Yes, I Do

by Gwynne Forster

  Her gaze shifted from his hand to his face. He didn’t know what she saw there, but he’d never seen a more serious expression on anyone. She might well have been judging, measuring him by what she found in his eyes.

  Stunned at her suddenly tense, prayerful expression, her unmistakable appeal to his decency, he squeezed her fingers. “Ginger, I’m an honorable man. No one has ever doubted that.”

  Her eyes widened, as though he’d surprised her by reading her so well and, at last, her damp fingers clasped his palm. Reluctantly. As tentatively as a baby taking its first step. “All right,” she said. “No promises. No confessions, and—”

  “And no regrets,” he finished. “Just one day together.”

  He thought she flushed with embarrassment, but why would she? He hadn’t suggested anything unseemly. “Ever been here or anywhere else in Africa before?” he asked for want of something more interesting to say. After all, he couldn’t talk about them without getting personal. She’d vetoed that.

  “I was in Kenya once, but I didn’t see much of it because the rain never let up, and there wasn’t much joy in walking around in a downpour. I did get to a place where some gnarled, old men sat carving clusters of people on a single piece of ebony wood. I bought one carving for ten dollars. Can you imagine the talent and work that went into it?”

  “Yes, I can. Let’s check out the museum when we get back to Harare. Look, I want to go to Victoria Falls tomorrow. Can’t you stay one more day and take the trip with me?” Why was he pursuing a relationship with this woman when he knew they would go their separate ways tomorrow or the next day? She didn’t move her hand from his but leaned against the window, turned sideways, and looked at him. She had the most penetrating gaze, and such lovely, light brown eyes punctuated her dark face. Everything about her beckoned to him.

  He liked the way she looked at a man, too. Straight in the eye. No coquettish nonsense. “I’ve heard that the Falls are unforgettable. We’ll see.”

  He should have relaxed into contentment, but instead he got an unfamiliar jolt of ill-defined anxiety, and he didn’t like it. But if she decided to go, he’d welcome her company.

  By noon, she’d had enough of lions, cheetahs, and alligators. Even her lunch included alligator croquettes. She ate it with relish and wouldn’t have guessed what it was if the waiter hadn’t been so proud of the great delicacy he had placed before them. She resisted telling him that she’d rather he’d told her it was ground turkey breast. They finished the meal, walked to the door of the rustic but attractively decorated lodge, and looked out at the darkened sky, almost black at one o’clock in the afternoon. A great roar rattled her eardrums, and she felt his hands on her, lifting her.

  Holding her tightly to his chest, he sprinted off the porch. “We’d better make a run for the bus. These storms can last for days.”

  Her arms found their way to his neck and locked themselves there. Strangely, she had the urge to rest her face in the curve of his neck and no doubt would have, if he hadn’t said, “Open the door. Quick!” as they reached the tour bus.

  Thanking God for presence of mind, she managed to slide the door open, and he jumped inside with her. “You can put me down now,” she told him as he continued carrying her until he reached their seats.

  He settled her on her feet. “Yeah. Looks like the other tourists got stuck in the lodge.” He sat beside her, and her shoulders tensed as his left arm curled around her and she could feel the heat of his fingers through her blouse.

  “I thought that noise was thunder.”

  “It was the rain announcing its arrival. Might as well relax, Ginger. We could be here for hours. The driver is in the lodge, or at least I hope he is. This rain brings out all kinds of crawling things. Look over there going up that—”

  “Will you please change the subject. I told you I was afraid of—”

  His hand tightened on her shoulder. “Gee, that’s right. I forgot.”

  What she’d intended as a quick glance settled on his face just before he laughed, and without thinking about it, she let her elbow give his chest a lesson. He laughed harder.

  “What’s so funny? Are you sadistic or something?”

  His shoulders shook as he tried but failed to control his mirth. “Me? No. It’s just that…you were actually scared. How on earth could anything out there get in this bus? Besides, I’m sitting here with my arm around your shoulder, and you actually thought I’d let that thing get to you. What kind of guys have you been hanging out with?”

  “I haven’t been hanging out with any guys, and would you please give me back my shoulder?”

  “Sure, so long as I can keep your hand. You wouldn’t begrudge me the comfort of your hand, would you? I could be scared of…of…let me see…I could be scared of…of all this rain.”

  “If you ask me, you’re a smart aleck.”

  He let out a long breath, and she wondered about that until he followed it up with quiet, deliberate words. “Better for me to tease you than to do what I’d like.”

  Her senses whirled dizzily, exciting her. Exhilarating her. Recklessly, she dared him to say it. “I had the impression that you’re man enough to do whatever you want.”

  His rapt stare, powerfully and wildly masculine in its challenge, rocked her. “And you were never more right,” he said as his right index finger tipped her chin.

  This thing was moving at the speed of sound, and she should move away, put out her hand, anything to stop him, but her traitorous mouth went to meet his lips, and both his hands locked behind her head as he warmed her from her head to the bottoms of her feet. She had never trembled for a man, but the tremors rolled through her, and her heart bounced out of control in her chest.

  He stopped kissing her and, still cradling her head with his hands, stared into her eyes. “If I ever get into serious trouble, it will probably be due to my failure to pass up an exciting challenge. Daring me can be the same as begging me, Ginger.”

  I don’t know this man, she reminded herself, regrouping as best she could. “Now that you’ve gotten it out of your system,” she told him, “you don’t have to think about it anymore. Wonder what time that museum closes?”

  This time, his laugh held no mirth. “You’re kidding. The way you responded to me? Woman, all that did was whet my appetite.”

  She withdrew the hand that he’d reclaimed. “Your imagination is out of control.”

  A wide grin revealed snow-white teeth and sparkles in his gray eyes. “Really? Well, I won’t dispute your word, but I’m willing to test it, see if I’m losing my perceptive skills. What about you?” His arms maneuvered around her shoulders again, and he leaned toward her.

  “All right. All right. So I knew you were here,” she admitted, shielding her emotions with the remark. “That kiss only proves I’m not dead.”

  His laughter curled around her like a protective blanket comforting her on a cool evening. As quickly as the laughter came, he sobered. “I could like you. Really like you, Ginger.”

  She could only shrug, because she already knew she wouldn’t soon forget him. “I’ve decided it must be a case of forbidden fruit.” She slapped her hand over her mouth, her nerves a riot at the thought that she might have reminded him of what that fruit did for Eve.

  The rain slackened, and the driver and five other tourists boarded the bus. “I’m going to have to head back to Harare,” the driver told them. “If the rain continues, the roads will be muddy, and we could get stranded out here. No refunds, though.”

  Ginger listened for grumbles, but didn’t hear any. She wasn’t sorry to get away from Jason and to work at getting her head straightened out. She hadn’t thought of herself as being vulnerable, but Jason had lowered her defenses from the minute she’d looked up and seen him holding that tray of fruit, porridge, and two cups of coffee.

  “Have dinner with me?” he asked as they entered the hotel lobby.

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll have a bite in my room. After th
at huge lunch, I don’t want much dinner.”

  He rubbed his right index finger across his chin and looked into the distance as though alone with his thoughts. Then he set his gaze on her, and the muscles in her stomach tightened as his grin crawled over his face.

  “It’s been great, girl of my dreams. Have a good life.”

  “I…thanks. You, too.” She scampered away from him, wanting to get a last look, but not daring to tempt herself.

  She rested, wrote some letters and ordered dinner in her room. She’d seen half a dozen women in the hotel who appeared to be unattached, and she didn’t doubt that some of them would be glad for his company. What woman wouldn’t want the company of such a handsome, intelligent man? She answered the door, and a porter handed her a bouquet of calla lilies to which an attached note read, Thank you for a day that I shall never forget. J.

  How could he know that she loved calla lilies? She broke off a petal, put it in one of the little plastic Ziploc bags that she always carried in her luggage and pressed it flat. It might be all she’d ever have of him. She would keep it forever, though she’d be better off if he hadn’t sent them. Just one more reason why she could never forget him.

  She was tempted to ignore the telephone, but after it rang a full two minutes she lifted the receiver. “Hello.”

  “You knew it was I, Ginger. Let’s not say goodbye yet. I still want to see Victoria Falls. The flight leaves at noon, and we’d get back just after nightfall. What about it? It’s something special that we’ll have to remember.”

  The brochure lay open on the desk before her. She looked at the picture of the Falls and thought how much more wonderful they must be in reality. Her gaze drifted to the bouquet of calla lilies, thoughts of what they would always represent swirled in her mind, and something deep inside of her wouldn’t let her say no.

  “All right. But no sweet stuff, Jason.”

  “A woman doesn’t have to tell me no,” he growled. “She only has to shake her head once. Get it? If I get sweet, you’ll have to suggest it. You going?”

  “Okay. And don’t be so self-righteous. The saints are all in heaven.”

  “Whatever. Meet you at breakfast? Say, around nine?”

  “I’m eating early. I want to go to the soapstone museum. See you on the plane. And, Jason, thank you for the beautiful flowers. I love them.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She hung up and considered kicking herself for agreeing to join him on that trip; she wanted to see the Falls, but she knew she wanted to see him more.

  The soapstone museum proved to be an outdoor factory and a tiny room in which the carvings were displayed in glass cases. All were for sale. She bought two small heads, one of an old woman and the other of a man with eighty years of toil and grief etched in his face. She paid the few dollars without bargaining, ashamed to have them for such a pittance. When she turned to leave, she faced Jason, who held his own purchases—an ebony free-form that would have been at home in New York’s Museum of Modern Art, a statue of mother and child, and one of an old man bowed beneath the weight of the heavy bag on his shoulder.

  He pointed to the latter. “This is for my father,” he said, affection abloom on his face as he caressed the figure.

  He loves his father, she thought. A second sense, or maybe it was a premonition, warned her: fate was shadowing her. She forced a smile, and told him he had good taste, but she could have said that in that short sentence he’d said a lot about himself and his background. They ate a lunch of roast chicken sandwiches, French fries, and iced tea at a nearby hotel and waited for the limousine to take them to the airport. Sunset found them at the Zambezi River looking at the Falls.

  “Want to take the cruise up the river?” he asked, the urgency in his voice pulling at the woman in her and pushing aside her common sense.

  She remembered her trip on Maid of the Mist at Niagara Falls and nodded. “I…I’d love it.”

  Her response seemed to energize him, for his wonderful face lit up with the sparkles in his eyes, and he threw an arm around her, lifted her from her feet, and spun her around. “I can hardly wait. Let’s go get our slickers.”

  They rented hats, boots, coats, and pants of heavy, yellow plastic and joined the cruise.

  “From what I can see,” he teased, “we’re the only couple here that isn’t honeymooning.”

  She glared at him and pointed to one couple. “They’re kissing because the gal is scared, and he doesn’t want her screaming.”

  Jason doubled up with laughter, put his arms around her wet slicker, and hugged her. Well, the whole thing was crazy. She hugged him back.

  The Sundowner cruiser took them along the spray at the entrance to the great gorge and into the ever changing rainbows that flexed their awesome beauty against the rays of the setting sun. He didn’t expect ever to see a sight that compared to it. He looked down at the woman whom he had folded to himself and whose hands gripped his biceps, hoping for the look of recognition that would tell him he’d found a kindred soul. He didn’t want to speak and spoil the moment, so he tipped her chin up with his right index finger and gasped when he saw the tears that cascaded down her cheeks. He wanted to kiss them away, but he only held her close to him. Who knew what memories, if any, the sight before them had triggered in her? The short cruise ended before they reached the river’s bend, and they watched the sunset. It didn’t surprise him that no words passed between them. What could anyone say in the presence of such beauty?

  He thought he understood her silence as the Fokker 12 flew them back to Harare. Once more, he didn’t want to say goodbye, and they would both depart the next day. At the elevator, he took her hand. “Have dinner with me this last night. I’m just not ready to say goodbye.”

  He held his breath as he waited for her answer. “Yes.” The word came out slowly, as if she were giving birth to something. “That would be nice. What time?”

  He let himself breathe. “Seven?”

  She nodded, and he let go of her hand. “See you right here at seven.”

  Ginger dressed carefully, knowing that she played with fire, because Jason could be the tornado that wrecked her life. Butterflies flitted around in her belly, and perspiration made ringlets of the hair at her temples. If you go down there, you’ll regret it, her mind warned. But she ignored all caution, slipped a dusty rose, sleeveless, chiffon minidress over her dark brown skin, bare but for a bra and bikini panties, dabbed some Opium perfume where it counted most, brushed her hair around her shoulders, and left the room.

  Good Lord, what a man! Elegant in a white linen suit, white shirt, and red tie, he filled her vision as she stepped from the elevator, his face wreathed in a welcoming smile. If he had opened his arms, she wouldn’t have hesitated until he’d wrapped her securely in them.

  You’re beautiful, he told her in unuttered words that seemed to come off the wings of his breath, but spoke loudly in his smile and demeanor. “I wish the place was crowded,” he said, “and hundreds of people could see what a lucky man I am.”

  He had ordered jacaranda blooms, the national flower, for their table. “What would you like?” he asked after she’d read the menu.

  A healthy helping of this wonderful man sitting across the table from me. “Roast duck, and whatever goes with it,” she said, knowing that he’d taken her appetite.

  She made herself eat it and noticed that he appeared to force down the veal scallopini. The rapport they’d had in the afternoon had deserted them. They looked at the few other tourists in the dining room, sipped their wine, and made insignificant small talk.

  At last, she had to stop pretending; “This is…I enjoyed the meal, Jason, and you’re wonderful company. I’d better say goodbye.”

  She attempted to push back her chair and stand, and he rushed to assist her. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek and headed for the elevator as fast as she could without actually running, but it was his hand that pushed the button, his hand that grasped hers and led her from the elevator.
At his room door, he took the key from his pocket, held it in his hand, and gazed into her eyes in a wordless entreaty for permission to open it.

  “This doesn’t make sense, Jason.”

  “I know. Nothing has made sense from the minute I laid eyes on you. Will you come in here with me?”

  She nodded, and he opened the door. Before it closed, he had her in his arms, where she wanted to be. At last, she could feel his fingers on her bare flesh, caressing, teasing until bolt after bolt of hot want tore through her. Why didn’t he kiss her?

  “I don’t play at this, Ginger, and I don’t make love lightly. I’m already fifty percent gone. Will you kiss me?”

  “I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

  “Then kiss me. Put your arms around me and kiss me.”

  The trembling of her lips betrayed her as she reached up to him, fastened her hands at the back of his head, and parted her lips. The force of it shook her, pummeled her loins like pellets of hot steel rocketing from a smelter’s fire. His tongue grazed her lips, and she took him into her mouth and knew the heat of his passion as he loved her until her strength ebbed, and she let him take her weight. His fingers went to the zipper at the back of her dress, and she froze. In four years of marriage, she hadn’t once wanted her husband as she wanted this man. She’d slipped up somewhere. She was a rational woman, and women who used their minds didn’t let themselves go wild with a stranger, one they’d never see again. The Ginger Hinds she knew wouldn’t make love with a man she hadn’t known for two whole days, no matter how much she wanted him. She couldn’t change into another person just because she was in Zimbabwe and not at home on New York City’s Roosevelt Island.

  As though he sensed her misgivings, he put an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. “You’ve changed your mind?”

  Was he going to be angry and unruly? No matter, she couldn’t do it. “About what I want? No, Jason. I want to be with you, but I can’t move so far out of character. All my life I’ve toed the line, lived a conservative life. I wanted nothing more than a piece of the American dream, and I worked hard for it, but it burst all around me. I came here to begin a change. I realize now that I set out to do something reckless, wild, unlike myself, and I can’t go through with it. I know I’ve disappointed you, and I’m sorry. You made a dent in me, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Will you forgive me?”