by V. K. Powell
“I know you believe that, Zakaria. But I’m afraid you have been seriously misled. I have had his death investigated three times in three years by different people, all reputable with connections that run deep into clandestine affairs. Each one concludes the same thing. I brought the reports for you to read.” She pulled a heavy envelope from her oversized bag and handed it to Zak. “You need to let this go.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Zak rearranged food on her plate so her mother would think she had eaten some of it. Her appetite had disappeared at the mention of her father’s death.
“One of several reasons. Most importantly, I wanted to see you. You have to read this information. And the local hospital is dedicating a new children’s ward in your father’s memory this afternoon. I would like you to accompany me.”
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can. Many people in this country still remember the work he did here. They want to honor him and you cannot deny them.”
She saw her mother so seldom. She didn’t want their time together filled with tension and disagreements. “I’ll consider it.” Zak motioned for more coffee and tried to lighten the mood. “I didn’t know you and dad were friends in grade school.”
“Your father was the only man I have ever loved. There’s been no one before him or since, though I am considering women as an alternative.”
Zak nearly sprayed her mouthful of coffee across the table. “Mother!”
“If it’s good enough for my daughter, it’s good enough for me. Now who was that curvy redhead you just locked eyes with?”
“No one” came to mind, but Estelle was too astute to let that pass. “She’s why I’m in Kenya. It’s just another job.”
Estelle relaxed in her chair and appraised her briefly. “She might very well be a job, but she’s not just a job. I’ve never seen that particular look in your eyes. It’s a cross between passion and something else—fear, I think.”
Zak finished her coffee and motioned for the check. “Mother, you’ve spent too much time in Paris. The romantic in you is showing.”
“It always has, darling. But I know my daughter. What’s her name?”
“Sara Ambrosini.”
“Of Ambrosini Philanthropic? That Ambrosini?”
“You’ve heard of her, I take it.”
“I’d have to live in a cave not to have heard of the great work that organization does around the world. Her parents were amazing people. I met them at a function in Saint-Denis just outside Paris a few years ago. They were charming, intelligent, gregarious, socially conscious, and devoutly nonviolent, to say nothing of charitable. If she is anything like her parents, she is quite the young lady.”
Zak thought about her first impression of Sara and how it had changed since they met. “She is very much like that, rather amazing.”
“We should invite her to the dedication, and perhaps she could join us for dinner.”
“She has other plans this weekend, Mother. Maybe another time.” The last thing Zak needed was to have her mother and Sara Ambrosini at the same table for a meal. Estelle would have them engaged before the entrée and married before dessert. And if Rikki tagged along, the entire restaurant would be in for an X-rated show. Fortunately, Sara had made it clear that she would be busy all weekend.
Zak signed for breakfast, agreed to attend the ceremony with Estelle, and pointed her in the direction of the masseuse and manicurist. She looked at the bulging envelope her mother had given her and decided against reading the reports immediately. Information was too easily manipulated to give credence to the idea that her father’s death was an accident. The Company had conducted a thorough investigation on her behalf, and the results were clearly different from what her mother believed. But now was not the time to be at odds with Estelle. Today was too important to her and to her father’s memory.
*
Sara met Rikki in the lobby when she arrived early in the morning and decided to feed her breakfast before blasting her with the private investigator’s report about her infidelity. But when they walked into the Thorn Tree Café, Zak was there with a strikingly attractive older woman, kissing her hand and looking way too cozy for Sara’s taste.
“Isn’t that Miss Tall Dark and Ninja over there with a sexy cougar?” Rikki asked when she saw the direction of Sara’s gaze.
“Yeah, let’s go somewhere else.”
“I like it here.” Rikki put her arm around Sara’s waist and pulled her closer. “Romance is definitely in the air if even your uptight guide has snagged a date.”
Sara didn’t want to think about Zak with that woman or anyone else, much less sit across the room and watch them gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes while she tried to eat breakfast. “We’ll order room service and have a quiet meal in the suite.”
“Well, all right.” Rikki wiggled her eyebrows and gave Sara a look that usually meant sex was in her immediate future.
In your dreams, Sara thought. Since she’d arrived, Rikki had been the epitome of the devoted and attentive lover. But the constant touching and consideration made her cringe. All she could think about was how many other women Rikki had touched, kissed, and fucked since she’d left the country. When room service delivered the order, Sara watched while Rikki devoured her meal like she hadn’t eaten in days. She barely contained her temper until the utensils clanked against the plate with finality.
“That was great. Plane food sucks.” Rikki got up and retrieved her suitcase from beside the door and threw it onto the king-sized bed. “Guess I’ll unpack.”
“Maybe you should wait.” When Rikki gave her a curious look, Sara continued. “We need to talk—about us.” Rikki sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Sara paced back and forth in front of her. She’d never actually broken up with anyone and wasn’t sure if she wanted to do it gently or just throw the damn pictures at her and be done with it.
Rikki seemed to have her own idea of the topic. “It’s been hard being apart, but I’ve managed okay. You were worried that I wouldn’t handle it well.”
“This isn’t working, Rikki.” She decided to take the high road because hurting Rikki would do nothing but assuage her anger. And she wasn’t a spiteful or vindictive person.
“What?”
“Us. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I’ve been here. We just want different things.” Was that ever true. Rikki wanted to screw every woman that looked her way and use Sara’s money to finance her escapades. Sara wanted a real relationship that included fidelity, commitment, and equality.
“Are you crazy? We’re perfect together. We have a great time. We look like the ideal couple. Sex is fan-fucking-tastic. What more could we want?”
“I simply need something different. I’m sorry to do it this way, but you deserved a face-to-face explanation, not a phone call from halfway around the world.”
Rikki’s normally pale complexion turned bright pink, and her eyes became saucers of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. Babe, we just need a few days to get back to where we were.” She moved to embrace her but Sara stepped back. “Don’t be like that.” She tried again and Sara dodged her.
“It’s over, Rikki.”
Her now-ex put her hands on her hips and her face contorted into an angry mask. “Is this some kind of joke? Have I done something to piss you off? It’s your friends, isn’t it? They’ve been telling lies about me. Whatever it is, I can explain.” She rushed Sara, grabbed her, and kissed her roughly. “I know this is a joke or I wouldn’t be here for the weekend.”
“About that—you’re not. You have a return flight that leaves in three hours. That’s just enough time to get back to the airport and check in.”
“Yeah, right, like you’d spend all that money to fly me over here just to break up.”
“It’s never been about money, Rikki. If you understood me at all, you’d know that. Unlike some people, I believe in honesty and facing problems head-on. It’s worth the money to do things the right way. Thi
s couldn’t wait until I returned. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
Rikki’s ire turned to shock and the tears started. “Please, Sara, don’t do this. I love you. There has never been anyone but you. I’ll stay the weekend and we’ll work things out.”
“You can stay if you’d like, but it’ll be on your own dime and it won’t be with me. If you miss this flight, you’ll have to pay your own way home.”
“Sara, how can I prove that I love you?”
She’d had enough. Rikki wasn’t about to let go without undeniable evidence. “I have all the proof I need. You’ve been followed since I left. Would you like to see the pictures?”
Rikki’s face went completely blank, but her eyes shifted from side to side like her mind was spinning in search of some plausible explanation for her deception. She started to speak twice, seemed to reconsider, then gave up. That pretty much said it all. She had no defense.
“I can’t believe you had me followed.”
“I can’t believe you made it necessary.” Sara opened the door and waited. “I think you better leave or you’ll miss the plane.”
Rikki pulled her suitcase off the bed and dragged it toward the door. “It’s that guide person, isn’t it? You’re fucking her. That’s why you’re breaking up with me.”
“Even if I was, it’s none of your business. You gave up the right to question me when you stuck your tongue down another woman’s throat. Good-bye, Rikki.” She slammed the door in her face and smothered an urge to cheer aloud.
Sara walked to the balcony and watched the street activity below, trying to decide if she was angry, happy, sad, or unaffected by her sudden singleness. She concluded that her fury had come and gone when she received the private investigator’s report and saw the photos. The happiness hadn’t kicked in yet but she was sure it would. She’d finally ended a bad relationship instead of waiting for the other person to do it. It was both empowering and gratifying to stand up for herself. She deserved better and had taken the first step to getting it.
She grabbed a sweater and threw it over her shoulders. It was a beautiful day and she wanted to be outside, to celebrate her freedom with a walk. When she reached the lobby, she snagged an area map from the concierge, stood on the front stoop of the hotel, and looked both ways. More people were going right, so she followed the stream of foot traffic.
The car exhausts, smog, and decaying garbage permeated the air, making Sara long for the racy smells of wild game and their droppings in the bush. But like the indigenous people she’d encountered, the pedestrians along her route were friendly and accommodating. She adjusted her pace to keep up with the flow and enjoyed the simple architecture of the buildings as she strolled.
It seemed she’d been walking for hours when the midday heat finally began to affect her. She pulled off her sweater and tied it around her waist, then consulted her map to get her bearings. Suddenly everyone around her seemed to have stopped. She bumped into the woman in front of her and the map fluttered to the ground. As she stooped to pick it up, people crowded closer and pushed her forward toward a building where some sort of event was occurring. Banners announcing the dedication of a special children’s ward hung across the entrance of the Nairobi Hospital.
Police and military personnel surrounded the area. Sara pushed her way through the crowd to get closer. She couldn’t understand why an event like this would necessitate such a heavy law-enforcement presence. The front steps of the hospital served as the dais for the ceremonies and were lined with people dressed in hospital and military uniforms. A tall, distinguished soldier was speaking to the crowd, but Sara was too far away to hear what he was saying.
“Who is that?” she asked a woman standing beside her.
“That is President Kibaki. He is a great man.”
Sara worked her way around the perimeter of the gathering until she could hear Kibaki as he made the final dedication. “It is with great pride that I dedicate this unit to a man of foreign descent who did so much for the youth of Kenya. He was a humanitarian and a powerful healer. That his life was cut short is a great disservice to us all. Dr. Franklin Chambers.”
Sara stumbled off the raised curb on which she was standing. Dr. Franklin Chambers? Was it possible that this man and Zak were related? She knew Zak’s father had been a doctor and spent the summers working in Africa. This was too similar to be a coincidence. She scanned the crowd as it started to thin.
President Kibaki walked down the hospital steps and shook hands with several people inside the police barricades. He worked his way along the line in Sara’s direction and stopped in front of two women, one very tall and dark-haired. Zak. She’d know that statuesque frame anywhere—the set of her shoulders and the tilt of her head. Kibaki spent several minutes with Zak and the woman Sara had seen her with earlier.
When the president left the area, Sara started toward Zak. She wanted to acknowledge the honor bestowed on her father. But before she could work her way through the milling groups of people, Titus Wachira approached Zak’s companion. Zak stepped protectively between them but Wachira reached out to the woman. In a blink, Wachira was on the ground and Zak stood over him, her arm cocked for another punch. The commander’s detail scrambled, but Zak landed two more blows before they could stop her.
Sara elbowed her way past people, apologizing as she ran, her eyes riveted on the scene in front of her. Zak disappeared in a sea of blue uniforms, hands and feet flailing her as she fell. “Stop,” she yelled. “Let her go.” But the beating continued. Wachira rose slowly, put his hat back on, and ordered his men to stand down. They complied, pulling Zak from the ground as they stood. Sara was now close enough to hear but still not close enough to reach out or intervene. The commander approached Zak’s friend again, took her hand, and kissed it. He turned to his men. “Let her go. This is a sad day for us all.”
The officers holding Zak shoved her roughly away and followed Wachira. Her friend ran to Zak, her eyes conducting a visual examination for injuries. Then she grabbed Zak, hugged her, and lovingly kissed the red splotches on her face and knuckles. Sara turned from the tender scene and hailed a taxi back to the hotel. It was probably just as well. She couldn’t handle Zak’s angry, violent tendencies or seeing her with another woman.
*
Zak spent the rest of the afternoon alternating ice and heat on the areas of her body destined to swell and bruise. When she stepped from her preparatory dinner shower, her mother was standing in the bathroom staring at her. “Let me see you.”
“Mother.”
“Oh, Zakaria, really, I need to make sure they haven’t hurt you any further.” She remained obediently still while her mother examined her. “You’ll have a few nasty bruises, but otherwise, you’re perfect.” Once satisfied, she stepped back and handed her a towel. “You should spend some time in France. You’re way too uptight for a young woman. Nudity is a thing of beauty, especially feminine nudity.”
“Not with your mother.” Zak wrapped the towel around her and fluffed her hair to deflect some of the discomfort.
“I’ll be in the other room when you’ve recovered your composure and your clothing.”
Zak slid into the black tuxedo slacks, long-sleeved pale lavender shirt, and black sequined vest her mother had purchased for her dinner attire. The ensemble molded to her body like it was tailor-made. Her mother’s taste was impeccable and her visual ability to gauge Zak’s size had been a source of amazement since childhood. She stepped into the classic black flats, gave her hair one final finger raking, and joined her mother in the sitting area.
“Gorgeous, cheri, simply gorgeous.” Estelle patted the sofa cushion beside her. “Join me for a cocktail. I’ve ordered that terribly sweet Riesling you like so well.” She handed Zak a glass and raised her Manhattan in a toast. “To beautiful women.”
“Hear, hear.” Zak sipped her wine and regarded the woman beside her. Estelle wore a wrap resembling a traditional shuka, but the colors were the blues and greens
that flattered her complexion and it was customized to hug her slender body. She sported red open-toed stiletto heels that added at least two inches to her height. She was certainly a beautiful woman, and Zak was proud to call her “Mother.”
“Did you read those reports yet?”
“No, I’ve been a little busy.”
“You might have avoided this unpleasant business if you had.” Estelle finished her Manhattan with an uncustomary gulp that Zak recognized as nerves.
“What unpleasant business is that, Mother? The part where Titus Wachira had the crap beaten out of me or the part where you actually let him kiss your hand? Please clarify.”
Estelle rose from her seat and moved toward the door. “Let’s go to dinner. This discussion is pointless. I’d like to enjoy my final meal in civility. We have reservations at the Thai Chi here in the hotel. I don’t have time to go out before my plane leaves.”
Zak met her mother at the door and snuggled against her chest like a child. “I’m sorry. I don’t want our day to end badly. Seeing him touch you infuriated me. After what he did to my father, he has no right to even speak to you. He just makes me crazy.”
Estelle stroked her hair, then kissed her cheek as she pulled the door closed behind them. “I know, my darling. I know. Forget him for a while and let’s have a nice dinner.”
They had been sitting in the restaurant long enough to order their second cocktail when Sara walked in. Zak spotted her immediately and couldn’t look away. The knee-length sheath dress had fringed lace over the bodice that cupped and accentuated Sara’s generous breasts. Her creamy shoulders were bisected by tiny spaghetti straps that Zak imagined would snap with the slightest tug. The sheer fabric gently draped across her midriff and gave it a gloved fit. The color, emerald green, was the perfect choice to emphasize her auburn hair that was twisted into a fashionable knot high on her head.
“Cheri, did you hear me?”