When I Found You (A Box Set)

by Webb, Peggy

  “A woman in your condition shouldn’t get upset.”

  Ruth went deathly still. She’d chosen the loose smock for comfort rather than need. At three months she was barely showing.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “Three months ago you received donor sperm at a clinic in Nairobi because Malone Corday can’t impregnate you. How does it feel to be carrying the child of somebody you don’t even know, Ruth?”

  She felt as if her world had turned upside down. There was no need to ask how he knew. How didn’t matter. Why was the important question.

  “Don’t look so upset, sweetheart. The child doesn’t matter to me. We can still have our own.”

  “You’re insane,” she whispered.

  “You love me, Ruth, just as I’ve always loved you.” His hands were on her face now, tracing her cheeks, touching her lips. If she moved, she might start screaming. As she had so many years before, she vanished to her private inner world and left behind her shell.

  “There’s no one else in the world for you, sweetheart. No one else can make you feel the way I do. Soon you’ll realize that. And when you do, you’ll come to me.”

  “Never!”

  “Your house is waiting for you, the bedroom an exact replica of the one in New Orleans, every room filled with white roses.”

  Her stomach heaved, and she threw her bouquet of lokelani as far away as she could.

  “Remember how it was with us, sweetheart? Remember how you loved to please me?”

  A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Her distended abdomen was a vivid reminder of the child she carried, a helpless unborn baby totally dependent on her. Suddenly strength poured through her, and she rose to face her old adversary.

  “I never loved to please you, Max. What you did was rape, not love.”

  “No. It was always love. Always.”

  “What I did was make the best of a horrible situation. I don’t have to do that anymore, Max. You have no control over me now. None.”

  Max smiled.

  “I’m glad to see that the Virungas haven’t changed you. One of the things I always loved best about you was your spunk.”

  “Get lost, Max.”

  Two of Ruth’s packages were still on the ground, but she didn’t care. She walked away from him as fast as she could.

  “That’s right, Ruth. Walk away. Go back to that weak husband of yours. He’s probably in your little cottage on Diamond Head gargling mouthwash so you won’t notice the liquor on his breath.”

  Ruth felt as if all the air had been socked out of her. Malone was drinking again—had been since six weeks after they’d arrived in Waikiki. Slowly she turned back to Max.

  “That’s right, Ruth. I know everything about you. I know every move you make. I even know that you use your pregnancy as an excuse not to have sex with your husband.”

  “Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you let me alone?”

  “Abandon you to a man who sits in beach bars and whines about how his frigid wife ”

  Moving like a zombie, Ruth went to a bench underneath a banyan tree and sat down. Nothing was more fatiguing than fear and loss of hope.

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

  “I’m not crying.”

  Max sat beside her and offered her his handkerchief.

  “I’d rather have snot running down my chin than use anything you’ve touched.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “I hope that kid you’re carrying is exactly like you. You’re full of courage.”

  “No, I’m not. If I were full of courage, I’d have turned you in years ago for rape, and you’d be behind bars.”

  “You could never do that to me. I’ve been too important in your life.”

  When she was seven, she’d thought he was the most wonderful man in the world. She remembered sitting around the campfire with the other Brownie Scouts and thinking he was the handsomest daddy there.

  “I loved you like a father, Max.” She grabbed his handkerchief and wiped her nose. “You could have been a wonderful part of my life. You could have been a grandfather to my child.”

  “I’ll be a father to him.”

  “He already has a father.”

  “Who? Do you know who, Ruth?”

  Max had always had the uncanny ability to discern what she was thinking. How many nights had she lain awake beside Malone, trying to pretend she didn’t smell the liquor on his breath and wondering about the father of her child?

  She wadded up the handkerchief and handed it back to Max. The minute she had conceived, all her choices had been made. There were no options open to her now.

  “Malone is his father, Max.”

  He sat down beside her, close enough so that his leg pressed against hers.

  Run. Run.

  She was halfway out of her seat before she realized that Max no longer had any power over her. The healing process that had begun when she had told Brett about the rape was now complete. While she’d slept and dreamed and lived her life, the poison of her past had gradually drained away, if not leaving her whole, at least leaving her clean.

  She looked at the smirk on Max’s face a full two minutes; then she reached into her purse and pulled out a pencil.

  “Going to make a shopping list, Ruth? Remember to put down those two packages you dropped in the dirt at the market.”

  “Not a shopping list, Max. This is a different kind of list.”

  It was her turn to smile. Watching him, she held the pencil aloft, making him wait, making him squirm. When sweat began to roll down his face, she said softly, “How does it feel, Max?”

  “How does what feel?”

  “When someone else has the power?”

  “You don’t have the power, sweetheart. You’re pregnant and vulnerable and far away from home. I’m here to take care of you.”

  “Are you, now?”

  He wasn’t expecting her to turn the tables. Trying not to look beaten, he folded his handkerchief carefully, then stuffed it back into his pocket.

  She noticed that his hand trembled. Max was nothing but an old man.

  “I’ve always taken care of you, Ruth.” Remembering how it had been between them, Max felt his confidence returning. “I know how to take care of you like no other man. Remember, sweetheart? Remember how you begged for me to take care of you?”

  “I remember a scared, vulnerable little girl that you took advantage of, Max. I remember the pain and the fear and the shame. Well, I’m not that scared little girl anymore.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman.” She smiled at him, and his hard-won bravado began to waver. “My woman,” he added, though he didn’t sound as if he were convinced.

  “Guess again, Max.”

  Ruth lifted the pencil as high as her arm could reach, then swung it down hard, driving the pencil straight toward his groin.

  “What the ... !”

  He tried to scramble off the bench, but she was too fast for him. The sharp lead point ripped through his pants, tore a chunk off his hide, then broke with a loud snap against the wooden bench.

  “Darn. I missed.” Laughing, she threw the pencil away.

  “You almost skewered my cock!”

  Still laughing, she stood up.

  “No, Max. I was merely marking you off my list. If I’d wanted to skewer your most prized possession, I’d have aimed a little more to the right.” Her laughter gone, she leaned toward him so there would be no question in his mind as to who held the power. “When I was thirteen, I used to stand on the pitcher’s mound and aim for a quarter on home plate. I could hit it every time, Max. Still can. Remember that.”

  She walked off with that long-legged stride of hers, not hurried but loose and easy. Veering toward the marketplace, she retrieved her lost packages; then, with a toss of her head, she strolled away.

  Watching her almost took the sting out of his leg. God,
she was a woman worth waiting for.

  After she’d vanished, he realized his leg hurt like hell. He sat on the bench until most of the pain and some of the humiliation abated; then he got up slowly and set off toward the beach.

  It was almost sunset, his favorite time of day to walk. He would walk three miles, and then have a light dinner of fish and fruit.

  In time Ruth would get over her little snit. Meanwhile he had to stay in shape. Rearing children took energy.

  o0o

  Ruth would be home soon. Malone pulled the crumpled telegram from his pocket and read it for the hundredth time. “WHERE IS THE MERCHANDISE STOP OUR PATIENCE RUNS THIN.” No need for a signature. He knew who had sent it and why.

  He stuffed the message back into his pocket and took another long swig of liquor, then stuck the bottle on the top shelf of his closet behind a stack of T-shirts. In the bathroom he gargled mouthwash and was just finishing up when he heard the car door slam.

  “Malone?”

  She stood sideways in the doorway, balancing a load of packages. At that angle and with the afternoon sun framing her, her belly looked bigger than it was. Big with his brother’s child. Every time Malone looked at her, he felt a sense of failure.

  He forced himself to smile as he walked toward her and kissed her high on the cheek, his face turned into her hair so she wouldn’t smell his breath.

  “Hi, darling.’ How did it go?”

  “Great.”

  She put her packages on the table, then sank onto the sofa and propped up her feet. He took one into his lap and began to massage.

  He could do these small things for Ruth if he didn’t think too much. He could pretend she was actually growing big with his child.

  “Do I have to call you Dr. Corday now?” he asked.

  “Only when you want to get on my good side.”

  “Dr. Corday, I got a couple of rib eyes for the celebration dinner, and, Dr. Corday, I also got your favorite ice cream—coconut with macadamia nuts. And as if that’s not all, Dr. Corday—”

  “Stop... . Enough, already.”

  Malone could always make her laugh. With her feet in his lap and the sun shining on his obstinate cowlick, she could almost forget about her encounter with Max, almost forget that Malone smelled heavily of mouthwash.

  “Where are the flowers?” he asked. “I thought you were getting flowers.”

  What would happen if she told him the truth? I ran into the man who raped me when I was thirteen, she’d say. And then she’d lean on his shoulder and expect him to act like Brett. But he was not Brett, and she wasn’t brave enough to add another problem to a marriage already reeling under the weight of them.

  “I ... forgot.”

  “Another symptom of pregnancy?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Who needs flowers when you’re in the room?” He nuzzled her neck. “Hmmm, you smell good.” Closing his eyes to shut out the sight of her pregnancy, he slid his hand under her skirt.

  She caught his hand and held it still.

  “Malone ...”

  He knew what she was going to say. Not now. He didn’t want to hear her turn him down.

  “Why don’t I start dinner?” she said. “You look as if you need an early bedtime tonight.” He left the sofa quickly.

  “Yes. A good night’s sleep is just what I need.”

  When she started off the sofa, he motioned her back.

  “You sit right there, keep your feet up. I’ll do all the cooking tonight.”

  The fact was, as much as he loved her, he didn’t want to watch the way she moved with his brother’s child inside her. She had a habit of shielding her abdomen with her hands, as if she were protecting the unborn baby even from him. In spite of that, in spite of the thickening in the middle that had nothing to do with him, he couldn’t look at her without wanting her.

  What would happen if he just came right out and said, “Ruth, I’m tired of your frigidity, and I’m having a hard time because you’re pregnant with another man’s child, and I feel like a failure most of the time because no matter what I do, I’ll never be as good as Brett at anything, but I love you more than I’ve ever loved another person, so please let’s just drop all this pretense and start from scratch?”

  What would happen was that his wife might walk out the door. And he couldn’t stand that. He’d die if he lost her.

  And so he stood in the doorway and smiled ... and wished for a drink of whiskey.

  “Thanks,” she said. “You’re a ...”

  “I know. I’m just a natural-born sweetheart.”

  Ruth watched Malone fire up the grill and wished she was anywhere except in a cottage on Diamond Head with her husband. How starry-eyed she’d been when they’d first arrived almost three months earlier. How full of hope and dreams and plans. How naive.

  No matter where they were, no matter what they did, no matter how many children she bore, nothing was going to change between them. What would happen if she walked out to the patio and said, “Malone, nothing is ever going to work out between us, even after the baby comes, so I’m going to leave before both of us become completely disillusioned”? She could make her own life, have the baby by herself, learn to stop looking over her shoulder at shadows.

  She’d coped with Max today. No, she’d done more than cope. She’d triumphed.

  Couldn’t she do as well with her life?

  She got up off the sofa, and she went to the patio door.

  “Malone ...”

  He looked up, spatula in one hand and a steak in the other.

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “I was just thinking ...”

  “You’re always thinking. That’s one of the reasons I love you. And I do love you, Dr. Corday. More than life itself.”

  She leaned against the door, drained of resolve.

  “I was just thinking ... Can we go back to Africa tomorrow instead of next Tuesday?”

  “I don’t see why not. Anxious to get home?”

  “Yes.”

  If she could get back to Africa, maybe things would be better.

  Chapter 60

  THE VIRUNGAS

  The storm swept through the Virungas with the ruthless intent of a thief, robbing the night of all light and stealing the sleep of the Cordays. Ruth tossed and turned in her bed, fighting the covers as well as her dreams. Something was chasing her, some unknown horror that wanted to suck her into a black void.

  On the mountaintop Brett left his bedroom and stood in front of Cee Cee’s enclosure for five minutes before he was satisfied that she was all right. Disturbed and not knowing why, he sat at his desk naked and tried to read his latest reports on Cee Cee. After ten minutes he tossed them aside and stared into the darkness, listening to the storm.

  Ruth was home. That was his problem. Home with his brother. He hadn’t seen her, couldn’t bear to see her. In his present foul mood he wished the storm would last forever. Then he’d have an excuse to hole up and never see how she looked carrying his child.

  o0o

  In the main compound Eleanor slept on her side with one arm outflung as if she were holding a camera. Dressed in rain gear, Joseph stood looking down at her. She was still a beautiful woman. She could have had any man in the world, and he marveled at his good fortune that she’d chosen him.

  She mumbled something in her sleep, and he bent over and smoothed her hair back from her forehead.

  “Joseph?” Groggy, she opened one eye.

  “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Just going out to check on the gorillas.”

  “In this storm?”

  “I heard Old Doby a little while ago. He didn’t sound right.”

  “Can’t it wait till morning?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  He kissed her cheek. She snuggled back into her covers and was asleep again by the time he got to the bedroom door.

  Outside,
he pulled his collar up and his hat down against the rain. It fell in great, hard sheets, slanting from the east, slicing into him like knives. He was getting too old to be trekking the jungles on nights like this. He started to go back inside; then, chiding himself for an old fool, he set out in the storm.

  o0o

  The night was perfect for what Malone had to do. Huddled under a copse of trees on the slopes of Mount Karisimbi, he watched Old Doby herd his group into the shelter of the trees. Six of his females had recently given birth. If they could take four, Malone would more than satisfy Chu Ling’s desire for “merchandise,” and perhaps he wouldn’t have to harvest any more gorillas until next spring.

  Shambu glanced at the group, impatient to be on about his business so he could get out of the storm. The Batwas hunkered on the jungle floor, chattering among themselves, totally unconcerned about either the job they were to do or the weather. As long as they got what was promised them, they were happy.

  “Wait until Doby settles in,” Malone said, “and then try to take the four babies from the youngest females. They’ll be less aggressive than the older ones.”

  “What about the big guy? He’s a fierce-looking son of a bitch.” Shambu asked. He was nervous about stealing the young gorillas without first getting rid of the male silverback.

  “Let him alone.” Malone remembered how many times Old Doby’s loud chest drumming had awakened him in the middle of the night, and how he used to rail against the inconvenience. Now, though, the thought of destroying something so magnificent as Doby made him sick at his stomach. He slipped a flask out of his pocket and took a drink to ease his conscience.

  “If we kill all the male silverbacks every time we take the babies, there soon won’t be any babies to take.”

  “I don’t like it.” Shambu pulled his panga from his belt. “Some of us will die if he gets aroused while we’re taking the babies.”

  Malone knew that was true, but he didn’t tell Shambu so. He wished he’d brought tranquilizer darts, but the continued success of the scheme depended on perpetuating the myth that poachers were taking the babies, and poachers didn’t use tranquilizer darts.

  “No one is going to die. Just be calm and patient, and we can do this without any problems.”