Vain (25 page)

I heard a soft knock at the door and opened it to Ian. I got to see his legs for the first time since I’d met him and couldn’t believe a man’s calves could be that developed. I stood gape mouthed like a buffoon staring at them.

When I finally caught myself, my gaze raised to Ian’s face and I was shocked to find he was equally as engrossed as I was. My laugh startled him and he shook his head.

His mouth worked a bit and he swallowed. “You-you ready?”

“Yes,” I told him.

Karina took Charles’ truck and we took the jeep and filled them both with the smaller children. The older kids would walk the quarter mile to the swimming hole with Katie and Charles.
Mandisa moved to sit on my lap immediately, and I let her, kissing the top of her head as Ian started the engine.

When we unloaded the last of the jeep and truck and the kids started running for the water, I impulsively raised my face and hands, palms up and let the rays of the
sun wash over me. It was bright and warm and felt so good against my skin. I sighed. There was just something about the sun. I drank its heat deep and breathed easily, closing my eyes and wondering to myself why I never really saw it for what it was before I'd come to Uganda.

I'd discovered that the
sun equated happiness. Its bright and lovely existence was hope incarnate. It exposed the dark, brought forth the light and showed you that no matter how strong or oppressive the night was, that it was infinitely stronger, exponentially more substantial and just because you couldn't see it with your eyes, didn't mean it wasn't still with you, that you couldn't feel it or that it wouldn't come back for you. It was stalwart and constant. It was infinite.

I followed the sound of boisterous laughter to the water’s edge.

“We’re going to keep the smaller ones here on the shallower edge,” Ian told me.

“That’s fine with me.”

He raised his left hand and placed his palm on the back of my neck, sending a tight heat barreling through my body only for it to settle in my belly. I smiled at him. He flirtatiously smiled back and I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. He squeezed a little bit and dropped his hand. I felt a little sad for the brief moment his skin had touched mine. It never seemed long enough. It was incredible to me that I felt that way.

Every time I’d ever let a boy touch my body felt suddenly wrong, suddenly heavy on the heart and soul and I found myself regretting my past life. I’d never
really felt that before. I steeled myself against the guilt though, knowing how sorry I was for it. I stood taller, lighter, knowing that although the grief of regret laid heavily on my heart, it didn’t mean I couldn’t move forward, that God wouldn’t forgive me. It also meant that I could forgive myself, especially since I then knew
exactly
what it meant to be treated with respect. And
that
was a heady, heavy feeling of euphoria.

A few minutes passed and the older children joined in the raucous. I’d never seen such purely happy people in my entire life. They screamed with joy, jumped and dived, splashed and played with one another. They had this moment and they were ecstatic. They had this simple joy and it was free. Another something I never thought possible. To me, the only time I’d ever convinced myself I was happy was when I could whip out my credit card and charge it.

I’d come to Uganda to fulfill a mandatory sentence but was being fulfilled in a completely unexpected manner and happily, with my full consent. I’d come to help teach these children but instead they were teaching me.

“What are you thinking about?” Ian asked me, his eyes roaming the water’s edge and his mouth silently counting heads.

“Nothing,” I lied.

“That’s an untruth,” he teased,
glancing my direction and prodding his shoulder with mine.

“Fine, if you have to know,” I happily pushed back, glad for the brief contact. “I’m thinking that I’m very happy I came to this place.”

His eyes widened briefly and he studied me intently. “What brought on this revelation?”

“Them,” I said, pointing to the boisterous laughing orphans sloshing about.

“And why, Sophie Price, have they made you so happy, do you think?”

“They are funny little representatives of simplicity, of awareness. No one is more aware of themselves as these children are. They have nothing, have no one but
us, have seemingly no reason to be hopeful...yet they are. They choose to be happy even though the obviously easier choice would be to be frightened or sad and they have real reason to be those things as well. But they have life and faith and hope and love and they choose those things. Their innocence is addicting, their hope is catching and I’m happy to be surrounded by them.”

Ian didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge what I’d told him. Instead, he looked at me.
Really
looked
at me. It was a deep, penetrating stare, one that a few months before would have left me quaking in my metaphorical boots but not then. Then, I found myself opening the window further for him. I leaned over the ledge and reached my hands out to him to bring him even closer. I was inviting him to see me as I was because I was no longer ashamed. I’d tossed the heavy, bleak curtains, removed the grime coating the view and opened myself up.

His tense shoulders relaxed and finally he nodded but only once. We both turned back toward the water and did our jobs.

Three hours later and the kids were exhausted and starving. We loaded everyone up again, half of our jeep was already full of sleeping children and I couldn’t help but laugh a little at how adorable I found that. Ian and I jumped into the front seats and started the engine but Charles unexpectedly ran up to Ian’s window.

“Karina and I thought you two may want an afternoon break?” he asked. “I could drive the jeep back and you two could stay and swim for a while, as long as you’re okay with walking back.”

“Seriously?” I asked Charles.

“Don’t act so surprised, Sophie. You and Din have done a lot the past few days. Everyone needs a little break now and then.”
 

CHAPTER NINETEEN
 

We watched the dust from the trucks settle as the jeeps bumbled through the dusty field and toward Masego. My heart leapt in my chest instantly knowing Ian and I were alone for, really, the first time. There would be no children ready to jump out from corners or Masego adults with their watchful eyes, memorizing our every move.
“We’re alone,” Ian whispered, startling me.
I turned toward him, my lids feeling a bit too heavy from the heat of the sun. Or was it the heat of his stare?
“Very,” was all I could muster.
Ian’s eyes traveled from my face down my neck and over my shoulder, the searing fiery gaze branded as it trickled over my skin and soon his hand found that very neck, shoulder and arm until it wrapped itself around my own hand. He brought me closer to him and whispered in my ear.

“Run,” he said quietly before a slow-burning grin split him from ear to ear.

My heart leapt into my throat when I took in the sparkle in his eyes. He winked once, as if in slow motion, and that was my cue. I took off running toward the water, my lungs pumping air in and out of my chest as I hurdled plant life and rock. The only sounds I could hear were the rhythmic pounding of blood in my eardrums on beat with each drop of Ian’s boots behind me. Adrenaline raced through me knowing he was so near. He seemed to be getting closer and I couldn’t fight the grin spreading slowly across my face in anticipation.

A slight giggle escaped my lips imagining the prospect of what was to come. I caught the sound of Ian’s breath hitching before I felt him move even faster, his heat giving away just how nearby he was.

A burst of laughter fell from me when his hands scooped me up around the waist, dragging me to him. His arms enveloped my entire body when he knew he had me, his hands wrapped my shoulders and we tumbled to the ground just short of the water. We were both laughing hysterically despite the fact we were sides deep in mud.
“You almost made it,” he teased in my neck.
“I slowed on purpose,” I lied.
He laughed loudly.

“Liar.”

My wide smile met his.

He stood and dragged me up with him. “Care to join me?” he asked, t
oeing his shoes off.
I gulped.

“Turn around.”

He stopped mid-bend to remove his shoe and studied me. “Whatever for?”

“I-I only had this bikini thing I’d brought from home and I-uh-I’m not exactly decent
, but I don’t want to get this t-shirt wet.”

“You can’t be serious, Soph.”

“Deadly,” I teased.

“You do know this
water is fairly clear, right?”

“Not that clear, Ian.”

He did that thing boys do where they pull their shirts over their heads with one swoop. I felt drunk with too much eye consumption. My stare roamed his incredibly chest and stomach and my mouth gaped. I tucked my tongue back into my mouth and bit my lip to keep it from falling back out. He winked and I laughed out loud.

“You’re ridiculous,” I told him, setting up my little iPod station and turning up the volume to
American Daydream
by Electric Guest.

“Your turn,” he teased.

“No, no, no, Ian. Go ahead and put your fine self in that water.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek before diving in quickly. His head bobbed up, water sluicing down his neck and shoulders, his wet hair dark as night. Butterflies swarmed.

“Stay
facing that way, “ I told him.

He visibly sighed but kept his back toward me. I bent to remove my shoes and shimmied from my shorts and t-shirt. My arms instinctively covered my stomach knowing what Karina would say
if she saw me in that moment.

“Hurry up!” Ian yelled.

“I am! I am!” I smiled.
I toed the water and hissed at how cold it was. I hated that part. I edged my way in, cringing with every step until my body became accustomed to the temperature just as Agnes Obel’s
Avenue
began to play.

When I was shoulder deep, I called out to him. “Okay, you can turn now.”

He turned and smiled. “It was a futile effort, you know?” he said, stalking me slowly.

“What was?” I asked, backing up as he edged my direction.

“Making me turn. It was a pointless effort,” he said, closing in.

“How’s that?”
I asked, gulping down a giddy giggle.

“Because,” he said, rushing me playfully and wrapping his hands around my waist. My hands rested on his wet shoulders. “
Tsk, tsk, Miss Price, skin to skin. What would Karina say?”

I pushed at his chest. “
Ian
.”

“I’m only playing.” He ran his hands up my back and settled them on my neck. “There. Comfortable?”

I jokingly pushed him a little in answer.

It got quiet for a moment. He reached both hands up and ran them over the top of my head and gathered the rest of my hair, twisting it in a fist at the back of my neck. “I’m going home,” he told my brow.

My heart dropped.
“
What
?” I asked, suddenly confused, my stomach mixing space with my heart.
“My brother Simon wrote me last week asking if I’d come home for a two-day visit. It seems he has something to tell me and he’d prefer to do it in person.”
“Oh, I-I-I mean, that’s-that’s great, Ian. When do you leave?” I asked, swallowing back my uneasiness.
I didn’t want him to go. I realized in that moment that I equated Ian with security. The idea of him gone made my chest press and feel tight.

“Day after tomorrow,” he told me, running his thumbs across my forehead and down my cheeks.

“So-so soon?” I gulped.

“I realize
it’s short notice and all...”

“It’s okay.”

“But I was wondering if, maybe, you might be interested in going with?”

My eyes shot open.
“Seriously?”

He smiled.
“Seriously. It’s only two days. Karina already said yes. She’ll keep that out of the report she is sending back with you for court,” he winked.