Guide My Heart

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Guide My Heart Page 6

by Caroline Swart


  The two were obviously fighting, and I didn’t want to get in the middle of their argument. Meghan didn’t have the same concerns, and if I didn’t keep a tight hold on her belt hoops, she would have joined them already. I moved back to avoid being seen.

  “Oh no.” Meghan shook her head as the Christmas lights flickered in colorful patterns against her shiny hair.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Milla, she’s at the entrance. Sarie is going to flatten her if she doesn’t look where she’s going. If we were in a movie, Milla could use her gun and a chain for protection.”

  “Huh?” I stared at my friend in confusion.

  Without taking her eyes from the scene, she sighed. “How can you not know the white-corridor fight scene? I swear, I’m renting Resident Evil when we get back home. And you’re watching every bit of it with me.”

  “Shut up and keep looking,” I hissed as the argument continued.

  A throat cleared behind us, and I froze as someone whispered, “Can we join your surveillance, or is this a closed operation?”

  I glanced around to find two guys behind us, both dressed in faded jeans and tight-fitting T-shirts. The one nearest me had honey-blond hair cropped close to his head. Tattoos covered his forearms, and his green eyes twinkled in amusement.

  “Hi, I’m Hugo.” Extending his hand, he grinned. “But my friends called me Huge.”

  Meghan let out a little hum of appreciation as she rose from her crouch.

  “This is my brother, Leon.” He gestured with a raised thumb.

  Leon was shorter than Hugo by an inch, but the two shared the same eye color. With dark blond hair and a grim look on his face, he seemed more serious than his brother.

  “Hi.” Trying to keep the sheepish tone from my voice, I shook his hand. “I’m Britney, and this is my friend Meghan.”

  Hugo stared at our joined hands for a second. “So, you’re the one.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Raising my wrist, he smiled. “The missing link in our chain.”

  The scowl on his brother’s face disappeared as he moved closer to inspect my birthmark, and I tugged my hand away.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Meghan acted like a mother hen, pushing me behind her. “Hey, there. Nice to meet you.”

  “Hi, I hope we weren't interrupting anything,” Hugo’s eyes twinkled as he greeted her.

  “No, we were looking for the artist’s name on the elephant. It’s a really nice carving,” she said with a practiced deadpan.

  Leon’s brows drew closer as he stared at her. She was a terrible actress and I couldn’t face her without laughing, so I kept my gaze on the ground for a second.

  “I believe you have sisters.”

  My head whipped up at Hugo’s unexpected statement. “What do you know about my sisters?”

  “Relax, bokkie.” He grinned. “Chris is our cousin. He told us about your family in New York.”

  “Oh.” I folded my arms over my chest. “They aren’t here. Why do you want to know what they look like?”

  The brothers glanced at each other before Leon answered.

  “Chris said you were searching for your mother’s family, so we wanted to know if you looked alike.” He rubbed his nose as he spoke, which made me think he was lying. Stupid guys—they probably thought they’d get lucky if my sisters were on vacation too.

  They certainly seemed happy when I said, “We all have the same coloring and height.”

  With all the commotion of meeting the two brothers, I realized the lobby had gone quiet. Looking at the reception desk, I sighed. Chris, Milla, and Sarie had left. We were alone with the staff and the two hunks who’d caught us eavesdropping. I stared longingly at the lodge’s entrance, wondering if Chris was outside with Milla.

  “Have you girls had a chance to visit the sangoma yet?” Hugo asked, dragging me back to the conversation.

  “No. I don’t even know what a sangoma is,” Meghan said, stumbling over the word.

  “You’re kidding. Hasn’t Chris taken you to our village?”

  “Um, no.” Her brow winged up in curiosity.

  “Then this is your lucky day.” Motioning for us to join him, he walked over to the receptionists.

  “David.” Hugo grinned, high-fiving the driver we’d met on the first game drive. “We’d like to take these two beautiful ladies to the village. Do you have time for another tour?”

  “Hang on.” I held up a hand. “I don’t want to visit the village.”

  Meghan huffed. “Come on, Brit.” Tugging my arm, she pulled me toward the lobby desk. “I’d like to see a bit more of Africa before our vacation is over.”

  “What about the talk I wanted to have—with someone.” My eyes bulged with an I don’t want to go look.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, waving away my concern. “We’ve got all day to find him.”

  “But we can’t leave with two strangers. We don’t know these guys at all.”

  Meghan stopped short, causing me to bump against her back. Her lips firmed while she crossed her arms to glare at me.

  Trying to argue with her when her mind was set was futile. She always won. And no matter how I tried to convince her, we ended up visiting the small African village about a mile from the game lodge anyway.

  “You know I didn’t want to leave without speaking to Chris,” I hissed at her as the vehicle turned onto the gravel road outside the village.

  “You’re way too tense.” Meghan patted my arm. Giving Hugo a happy grin, she turned to wink at me. “Relax and enjoy the trip.”

  My bad mood eased as David stopped the Jeep in front of one of the circular huts. The village was incredible. All of the hut walls were wattled and daubed with a clay-like material while clumps of grass, bleached by the sun, covered the roofs with an untidy fringe. Goats and chickens wandered freely, and small children hooted with laughter as they chased one another across the dusty ground.

  Leon proved to be a gentleman when he helped me exit the vehicle, but Meghan didn’t wait for Hugo. She jumped out before he could help her.

  Once on the ground, I placed my hands on my hips and stared at the rural scene. This was the Africa I’d wanted to see. This was the non-commercial, traditional village I’d watched in countless National Geographic documentaries, where dark-skinned natives wore mismatched clothing and young teenagers carried plastic buckets of water on their heads. Older woman chatted with babes swaddled around their waists, and cows plodded past our car without a care.

  “What do you think?” Hugo’s voice startled me out of my reverie.

  “Amazing.” I couldn’t find words to describe the scene.

  “I thought you’d like it.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “This village is almost the same as when our forefathers first found it.”

  As he spoke, a little boy rolled a wire car in front of us. It was made from old fencing and chopped-up soda cans.

  “Almost.” I smirked. “I’m not sure they had soft drinks back then.”

  Laughing, Hugo pointed toward the door of the hut. “Let’s say hello to the sangoma. She’s excited to meet you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Zandi is the village mother. Chris spent most of his childhood here, and Leon and I know every inhabitant. She loves the lodge’s guests. It would be rude of us not to introduce you.”

  Meghan was chasing after a baby goat, and she clearly wasn’t interested in anything or anyone else, so I left her behind as I followed him into the darkened hut.

  Inside, a host of smells attacked my nose. Moist clay, old smoky coals, dried leaves, spiced meat. The scents were sharp and unfamiliar. Without thinking, I pressed a strand of hair to my nose, wondering if the aroma would cling to it.

  “Molo, inyanga.” Hugo nodded at someone in the cool room.

  A tiny figure rose from a chair and walked over to greet us. Smiling, the woman reached out to me. Her dark skin was unwrinkled, and her lips were plump and shiny. Obsidian
eyes stared at me as her braids swayed around her face.

  “Molo, ingonyamakazi.”

  “What is she saying?” I whispered to Hugo as I clasped her hand.

  “She called you lioness and said hello.”

  “Hey.” I gave her hand a quick shake and released it. “Tell her I say hello, and thank her for allowing us to visit.”

  “You’re welcome.” The tiny woman spoke in perfect English, her white teeth lighting up her face.

  Smart move, Brit. “I’m sorry. I thought you couldn’t understand me.”

  “No, don’t apologize. A lot of the villagers would battle to understand your accent, but we’ve all had schooling. I have a grade-twelve certificate,” she said proudly.

  As she spoke, my eyes began to adjust to the gloomy room. “This is a lovely place.” I waved at the furniture placed against the curved walls. Her TV sat on a solid coffee table in the center.

  “Thank you. Mr. de Lange organized solar panels, so we’ve got electricity as well as the Internet.”

  Ouch. The National Geographic fantasy I’d built over the years crumbled to dust in my mind.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “At least let me throw the bones for you,” she said, pointing to a small reed mat in the corner.

  I shrugged and turned to Hugo for help.

  His lips curved into a conspiratorial smile. “Zandi is a fortune-teller. Besides helping the villagers with herbs and potions, she throws animal bones to read your future.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course,” I mumbled. Following her, I watched as she sat down on the mat and dug into a wooden box.

  With hunched shoulders, she lifted a cloth bag, said a few words against the material, and shook it open. Scattering the contents over the mat, she held her dark fingers just above an array of shells, dried bone, a claw, and dice that had fallen on the floor.

  “Sit.” Her voice was quiet and commanding.

  I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath as I tried to squat next to her, but she frowned until I folded my legs and sat down completely.

  “The spirits are happy with you,” she said after a while. “They welcome you home after your long journey.”

  “I’m just visiting,” I said with an apologetic smile.

  Zandi’s eyes met mine with a warning look, and Hugo cleared his voice.

  Right. No talking allowed.

  Rubbing her hands in the air over the scattered items, she continued. “The great lion has been waiting for your arrival for many years. There is much joy among the pride. The spirits demand a celebration, and we will slaughter a cow to show gratitude to our ancestors for the return of you and your mother and sisters to the pride.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Excuse me?”

  Turning eyes the color of midnight at me, she grinned. “Give me your hand.”

  Hesitantly, I held out my right hand. She lifted it carefully, rolling my arm so my birthmarks were visible. She reached for a yellowed claw on the mat and cooed in her own language as she brushed the dried barb against my arm.

  A vision of flames erupted in my mind, and I grunted as if I’d been struck. Through the wall of flames, I saw a pride of lions. Simba, the one who’d stalked me when I’d left the Jeep, was watching me with a look that was almost human. A male lion with a thick golden mane sauntered over to her prone form. Dipping down, he gave her a long lick from the back of her neck across her head. Simba closed her eyes, seeming to enjoy the attention, until he collapsed against her side in a huff. She angled her body to rest her head in the cradle between his massive paws. He licked her once more and then both lions turned to me, capturing me with their stare. I gazed back at them in a trance until the veil of flames grew, covering them behind the fiery wall.

  When the vision ended, I cried out, feeling Hugo’s fingers on my shoulders.

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  Dots flashed behind my eyelids, and my tongue was as dry as sandpaper. This was insane. I had to have a drink before I fainted.

  “Zandi, do you have water?”

  I heard scuffling behind me, and within seconds, a tin cup of water was pushed into my hands. Taking a gulp, I blinked twice before the room came into focus.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

  “It must be the smell of impempo,” Zandi said. “It’s an herb we burn to call our ancestors. Sometimes it can be overpowering because of the sweet scent. Come and sit on the chair outside. You’ll feel better soon.”

  Hooking his hands under my armpits, Hugo lifted me like a feather. He swept an arm around my waist and carried me out of the house.

  “I don’t need to sit.” I gave him a wan smile as he set me on my feet. “Do you mind if we go back to the lodge instead?”

  “Of course.”

  “Britney, what’s wrong?” Abandoning the goat, Meghan hurried toward me.

  “Nothing. I feel a bit faint. Don’t worry, I just need fresh air.”

  “You’ll be better soon.” Zandi touched my hand in concern as Hugo opened the Jeep’s door.

  I gave her an overly bright grin. “Chris says it’s jet lag. It’s not serious. Sorry for causing a fuss.”

  Smiling, Zandi touched my forehead with cool fingers. “Go well, lioness. Bring your pride the next time we meet.”

  Meghan climbed up next to me. “I can’t take you anywhere,” she said with mock severity. “Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?”

  “No,” I said as David got the motor running. “I’m much better.”

  And I was. All trace of dizziness disappeared as soon as we left the village.

  Chapter Eight

  Christmas Day arrived quietly and without a fuss. No sirens or taxi cabs tooting their horns. No TV programs with jingling Christmas bells in every scene. And no mom rousing me from sleep with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

  With a chest tight with homesickness, I rolled out of bed. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was much too early to call my mom and sisters in New York. They’d still be tucked in their beds, wrapped up warm against the cold for a few more hours. I wondered if they missed me. I certainly missed them.

  The sun was shining, so I took a quick shower and dressed in a pink T-shirt, a pair of white shorts, and white sneakers. Snagging Meghan’s Christmas present from the bedside table, I tapped on her cottage door and was shocked when she answered.

  She looked awful. The apples of her cheeks were flushed, and her nose was bright red. Dabbing a crumpled tissue against her nostrils, she stepped aside for me to enter.

  “Meggy, what’s wrong?”

  “I’ve caught a cold,” she said sadly as I held out her present. “Thanks.”

  Still dressed in her pajamas, she shuffled to the unmade bed and sank onto the mattress.

  “I feel like crap.” Sniffing, she lay back on her pillow. “Merry Christmas. Your present is on the fridge.”

  “Merry Christmas.” Setting her gift on her bedside table, I sat next to her and pressed the back of my hand against her forehead. “You’re burning up. Have you taken any medication?”

  “I’ve just had aspirin and something for my throat.” She closed her eyes. “The nurse gave me some vitamin C and a nasal spray. Said I should rest as much as possible today. Apparently, it’s just a fresh cold and I’ll feel better later if I stay indoors.”

  “Oh no. Poor you.” Tucking the blanket around her legs, I poured a glass of water from the jug on her bedside table. “Here, drink this. You have to stay hydrated.”

  Lifting her head, she took a sip of water and swallowed painfully.

  “I’ll sit with you. When it’s time for Christmas lunch, I’ll bring you a tray of food.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She waved me off. “I need sleep. You can’t waste your day with me when I’m not conscious.”

  “But, Meggy—”

  “No. And that’s final.” Closing her ey
es, she slumped on the pillow and croaked, “Take your present and go.”

  “My present is going to stay here until you’re well enough to open yours together with me,” I said, waggling my finger in her face.

  “All right, but I need sleep. Marshall said he’d bring lunch, so you don’t have to worry.”

 

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