Captured by You

by Amber Hart

“You’re sure you want to go back, Raven?” Her voice trembles more.

  “I’m sure,” I answer. “I have one week with you and then I need to return to help run the habitat. It’s what Dad would have wanted.”

  Mama finally pulls into our driveway and cuts the engine. She turns to face me, and she nods. “No doubt he would have, Raven. You are so much like your father. Down to the core, you are exactly the same. You have his heart.”

  It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me.

  “You can always come back,” Mama offers. “If it becomes too much, if you change your mind, if your mission is finished, you are welcome here. And, Raven?”

  “Yes?”

  “Promise me you will be more careful this time. I cannot bear the thought of losing you too.”

  “I promise. You have my word.”

  “I love you,” she says, drawing me into a hug. “I will always love you.”

  “I love you too, Mama.” We hold on tight for a few seconds, and I feel comforted and safe, the way Mama’s hugs always make me feel.

  I’m not expecting what I see when I step out of the car.

  Audrey and Caden are standing by the front door of my house.

  “Welcome home!” Audrey squeals, jumping up and down.

  Caden wraps me in a bear hug, and I smile into his shirt.

  “Figured you’d want to see them,” Mama says. “Audrey, Caden, come in; I’ll make coffee.” Suddenly, there’s nothing I want more in the world than a cup of Mama’s coffee.

  “That sounds wonderful,” I say.

  “Thanks, Mrs. M.,” Caden says, then turns to me. “I hope you know I wouldn’t wake up at eight in the morning for just anybody.”

  “It’s almost nine,” I joke.

  “Same thing,” he says, hugging me tighter.

  I pull out of his grasp and Audrey immediately hugs me. She looks over at Caden, who is grabbing my bag. “Would you wake up at eight for me?”

  He grins. “I don’t know about that, babe.”

  Since when does he call Audrey babe?

  Mama leads the way to the kitchen, but we detour into the living room, where Caden makes himself at home in the middle of the couch and turns on the television, like he’s done countless times. I sit on one side of him, and Audrey sits closely on the other.

  “So, spill. Tell us everything about Africa,” Audrey requests. “No, wait. First, show me that picture of the guy you met.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I laugh.

  “Okay,” I agree, pulling out one of my drawings. “Of course, he looks much better in person, but this is him.”

  “This is what’s taken you away from us?” Audrey asks, looking Jospin over, running a finger along the edge of the paper. “Well, I can certainly see the reason you stayed so long.”

  I laugh again. Caden smiles. And then he puts an arm around Audrey, softly kissing her temple. He sees me watching and grins.

  “So,” I say, glancing back and forth between Audrey and Caden. “You guys…”

  Audrey blushes madly. “Yeah. We wanted to wait until you were back to let you know.”

  I look at my two best friends and I’m nothing but glad. It makes what I’m about to tell them more bearable.

  Chapter 50

  Jospin

  “She’s better off.”

  Clovis’s voice pings off the bark of trees as we traverse the jungle on our way to a village a little north of the habitat.

  “I know,” I answer in tribe dialect.

  He means Mother. She’s much better off now that Father is gone—dead.

  “Do you think she’ll be happy there? Better, yes. But happy?” I ask.

  Clovis spares me a reassuring look. “She will miss him. She will have to adjust. But remember that she came from this village. It was once her home.”

  It helps that she has a friend there, the wife of another slain pack member.

  We approach the edge of the village. Small huts pepper a long dirt row. Leaves hang from a million trees, providing shade. I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead, which is dripping in sweat.

  “Are you okay?” Clovis asks, a hand on my back. “We can take a minute if you need.”

  This will be the first time I’ve seen Mother since Father died.

  “I’m good,” I say.

  We press on through the jungle until we are at the huts. I walk by each one. Some of the doors are open, allowing me a clear view inside. Native jungle people sit outside, watching us pass. I know we’ve found the right one when I spot the wife of the pack member I used to know. She calls for Mother, and Mother emerges with the biggest smile on her face.

  “Jospin,” she says. “You came.”

  My arms wrap around her. “Of course I came.”

  Mother pulls back and beckons Clovis and me inside. “Hello, Clovis. Come in.”

  Her new home is small—two bedrooms and a living room. There is no electricity. No running water. I peek through a window and spot a well pump sticking up from the ground behind the house. At least she has that.

  I take in her decorations—a tapestry hanging on one wall depicting a mother and baby elephant, pots and pans dangling from nails over a wood-burning stove, chairs made out of woven palms, a carved wooden table.

  “Mother,” I say. “You’ve settled in.”

  The size very much reminds me of the bungalow I used to have and of the cabin Raven and I now share. Clovis takes a look around too.

  “Do you like it here?” I ask.

  I can’t help thinking it is completely different from what she’s used to.

  Mother looks around as if she is seeing it all for the first time as well. “It’s nice, Jospin. It really is. It’s not like the compound.” She flinches slightly. “But I think that’s a good thing. I don’t want to think about the house and the money. It stole your father from me, anyway. He was so dedicated to material things. I hardly saw him anymore. I need this—a home that won’t remind me of him.”

  I hate the tears collecting in her eyes. Mother never deserved any of this. I’m angry that Father left her alone at the compound. I’m sad that she has to start all over. I’m happy that I won’t be far from her and that she’s finally truly safe.

  “You can come stay with us for a bit,” I offer. “Or I could build you a house near us.”

  “I am near you,” she says, smiling. “Just a day’s hike. And, besides, I like it here. I like that there are other people to talk to, things to be done, a community.”

  Mother has always been social. I glance at Clovis. He doesn’t say anything, but the fact that he is here is enough to bring comfort. It’s not going to be easy to watch Mother readjust.

  “You’ll visit me, though, won’t you?” she asks.

  “Of course,” I say. “Whenever you want. Probably more than you want.”

  I mean to say it jokingly, but my tone is freighted. I can’t help but feel that I am partially to blame for everything.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “You don’t need to be sorry, Jospin,” Mother says. “Your father made his decision. I made mine. I chose you, even though I knew that it meant betraying your father, even though”—she pauses, her voice catching—“I knew he would fight back. I still chose you, and I do not regret it for one minute. Neither should you.”

  “But you lost him. You lost everything—your home and money and possessions,” I whisper.

  “But what did I gain, Jospin?” she asks, then answers. “I gained my son. And that is worth more than anything to me.”

  I think of Raven—my everything—and I know exactly what she means.

  Chapter 51

  Raven

  The sanctuary echoes with the sounds of apes, making my eardrums ache. Above me, a gorilla swings from a vine, one-handed. Her free arm is bandaged from a fight with another primate. A baby follows a female who has shown interest in the orphan. But there are fewer gorillas here than I’m used to seeing—and I am thankful for that.<
br />
  It has been ten months since we won the fight with poachers, since the packs were eliminated and Mr. Tondjii died.

  “Think you could finish brushing Hera?” I ask Clovis, who sits next to me, rolling a ball to a young gorilla who was abandoned. Hera touches the brush when I pause, letting me know that she wants more grooming.

  “Yes, boss,” Clovis says teasingly.

  “Don’t call me boss,” I say halfheartedly.

  Clovis smiles. Dreads fall into his eyes and he has grass stuck to his clothes, evidence that he’s spent the last few hours rolling around with the apes.

  “Well, you are,” he replies.

  He’s technically right, now that Chloe and I run the sanctuary together.

  “See you tomorrow?” I ask, offering him the brush.

  He takes it and begins grooming Hera. “And every day after that.”

  He hardly ever takes days off. It’s his way of giving back for what he took in the past.

  I jump up and hit the buzzer, waiting to be keyed out of the sanctuary. Chloe opens the door.

  “Have a good evening, Raven,” she says.

  This is my routine. Every day after work, I look for Leahcim in the forest. Sometimes he waits for me, and sometimes he’s not there. My walk through the underbrush is filled with the usual hum of insects. Early autumn in the jungle brings humid temperatures. I wipe sweat from my forehead and pull my hair back into a ponytail. My scarred arm no longer shakes, but I still can’t make a tight fist either. I never will. I’m okay with it.

  I look around for Leahcim, but he’s nowhere in sight. I pull a banana out of a deep pocket in my pants. While I peel it, I keep my eyes trained on the trees. I eat the fruit slowly, letting the peel fall to the floor when I’m finished. Lately, Leahcim hasn’t come often. Which is good, I suppose. He’s happily living in a forest where there are no more human threats.

  His troop is getting bigger. I’ve seen them. He has three females now. My Leahcim is thriving. He is still partial to me, which sometimes allows me to get a look at his females. They are naturally shy, but they are also occasionally curious. None of them strays far when Leahcim comes to visit. But it is clear he won’t be here today, so I leave. As I make my way through the forest, I pass the wooden cabin that belongs to Clovis. If I were to go inside, I’d see one small bedroom with a bathroom attached and a living room that opens into a kitchen. It’s similar to the cabin I share with Jospin, a half mile from the sanctuary, built with our own hands.

  Plush moss cushions my feet as I walk deeper into the trees. Rays of sun filter through the leaves, like light through the slits of blinds. Just a little farther and I come upon the place I call home. Jospin is outside.

  I pause, watching the way his muscles work as he sands down a table he built. This is what he does in his free time now—makes things like our kitchen chairs, the chime that hangs in our entryway, the necklace crafted from jewels that he gave me for my birthday. Jospin makes sure we live entirely off the forest. And though he doesn’t work at the habitat, he also doesn’t kill apes. Now he hunts smaller game, and only what we need to survive.

  He’s wearing just his cargo shorts, and his skin glistens with sweat. I think about how those same muscles press against me every night. How Jospin’s arms wrap me up, and how his lips speak my name.

  He slowly grins, not looking up. “How long are you going to watch me?” he asks.

  I bite back a grin of my own and make my way to him. With my lips to his ear, the one that finally healed, I whisper, “As long as you’ll let me.” And then I press my mouth to his. Though he’s sweaty, I wrap my arms around him. He picks me up and places me on the newly made table.

  “Mmm,” he says, taking a step back. “I like this look.”

  I laugh.

  “Perfect height,” he adds, squeezing between my legs.

  I kiss him again. “Perfect,” I agree.

  From the corner of my eye, I see something. “He made it today!”

  Jospin sets me down, and we watch Leahcim step through the trees.

  “Hey, boy,” I say, walking to him.

  Leahcim is used to Jospin by now, so he doesn’t even pause as he comes to me. But he does look behind him. One of his females hides among the trees. He makes a noise, as if to call her, but she doesn’t come, so he sits next to me and scratches his feet.

  Sometimes I bring him things like paint or toys or wooden blocks that Jospin makes. He likes simple puzzles too—Jospin cuts them from wood, and I draw murals on the pieces.

  Time has aged Leahcim into a handsome silverback. Leathery fingers touch my own, and I know he wants to hold my hand. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. He touches my scars, the way he often does.

  Through the leaves, I spot his mate. She’s his first female, the one who scares most easily. She’s slowly starting to trust me; when he visits, she always stays close. Maybe one day she’ll reveal herself to me completely. Leahcim stands on all fours and makes his way to the female. He gets close enough to touch her and then returns to me, hugging himself. It’s a sign I taught him.

  “You want a hug?” I ask, smiling.

  This is how he asks.

  I stand to give him a hug, but Leahcim whoops loudly, making me pause. He doesn’t usually whoop after requesting a hug. I wait to see what’s caused the change in his behavior. And then Leahcim uncrosses his arms and I gasp, realizing that he took something from the female when he went to her.

  What he took was a baby gorilla.

  Tiny gorilla eyes stare up at me as Leahcim cradles his newborn. Leahcim signs the word baby and then the word nice and finally the word gorilla.

  Baby nice gorilla.

  He’s introducing me.

  He signs more. Soft, then smelly, then fur.

  I listen as he tells me a story.

  Mine, stink, mine, he says.

  Stink is also his word for flower, a sweet smell. And by his signs, by the way he holds his newborn close, I see that Leahcim loves the baby.

  Jospin places a hand on my back. “Careful, Raven,” he warns.

  Leahcim has never been aggressive with me, but I keep my distance, giving him space. Girl or boy? I sign from a few feet away.

  Mom, he answers.

  A girl, then. I smile. Because Leahcim has been given a chance. He lived through a time when poachers nearly killed him, and he survived. He returned to the forest and started a troop and now he has a baby.

  “She’s perfect,” I say.

  Leahcim edges closer. I dare to reach out a hand. He doesn’t stop me. I touch the baby’s soft fur. I’m not expecting her to grab my finger. I keep my eyes pinned on her as I sign with my other hand, Welcome to the rain forest.

  It’s a beautiful place she gets to inherit. Trees and green and people who live to protect the peace. And then Leahcim does the most amazing thing:

  He hands his baby to me.

  The gorilla squirms in my arms, pressing her face to the crook in my neck. She is warm and so incredibly small. Like a human newborn. I stare at her, amazed. Her eyes are the purest brown.

  Just as soon, my time is up and Leahcim takes her from me. I expect him to give her back to her mother, but he doesn’t. I should have known better than to underestimate his love, because just then he presses his baby to Jospin’s chest. Jospin instinctively grabs the infant, shocked.

  In a split second, his face transforms into a smile, spreading from his lips to his cheeks to his eyes. The spontaneity of Leahcim’s act, that single moment of trust, has put Jospin at a loss for words. He strokes the infant’s head with one finger. His touch travels down her tiny arms, over her stomach and legs, stopping at her ticklish feet.

  Leahcim reaches for his baby again, gently lifting her from Jospin’s arms. He touches my face once and whoops, his way of saying goodbye for today. I watch him, his mate, and his baby leave, the trees—their home—engulfing them.

  Epilogue

  For all the times I dreamed of the future, I
never would have seen her coming.

  My Raven.

  I meet her stare. There’s fire in my look, mirrored in hers. There’s love and want and passion. I pick her up and carry her through the trees to our cabin door, then inside. Her legs wrap around my hips. My mouth hungrily kisses hers. I don’t stop even when I’ve set Raven on the bed, when I take off her clothes and she removes mine. I lower myself next to her, the softness of her lips everywhere, the pressure of my touch over each gentle curve of her body.

  She moans my name. I greedily swallow it with kisses. She places a hand on my heart, and I feel it race with her nearness. Pictures of Raven flash through my mind. Her sun-bleached hair, her head tipping back in a laugh, piercing blue eyes, her muscles working as she runs over the rain-forest floor, me chasing her, trying to catch up to the force that is Raven, to the beauty of a world with her in it.

  “I never would have imagined a day like today,” I whisper. “Me holding a baby gorilla. Me being able to choose a life with you.”

  “You mean a day when you were finally free?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I reply against her lips. “I thought it would never come for me. I thought it was too late.”

  Raven places her hands on either side of my face. “Don’t you see, Jospin?”

  When she kisses me this time, it feels like forever.

  “It is never too late.”

  For the girls who run toward their fears with hungry hearts

  Acknowledgments

  My love goes out to the conservationists of the world. Thank you for dedicating your lives to this cause, especially the Jane Goodall Institute, which introduced me to the beautiful gorilla species.

  Thanks to my family as well, you beautiful people, you. Always understanding when I need to write just one more page, when my attention is lost to fictional characters, when you ask me while I’m immersed in stories if I heard what you said, to which I always reply “yes,” and which you know is a lie. I love you.

  To Beth Miller, the best of all agents, for being there time and time again. Every e-mail, call, picture, and encouragement—I cherish them all. Writers House, when I dreamed of the perfect literary agency, yours is the face I saw.