Claire's Prayer (16 page)

Seth’s husky voice reached her: “Claire, look at me. Look at me.”

Unable to deny his hoarse plea, Claire’s eyes met and clung to his. She felt raw and exposed by the ferocious desire that gripped her.

She felt his warm breath tickle her ear.
He’s about to tell me
, Claire thought.
He had to feel the same; he had to…

Seth whispered, “I want you, Claire. I can’t deny these feelings any longer. Let me… Just make love to you. Then this ridiculous stress between us will go away.”

Claire reeled.

Pulling away from him as if stung, She glared up wildly.
How could I have been so stupid? Seth Henderson was interested only in what every other stupid, heathen viper wanted.
Claire was furious that she could possibly have thought otherwise.

“You keep away from me, Seth Henderson – do you hear?” she flung at him. “I don’t
do
… I don’t do
that
!” Her voice lowered to a hiss. “Don’t even
talk
to me again.”

Eluding his reaching hands, Claire frantically ran off. Reaching her lodge, shaken and out of breath, she let herself in and latched the door. Throwing herself onto the bed, she gave in to her distraught feelings and wept wildly for a long time. As the well of tears within her died, so the deep ache in her body dulled.

For a long time she lay, puffy eyed, talking to God and questioning her own mind. She was fractionally less angry at Seth, now, than with herself. How
could
Seth think that having sex would
kill
the feelings between them? But how could
she
have thought better of him? She did not know what type of women he had known before, but the idea that he could mistake her for anyone like that…

This had to be the turning point for them. Claire had been brought up to believe that the act of love was sacred, to be enjoyed and shared in the sanctity of marriage. She could understand that others might not share her beliefs, but not to understand them… Not even to
know
them… She shuddered as her mind, and body, recalled how they had responded in Seth’s arms. Jerking upright as a knock sounded at the door, Claire sent up a desperate prayer asking for anyone but Seth to be outside.

Joseph greeted her cheerfully, although his dark, sympathetic eyes lingered on Claire’s still-red ones. Claire hurried to help him: in one hand he balanced her covered lunch tray, while the other clutched her suitcase and handbag. Thanking him, and depositing her bags in her room, Claire took the tray and sat down under the shady tree that had inspired Shoko. She picked listlessly at her lunch. Quickly giving up the pretence of eating, she instead moved back into the lodge, unpacked her suitcase and arranged her sketches – all but one – around the walls. Trying to pull herself together, she sat down to write a breezy letter to Aunt Ellen. Reading through it half an hour later, Claire was satisfied that she had done a good imitation of someone who was
fine
. She had almost convinced even herself. Feeling utterly drained, Claire lay on her bed and pulled the covers over herself.

What concerned her most – what lingered in the back of her mind and in the pit of her stomach with a ragged, aching gnaw – was her knowledge that a part of her, a small part but a real one, had wanted to say ‘yes’ to Seth. The physical attraction between them was so strong. She knew that the real source of her fury had been that, honestly, she did not know if she could control herself around him any longer.
Why aren’t you helping me?!
she screamed in prayer and in tears, and resented herself still more for the accusation.

Chapter Twelve

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.

(Solomon 9:10)

Far removed from Claire’s distress, Naomi spent the afternoon driving around the ranch with Tony. There was a new intimacy between them, and Naomi vowed silently to herself that she would keep the lines of communication open between them. Tony’d been so ready to talk about the important things – the subjects she had been avoiding in order, she thought, to spare him hurt – that Naomi had realised it had been she, and only she, who’d built them up into a problem. That day at Victoria Falls, she’d told him with no uncertainty what he meant to her and he, in turn, had banished her doubts about his love for her. Quietly, he’d told her everything –
everything
he could – about his late wife and child. About their Sunday-morning pancakes and their arguments alike; about everything he still missed and, conversely, everything he’d learned he loved about his own life only in the most recent years. Naomi felt the pain of his loss almost as keenly as he must have felt it all those years ago, but believed Tony unequivocally when he said he felt the past was the past, and life went on: time waits for no man – or woman. Tony’s tender, sombre love for the woman and child who’d been his family was, Naomi could see, as much a part of him as her love for her parents… but love, she’d realised, wasn’t a commodity to be budgeted out. Tony had more than enough left to fill the rest of her life. She, in turn, adored this strong, feeling man. He was her rock, her anchor in a life of endless ups and downs.

As Naomi placed her hand on his knee in the Jeep, Tony felt the subtle warmth of her touch. Turning to meet her gaze, he felt himself drowning in its depths. Naomi’s love shone out of her like a beacon. Stepping on the brake, he slowed the Jeep to a stop. He pulled her into his sheltering arms, and her whispered ‘I love you’ was crushed against his mouth. For a long time, a profound silence reigned.

Cradled on Tony’s lap, Naomi felt like all the torrents and vicissitudes of her emotions (her doubt, her insecurity) had been replaced by a deep calm. Held there in complete security, and without over-thinking the impulse, Naomi closed her eyes and whispered a prayer – just as she had seen Claire do so many times. She thanked God for bringing this gentle man into her life, and asked everything she could for their future. Naomi opened her eyes and wondered at the deep sense of peace she felt. Maybe praying did make a difference. She vowed to do it more often.

Eventually, Tony insisted they drive back. Naomi, reluctant to be far from him, cuddled up tightly against his side. With his left arm holding her securely, Tony returned them to the house. Naomi sighed in contentment. She had nothing left to worry about.

Seth, meanwhile, had spent a frustrating afternoon at the dairy. His efforts to take stock and organise the ordering of feed did not keep his buzzing thoughts from dwelling on Claire and the look of devastation he’d seen in her eyes. He felt a stab of guilt every time he recalled the brutal bluntness of his words to her. He had never meant to say that – sure, he’d thought it once or twice, but actually to say those words out loud, to her? He had no idea what he’d been thinking. He
hadn’t
been thinking; he’d just let his body drive his mind. One thing was for sure: he could never have expected Claire to have reacted otherwise.
Why can’t she just see it the way it should be
, Seth fumed;
why can’t she just go with her emotions?
But as soon as he’d thought the question, he answered it:
Because then she wouldn’t be Claire.

Seth knew that what had seemed just clinginess and desperation for promises of wedding bells in Carol was something deeper in Claire. She didn’t just want a wedding; she wanted a marriage. She wanted – and deserved – love and mutuality. But that was something that he certainly did
not
want, or need, right now: the ties of a wife.
Especially one that twined his gut in knots and occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of all else
, he thought bitterly. No, he’d just have to forget about Claire like that, he decided. She wasn’t going anywhere soon, and he couldn’t keep tearing himself up like this. First things first, he needed to clear the air. He supposed that’d mean an apology.

Trudging back to the house to wash, Seth was not looking forward to dinner. Aside from dreading seeing Claire, he found he could barely bring himself to face sitting alongside the so-effusively-happy couple. That was another thing: Seth couldn’t quite fathom the discomfort Tony and Naomi’s engagement was causing in his mind. Tony was a good man; there was no-one he’d rather have as a brother-in-law. They had talked a lot during the past days and Seth had been shocked at the depth of feeling Tony had revealed himself to have for Naomi. He seemed to consider the ties of marriage to be more akin to celebration garlands than the restraints Seth had always been so keen to avoid.

After what seemed mere seconds since she’d closed her eyes, Claire awoke with a fright. The wind had risen, and the billowing curtains had knocked her perfume off the dressing table. Leaning back against the headboard as her heartbeats quietened, she eventually slipped off the bed and pulled the offending window closed. Heavy grey clouds were racing across the sky, and an ominous stillness filled the late afternoon. Glancing at her wristwatch, Claire realised that she had only fifteen minutes to make her way to the main house; they’d arranged to have pre-dinner drinks to celebrate Naomi and Tony’s future. She quickly splashed her sleep-flushed face and pulled a brush through the thick curtain of her hair. Out here in the wild, she had let it grow longer than she usually wore it. Tossing her head, she watched in the mirror as it flew in golden strands around her head, and then settled into a flowing fall that came, she saw, to just below her shoulder-blades. It would have to do. Grabbing her jacket from the floor where she’d distractedly left it, she left the lodge with seconds to spare. Hurrying up the pathway, feeling biting apprehension about seeing Seth but determinedly striding onwards, she entered the lounge. Naomi was curled up on the sofa, and Claire noticed that Tony was opening a bottle of champagne. Greeting the two of them and hugging Tony warmly, she took a seat. The door swung inwards, announcing Seth’s arrival, and Claire felt suddenly nauseous. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take of the constant tension she felt at Impunzi now: the simultaneous magnetism and antagonism she felt for Seth, the hope, the rage, the guilt, the recriminations… Avoiding looking at him, she focused instead on the glass of champagne Tony held out to her. Seeing Naomi’s shining eyes and her finacé’s easy confidence, Claire knew she couldn’t bring herself just to leave. She knew she’d have to face it out.

The disparate quartet had just toasted to years of married bliss when the dinner gong sounded. Sitting down at her usual place, Claire tensed as Seth settled next to her. Trying to ignore his presence, Claire spent most of the meal speaking to Naomi. Seth, though, seemed to feel no such discomfort. He seemed actively to be trying to engage her in his conversation: too often her eyes accidently clashed with his, and when they did she felt like a fly under a microscope. Seth seemed to be taking pleasure in making her feel uncomfortable. Consequently, she had more wine than she normally would and felt still less in control of her mind’s volatile whims to scream, cry and self-destruct all at once. Hugging Naomi again and pleading exhaustion as soon as coffee was offered, she politely refused Seth’s offer to walk her back, bade them all a ‘good night’ and left.

The beginnings of a headache beat an insistent rhythm in Claire’s head. Gratefully leaving the main house, she stood a while in the velvet darkness, allowing the tension to flow out of her. She felt drained. Back in the lodge, unable to concentrate on her Bible reading, she closed the well-used book in self-disgust. Instead, she closed her eyes and allowed its scripture to float up from her memory.
Whoever ignores instruction despises himself
, she remembered… Well, that certainly sounded like her. Tears came to Claire’s eyes. She detested the way Seth made her feel, needy and vunerable but, even after he’d insulted her so terribly, she seemed to have no self-control where he was concerned. …
but he who listens to reproof gains intelligence
, Claire completed the proverb. He who listens to reproof, Claire echoed to herself.
I’m listening, Lord. Please let me hear you.

Clicking the light off, she lay for many sleepless hours, trying to bring some semblance of order back into her mind. Eventually sleep crept over her and stilled the turmoil in her heart.

Unknowingly, Claire had slept through the echoing gong that signalled breakfast-time. The sun was already quite high in the azure-blue sky when she finally forced her eyelids open. Aghast, she fumbled for her watch. It took a few seconds for the time to register: it was less than a quarter to ten. With a groan, she sank back against the pillows. What would everyone think of her, sleeping until this hour? Fifteen minutes later found her showered and ready to face what was left of the morning and, after enjoying numerous cups of tea, she reluctantly made her way to the main house. Claire felt relieved, but slightly let down, on finding no-one there except Joseph, who was busily baking scones. Gladly accepting a couple – fresh-baked, warm and smothered in strawberry jam – an idea suddenly came to her.

“Joseph, would it be too much trouble if I asked for my breakfast to be brought to the lodge?”

Eying her candidly, Joseph straightened after removing the final batch of scones from the oven. “You don’t want to eat at the big house, Miss Claire?”

Concerned that he might misconstrue her request as a slight on his breakfasts so far, she answered quickly, “No – no, it’s not that, Joseph. It’s just that I came here to work, and now I’m
really
behind. They’ve been keeping me so busy!” she added, trying to lighten her tone. “It’ll just be for a while… Is that okay?”

“Okay, Miss Claire,” he assured her; “that’s no problem for me.”

Claire noticed something too insightful pass across Joseph’s eyes, but couldn’t face it. Thanking him for the lovely scones and feeling quite pleased with her decision, Claire made her way unhurriedly back to the lodge.

Joseph watched her go. He certainly didn’t mind taking breakfast to Claire: she was such an easy guest to please… unlike some of the fussy tourists he’d seen come to the ranch. Sighing as he transferred his scones from tray to cooling rack, Joseph wondered if it was really Claire’s work schedule that kept her away – or if Seth had messed things up.

Back at the lodge, Claire moved a chair out into the warming sunlight and spent the rest of the morning sketching the monkeys. Stopping only briefly to eat her lunch, she continued her work throughout the afternoon, typing up her notes. Only her aching hands forced her to rest and, at about four o’clock, she smiled as she reread her progress with Shoko’s story so far: three double-page spreads lay in front of her.

Shoko huddled against the tree branch, rain dripping down his face. He shivered, and tried again to look for his family troop. How he wished he had listened to his mama and not wandered off! Now he was lost and all alone.

Shoko didn’t like being alone. It was scary. Where, oh where, was his family? Shaking the rain off his furry body, the little monkey dashed down and ran to another tree. Maybe this was the way home! Suddenly, Shoko stopped in horror. What was that he had seen?

A huge baboon was asleep, right in his path! Shoko’s eyes darted from side to side – which way now? The sleepy baboon opened one deep brown eye, and then the other. He stared at the little monkey in front of him. Shoko’s body couldn’t, wouldn’t move, he was so scared!

The baboon stretched, stood to its full height and barked out, “What are you doing here, little monkey?”

With chattering teeth, Shoko whispered, “I’m l… l… lost!”

“Hmmm…” the baboon rumbled. “You must belong to the troop of monkeys that live in the trees behind the rocks and over the swamp.”

Shoko made to bound off in the direction the baboon had pointed, but he hadn’t finished.

“You’ll make a tasty lunch!” the baboon bellowed.

The baboon reached out a long, strong arm covered in dark hair, and leaned down towards Shoko.

Shoko tried to see a way out, but the baboon was just too big. Mama was right! The bush was not safe!

Shoko closed his eyes tightly and waited for the baboon to grab him…

Claire laid down her pages. The rest could follow later; for now, she’d work on her drawings. She fished out her first sketch of the baboon, which she’d drawn the day after Naomi’s braai. She’d overdone it a bit, but it was good start. Certainly there was something hauntingly paralysing in the baboon’s deep, dark stare…

Finally going inside to make a fresh pot of tea, Claire heard the sound of singing coming from somewhere nearby. Just as the kettle boiled, Naomi’s smiling face appeared around the door.

“Aha! The elusive Claire. What have you been doing with yourself all day?”

Smiling in genuine pleasure at seeing Naomi’s friendly face, and adding an extra cup and saucer to the tray, Claire waved Naomi to sit down.

“Oh, this and that. I woke up horrifyingly late, but Joseph gave me some of his delicious scones. The rest of the day I’ve been sketching the monkeys and planning my new book! Very productive. How about you?”

Accepting her tea, Naomi settled comfortably on the sofa. Happiness shone from her eyes.

“I spent the day with Tony. Oh, Claire… Stop me if I get insufferable, but it’s
great
to be in love like this! I wish I could be with him every moment of every day and night!” Naomi pulled a doe-eyed look of exaggerated mooning and giggled at herself. “Do you want to hear our wedding plans?” she asked, with a self-consciously raised eybrow.

Nodding interestedly, Claire listened as Naomi talked on.

“Well, where do I start? We’ve set the wedding date for the beginning of next month…” Seeing Claire was ready to question the date, Naomi held up a stalling hand. “Yes, I know it’s soon! But I’ve been waiting for this for such a long time, so why keep waiting? I don’t want to waste any more time apart.” Naomi looked across at Claire, appreciating how close they’d grown in the short time they’d known each other.