When I Found You (A Box Set)
Page 79
“Cee Cee learn good get six bananas.”
“You know you can have only four.”
“Six.” She’d pounded her chest. “Me sing good, six, six, six.”
Brett had known this was the breakthrough they had waited for in Cee Cee’s relationship with Ruth, but he’d also known that Cee Cee would appreciate her victory more if it was hard-won.
“How do I know you’ll sing good?” he’d signed.
“Cee Cee try hard, fine female gorilla sing good.”
“Ruth is a fine female woman.”
“No. Dirty stink female.”
“Dirty stink female won’t teach Cee Cee to sing. Fine female woman will teach Cee Cee to sing.”
Cee Cee had cocked her head to one side, considering her options. Heaving a big sigh, she’d wrapped her arms around herself.
“Cee Cee love fine female woman, give six bananas, six, six, six.”
“Yes. If Cee Cee loves Ruth, Cee Cee will get six bananas.”
Instead of digging into her breakfast as she usually did, Cee Cee had pointed at Ruth.
“Teach Cee Cee sing now, me want sing now,” she’d signed.
“Shall I come inside?” Ruth had asked Brett.
“Not yet. Stay outside the bars where you and the baby will be safe. Cee Cee has to earn our trust.”
Heedless of her skirt, Ruth had sat just outside the bars so she’d be on Cee Cee’s level. Cee Cee had sat facing her, and the lesson had begun.
Ruth had chosen a simple schoolchildren’s song, “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” She’d sung the song through, then shown Cee Cee the appropriate places to supply the animal sounds. The gorilla had been a quick study, and soon the two of them were singing a duet, Ruth supplying the words and Cee Cee howling with delight as she was alternately a duck, a pig, a horse, and a cow.
Cee Cee had clapped her hands, grinning.
“Cee Cee sing good, fine female gorilla, eat six bananas, sing more more more.”
The bond forged between Ruth and Cee Cee during that singing lesson had grown stronger every day. And now Brett had no fear as he watched Ruth sitting beside the gorilla, singing.
Suddenly the song stopped, and Ruth gave Cee Cee a startled look.
“Cee Cee! The baby just moved.”
“Baby move where?”
“Here.” Ruth put her hands over her enlarged abdomen. “My baby kicked me. Oh ... there it goes again.”
Riveted, Brett watched from the doorway. The baby he’d watched growing inside Ruth was alive and well. Kicking. His baby. Joy and pain stabbed him at the same time, and he wondered if it were possible to die from such wounds.
“Cee Cee ... feel that.”
“Where baby?”
“There.” Ruth took Cee Cee’s hand and placed it on her stomach. The gorilla’s touch was gentle. “Oh, there it goes again. Did you feel that, Cee Cee?”
“Baby strong kick good,” Cee Cee signed.
“Yes.” Ruth’s laughter was merry and lighthearted. “He is strong, isn’t he?”
Brett saw the truth, all in a flash, as if the Virungas had lit up with one of the sudden storms that sometimes swept over them, storms that made even the blackest night sky look like broad daylight, storms so full of thunderbolts that it seemed as if God and all his angels were hurling spears toward the heart of the earth.
The truth was that the period of mourning for his brother had finally come to an end, and he was free to approach the woman whose womb sheltered his baby— approach her not as a brother-in-law on whom she could lean, but as a lover full of intent.
“Ruth,” he said, not softly but with a new boldness that she saw the minute she looked at him. Her face changed, taking on a radiance that was temporarily blinding.
“Come and sit by us.” She held out her hand, and when he took it, he didn’t let go. Both of them knew why. “The baby’s kicking,” she said.
“I know. I heard.”
Slowly she guided his hand to her swollen abdomen, then held it there, her hand resting on top of his, reverent as a prayer. The stillness that fell over them was so deep, it was almost as if they had disappeared into the vast reaches of a night sky where there was nothing except the moon and the stars and God.
Then he felt it. The tiniest flutter, like the moving of butterfly wings.
“There,” Ruth whispered. “Feel that.”
He couldn’t speak. Tears clogged his throat and pressed against the back of his good eye.
“That’s the future, Brett. All these weeks on the mountain I’ve mourned the past, but today when the baby kicked, it was almost like a sign. I knew it was time to go forward.”
The baby kicked once more, harder this time, as if he knew his father’s hand was covering his temporary hiding place. Something burst inside Brett, a jubilation as pure as the sunlight.
“Yes, it’s time, Ruth.”
Gently he put his free hand on her cheek, and she leaned her face into his palm, as if that’s where it belonged.
“It’s time to say the things I’ve been feeling for a very long time, things I had no right to say ... until now.”
“Say them,” she whispered. “I want to hear them. I need to hear them.”
“What I feel for you is not mere desire, not mere admiration, not mere respect, but all those things together. And more.” He kissed her hand, then ran his thumb across her knuckles. “I’m not very good at this ...”
“You’re very good at this ... the best.”
“I wish I could be poetic. I wish I could give you the moon and the stars.”
“Just give me the truth.”
His heart stopped beating for a millisecond; then it went on as if nothing had happened. But in that brief flash he understood that in giving her what she wanted, he could lose everything.
“I think it’s called love, Ruth, but saying ‘I love you’ doesn’t convey everything I feel. It’s too simple, too easy to say just those three words, when in fact what I feel for you is so complex that it would take two sets of encyclopedias to explain it all.”
“Only two?” She laughed with her head tilted back and her long, slender throat exposed. He would always remember her that way, accepting his love with the starry-eyed joy of a child racing to a Christmas tree to find everything she’d always wanted, or even dreamed of wanting.
“Maybe three,” he said.
“No, six, because we’ll need double the space to express my love for you.”
He cupped her face and tipped it up to his, and when he kissed her, he knew that he’d never truly kissed a woman, that everything that had gone before was a dress rehearsal for the real thing.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he said.
“So have I. Since I was fifteen, I think, and first saw you on television with Cee Cee.”
“I’m going to kiss you again, but not sitting on the floor in Cee Cee’s cage.” He took her hand and helped her up, then stepped outside the iron bars, closed the door behind him, and pulled Ruth back into his arms. Except for the mound of her womb, she was as lithe and slender as a willow, bending and shaping herself to fit against him.
They kissed until they were both out of breath; then Ruth drew back just enough so she could look up and see his face.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “Please don’t ever stop.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Love bloomed inside her like spring flowers, but with the beauty came the old fears, and she shivered.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Ruth.”
She squeezed him so hard, the tension made her arms hurt.
“I love you, Brett. It’s very important to me that you remember that—no matter what happens. Promise?”
“Yes.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind lingered the fragrance of white roses, and she hid her face in the crook of his shoulder.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“Not of you. Of me. I’m afraid that I’m damaged beyond redemption.”
“You never have to cover up your fears with me, Ruth. Let your true feelings show, and I promise that I’ll be there for you. I may not always say or do the right thing, but I’ll be there trying.”
She nodded, and he could feel the old fears trembling inside her, feel how close she was to tears. As reassuring as words were, sometimes they weren’t enough. He picked her up and carried her into his bedroom.
“If I do anything you don’t want me to, all you have to do is say no, Ruth.”
Her hair spread across the pillow, black silk laced with a scarlet ribbon, and her eyes were luminous. Joy mixed with fear. He prayed that when it was all over, there’d be nothing left but the joy.
“I’m glad you’re wearing a red ribbon.” He bent over her and gently unwound it, then held it a moment against his cheek before he placed it on the bedpost. Pliant and alive from her body heat, it twined around the ribbon already on the post as if it knew where it belonged.
Ruth lay on the bed smiling up at him.
“You’re so beautiful, I’m almost afraid to touch you ... . Almost.”
She caught her breath when he reached for her buttons. What would it be like? His hands on her?
She trembled, waiting.
He unveiled her slowly, like a work of art, then sat on the edge of the bed staring. Merely staring.
The air felt cool against her skin ... and his gaze felt hot.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
He put his right hand on her throat where her pulse beat, and she knew. At last she knew.
She would never be afraid of this man, never fear his touch. On the contrary, his touch loosened something wild and hungry in her, something that cried out to be caught and tamed and fed.
In spite of her past, in spite of her marriage, in spite of her pregnancy, she felt young and fresh and alive in a way she’d never been. Until this moment no man had ever touched her. Until Brett, no man had ever kissed her. With him, only with him, everything was special, unique, a delicious secret, as if the two of them had invented love and no one else in the world would ever know what it felt like.
She held on to him until she had no awareness of anything except his mouth, his clothes piled hastily on the floor, and his body, naked and beautiful, flat against hers, lifting a little to accommodate her belly.
She could no longer imagine a time when he’d never been with her. His flesh was her flesh, his bone her bone, his blood her blood.
As they rode the powerful primal waves of passion, she abandoned the past and gave herself up to him, gave her heart and soul and mind to him. She was free, free at last to love truly and be loved in return.
At last coming to the Virungas made sense, and she knew that when she’d left Hawaii, it was not to run from Max but to run toward Brett. And now she’d never have to run again. All the years of running, all the lies were behind her.
Afterward, lying in the curve of his arm, she said, “Whatever happens, Brett, promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“There will never be any lies between us.”
He held on to her with the biggest lie of all separating them.
How was he ever going to tell her? How was he ever going to make her understand?
Instead of answering her, he kissed her, the desperation in him translating into a passion that rekindled with the suddenness and fierceness of a canyon fire. Wordless, they fell through each other once more, losing reason, losing time, and losing themselves.
When it was over, he held her close, propped against the headboard with her feet stacked on top of his.
She lifted herself up and kissed the side of his jaw. “I love you, Brett.”
Would she still love him if she knew the truth? If he didn’t tell her, the lie between them would spread faster than cancer. Left unchecked, it would be fatal.
“Ruth, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Oh, my. You make this sound like one of those dramatic soap operas.” With a sweeping gesture she put her hand over her head; then, rolling her eyes, she said in her most exaggerated Southern drawl. “My darling, there’s a deep, dark secret I’ve been keeping from you. Remember your husband who was killed when the car went over the cliff and plunged into the ocean? Well, he didn’t die. I am him. Or is that he?”
He wished he could keep laughing with her. He wished that he and Malone had told her from the beginning and that she was delighted that now the three of them could be a family.
The only way to tell the truth was the hard way.
“This is serious, Ruth.”
“How serious?” There was fear in her voice. He hated that he’d been the one to put it there. “You’re not going to tell me something else awful about the poachers, are you?”
“This is not about poaching.” A premonition as black as thunderclouds rose in him, and he fell silent.
“What, then?” She put her hand over her heart. “You’re scaring me, Brett.”
He took both her hands in his and squeezed. Hard.
“I’m the father of your baby, Ruth.”
She stared at him, feeling deaf, dumb, and blind all at the same time. Surely she did not hear or see or fully comprehend what he had said.
“There must be some mistake,” she whispered.
“There’s no mistake.”
“I ... we used an anonymous sperm donor.”
“I’m the sperm donor.”
Comprehension swept through her, then horror. She rammed her hand into her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. He put a soothing hand on her shoulder, but she shook him off, scooting as far away from him as the bed would allow.
“You’re the sperm donor,” she said, her voice sounding wooden. Suddenly it all made sense to her, Malone’s late-night prowling, then the quick trip to the clinic in Nairobi. Naturally he’d rather have had Corday blood in his child than the blood of a stranger.
But why had they kept it a secret?
“Malone knew, of course,” she said.
“He asked me to be the father of his child.”
“His child!”
“Your child. The child both of you would raise.”
She felt sick at her stomach, but she held on, controlled her nausea, controlled her anger. She was going to go away as fast and as far as she could get. But not yet. Not until she had the full truth.
“And so you willingly perpetrated this hoax so that the two of you could gloat over having a genuine Corday. It wasn’t enough that the baby would carry my blood. He had to have yours, as well.”
“That’s not true, Ruth.”
“Not true! How will I ever know what the truth is if you’re the one telling it?”
He could have told her that he hadn’t wanted to be the father of her child, that he’d done it for Malone, but that would be a betrayal of them all—mostly of Ruth. He’d desperately wanted to be the father of her child.
“Ruth, I donated the sperm, you got pregnant, and now you’re going to bear our child. Those are the facts, and nothing I can do or say will change them.”
“Not our child, Brett. My child. This baby is mine, and nobody is going to take him away from me.”
“My God, is that what you think this is about? You think I told you I love you merely to gain possession of my baby.”
“Your baby!”
Brett had never seen her so mad. He thought she was overreacting, but then, what did he know about pregnant women? What did he know about women, for that matter?
“Ruth, please calm down. This can’t be good for the baby. Or for you, either.”
“Oh, I’ll calm down, all right.” She stalked toward the hall, naked as the day she was born. Naked and vulnerable.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere where you’ll never find me.”
“Ruth ... think about this.”
�
��I don’t need to think. I’ve already thought.”
“At least stay until you’ve had time to calm down. You don’t need to leave in your condition.”
“A condition you foisted upon me.”
“Having this baby was not my idea, Ruth.”
“Oh, now you want to take it all back, do you? Well, I have news for you, Brett Corday. It’s a little too late for that.” She put both hands in the small of her back and pushed her stomach out in an exaggerated manner. “The horse is already out of the gate, so to speak.”
Anger had propelled her down the hall, but that’s as far as it would carry her. Her legs began to tremble, and she was in great danger of melting into a weeping puddle at his feet. He sensed her weakness.
“I love you, Ruth,” he said softly, his hand held out toward her.
How easy it would be to take his hand and forget she’d ever heard the awful truth. But she was through with lies.
“How many other lies have you told me, Brett? How many?”
He stared at her, his black eye so piercing, she felt as if knives were probing her insides.
“None,” he said.
He looked like Mount Karisimbi on a cloudy day, huge and immovable, timeless and distant, his mind and heart and soul shrouded by mists that she couldn’t penetrate no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she wanted to.
She thought how it would have been if Malone hadn’t died. The three of them in the cottage with Brett coming to call. Uncle Brett. Years and years and years of lies. Her son never knowing his true father.
“How much more sperm would you have donated, Brett?” she whispered. “How many more children would I have borne for you?”
The long silence between them coiled inside her belly like a snake and lay there, writhing.
“We’ll never know if you leave, will we, Ruth?”
His deliberate misinterpretation of her question almost crumbled her resolve. His face, his voice, his eyes, were warm and inviting, reminding her of the bright dreams she’d had only moments before, she and Brett together, rearing the child she now carried as well as the children they would conceive. The old-fashioned way. In a bedroom where nothing but love was spoken.
“No,” she said, so softly he had to lean forward to hear her. “We’ll never know.”