Simon and the rest of the ranch labourers, as his truck had eaten up these same miles between Harare and Hwange. The closer they had got to the ranch, the more Seth’s anger had grown. It was not supposed to be like this. Gripping the steering wheel, he’d followed Simon’s Land Cruiser as it turned up the dirt road to Impunzi. Thank God Naomi did not have to go through this; she was with Tony. He, too, had suffered, and would know what best to do: four years earlier, both his wife and child had been killed on the road. There had been too much death. Now Seth was just glad that Tony and Naomi had each other. As he approached the first gate Seth felt his heart thudding. This was where it must have happened. Driving on a short way, Simon stopped his vehicle. He watched as Seth climbed from his truck.

  The police had removed Seth’s parents’ vehicle from the scene of the ambush, but all around were signs of what must have happened. Seth could see where the car had stopped, and how his father had obviously tried to reverse away from the danger. The car must have come to a final stop on the embankment: all around were boot prints and scuff marks. Empty AK47 shells littered the area. Seth noticed a dark patch on the soil and stopped in his tracks. Falling to his knees, he buried his face in his hands as he realized that this was where his father had died. Standing at a distance, Simon waited until Seth had restarted his truck before approaching his and following on. His heart ached for Seth, but he knew that a man needed to deal with his grief alone – with no probing eyes, no false pretenses of being strong. Only then could the healing begin.

  As Simon and Seth opened the buckled security gates a little way down the road, the returning labourers stepped down from the trucks and walked into Impunzi, eyes downcast. One, in an emotion-filled voice, told Seth how he missed Mr and Mrs Henderson, and how sorry he was that they had not been able to protect his parents, or the homestead. Seth glanced up sharply. What had happened to the ‘homestead’? Looking at the man in shock, Seth ran up the front pathway.

  The front door hung off its hinges. He cursed as he entered the hallway and took in the chaos. Walking quickly from room to room, his anger grew to frightening proportions. Was it not enough that the attackers had taken two lives, that they also had to destroy their sanctuary? They must have rammed th
rough the security gates after the killing was done. Simon tagged along behind Seth, giving him time to absorb the damage done to his home. The inside of the house looked like a tornado had gone through it. Furniture was damaged and thrown around; windows were smashed. Brushing past Simon, Seth bolted outside. He needed fresh air and time to absorb the deliberate destruction of his home.

  Approaching him quietly, Simon explained, “Seth, we’re just lucky that the gang was scared off when an army helicopter flew overhead. I’ve done a quick check: the damage to the house is superficial. It won’t take much to get it looking normal.” Seth looked up, desperate to believe Simon. He didn’t feel ‘lucky’. Simon continued, ‘The first thing to do is get the security gate repaired.”

  Taking a deep breath, Seth asked the newly-returned labourers to begin tidying up inside the house. Going to the workshop behind the ranch’s garages, he found steel pipes and fencing. For the next few hours he and Simon worked in silence under the hot sun. The labour, Seth realised, was just what he needed; he was beating, pounding out his anger against the buckled metal. As the sun sank low in the sky, Seth and Simon were sitting, admiring their rough but functional handiwork. Simon finished his beer and sighed, “I really have to go now, Seth. I don’t want to drive when it’s dark.” Simon fixed Seth with an unwavering gaze. “You need anything – anything at all – just call me.”

  “Okay.”

  Seth walked Simon out to the road, and watched him drive away. He stood in the twilight, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Simon had offered to stay over, but Seth knew he had things to do on his own ranch. He had his own home to protect. Seth locked the repaired security gates and walked slowly back to the empty house. Pouring himself another beer, he locked the back door and slowly made his way to the bedrooms. Passing the rooms where he and Naomi slept, he pushed open the door to his parents’ room. The tide of destruction had not got this far.

  Stepping inside, Seth noticed that his mother’s perfume hung in the air as if she had just sprayed it. The bed was neatly made up and everything was tidy, just as Mom had liked it. Seth sat on his father’s side of the bed, and picked up the novel his dad had been reading. As he thumbed through it, a marker fell out and fluttered to the floor. Seth picked it up, but had lost the page where it had sat. It didn’t matter. Tears blinding his eyes, Seth blinked hard. He gently folded his father’s glasses, and riffled through the pile of papers on his bedside table. Taking a deep swig of his beer, Seth walked to the dressing table and lifted his mother’s brush. Strands of her hair were still entangled on the bristles. Everything was just as they’d left it – almost as if they would walk back through the door at any moment. But they never would. Why?! Anger flooded through Seth and, with one ferocious swipe, he knocked everything off the dressing table onto the floor. The sound of falling bottles shattering exploded in the quiet of the night.

  Shaking himself, Seth left the room and decided to get some boxes from the storage cupboard. Someone had to do this. He could not leave this task for Naomi to cope with. Long into the night, Seth methodically emptied his parents’ closets, shelves and drawers. The pile of boxes grew as he lovingly folded or wrapped each item and packed it away. Some things Naomi would want, he knew, but the rest would be donated to charity. Mom would have wanted that. Opening the safe set into a corner wardrobe, he locked up his mother’s jewellery and all the papers from his father’s drawers. He would go through them some other time. Noticing a bulky envelope in amidst the loose leaves, Seth took it out and opened it. It was his father’s will. That was another thing he and Naomi would have to do soon: see the lawyers. Seth glanced at his watch and was shocked to see that it was two o’clock in the morning. A dull headache throbbed behind his temples, his nose was blocked and his eyes itched (from all the dust, Seth told himself), but he knew he would not be able to sleep yet. Settling his six-foot-six body into an armchair he had once been too small to climb into, he sat staring into the darkness, sipping beer.

  The next few weeks had been disorienting. Seth had learned from his parents’ lawyers that Impunzi had been left jointly to him and Naomi, along with a sizeable inheritance. This had allowed them to organise the funds needed for the immediate running of the ranch. Tony could run things while Seth took his final exams, and Simon could help often enough for Tony to see Naomi regularly. The last thing Seth felt like doing was going back to university, but he had worked hard for three years; besides, he knew his father would have wanted him to get the certificates and diplomas he’d earned in the animal husbandry, electrical and mechanics modules he’d taken to prepare him for, one day, taking over the ranch. That day had come sooner than anyone had expected.

  There was also Melanie to deal with. Seth and Melanie had had a steady relationship for over a year. But somehow Seth had suddenly gained a far broader perspective, and romance was no longer a priority. Seth knew with quiet certainty that living and working alongside him on a ranch had never been part of Melanie’s plan. With little regret, he told her that their affair was over. He hardened his heart to her tears and pleas. Everything was different now; Impunzi was his life, and his future could no longer include her.

  Seth crammed for exams, living off strong coffee and take-aways, and leaving his flat only to visit the library. Sleep was elusive but stealthy: often he awoke in the early hours, slumped over his desk. It was often difficult to concentrate on his studies, but at other times Seth felt his newfound determination not to waste his life drive him – and, at still others, his work was all the distraction he had from his grief. He phoned Naomi every day; they spoke for long stretches of time or, sometimes, he just held on and listened to her crying. Seth wasn’t used to feeling powerless.

  The morning of his final exam arrived. Months earlier, Seth had looked forward to this as a time of celebration. Seth’s friends and classmates, whom Seth had been avoiding during these last short weeks, were spending the rest of their final day in the bar. Seth, however, booked his flight home for that same afternoon. Without a backward glance, he handed over the keys of his flat and caught a taxi to the airport. With the slam of a car door, another phase of Seth’s life was over. He wondered what the future held in store for him. With quiet certainty he knew that everything revolved around Impunzi, and making a success of it. Even though his parents were not there anymore, he could not wait to get back into the bush again.

  Seth heard Claire turn slightly and snuffle quietly in her sleep. His gaze had been fixed on the road – he hadn’t allowed himself to think through things like this before, as far as he could remember. It had left him feeling exorcised, almost renewed. He looked at the Zimbabwean autumn sun, beginning to descend towards the skyline again. Seth ejected the cassette, which had stopped over an hour ago, and made to turn it over.

  The noise woke up Claire. At some point in the journey, she realised, Seth had draped a travel rug over her. There was now a decided chill in the air. Claire looked up and a soft gasp escaped her as she took in the beauty of her first African sunset. The sun, a huge orange ball, hung low in the twilit sky, tinting the heavens with shades of orange, yellow and purple. Lying low in her seat, the trees seemed to Claire to be silhouetted against the skyline. The scene was postcard perfect. Zimbabwe was magnificent.

  Claire jumped as Seth’s voice came to her, deep and low. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve lived here all my life and still the beauty gets to me.” Seth grinned down at her. “Feel better after your sleep?”

  Pushing herself upright, Claire smiled back sleepily and answered, “Yes.” She peered wide-eyed back at the sky. “It’s absolutely lovely – this land has a raw, rugged beauty like I’ve never seen before. No wonder so many foreigners come here and never return home.”

  “You’re right there,” Seth replied. “I’ve done my fair share of travelling, and I’ve never seen anywhere I’d rather come back to.” A contented pause filled the car. Seth broke it first. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Taking in their surround
ings, Claire saw that they were parking outside a roadside restaurant. Unfastening his seatbelt, Seth slid from the car. “We’ll stop here for dinner and then carry on to Bulawayo. That okay by you?” Nodding eagerly, suddenly dying for a cup of tea, Claire grabbed her handbag and left the car.

  Over dinner, Seth proved to be very knowledgeable about it his country. His love of his birthplace was evident in the pride with which he spoke of it. He spoke of a country with both bustling cities and large, open bushlands, with plentiful wildlife and beauty unique to Zimbabwe. He talked, too, of a land recently ravaged by war, of people who drew strength from each other and who had learned to roll with the blows dealt to them. Many families had buried loved ones. Seth believed that time, though, was healing old wounds and that pain and suffering had bound Zimbabwe’s different races together. Now, its countrymen lived in relative harmony; a fragile peace had descended as they all worked together for the good of their motherland. Now a new dawn was rising over Zimbabwe, Seth believed, and people were reaping the fruits of their long years of labour.

  The time passed quickly as Claire discovered more about Seth. She found his openness and willingness to talk about his land very endearing. Impunzi, he told her, had been in his family for about sixty years. His grandparents had come to Africa from America as a young couple, and fallen in love with what was then Southern Rhodesia. His grandfather, Sebastian, and grandma, Sarah, had both grown up in an orphanage in Brooklyn, New York. It was speculated that during the influx of Jewish, Irish and German immigrants they had somehow been abandoned. Their childhood friendship had blossomed into a life-long love. On leaving the orphanage aged eighteen, Sebastian had worked two factory jobs and saved their sea fare. When Sarah turned eighteen, they were married by a magistrate and left America for the shores of Africa. Seth had loved to listen to stories about their departure from New York. He pictured the two of them standing and watching the Statue of Liberty until they could no longer see it; their arrival in Cape Town; how they had worked their way up towards Southern Rhodesia. When they eventually arrived there, three years later, they had known that this was where they would make their home, and put down their roots.