An Inconvenient Elephant (11 page)

“No,” I replied to Marielle. “Not really. Just no time.”

 

After dessert, Diamond raised her glass for a toast. “You have been very kind to take me into your home,” she said in a quavering voice. “You have made me feel like I'm family, and I can't thank you enough for that. I always wished I had family. You know, the word
safari
is Swahili for ‘journey.'” She looked around. “So I wish your safari through life may always be a happy and successful one.” She held her glass out to me, and I lifted mine and clicked it against hers.

“And a good safari to you, too,” I said, then added, “
shamwari
.”

DIAMOND-ROSE AND I GOT HOME LATE FROM MY
parents' dinner party, and I opened the front door to the sound of the phone ringing. It was Richie.

“Listen,” he said. “I know it's late, but I just spoke to Tom. He's driving up to the farm tomorrow morning, so if you want to talk to him about Margo and Abbie, you should come by.”

I tried to sound calm. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said. “I thought you'd want to know.”

“Thanks for telling me,” I said. “You're right—I have to talk to him.” Tom! I would be seeing Tom again. All I had to do was drive to the farm.

“Are you going to be all right with it?” Richie asked.

“Yes, of course,” I lied.

“Great,” Richie replied. “So, you forgot to tell me about Zimbabwe.”

“I'm trying to rescue an elephant,” I said. “You have thirty-five thousand dollars lying around?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied. “I keep it in a big trunk.” He stopped in surprise and gave a sudden laugh. “Hey, get it? Get it? That was my first elephant joke!”

 

I was going to see Tom tomorrow, and I was determined to repair our relationship. I would be calm and professional and tell him that I understood why he couldn't help us when we were in Zimbabwe and how Diamond had worked things out to save Tusker. That I
did
know what I was doing. And I would ask him if he would be willing to help us raise money for the purchase. I would be strong and dignified. I rethought that. Can you beg for thirty-five thousand dollars and still be dignified?

“Tom is coming up to the sanctuary tomorrow,” I announced to Diamond.

“Great,” she said. “See? The universe marched him practically to our front door.”

But I felt more nervous than I let on. How would I feel when I saw him again? How would he react to me? I spent the remainder of the night in earnest preparation for our meeting by knocking off a whole bottle of Baileys Mint Chocolate Irish Cream with Diamond-Rose.

 

We were sitting in the kitchen. Diamond had kicked off her boots and propped her feet up on the table. I draped a dish-cloth over them as I sat at the table with her.

“It's not really drinking,” I explained as I opened the bottle. “It's more like an after-dinner mint, only liquid.”

“And you're not really drinking because you're not really in love with this guy, right?” Diamond hooted.

“Absolutely,” I replied indignantly. “He had a million faults.” I had to pause to think of some. “Right, okay, first of all, he snored. And I was always cold at night because he rolled himself up in all the bedcovers like a taco.”

“I was never crazy about Mexican food,” Diamond commiserated.

I took a long swallow of my drink. “And he wanted to buy my house so I would have a place to live.”

“Terrible,” Diamond agreed. “Takes away all your incentive.”

“And he ate with his fork in his left hand like they do in Europe, which was very disconcerting,” I remembered.

“I have to agree about the forks,” Diamond said, polishing off her glass with a huge gulp that left drops trickling down her chin. She wiped her face on her sleeve. “As far as I'm concerned, all you need is a knife.” She burped loudly and poured us another round. “But he does rescue elephants.”

“He does,” I agreed.

“And we need him to rescue another one,” Diamond said.

“We do,” I agreed. “But it's going to be very hard for me to ask him.”

Diamond's face was full of drunken compassion. She refilled our glasses for the last time and tossed the bottle into the sink with a great smash. “So you give him a big kiss and apologize for everything you did and everything you didn't do. Tell him you appreciate how he tried to get a plane in, and that you still care for him and you need him to help us buy Tusker so we can bring him to the States.”

“How can I tell him all that if we're not talking,” I asked thickly, feeling the Irish cream work itself nicely into my gut. “Actually, we are talking but in very loud voices.” I hiccupped.

“True love will find a way.” Diamond licked out her glass.

“It's not true love at all,” I protested. “And someday I intend to tell him that I'm doing quite well, thank you.” I held my head carefully to keep the room from tipping over. “I am very happy without him.”

“Oh, bollocks,” Diamond replied. “If you're happy, then I'm Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.”

 

After I went to bed, I sorted through all the possibilities that could come up the next morning, which actually amounted to only three. Tom could say no and leave, he could help and leave, or he could help and we could live happily ever after.

Right.

If there was one thing I knew, it was my fairy tale endings. I knew the whole stars-in-the-eyes, bells-are-ringing, birds-are-singing, fireworks-are-zinging thing. I knew how you were supposed to find the man of your dreams, cling to him with heaving bosom, declare your love in passionate whispers, and live happily ever after while romantic music swells to a rapturous crescendo in the background.

I also knew it was all myth and wishful thinking.

It was all bullshit.

 

I had once loved Thomas Princeton Pennington, even though after my divorce I never thought I could love anyone again.
He was smart and funny and rode horses and rescued ellies. I loved him, he loved me, and I thought that was all we needed. But he had been adamant about me not going back to Kenya to stay with the babies. Commitment had been hard for him, he told me. He had spent a long time avoiding it, but now he was at a stage in his life where he wanted to devote himself to a relationship. With me. He needed to be with me more than the ellies did. He had planned our whole life together. I would travel with him and be his partner in everything he cared about.

Except that I needed to be with things that I cared about as well.

It had been that simple.

It had been that complicated.

Life with Tom meant attending dinners and dances and parties and all manner of social functions where nary a baby ellie would be found. It meant long gowns and small talk with people I didn't know. It meant jetting around the world with little time to ride my horse. It meant giving up the frightened eyes of an orphaned baby ellie rescued from a deep well, or found frantically crying in the bush surrounded by hungry predators.

I hadn't yet had my fill of African light and whispering plains and torrential monsoons that flooded the savannahs and then retreated, leaving them covered in profusions of wildflowers. Hadn't yet had my fill of the dry parch of drought season that burned the bush into russet sculptures and the earth into hard-pack ridges.

We argued a lot.

Until the argument became the relationship, and every
thing else was lost to it. I started becoming more and more wary of committing myself so soon after my divorce.

It was too soon for me, too soon, and resenting Tom's proscriptions, I chose the ellies. Just for a little while, I promised him, though I didn't, couldn't tell him exactly how long that would be. Feeling wounded, he issued an ultimatum. Feeling trapped, I could do nothing else but flee. And now I needed him to help me buy an elephant.

I sighed and pulled the pillow over my head.

How could I even talk to him about it, after our final words over my trip to Zimbabwe?

But how could I not?

SOMEONE—MAYBE IT WAS TOM?—HAD ONCE TOLD
me that the person who enters the negotiating room first has the strategic advantage over the person who comes later. The first person owns the space. That person can choose where to sit or stand and turn it into a position of power. Since Tom was considered a brilliant negotiator, I decided to follow his advice. Unless I was confusing it with the advice I got from Richie in dealing with lions, in which case you never walk in front of them, and you always let them choose where they want to sit. I wasn't sure which it was. At any rate, Diamond and I left very early the next morning for the sanctuary, hoping it would give me the advantage.

But Tom's car was already there.

 

A hunter green Bentley was parked next to Richie's battered truck. Tom was somewhere, waiting for me. A hundred feet away, perhaps closer, already waiting for me like a lion waiting in the tall grasses for its prey to arrive.

“I like the wheels,” Diamond pronounced as soon as she saw his car. I parked next to it and then sat, rehearsing what I wanted to say to him. I would start with a casual hello, inquire politely about his trip back from Botswana, tell him he looked well, and—

Diamond interrupted my thoughts. “You plan to get out of the car sometime today?”

I smoothed my hair, opened the door, and stood up. Tom would probably be in the elephant barn. No, he'd be checking on the horses—he loved horses. No, he'd be with Richie and Mrs. Wycliff.

“Neelie?”

He was right behind me. His voice, oh, his voice, deep and rich and so sexy that it resonated down into my limbs, the voice that I had heard whispering my name a thousand times in the dark of night. I whirled around. He was a foot away.

He looked the same. The thick silver hair, the odd-shaped scar that violated his handsome face, his eyes the color of reeds and oceans. I had always thought they were such a funny, odd green. He was there, just a few inches from me. Oh God, I thought, it was going to be so hard to speak to him. My heart would drown my tongue in riddles and twist my words and mortify me. But I drew my shoulders back and collected myself. I had risked my life luring Tusker thirty miles through the wildest of Africa—why was I trembling now?

“Hello, Tom,” I said.

He looked so tired that I wanted to caress him. Why couldn't I just throw myself into his arms? Why had I argued with him, when clearly we both wanted the same things?

I knew what to say—hadn't I sat up all night rehearsing it? “Hello, Tom,” I said, but it came out sounding too casual, too light. I immediately regretted saying it like that. The words needed more warmth. Not too much, just a little more. And some authority behind it, so he'd know I was capable and strong.

“Maybe we should go inside,” he said. He turned away from me and made a gesture with his hand for me and Diamond to follow. “Then we can talk.”

I knew from his too-polite smile, from the long, sweeping steps he took until he was leading us from a good distance, that he had taken back all the power. It was the walk of a winning negotiator, and I knew everything was changed between us. If I had any thought there was even a remote chance of resuming things, I now knew it was gone. The chill winter winds that blew across the Kenyan plains had found his heart and frozen it against me.

“He's angry,” Diamond whispered to me as we tried to follow him with rushed steps. “That walk tells me you're going to have another battle on your hands.”

“Then I will battle,” I whispered back, trying to summon my courage. “And you'll help.”

I looked at Diamond for support, but Diamond had stopped walking and reached out to put her hand on my arm.

“As they say in the bush, when elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.” She gave me a sympathetic shrug. “I think I'll stay out here.”

 

I had always believed that absence makes the heart grow fonder, that you affectionately remember all the good things about your lover, while everything that had gone wrong fades away like a shadow in the sunlight. I followed Tom through the mudroom, past the red wellies and the charred spot in the floor, over the two black Labs now snoring on the thick Berber carpet, and into the kitchen, where Richie was already sitting with Mrs. Wycliff. I watched Tom move ahead of me, watched the way he strode, the decisive steps that quickly covered the expanse of the mudroom and thought, I was wrong. Absence hadn't made Tom's heart grow fonder—it just hardened it.

“Harry!” Mrs. Wycliff struggled to rise from her chair, but Tom quickly bent over to kiss the top of her head, and she sat again, placated. The black Labs lumbered over to sniff him before dropping down next to Mrs. Wycliff's chair with deep soul-rending sighs.

“I'm glad you made it on time,” she said, reaching down to scratch one of the dogs on the head. “We don't want to be late for the party.”

“Elisabeth, we all need to talk to you,” Tom said gently, taking her hand and sitting down at the table, next to her. I sat myself next to Richie.

“Did you bring my birthday cake?” Mrs. Wycliff asked.

“We came to talk about the sanctuary,” Richie said.

“I want cake,” Mrs. Wycliff declared. “I've been wait
ing all year to celebrate my birthday, and I want cake.” She pressed against the table to stand up again. Both dogs immediately sat up on full alert. “I'm not doing anything without cake.”

“They're making your cake right now,” I chimed in. “And they'll bring it in right after our meeting.” I patted her hand reassuringly.

“Okay,” she said, and relaxed back into her chair, the dogs dropping down again, sighing loudly that they had to move at all. “I hope they won't forget I like mango filling.”

Richie cleared his throat and began speaking. “You know, Elisabeth, I have another job waiting for me in Alabama.”

“Yes, yes.” Tears immediately sprang into her eyes, and she pulled a frizzy tissue from her pocket to wipe them away. “Harry and I are going to miss you so,” she said, her voice quavering. “You've been like a son to us.”

“And you've been like a mother to me,” Richie agreed. “But you know I have to leave.”

Mrs. Wyclif gestured to me. “Jackie can stay on. We get along very well.”

“I'm Neelie Sterling,” I began, then stopped to think. “But of course I wouldn't mind staying here to take care of you.” I stole a sideways glance at Tom, but his face was expressionless. “And Margo.”

“Neelie, you can stay on with Elisabeth if you want to,” Tom interjected solemnly, “but the elephants are not staying. They can't stay.”

“I fired Margo,” Mrs. Wycliff added.

“Margo is the elephant,” Richie and I said together.

Tom looked frustrated. He tried again. “Elisabeth, re
member that we talked about me buying this place from you? I had given you a very generous offer and we made a deal.”

“Oh yes!” Mrs. Wycliff nodded. “But you said that I can stay here as long as I want.”

“That's right, I did,” Tom agreed. “But you won't be running the sanctuary.”

I knew I had to make my case now. “I can run this place,” I said in my most competent therapist take-charge voice. “I understand what the animals need, and I—I even have an assistant! Diamond worked with animals in Kenya. She owned her own business for twenty years. She knows everything about exotic animals. We can run this place together.”

“That's all very good,” Tom replied, tilting his chair back, a habit of his when he was growing impatient. “But it's not just about throwing a few donuts at your pet elephant. I have plans for this place after the elephants leave.” He pursed his lips together before speaking again. “As for running things, you don't really have the right experience. Do you even know how much it costs to feed one elephant?”

I stared at him. I had to admit, I knew the price of a dozen donuts, but I had never thought of how much a bag of elephant chow cost. Did it come in bags? Or did it come in trunks? Now I was getting giddy from nerves.

“I thought so,” he said at my silence. “At any rate, Margo can't stay. I'm sorry. And I'm not at liberty right now to discuss my future plans—I don't want them jeopardized. So I guess we're finished here.” He stood up and shook Richie's hand and wished him well in Alabama, then smiled at me with his lips curving into a tight smile, his eyes not smiling
at all. “Good luck to you, too, Neelie,” he said, then added softly, “I wish you every bit of happiness.”

I couldn't let it end like this. “Is it money?” I blurted. “Because you have the money to run the sanctuary.” Indeed, as a successful entrepreneur, he was amazingly wealthy. “It would be nothing for you. You're…just trying to punish me, aren't you!”

“Excuse me.” Richie jumped nervously to his feet. “I think I'll take Elisabeth for a walk outside while you two, uh, discuss things.” Apparently, he also knew about elephants fighting and the grass suffering. He moved to help Mrs. Wycliff from her chair, but she stood there with her arms folded. The dogs stood at her side and stared up at her, waiting for her next move.

“I want cake,” she said. “I'm not going anywhere without cake.”

I had to think fast. “Diamond-Rose is waiting outside and has some in her rucksack,” I said. “She'll be glad to give you a piece.”

 

Tom and I were alone. It was the first time in a year, and I didn't know what to expect. We were within touching distance, the tension was palpable, yet all I could think was how badly I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to pull me into his arms and kiss me. I never wanted that so much. His arms, his shoulders, I wanted them to envelop me and take away my weariness and my heartache. He took a step toward me, and I lifted my face, half expecting, hoping for a kiss.

He looked so handsome, his lips were half parted, the
scar that ran down his cheek ached for my fingers to trace it. His green eyes studied my face.

“Are you closing the sanctuary?” I asked him bluntly.

He blinked in surprise. “No,” he said. “I have no plans to close this place.”

“Even after you buy it? You promise?”

He drew himself up and took a deep breath. “Normally, that would offend me,” he said. “But I know you mean well.”

We stood for a moment. I had something else to ask, something more important, but it was difficult for me. “Tom,” I started, “we need to talk about Tusker.”

He impatiently brushed it away. “We had to leave him, I already told you that. Let it go.” He crossed his arms as though to block any more questions from me.

“I can't just forget about him,” I said. “Not after all the work we did getting him to the other camp!”

Tom stared at me for a moment, his lips compressed into a tight line, as if he were struggling with his composure. “I'm trying to stay polite, Neelie,” he said, “but what in hell were you doing in Zimbabwe, anyway?” He stepped even closer, and it felt like he was towering over me, even though he was only a few inches taller. His face betrayed his growing rage.

“That part doesn't matter. It was just the way things worked out.” I took a deep breath to steady myself. “But Diamond and I are going to save Tusker whether you help or not.”

“Are you crazy?” he spat out angrily. “First of all, who came up with that harebrained scheme with the oranges?”

“It worked,” I said.

“Until you find out that you have two hundred elephants waiting for breakfast the next morning,” he snapped.

“Actually, it was Grisha's idea,” I said defensively. “And Charlotte's. And they're the elephant experts. I just followed orders.”

He shook his head with exasperation. “I'm not going to discuss rescue strategies with you right now,” he said, each word controlled and precise. “You and I just need to attend to the business at hand, which really doesn't concern you, but I am extending the courtesy of an explanation.” He paused and took a deep breath. “First of all, Elisabeth is frail and getting, well, getting lost. You can see that for yourself. When she passes, she has no heirs. That's why I'm buying her out.”

“But this place is all she has,” I protested.

“She's ninety-three, for God's sake,” Tom shot back. “I intend to buy the farm from her at a fair price. It's not even in good repair. The money she gets will take care of her very well for the rest of her life. Her lawyer can hire her a private nurse or whatever she'll need.”

“But what does that have to do with Margo? Why can't she stay on?”

“She can't, and I won't discuss it any further.” His face was impenetrable. There was nothing in his eyes that I was familiar with. “I won't change my mind.”

Suddenly it was a year ago and I was back in Nairobi, at Jomo Kenyatta Airport, feeling the biting August winds swirling those very same words into a bitter mix. Nairobi, where I had loved him. Where I had lost him. But we were in New York now. The cold winds might be gone, but the chilling resentment apparently remained inside of him.

“If you won't discuss Margo, then just tell me why we can't bring Tusker here?” I took a deep breath. “We're still planning to get him out of Zimbabwe and—”

“I told you to let it go, didn't I?” he interrupted angrily, his voice cutting my words in half like a knife.

“You don't understand.” I shook my head. “After we left the Popes, Diamond and I spoke to someone in the ministry in Harare and”—Tom's face grew more incredulous with each word—“we made arrangements to…buy…Tusker.”

Tom looked at me for one long moment. “You
what
?” His voice rose with anger. “You did
what
?”

“We made a deal.”

He ran his hand through his hair and began to pace back and forth, covering the kitchen in great loping strides. “You're a fool! And an idiot!” He spat his words out like bullets. “You did something dangerous and foolish and amazingly stupid! You don't even know what you're getting involved with.” He stopped to stare at me in disbelief, his face clouded with fury.