Desmond couldn’t make out her muffled response, but the man did. And he didn’t like it. His tone turned hard.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt that,” she shot back.
“You’re thinking about adopting him.”
A pause.
“You are. Have you lost your mind?”
“What would be so bad about that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, where do I start? Are you going to put medical school on hold? How will you support him? Ask your parents for money? Will I have to support him? Were you even going to consult me?”
They argued after that, said terrible things to each other. Desmond could barely stand to listen, but he couldn’t back away. The words burned like the flames that had seared his legs.
Charlotte was different when she returned that afternoon. Sad. More reserved.
She read the books as if someone were forcing her to, not like before, when she had done the voices that made the stories come alive.
That made him sad all over again.
The next morning, she was at his bed when he woke up.
“We’ve sorted out your living situation.”
She swallowed, collected herself, then told Desmond two things he already knew: that his father was originally from England, and that his father’s parents, Desmond’s grandparents, had passed away a long time ago.
Then she told him something he didn’t know.
“Your father has a brother—Orville. They… weren’t on the best of terms. However, he’s agreed to take custody of you.”
Desmond nodded, unsure what to say.
“Will I…” He wanted to ask whether he would see her again.
She shook her head slightly. A tear formed in the corner of her eye.
“I’ll be taking you to Melbourne in two days, to the airport. You’ll fly to Oklahoma City. It’s in America.” She swallowed, forced a smile, and tried but failed to make her tone light. “Have you heard of it?”
Desmond shook his head.
He expected her to leave after that, but she stayed. She read to him again, and her passion had returned. She did the voices he liked, asked him what he thought was going to happen when the story was getting good, and read the chapter titles in a special voice.
She returned the next morning, and didn’t leave until she turned the light out.
He never saw the black-haired man again, which didn’t bother Desmond one bit. Good riddance.
Charlotte drove him to the airport, kissed him on his forehead, and handed him a bag that was filled with clothes. They were new, and he got the impression that Charlotte had picked them out.
“Something to send you on your way, Des.”
He wanted to say something, but she was already starting to cry.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Oh, now. It was no trouble.” She was struggling to maintain her composure. She wiped away three tears racing down her cheek and set a hand on his shoulder. “Better run along, Des. Don’t want to miss your flight.”
A woman from the airline who had been briefed on his situation took his hand and began escorting him through security. When Desmond looked back, Charlotte was still standing there, sobbing, waving to him.
The man who greeted Desmond in Oklahoma City was a sharp contrast to Charlotte. That made Desmond miss her even more.
Chapter 31
Millen Thomas opened his eyes and squinted. Even muted through the tent’s canvas, the morning sun was still blinding. Hannah lay on the cot right beside him, sleeping peacefully. Her breathing was barely audible. Her body was warm to the touch, and for a moment, he wondered how she could sleep in the heat. Then he remembered how exhausted they had been the night before.
He gently drew his arm from around her stomach, pausing twice, scared he had woken her. But she didn’t move or wake. He rose from the cot and pulled the thin sheet over her. His body smelled of the heinous ointment she had applied so liberally the night before. It had rubbed off on him, and so had the stench. Worth it, he thought. Totally worth it.
Fifteen minutes later, he had eaten and prepared for the day. He stood at the old Toyota SUV with Kito, the local guide the Kenyan government had supplied. A map of the region was spread out on the hood.
Kito pointed. “I would start with the caves in this region, Dr. Thomas.”
“Call me Millen. Why there?”
“Less likely to be lions.”
That was a good enough reason for Millen. He still remembered the movie The Ghost and the Darkness, a fictionalized account of the true story of two lions who killed dozens of people in Tsavo, Kenya, at the turn of the century.
“I like the less lions plan,” Millen said.
He walked over to Dr. Shaw’s tent, stuck his head in, and to his surprise, found her sleeping on her cot. Dr. Becker sat on the other cot staring at his open laptop. The German man raised a finger to his lips, silently urging Millen to remain quiet, then rose and led him away from the tent.
“What’s up?”
“I’m heading out.” Millen glanced back at the tent. “Is she all right?”
“She’s just tired. Long night. You know where you’re going?”
“Yeah. We’ve plotted the caves, should be back well before nightfall.”
“Good. Make sure of it. Take your time inside; a fall could be deadly. If you have to go deep, the radios may not work. Once you have the samples, get out. There’ll be time for sightseeing when this is all over.”
“Will do.”
“Good luck, Millen.”