“Seth, my boy, you look miserable,” he said directly. Interrupting Seth as he tried to laugh off the comment, he aimed straight at the reason. “It’s a woman, isn’t it? I’ve seen that look before. What happened to that lovely Irish girl? Claire, was it?”
Seth, swallowing a mouthful of beer rather too quickly, explained about Claire’s aunt and the hurried departure from Zimbabwe.
Simon grunted. “If she were my girl, I’d have gone with her. I’m never going to understand what you think you’re up to these days, you know. Thinking about things too much, probably.”
Again, Seth tried to interject, but again Simon continued. If Seth wasn’t going to look after himself, he thought fiercely, he was the only one left to do it for him. “Look, I could see how taken you were with each other the night of Naomi’s birthday braai – it shouldn’t get more complicated than that.”
Now disagreeing heatedly, Seth answered, “Claire wasn’t – isn’t – my girl, Simon. She was a client, nothing more.”
Eyeing him knowingly, Simon cut to the chase. “Don’t be an idiot, Seth. I have eyes in my head, and anyone could see she thought of you as more than a friend. Why are you so dense when it comes to women, boy?”
Seth riled.
“Now don’t get uptight, Seth,” Simon pressed on. “I’m speaking as a friend. I know Carol was keen on you for a long time, but even I’ll say that she’s not the one for you. Now, Claire – she’s another thing altogether. And look at yourself, since she’s not been here! How could you let her get away, man?”
Seth had changed the subject unsubtly, and Simon had taken the hint. But, on the drive home, Seth had been plagued by images of Claire. Now he’d awoken in the middle of the night, aching for her. It’s been a year, he growled inwardly at himself. Won’t I ever get over her?
The weeks following Claire’s departure had passed in a haze of anger and pain for Seth. He’d found her image intruding on his thoughts constantly; everywhere he looked he saw evidence of her stay at Impunzi. The painting of Impunzi she’d given Naomi, for one, hung in the hallway. Naomi had walked in to find Seth staring at it one empty afternoon, and he hadn’t looked at it since then – by day. Claire haunted his days and nights. Unwillingly, he missed her like he would have missed an arm. His eye ached to catch just a glimpse of her, smiling, laughing, kissing him… even saying goodbye again. He’d been certain that ache would fade.
All year, though, Seth was perfectly aware, Naomi and Tony had watched him with concern. They’d soon realised that if either of them mentioned Claire’s name he flew into a rage. Seth hated that anger in himself. In her absence just as in her presence, he couldn’t handle the invisible cords with which Claire still bound him. What had been the point of his hurting her with indifference if he could never feel that indifference himself? Since making love to her – just that once, Seth berated himself – he could not get her out of his head. Angry at his craving for her, Seth had decided he had to get away for a while. Maybe if he left Impunzi for a couple of months, he’d thought, he’d get over this obsession.
So, two months after Claire’s rushed departure from Zimbabwe, Seth had boarded an aeroplane to America. Clients needed to be sourced, he told himself. He felt guilty about leaving Tony and Naomi to cope, but he simply needed to get away. He’d given them time off as soon as he’d returned to quench his remorse, but now he was suffering for it. Alone, Seth was convinced that he was going a little insane. He rolled over and tried to sleep again.
The next morning, unable to wake up properly, Seth asked Joseph to bring him some coffee as he carried a pile of mail from the hall to his office. Reading a few postcards from travelling friends first, he then started on his bank statements and plunged into the accounts. Lastly, with only a sip of coffee now left in the pot, he slit open a pale blue envelope that had been addressed by hand – in, he now realised, his sister’s handwriting.
A photo fell face-down onto the desktop. Lifting it, he read the three stark lines Naomi had written on the back: ‘Seth, this is a picture of Claire and Sebastian, taken during our stay with them. Sebastian is a little over three months old. Love always, Naomi’. Seth felt his face flush cold and his neck blush hot. Turning the photograph over with suddenly unsteady hands, he stared in stupor at the picture. Claire and a baby looked out at him. Gasping as the full realisation of what the photo showed struck him, Seth crossed the room in a trance. Locking the door, he sank down onto the rug. Then, astonishing even Seth, deep sobs filled the silence of the ranch. Claire had gone back to Ireland carrying his child, his son. His own flesh and blood. Seth did not hear Joseph knocking on the door, or calling out his name. In an agony of pain, he relived that night in Claire’s hotel room – remembered the callous way he had asked her if she were protected. How could you be so stupid?, he flung at himself. She was the one good thing that had come into his life, and he had treated her like a… a… Seth couldn’t bear to utter the truth, even to himself. He had sent her away, thinking he didn’t care. But he did – he did care for her, more than anything else in his life. Suddenly, hiding from love and commitment was no longer an option. He had to go to them: he had to go to Claire and the child they had created together. He had to beg her to forgive him. Looking at the photo again, Seth tenderly traced the line of her slender body, aching for her. Hoping that it was not too late to say he was sorry. That he loved her. Of course he loved her.
Dublin, Ireland
Claire and her aunt settled back into their peaceful routine after Naomi and Tony had left, with no way of knowing what was coming. Then one summer afternoon, leaving Sebastian for once with Aunt Ellen, Claire made a quick trip to town. She’d been desperate to spend some of the hard-earned money from her recent success, and now she had someone to spoil! She arrived home feeling radiant. Calling to Aunt Ellen as she maneuvered her shopping bags and pushed open the front door with her hip, though, Claire stopped dead, the smile wiped from her face.
Seth was sitting on the sofa, holding Sebastian in his arms. A look of total wonder animated his face.
The bags dropped from Claire’s arms. She ran across the room, feeling a compulsive need to take back her child.
Seth simply stood as she ran towards him and said, softly, “You don’t think I’d hurt him, Claire?” There were tears in Seth’s eyes.
Furious, in shock at finding him there, Claire found herself yelling, “Give me my baby, Seth! What do you want here? Why can’t you just leave us alone? Please…” Clutching Sebastian against her chest, she fought a losing battle against the tears that filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. But even now, Claire realized with horror at her own thoughts, even through her anger she felt more alive at sight of Seth. Through the tears he had caused, her eyes fluttered hungrily over him, taking in his broad-shouldered, slim-hipped body. She became quiet.
Aunt Ellen came into the room softly, placing a tray of tea on the centre table. She took Sebastian from Claire, saying, “Seth arrived just after you left, Claire. Let me take Sebastian so you can talk.”
Claire and Seth both watched their son leave the room in Aunt Ellen’s arms. Then, refusing to sit down, Claire asked Seth brokenly, “Why have you come, Seth? You don’t have to feel responsible for Sebastian. Oh please, please don’t come and mess up my life again. Please just go away, Seth. Please go…”
Unable to bear her distress, Seth knelt at her side and bent his head in supplication. He spoke in a deep, choked voice. “Claire, it’s so good to see you. I didn’t know about Sebastian until a week ago; Naomi sent me a photo,” taking the picture from his pocket, he showed it to her. “Thank you for such a beautiful son.”
Then, standing up, he turned away from her. His words tumbled from him. “I know I treated you very badly in Zimbabwe, and God knows I regret every day since you left. I just wasn’t capable of handling someone like you – the way you made me feel. I have no excuse for the way I behaved. I…”
Seth’s voice cracked but, drawing a deep breath, h
e continued. “Things happened when I was growing up that gave me a warped idea of life and love. When I saw that picture of you and Sebastian, none of it mattered anymore. I realised that I’d only been half alive since you left.” Swallowing deeply, Seth raised his face to the ceiling. Cords of muscle stood out on his neck as he said, softly, “What I’m trying to say is… I love you, Claire, and if you can ever forgive me I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you. I need you; you’re my other half.”
Before he could say another word, Claire ran to him. Sliding her arms around his waist, she buried her tear-stained face against his strong back. Her muffled voice reached him in the silence. “Seth, don’t play games, please. I barely survived your rejection last time; I don’t think I have the strength to go through that again.”
Turning, Seth caught her tightly in his arms, burying his face in her hair. She realised with a shock that he was crying. Lifting her hands to his face, she wiped the tears from his cheeks.
Looking at him through luminous eyes she whispered, “I love you, Seth Henderson.” Claire’s face cracked into a smile. “I couldn’t say that before, but I can say it now! I love you so much I ache. Please don’t ever leave me again.”
Melting inside at hearing the words he needed to hear the most, Seth hungrily took her lips in a deep, sensuous kiss that seemed to go on endlessly. Breaking contact for a moment, Seth looked deeply into Claire’s eyes. He needed to tell her.
“Claire, I prayed that you would forgive me. I prayed. I don’t know what that means, but it was the only thing that kept me going, flying out here. I’ve been confused and angry for a year, and then I saw our son and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I love you; I really love you. It makes the world seem bigger. I want to share my life with you. Claire, will you be my wife?”
Seeing his fear-filled eyes – recognising his fear of rejection, of desertion, for the first time – Claire answered quickly and sincerely. “Yes, Seth, I will be your wife.”
Taking her swollen lips in another drugging, healing kiss, Seth finally let himself trust.
Aunt Ellen knocked on the door. Clearing her throat loudly, twice, she made them aware of her presence. Holding Sebastian as he wriggled and fussed, she said, “So, have you two sorted yourselves out?” Claire beamed; Seth grinned. Aunt Ellen continued, satisfied, “Good. Well, Sebastian needs feeding.” She handed the struggling boy to Claire. “I guess it’s okay for me to say, ‘welcome to the family, Seth.’”
Later that evening, Seth and Claire telephoned Naomi and Tony. Telling Naomi firmly to ‘shut up’, Seth thanked her for interfering in their lives – and that his beautiful future wife, their gorgeous son and his doting great aunt would be coming home to Impunzi soon.
Later still, Sebastian’s parents settled him down for the night. Sitting close, Seth watched his son as Claire finished telling Shoko’s story to him.
“Hugging the little monkey in relief,” Claire read, “his mama told him, ‘We’re so glad you came back to us, Shoko. How did you find your way home?”
‘The baboon told me the truth!’ Shoko replied, swinging happily by his tail. ‘I found the trees behind the rocks and over the swamp.’
‘Baboon?!’ his mama screeched, in alarm.
‘Yep!’ said Shoko, fearlessly. ‘He may have been big and scary, but was so terrified of the snake behind him that he just ran away!’
Mama Monkey frowned.
‘Don’t worry, mama,’ Shoko promised. ‘I’ll never wander off again. And now we know, it’s okay to be scared sometimes – nothing’s so big that it isn’t afraid of something else!’”
Gently rubbing Sebastian’s dark head, Seth raised his eyes to meet Claire’s. Claire now read his heated gaze easily. Leaning towards him, she kissed him deeply, telling him without words everything she could hope to say. As Claire drifted off to sleep that night, she heard Seth whisper, half asleep, “Claire, I’ll never leave you. Thank you for giving me faith.” They were both sheltered and safe at last.
Zimbabwe, and Impunzi, waited for them to come home. Whatever future the country held for them, they knew that, as a family, they could face it head on.
END
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About The Author
Yvonne Cloete is a preschool teacher and author based in Johannesburg, South Africa, where she lives with her husband of thirty-one years, Michael. Together they have three children and three grandchildren. She grew up in Zimbabwe and lived there until 2002. Claire’s Prayer is her first novel.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Orchard Wall Publishing for their support in getting Claire’s Prayer published.
Special thanks also to my editor Hannah Kirby for her advice, guidance and suggestions.
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