by Andrea Barry
"We'll be getting up before dawn," Armand told Patricia, "so it's wise to turn in early. But if you're not sleepy, you'll be able to watch animals from your room during the night. There are special lights over the waterhole in front of the lodge. You'll be hearing all sorts of unfamiliar sounds, too," he added. "But you'll be safe from wild beasts. The lodge stands on stilts, as you might have noticed."
Will I be safe from you? Patricia wanted to say. She bit her tongue in time. The remark would have been ridiculous, especially since Armand certainly was not acting the hunter with her now. She saw no signs of the once familiar desire in his eyes. Had she really turned him off romantically? And, if so, why should she care?
"I'll take you to your room," Armand said, helping her politely with her chair. "Which room did you choose?"
Patricia led the way over the glassed-in walkway. When she opened the door of her room, she thought, for a moment, that he might follow her in. But he only kissed her hand, pressing his lips to her fingertips, producing a trembling within her that quickly rose from her hand and prickled the hair on the back of her head.
"Rest well," he said casually, taking a couple of steps to the door next to Patricia's. "What a coincidence that you should have chosen a room right next to mine instead of Derek's." His eyebrows lifted as he spoke.
Once inside her room, Patricia put her hand to her forehead, brushing away the droplets of moisture that had formed there. She still felt Armand's lips on her fingers, and she was unable to stop trembling as she sat down on the bed, feeling weak-kneed. Noticing a bolt inside the door, she got up to put it in place. She wasn't sure if she did so to prevent Armand from trying to enter her room, or to prevent herself from going to him. Being near Armand made her lose all her reasoning powers!
She undressed slowly and turned her lights off, but she found it difficult to sleep. She stretched on her back, her eyes closed, trying to wipe her mind blank. But instead, she saw herself in Armand's arms, as she had been in Abidjan, matching his desire with her own.
Through the thin wall that separated her from Armand, Patricia heard rustling noises. Was he also finding it hard to fall asleep? Was he thinking about her, wishing they were together? Would he have made love to her, in her suite in Keekoroti, had he not come across Derek's pipe?
He would be undressed now, Patricia surmised, lying on a bed only inches away from her. Was Armand thinking of her kindly, or did he still believe she was a woman of loose morals, Derek's paramour?
Things would be so much easier if Armand weren't so hot-tempered and emotional. But then, she realized, she herself had pushed Armand into anger by not explaining what had really happened between her and Derek. She could have said that Derek hadn't felt well and had rested momentarily in her suite. Then Armand might have apologized for his unwarranted suspicions.
What future is there in a relationship in which neither of the two people involved ever wants to give an inch? Patricia mused. Perhaps she should be more tolerant of Armand—that is, if she really wanted him. Her heart told her she did. All right, she decided, I'll try to be more understanding and not so quick-tempered with him.
She still heard movements through the thin wall and was tempted to get up from the bed and unbolt her door, just in case Armand decided he wanted to visit her. She wished he would, if for no other reason than to talk. Armand could be a friend and a confidant when he wanted to. She heard Armand get up. There was the sound of steps, but then the sound stopped.
Patricia's gaze turned toward the window. At the waterhole beyond, lit up by lights hidden in tall trees, there were several impalas cavorting around gracefully, as though executing intricate ballet steps. Not far away, just on the water's edge, a mother elephant sprayed her two youngsters with water held in her trunk. No doubt Armand was at the window, as she was, watching this lovely scene.
What a shame we aren't together to share the beauty of this scene, Patricia thought.
She remembered her excursion to the Island of Birds, when Armand had held her very tightly as together they listened to the songs of wild African birds.
A warmth flooded Patricia. She returned to her bed, and with her eyes closed, she wrapped her arms around a pillow, holding it as though it were alive.
It was still dark when Patricia woke to a soft knock on the door.
Armand? she almost cried out, springing out of bed and unbolting the door.
"It is five a.m., madame." A servant stood at the door. "Count Armand and the hunting party will be ready to leave in about half an hour."
Patricia decided to forego breakfast. She put on the safari suit she had bought in Nairobi. The khaki pants, made of very fine, light cotton, matched a buttoned-up shirt. She had also bought a hat made of the same material. She had already learned during her drives with Derek that there was a lot of dust in the African bush.
Outside the lodge several Jeeps were waiting. Patricia was ushered to the lead Jeep and told to sit in the back of the vehicle. Armand and Derek got in the front, Derek in the driver's seat, Armand beside him carrying a length of thick rope.
Soon they were driving in the bushland, the rising sun hot even this early, in a country that straddles the equator. Patricia noticed a herd of elephants, but she knew they would not be stopping to watch game until after they had trapped the zebra.
Derek drove deftly over bumpy terrain, following Armand's directions. Soon they were in sight of a grazing group of zebra. Armand made a silent sign to Derek to slow down and indicated the animal he was planning to catch. While the vehicle was still moving, Armand stood and coiled the rope he was holding, throwing it lasso-like. It fell precisely where he had aimed it— around the thick neck of a fast-moving zebra. He twisted the end of the rope quickly around a bar on the Jeep to absorb the shock when the zebra ran to the end of the slack. A man with a tranquilizing gun appeared out of another Jeep and Armand nodded him on as he raced to the felled animal and proceeded to tie its legs, ignoring the lethal hoofs that kicked in his direction. In a few minutes the tranquilizers would take effect and the animal would be put aboard one of the waiting vehicles that would transport it to a safe area for breeding.
Patricia watched, fascinated, holding her breath, as Armand handled the zebra, carefully avoiding any possible injuries to the animal.
Suddenly Patricia saw the zebra kick one of its legs, dealing Armand a tremendous blow on the head.
In that instant Patricia's heart stopped beating. It was more than she could take, as she watched the man whom she suddenly realized she loved being dealt such a serious blow.
She sat down suddenly as everything became hazy.
When she came to, she was stretched out on the seat of the Jeep, a wet handkerchief on her forehead, a figure beside her. She opened her eyes, hardly able to see with the blinding sun coming in through the windshield. "Armand?" she said, hoping against hope, as the image of the man she loved being struck flashed across her mind.
"No, it's Derek." She recognized the tall, lanky shape. "Armand is chasing another zebra."
"What? He's all right? I thought I saw the zebra hit him." Patricia stammered incoherently. "Is he all right?"
"Oh, yes, he's fine—but he was concerned about you. I bet you didn't have breakfast before we left, and you're not used to this tropical heat so early in the day."
"No, I didn't eat—but Derek, didn't the zebra kick Armand in the head? I thought I saw him fall…" She still couldn't believe he was alive.
"That's the way it looked, but the fall is used by an animal trapper to avoid getting kicked. Armand is especially good at it."
"Yes, he is," Patricia said. So good, I thought he was dead. Thank goodness that Derek, as well as probably everyone else, was under the impression she had fainted as a result of being overheated. She would die if the real reason were known.
"I hope I didn't spoil anything for you, Derek," Patricia said. She looked around and saw that the other Jeeps had gone.
"Oh, no, I was going to return to t
he lodge after the first zebra was trapped. Armand had to go on, but he's only planning to catch one more this morning, and then he'll be back."
Noticing that Patricia was trying to sit up, he said, "You just stay where you are, Patricia. I'm sure you must feel very weak. We'll go back to the lodge now."
He drove up to the lodge entrance and helped Patricia to her room.
"Why don't you lie down," he suggested. "I'll tell the cook to make some breakfast and bring it to you here in bed. We don't want you fainting again, you know."
Patricia closed her eyes. So Armand was all right! Thank heaven she had been upset needlessly. She now knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she loved Armand. Why else would she be affected so strongly at the thought of losing him? Would seeing Derek in danger make her faint? She thought not.
But now that she realized how she felt about Armand she wondered how Armand really felt about her. He had been infatuated with her at one point, but that was before he had flown into a rage. Patricia suddenly felt very tired. She closed her eyes and dozed for a while. A knock at the door awakened her.
"Come in," she said. Her heart leaped with joy as she saw Armand enter the room, his aristocratic face lit up in a beautiful smile, his strong white teeth flashing.
"Your breakfast, chère demoiselle." He was holding a small tray set with a glass of orange juice, a pot of coffee, and Patricia's favorite— freshly baked croissants.
Patricia reclined against a pillow, and Armand carefully set the tray on her lap. Pulling a chair next to the bed, he sat down, never taking his eyes off her.
"You gave me quite a scare, Patrice, are you all right?" he asked, concern in his voice.
"It's you who gave me a scare, Armand." Her flashing green eyes widened in fright at the very recollection of what she thought she had seen. "I thought—I thought you were hurt," she whispered.
He extended his hand to cover hers in a most gentle way, and for the longest time there was silence between them, their eyes interlocked.
Armand broke the silence without moving his gaze. "I'm touched, Patrice, that you were so concerned for me," he said.
Patricia felt he could read her very thoughts. "Perhaps then, Patrice, you don't dislike me… ?" His hand still covered hers. There was a challenging look in his eyes as he spoke. Patricia was sure he wanted her to say more, but she also knew it wouldn't be wise. It would make her even more vulnerable than she already was. She had to be sure of his feelings before she voiced her own.
"I'm sorry I didn't see you trap the other zebra," she said. "It seems such a dangerous feat, trapping them single-handed," she added.
"No more dangerous, really, than exposing myself to a wild little tiger." He laughed. "Come, you've hardly touched your breakfast. I don't want to see you faint again from hunger. Besides, my dear, I want to show you more of the game reserve later. There's a family of lions near a stream in the bush that you mustn't miss."
"All right." Patricia reached for her orange juice. "But, here, Armand." She now reached for the coffeepot. "You have a cup of coffee. I'll just have juice with my croissants." She handed him a cup.
"Thank you, chérie," he said. Patricia was glad her hands were busy. She had to fight a strong desire to throw her arms around Armand, and cry "I love you, I love you"—words she felt should not be uttered lightly.
Sharing breakfast with Armand was a lovely experience. There was a feeling of comfort between them and of intimacy that was peaceful.
"You know, Patrice," Armand said. "It occurs to me that we're alike in many ways, you and I. We certainly like many of the same things."
"Some, but not all, Armand," Patricia felt his penetrating eyes magnetizing her.
"Let's say that our differences bring spice to our relationship and often provide pleasant surprises." His eyes lifted, twinkling. "Couples who always agree with each other are boring. They don't listen to each other much. It's as though each one knows the answer before the other one speaks."
"Perhaps they like it that way," Patricia countered. "What is wrong with being in total agreement with another person?"
And yet this was precisely what she had found irritating about Derek. He always agreed with her, no matter what she said. He offered no challenges.
But she persisted in elaborating on her point of view. "Surprises can be confusing," she said. "I prefer a clear-cut path ahead of me, rather than one that twists and turns, with the unexpected always around the corner."
"Why not a bit of both, Patrice? You don't strike me as the kind of girl who would settle for a routine life, refusing challenges. If nothing else, you certainly are a good traveler. Look at the challenge of going all the way to Africa."
"It is true that I like traveling. I hope to do more traveling in the future. But in the main, Armand, my life has been pretty routine, especially since I began practicing dance therapy. I like it that way."
"Really? But what of the future? Do you not see yourself expanding, doing perhaps more than you are involved with now? You told me yourself, Patrice, how pleased you were to have been appointed head of a special program at the Institute. That in itself is an expansion from just teaching. In fact, I would say it is a great challenge for one as young as you. How is it you are so reluctant to consider the challenge of a relationship with a man, such as I could offer?"
"Oh, I don't know, Armand…" She had no idea why she was rejecting him, when only a minute ago she wanted to tell him she loved him. Was love already making her crazy?
"You and I argue too much. Fighting is not my idea of a good relationship." And what kind of relationship was on his mind, anyway?
"But, chère petite Patrice, fighting and then making up can be a beautiful thing—that is, making up in the proper fashion."
By the look in his half closed eyes, she knew he was referring to love-making. No dictionary was needed to interpret his meaning.
"Arguing can be simply an exchange of views," he continued, and Patricia was grateful he didn't dwell on the disturbing innuendo. "An argument doesn't have to end in a fight. It can lead to a realization that two people can respect each other even if they don't always share the same point of view."
"Do you find yourself capable of such understanding, Armand?"
"I think so, Patrice. At least I would give this way of thinking some effort." His face assumed a serious expression. "And you, Patrice, would you also be willing to try?"
"I don't know, Armand… I really don't know. A relationship has not been part of my plan in life."
"Ah, there you are again, limiting your scope, afraid to expand! I'd like to see you change your mind."
What was he saying, Patricia wondered. "There is a quality of suspense and uncertainty in everything that passes between us, Armand." Her words were guarded. "I don't know if I like it."
"Dear Patrice." His mouth curved into a laugh now. "It is mutual! May I point out that you have provided me with a great deal of what you call 'uncertainty.'"
"What do you mean?"
"For instance, when you led me to believe Derek was your lover."
"I did no such thing. You jumped to conclusions! You didn't give me a chance to explain— and, besides, what makes you so sure that he isn't my lover? What changed your mind?"
"I realized that I had been so blinded by jealousy when I saw Derek's pipe in your room, I never let you explain how it got there. And, secondly, when I cooled down I knew it wasn't the sort of thing you would do—you are too fine a person for such things. Also, I must confess," he added, as though admitting something naughty, "Derek told me he had rested in your room when he didn't feel well the night he took you out. He explained that he had had too many drinks."
"And you believed him?" Patricia had no idea why she was overtly taunting him.
Armand's eyes narrowed. "Why do you say this, Patrice?" he asked. "Are you telling me that I am a fool to believe him, that there actually is something going on between you and Derek?"
There was a hint of hosti
lity in his tone. It would be dangerous to play with his feelings.
"No, Armand," she said truthfully. "There has never been anything at all between me and Derek. He just needed a cold compress on his head, and that's all I did for him. His pipe fell out of his coat pocket, and I forgot all about it. As I told you before, Derek has never made a pass at me. We don't have that kind of relationship. We're just friends."
"I'm relieved to hear you say that. I didn't think Derek was your type—too predictable. You need to be kept on your toes, petite tigresse."
"Perhaps that is what you need also, Armand."
"Without a doubt. I couldn't stand the kind of woman I could take for granted—no more than one who would take me for granted."
"If a tug-of-war kind of relationship is what you mean, Armand, then count me out." Patricia reached for the coffeepot and refilled Armand's cup. He nodded his head in thanks.
Ignoring her last remark, he looked deeply into her eyes.
"How can a vibrant, passionate girl like you want to live without love?" he murmured.
"I never implied that, Armand," she said. "I've told you before that I think there is more to love than just satisfying the flesh."
"Ah, but dear Patrice, the love of the flesh, as you call it, is all part of loving the person. It is healthy! A union of the masculine and the feminine is a very beautiful form of love, especially when it is based on a spiritual and intellectual love."
Patricia had to admit he made sense. Did he love her spiritually and intellectually as well? She had to be sure.
"But you are such a physical person, Armand," she said. "I don't know what to say…"
"At least you are not as adamantly opposed to the idea of a relationship as before… Think of how wonderful it would be, Patrice, to have someone to share your thoughts with—not only now, but when you grow older. Someone you can trust, who is interested in the same things you are."
