CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was the best night’s sleep I’d had since I arrived. I awoke early, grabbed my shower bucket and I ran across the cool morning air to the wood stalls and stared inside.
Clear.
I searched the grounds and spotted Ian’s back on the other side of the baobab tree. His head raised as if he felt my stare and turned around, scouring the landscape around him. His eyes caught mine and the morning sun glinted off his bright blue eyes, making them even more vibrant. I inclined my head toward him and he nodded subtly in return. Butterflies drowned my empty stomach in flutters.
I showered, not even recognizing how cold the water was that morning like I did every other morning. When I dressed in my room and began plaiting my hair, my hands felt clumsy and nervous. I was so flabbergasted at myself. I couldn’t believe I was acting the way I was. Me, the queen of control. The queen of attraction. La Fée Verte. The old name crept into my conscious and I dropped my hands, studying myself in the mirror. The prior giddy feeling I was so happy to enjoy a moment before felt terrible now. I realized I didn’t deserve Ian. Recollecting all the terrible things I did back home made the wonderful butterflies die and nausea take their place. I steeled my hands, fighting back the feeling I was being swallowed by a black hole and finished my hair.
Karina’s knocking at my door reminded me I was there to do a job.
“Sophie, my love, are you dressed?”
“Yes,” I said, opening the door for her. Her face was white as a sheet. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my stomach dropping to the floor.
“Mercy has measles.”
“Measles? How? I don’t understand.”
“A nurse confirmed it late last night. She will live, I’m certain, but the young ones, none of them are vaccinated and two of the children have fevers,” Karina explained, wringing her hands.
“Why couldn’t you vaccinate?”
“We lack the resources.”
“Okay, well, what does this mean? What do we do?”
“We call Pembrook.”
This surprised me.
“What can he do?”
“There are a few options, but we have little time. He’d have to work with short notice.”
I grabbed my satellite phone and checked the battery. It was nearly nonexistent. I dialed anyway and sat at the edge of my bed while Karina paced back and forth on my creaky floor.
“Hello,” a shaky Pembrook’s voice sounded.
I took a deep breath. It was so good to hear a familiar voice. “Pembrook!” I screamed into the bad connection.
“Sophie? Is that you?” The connection broke. “...are you?”
“I missed that last bit, Pemmy. I’m fine, if you asked. Listen, I need a favor. I’m running on low battery here and I need you to arrange for a shipment.”
“What...for?”
“Measles has broken out here at Masego and none of the children are vaccinated. Karina says there are several options available to us. Can you get in touch with Ford and arrange something?”
Several seconds of silence followed and I feared we lost him. “...I’ll contact you tonight. Charge....if you can.”
“Thank you, Pemmy!” I yelled before the connection broke.
Karina sat next to me. We were silent for a few minutes letting everything sink in.
“What if he can’t get anything?” I asked her.
Karina wrung her hands continuously. “We quarantine. We treat fevers. We hydrate.”
I sighed loudly. “Jesus, Karina. When does it stop?” I turned toward her.
“It doesn’t stop, love,” she said, stopping and resting a hand on my shoulder, a wan smile gracing her beautiful face. “We do the best we can when we can and have faith it will all work out.” I nodded. “Let’s get something to eat and discuss what we need to do with Charles and Din.”
We sat at the tables, my satellite phone resting in the center of our group.
“It’s dying,” I admitted, pointing to the phone.
“We really need a generator,” Ian said quietly.
“We can’t afford it, Din,” Charles added.
“No one will have electricity nearby,” Karina put in.
“And the closest city?” I asked.
“The closest city with guaranteed electricity?” Ian said.
“Yes.”
“Jinja?” he asked Charles.
“Probably.”
“How far is that?” I asked.
“Two and a half hours. Approximately.”
“Pemmy could have called by then,” I told them.
“True, but it’s our only other option,” Charles said.
Mandisa came to my side and I slid her onto my lap without thinking, resting my cheek on her head. “What if I turned it off, waited a few hours then rang Pemmy myself later. That way we could guarantee ourselves the information?”
“I don’t think there’s enough juice to boot it back up,” Ian observed, “but nice.”
“Nice what?”
“Thought. It was brilliant.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I was being sincere,” he said, offended
“Oh,” I said sheepishly.
I turned toward the table once more and spotted Karina eyeing me with interest. I shrugged my shoulders in question, but she just grinned and shook her head.
“Then we go to Jinja,” I conceded, slumping a little in my chair.
“I’ll take over your classes,” Karina said.
One of Mandisa’s friends passed by and Mandisa scurried from my lap toward them.
“Silly girl,” I muttered.
“She’s fond of you,” Ian said, when the others got up to get plates for themselves.
“I hope so.”
“She loves you.”
I whipped my eyes toward him. “You think so?” I asked softly.
“I know so.”
This bolstered me like nothing ever could. If a child chose to love me even though I was so undeserving, did that mean I could earn Ian’s love? Could I become worthy? I studied his beautiful pale face, framed with messy black hair and piercing blue eyes. God, he was so fascinating to look upon.
“What?” he asked, running his hands through his hair. “Do I have something on my face?” He smoothed his hands down his expression.
“No, nothing,” I answered, standing up to grab a plate.
Ian got up and stood close behind me a few seconds later and I could feel the smile on my face grow to impossible lengths.
“Will Pembrook come through?” he asked the back of my head.
Now, I knew boys. Well. He knew Pemmy would try his best. He just wanted to talk to me and that brought the butterflies back.
“He will try his damnedest.” I cleared my throat. “Have-have you been vaccinated?” I asked reticently, afraid of his answer.
“I was the last time I visited home.”
“That’s good,” I said, relieved, lining the linoleum with the toe of my boot.
“Jinja’s a dangerous drive,” he stated.
“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” I added sarcastically. “What is it about this bloody place? It’s the land of every extreme possible.”
Ian grabbed my arm unexpectedly, the heat from his hand warming me to an impossible temperature, and turned me toward him. “You’re right but with extreme suffering, there is extreme happiness. With extreme earth there is extreme beauty.”
I thought on what he’d said and remembered the view from my plane when I arrived. “You’re right. Lake Victoria was one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s incredible.”
“The children here are extremely loveable,” I declared.
“Good one,” he said, smiling. “That they are.”
Four giggling girls walked by us arm in arm singing a traditional song, making my heart swell.
After breakfast, we grabbed the satellite phone and hopped in Ian’s truck. I took note of the rifle strapped behind the seats and my blood began to pump, adrenaline flooding my body.
“It’ll be all right,” Ian assured me.
“How do you know?” I asked when he revved the engine.
“I don’t,” he said, “but I’ll protect you.”
My heart began to slow and my breathing steadied...because I believed him.
The truck was too loud to hold any kind of conversation and that disappointed me. I was dying to talk about whatever that thing was that happened between us at the watering hole. I was determined to get to the bottom of it as the sat phone charged.
The two-and-a-half-hour drive was ridiculous to me considering all we really wanted it for was electricity. Jinja was surprisingly well developed since all I’d ever seen from Kampala to Masego was undeveloped land excluding a random petrol station here and there. Ian told me it was the second largest city in Uganda. I had to keep myself from laughing while looking on it knowing those statistics. The main roads were paved, which was a rare sight, but they were poorly maintained and buckled in many spots. The establishments were plentiful but mostly one story. The roads were filled to the brim with bicyclists. Our truck seemed to be the only one among a handful in the entire city.
“The source of the Nile is here,” Ian explained after parking in front of a promising-looking restaurant.
“Get out!” I exclaimed, genuinely surprised.
He opened the door for me and I stepped inside. We were the only ones. An Indian woman called us over.
“Excuse me,” Ian said, “I wonder if you wouldn’t mind if we trespassed on your kindness for a little while. My friend’s phone is almost out of battery and we need to charge it. What would it cost us to use your electricity for, say, eight hours?”
She held up her hands to stay us and went behind a door, emerging with a pen and piece of scrap paper. She wrote down a number and I bent over to examine what she’d written. It read “2 American dollar.” I nodded at the figure and handed her two dollars from the small stash I’d brought. We set the phone up to charge and sat at a nearby table.
Suddenly things became uncomfortable between us. We both knew it was the only privacy we’d be afforded for some time and neither of us was bold enough to speak our minds. This is so unlike me. I stared out the dirty window before me, watching the men in dress pants and button-ups cycle along the streets. The woman interrupted the awkward quiet by setting a pot of tea and two cups at our table.
Ian thanked her and poured the tea over a sifter to catch the leaves, handing me a cup. Our hands touched and a spark of literal electricity shocked our hands apart.
“Static,” I whispered. We stared at one another, our hands inches apart on the table. I brought my gaze down and inspected them. “Talk,” I ordered finally, taking in his eyes again.
“The lesson.” A breath whistled through his nose.
“I thought you hated me.”
He shook his head, his hair falling a little into his eyes. “I don’t hate you, Soph. I never did.”
“Then why treat me like a pariah?”
He sat back but kept his hands flat on the table, his eyes searched me deeply.
“You’re leaving.” I nodded in acknowledgement. “In a few short months, you’ll be gone, back to your life in America. I didn’t want to be your friend.”
I sighed loudly. “So that whole bit about knowing who I was, what kind of person I was. Was that bull?”
His eyes cast down. “No, I, uh, it wasn’t.” His eyes met mine again. “I’m just-I was quick to judge. I was wrong when I thought you couldn’t change. So few can do it.”
I brought my hands down and wedged them between my crossed legs.
“You think I’ve changed?”
“Sophie,” he offered as if in explanation, his brows pulled tightly across his forehead.
Tears sprang silently and cascaded down my face.
“Soph,” he said quietly, reaching for me, but I refused to budge. “You’ve been transformed for a while.”
I choked back a sob. It meant so much to me to hear those words.
“Then why?”
“I told you. You’re leaving. I feel like an idiot admitting to this but I confess, I don’t do well when people leave. I promise myself I won’t get attached. It’s a defense mechanism in my line of work,” he admitted with a slight smile.
“And now?”
“I-I would be honored to call you friend,” he said succinctly, with an odd finality, as if he meant this as more a fact than an opinion.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted to be his friend. I’d never been respected by a man before, not truly.
Click.
And this was my new epiphany. Men wanted me. They all did, however briefly, but none of them wanted to keep me. That’s what I needed. I needed to be owned, loved. But not by a man. I knew then that I never needed to be kept by a man. What I needed was to love myself, to want to keep myself around. And in that revelation, I knew that if I wanted to keep myself, that a man wanting to keep me would just be a by-product. Who wouldn’t want to keep someone who respected himself or herself?
“And I would be honored for you to call me friend,” I finally told him once I’d collected myself.
His expression softened and he grinned at me.
“Your heart is startlingly beautiful, Sophie,” he stated after a brief moment of fixed gazes.
My breath sucked into my chest at an alarming rate. There was no mention of my face, my legs, my ass, my breasts, my hair, my clothing, the way I carried myself, what I wore or how I wore it. There was no mention of me other than the part no one could even see. I’d been called beautiful so many times. It gratified me, validated me, but it was all empty, a facade. This was the first time someone had called me beautiful and it actually meant something to me. The praise slammed into my skin and permeated my body, leaving me flushed and overwhelmed.
My hands clenched on the table. I wanted so badly to rush him in that moment, to run my hands through his straight, silky, black hair and memorize his mouth with mine but something stopped me. I ignored the instinct, told myself that Ian was different. I decided I’d let him take the reins because I had never let anyone do that before. I was going to let him set the pace, let him discover me on his own. Giving him control gave me more power than I imagined I could own. Letting him worry about the next move was incredibly liberating and I knew with absolute certainty that the ride was going to be the best of my entire life.
Sophie Price had just learned self-control.
“Thank you,” I told him softly, “very much. That has to be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
“Surely not,” he said, puzzling over my quietude.
“It is.”
“Curious,” he said simply.
He leaned forward and rested his forearms farther up on the table, closer to my hands, gripping the edge. I removed one hand and picked up my cup, taking a small sip. The tea was surprisingly good. “Tell me what your life back home is like,” he asked.
I sighed loudly. Adrenaline shot through me. Be honest, I told myself. “I lied to the children,” I began.
His brows pinched. “What do you mean?”
“That day, when Oliver asked me about my parents, I said they were nice.” I gave him a small smile. “They most definitely are not.”
Ian studied me carefully. “How?”
I braced myself. I knew I was about to unload on this guy. This perfect, unselfish boy who would probably want nothing to do with me after what I was about to reveal to him, but it didn’t matter. It was my past. I couldn’t just brush it under the table. “My parents are the epitome of self-involved. They are beyond wealthy, uninhibited, unwise, shallow, every combination of terrible you can think of.
“Since I was an infant, I was raised by a nanny. I was indulged to impossible levels and to my own detriment, I can admit now. At fourteen, I fired the nanny and my parents decided I could raise myself, so I did.” I hesitated and Ian squeezed my hand. I was mesmerized for a moment as his fingers rubbed the tops of mine. Butterflies took over and my breathing became labored. I looked up at him and lost control of my thoughts.
“And?”
I was startled back to the present. “And I gave myself no boundaries. If I wanted to sleep with a boy, I did. If I wanted to try a drug, I did. If I wanted to drink to the point of excess,” I began and trailed off.
“Go on,” he said.
“My goal in life was to rule my tiny, elite world, so I did. I manipulated, used, disrespected and took advantage of every person I called friend. Don’t get me wrong, none of us were saints by any means, but I led them all. I influenced them all. I pulled and played with their puppet strings. I was the ultimate puppeteer. I was cruel and unrelenting. I was no better than my parents.”
I continued on with details of past indiscretions, ending with the day Jerrick died, the day I was caught with cocaine, my interaction with Officer Casey and even Spencer and his father. I confessed it all, spilled it at his feet and the sum of all my actions surprised even me. Humiliation filled my cheeks and I tucked my chin into my chest when I was done.
Ian sat back against his chair and his hands released mine, leaving them bereft of the boiling heat I was becoming so addicted to. The air left his chest in one whoosh and shame inundated me. My eyes burned. I steeled myself for rejection, for a reaction of disgust, pinching my eyes closed and turning my face toward the window of passersby, but it never came.
Eventually my gaze returned to him and he was staring at me, hard. “My parents are high-ranking political officials in Cape Town,” he began, astonishing me. “I was raised by boarding schools during the school year and nannies in the summers. My parents only had time for their professions, so my brother and I found solace in many vices.”
I was taken aback at this admission.
“What’s his name?” I asked, suddenly and outrageously curious to know everything about Ian’s life.
He half-smiled. “Simon.”
“Go on,” I said, borrowing his phrase.
“When I was seventeen, at a party, we were all drunk and I was caught in a compromising situation with another official’s daughter. Smartphones were involved. Needless to say, lots of pictures were also involved. And the media had a field day with it. The girl was labeled a whore, I was labeled Cape Town’s bad boy. My parents were not amused.
“I lived an utterly selfish existence up until that point, but when I saw Mel, the girl involved, when I saw her name in the headlines and the stigma it ended up attaching to her, I was thoroughly ashamed of myself. It had been my fault. I should have been looking after her.
“Poor Mel had to transfer to America to finish university. She’s still there, from what I’ve heard.”
I was shocked silent by his confession. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought Ian could have been defined as anything else but perfection, anything other than infallible. He was human after all.
“So how did you end up at Masego?” I asked him when he seemed to have trailed off into his own thoughts.
He took a deep breath. “My parents kicked me out. I was done with school. They’d done their part, or so they said they did. They cut me off after too many follies and I was shoved out. I had a friend named Kelly who worked with a gorilla rescue in the Congo. I joined her and one day we were called to Uganda, near Lake Victoria. Turned out, the police had confiscated three baby gorillas from poachers and they needed rescuing.
“I’d been with Kelly for six months and really enjoyed what I was doing. I felt like I was accomplishing some good, and I was, but while I was in Uganda, on our way to get the babies, the strangest thing happened.” I was riveted and found myself leaning toward him. “We stumbled upon a little girl, no more than seven years old, walking by herself on the side of the road around two in the morning. We stopped to inquire if she needed help but she waved us off.”
“Kelly was ready to keep going, but I insisted we help the little girl. I got out of the truck and approached her. She was obviously dehydrated and starving. I could see her ribs through her skin and my stomach wretched for her. I picked her up and put her in the cab with us. I asked her questions, but she was despondent, too distraught, too hungry, too unable to speak.
“We took her to Kampala with us, about an hour from where we’d found her, and where we were expected to retrieve the gorillas. While Kelly readied the truck to transport the animals, I took the little girl to get something to eat, to get her to drink and even paid some women at a nearby restaurant to bathe her while I fetched her something decent to wear. Her clothes were threadbare.
“When everything was done, the little girl looked brand new, happier. She finally spoke to me and told me her name was Esther. She told me her parents had died and her grandmother was only able to take care of one of one child, so the girl chose to have her grandmother look after her three-year-old brother.”
Tears I’d been collecting fell in unison at the proclamation and Ian took my hand. “It has a happy ending,” he said, smiling and I smiled back.
“We had stumbled upon her trying to walk to Kampala for help. I took the little girl and found out through the locals Charles’ and Karina’s names and number. I called them and they came to pick her up without hesitation. I never went back to the Congo with Kelly.”
“Amazing,” I whispered.
“They are,” he answered.
“No,” I balked. “I mean, yeah, they’re amazing, but I was talking about you, Ian.”
“Sophie, anyone would have done what I did.”
“No, they wouldn’t have, Ian.”
He playfully rolled his eyes and shrugged off my compliment.
“Why Ian?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Because,” I offered without further explanation.
“I like it,” he said, staring out the window.
“Why?”
“‘Dingane’ makes my heart ache to hear it.”
I sat up a bit at that. “Why let them call you that then?”
“It means something to me every time they say it. It reminds me of who I am and who I never want to become again.”
“What does it translate to?”
He sat up with me and peered hard into my eyes. “Exile,” he said succinctly.
I fell back then turned to realize that the sat phone was fully charged.
We’re not done, Ian Aberdeen, I told him silently.
And he knew it. I could feel it in the intoxicating charge in the air. He knew it.