Love's Golden Spell

by William Maltese

  She stepped from the tepid water and dried herself, dressed in a pale green blouse and gray slacks, then left her room.

  The restaurant was deserted. The research team would be in the field, her camera crew with them. Most of the soldiers ate in their own mess. Christopher was in his room sleeping. Janet welcomed the peace and quiet; she didn’t feel like talking.

  “Yes, please?” It was the waiter.

  “Is the restaurant open?” she asked. Nodding, he led her into the dining room, showed her to a booth, and handed her a menu. It was the same booth in which Christopher had joined her for breakfast the morning of the stampede. Everything had been made so right between them then. The drive had been marvelous, sixteen years gradually melting away. Illusion. Those sixteen years had burned indelible imprints on both their psyches, and Janet had to decide if anything was salvageable. If so, she had to decide if the remains were enough.

  She was eating a chicken sandwich when the Land Rovers pulled up in the hotel parking lot. She watched through the window as the research team and her camera crew piled out, Jill and Tim laughing at something Roger was saying. Janet wanted to live a normal life, as they did, not haunted by her past. The two crews made beelines for their rooms, anxious to wash and eat.

  Janet wasn’t ready to talk business, discuss the day’s shooting or rehash her narrow escape. She left the restaurant, keeping to the edge of the road. She prayed no one would see her, and no one did.

  She reached the guardhouse that overlooked the entrance to the ruins. There were no guards on duty. The barricade was tilted in an upright position. Since the area was virtually a military encampment, there was no traffic control at this point. Anyone who hadn’t heard that the entire Great Zimbabwe Reserve and the ruins were sealed off was stopped long before reaching this spot in the road.

  To her left, across a wide stretch of uncultivated field, was the Acropolis. Janet picked out the walls erected on natural bedrock. In the fourteenth century A.D., that fortress had been part of a flourishing community. The valley had teemed with activity and people—some ten-thousand residents. Six centuries later, the population had shrunk drastically.

  An empire could rise, flourish and fall in a few hundred years. Change sometimes happened overnight. That’s how long it had taken at Lionspride. She had gone to bed one night, only to be shaken awake by her father. The next morning they were gone. There had been no time for goodbyes. Christopher had been sleeping. They were supposed to have gone horseback riding the next morning.

  She spotted a Land Rover leaving the military camp, heading toward her. She stepped deeper into the shadows of the trees and remained there until the vehicle passed. The lone driver was no one she knew. She had expected Craig. She especially didn’t want to talk to him. Her decisions were hers to make, and she didn’t want to be influenced. She knew what Craig thought. He wanted her to take advantage of an opportunity to convert Christopher in order to benefit wildlife preservation. Well, things weren’t that simple. There was more at stake than the influence Christopher could wield in saving animals. Craig didn’t know that, and Janet wasn’t prepared to fill him in.

  She bypassed the tents of the encampment, heading away from the Acropolis, since she didn’t have the energy to make the climb. She moved instead toward the Great Enclosure, along the pathway that meandered through some minor ruins, once part of a sprawling city complex.

  Even during tourist season, there were few out at his time of the afternoon. It was summer. The equator was only a few hundred miles to the north. It was hot; the temperature was nearly ninety. Whenever possible, Janet stayed in the shade.

  The Great Enclosure was impressive this close up. Before she had only seen it from the air. At ground level the walls dwarfed her.

  She circled to the Northwest Entrances. The interior was open to the sky, resembling a courtyard. The grass was surprisingly green in the heat of midday. Tall milkwood trees beckoned with their enticing blots of shade.

  She turned left, entering the welcome coolness of the Parallel Passage, a pathway between walls that were high enough to keep the sun out most of the day. Apparently the builders hadn’t been satisfied with the first wall and had begun the second, leaving the walkway between. The passage extended around a good third of the circle, opening onto the courtyard of the Conical Tower.

  Janet chose a pile of rocks and sat down. The sun couldn’t reach her. There was a breeze blowing somewhere in the overhanging branches, rustling the leaves. This setting was meant to be shared, but Janet was alone. She had always been alone, even when she was married. After Bob’s death she had made few friends outside the television business. There had been men, mostly inconsequential. She didn’t remember their faces or their names. She saw them for a movie or for dinner, and that was it. Few returned, none she cared to see again. Her aloneness was cultivated. Her good looks and position would have given her access to a lot of people and places, but she never bothered. She returned to the same dream world she had enjoyed prior to her marriage.

  Always she had planned to come back to Africa. Always she had avoided whatever ties might divert her from that objective. Only once in her life had she faltered, convincing herself she was ridiculous to devote so much time to daydreams. That’s when she had married Bob, and regretted it afterward. He was a deterrent, someone to keep her fantasies in check, and that was no basis for a lasting relationship. It put unfair pressure on him, continually forcing him to compete with fantasies Janet had had before and during their marriage. When he died, she had felt guilty that she’d given him so little. And, yet, she had given him all she could.

  There came a time when she thought not even Christopher could live up to the ideal that she had embellished with years of fantasy. At that moment, she had felt safe in arranging her return to Africa—on the one hand, hoping to prove he wasn’t the Adonis she made him out to be, and on the other, hoping to prove he was. Either way, she had wanted the certainty only a revisit could give her.

  Well, she was in Africa now. She had returned to Lionspride, even to Victoria Falls. She had seen Christopher sixteen years after the fact, and the magic hadn’t died. He loved her, and she loved him with a mature woman’s love. It should be so simple. Love should conquer all, but it didn’t. There were sixteen years to consider. She hadn’t read his letters. She hadn’t answered them. She hadn’t paved the way for fairy-tale endings.

  Suddenly she was startled out of her reverie. Realizing she was no longer alone, she looked up quickly. Dr. Nhari was standing a few feet away with an embarrassed look on his face. “I’m afraid I disturbed you,” he said apologetically. “I was about to sneak away.”

  “Don’t go,” she said. She didn’t want to be alone, after al1. She kept coming back to the impossibility of her relationship with Christopher. “I wasn’t reflecting on anything too important,” she said. What a—mammoth lie! “Mainly daydreaming. The spot is certainly conducive to it.”

  “How are you feeling, then?” he asked in his clipped English accent. He chose a place nearby and sat down. “That stampede was quite an experience for all of us.”

  “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” Janet answered. At least physically that was true. “How did it go today in the field?”

  “Quite well. We made it through the whole morning without one explosion, or stampede, or dead elephant. We tagged another elephant with a transmitter, and I’m inclined to believe its group is the last of the lot. We can begin serious transferring of elephants to Wankie within the week if Captain Sylo doesn’t decide to interrupt our schedule.”

  “Christopher says Craig will possibly move us all out to enforce more stringent security here,” Janet said. Her hope of getting Christopher off her mind wasn’t succeeding. He was too much a part of everything—too much a part of Africa, too much a part of her past and her present. She wanted him to be part of her future.

  “Captain Sylo thinks that by moving us out he’ll be better protecting the elephant,” Dr. Nhari sai
d, shaking his head doubtfully. “The only thing that will save these elephants is getting them out of here and to Wankie. He can’t do that. I can.”

  “He’s thinking of our safety, too,” Janet reminded the doctor. She felt obliged to defend Craig, ever though she no more approved of what he was considering than Dr. Nhari did. Janet’s objections were less concerned with the speedy transfer of elephants than with the cutting short of her time with Christopher.

  “Yes, I suppose he is,” Dr. Nhari said with a loud sigh. “And when those elephants came charging, I was willing to see the man’s point. However, today I’ve regained my courage. And you?”

  “Me, too,” she said, and smiled. She didn’t want to leave Great Zimbabwe—not yet. If it meant facing another herd of stampeding elephants, then so be it!

  “Good for you!” he said. He left the subject of elephants to turn to another obviously as close to his heart. “And what do you think of the ruins?” He waved his arms at not only the immediate relics but also at those scattered farther afield.

  “Magnificent!” Janet admitted. “I’ve wanted to see them for years.”

  “We’ll go to Great Zimbabwe,” Christopher had told her. “Father’s pilot can fly us there in no time.” They never made it. Her father shook her awake one night, and the next day she was gone. Not enough time. There still wasn’t.

  “Yes, quite impressive,” Dr. Nhari agreed. “So much so that it took three-hundred years for the authorities to admit the ruins were the remains of a city built by the Shona.” He spoke with the bitterness of an African long denied his rightful heritage. “They attributed the city of Great Zimbabwe to Semetic builders from the Mediterranean, or to the Sabaeans, or to the Phoenicians—even to the Egyptians. When radiocarbon dating eliminated the Phoenicians, Sabaeo-Arabians, and pre-Muslim Arabs, there were still diehards who refused to give credit where credit was due.” He looked embarrassed, a smile and uplifted palms asking her for forgiveness. “That does sound bitter, doesn’t it?” he said. He laughed but soon regained his seriousness. “My Shona forefathers built Great Zimbabwe, and I’m extremely proud of that fact.” He came to his feet. “Shall we walk, or would you rather I left you to yourself?”

  “Let’s walk,” Janet said, standing up to join him. She would think out things about her and Christopher later. She had until supper, at the very least.

  They skirted the Conical Tower and proceeded through a ruined doorway that gave access to an expanse of lawn. The Great Outer Wall circled inward to the left of them.

  “I was born here,” Dr. Nhari commented. “Oh, not here in the Great Enclosure, mind you, but nearby.”

  “I think Dr. Cunningham mentioned that in Salisbury,” Janet said.

  “Yes, I suspect he did,” Dr. Nhari said, a gleam in his eye. “He told you to tread carefully and not suggest in front of me that the ruins were anything but a city of native origin. Yes?”

  “Well, as it turns out, I happened to concur, even before Dr. Cunningham’s forewarnings,” Janet said, pleased to see his face light up with satisfaction.

  “Dr. Cunningham is a fine man,” Dr. Nhari remarked. “A great diplomat, which is what he must be to work within the bureaucracy. If he met someone at a cocktail party who insisted the city at Great Zimbabwe was built by Martians, he would smile politely and neither agree nor disagree. On the other hand, I would certainly take immediate exception, which is why Dr. Cunningham sits behind his impressive desk in Salisbury and I get to bore a beautiful young woman in the field.”

  “I’m hardly bored,” Janet protested. She admired Dr. Nhari tremendously. Dr. Cunningham insisted the man could have a post behind a Salisbury desk whenever he expressed the slightest interest in one.

  They exited from the West Entrance and walked as far as the Ridge Ruins before stopping. Dr. Nhari pointed over a low wall to where a large rock was balanced against another, reminiscent of the toppled prehistoric ruins scattered across Europe. “One by one, we went into the darkness beneath that overhanging rock,” Dr. Nhari said, “and had our fortunes told by an old man who tossed worn stones and bones in the dust. How times have changed!” He pointed to trees in the distance. “My parents had a hut over there. It was part of a village. The village was considered an eyesore when the tourists started coming to Great Zimbabwe in earnest. So the village was moved—lock, stock and barrel. We no longer came to the rock to have our fortunes told. And that, my dear, is progress!”

  He looked at her, his eyes sparkling amusement. “Ah, you say, sour grapes! But you’re wrong. It’s acceptable to reflect upon the past on occasion, even if it’s neither desirable nor preferable to wallow in such memories. The present is never as perfect, but it’s all we have. Yes?” She knew what he meant, but she had more trouble dissociating herself from her past.

  They continued along a pathway leading to the hotel. Janet stopped, not yet ready to go back. “Don’t walk in the sun too long at a stretch, will you?” Dr. Nhari warned. He was politely acknowledging his dismissal.

  “I’ll be careful,” she assured him.

  “And a word of advice,” he said kindly. “Don’t let the plight of these animals get the best of you. It’s tragic, yes. We must do all we can, yes. But extinction isn’t anything new. Where is the saber-toothed tiger? Where is the Tyrannosaurus-rex? Where is the dodo? A change in climate killed them. A meteorite killed them. Disease killed them. Stronger animals killed them. What is man but a stronger animal? Who’s to say it isn’t his right to kill all that is weaker?”

  “Or to save them,” Janet injected.

  “Yes, or to save them,” Dr. Nhari agreed. “Man does seem to have that choice, doesn’t he? But in the end whatever he decides is all part of a greater plan. A plan over which man—and that includes you and me—has no control whatsoever.”

  As far as animals were concerned, Janet found some solace in what he said. But when she applied his precepts to her relationship with Christopher, his philosophy was little consolation. The idea that she might be part of some preordained plan, no matter what she did, left her cold—although she sometimes wondered if this wasn’t the case, considering how things had worked out for her. She had known so little happiness until now. It didn’t seem likely that she could expect any future improvements from the same master plan.

  She backtracked through the Ridge Ruins to the Great Enclosure. She didn’t enter the walled circle but skirted the outside. Nine hundred thousand blocks made up the enclosure—the equivalent of two and a half million bricks, or forty-five normal-sized houses. The fact that no mortar had been used made the stacks of stone even more impressive.

  She walked through a series of minor ruins: the Plateau Ruins, the Mauch Ruins, the Phillips Ruins, and the Mauhd Ruins. A labyrinth of low walls overgrown with vegetation, they were of more interest to archaeologists than tourists. The pathways were blocked with rubble and tall grass, the perfect hiding place for the snakes that Janet hated. But she didn’t turn and run in fear. The last time she’d done that, an elephant had died. There were no elephants here. Too many people had traipsed through these ruins over the years. Elephants had retreated deeper into the reserve. Soon there would be no elephants in all of Great Zimbabwe. They would be transferred to Wankie, or they would be dead. If gold were found, there’d be no Great Zimbabwe Reserve at all.

  The ruins this far off the beaten path had sameness. One rock was much like another, and Janet welcomed the redundancy. It allowed her to think of other things. Time was short; there were decisions to be made.

  Despite the warren-like nature of the maze, there was little chance of getting lost. Going eastward meant keeping the distant dirt road on her left. She stopped to rest beneath a large milkwood tree in the East Ruins. She picked off the miniature seedpods clinging tenaciously to her clothing from her waist down. They had hitched a ride during her hurried walk through high grass and weeds. When her grooming was complete, she stayed where she was. It was comfortable in the shade, and the sunshine beyond was extreme
ly hot in its bright and glaring beauty.

  There was a good view of the Acropolis from where she sat. She was determined one day to make it to the top. But not today.

  Seated there in that spot where few tourists bothered to explore, she decided to go for broke and tell Christopher everything. She should have done so long ago. She had set herself up for more heartache by delaying this long. Had she spoken at the outset, his rejection would have come after she’d prepared sixteen years for it. Now things were more complicated. He admitted to loving her. She admitted to loving him. It would make his rejection all the more painful. If she let their relationship progress without saying anything, she risked a rejection at a future date when she would be even less able to handle it. Possibly she was already beyond handling it, but nothing would grow easier with more delay.

  She couldn’t settle for less than she needed from a man and a lover. She’d already made that mistake. She needed complete love. He must accept the thirteen-year-old girl inside her, understand and forgive her betrayal sixteen years earlier.

  But Christopher was his father’s son, and Vincent Van Hoon hadn’t been a forgiving man.

  Her resolve to confess, so strong beneath the milkwood tree, weakened with each step taken toward the hotel and Christopher. But perhaps the more time she gave him to love Janet Westover, the more likely he was to overlook the faults of Janet Kelley.

  She checked her wristwatch. It was almost five o’clock. In two hours she would see him over supper. He would sit across the table from her, his golden hair catching candlelight and holding it, his golden eyes reflecting flickering flame, his dimples sinking in his tanned cheeks whenever he smiled. He would hold her hand. He would tell her he loved her. No matter how much that love lacked completeness, Janet couldn’t risk losing it by admitting she was an unwanted ghost from his past.