Authors: Monica McCabe
Cries and shouts of elation built all around them. The night beyond the ring of firelight disappeared as drums sang a beat of celebration and passion. Miranda spun around, laughing up at him in delight, and her smile left him slightly dazed. It was beckoning, teasing, and the promise her lips held drove his imagination wild.
Intending to take her up on that unspoken invitation, he reached out for her but was cut off when the drums suddenly silenced.
Miranda was breathing hard and laughing harder when Matt slid an arm about her waist. He cursed the fact they were surrounded by people and would give a week’s salary to get her alone. His hold tightened around her, but she spun out of his arms to face him, then began walking backward.
“How incredibly wonderful!” Her eyes sparkled and excitement flushed her cheeks pink. “How invigorating!”
Her skin had a fine sheen of moisture from their exertion, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest fired his already inflamed nerves. He had an overwhelming desire to kiss her. More than that, he wanted to dribble
mampoer
into that belly button of hers and lick every drop from—
“I had no idea you were so light on your feet!” She twirled back around when they reached the spot they’d left their drinks and grabbed hers. This time she took a thirsty swig without so much as a blink.
He had news for her. Surprise was mutual. He’d no idea she could move like that. Sexy didn’t begin to describe it. He needed to cool down and gather his wits.
“Oh, my.” Her hand rubbed her forehead. “Suddenly, I’m a bit light-headed.”
“When did you eat last?”
“Um, it’s been a while since lunch.”
Not good. Tribal hooch on an empty stomach was a recipe for disaster. He wanted her chatty, not comatose. “Lucky for you it’s dinner time.” He waved his arm toward the lavish banquet spread out for the revelers to enjoy. “
Karamu
awaits.”
Torches framed several rough wooden tables in a semi-circle. They were laden with sizzling meats and roasted vegetables, a variety of desserts and a mouth-watering aroma that beckoned.
“There’s so much,” Miranda exclaimed. “Where do we start?”
Matt pulled a pumpkin fritter from the stack and handed it to her. “Formality here in the bush is slim. Food isn’t served. You dig right in at the table.”
She hesitated and glanced down the length of the banquet. Others were sampling as they stood, confirming his claim.
“When in Rome…” With a shrug, she took a bite and closed her eyes on a sigh.
“Like it?”
“Heaven,” she mumbled around another mouthful.
“Try this,” he said and selected a small slice of roasted cassava to pop into her mouth. Her groan of delight raised his heat level another notch. If this kept up, it was going to be a long, hot night.
But what the hell, things had been too cold for too long, anyhow. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time he’d enjoyed a woman’s company more. He shouldn’t, knew better with everything involved, but for some reason he didn’t care. He was having too much fun helping her experiment with the different foods.
She didn’t like the taste of wildebeest, but then he didn’t either. The
braai
she loved, along with the accompanying spicy relish,
chakalaka
. There were meatballs made from tomato, onion, and minced beef, succulent steamed manioc and plantain, fire-grilled squash and sweet potato. He followed it up with several desserts and washed it all down with village brew.
“Satisfied?” he asked as Miranda licked the last crumbs from her fingers.
“Mmm.” She gave a soft little hiccup. “I can’t remember a meal I enjoyed more.”
He agreed completely.
“Matthew!” Bakka slapped him on the back with gusto. “Happy to see my childhood brother.”
Matt grabbed his friend’s hand for a shake, then pulled him into a hug. “We are older good buddy, but haven’t changed much since the days we learned to track the Kalahari.”
Bakka’s grin stretched wide. “You still cannot find elephant trail on clear day.”
“Maybe not, but I can outfox you any day of the week!”
They shared a good-natured laugh, and Matt pulled Miranda up beside him. “Meet Miranda Parrish, a fearless animal doctor visiting Katanga in Gaborone. She’s even brave enough to venture out with me after dark.”
“Yes, well, he promised me dinner,” Miranda said. “I could hardly refuse. Congratulations on your wedding.”
“Zuli and I glad to share day with many family and friends.” Bakka fairly beamed with pride in his new status, and his eyes strayed to where his wife held court with the women of the tribe.
A tiny stab of envy pierced Matt’s armor. Tonight his life-long friend found not only happiness but cemented a well-earned standing in his tribe. Bakka cherished honor and would make a good husband and father.
A few moments later, they parted company.
“Tell me,” Miranda asked, “how is it so many here speak English?”
He led her back to the feast so they could replenish their gourds with more hooch. “It’s a necessary second language for those working outside the village. The old ways still prevail, but needless to say, a steady source of income makes life easier. Katomi’s village is close to Molepolole. His tribe’s survival depends on blending old ways with new.”
“That’s sad in a way.”
“Maybe, but Africa is slowly changing. There are still countless places with little modern influence, but here, younger village members are going to school, and Katomi’s community will prosper because of it.”
Miranda held the gourds as Matt lifted a heavy canteen of liquor and filled them. “Bakka and Zuli,” she asked, “they work outside the village?”
He set the canteen back on the table and replaced the stoppers on the gourds. “Bakka is a diamond cutter and good, too. Zuli polishes the stones and cleans the facility.”
Miranda took a thirsty sip of her
mampoer
, then gave him a playful grin. “This stuff is growing on me.” She held up her gourd and sloshed the contents. “I could get used to it.”
“It’s an excellent cure for the blues. Until you have too much, that is. Then it pounds in your head worse than a jackhammer.”
“Sounds like words of experience.”
“Me? Nah.” He winked at her. “Strictly hearsay.”
She responded with a disbelieving roll of her eyes. “I’ve one question.”
“Just one?” He quirked a brow. “Are you ill?”
“Funny.” She pushed her hair off her shoulder and looked around them. “Where does a girl go to…ahhh…take care of nature’s call?”
He grinned and swept his hand out to the darkness beyond the bonfire’s light. “Anywhere you like, though I’d suggest beyond that far rock outcropping.”
She glanced in the direction he pointed and shrugged. Then handed over her
mampoer
. “Hold this please. I’ll be right back.”
“Oh no, you don’t. I’m coming with you.”
“You most certainly are not!”
“I most certainly am. A tipsy zoo dentist would be a tasty bedtime snack for a lion.”
“I’m not tasty!” She tilted her head and frowned. “Wait a minute. I mean I’m not tipsy. I’m a trained professional. I can handle myself in the wild.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’m still coming with you.”
“Fine.” She gave him a defiant glare. “But you’re keeping your distance.”
“Whatever you say.”
She marched off, and he sighed.
With a shake of his head, he caught up to her and grabbed her shoulder, changing her direction. “It’s this way.”
“Oh.” She squinted at the darkness. “Maybe you should lead the way.”
“Excellent suggestion.”
They left behind the noise of the wedding party and crossed to the backside of the lakebed where a mix of towering boulders and rocky platforms jutted up from the sand. He led Miranda around behind where the darkness grew more solitary. Ambient moonlight reflected off the bleached gray stones, illuminating the grounds enough for a quick search.
They were alone. No man or beast disturbed their privacy.
Satisfied, he turned to Miranda. “Don’t move from this spot and call me when you’re through. I’ll be right around that outcropping.”
“Yessir.”
He didn’t feel reassured by that silly grin of hers. Leaving her alone, even for a minute, made him nervous. “Make it fast. The lions are restless.”
He headed out into the desert to quickly take care of his own business, then returned to the rock and waited. He had to admit he was impressed with her. Most women he knew wouldn’t eat with their fingers, drink harsh tribal liquor, or pee in the wilderness. Yet she did, and more importantly, she handled it with aplomb. She had seemed to truly enjoy each experience. From the wedding dance to
karamu
, she had soaked it up like a sponge.
Where was she? Had it been five minutes? “Miranda?”
No response. Modesty be hanged. He was going to check up on her. He’d only taken three steps when she rounded the giant rock all smiles and laughter.
“All done and still in one piece! Not even a nibble.”
He exhaled on a twinge of relief.
“Were you worried about me?”
“Come on,” he said a tad gruffly, “I want to show you something.”
“What? Out here?” Her eyes grew round in mock dismay. “In the dark and dangerous wilderness?”
“It’s your lucky night,” he said as he lifted their gourds from a rock shelf. “I’m on familiar ground.”
He handed over her drink and dropped his arm about her waist. He steered her back the way they’d come until they reached an open crevice in a sentinel boulder. “Up there.” He pointed through the rock.
She glanced up, then back to her skirt and sandals. “Umm, I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion.”
“Don’t be a girl. Come on, I’ll help you up.”
She sputtered and began to protest, but he lifted her up onto the first small boulder, then gave her derriere a small shove.
He got a disgruntled squawk for the effort and laughed as he climbed up beside her. “It gets easier from here.”
They threaded through a maze of high boulders, one or two small animal lairs, and intrepid plants whose roots dug into sand-filled crevices. Suddenly, it opened up to a huge flat rock that sat above the edge of the Kalahari like a stage. He aimed straight to the center and sat, patting a spot beside him.
It was all the invitation she needed. She settled next to him and lifted her gourd for a drink, sighing once her thirst was quenched. “My, this stuff’s good. I’m going to miss it when I go back home.”
A sharp bite of disappointment speared him. He didn’t want to think of her going home or anywhere else and drank deep to numb the disturbing notion. Right now, she was with him, and that was all that mattered.
A warm night breeze carried the distant beat of drums, along with the muffled noise and laughter of the wedding party. But from this side of the outcropping, they were alone in the darkness.
“So, this is what you wanted me to see?” She softly hiccupped. “It’s a lovely spot.”
“Look up, Miranda.”
She did and gasped in astonishment. “Oh, my! I’ve never seen so many stars!”
“Amazing, isn’t it? I used to come here as a child and try to count them all.”
Leaning back on both hands, she aimed her gaze heavenward. “It makes my head spin.”
He looked at her askance. “Are you sure it’s not Katomi’s liquor? It sneaks up on you.”
“Maybe.” She sat forward with a soft laugh and brushed sand off her hands. “Do you realize how lucky we are?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Neither of us had a conventional upbringing.” She curled her legs up beside her and leaned toward him on one hand. “We are fortunate, you and I.” She poked him in the chest with her finger, and his skin tingled from her touch. “We’ve experienced things normal children in normal families would not.”
Something he never considered a good quality. “Sometimes that experience comes with a price. One that, given a choice, you wouldn’t pay.”
“Meaning the loss of your parents.”
He gazed up at the stars and saw his parents as they once were—happy and full of life, their energy for helping others endless. “They’d be alive today if we lived that normal life.”
“Don’t do that.” She reached across and brushed his cheek with her fingertips before tracing the line of his jaw and dropping away. “It was their choice. Can you honestly see them doing anything else? See living your own life any differently?”
His gut clenched at the impact of her words. Or maybe it was the effect of her touch. Either way, she’d made her point. Despite a long-standing wish otherwise, he couldn’t envision life any other way.
He lifted his gourd. “A toast then. To the unconventional.”
She laughed and reached for her drink. Lifting it high, the gourds made a hollow
thunk
as they knocked them together and drank.
“Tell me more about your life growing up.”
She seemed genuinely interested and, for some reason, that surprised him. Most people steered away from personal details, or maybe it was him that kept the distance. Why things felt different with Miranda, he couldn’t begin to fathom.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“How old were you when you came to Africa?”
He thought back. “Eight, I think. I was about ten when we arrived in this village. My parents were the first missionaries to bring them modern medicine, and we lived among them for over three years. Now and then we’d visit other villages, but we stayed here longer than any other place.”
“What was it like growing up here?” She hiccupped but still managed to sound intrigued.
“Liberating, but I didn’t know it at the time.” Memories crowded in, and for once, he let them. “I learned to track game, throw a spear, and read signs in the land. I ate native foods, helped build thatch huts, and did just about anything any African child was expected to do.”
“Incredible.”
He glanced her way and swore she appeared envious. He wasn’t used to that kind of reaction to his life.
“How about school?” She took another sip and brushed the back of her hand across her chin. “Were you able to keep traditional grade levels?”
“Not in the strictest sense.” Matt matched her drink with a long one of his own. Liquid courage to face memories long shoved aside. “My mother was a teacher and made sure my studies weren’t neglected. Not an easy task considering my penchant to roam. Her persistence paid off, though. When I had to go live in Arizona, I tested much higher than the ninth grade they forced me to enter.”