by Ann Walker
Grant was the epitome of relaxation. Once we were in the van, he dispensed with his sweater, swapped his polished leather soles for comfy brown sandals, and had rolled the sleeves of his button-up shirt up to his elbows in that ridiculously sexy way… He was calm, cool, and collected. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, his arm thrown over the back of our bench-like seats, he wore his expensive sunglasses and a million-dollar smile. He was quick to laugh suddenly, which I discovered was a rather infectious trait.
The combination of my anxiety and excitement melded with his giddy positivity, sending both of us on a high as we bounced toward our rural village.
When it seemed we’d finally exhausted all of our questions about the environment, Henri went for the radio. I tried to hide my smile as he hummed along with some local tunes, bopping his hands on the steering wheel, and a quick peek at Grant told me he was also trying not to laugh. Now that I was out of the airport (all of them, and their tiny planes), having Grant working alongside me didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Sure, we had this awkward sexual history hovering over us now, but he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. He would certainly make the trip away from home easier.
“So what brings you out here?” I asked when he caught me staring at him, lost in my musings over what a nice guy he was. Damn it. I need to learn a bit of restraint or I’m going to be embarrassing myself a whole hell of a lot: it was difficult not to stare at Grant. “I mean, I know you’re volunteering just like me, but what motivated you to do it?”
Even his one-shouldered shrug was effortless. I nibbled my lower lip when he propped his sunglasses on top of his head, then swiveled in place to talk directly to me.
“I’ve been the head of my company for a number of years now,” he explained, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of the way the frizzy bits of my hair brushed against his fingers on the back of our seat. I shifted so that they wouldn’t touch anymore, and I could practically feel the butterflies’ wings droop. “I really wanted to find a way to give back that wasn’t just writing a check, you know? I mean, I specialize in agriculture and well drilling, and a friend of mine put me in touch with this organization, and I thought there was no better way to give back than to help people find a permanent solution to food shortages and clean water initiatives.”
The corners of his lips quirked upward ever-so-slightly when he undoubtedly noticed the way my mouth was hanging open and I quickly pressed my lips together. Sexy, funny, and community-oriented. Was this guy the total package or what?
“That’s… That’s amazing,” I told him, stammering a little as my face dissolved into a look of stunned disbelief. “I’ve worked in the corporate world for a long time, and I can’t think of any of the company heads I know who would give up their time and, well, money to do something like this.”
“The economy’s been good to me,” Grant insisted, seeming a little embarrassed about admitting it. “I’ve always wanted to do something meaningful with me life… Heading into business after my engineering degree isn’t exactly wandering the off the beaten path, you know? Volunteering gives me a chance to really help people and satisfy my innate need to travel. So, really, I’m a bit selfish.”
“Ha!” My single bout of laughter was so loud that Henri’s eyes darted up to the mirror in surprise. My cheeks colored, warming to the touch, and I cleared my throat. “Hardly selfish. I volunteered because I needed an escape… So, if we’re talking selfish, then you’re looking right at her.”
I gestured to myself as Grant laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling in a way that suggested he’d be riddled with laugh-lines when he was older. Cute.
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad,” he stated, raising an eyebrow at me. “What are you escaping from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Now it was my turn to shrug. What harm would it do to spill some of my more shameful secrets to the handsome stranger I’d had a one-night stand with? He didn’t strike me as the judgmental type, but I couldn’t say the same for Henri, who I’m sure was listening intently from the front seat.
“I got fired from my corporate PR job,” I told him after a moment’s hesitation. He gave me a knowing nod, his eyes kind, and I felt some of my fears fade. It had been hard to tell people I’d been fired. I mean, everyone wants to hear a good quitting story, but when you were forced to leave, when it wasn’t your idea to become unemployed, everyone gets weird about it. “I guess I just needed a break from everything. I wanted to do some good for others, since our company was the farthest thing from charitable, and I wanted to travel a bit too… So, really, if anyone’s selfish, it’s me.”
We hit a particularly rough pothole suddenly, and I let out an undignified squeal. Henri laughed from the front seat, and I felt my blush worsening. It had been a long time since I’d seen any signs of civilization on either side of the van, much less another vehicle. The road had gone from mostly to sparsely paved, with the bright red dirt taking up the majority of the lane. The scenery hadn’t changed: still beautiful.
“In my experience,” Grant told me quietly, leaning in as if to share a precious secret. “People volunteer for their own reasons. You’re far from selfish, Clara.”
I tried not to shiver at the way he said my name, and we both exchanged somewhat shy smiles. Before I said something to make an even bigger idiot of myself, I turned away and busied myself with the landscape. There was always something to look at beyond the window pane. Chatting about trees was safe, easy. Pointing out monkeys and birds and the occasional gazelle-like creature was fun—and less dangerous than failed jobs and selfishness. He didn’t need to lean in close to me in order to chat about our surroundings.
Though I wished he did.
****
“Those are officially the coolest houses I’ve ever seen,” I informed my fellow van riders, pointing at a cluster of round, but oddly tall, mud huts with straw roofing. Henri chuckled, and I noticed Grant smiling at me, but not in a way as if to humor me. I felt secure in my giddiness, my sense of wonder, and it was a miracle the van’s window wasn’t covered with my nose prints as I strained to keep the cluster of houses in sight.
“You’ll have one of your own while you’re here,” Henri told me. We’d slowed since entering the village limits, and I could have sworn I’d seen a few curious faces poke out of the scattered buildings as we passed. “It will be on the other side of the establishment with the rest of the volunteers. Smaller than those… those are for families.”
Past the first cluster of small homes, we entered into what I could only assume was the central meeting place of the village. With the sun still high in the sky, people moved to and fro, many of them women, carrying long branches and baskets of plants with them. The children clustered around the van, tapping on the windows and smiling, and when I waved back, many turned to their neighbor and laughed. There were no frowns, no narrowed looks. It seemed they were all accustomed to volunteers cycling in and out, and I’m sure Henri’s white van was a familiar sight.
“I guess this is it,” I heard Grant murmur, and when I tore my eyes from the kids, I found him fiddling with his sunglasses, a hesitant smile on his lips. Without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand on his knee, giving it what I hoped would be a reassuring squeeze. Then, without waiting for his response, I popped open the door and slid out. It was easy to forget about Grant in the heat of the moment, and I soon found myself engulfed in a sea of children. They tugged at my shorts, my hands, and my backpack straps. My knee-jerk reaction was to
tense up and hope none of them had picked my pocket, so imagine my surprise when I learned all they wanted was a hug.
That was something I could happily and freely oblige. Some were shirtless, while the rest were dressed. Their clothing styles were a decade or two behind the American norm. One little girl with red barrettes simply stood beside me and held my hand, her finger in her mouth, she would only look at me if I wasn’t looking at her—or so she thought, but I noticed her in my peripherals.
The kids scattered, however, when Henri waved them away. He spoke to them in rapid French, and most of the kids took off running and giggling. My little red barrette girl lingered, only letting go of my hands when Henri crouched down and spoke in soft, gentle French. She nodded, her fingers still in her mouth, and stumbled off after the rest of them without a word to me.
“You will learn to set boundaries with them,” he told me, his accent a little stronger as he transitioned back to English. “They’ll take up every second of your time if you let them.”
“I don’t mind,” I assured him, adrenaline pumping through me. Grant had found his way around to our side of the van, his laptop bag strap resting securely across his broad chest. “They seem sweet.”
“Remember you will be teaching them,” he continued, almost chastising me. “They must respect you and your space.”
“Do they only speak French?” Grant inquired, asking the question I’d been thinking. Henri shook his head, and I noticed the people around us continued on with their day—apparently the arrival of new volunteers only warranted unrestrained excitement from the kids.
“They speak decent English too,” Henri told us. “Miss Clara here will be responsible for furthering their education… We’d like them to be able to move on and find jobs elsewhere, and being trilingual will only make them more appealing.”
“Makes sense,” I noted, and I suddenly found myself wishing I spoke French. I’d been able to have a mediocre conversation in Spanish up until my college years, and then I lost any and all language skills through lack of use. Maybe brushing up on languages could be my goal after volunteering, but first I should focus on the present.
“Why don’t I show you to your respective homes?” Henri suggested. We grabbed our bags from the back of the van, then followed him through the village. The red-brown dirt carried on from the main road, coating my shoes and painting my socks.
Beyond the fields of crop and cattle sat eight little round houses, similar to the ones we’d seen on the way in. They were built strictly for volunteers, we were told, as a means to give us some privacy and space from the rest of the village.
“Many love working with the community here, but it can be tough at first for some,” Henri informed me as we stood to admire the sun-dried mud—the round walls without a single crack—and straw roofs. “We built the dormitories here specifically to be separate… I’m told it’s nice to have a place to recuperate sometimes.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Wouldn’t it make more sense to put us in the thick of the village? We’d definitely make friends with everyone faster if we weren’t so far away. Still, when I looked over my shoulder, sweat starting to trickle down from my hairline and across my face, I noted that we weren’t terribly far from everyone. The village itself sat squarely on the other side of the plots of farmland and livestock, and I could see a few buildings that weren’t houses, but their condition wasn’t as pristine as our volunteer huts.
“Why don’t you get settled in?” Henri touched my arm gently to draw my attention back to him. “There will be a big feast tonight to welcome you, and you can meet with the rest of the volunteers then.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Grant told him, and I nodded my shared sentiment. Suddenly, my bags felt really heavy. My feet seemed to sink into the ground, and all I wanted to do was shut myself in a dimly lit room somewhere and take a few deep breaths.
“Let’s see, Grant we have you in bunk one,” Henri said, conferring with something on his phone and pointing to the little house at the end of the row, “and Clara we have you in bunk five.”
He gestured to the one directly in front of us, and I tried not to let my disappointment show over the fact that we were so far away from each other.
I shook my head. Buck up, Clara. You’re here to volunteer, not mope like some high school kid because you aren’t sitting next to the guy you like.
Wait. Not like. Well like, but not like like.
Uh oh.
I squared my shoulders and pressed forward, determined not to let some strange guy I barely knew dictate what I got out of this volunteer experience. Still, as I strolled toward my new home for the next six months, my skin prickled. I could practically feel Grant staring holes into the back of my head, and the feeling didn’t go away, not even when I’d opened the wooden door and slipped inside.
Chapter Ten
“So how was the flight over? It’s always my least favorite part about volunteering.”
I held my hand over my mouth, which was full of food, then gave a quick nod. Yes, I agree, flying is terrible. The woman beside me smiled, obviously pleased we’d bonded over something, and then pushed some of her pita bread into the light brown mush that had a similar texture to hummus. Once I’d swallowed my mouthful, I added more to the sentiment, “I was happy once I had both feet on the ground for more than five minutes, that’s for sure.”
“Well, this place will definitely ground you,” she told me. “Herb and I have been here for almost eight months, and it’s the best place we’ve been yet.”
I nodded again, in no position to doubt the claim. “That’s great.”
And you know what? I don’t think there’s any reason to doubt it. I’d only been there a couple of hours, and the queasy, nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach was finally starting to fade. Sure, I still felt out of place. Even standing next to Grant and Henri when we’d met with the other volunteers before dinner, it was like I shouldn’t be there, like my vibe was throwing off the flow of the whole village.
That was crazy talk, of course. No one scowled at me, local or volunteer. No one seemed annoyed by my presence. In fact, everyone I’d met had been spectacularly welcoming—or so I assumed, given I didn’t speak French. Some of the locals, mostly the younger generation, were eager to test out their English on me, but the elders, fluent in French and Kabiyé, were still a mystery.
“I’m sure we’ll find a way to communicate,” Grant had mused pleasantly. That was the last thing he’d said to me before we were swept off for our evening meal. Seated in a great circle around a roaring bonfire, my evening meal consisted of pita bread, shaved beef, my hummus-like mush, and dusty greens that tasted extremely bitter. The food was plentiful, with plates and bowls continuously making their way around the circle. Closer to the fire, clusters of children sat together, their parents and family watching on from the outer ring.
It surprised me that no one stepped in when the kids had added things to the fire. Every so often, a little one would grab a stick or rock and add it to the flames. Back home, someone would have charged the youngster and dragged him or her away, images of burning toddler flashing across the worried relative’s mind. But not here. The kids were left to their own devices—or so I’d been informed, anyway.
My dinner companion was one of the other volunteers. Gloria, a retired British primary school teacher, had ventured to the village some eight months ago with her husband Herb. They’d apparently wanted to do some traveling before they settled in to a blissful retirement in their cozy English hamlet, and volunteering around the globe had seemed like the most meaningful way to do it. Gloria was chatty and bold, while her husband sat beside her, enthralled by the fire, eating every so often, his bare feet buried in the red dirt.
Two college kids were also volunteering. Tim and Barry were from Canada, and while I was here to teach English, they were here to work on mathematics and basic science with the kids.
Which, to be honest, was a major relief. I’d never been very strong in either subject.
And then there was Grant. Unlike the rest of the adults, he’d somehow found himself seated amongst the kids inside the circle. With his ceramic plate on his lap, he leaned in as one of the little girls beside him whispered in his ear, then tilted his head back in laughter.
“Did you two know each other before coming here?” Gloria inquired, and I suddenly realized I was smiling along with him. I cleared my throa
t and shook my head, embarrassed to have been caught staring.
“Just briefly on the plane. It was kind of a nice surprise that we ended up in the same place.” I wasn’t about to reveal our recent sexual escapades to the white-haired woman next to me. Gloria studied me for a moment, the twinkle of flames reflecting in her eyes, and then smirked.
“Ah, I see.”
A clamor broke out amongst the children, punctuated by the sudden appearance of drums. Then, much to my surprise, song arose from the outer circle of adults, Herb clapping along with the drum beats.
“I left corporate America and all its politics to come here,” I told Gloria, leaning in close so she could hear me over the swelling music. Much to my delight, a few kids had dragged Henri out of his seat and were encouraging him to dance with them. Grant too bobbed awkwardly in front of the fire. The music quickened. Gloria caught me staring at him again—I could tell by the devious little grin on her lips what she was thinking. “I’m not interested in hopping back into that world while I’m here, if you get my drift.”
There. That ought to keep her satisfied.
Unfortunately, I must not have sounded very convincing, because she certainly didn’t look like she believed me. “Of course, dear.”
“Really—”
Before I could get my protest out, a strong hand wrapped around my arm. I flinched, surprised, and soon found myself staring up at Grant’s shadowy features. He wore a playful grin, and a nod toward the fire told me exactly what he wanted.
Dance with me.
“But I…” I trailed off, my voice losing its fight. Oh, what the heck. One more night of flirting couldn’t hurt anyone. I’d start fresh tomorrow. I’d focus tomorrow.
I swear I will.
Really.
All thoughts of concentration and focus vanished when his fingers laced through mine, and, surrounded by steady drumbeats and giggling children, we celebrated our first night in Togo, unable to leave each other’s side.