“Was it AIDS?”
Joseph navigated the truck onto the street. “Agatha—that’s the woman’s name—said it was TB, pneumonia, and cerebral malaria, but the pattern suggests HIV for everyone but the grandmother. Charity’s father drove a truck between Tanzania and Johannesburg. He was the first to go. She had two younger brothers who died before the age of five. When her mother died, she went to stay with her grandmother. Two cousins came to stay with them later.”
“I’ve read about families being wiped out by AIDS, but I’ve never met one.”
“Charity lived here in nursing school,” he went on. “Agatha didn’t like it.”
Zoe remembered the way the woman had tensed. “Why not?”
“She thinks Charity’s family is bewitched.”
“Because of all the death?”
“She said Field didn’t drink much before Charity came. She’s convinced the girl brought a curse upon her home. She tried to get her to leave, but Field didn’t want her to.”
I wonder why, Zoe thought. “Does she know why Charity dropped out of school?”
“Her grandmother had a stroke. Charity had to get a job to provide for her cousins.”
“Did Agatha say anything about how Charity became Bella?”
“That’s the hole in the story. When she moved to Lusaka, she never made contact with them again. Agatha didn’t know about Kuyeya. She didn’t know about Charity’s death.”
“Where are her cousins? They’re the last link to her past.”
Joseph glanced at her. “The older one, Cynthia, lives with her husband. Her brother, Godfrey, stays in the Copperbelt. The other is in Mukuni Village.”
“Where Charity’s grandmother lived,” Zoe replied, recalling a passage from her journal.
He nodded. “I thought we would go there tomorrow.”
Zoe closed her eyes, undone by Charity’s story. It was trauma enough to lose my mother. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose my entire family. She touched Catherine’s ring and the memories flooded back. New Canaan, Connecticut—August 6, 1996. The ringing phone had woken her just after three in the morning. Clouded by sleep, her mind had attributed the sound to the burglar alarm. She had listened for her father’s footsteps, but she had heard his voice instead. His words were a murmur in the still August night: “Hello? Yes, this is Jack Fleming.” Then came the crash. She ran down the hall and found him on his knees, the phone broken beside him.
It was the only time in her life she had seen him cry.
chapter 12
Livingstone, Zambia
September, 2011
The next morning after breakfast, Zoe and Joseph drove south toward Victoria Falls. Traffic on the main road was sparse, and Joseph pushed the truck well beyond the speed limit. On the outskirts of town, they came across a herd of elephants crossing the tarmac. The bull elephant, a regal beast with yellowed tusks, stood sentinel as cows and calves passed over, leaving behind a forest littered with broken trees.
Just before the entrance to the falls, they turned left onto a dirt road that led into rural pastureland dotted with homesteads. Apart from a majestic baobab tree just off the road, the rolling landscape was mostly bare of vegetation. The village appeared suddenly, its collection of rondavels and modern buildings sprinkled across a hillside taller than the rest. The roads were active with foot traffic, but few vehicles were about.
They drove into the village center and parked next to a sprawling acacia tree. Zoe was about to ask how Joseph intended to find Godfrey when a handsome Zambian woman wearing chitenge made her way toward them, her dress billowing in the wind. Joseph rolled down the window and greeted her.
“I am Margaret,” she said in fluent English, “the village guide. Are you here for a tour?”
When Joseph explained that they were looking for Godfrey, she looked disappointed. “He works at the falls. He usually leaves just after sunrise.”
“What does he do there?” Zoe asked.
Margaret scrutinized her. “He sells tickets. Why are you looking for him?”
Thinking quickly, Zoe replied, “We have news from his cousin, Charity.”
“You know her?” Margaret looked surprised.
Zoe nodded. “In a manner of speaking.”
Margaret brightened. “I knew their grandmother, Vivian, well. She was a good and wise woman. While you’re here, would you like to see where Godfrey stays?”
Zoe traded a glanced with Joseph. “Why not?”
They climbed out of the truck, and Joseph handed Margaret twenty thousand kwacha. “For everything you know about Godfrey’s family.”
The woman smiled broadly, flashing her large white teeth. “This way,” she replied.
They walked some distance into the village. Eventually, Margaret stopped outside a collection of huts and pointed. “Vivian used to stay there. Godfrey stays in the one next to it. He is the last of his family in the village.”
“When did Charity leave?” Zoe asked.