On their way back to town, Naomi could see Claire had perked up hugely for the distraction. She therefore took it upon herself to rival the sanctuary’s tour guide by reeling off all the snippets of information she could dredge from her memory of the area. Eventually, Naomi pulled off the main road and came to a halt where an enormous baobab tree dominated the sky.
Claire had never dreamed that a tree could grow to such extraordinary proportions: its stolid, immovable trunk had to be over 16 metres wide. And, according to a weathered metal plaque, it was estimated to be 1,500 years old. Grabbing her camera, she quickly snapped some photos, straight upwards, into the tree’s canopy. Claire felt awed again. Compared to something so ancient – so astonishingly resilient – she felt with humility the fragility of her own mortality. This tree had survived for all those years… it reminded Claire of Jeremiah’s scripture, and its simile of waterside trees with roots so deep they would hold through any storm.
“So, have you enjoyed your day so far?” Naomi asked, breaking into Claire’s thoughts.
“Oh, yes! There’s just so much to see and take in. Thanks so much for showing me around, Naomi. Do you come out here often, from Impunzi?”
Answering Claire as they walked back to the car, Naomi said, “A few times a year, I guess. It’s standard procedure with tourists: they all want to see the Falls. Either Seth does the trip, or I do. Funny, but I never get tired of this place. Maybe it’s got something to do with the enthusiasm people always have. Things we so often take for granted are always given their proper perspective through someone else’s eyes.” Naomi pulled her car door shut and turned to Claire with a twinkle in her eye. “Okay – now let’s see what paints and paper we can find you. Can you wait until we get back to the hotel for lunch?”
“I’ll cope!” Claire sighed exaggeratedly. “Yes, let’s see what this town has to offer.” Claire snapped on her seatbelt and settled back in her seat. “What I really want is to do a watercolour for Aunt Ellen. She gave me my first set of paints, when I was about five years old. And I remember for a birthday gift she gave me a year’s worth of weekly art lessons. She really backed me, you know? I’m so glad she did. It feels so good to be able to capture a scene on paper forever.”
Claire reminisced fondly, and soon they pulled up in the small town of Victoria Falls. Its stationery shop did not have much to offer, but Claire did manage to find a large sketch pad, some good pencils and a small box of watercolours.
Back at the hotel shortly afterwards, she and Naomi thoroughly enjoyed the buffet lunch. Talking easily, Claire found herself liking Naomi more and more. Putting down her fork after a particularly tasty prawn cocktail, she asked, “Naomi, how did you meet Tony the first time? I’d like to hear how it’s done!”
Naomi laughed. “It wasn’t a plot! He was working at Impunzi, as ranch manager. I knew Seth thought he was way too old for his kid sister, but that didn’t seem to matter… He was just beautiful, you know?” Naomi giggled as she narrated the tale to Claire. She knew so many people forgot the first day they’d met, but that afternoon she first become totally aware of Tony was burned onto her memory as though it had been yesterday.
She’d been standing in the yard outside Impunzi on the first day of the college break, shielding her eyes from the sun and glaring at a cloud in the sky, daring it to rain – when the clearing of a throat nearby had caught her attention. Dropping her arm, she stared over at the man who stood watching her. He was standing by the garage with a spanner in his grease-streaked hand. His overalls were covered in black smears, too, and he’d smudged some onto his cheek and forehead. So, this was Tony. Naomi knew he’d apparently worked on the ranch while she’d been at school, and that he’d then gone away; now he’d been asked back as her father’s ranch manager. All but staring, Naomi noticed that even in the loose work clothes this man looked impressively built. He had piercing blue eyes and his blond hair stood in tufts where he had obviously run dirty fingers through it. Well done, Dad, she’d thought appreciatively.
“So he was just there, like some Norse god,” Naomi told Claire. “Then he strode over from the garage and I stupidly held out my hand to shake his – and, before we could speak, we both noticed he’d already covered me in oil!” She rubbed her palm as though she could still feel the smear there. She continued with her recollections, as Claire hung on her words.
Seeing Naomi’s fruitless efforts to wipe herself clean on a tissue, Tony had dropped the spanner, taken her hand in his and grabbed the rag at his side to try and repair the damage before she spoiled her dress.
“Sorry about that – wasn’t thinking… You must be Naomi, right?” Tony’d said in a deep voice. Grinning down at her, he continued, “Nice to meet you, finally. Welcome back.”
Naomi couldn’t answer; her whole attention was focused on the feel of her slight fingers cupped in his strong, warm hand. In bemusement she watched as, instead of cleaning her up, he’d just managed to spread the grease everywhere.
Finally he stopped, blushing. Bending down, he retrieved the spanner and instructed her sheepishly, “Look, come into the garage. I’ve got some soap in there – that’ll do the trick. I’m Tony, by the way – did I say that already?”
Naomi followed him, noticing as he walked how wide his shoulders were. He’d be able to lift her like she was a feather… Get a grip, Naomi!, she commanded herself. She followed this new paragon over to the basin where he was running the water, and squirted a blob of cleaner onto her palm. She rubbed her hands together firmly and then rinsed them off. She’d used the time to find her voice.
“Thanks, Tony,” she said, still flustered. “I’ll… I’ll see you around. And yeah, it is good to be back!” Naomi had flashed him her most bewitching smile as she’d turned around and walked off quickly in the direction of the house, aware that Tony still stood watching her.
“He told me later that did it for him,” Naomi beamed at Claire. “He said he was furious with himself for acting like such a dolt, and that he’d then spent all that afternoon not continuing to work on the spare generator while he thought about me. And that was it! We made out before the end of the summer and the rest, as they say, is history. Of course it hasn’t been plain sailing, but Tony’s always been so open about his wife and his daughter – we talk about things, and we seem to get over them.”
Claire was astonished. It seemed so simple for Naomi – so straightforward. The easy way she’d just said ‘we made out’… no trace of guilt, no soul-searching… Was that what love could be like, with no confusion? Why was it so complicated and strained between her and Seth? Or was it simply as she’d said, that it had worked because she and Tony had been so completely honest with one another? If she could be certain that Seth wanted what she did, that their priorities were compatible, that she wouldn’t have to sacrifice the biggest, most stable part of her life for him: her faith… Maybe then things would be simple. But those ‘if’s seemed insurmountable. Things would never be that uncomplicated between Seth and her, she resigned. There were too many undercurrents – and he just didn’t have faith in anyone, let alone God. How could he ever love her as she wanted, needed to be loved, if he cut himself off so completely from any emotional contact? Claire screwed up her feelings, loathe to dampen Naomi’s spirits.
After lunch, still bubbling over with happy memories, Naomi admitted that she was keen to telephone Tony again – and Claire was glad not to feel bad for running out on her to paint. Agreeing to meet her friend back in the room at about five o’clock, Claire grabbed her bag of artistic paraphernalia and made her way back to the gorge that had so enraptured her the day before. If anything could stop her over-thinking, that could.
For minutes, Claire just stared at the awesome beauty of the azure-blue sky and the tumbling waters. Choosing a bench that gave her a good view of the Falls, she was soon absorbed in her sketching. Soon she had entered a mindspace that seemed to consist of only her and the scene she was capturing, as she always did when she was drawi
ng or painting. Oblivious to the passing people, Claire began to commit the incredible beauty of the Falls to paper. Well over an hour had passed before she began to be satisfied with her work, but eventually Claire began to see that the beauty she was creating and that she perceived around her resembled one another faithfully. Relaxing, she turned the page and gave in to her subconscious. Almost without being aware of it, she found herself outlining a portrait of Seth. Obviously, she admitted to herself, the hours she had thought she’d blocked him from her mind had been deceptive. Seth’s strong features stared arrestingly at her through the gentle mist. Claire had captured perfectly the aura of power that seemed to flow from him, the depths of his brown eyes and the rugged strength of his jawline. Claire savoured the image, tracing with a tender finger the curve of his mouth before she fully realised what she was doing. She hurriedly turned to another blank page. Determinedly blocking the compelling image from her mind, she began to try to capture a different angle of the Falls with her pencil.
Time flew by once again and too soon, checking her watch, Claire saw that she would shortly have to make her way back to the hotel. Turning back her pages, she scrutinised her afternoon’s work. Of the four sketches she had completed, two would make suitable gifts for her aunt once she filled them in. At last, she allowed herself to gaze again at the face that haunted her every moment. Sighing resignedly, Claire packed up her things.
She allowed her thoughts to continue to dwell on Seth as she sipped tea in the hotel room, waiting for Naomi to return too. She missed him; she craved just a glimpse of his face in the flesh. Bewildered that this man had suddenly become essential to her existence, Claire stared unseeingly out at the sky. The sound of the door opening forced her back to reality.
“Hi there,” Naomi greeted her cheerfully, flinging her handbag into a chair. “Did you get some pictures done?”
With forced brightness, Claire answered, “Yes – I did, thanks. I hope after seeing them Aunt Ellen will want to come here, and see the Falls for herself; I’ve just been pining at the thought of leaving them! How was your afternoon?”
Pouring herself a cup of tea, Naomi settled onto her bed. “I decided to drive over and see my friend Judith – she lives over in Livingstone. It was great seeing her again. We went to school together, and have been friends for years. She got married last year, and she’s expecting her first child already! Funny how women become obsessed with babies, isn’t it? It was difficult to get Judith to talk about anything else. Her whole life revolves around Andrew and the baby – and it isn’t even born yet! It was good to see her, though.” Naomi paused for breath, and looked up from her teacup to lock eyes with Claire, smiling. “Come on, then – let me have a look at your sketches.”
There was no way Claire could slip the picture of Seth out of her book, she knew, and no reason she should refuse Naomi’s interested request. Reluctantly placing the sketch pad into Naomi’s outstretched hand, she sipped her tea nervously, waiting for the response. Suddenly unable to sit still, Claire left the bed and made for the bathroom, mumbling, “I think I’ll have a quick shower before we go for dinner.”
Flicking open the pad, Naomi looked appreciatively at the first sketch of the Falls. The beauty of the gorge had been truly captured. Even in the monochrome pencil strokes, she could almost see the rainbows that hung in the droplets of the mist. The second drawing had focused more closely on the churning water at the foot of the cliffs, and the third… Turning the page, the face of Naomi’s brother dominated her view. The uncanny likeness that Claire had sketched from memory caused a shiver to run down her spine. Again, she wondered what on earth was going on between the two of them. Admiring the other sketches loudly in the direction of the bathroom door, Naomi decided to keep her curiosity to herself – for the time being.
Claire lingered in the shower, letting the warm jets of water sooth her tense body. A knock on the door startled her. “Claire, in ten minutes we have to be at the pick-up point. If we miss the bus, we miss the cruise – hurry up!”
The cruise! She’d completely forgotten! “Okay, I’ll be ready soon,” Claire shouted back. Hurriedly drying herself and releasing her hair from its top-knot, she pulled her shorts and Croccarosity tee on, and left the room with Naomi ten minutes later – relieved that, in the rush, nothing more had been said about her pictures.
A group of about twenty people was already on the tour bus so, unable to find two seats together, Claire and Naomi sat wherever they could. The sun had already begun to sink in the sky as the coach pulled away, beckoning the night to fall. Claire sat quietly and listened to the rowdy group of Americans behind her, glad not to be able to hear herself think for a moment. But soon the noisy bus ride was over and, rejoining one another, Naomi and Claire boarded the riverboat.
The craft was nothing more than a big raft, with lower and upper decks, but waiters dressed in black-and-white uniforms started offering drinks as soon as the passengers boarded. The tour guide informed the group that the cruise would take around an hour and a half, and that they were about two kilometres upstream from the Falls. He advised them all to keep their eyes open, as lots of wildlife made itself visible at this time of the day. Taking his words on board, Claire and Naomi made their way to the top deck, and the railing closest to the bank. The engines started, and they were off. As the raft chugged slowly up the Zambezi River, Naomi and Claire leaned against the rail. The sun hung low on the horizon, and the sky was now light blue, shot with streaks of red. Slowly, crimson shades faded to pink and the sky became tinted with grey.
Before Claire’s eyes, the display of colours continued to flow and change. Lifting her camera, she took some photos, capturing forever the wonder of the sunset – but then Naomi nudged her urgently. Turning to see what she wanted, Claire noticed that the boat had entered a placid pool of water. At the side of the pool a group of bulbous grey hippos rolled and snorted. Barely having time to snap some pictures of them, Claire found her attention once more diverted by Naomi. On the bank lay a huge, ugly crocodile, catching the last rays of the sun. Further up the river, another swam lazily across the water. Then loud trumpeting and intermittent squealing noises rent the twilit evening. Entranced, Claire caught her first sight of a majestic African elephant when a herd made its way to the water’s edge.
Intent on watching the endearing calves sucking water into their trunks, Claire did not notice the American who planted himself close next to her. His voice shattered the stillness, loud and out of place in the peaceful evening.
“Howdy do, pretty lady!” the man bellowed, and Claire jumped. “I’m Pete Johnston, and I’m mighty pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Unable simply to ignore him, Claire warily placed her hand into his extended palm. “Hi… I’m Claire,” she answered. Shaking her hand heartily, the obviously inebriated man seemed to think that he could now hang onto it indefinitely. Casting a pleading look in Naomi’s direction, Claire was distressed to see that her friend was engaged in a conversation with the guide. Nodding at Pete, Claire forcibly pulled her hand free from his clinging, clammy grasp.
Laughing uproariously, Pete leant closer and asked, “So, what do ya think of Africa, then? Great place, hey?”
Trying to ignore the alcohol fumes that wafted over her, Claire wished fervently that Naomi would take notice of the drunken man. Moving away, she answered tersely but truthfully, “Yes. Zimbabwe is an amazing country. I love it here.”
Eyeing her leeringly, Pete lisped out, “Where are you from, pretty lady? Say, what about you and me having dinner together, when we get back?”
Desperate now, Claire cast another look at Naomi. “I’m afraid I’m here with a friend, Pete…”
As if sensing her growing distress, Naomi chose that moment to look over at her. Gesturing frantically with her eyes, Claire begged Naomi to come and rescue her from the annoying, insistent Pete. Strolling over, Naomi linked her arm through Claire’s. Claire caught her whispered query: “Are you okay?”
&n
bsp; Nodding in relief, Claire watched as the tour guide came over to join them.
Addressing Pete loudly, with a knowing, sympathetic look back at the two girls, he engaged him in a conversation and minutes later led him away. The guide gave Naomi and Claire an apologetic wink as he passed. Relieved, Claire thanked Naomi for her timely intervention.
Naomi laughed. “Really, Claire, you must be more assertive! Especially when it comes to drunk men – they’re so thick-skinned. Why didn’t you just tell him to go away?”
Claire shrugged helplessly. She wasn’t, she supposed, used to confrontation at all – but telling Naomi that would have felt… well, confrontational. The awkward incident over, though, she was soon distracted by a herd of buffalo. The reddish black-brown animals resembled cattle except for their thick horns, curled upwards over their eyes like an elaborate hairstyle. Claire filed this away with an inward smile, for future illustrations. Then a shriek made her aware that the tree-lined banks were also teeming with monkeys: almost every tree was full of the swinging, twittering little creatures.
Reaching another pool, the raft turned slowly around. In the twilight of the return journey, Claire caught only glimpses of animals at the water’s edge. Distant splashes, and the cry of numerous fish eagles, heralded the close of another day.
Impunzi
At Impunzi, Seth ate another solitary dinner in his study. Today, unlike the previous afternoon, had passed in a blur of activity. His chagrin pushing him tirelessly, Seth had managed to accomplish more in the last eight hours than he had done almost since Claire’s arrival. Often during the day his thoughts had dwelled on her. He had given up trying to banish her from his mind. But instead of a mute this now acted as a stimulant on his productivity, and the light in the study burned brightly until after one in the morning. Reviewing their bookings for the coming season, he had realised that he would probably have to make a trip overseas to recruit more clients, and was trying to square it with his overwhelming, and studiously unexamined, desire to stay. Eventually, totally exhausted and still battling with a lingering headache, Seth made his way upstairs to bed – his last conscious thought being that, in one more day, Claire would be back at Impunzi.
Claire's Prayer Page 13
