Shooting Butterflies (34 page)

The letter slipped from Wayne's hand and fell to the floor.

His chest hurt, he couldn't breathe, he saw black spots rush in front of his eyes. Forcing air into his lungs, he rapidly blinked his eyes to clear them, his breathing slowly returned to normal.

Tara.

After all these years, in which he had found no trace of her, Tara had reached out to him to make contact.

She had a brain tumour. She could be dying.

He glanced at the clock that hung above the arch in the lounge. 21:30. If he got his helicopter pilot Ryan Maskell up and ready at first light, he could catch the commercial plane out from Durban to Cape Town in the morning.

Now, there was someone else who needed to know. Someone else who had waited years for news of Tara.

He stood up, still holding the letter, and rushed out the door.

Just shy of twelve long hours later Wayne removed his leather wide-brimmed hat, and ran his hand through his short hair. He struggled to hide his frustration at the people in front who were taking their own sweet time getting off the plane. Choosing business class was supposed to speed up your departure off the plane, but there were some tourists just ahead of him who were in no hurry at all. He chomped at the bit, waiting to get off.

‘I'm driving,' Jamison said right behind him. ‘You can navigate.' Wayne almost smiled. Ryan had flown them in their Squirrel helicopter to Virginia Airport. A car had taken them to Louis Botha Airport on the south side, where they had boarded the flight to Cape Town. Travelling light, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, Jamison was right behind him.

He was almost on her doorstep.

Fourteen years he had waited for this moment.

Fourteen years he had dreamt that one day Tara and he would finally be together again. And Josha. His family. He'd never imagined their reunion to be like this.

Within moments they were at the check-in desk of the car rental company.

Wayne asked, ‘Can I please have a map of the city?' and was given one. As the clerk behind the counter continued with the paperwork, he took his credit card from his wallet and laid it on the desk, and within minutes they were handed the keys to the car.

Wayne glanced at his watch. The plan was to go to Tara and Gabe's house before booking into the hotel. He had rung from the airport payphone before he caught the plane, to let Tara know they were on their way. At the time, Tara had been out walking on the beach with Josha, but Wayne had spoken on the phone to Gabriel. Gabe, the same cousin Tara had spoken of so fondly so many years ago.

He stared out the window at the buildings as they drove through the city. Lost in his own thoughts of when they had first been together. Always and forever they had pledged. To him it had meant the end of time.

Until he received her letter. Now he knew differently.

His heart squeezed in his chest just thinking about her, and a lump formed in his throat. There was a possibility that he was going to lose her, and there was nothing he could do about it, for the second time in his life.

The only silver lining to the gloom was that he was going to meet his son, Josha. He didn't even know if Josha knew about him or not. What if he detested him? His future was filled with doubt and uncertainty. Fourteen long years had passed since the last time Tara had thrown his world into turmoil, when his mother had been responsible for ripping the two of them apart, and he had allowed it.

He had pushed Tara away just as his father had told him, to stop his mother forcing Tara into having an abortion. Yet at sixteen
years old, he had never imagined it would take him almost another lifetime before he saw her again.

Now he wasn't an impressionable youngster anymore.

This time he could make his own decisions.

He was a man and a father.

Realising that Jamison was asking for the next direction, he forced his mind back to the present, and found the road name to get them to Camps Bay.

20

The Meeting

Cape Town, South Africa

3rd March 1998

Wayne drummed his fingers on the side of the car as Jamison pushed the intercom on the gate. Someone inside pressed the button to allow the gate to open, and Jamison drove up the driveway to park their car alongside a dark blue BMW under a carport in the front of the beachfront home. The front door was already opened when Wayne and Jamison strode up the steps.

Wayne looked Gabe over. He was the same height as him, and he looked as if he belonged on the cover of a fancy
GQ
magazine. Even his black shoes had a shine to them.

Gabe greeted them in a hushed tone. ‘At long bladdy last we meet. I told her you would come!'

Wayne liked Gabe instantly. ‘Nice to meet you too,' he said, keeping his voice quiet. ‘This is Jamison,' Wayne said in introduction as he shook Gabe's hand, and Jamison did the same.

‘I'll take you through. She's sleeping, but should wake soon. It's the pain drugs, they knock her for a six, but they lessen the headaches,' Gabe said.

They passed through an open-plan lounge that combined with a dayroom in the front of the house. Wayne's palms sweated, and he could feel his heart rate had elevated. The large room overlooked the sea, and was decorated to match the surroundings in whites and light blues, with a nautical darker blue flowing throughout. The white wicker chairs, with their overstuffed blue-striped cushions, seemed to invite you in, to enjoy the comfort and the view. He could see an antique chaise longue set up near the window, and Tara lay propped up on cushions, a light blanket covering her from feet to shoulders.

Tara.

Fourteen long years had passed since he had last seen her, and now she was there, in front of him. He snatched a quick intake of much needed oxygen, as his eyes travelled further into the room.

A willowy boy was sprawled in the chair next to Tara. His hairy right leg twitched as if he was keeping the beat to some music. Wayne noticed the set of headphones over his fair hair. He wore rugby shorts and no shoes, and was slouched at an unusual angle over the chair as only a teenager could manage and still be comfortable. His eyes were closed.

It had to be Josha.

He wanted desperately to rush up and hug him tightly. He had missed everything with Josha: his first smile, first step, and first day of school. He had a son who was a total stranger to him.

He took a deeper breath. Since receiving Tara's letter, the haunting question had been, did his son know about him?

He had assumed that his son would be in school, that he would have a chance to speak to Tara before meeting Josha, yet his son was there, an unexpected gift he wasn't sure he was ready to face just yet.

Jamison was right behind him, and had bumped into his back when he had stopped so suddenly.

For a moment more, Wayne simply drank in the sight, Josha's eyes closed and his large foot tapping haphazardly.

He walked slowly into the room.

Josha didn't notice the intrusion. He didn't move from his position in the chair, his foot still tapping.

Wayne couldn't stop his heart thumping in his chest.

Good God, when last had he been so nervous? He wiped his hands on his Wranglers.

Gabe tapped Josha on the foot.

The moment of truth had arrived.

Josha opened his eyes and jumped up. He stared at Wayne as he took the headphones off, leaving them dangling around his neck.

‘Josha, this is Wayne,' Gabe said.

Wayne held out his hand as he looked at his son. He was tall, not quite the same height as himself, but he hadn't filled out yet. He was almost thirteen. He was at the stage where his arms and legs looked too long for his body. His baggy T-shirt top didn't hide the fact that his son stooped, as if conscious of his height and hating it. His thick blond hair was cut in a typical boy's school cut, blunt fringe and short back and sides. Eyes as blue as the African sky stared back at him.

Eyes he'd stared at in a photograph for years, now connected with his.

Josha looked like Tara, the shape of his full lips, his pixie nose. The freckles that touched his face as he had been kissed by the sun. But he could see his younger self in Josha's face too, the way he held his head, the cheekbones and dimples. There was no mistaking they were related.

‘Hi,' Wayne said.

Silence could have shattered every glass pane in the room.

Wayne watched Josha opened his mouth to talk as realisation struck him, but no sound came out. Not even a voice-breaking squeak.

Josha stumbled backwards, the chair catching him in the back of his knees, and he thumped down into it.

Wayne put his hand back by his side.

‘Woah, it's okay, easy, Josha. And that is Jamison,' Gabe said.

Jamison just waved from where he stood.

Wayne frowned. Damn, this wasn't how he'd dreamed of this moment happening. ‘Pleased to meet you,' he said, his voice betraying emotions he tried desperately to keep in check.

Josha sat frozen in the chair. ‘Um.'

‘You scared the kid,' Jamison said looking at him.

‘N—o,' squeaked Josha. ‘Sur—surprised. Not scared. I aways thought I looked like Mum, but now I see some of you in me, just old!'

‘Gee, thanks,' Wayne said.

Gabe chuckled at Josha's choice of words.

‘That's okay. Give it time. Perhaps we both need time. It's a shock for both of us meeting today, I'm sure,' Wayne said. His mind reeling with the shock he'd seen on his son's face.

He didn't know who I was before he spoke to me.

Was it possible she never told him, or was it shock because he didn't want to see Wayne?

He had never anticipated that Tara would have poisoned their son against him … panic swelled in his throat, and he swallowed it hard.

He needed a distraction to diffuse the situation. He needer to get his emotions back under control. Get the kid to talk to him. He stepped away, giving Josha physical space, hoping it would help. He switched tactics.

‘Will Tara sleep for long?' Wayne asked, forcing Josha to focus on his mother instead.

‘She's been sleeping a while already. She always sleeps when she comes back from the beach and her meds kick in. She should be awake in another fifteen minutes or so.'

‘You obviously know her routine well,' Wayne said.

‘It happens when you spend your days at home with her. If she's not at home she's having tests, scans and things,' Josha said, in a voice far too adult for a teenager.

Wayne wondered just how much Josha knew about his mother's tumour. He suspected far too much, but then what reference point did he have to make a judgement like that? He knew nothing of his son's abilities or his maturity, of how his life had been.

He was longing to ask Josha so many questions, but like a wild newborn colt, this long-legged teenager would bolt if pushed, of that he was sure, so he just played it cool instead. Buried the curiosity deep inside and attempted to make friends.

Wayne turned his attention to watching the gulls out the window as they rode the thermals and the winds. ‘A beautiful view you guys have here, peaceful, and great weather,' he said.

‘The weather? You are going to try get a teenager to discuss the weather?' Gabe said. ‘You seriously don't have any clue with kids, do you?'

‘No, I have no idea.' Wayne scratched the back of his head with his hand.

Jamison backed him up. ‘Ebony and I have a five-year-old and a newborn. Wayne won't hold Joy because he says she's too tiny, but in his defence, I have seen him attending tea parties hosted by Blessing. He just hasn't had exposure yet to too many teenagers.'

Wayne laughed then, it was nervous and came out a bit loud, but suddenly Josha was laughing too.

‘It's okay,' Josha said. ‘Uncle Gabe warned me you were coming, but it's all still a bit of a surreal moment.'

Gabe reached over to him and ruffled his hair, the affection between them obvious.

‘So-you-really-are-my-biological-father-as-in-Wayne-Simon-who died-in-the-SADF?' Josha spoke as if the words were bursting inside him and needed to be said.

Wayne was taken aback, and had to process what Josha had said, then he worked it out, and replied, ‘My full name is Wayne Simon Botha, I was in the SADF but I didn't die. And yes, I'm your father.'

Wayne stared at Josha. Damn, Josha didn't look like a clone from when he was that age, but he could hear a younger him talking. A
teenage him, from a time before Tara got pregnant and took Josha from him. Clever, taking his middle name and using that and not his surname. No wonder no one could find her.

But Josha thought that his father was dead.

Eventually, he said, ‘You know, I spent years looking for you, once I knew you were in the world. I searched for Tara before that too. I never stopped.'

Josha nodded.

Then every time the boy opened his mouth to talk, he shut it again, as if the words stuck in his throat, and wouldn't come out past his thick tongue. Wayne knew the feeling.

Josha suddenly asked Jamison, ‘Are you Wayne's bodyguard?'

Wayne smiled at his blunt question.

‘No. Does he look like he needs a bodyguard, kid?' Jamison said. ‘I'm his business partner, but he was adamant that he would fly the chopper down to Durban at first light, and hop a plane to Cape Town. He was worried sick. So I did the only thing a friend could do, and came with him. He was in no state to do much, so I'm just here to make sure he's going to be alright. This is a moment we have waited a long time for.'

‘Neat,' Josha said.

Wayne relaxed a little. ‘And as Jamison mentioned, he has a newborn baby in the house who screams, constantly,' Wayne said. ‘So Jamison was happy to take off for a few days.'

‘That's not true, I don't hear her screaming. Ebony takes good care of the girls all the time. Besides, Joy is a colicky baby, they all sound like that,' Jamison defended his family.