Claire's Prayer (21 page)

Chapter Fifteen

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

(1 John 1:8-9)

We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.

(1 Corinthians 15:51)

When Seth knocked on the door, Claire was ready.

After he’d left her that morning, she had no longer been able to stop the tide of her tears. They’d flowed, soaking her pillow, and great shuddering sobs had shaken her body. Claire felt empty, alone and used. How could Seth have taken her love, and turned it into a cheap one-night stand? Was he so scared of commitment – or just commitment to her?

Claire thought back, running her mind over all the moments that had led to this mistake. She had always wanted to save her virginity for her husband; it had been so important, and now… Now it was gone. Lost. Taken. Claire trembled as she recalled how Rory had once tried to convince her into making love, how outraged she’d been, and how easy she’d found repelling him. Claire wiped the tears impatiently from her cheeks, acknowledging that what she felt for Seth and anything she’d thought she felt for Rory were oceans apart. Closing her puffy eyes she silently and brokenly spoke to God, desperately seeking forgiveness and peace for her shattered heart.

Eventually, the tears had stopped. Standing under a hot shower, Claire had tried to block the hurt and the feeling of being used from her mind. She’d washed herself roughly, trying to erase her deceptive memories: Seth muttering her name hoarsely as he kissed the tender line of her jaw… her whole body quivering, tight as a bow string… feeling as if she were climbing to the stars, higher and higher… Seth speaking softly, “I didn’t know, honey – you didn’t say. Are you okay?”

Dressing hurriedly in jeans and a plain, warm cotton blouse, she’d packed her belongings and was now sat, waiting. By the time Seth’s knock came, she was calm. Numb.

Now Claire looked at Seth and saw a stranger; nothing penetrated the veil of her pain. Returning his terse greeting vaguely, she followed him to the BMW. For once not interested in the scenery and wildlife, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Seth glanced at her often, noting the shadows under her eyes – and the traces of her tears. What did she expect from him now? A lifetime commitment, because he had taken her virginity? She had been a willing partner, he knew that. Completely willing: it had been very good between them; they were good together. But just by looking at her, he knew that she would never consent to having an affair with him.
With Claire
, Seth scoffed to himself bitterly,
it would have to be spiritual. Holy. Intolerable.

Squashing the rebellious tenderness that filled his heart as he looked at her, Seth turned his eyes away and put the radio on. His life had become much too complicated since Claire had entered it. He felt she’d forced him almost to want things he had always rejected: permanent things, things that tied a person down and made him vulnerable. He didn’t want to care about Claire. One day, something would happen to him, or to her, and then there would be only more emptiness and suffering. It was better to stay alone, not to get too involved or too close to anyone. But Seth could not block the images of their loving from his mind.

Claire woke up at Impunzi. The slam of Seth’s car door broke through the mists of her sleeping mind, and she watched him stride away towards the main house. Grabbing her luggage, she went directly to the lodge. Claire’s hands shook as she began to unpack, but she remained dry-eyed, focused on the radio she’d turned up to block out her thoughts. After half an hour, as Claire closed her wardrobe, there was a knock on the door. Claire froze. Resolving herself, she crossed the room and flung it open before her nerve could fail. But it wasn’t Seth. It was Joseph, bearing a tray.

At the sight of Joseph’s kind, lined face, something in Claire gave way; tears spilled from her eyes before she could stop them. Joseph hastily put down the tea tray and gently guided her to a chair. She felt the gentle touch of his big hand as he patted her on the shoulder until her breathing calmed. Joseph just stood beside her, letting her tears fall. Eventually, Claire felt some tissues being pressed into her clenched hands and took them gratefully. Joseph waited until she looked up at him and then asked, softly, “Why’re you so sad, Miss Claire?”

Sighing deeply, Claire watched as he poured her a cup of tea. “Sorry, Joseph,” she said at last. Then, lamely, she added, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

Crouching to bring their faces to a level and laying his weathered hand gently over hers, Joseph said reassuringly, “Don’t be sorry, Miss Claire. It’s good to cry. Crying lets out all the hurt from inside. Is it your parents – d’you miss them?”

Sipping the tea, Claire answered truthfully. “I miss them so much, Joseph. I have to keep reminding myself that I will see them again one day, but… it’s so hard. I need them.”

Nodding his grey head, Joseph refilled her teacup. “I see you reading the good book, Miss Claire, and I’ve seen you talking to God. You’re doing what’s best for you – only God can make the hurting heal. I said the same for the boss and Miss Naomi when their parents died. But they didn’t talk to God, and their healing took longer – much longer. For the boss, maybe not even…” Joseph tailed off, discreetly.

Looking into his wise eyes, Claire said, almost pleadingly, “I do rely on God, Joseph, but…” Claire’s voice cracked. “But now I’ve failed Him and He seems so far away.”

Taking her empty cup and placing it on the tray, Joseph answered firmly. “Miss Claire, God is God. He doesn’t move away from you. Talk to Him, and He always hears. Impunzi is a good place to heal, I promise you.”

Joseph stood and walked towards the door, but turned before he reached it. “You will be okay, Miss Claire,” he promised. “It’s just, sometimes things happen that we can’t understand. Only God can give us peace inside, and heal all the ugly wounds. If He can heal my homeland, He can heal your heart.”

Claire could thank Joseph for his kindness only mutely, and watched him walk out into the sunshine. Then, automatically, she ate the biscuits he’d left in front of her, and finished the tea. Still feeling drained and tired, she tried to read her book until lunchtime, with little success. She was still in the same chair when Joseph reappeared with a lunch of mild mutton curry hours later – but, surprisingly, she ate it all. Her inner numbness was obviously not affecting her appetite. Feeling sleepy afterwards, she took two aspirin and curled up under her covers, hoping that when she woke up the pounding in her head would have gone.

Claire was grateful, from that moment on, for Naomi’s wedding frenzy. She had returned from Bulawayo two days earlier than Tony, with good news: his mother was making real progress to recovery, and would even, they hoped, be able to come to Impunzi for the wedding. As though this was the signal she’d needed, Naomi had gone into organizational overdrive. Claire welcomed the distraction as though it were a lifeline, trying to fill every waking moment and praying that she would be able to avoid Seth. Immersed as she was, she couldn’t help but be caught up in her friend’s excitement: although the events for the day would be simple, no expense was being spared. Between Seth and Tony, Naomi’s every desire was being fulfilled. Seth, for his part, seemed to keep himself busy and away from Claire. Most evenings, he was not even home for supper. Naomi mentioned that he was helping Simon to build new bomas, but had been surprised he’d chosen to fit it in around their own preparations. Claire was not surprised; she was simply glad she didn’t have to deal with his presence. Now and then, when Claire caught a glimpse of him, her heart raced and her breathing became erratic. Seth looked, at all of these times, completely impassive.

With two days to go before the wedding, the ranch was buzzing with caterers and ranch hands. Trucks came and went, delivering tables and chairs. Naomi herself was a ball of nerves, too distracted by her pending nuptials to notice much about what was going on with Claire. Claire, in turn, was exhausting herself trying not to think about Seth, and how she felt she had…
transgressed
. There was no other word for it. She was staying up too late, to stop herself from dreaming, and spending all her waking energy helping Naomi and Tony to prepare the ranch. Claire only realised she must be overdoing things when even Naomi, in the midst of her happy distraction, sat her down with concern in her eyes.

“Claire, you look tired out! You should take more care of yourself,” Naomi told her friend, her hand on Claire’s arm. Claire blinked rapidly, turning away from Naomi, trying to stem the tears that were never far from her eyes.

“I’m fine, Naomi,” she insisted.

Watching her intently, Naomi probed, “Look, Claire, I might be preoccupied, but I’m not blind! Both you and Seth have been acting weirdly since the game reserve trip. Come on; I care about you – both of you. What’s up?”

Claire forced herself to laugh lightly, willing herself not to cry instead. This was Naomi’s special time. “I’m fine, honestly, you worrier! Just a bit tired. I’ve been working too late into the evenings, I guess.”

Naomi was still looking at her doubtfully, and Claire heaved a sigh of relief as some ranch workers called her come and check if the tables were placed where she wanted them. As she dashed away, the worried bride-to-be brushed off Claire’s protests.

“Just go to bed,” Naomi insisted. “Remember, you can’t be ill for the wedding,” she added with a grin. “It’d ruin all your hard work!”

Naomi had flitted away to make a decision about the tables and, reluctantly, Claire had tried to sleep. She ached all over, and couldn’t eat a bite of the dinner Joseph brought.
After all this
, Claire thought,
am I really going to spoil Naomi’s day by being unwell?
She couldn’t –
wouldn’t
– be ill. Her friendship with Naomi was the only good thing she felt she would take from Impunzi now, and she couldn’t bear the thought of letting her friend down on the most important day of Naomi’s life. And, apart from anything else, she couldn’t face the thought she might need to be looked after: with Naomi so needed elsewhere, the prospect of Seth as her nurse make Claire’s stomach drop. Determinedly, she lay down and closed her eyes.

But the next day, the morning before the wedding, Claire woke up still with a nauseous feeling in her stomach, and with a concentrated pain behind her eyes. As she took her first sip of tea and tried to stand up, she had to stagger to the bathroom to be violently sick. Bathing her face and brushing her teeth furiously, Claire resolved to see the doctor in Hwange when she and Naomi went to collect the wedding dress and bridesmaids’ dresses – she wouldn’t miss the trip, and she couldn’t worry Naomi with how she was feeling. Before they left the house, she quietly called the doctors’ and made an appointment. If it was a stomach bug or something, she could just take an antiemetic and be fine, Claire convinced herself; if the pain in her head was to blame, she’d just have more aspirin. Either way, she would cope.

Claire’s brief absence in town had hardly been noticed, although Claire had felt guilty for taking it. Naomi’s emotions were so close to the surface that Claire wished she could take better care of her friend: she seemed to be floating on a cloud during most of their time in town, and the wedding dress had looked astonishing. As Naomi’d tried it on, Claire had gazed at her in awe: she was a vision of loveliness. This time together felt poignant; Claire knew it was all coming to an end, and sooner than she’d thought. Very soon indeed, she wouldn’t see Naomi any more. She made an absolutely beautiful bride. But, as Naomi stared at herself in the full-length mirror, her tears fell.

“Oh, Claire,” Naomi whispered, “I’m not miserable, it’s just… I just wish my parents were here for my wedding. I wish my mom could see me in my wedding dress – it’s almost an exact replica of hers.”

Claire held her close, as she cried.

“My dad was supposed to walk me down the aisle, too; he should be giving me away…”

Continuing to hold her, Claire whispered in a choked voice. “I believe your parents will be here, Naomi, on your wedding day: they’ll be watching over you. They never really leave as long as you’re thinking about them.”

Naomi looked up, grateful to know that Claire understood so clearly what she needed to hear. Claire grabbed fistfuls of tissues and pressed them into her friend’s hands.

“Now come on,” she said, looking Naomi in the eyes and smiling, “dry your eyes. This is your special time – and you don’t want mascara on that gorgeous dress!”

A hug and a take-away coffee later, Naomi was bubbling over again – and was glowing by the time they got back to the ranch.

And now, as the icing on the wedding cake, they could see as their car pulled in that Naomi’s school friend Susan, her other bridesmaid, had arrived from Harare. As Naomi stepped out Susan flew towards her, all smiles and nostalgia. Claire was glad that Naomi was distracted by the arrival of her old friend for a few hours – but later she joined the two of them as they gossiped, preened and pampered themselves in readiness for tomorrow.

Naomi got her wish. The day of the wedding was perfect. The setting was stunning, the weather glorious, and she looked like an angel. Claire smiled and laughed, all the while hiding her discomfort. What had begun as sickness and an excruciating headache she now knew to be something more – but on top of that, she felt certain something must be about to happen to break the joy of the occasion.
Things just can’t be so different but still seem just the same, can they?
She asked herself. But the day passed by in a blur of noises and people. Sitting quietly, Claire allowed herself to watch Seth, who was the master of ceremonies and Tony’s best man. While he entertained the guests, Claire let her eyes memorise his every detail. Memories, she knew, were soon all she would have of him. He looked magnificent in his tuxedo, dashing and handsome.

The reception on the lawns of Impunzi was festive: Tony hadn’t stopped smiling – and his mother, Claire was glad to see, was both on her feet and beaming from ear to ear. Naomi flitted from place to place, her face radiant and her happiness tangible. The celebration was to go on into the early hours of the morning, but Claire excused herself, pleading tiredness, at midnight. She breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the lodge door. Tomorrow, she knew, she would call the airline and get her departure date brought forward.