Dear Jan,
When I came to Lusaka, I thought I would find a way to forget you. But I think there is no way. Not now. You are in South Africa, as you wanted to be. You have a long life to live. You are a gifted doctor. I was foolish to think that I could be with you after nursing school. But you will always be with me. I sometimes dream that I will wake up and find you beside me again. I am still a foolish girl. But I know what it is to love. You may forget me, but I will not forget you.
“You were right,” Joseph said. “They had a relationship.”
Zoe nodded and turned the page. She read the next letter, and the one after that, and then ten more letters scattered through the volume. Some shed light on the web of deceit and chaos that had defined Charity’s first year in Lusaka—Frederick’s temper, his sexual demands, and her confusion about it all. A few were touching explorations of motherhood. The rest, however, were letters to Jan inked in the pain of unrequited love.
After a while, Zoe found that she could stomach no more. She stared into the pool, knowing what she had to do. When she told Joseph, he regarded her thoughtfully.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I’ll be back by Wednesday, one way or another.”
Joseph nodded, his eyes catching the flame of the sun. “I’ll take you to the airport.”
chapter 25
Cape Town, South Africa
April, 2012
Zoe landed in Cape Town just before eleven in the evening. She rented a Kia crossover and drove into the night, heading west in the direction of Table Bay. She had packed her suitcase expecting autumn rain, but the Cape air was dry and cloudless, cleansed by a stiff wind blowing in from the sea. The Southeaster, Zoe thought, sighting the Southern Cross above the lights of the city. If it holds, I’m in for a spectacular visit.
And she was. The next morning, she awoke to sunlight streaming into her room at the Table Bay Hotel. She went to the window and looked across the harbor at the flat-topped massif of Table Mountain rising from the expanse of the city bowl. She remembered the first time her mother brought her here—to the cape Sir Francis Drake had called the fairest in the whole circumference of the earth. “Drink it in, Zoe,” Catherine had said. “You will never feel more alive than in Cape Town.”
After a quick breakfast, Zoe drove east through the clutch of metropolitan traffic and took the N2 across the coastal plain. Exiting onto the R102, she headed north across the fertile greenbelt of the veld to Stellenbosch. Bounded by the towering Hottentots Holland Mountains to the east and the rocky peak of the Simonsberg to the north, the winelands of the Western Cape had splendor to spare. Her destination was the Kruger Estate, a boutique winery on the slopes of the Simonsberg dating back to the late nineteenth-century.
Zoe parked in the dirt lot at the entrance to the estate and walked down the forested path, following hand-carved signs to the wine shop. She entered the shop through a heavy wooden door. The tasting room had the cozy feel of a cellar, with flagstone floors, hardwood furniture, stone pillars and directional lighting. Since it was still fairly early, the shop was empty except for an old man behind the counter and a young couple flirting in a corner booth.
Zoe took a seat at one of the tables and examined the menu. The old man greeted her hospitably, his English inflected with a trace of Bavaria. Zoe noticed the resemblance immediately. This is going to be easier than I imagined, she thought.
“I’ll try the reds,” she said.
The old man retrieved a bottle of Merlot from the counter and poured a sample into her glass, describing the bouquet of flavors and their mineral origins like a master sommelier. After the Merlot, he brought her a Pinotage, then a Shiraz and a Cabernet Sauvignon, and finally a blend called the “Grand Reserve.” Zoe chatted with the wine-maker about his vintages and paid the bill. Only then did she broach the reason for her visit.
“You are Hendrik Kruger,” she said. “I know your son.”
The old man’s face brightened. “Ah, why did you not mention it before? I would have given you the tasting for free.”
She smiled. “No need. I’d be grateful for a favor, though.”
“For a friend of Jan, anything,” replied Hendrik.
“I need to find him. I spoke to the people at the University of Cape Town. They said you might know where he is.”
Hendrik’s expression turned opaque. “What is the concern?”
Zoe gave him a shaded version of the truth. “A friend of ours—a woman Jan was close to—died recently. She left something for him.”
The old man took a moment to make his decision. “There is a place near Hermanus,” he said. “It is called Vrede. People go there when they are seeking consolation. I’m not certain, but I think you may find him there.”
“Consolation?” she inquired.
“Peace,” Hendrik clarified. “You’ll see.”