by Ava Miles
“It was the butler, Madam,” he deadpanned.
Arthur chortled. “That’s a good one, Hargreaves. We’ll have to watch out for you from now on. Of course, if you make any Indian food once we return home, you might have to worry about me doing you in. I will need a respite from that cuisine.”
“Oh, put some bread in your mouth, Arthur,” Clara said, sipping her tea.
“Jaali is making a special native dish in your honor tonight,” Hargreaves said.
Arthur ripped a piece of his bread off and dabbed it in Clara’s jam. “What is it?”
“I doubt you know it, sir,” Hargreaves said, still standing beside the table in a formal posture. Boyd wondered if he had an identity separate from being a butler. It seemed to fit him like a second skin. Boyd’s mother was like that. She had trouble sitting down at the table with them. It had always bothered him.
“Tell him anyway, Hargreaves,” Clara said.
“Matoke with beef. I’ve been assured it’s delicious. Of course, it depends on how today goes.”
“Speaking of,” Joseph said, rising. “I think I’ll take another walk about.”
Boyd nodded.
“My journalistic nose says something is up,” Arthur said, thrusting a bony finger his way. “Clue me in, Boyd.”
“A warrior is coming today who will decide if we are to continue our trip to the village,” Hargreaves said. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll watch with Joseph.”
Boyd’s shock from the revelation that Jaali, who wasn’t much of a talker, had shared all of that with Hargreaves was equal to Arthur’s reaction. “What in the Sam Hill does that mean?”
“Since Boyd and I aren’t officially a couple anymore, we may not be allowed to continue,” Michaela said.
Boyd turned, not having heard her exit her tent. She’d braided her hair, something she did when she was thinking. Given the intricacy of the braid, she must have done a lot of thinking. Did she regret their brief encounter? Had it triggered more longing or resoluteness?
“You’d better explain, Boyd,” Clara said, tapping the table. “Otherwise, Arthur will continue to bark, and while I’m used to it, Michaela looks tired and would likely enjoy a peaceful breakfast. Come, niece. Sit beside me.”
Her position at the table made it impossible for Boyd to see her.
“Dr. Boyd!” Simon called from the edge of their small camp. “Joseph’s cousin is coming.”
He lurched out of his seat. The others followed suit. Scanning the horizon, he found the lone silhouette of a man in the traditional red clothing of the Maasai.
Joseph was standing with Hargreaves and Simon, a grin on his face, and he patted Boyd on the back when he reached the trio. “I told you Sironka would find us.”
“Incredible,” Hargreaves mused.
“But how?” Clara asked.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Arthur added.
“Ask him when he comes,” Joseph said. “Your eyesight would delight a cheetah, Simon. Well done.”
“Thank you, Mr. Joseph,” the man said. “Shall we break camp, Dr. Boyd?”
He caught Michaela watching him. Her mouth was tight. She wanted this find as badly as he did, but they both knew the score. The matter was out of their hands. “Not just yet, Simon. Joseph, shall we ride out and pick him up?”
“No, he likes to walk for days without end,” Joseph said, chuckling. “Of course we can give him a ride. He is a warrior, not an imbecile. What warrior would not want to travel faster? The old ways of the Maasai are coming to an end, I’m afraid. Modernity.”
Boyd nodded. Globalization was changing traditional ways of life everywhere. “Mickey, do you want to come greet Joseph’s cousin?”
Their eyes met, and he nearly hugged her to counteract the sorrow in her normally vibrant green eyes. She didn’t expect Sironka to take them to the village, he realized. Well, he was going to do as Clara advised and stay positive. Like he’d told Joseph, perhaps the vision had been of the past. Or, hopefully, of the future. As far as he knew, there were no hard and fast rules for this sort of thing.
“I’d love to come,” she said, her voice as lackluster as gray clouds.
“We’ll stay,” Clara said, taking Arthur’s arm. “Be the welcome party. Oh, I’m so excited. I’ve never met a warrior before. Do you think he’ll agree to take a picture with me? I very much want to frame it and put it in my sitting room. Arthur has loads of photos with politicians and the like in his office. I’m starting one of my adventures.”
“A capital idea, Madam,” Hargreaves said. “Joseph, is there anything special Jaali and I could prepare for your cousin?”
Boyd wanted to commend him for his courtesy. It was exactly the sort of thing he should have thought to do.
“A cool glass of milk would be welcome,” Joseph said. “Do you want to drive, Dr. Boyd?”
“I’d be happy to,” he said. “Grab a piece of bread, Mickey. I don’t want your blood sugar crashing from not eating.”
“I’m fine,” she ground out.
So she was going to be stubborn. “You don’t want his first impression of you to be your growling stomach. I’d like him to know I feed my woman.”
She stalked off to the table and grabbed his half-eaten bread, stuffing it into her mouth. He repressed the urge to roll his eyes.
“Anything else we can do, Boyd?” Clara asked, her eyes on the horizon. “How far do you think he walked?”
“Four or five days,” Joseph said, passing Boyd the keys to the Rover. “He also came down the river. His village is located in dense forest, a fair distance from here.”
“Why didn’t we make it easier on the man and travel closer?” Arthur asked.
Joseph answered, “The land is restricted beyond that horizon. Only those with special permission from the chief may pass, and only then if they are accompanied by a warrior in the tribe.”
“I see,” Clara breathed out. “You should get going. Save the man in this heat.”
The temperature wasn’t yet eighty, but it was a warm morning. “Everyone ready?” he prompted.
They piled into the Rover, Michaela riding shotgun. Heading toward Sironka, Boyd felt torn between excitement and nerves. If Joseph’s cousin refused to bring them any farther, he was going to be devastated. To get this close to the Valley of Stars…
The golden grasses swayed in the breeze as they raced ahead. A Ruppell’s vulture soared overhead, its impressive eight-foot wingspan casting their car in shadow briefly. Beyond it, a tawny eagle flew across the savannah, landing out of sight, likely sighting prey. Boyd soaked it all in. If this was to be his last day in the Mara for a while, he was going to savor it. Michaela didn’t seem to be of the same mindset. Her fists were clenched tightly in her lap, her gaze directed forward.
Boyd slowed the Rover as they came closer to Sironka, and the tall, lean man stopped to wait for them. His hair was clipped short to his head, and he was wearing the Maasai’s famous beads around his neck. He lifted a hand in greeting as Boyd drew to a halt. Joseph exited the cab and crossed to his cousin, shaking his hand and speaking in the Maasai’s rapid-fire Maa language.
Boyd called out a simple greeting in Maa, exiting the cab, and Michaela did the same. Sironka turned and smiled. “I am happy to find you here, my friends. The journey to reach you was a good one.”
“You speak English?” Michaela asked. The next instant, her cheeks went pink, and she added, “I’m sorry. I’m only surprised. I understood you and your people live in a more remote area, and I assumed…”
The tall man rested his spear on the ground. “My sister learned English in her schooling in Kenya and returned to the village two years ago to teach a few members of our tribe. I was honored to be among them. My mother had a vision it must be so. She is a laibon—a healer—like my father.”
“I’m Dr. Boyd McClellan.” Boyd extended his hand to the man, who took it.
“It is good to meet you,” he said with a brief bow.
“I am pleased to hear that,” Sironka said. “Of course, the grasslands are very different than my home. Shall we meet the rest in your party? I counted five more people in your camp besides you.”
Boyd wasn’t surprised the man had such keen eyesight or that he’d paid such attention to detail. Out here, a person’s survival could depend on it. “We have a repast waiting for you. Please.” He gestured to the Rover.
“Come sit in the back with me, Sironka, so we can speak of your family while Dr. Boyd drives us.” Joseph glanced at Boyd as he said it, as if silently ensuring him that he would make a case for the trip to continue.
They all climbed back into the car, Michaela next to Boyd, and as he started the engine, she covered his hand on the gear shift. He stilled in putting the car into first. Gazing into her eyes, he made the attempt at a smile. Yeah, she was wondering if this was the end of the line too. She squeezed his hand and released him, so he slipped the car into first and headed back to the camp.
Clara and Arthur came forward with their arms linked, looking like a unified front.
“This is Dr. Michaela’s family, Sironka,” Boyd said. “Mr. Arthur Hale, a world-renowned journalist, and his wife, Mrs. Clara Merriam Hale, an incredible artist of handicrafts.”
“What a lovely introduction, Boyd,” Clara said as she took Sironka’s hand and then moved out of the way so her husband could shake the warrior’s hand as well.
“You are a weaver of cloth, Mrs. Hale,” Sironka said, bowing briefly, the gesture a little grander than the one he’d made for Boyd and Michaela out of respect for their position as elders. “The women in my village would be honored to see your handicrafts.”
“I would be honored to show them,” Clara said, motioning for Hargreaves to step forward. “I like to keep my husband warm. Our home is in the mountains and it can be very cold.”
“It is good to keep your man warm,” Sironka said.
“I am a lucky man, indeed,” Arthur added. “We are very happy you have traveled so far to meet us.”
“The honor is mine,” Sironka said. “It is not often elders such as yourselves come to visit us, especially from so far away. Everyone in my village is eager to meet you.”
That sounded encouraging, Boyd thought. He’d feared the addition of Michaela’s family would put them off when he’d informed Joseph of the change, but the warm welcome made sense. Elders were revered here.
“Sironka, this is my dear friend and the man who makes everything run smoothly for me,” Clara said. “Mr. Clifton Hargreaves.”
“I’m honored to meet you, sir,” Hargreaves said with a slight bow.
Sironka extended his hand to the butler, who shook it. “You are British, I hear, from your accent. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hargreaves. We should all be lucky to have someone make everything run smoothly.”
Boyd waved Jaali and Simon forward and finished the introductions. He noted that Sironka shook hands with both of them. So far, he’d greeted everyone with the same degree of regard—commendable behavior, as far as Boyd was concerned. While he respected that every culture had its own rules, it nonetheless bothered him when someone refused to shake hands with a woman or someone they deemed inferior to them. This tribe clearly didn’t operate that way. They were remarkable for having a female healer, for the secrecy that clothed their village, and for their inclusivity. He was excited to learn more about them.
If they made it.
“Please, come and sit. We have some refreshments.”
Everyone came to the table except Hargreaves, Simon, and Jaali, and Boyd let that be. Jaali brought over a glass of milk, a plate of fruit, and more fig and mango jam for the warrior, who took the slice of bread Joseph had cut and started slathering it with butter and jam. Boyd took in more details as Sironka ate. His red robes had a pattern of horizontal white and blue lines, and a dagger was tucked into the carved leather sheath on his waist. His spear rested against the table’s edge as he drank the entire glass of milk.
“A good cow,” he said, “but not as good as the ones I own, I think.” He laughed, and Joseph clapped him on the back and joined him.
“I expect no one in the village has cows as good as yours, Sironka,” Joseph said as Jaali appeared with a pitcher of milk. “How was your journey?”
“Pleasant.” He held out his glass for more milk. “There were many good signs. How has your journey been? Mr. and Mrs. Hale, is this the first time you’ve been to our lands?”
“I came many years ago,” Arthur said. “It is a pleasure to be back.”
This was the world-traveled journalist talking, not the grumpy retiree who bitched about peppermint liniment. He rather liked both sides of the man, he had to admit.
“This is my first visit, Sironka,” Clara said, “but I’ve already decided it won’t be my last. I expect some of Arthur’s grandchildren might return with me after I tell them about this place. It truly is beautiful.”
“Wait until you see our land, Mrs. Hale,” Sironka said. “Is everyone prepared to leave today?”
Boyd felt Michaela take his hand under the table and clench it. Was she holding her breath like he was? Had Joseph been able to talk Sironka around? Or maybe the whole them-being-a-couple thing wasn’t as important to the visions as Joseph had thought. Boyd certainly wasn’t going to ask for clarification.
“We are, good man,” Arthur said with an emphatic nod, “although if you would like a few more hours to rest before we leave, my backside will thank you.”
“Oh Arthur! I don’t think Sironka traveled all this way to hear that.” Clara swatted him as Sironka laughed loudly.
“My grandfather would say the same, I expect, if he had to endure a trip in that Land Rover for days,” Sironka said. “You are a brave man, Mr. Hale. Mrs. Hale, that goes for you and Hargreaves too.”
“It’s nice to have someone appreciate our age, Sironka,” Clara said with a smile, “but like I tell everybody, I feel decades younger than I am—and I plan to live until I’m a hundred.”
“I expect you will do so,” Sironka said. “The gods favor you both. Come, I will help break down the camp. Then we can depart.”
Michaela tightened her grip on Boyd’s hand. He looked over at Joseph, who smiled and shrugged when their eyes met.
Sironka rose and picked up his spear. “Mrs. Hale, would you mind making me a handicraft on our journey? It would be a great honor for me to wear it.”
The warrior lent her a hand, and she rose to her feet. “I’d love to. I read the Maasai wear red because they believe the lions fear the color. It just so happens I brought some red yarn with me. Come, tell me what you’d fancy. I’ll show you what I’m making Arthur. I love your robe, by the way. Can I hold your spear?”
Arthur was shaking his head as Clara and Sironka walked off to her tent. “Well, that was easy. Seems we’re a go for the rest of the trip. We might have a good story brewing, after all. What in the world were you two so worried about?”
Boyd was wondering the same.
“I’d better watch that Sironka with my woman,” Arthur said with a wink. “She’s so beautiful, men just can’t help themselves.” He rose and hobbled off after them.
Once the others were out of hearing, Boyd turned to Joseph. “Anything else to add, my friend?”
Joseph stood, chuckling. “I’ll only say the gods clearly favor this journey. I’ll make myself ready.”
When he left, Michaela squeezed Boyd’s hand. She hadn’t once let it go. “Oh. Boyd! We’re going, we’re going, we’re going!”
“Seems we ar
e, Mickey. See, I told you we had nothing to worry about.”
Her gaze fell to his lips before rising to meet his eyes. She wanted to kiss him, and God knew, he wanted to kiss her as much as he wanted to go to the Valley of Stars.
“I’m going to kiss you right now,” he said, lowering his head. “If you don’t want—”
She cut him off by pressing her lips to his. His heart exploded with hope, and he closed his eyes, wanting to savor the moment. Maybe this meant the visions had been of them in the future.
“I promised you we’d find the Valley of Stars together,” he whispered against her lips. He’d promised it on their second date over a year and a half ago. Did she remember?
“Yes, you did.”
When she edged away, he opened his eyes. She was smiling in that secret way of hers.
Pride flooded him at the realization that he had made her smile like that this time, not a baby elephant. He wanted to shout to the heavens. Instead, he kissed her on the lips again. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”
It was time. If he wanted her to open her heart to him again, he needed to be honest.
He reached into his pocket for his wallet. He opened it and drew out her engagement ring.
Her gasp carried across the camp.
“I’m not proposing right now, but I needed to show this to you. I was planning on asking you to marry me when I came home from Hendricks with my job offer. I’d even asked your dad.”
She reeled back. “What?”
He cleared his throat to cover the hurt he still felt from that memory. “Things didn’t go like I’d expected that day, but I’ve been carrying your ring around in my pocket every day since. I told myself I’d fix things…that I’d propose someday, and you’d say yes. I made good on my promise about the Valley of Stars, and here’s another promise. If you’ll let me, I’ll love you for the rest of my life. And I’ll buy you a bigger and better ring when I can afford it.”
“Don’t talk like that! It’s beautiful.” Tears—an alarming sign—were filling her eyes, and she reached for the ring, only to snatch her hand back. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”