She wandered back to her desk and frittered away the next hour on menial tasks. When her iPhone vibrated, she walked out to the driveway again.
“Your hunch was right,” Whitaker told her. “I called a friend at the southern African Power Pool. He told me there was a meeting of dignitaries in Victoria Falls in April of 1996. My friend wasn’t there, but he seemed pretty certain that Frederick Nyambo was.”
“Would he have stopped in Livingstone?”
“I don’t know. Any interest in telling me what this is about? You’ve gotten me curious.”
“Not really. But thanks for the favor.”
“Maybe now you’ll be nice to me,” he quipped.
She ended the call and took a long, slow breath, listening to the jacaranda leaves fluttering in the wind. Sometimes I feel like I know you, Charity Mizinga. Like we’re sisters, like Kuyeya is family. But I still don’t understand. How did you meet him? Why did you drop out of school? What was it that Frederick promised you? And what happened when you got to Lusaka? What drove you onto the street and into the beds of strangers?
She saw dark clouds building on the horizon. The storms would come early today. She entered the office again and found Joseph filling a water glass at the kitchen sink.
“I’m making you a special dinner tonight,” she said. “Tom and Carol are away.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” he asked.
She nodded. “The best way to forget pain is to drown it with celebration.”
“What are we celebrating?”
“Christmas. It came early this year.”
Late that afternoon, a powerful thunderstorm swept through Lusaka, pelting the city with hailstones and flooding the streets with brackish water. Zoe shut down her workstation and went to the window to watch the storm. Lightning speared the sky and thunder shook the ground. The wind whipped violently through the trees and rain drummed on the roof, drowning out all conversation. Soon Zoe’s colleagues abandoned their duties to watch the spectacle.
In time the storm began to relent and the great clouds trundled off over the plain to the south. Lightning continued to flash, but the roll of thunder was muted by distance. When the staff dispersed to wrap up business for the day, Zoe collected her backpack and looked at Joseph.
“Do I need to change?” he asked.
“Not unless you want to,” she said. “You’re welcome to come over now.”
He smiled. “In that case …”
They drove to the Prentice bungalow in separate vehicles. Zoe watched her mirrors but saw no sign of Dunstan Sisilu. They entered the gate and parked together on the drive. The grounds of the bungalow were sodden after the storm and carpeted with flower blossoms.
Zoe inhaled the moist air and grinned when the sun broke free of the clouds. “It seems the gods have given us a royal greeting.”
Joseph looked up, shielding his eyes. “‘Earth perfumed in dewdrop fragrance wakes.’”
“Achebe,” Zoe said, taking his hand and drawing him toward the door. “I’m impressed.”
“Occasionally, we Africans read our own poets.”
When they entered the foyer, he asked, “So what’s for dinner?”
“I have some steaks from the commissary,” she said, heading toward the kitchen. “I also have some of the best wine in Zambia. Hungry?”
He smiled. “Ravenous. I’ll turn on the grill.”
When the steaks were done, she served them on two of Carol’s fine china plates alongside mounds of mashed potatoes and green beans fresh from the garden. She handed the plates to Joseph and followed him to the patio, carrying a tray with bread and butter and two glasses of red wine. They took places across from one another, and Zoe lit candles.
For a while they ate in silence, savoring the food and the serenity of the gardens. The sky fluoresced around the setting sun and then began to darken. A gusty breeze left behind by the storm made the candle flames dance.
“I talked to Cynthia,” she said. “She wasn’t very helpful.”
Joseph’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me?”
“I’m telling you now. She’s hiding something. I’m certain it relates to Charity’s move to Lusaka. I don’t really blame her. I just wish she would rise above her fear.” She paused. “I also talked to Clay Whitaker at the World Bank. He told me that Frederick Nyambo was in Victoria Falls in April of 1996. The timing is intriguing, to say the least. That’s the same month Charity left nursing school, the same month a wealthy businessman from Lusaka offered her a job.”
Joseph frowned. “Are you suggesting Frederick might be the businessman?”
She smiled. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
He looked skeptical. “It’s a fascinating theory, but it’s a leap.”
“True, but remember what Amos told us. He said that whatever happened between Charity and the Nyambos happened not long after her arrival in Lusaka. Look, it’s perfectly possible that they met here and that all of this is just coincidence. But what if the dots are connected? You have to admit it fills in a lot of gaps.”
He regarded her in the flickering candlelight.