Love's Golden Spell

by William Maltese

  “I’m riding with Craig to Fort Victoria,” she said when she reached her group.

  “We know!” they chimed in unison. “He told us.” Janet laughed. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Now that’s the Janet we remember!” Roger said approvingly—which wasn’t true, she knew. Her laughter had an unfamiliar brittleness.

  “I’m trying my best to get back into the groove,” Janet said. Leaving Africa and Christopher would help. “You’ve all been marvelous, by the way.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Roger replied. He would have said more, but Jill interrupted.

  “Here comes guess who!” she announced. Janet turned, expecting Christopher. How foolish to hope at the last minute! It was Craig. Since everything was packed, he wanted them to be on their way.

  “Ready?” he asked. Janet didn’t know. She was tempted to stay, even knowing it was hopeless.

  “Yes,” she lied. She walked with him to the lead Land Rover and climbed in. There was no staying. She had given it her last shot and had come up with nothing. It was time to move forward, get on with her life and jettison the excess. To Christopher, she was excess already jettisoned.

  Craig kept his word. They didn’t talk about Christopher or the poachers. Avoiding those subjects, they had little else to say. It was just as well, because Janet didn’t feel like talking.

  The plane was waiting. It took a while to load baggage and TV filming equipment, so everyone waited in the terminal. They drank coffee and soft drinks.

  It was eleven o’clock by the time they began boarding. Janet had surrendered all hope of Christopher’s showing up for final goodbyes. Craig walked her to the gate, Janet lost in the pain of frustrated love. Craig was occupied with thoughts of his own. “Too bad this couldn’t have worked out better for all of us,” he said finally.

  “Yes, isn’t it?” Janet agreed. He kissed her cheek, and that was that. Janet joined the line of people filing across the runway.

  “I expected you two to come up with a better show than that,” Jill chided, catching up to Janet.

  “What?” Janet responded absently. Her mind was elsewhere. She hoped to forget Christopher one day, but it was still too early. She couldn’t blot his image out of her mind, couldn’t forget how devastatingly sexy he looked with his shirt off and his belt unfastened.

  “My brother gives me more affectionate good-bye kisses,” Jill criticized her playfully.

  “Yes? Well, Craig is less than my brother, isn’t he?”

  “So where’s Christopher?” Jill asked hopefully “I’ll bet he could do better.”

  “He’s still out looking for gold,” Janet said, attempting flippancy.

  Jill’s disbelieving shake of her head showed what she thought of that. Jill was a romantic, and romantics were freaks in an age of jaded realists, Janet reflected wryly. No one came to Africa and married the big white hunter, except in movies and storybooks.

  The plane was large and spacious. Jill sat with Tim. Roger didn’t insist that Janet join him, and she chose a seat by herself. Her window faced away from the terminal. She buckled her seatbelt, closed her eyes and settled back. It had boiled down to this, and she had wanted so much more. Too bad Christopher couldn’t deliver, but why should he? She had deserted him sixteen years before without a word. She had been naive to expect his open arms once her secret was out. She should have been content with second best. That was better than nothing.

  The plane taxied along the tarmac to the end of the runway. It made a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn and stopped. The engines revved for takeoff, and Janet waited. The vibrations and the sounds died. “Did someone forget something?” Roger asked in the calm. Janet opened her eyes. Everyone turned toward her side of the plane, which now faced the terminal. A Land Rover and truck were headed for the aircraft. The truck carried boarding stairs piggyback. Despite Janet’s hopes, the Land Rover was driven by Craig, not Christopher.

  “Mrs. Westover?” The unfamiliar voice startled her. The pilot stood at the front of the aisle. He located her by the curious glances suddenly cast in her direction. “Will you please come forward for a minute?” he requested.

  “You making off with the silverware again, Janet?” Roger asked. He got a howl of laughter from the passengers. Even Janet smiled.

  The pilot waited for her by the door. Outside, someone jockeyed the stairway into position. “What’s this all about?” Janet asked.

  The pilot shrugged. “Instructions from the flight tower,” he said and opened the door.

  Craig was on the other side. “Craig?” Janet queried. The word asked a lot.

  “Captain, will you excuse us for a minute?” Craig asked. The pilot returned to the cockpit, and Craig motioned Janet out onto the stairway for more privacy. “Christopher called from the hotel,” he said. Chills danced along Janet’s spine. The sound of Christopher’s name released the usual flood of emotions inside her.

  “What’s that got to do with me?” she managed.

  “He doesn‘t want you to leave,” Craig said. He flashed an I-told-you-so smile, but Janet didn’t believe him.

  “Why didn’t he tell me himself?” she asked. She had just faced up to her loss, and now this. It wasn’t fair!

  “He plans to tell you himself,” Craig said. “He’ll be here in fifteen minutes if he drives as fast as I expect. I won’t hold the plane, but whether you leave on it or not is your decision. At least you’re aware of your alternative.”

  It was hope where there was none. Only more pain and heartbreak loomed ahead, and Janet had suffered enough. If Christopher wanted her to stay, he would have said something before now.

  “His Land Rover broke down early this morning,” Craig said. “He was out driving at the time—without my knowing; his cell phone with no signal,” he added. Janet knew the significance and danger of that. Already Christopher had forgotten the lesson learned by the wounding of Paul Spencer. “He had to walk back to the hotel. We were gone by the time he got back.”

  Janet shook her head. She wanted to believe, but she couldn’t. Things didn’t happen this way in real life.

  “He sounded sincere,” Craig judged. He checked his watch. “We should let these people get on their way.”

  “My suitcase?” Janet said. She was, stalling. Her bag was the least of her worries. There was the prospect of additional heartache to consider. Clean separations between people were the best—but that wasn’t true, either. She’d left Lionspride sixteen years before with no goodbyes, and she’d regretted it ever since.

  “Your bag can be flown back on the first commercial flight,” Craig said, predictably.

  “Let me tell Roger I’m staying,” she said. It was the only decision she could make. Even the merest flicker of hope inside her had to be fanned.

  “It’s the right decision, Janet,” Craig assured her.

  Right or wrong, she’d made it.

  “So,” Roger asked when she reached him, “which one is it?” She pretended not to understand. “Captain Sylo or Van Hoon?” he asked with a laugh. Janet blushed.

  “Christopher,” she said. What else could she say? She didn’t have the time for feeble excuses, and she couldn’t leave without giving some reason.

  “Good!” he said, pleased. “I wouldn’t have said this before, but he’s the better man—richer, too. Don’t forget your poor camera crew when you make out the wedding invitations.”

  “It isn’t close to any wedding!” Janet said. Her expectations no longer matched the silly fantasies shared by Roger, Tim and Jill.

  “I don’t believe that,” Roger said. Janet wished she had his insight and confidence.

  “Believe it,” she told him, knowing she was running out of time. “I’ll call.”

  “Should we wait for you in Salisbury?”

  “No,” she said. “Go to Seattle and oversee the editing, will you? I’ll fix things with the boss myself. I have some holiday time coming to me anyway.”

  “And the an
gle for the piece?” Roger asked. He was enjoying himself. “It’s one thing to do a hatchet job on Christopher Van Hoon,” he explained, “but quite another to do one on the boss lady’s love. Why don’t we hold off on editing until you decide? We’ve enough shows in the can to start the new season. We can wait on this one.”

  “I’ll call you,” she repeated, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Van Hoon is the winner, everybody!” Roger announced loudly. Janet turned red. Everyone immediately applauded. He was impossible, but he was her friend.

  Craig drove her to the terminal. “It’s better if the two of you have time alone,” he said, always the diplomat. He rejoined his soldiers. The line of vehicles headed toward Great Zimbabwe. Behind Janet, the aircraft lifted into clear African skies.

  The terminal was deserted, between planes. Janet chose a chair that faced the doorway. Minutes ticked by with no Christopher. He wasn’t coming; he’d changed his mind. Craig had mistaken what Christopher had said over the telephone. There were numerous excuses for his not showing, and Janet ran through them all.

  She changed her seat. Watching water never made it boil faster, and the same principle applied here. If Christopher wasn’t coming, he wasn’t coming, and she wouldn’t make him appear by watching the roadway. She stared at the empty tarmac. Craig had said Christopher would be there in fifteen minutes. Those minutes were up.

  Suddenly he was there, and she realized with a jolt that she hadn’t really been expecting him. She didn’t believe he was standing in front of her. “I’m glad you waited,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t know if you would.”

  He wore faded jeans that molded his firm legs and hugged his slim waist. His khaki shirt was open almost to his waist, revealing his chest, which glistened with perspiration, as did his face and muscular arms. His blond hair clung to his damp forehead. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. “Oh, Christopher,” she moaned, “I thought it was over!”

  His arms supported her when she could no longer stand. He drew her close and kissed her hair while she inhaled the heady fragrance of his masculine scent. “Janet,” he whispered, “what a fool I’ve been!” She put her forefinger to his lips, excited by the touch and smell of him. She savored the moment in silence, afraid words would spoil it. However, they couldn’t stand where they were forever, and they both knew it. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand.

  They drove through Fort Victoria and into the surrounding farm country. They didn’t speak, and Janet was comfortable in the silence. Things needed saying, but all in good time. She didn’t know what to say anyway. She couldn’t explain her wondrous feelings.

  They passed two barricades manned by soldiers. At each, Janet’s and Christopher’s names were checked against a list of authorized personnel before they were allowed through. Until a few minutes earlier, Janet’s name hadn’t been on the list. Craig had added it once he knew she was returning with Christopher.

  Christopher pulled the car off the main road, after they entered the wilderness of the reserve, parking among the towering acacias. He waited until the dust settled around them and then turned to her. “I think I knew who you were all along,” he confessed. He touched her cheek gently with his fingertips. “Why did I react the way I did?” He shrugged. “Subconsciously knowing something and facing up to the reality are two different things. The fear comes when you’re on the threshold of something only dreamed of for sixteen years.”

  “Yes,” she said. She knew. Oh, yes, she knew!

  His fingers lingered lovingly against her cheek. “I wonder where we go from here,” he said.

  “We go to the hotel,” Janet said, more in control than she had ever been. Now that it boiled down to boy loves total girl, woman loves total man, no matter what the past or what the future, the moment demanded more than probing discussion.

  She kissed his fingers before he pulled them away. He started the Land Rover and drove them to the hotel.

  * * * * * * *

  HE LOCKED the door of his room behind them. A pair of his pants hung over the back of one chair. Beyond the open bathroom door, his toilet articles neatly lined the glass shelf above the sink. A pair of scuffed hiking shoes was on the floor at the foot of the bed, his blue jockey shorts from the day before casually tented on top of them. The draperies were open, but gauzy curtains allowed filtered sunlight to fill the room.

  “I need to shower,” he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her forehead. “My unscheduled walk this morning has left me less than fresh.”

  “It’s sexy,” she said, kissing the sweaty hollow of his neck. She slipped her hands into the opening of his shirt and explored the scalloped contours of his chest and stomach. “Very, very sexy,” she assured him, pulling back to look into his sunny eyes. “Did your Land Rover really break down this morning?” she asked. To think a faulty car had almost deprived them of this glorious moment!

  “It ran out of gas,” Christopher said, his fingers combing through the silky strands of her shiny black hair.

  “You’re supposed to have a woman along whenever you pull that old stunt,” Janet teased, rubbing her cheek against the velvety-smooth hardness of his chest.

  “I planned for the gas to run out,” he confessed. One of his nipples hardened as she kissed it. She was excited that he was excited. “I convinced myself that I didn’t want to get back to you in time,” he said. “When I changed my mind, I was almost too late.”

  “I’m glad you made it to a phone,” Janet said.

  “I’m the one who’s glad,” he replied, putting his forefinger beneath her chin and lifting her face to his. He kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her cheeks. He kissed her lips, the length of his body also kissing hers. His desire was sensually evident, so powerful that it was difficult to control. “About that shower?” he said; his voice low and gravelly with passion.

  “I’ll help you undress for it,” she said, feeling deliciously bold. She wouldn’t have suggested it to Bob. He would have been shocked by his wife wanting to undress him. Lovemaking with him had been less than adventurous. He got all the adventure he needed from his job without carrying it over into the bedroom. He had married Janet to give a sense of normalcy to his life. To Bob, home had been a quiet retreat, a place to escape to when the excitement of the outside world became too much to bear.

  Janet flattened her hands against the ripples of Christopher’s stomach and slid her fingers up over his chest to nudge his shirt off his broad shoulders. He pulled his arms from the short sleeves. The shirt hung from his waist, held there by two fastened buttons and the tuck of the shirttail in his trousers. Janet dislodged the material from beneath the waistband of his jeans. Without bothering with the buttons, she let the shirt drop around his feet.

  She remembered how he had loosened his belt buckle the night before, and she mirrored the procedure. She slipped her fingers beneath the front of the waistband to begin unzipping his jeans, and Christopher groaned in helpless response. An accompanying tremor went through his body. Her power over him made her more excited. Love was meant to be this two-way exchange, this give and take of pleasure, this mutual sharing of ecstasy.

  He groaned again when she slid the zipper down still farther. The backs of her fingers slid along his sensitized skin. His hand squeezed and released her shoulders in cadence with the waves of pleasure washing through him.

  Trembling, she finally had his jeans completely undone. She helped him wriggle out of them, revealing white shorts and the muscled columns of his legs.

  He leaned forward, nuzzling his mouth against the soft arch of her neck and kissing upward to her ear. “One small problem,” he whispered; his low-timbered voice sexy. Her heart stopped. “My pants won’t come off over my boots,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, relieved enough to giggle. The problem was funny, not tragic. She hadn’t undressed a man before, and she hadn’t thought it out beforehand. She had known what she wanted to see, and she had gone for it. Sh
e hadn’t thought of starting from the bottom and working up. So much for spontaneity! His golden eyes sparked with amusement as well as passion. “Why didn’t you tell me, you beast?” she said, her wide smile adding beauty to an attractively flushed face.

  “I was counting on this moment of levity to keep me from prematurely losing control,” he said, his smile deeply dimpling both cheeks.

  “How’s that?”

  “A guy can’t really get too carried away with his pants thoroughly binding his ankles, can he?” Christopher pointed out with a chuckle.

  “So where do we go from here?” Janet asked. Rather than diminishing her excitement, their light banter increased it. She had always suspected sex was more than the serious business Bob had insisted on making it, and a few brief moments with Christopher had already confirmed as much.

  “I can do my flamingo routine, standing on one leg at a time to take my boots off,” he suggested. “That’s good for a laugh. Or I can play duck and waddle to the nearest chair. Either of those strike your fancy?”

  “Is this happening?” Janet asked. Everything was too right, too perfect, too charmingly enjoyable.

  “Oh, yes,” he guaranteed, “and it’s going to get better. I promise.”

  “So which is quicker?” Janet asked, shaking her head. “Flamingo or duck?” Where had she been all of her life that she had missed the pure pleasure of such moments?

  “The duck routine is quicker,” he said. “Want to walk along to give me balance?”

  “I got you into this, didn’t I?” Janet reminded him. “The least I can do is give you a helping hand.”

  He put his arm around her neck and executed an exaggerated shuffle to the nearest chair. Janet couldn’t help laughing aloud. It was funny and exciting at the same time.

  She helped him off with both boots and freed his legs from the tangled pants and shirt, laughing all the while. She extended her hands to his, thrilling to the touch and squeeze of his fingers as he came to his feet. “I love you,” she said, her forefinger tracing a line from the hollow at the base of his throat to the indentation of his navel. Golden hair curled on his lower stomach, disappearing beneath his shorts.