Luke… he had not thought about his brother for a long time now. He had locked Luke’s memory deep inside his heart, but recently he’d had a far harder time keeping the door closed. As clear as if it were yesterday, as he hammered and weeded and dug, Seth replayed the last day of his brother’s life. It was the school holidays and they had got up really early. For Christmas, Dad and Mom had given him and Luke dirt bikes: Luke’s had been blue and his had been red. They were so excited that morning – with lunches packed by Joseph, their co-conspirator, they had set off for a day of unsupervised fun. Everything had been a competition with them; Luke was only thirteen months older than Seth, and already Seth was growing taller than him. It had been a great day and only when sunburned, tired and thirsty had they begun making their way back to the ranch house. We should’ve come back by road, Seth thought for the millionth time. They hadn’t; they’d gone back cross-country. By that route, a couple of kilometres from home, there was another kopje, craggier and more isolated than that in their grounds. Seth could picture exactly Luke’s smiling face as he’d shouted above the whining of the bike engines, “Hey, Seth – bet I can get to the top of the kopje before you!”
Even now Seth’s fists clenched, as if he could change what happened next. Revving his motor he’d headed straight for the outcrop, but Luke had a head start. Without his big brother’s speed, Seth realised soon enough he didn’t have a chance of beating him this time, and cut his engine. But he was closer, and could see the kopje better now. It was too steep.
Looking up, he’d watched in horror as Luke’s front tyre smacked into the kopje’s base and the bike had started to speed up the almost sheer rock. For a moment – one glorious, shining moment – it looked like Luke would make it all the way up. And then, in slow motion, Seth’s mind played back the seconds that his brother’s bike tipped back and he fell. Luke landed awkwardly, head first, the bike coming down on top of him with a sickening crunch against the dirt. Dropping his own bike in an instant, Seth ran to him. Pulling him free of the twisted metal, he noticed that Luke was not moving. He shook him, imploring him to open his eyes and speak to him.
He had no idea how long he’d knelt on the ground cradling his brother’s lifeless body, tears streaming down his dusty cheeks. He did not remember riding to the house, or screaming for his dad. At fifteen, Luke had broken his neck and died. Seth never rode again, and for months both dirt bikes had stood side-by-side in the garage. Then, one day, he noticed they were gone, and Seth had imagined that that was his parents’ way of closing the conversation. He hadn’t spoken about Luke since then.
With images of his laughing, daredevil brother clear in his mind’s eye and the sound of his Grandpa’s booming laugh in his heart, Seth slammed the final fence-post into the ground by the end-most lodge. Then Tony came around the corner in front of him and held out a cup of coffee.
“You look beat up, Seth!” he cried cheerfully. “Sit down and drink this. We’ll have to clean ourselves up soon enough, or the girls’ll turn right ’round again and head back to the Falls!”
Seth took the proffered mug as Tony disappeared back towards the house, and sat heavily on the lodge steps. In his distraction he’d managed, for a few hours, to drive Claire from his mind. Or had he? Seth realized that he’d only been reliving the past since she’d arrived: that it was somehow she who brought all this quashed pain to the surface. He resented it – but couldn’t stop. It was like he was scratching an itch until it bled.
He’d been reluctant to admit the full effect that her arrival had had on him. She used none of the obvious charms women used to attract a man’s attention, yet attract him she certainly did. Her stark contrast with Carol, back after so long, had underscored that point. Seth could barely believe that at one time, however briefly, he had actually considered marriage to Carol. He had resigned himself to not finding a ‘soulmate’ as Tony had, and knew that Carol was used to living on a ranch – and that she was likely to keep him… entertained. Thank goodness she had gone away. In her absence, Seth had come to realise that, as important as the physical side of a relationship was, it was not the most important factor – and no grounding for a life together. Physical satisfaction alone was no longer enough for him; astonished with himself, he found he needed something more. Maybe it came with maturity, this desire for more than physical satisfaction: something deeper, more meaningful. He would have to look out for someone who, like Carol, knew his way of life – but who could also know and penetrate the turns of his mind.
He’d come to this realisation partly through his new aversion to Carol, but it had taken hold of him while he’d listened, mind whirring, as Tony had asked him for Naomi’s hand in marriage a week ago. Despite everything, he’d not seen it coming. He’d felt… he wasn’t quite sure. Happy for Naomi, and confident in Tony, yes… but also oddly resentful. Of course Seth had laughingly wished Tony the best of luck with his headstrong sister, and made it clear that there would be no objections from him. For some time now, he’d watched the understanding and intimacy grow between them, and felt grateful that Naomi had found someone who had helped her heal her grief so completely. But he had now realised: he’d never been healed. He’d never properly grieved for any of them; not Luke, his grandparents or his parents.
The Victoria Falls Hotel
The sudden ringing of the telephone dragged Claire out of a deep sleep. Forcing her eyes open, she recalled in a flash that it was her early wake-up from reception. She snatched the handset from its cradle before the noise could disturb Naomi. Dressing quickly and quietly so as not to rouse the unconscious and invisible girl under the bedclothes, she collected her sketch pad and watercolours and left the room.
The sky had already changed from inky black to mottled shades of orange and grey, and a gentle breeze whistled softly through the treetops. A cacophony of bird calls filled the morning stillness as Claire made her way to the gorge. For the next hour, she was oblivious to everything: her eyes darting from the picturesque sunrise to her paper, she deftly captured the changing colours of the sunrise on the line drawings she’d already made. All too soon, the sun had risen clear of the craggy gorge and over the trees, and millions of droplets of diamond-clear water sparkled in welcome of the dawn. Suddenly, as if by some strange inner signal, animals and people alike awoke, and a new day began.
Shivering slightly, Claire made her way back to the hotel. She was glad she’d made the effort. Sunrise somehow cast a brighter light on everything, and her heart sang as she passed the lifts and ran up the stairs. She knew that, in just a few hours more, she would be seeing Seth again. Claire had vowed to take a leaf out of Naomi’s book: she would talk to him, properly and openly, and find out once and for all what he wanted from her. Her whole body tensed in anticipation.
Opening the door quietly, Claire peeked around it. Naomi was sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her bent legs, her still-groggy head resting on her knees.
“Naomi, you’re up!” Claire chirruped. “Isn’t it a glorious day?”
Claire’s enthusiastic greeting caused Naomi to jump. Seeing the flush on Claire’s cheeks and the sparkle of happiness in her eyes, Naomi could not help but grin back. Yes, it was indeed a lovely day: it was the day she would see the man she could call her fiancé for the first time!
Both giving in to the urgency of getting back to Impunzi, Naomi and Claire packed in record time and were the first ones down in the breakfast room. By half-past eight, they had checked out and were on their way. Too emotionally keyed-up to talk, both seemed grateful for the drone of the radio.
Naomi, laughingly, had said she felt butterflies, but Claire’s stomach knotted in apprehension. Her need to see Seth was a strong compulsion within her, but she knew she had to keep her head if she were to get it straightened out. Yet the very strength of her need frightened her. Why he, of all men, struck such chords of longing in her, she could not for the life of her comprehend. Realising how tense she was, and how quickly she was breathing, she for
ced herself to unclench her hands.
Impunzi
Since downing his coffee and showering, Seth had prowled restlessly around the house. He wondered what time Naomi was planning to arrive back, and why she hadn’t telephoned to let him know. He wondered, too, if the desire he felt for Claire was not just something he had blown out of all proportion. Hating not knowing, Seth gave in to the urge and called the hotel. Asking to speak to Naomi Henderson, he was told that the two ladies booked into her room had checked out shortly after eight o’clock. Estimating the time they should be home, he asked Joseph to make them all some lunch.
As Seth heard the clink of plates being laid on the dining table, he also heard the BMW’s approach. He strode out of the house. Standing still and silent, Seth watched their approach. Ignoring the dust, he stared searchingly through the haze until, unerringly, his eyes met Claire’s. Although metres of space separated them as she stepped out of the car, he felt as if someone had totally winded him. Her chest rising and falling, Claire met his gaze boldly, her eyes mutely expressing a longing that seemed to match his own. Her tongue slipped out to lick suddenly-dry lips and Seth inhaled sharply, eyes fastened on her mouth. His stomach knotted and his chest tightened, causing almost physical pain. The banging of Naomi’s door broke the intense physical communication between them and, feeling yet again the urge to strangle his sister, Seth greeted her gruffly instead.
“Naomi, why didn’t you phone and let me know how things were going, eh? You can’t just disappear for four days without a word to anyone.”
Grinning at him and totally unconcerned by his anger, Naomi answered, “Hello to you too, brother dear.” She continued, teasing him. “Oh, yes thanks – the trip was lovely… and, as you can see, Claire and I are still in one piece!” She narrowed her eyes at Seth. “Anyway, I did keep in touch. Tony knew how things were going – why didn’t you ask him?”
Claire was trying to control her ragged breathing and somehow stay on her unsteady legs as Naomi made light of their absence. She avoided Seth’s eyes, refusing to meet his penetrating gaze. This man was absolutely dangerous. Her mind screamed out warning signals, but her body craved him, like a man lost in the desert craves water. She told herself over and over again: she had to talk sensibly to him; they needed to talk. She needed to know if he wanted the same thing as her. She needed to know that he respected her. She needed…
Willing her to meet his gaze, Seth felt like shaking Claire violently, and forcing her to acknowledge the tide of desire that flowed like electricity between them. He wanted to pick her up in his arms and carry her inside, upstairs to his room, and try to assuage the gnawing hunger in his gut. He wanted her, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life before.
Suddenly, Naomi took off at a run. Raising startled eyes, Claire could not help the smile that tilted the corners of her mouth. Tony had appeared, and Naomi ran eagerly into his waiting arms. Oblivious to Seth and Claire, the two kissed tenderly. If only… thought Claire.
Fighting a losing battle against his wayward emotions, Seth stepped forward and brought his body into closer contact with Claire’s. Although he wasn’t holding her, they both stood helpless against the driving emotions that bound them. Almost unconsciously, Claire rubbed her cheek against the cotton of Seth’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric, and hearing his heartbeats pound in echo with her own.
Seth’s husky voice reached her: “Claire, look at me. Look at me.”
Unable to deny his hoarse plea, Claire’s eyes met and clung to his. She felt raw and exposed by the ferocious desire that gripped her.
She felt his warm breath tickle her ear. He’s about to tell me, Claire thought. He had to feel the same; he had to…
Seth whispered, “I want you, Claire. I can’t deny these feelings any longer. Let me… Just make love to you. Then this ridiculous stress between us will go away.”
Claire reeled.
Pulling away from him as if stung, She glared up wildly. How could I have been so stupid? Seth Henderson was interested only in what every other stupid, heathen viper wanted. Claire was furious that she could possibly have thought otherwise.
“You keep away from me, Seth Henderson – do you hear?” she flung at him. “I don’t do… I don’t do that!” Her voice lowered to a hiss. “Don’t even talk to me again.”
Eluding his reaching hands, Claire frantically ran off. Reaching her lodge, shaken and out of breath, she let herself in and latched the door. Throwing herself onto the bed, she gave in to her distraught feelings and wept wildly for a long time. As the well of tears within her died, so the deep ache in her body dulled.
For a long time she lay, puffy eyed, talking to God and questioning her own mind. She was fractionally less angry at Seth, now, than with herself. How could Seth think that having sex would kill the feelings between them? But how could she have thought better of him? She did not know what type of women he had known before, but the idea that he could mistake her for anyone like that…
This had to be the turning point for them. Claire had been brought up to believe that the act of love was sacred, to be enjoyed and shared in the sanctity of marriage. She could understand that others might not share her beliefs, but not to understand them… Not even to know them… She shuddered as her mind, and body, recalled how they had responded in Seth’s arms. Jerking upright as a knock sounded at the door, Claire sent up a desperate prayer asking for anyone but Seth to be outside.
Joseph greeted her cheerfully, although his dark, sympathetic eyes lingered on Claire’s still-red ones. Claire hurried to help him: in one hand he balanced her covered lunch tray, while the other clutched her suitcase and handbag. Thanking him, and depositing her bags in her room, Claire took the tray and sat down under the shady tree that had inspired Shoko. She picked listlessly at her lunch. Quickly giving up the pretence of eating, she instead moved back into the lodge, unpacked her suitcase and arranged her sketches – all but one – around the walls. Trying to pull herself together, she sat down to write a breezy letter to Aunt Ellen. Reading through it half an hour later, Claire was satisfied that she had done a good imitation of someone who was fine. She had almost convinced even herself. Feeling utterly drained, Claire lay on her bed and pulled the covers over herself.
What concerned her most – what lingered in the back of her mind and in the pit of her stomach with a ragged, aching gnaw – was her knowledge that a part of her, a small part but a real one, had wanted to say ‘yes’ to Seth. The physical attraction between them was so strong. She knew that the real source of her fury had been that, honestly, she did not know if she could control herself around him any longer. Why aren’t you helping me?! she screamed in prayer and in tears, and resented herself still more for the accusation.
Chapter Twelve
Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.
(Solomon 9:10)
Far removed from Claire’s distress, Naomi spent the afternoon driving around the ranch with Tony. There was a new intimacy between them, and Naomi vowed silently to herself that she would keep the lines of communication open between them. Tony’d been so ready to talk about the important things – the subjects she had been avoiding in order, she thought, to spare him hurt – that Naomi had realised it had been she, and only she, who’d built them up into a problem. That day at Victoria Falls, she’d told him with no uncertainty what he meant to her and he, in turn, had banished her doubts about his love for her. Quietly, he’d told her everything – everything he could – about his late wife and child. About their Sunday-morning pancakes and their arguments alike; about everything he still missed and, conversely, everything he’d learned he loved about his own life only in the most recent years. Naomi felt the pain of his loss almost as keenly as he must have felt it all those years ago, but believed Tony unequivocally when he said he felt the past was the past, and life went on: time waits for no man – or woman. Tony’s tender, sombre love for the woman and child who’d been his f
amily was, Naomi could see, as much a part of him as her love for her parents… but love, she’d realised, wasn’t a commodity to be budgeted out. Tony had more than enough left to fill the rest of her life. She, in turn, adored this strong, feeling man. He was her rock, her anchor in a life of endless ups and downs.
As Naomi placed her hand on his knee in the Jeep, Tony felt the subtle warmth of her touch. Turning to meet her gaze, he felt himself drowning in its depths. Naomi’s love shone out of her like a beacon. Stepping on the brake, he slowed the Jeep to a stop. He pulled her into his sheltering arms, and her whispered ‘I love you’ was crushed against his mouth. For a long time, a profound silence reigned.
Cradled on Tony’s lap, Naomi felt like all the torrents and vicissitudes of her emotions (her doubt, her insecurity) had been replaced by a deep calm. Held there in complete security, and without over-thinking the impulse, Naomi closed her eyes and whispered a prayer – just as she had seen Claire do so many times. She thanked God for bringing this gentle man into her life, and asked everything she could for their future. Naomi opened her eyes and wondered at the deep sense of peace she felt. Maybe praying did make a difference. She vowed to do it more often.
Eventually, Tony insisted they drive back. Naomi, reluctant to be far from him, cuddled up tightly against his side. With his left arm holding her securely, Tony returned them to the house. Naomi sighed in contentment. She had nothing left to worry about.
Seth, meanwhile, had spent a frustrating afternoon at the dairy. His efforts to take stock and organise the ordering of feed did not keep his buzzing thoughts from dwelling on Claire and the look of devastation he’d seen in her eyes. He felt a stab of guilt every time he recalled the brutal bluntness of his words to her. He had never meant to say that – sure, he’d thought it once or twice, but actually to say those words out loud, to her? He had no idea what he’d been thinking. He hadn’t been thinking; he’d just let his body drive his mind. One thing was for sure: he could never have expected Claire to have reacted otherwise. Why can’t she just see it the way it should be, Seth fumed; why can’t she just go with her emotions? But as soon as he’d thought the question, he answered it: Because then she wouldn’t be Claire.
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