A Kiss of Adventure (18 page)

“She loves him, you know,” Tillie whispered. “I can’t understand it, but she really does love him.”

“I know. That’s why she helped me tonight.”

Tillie drew her head from the curve of Graeme’s neck and looked at him. “Why?”

“She didn’t want him to have you. She believes in love more than she believes in the power of the amulet. She cares about him more than she cares about the treasure. And I’m pretty sure she wanted to see the two of us together, too.”

Tillie nodded. That she could believe. Khatty had been enamored with the idea of Tillie and her black-haired man from the very beginning. Her feelings for their relationship had shown in the poem she had composed for Graeme.

“I think, too, she wanted my God to win out over her husband’s,” she said. “She learned about Christ at a mission school, and she believes he is God’s Son.”

Her heart softening even more toward her Targui ally, Tillie watched the shadows as Khatty seduced her husband away from his anger and toward her love. She was a good woman. But she was correct—it would be hard to live as a Christian in a Tuareg caravan.

“Tillie,” Graeme whispered. “Khatty was right, you know. We do belong together.”

She studied his face and saw he meant what he said.
Lord,
her heart cried yet again.
What do you want me to do? You know how I feel about Graeme . . . and how he feels about you. . . .
Despair welled up within her.
Father, why does it have to be so hard?
She wanted to share her confusion, her struggle, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Instead, she met his eyes and shook her head. “I just wonder how long. This amulet keeps tearing us apart.”

“It brought us together.”

She looked down at her beaded ring. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

He covered her hand with his. “You’re with me from now on. No more heroics, okay?”

“I’ll do what I have to do.”

“Tillie.” He bent over her and let his mouth meet hers in soft kisses, promises of commitment. His lips moved across her cheek, down her neck, then up to the curve of her ear. “Tillie, when you jumped onto the
amenoukal
’s boat the other day . . .”

“He would have killed you.”

“You saved my life.” His voice was a husky whisper no louder than the desert wind blowing outside the tent. “I’ve never known a woman with your strength.”

“Just keep your promise of honor. . . . Always tell me the truth. Be who you said you were.”

“Tillie, I can’t—” He stopped speaking and let out a hot breath. “You can’t know the whole truth about me. I have to—”

A guttural noise nearby stopped his words, and he looked across to the shadows of Khatty and the
amenoukal
. They had moved inside the other chamber and were speaking in low voices.

“I honor you, Tillie.” Graeme lifted Tillie from his lap and stood. “I won’t betray your trust. I swear that.”

He took the brass lantern by its finial and blew out the light. The room fell into nearly total darkness, and he dropped back to his knees, listening for a sign that their absence wouldn’t be noticed.

Tillie sat alone, chilled. She couldn’t know the whole truth about him? What had he meant by that? They were together again, but her heart felt heavier than stone.

Graeme’s hands found the back of her neck, and his fingers slipped through the tangle of braids and silver chains. “We’ve got to get out of this place and head for the truck in Mopti. Come on.”

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. She motioned toward the curtain through which the servants always entered and exited. Together they slipped across the room. Graeme lifted the heavy flap and stepped out to scout the area. In a moment his head popped back inside. “It’s clear. Let’s go.”

Tillie stood in the darkness for a moment, remembering her hours in the tent with Khatty. The Targui woman had become a real friend. Almost like a sister. “Thank you, Khatty,” she whispered into the blackened chamber. “Thank you for believing in love.”

The Tuareg fires were no more than glowing embers when Graeme and Tillie slipped past them and scrambled down the stony embankment to the river. Running hand in hand, they stumbled through reeds and over stubby bushes that caught at their flowing burnouses.

Graeme’s billowing gown impeded his run. But his exhilaration at freeing Tillie and having her beside him again outweighed any concerns.

“Why don’t we take the road?” Tillie whispered. She lost her footing and splashed into the river.

He hauled her back onto the bank. “You’ll see.”

“But what about crocs and hippos?”

“Stick with me. You’ll be all right.” Before long, he pulled her to a stop, waded into the water, and pushed back a thicket of brush that hung over the river. “Here we go. The finest transportation in these here parts.”

“A boat.” Surprised, she watched the tiny dugout drift out into the shallows. “It’s the fisherman’s boat from Djenne. How did you get it here?”

“The guy sold it to me, and I rowed it up the river. That’s how I found the Tuareg camp.”

“You spotted the camp from the river? I don’t see how. The Tuareg made a huge effort to hide their tents and erase every trace of where they’d been.”

“I know. For a while I thought I’d lost you for good. Then this afternoon, after I’d wandered around in Mopti a while, I decided to backtrack the river. That’s when I spotted the glimmer of a fire. It was a miracle.”

“A miracle?” She cocked her head. “Like you had divine help or something? Like the God of the entire universe is with you through every problem, and he’s always there to love you no matter what? That’s something, Graeme. That’s really something.”

At her recitation of his own statements of doubt, he couldn’t hold back a grin. “Hey, it’s making a believer out of me. Ready for a boat ride?”

“It’ll feel like home.”

He reached out to help her into the bobbing dugout. Once she’d settled herself at one end, he pushed them out into the river and then climbed aboard. He paddled hard until he found the midstream current. As the drift took them, he settled back and stretched out his legs with a contented sigh. “Huck and Jim on the river again.”

He watched the emotions play over her features. “How far is Mopti?”

“We’ll see the lights in a few minutes. It’s just around a bend or two.”

“I still can’t believe I got away.”

“Hey, where’s your faith?”

“I almost lost it.”

No.
The unspoken plea rose up inside him.
Don’t let her lose her faith.
Her words from a previous conversation jumped into his mind.
“It’s called faith,”
she had said.
“Believing even though you don’t have proof.”
Tillie had more faith than anyone Graeme had ever met. Her confidence in God had stunned him at first. Then it had moved him. Now it beckoned him.

Keep her strong in her faith. Help her keep on believing. Make her heart strong.
Who was he talking to? God? Strange how comfortable it felt. How right.
Give me faith, God. Help me know how to believe.

He fell silent, watching the water and thinking about the changes in his life. He knew Tillie had been elated to see him. The way her eyes had lit up had been clear evidence of that. But now that they were alone and safe, he noted that her smile had faded. She smoothed the gown over her legs and looked out at the river. “Any word about Hannah and Arthur?”

“No.” He searched her eyes. “You’ve had a lot of time to think in the past couple of days. Still planning to marry Arthur and move to London?”

She twisted the ring on her finger. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m going to do about anything. Ever since that little boy hung the amulet around my neck, I’ve just been trying to survive. Back in Bamako, I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m not sure.”

He knew it was a risk, but he leaned forward to take her hand. “Well, I know who I am, Tillie-girl. I know what I want. And if it’s okay, I plan to stick with you ’til you get things figured out.”

Her warm eyes and smile were more than enough reward. “I’d like that,” she said.

He leaned back again, unwound the turban from his head, and dropped it into his lap. Taking one end, he dipped it into the river. “Now, Miss Tree-Planting Woman, let’s get you back to your normal shade.”

She laughed, and the sound warmed him. “I forgot what Khatty had done. How did you ever recognize me?”

“You were the only blonde Targui in the vicinity.” He lifted her chin and dabbed off the garish paint, while she untangled chains and ribbons from her braids.

“I don’t know how you kept a straight face through that whole charade. Did you hear me mumbling along, trying to think what to say?”

“Cinderella. It was the best version I’d ever heard. I thought it kind of fit. The poor tree-planting woman taken in hand by Khatty, the Targui fairy godmother. Transported in the richest finery to the grand
ahal
.”

“And then swept away by a handsome prince.”

Graeme grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know about that part.” Their glances met, and the look in her eyes sent his pulse pounding.

“I do. You’re my handsome prince.” The light in her eyes flickered, and it was as though a cloud descended. She looked away, and he had to strain to hear her say in a small voice, “I’m just not sure I’m in the right fairy tale.”

When the lights of Mopti swung into view, Tillie saw that the three small islands that comprised the town were clearly visible. The cement bridges connecting them glowed with bright electric lamps.

“I’ve got a friend in Mopti,” Graeme said. “The truck’s at his house. He told me to call from the marketplace, and he’ll come get us.”

“You know a lot of people along this river.”

“Been here awhile.” He lifted his paddle into the boat. “Research.”

She studied his expression in the moonlight. Was he telling the truth this time? Research. Somehow the word sounded artificial.

“Look,” he said, his voice rough. “I need to tell you something. There’s an airfield in Mopti. My friend tells me there’ll be a plane out to Bamako in the afternoon. I can get you on it.”

“A plane?” The idea of leaving the river seemed stranger than the thought of swimming with crocodiles again. This was her chance. She could fly back to the city and be in her PAAC compound by afternoon. She could tell the police about everything. Hand over the amulet. Be done with the whole thing. And then . . . what?

She thought of Arthur. Hannah. Khatty. Graeme.

“Just get us to Mopti,” she told him. “I’ll decide after I’ve put something in my stomach and slept on a decent bed.”

“Better think it over good. We wouldn’t want you to be impulsive now.”

She lifted her head to find a crooked smile softening his features. His dark hair was a little mussed from the turban, and she wanted to run her fingers through it. She longed to touch him, feel his arms around her, know he was real. Could she leave this man? fly away back to her old life? go on as though nothing had happened between them?

Now
that
would take a miracle.

The dugout glided toward the lighted pier, and Graeme maneuvered it into a berth. The sloping cobbled expanse of the deserted marketplace on the main island rose from the riverbank. They docked, tied up the boat, and climbed onto the pier.

Two ancient telephones, wires exposed, hung from a pole at the edge of the market. Graeme lifted a receiver. “This one’s dead.” He picked up the other phone and jiggled the wires. “I’ve got a dial tone. Okay, Robert ol’ pal, where’s your number?”

He reached into the pocket of his blue shirt and pulled out a small leather box the size of a cigarette pack. With one finger he flipped open the lid and riffled through a stack of cards.

“What’s that?” Tillie asked as he found the one he’d been hunting and began to dial. “Your little box. What’s in there?”

“I keep my cards in it. It’s waterproof.”

“What cards?”

“Business cards, notes for my book. I told you about that.”

“You said you kept them in that bag we lost in the river. I thought you were just—”