Their last night together was bittersweet. They had dinner in the private dining room, and talked about her plans. She asked him about some new economic policies he had just introduced, and what the parliament's reaction had been to them. He was pleased that she had asked, and enjoyed discussing it with her. But then it only reminded him again of how lonely his life would be without her. She hadn't even left yet, and he couldn't wait for her to get back. He wanted the coming months to speed past, and he knew they wouldn't. Without the bright sunshine she provided in his life, the days would drag. Selfishly, he was thinking of insisting that she come back after the initial six months, and when he mentioned it to her, she asked him to wait to decide. She might be ready to come back then herself, or need a few more months to finish whatever she started. She asked him to keep an open mind, and he agreed. Their exchanges were always reasonable, affectionate, and adult. In many ways, she was one of the main reasons he hadn't remarried. With Christianna to keep him company, and talk to him, he didn't need a wife, nor want one. And besides, he felt it was too late in his life to start again. Before that, he had been too busy. He was comfortable now as he was, although he would be far less so when she was gone. He kissed her goodnight, already mourning her absence, and they had breakfast together the next morning. She was wearing blue jeans for the long flight, and would probably wear nothing else for the next year. She had packed only one dress, just in case, two peasant skirts she had brought back from California, several pairs of shorts she had worn at school, a stack of jeans and T-shirts, hats, mosquito netting, insect repellents, her malaria medication, and sturdy boots and shoes to protect her from the dreaded snakes.
“This is no worse than when I used to go back to school in California after the holidays, Papa. Think of it that way,” she tried to console him. He looked so mournful and so sad before she left.
“I would prefer to think of you right here.”
He could barely speak when he said goodbye to her. He held her in a long hug, and she kissed his cheek lovingly, as she always did. “You know how I rely on you, don't you, Cricky? Take care of yourself.”
“I will. I'll call you, Papa. I promise. Take good care of yourself, too.” It was harder leaving him than she thought it would be, as a sob caught in her throat. She knew how much he needed her, and she hated leaving him alone. She knew how lonely it would be for him. But just this once, this one last time, before she took on her royal duties forever, she needed her own life.
“I love you, Cricky,” he said softly. And with that, he turned to the two bodyguards standing next to her, with a stern look. “Stay close to her at all times.” There was no mistaking his orders. They were the same two young men who had accompanied her to Russia, Samuel and Max. They were as excited as she was about their new adventure, and she was comfortable and resigned about having them with her. Her father had been intransigent about that. It was the one condition on which he would not relent, so Christianna did at last. She felt slightly foolish having two bodyguards with her, but the director of the Red Cross camp had said he perfectly understood the need for it. He was extremely sensitive to her situation, and had assured her by e-mail that he would not divulge who she was. He was the only one who would be aware that her passport bore no last name, which might have given her away to those who were aware of such things, though they were usually rare. Marque had been singularly aware of that, as she had worked with royals before. Others weren't. But Christianna was taking no chances. The one thing she didn't want anyone to know was that she was a princess. She wanted to be treated the same as everyone there. She didn't want anyone calling her Your Serene Highness or ma'am, and surely not her bodyguards, who were masquerading as fellow volunteers, friends who were coming with her. Christianna had thought of everything and covered all her bases. And thus far, the director of the facility had been totally cooperative with her to that end.
“I love you, Papa,” she said as she got into the car, and her father closed the door. He had wanted to come to the airport with her, but had to meet with all his ministers that morning, about the economic policies he and Christianna had discussed the night before. So he was saying goodbye to her at the palace.
“I love you too, Cricky. Don't forget that. Take good care of yourself. Be careful,” he warned again, and she smiled, and leaned out the window to kiss his hand. The bond they had formed in the years since her mother's death was unseverable, and unusually close.
“Goodbye!” she called out and waved as they drove away. He stood and waved until the car went through the gates, turned, and disappeared, and then with his head bowed, he walked slowly back into the palace. He had done this for her, allowed her to go to Africa, to make her happy. But for him, it was going to be a miserable six months or year without her. And as he walked into the palace, the dog walked sadly behind him. Without Christianna's lively presence, they both already looked like a sad, lonely pair.
Chapter 7
Christianna's flight from Zurich took off promptly for Frankfurt that morning. Her bodyguards were in business class, and she was in first. And although she had warned them not to, the palace had discreetly let the airline know that she was on the flight. It was exactly what she didn't want, and it annoyed her. All she could do was console herself with the knowledge that she would not be “special” for the next year. She didn't want to be. This time away in Africa, working for the Red Cross, was her last opportunity to be an ordinary person, with none of the burdens that automatically came with her station in life. For the next months, she wanted none of the privileges of being royal. None at all. She wanted her experience there to be exactly the same as it was for everyone else, for better or worse.
When she changed flights in Frankfurt, she was grateful that no one appeared to know who she was. There was no one to meet or greet her, no one to help her transfer planes, no special attention. She picked up her backpack and handbag, while the two bodyguards managed their luggage and hers. They chatted amiably for a few minutes between flights, and tried to imagine what it was going to be like. Sam thought it was going to be rugged. He had been to Africa before. The director in Geneva had assured her it would be comfortable, and Christianna had insisted, and meant it, that she didn't care. She was more than willing to rough it with everyone else, if that was the case. He had promised her anonymity, and she was counting on that. Otherwise, it would spoil everything for her. In her mind, this was her last chance at real life, before she dedicated herself to the heavy weight and restrictions of her royal duties forevermore.
Samuel had been collecting data from the U.S. State Department for weeks about the political situation in Eritrea, in East Africa, where they were going. It bordered on Ethiopia, which had caused Eritrea serious problems over the years. The two countries had finally signed a truce several years before, and all was peaceful now. The border skirmishes that had occurred with Ethiopia previously had stopped. Samuel had promised to alert the prince if anything changed, or anything worrisome happened anywhere around them, and if necessary, he would get the princess out of the country in that case. But there seemed to be no concern for now, just as the Red Cross director had promised as well. Eritrea would be interesting and safe. All Christianna needed to do was concentrate on the work at hand. She was leaving the security issues up to them, to be handled as discreetly as possible. They were claiming to be three friends from Liechtenstein, who had signed up for the year together. It was a plausible story they intended to stick to, and there was no reason why anyone at the camp should suspect otherwise. And Christianna knew how discreet the two men were.
After the ten-hour plane trip from Frankfurt, to Asmara, via Cairo, they barely glanced at her passport in Asmara. They didn't even notice the absence of a surname, much to Christianna's relief. She didn't want the press notified anywhere on her route, as word of her presence in the country might follow her to her final destination, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs.
By now, they had been on the road for fourteen
hours, and Christianna was tired. The two men had slept on the long flight. As they walked out of the airport, they looked around. Max had gotten an e-mail before they left, confirming that they'd be picked up. No one had been sure at the time who would come to meet them, or which of the camp's vehicles they'd bring. They'd been assured someone would be there, but no one seemed to be waiting for them.
They walked into a small grass thatched hut, and bought three orange sodas. The drinks were made by an African company, and tasted sickly sweet, but they drank them anyway, as it was hot and they were thirsty, although it was winter in East Africa, but the weather was warm. The scenery around them was beautiful, the air was dry and the terrain flat. There was a soft hazy light that seemed to wash over everything and reminded Christianna of the warm luminosity of her mother's pearls. There was a gentleness to their surroundings, as they waited for someone to come. Eventually, they sat on their bags outside the hut, and half an hour later an ancient battered yellow school bus rolled up. It had a Red Cross flag taped to each side, and other than that looked entirely disreputable, and as though it couldn't possibly have gone a mile. In spite of that, it had driven all the way from Senafe, and the trip had taken five hours.
The door opened and a tall, disheveled-looking, dark-haired man stepped out. He looked at the three of them sitting on their bags, smiled, and rushed over to help them, with apologies for his tardiness. Looking at the ancient yellow bus, one could easily see why he'd been late.
“I'm so sorry, I'm Geoffrey McDonald. I had a flat tire on the way, it took forever to change. Not too tired, Your Highness?” he asked optimistically. He had recognized her from a copy of Majesty magazine someone had lying around, although she looked younger than he'd expected, and still fresh and beautiful after the long trip.
“Please don't call me that,” Christianna said instantly. “I hope the director in Geneva warned you. Just Christianna will be fine.”
“Of course,” he said apologetically, taking her backpack from her, as he and the bodyguards shook hands. In theory, he wasn't supposed to extend a hand to her, unless she did so first, and as he was British he was apparently aware of the etiquette involved, but she was quick to extend her hand. He shook it cautiously with a shy smile. He looked like an absentminded professor, and she liked him instantly, as did the two guards.
“I hope no one is aware of all that here,” she said, looking worried.
“No, not at all,” he assured her. “In fact, I'd been warned. I just forgot. It's rather exciting to have a princess coming to stay with us, even if no one knows. My mother would be very impressed,” he confessed, “though I won't tell her till after you leave.” There was an awkward boyishness about him that would have been hard not to love. Christianna felt instantly at ease with him. He was friendly and warm.
“I don't want the others to know,” Christianna explained again as they walked toward the bus, with both bodyguards just behind her, carrying their bags.
“I understand. We're very excited to have you here. We need all the help we can get. Two of our people got typhoid and had to go home. We've been short-handed for eight months.” He had a slightly distracted, rumpled quality to him, and looked as though he was in his early forties. He said he had been born in England, but had lived in Africa all his life, and had grown up in South Africa, in Capetown, but he'd run the camp in Senafe for the past four years. He said the facility had grown by leaps and bounds since he'd started. “They've gotten used to us by now. The locals were a little leery of us at first, although they're very friendly people here. In addition to the AIDS facility, we basically run a medical aid station for them. A doctor flies in twice a month to give me a hand.” He added that the AIDS facility they ran had been a considerable success. Their goal was to prevent the spread of the disease, as much as to treat those who already had it now. “The center has been overflowing. You'll see when we arrive. And of course we treat all the local diseases and ailments as well.” He got off the bus again before they left, and bought a soda himself. He looked dusty, and tired, and slightly haggard, as though he worked too hard, and Christianna was touched that the director had come himself.
It was exciting just being there, trying to absorb the unfamiliar sights and sounds, although they were all feeling somewhat dazed by the long trip. Samuel and Max were quiet, studying their surroundings, ever on the alert, and constantly aware that their mission was to protect her. So far so good.
When Geoff got back, he started the bus, as it made a series of horrible coughs and groans, backfired, and then shook alarmingly as it came to life. He turned to Samuel and Max with a broad grin. “I hope one of you is a mechanic. We need one desperately at the camp. We have medical personnel, but no one knows how to fix our cars. They're overeducated, the lot of them. We need plumbers, electricians, and mechanics.” The bus took off rattling down the road, stopped and then started again, as though to illustrate his point.
“We'll do our best.” Max smiled. He was much more capable with weapons, but he didn't say that. He was willing to give it a try. The bus nearly stopped again while going up a hill at a snail's pace, as Geoff chatted with all three of them. He looked as though Christianna made him slightly nervous, as he cast shy glances at her and smiled. It was impossible for him to forget who she was.
She asked him questions about the AIDS facility, the crisis of AIDS in Africa, and the rest of the medical care they provided. He explained that he was a doctor himself. His specialty was tropical medicine, which was what had led him here. As they talked, she watched the scenery drift by. There were people walking on either side of the road in brightly colored clothes, with swaths of white cloth. A herd of goats walked right across their path. The bus stopped for it, and then wouldn't start again, as a man in a turban leading a camel tried to help a young boy herd the goats. Geoff flooded the engine trying to bring it back to life, and then had to let it sit for a while as the goats finally left the road. It gave them a further chance to talk.
He was extremely informative in his data and assessments. He said they were not only treating young women, but children as well in the AIDS facility, many of whom had been raped, and then shunned by their tribes once they were no longer virgins, worse yet if they got pregnant. Their families could no longer marry them off, so they were useless in trade for livestock, land, or currency. And once they got sick, they were almost always abandoned. The number of AIDSaffected men and women was shocking, and the fact that it continued to rise was even more alarming. He said their patients were also suffering from tuberculosis, malaria, kala azar (a form of black fever), and sleeping sickness.
“We're emptying the ocean with a thimble,” he said, outlining the situation for them in words that left no doubt as to how desperate the situation of their patients was, many of them refugees from border disputes with Ethiopia in the years before the truce. He also said the truce was somewhat uneasy as Ethiopia continued to lust after Massawa, Eritrea's port on the Red Sea. “All we can do is care for them, make them comfortable, and help some of them until they die. And try to educate others about the prevention of disease.” It was a daunting prospect, as Christianna listened to him, and Samuel and Max also asked him a number of questions. Theirs wasn't a dangerous mission, but it was a depressing one. Their mortality rate was high, a hundred percent among those with AIDS. Most of the women and children who came to them were too far advanced in the disease for it to be arrested, controlled, or forced into some form of remission. One of their main goals, he said, was to prevent new mothers from passing on AIDS to their newborns, by giving both mother and infant medication and convincing them not to breast-feed. Culturally and practically difficult since many of them were so poor, they sold the formula given to them and continued to breast-feed because it was cheaper, and then the babies got AIDS too. It was a constant uphill battle, according to him, to educate and treat them, when they could. “We do what we can for them, but we can't always do a lot, depending on the situation. Sometimes we have to
accept that too.” He also mentioned that Doctors Without Borders came through the area frequently and gave them a hand. They were grateful for help from other organizations as well, not just the Red Cross, although a hundred percent of their funding came from them. The local government was too poor to be of any help. He said they were planning to ask some foundations to contribute, but they hadn't had time to write the grant requests yet. Christianna thought she'd like to help eventually, thinking of their own foundation, which contributed generously to situations similar to this. She would learn more about their needs in the coming weeks and months, and talk to the foundation about it when she went back.
It took them five hours to reach the camp. They talked almost all the way. Geoff was a pleasant, obviously kind and compassionate, interesting man, with a vast knowledge about the continent where he lived, and the agonies that plagued it, most of which could not be fixed, for now, and probably wouldn't be for a long time. But he and those he worked with were doing all they could to change that.
Christianna finally fell asleep for the last few minutes of the bus trip, despite the constant rattling, shaking, noise, and appalling fumes that the bus emitted. She was so tired she could have slept through a bomb at that point. She woke up with a start when Max touched her arm. They were in the camp, and the bus was surrounded by Red Cross workers, watching with curiosity to see the three new workers who were about to arrive. They had all been talking about them for weeks. All they knew was that they were two men and a woman, and that they came from somewhere in Europe. There was some vague rumor that they were all Swiss, someone else said they were German, then they thought the men were German, the woman Swiss. No one had mentioned Liechtenstein to them. They were perhaps confused since their stay and arrival had been set up by the Geneva office. But whoever they were, they were more than welcome, and desperately needed at the camp. Even if not doctors or nurses, at least they were willing hearts and hands.
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