Chai Tea Sunday (25 page)

“And do you? Feel happy now?” I asked.

“I'm not happy yet, but I'm certainly more at ease. And I've learned to cope. How to deal with all of the emotions that hijacked me for so long.”

I kept listening.

“Once I was able to sift through what I was feeling, when I started to make sense of it all, or at least some of it, I realized that, no matter what else, I can't live without you. Not for one more minute.” Eric glanced up then, and looked straight into my eyes. “I love you, Nicky. More than you'll ever know. And I'm ready to fight for what we had. For what I know we can have again. I know it will take time, but I've got all the time in the world, and want to do nothing more than prove to you how much I love you. To show you how much I believe we belong together.”

“And what about when you need to run back to work? What if there's another case that desperately needs your attention?” My voice was lined with sarcasm I wished I could take back the moment the words crossed my lips.

“That won't happen. I quit my job . . . so I could come here and find you. ”

“You quit? Your job?”

“Yes, I did. Do you remember the McDonnel case?”

I nodded. How could I forget? Eric and a team of about ten other lawyers had been working on it since before we sold our house.

“Well, it goes to trial next week. So, as always, there is a vacation blackout period for all the lawyers who are involved. I pled my case, asking for an exception, because I knew I had to come and find you, but the firm told me I couldn't travel. So I had no choice but to quit.”

The words were still not sinking in. “You quit? You really quit your job?”

“I really quit my job. Feels pretty good, actually. No more strings. No more stress.” Eric grinned, somehow managing to still tickle my insides with the flutters I hadn't experienced in a very long time. It felt good. Eric continued, “This guy named Jack — he's one of the dads I've become friends with in my bereavement group — well, he really showed me that I needed to do this. That I needed to come here and fight for you. And for us.”

I nodded again, taking in all that Eric was saying.

“Jack went through something similar to what we did. Except it was his second child. The baby, Mason, was born at twenty-six weeks and only survived for three days. Jack and his wife, Carol, didn't make it past three months. They separated quickly and were divorced a year and a half later. Unfortunately, Jack realized too late that he and Carol had made a huge mistake getting divorced and, by the time he could tell Carol how he felt, she was already engaged to another man.”

I was speechless, still in shock that Eric was sitting in front of me. And somehow he was saying so many of the things I'd longed to hear from him for so long.

“That's why I knew I needed to come now,” Eric said. “That I had to quit my job and do whatever else was needed to get you back. And I pray to God that I'm not too late. I love you, Nicky, and I'll do whatever it takes to show you. To prove it to you. I will commit the rest of my life to making you believe this.”

Eric searched my eyes and, surprisingly, I fought the urge to run away. To turn on my heel and bolt, just as Eric had done to me. Ironically, after waiting so long for Eric to actually speak with me and tell me how he was feeling, I wanted to flee the conversation. I didn't want to abandon him, just as he had done to me, but I didn't know what to say. And I didn't know what to feel.

Picking up on my hesitation, Eric kept going. “I know I'm very late in telling you all of this, Nicky. I know you needed to have had this conversation a very long time ago. To grieve with me and to deal with everything that had happened. Together.”

I nodded, fighting tears.

“You might not believe this, but even back then, I really wanted to talk about everything with you. Believe me, I did. And I tried. On most mornings, I would wake up and promise myself that I was going to sit you down, just so we could talk, and sometimes I would try, but it was like a knife was being sliced through my heart every time we started talking about it.”

He looked down, took a deep breath and cleared his throat again. I knew Eric well enough to sense that he was fighting his own tears.

“My God, I miss Ella so much, Nic. I loved her more than I knew was possible. I loved her more than life, and I would have done anything to save her, and somehow we only got to spend an hour with her. How is that fair? How is it right?”

“I don't know, Eric. I ask myself that every day,” I responded quietly.

“And what I did to
you
? It's unimaginable. To be honest, I wouldn't blame you if you felt it was unforgiveable too. I know now that I abandoned you at the worst moment of your life, when you needed me the most. And I'm so, so very sorry for that. I wish you could know how much. I hate myself for not being there for you. I love you, Nic. I love you more than anything and I don't know how to go on without you. I'm lost without you and I don't know how to live from day to day without you in my life.” Eric's words came spilling out, bubbling up in his throat and, eventually, turning into sobs that yanked at my heartstrings. The tall, silent man who had stood like a stone in front of me for so many months buried his head into his hands and, finally, wept. It was the first time I had seen Eric cry since Ella's death.

I sat down next to him and pulled him into my arms. No matter what had happened, or what would happen in the future, I couldn't bear to watch Eric grieve so intensely and not try to provide some sense of comfort.

Like a baby, Eric curled into me, folding himself into my embrace, and put his cheek next to mine. Our tears mixed, joining together before they fell into our laps, and we sat side by side, linked together in a tight embrace, grieving as one, and mourning the daughter — and the life — we both had lost.

“Mama Bu?” I called out, walking into the small host home that I had become so comfortable in. I was desperate to speak with her. After Eric and I had spent a long time together on the porch, I left him, saying that I just needed to think.

When I went back into the orphanage to find Mama Bu, Johanna had told me she slipped out the back door to return home to begin her daily chores. Mama Bu knew I would find her when I was ready to talk.

“I am here, Nicky,” Mama Bu answered, walking into the living room. She had been scrubbing the kitchen and was wearing a faded orange apron with blue ties around her neck and waist. Her hair was pulled back with her favourite red hair band.

“It's Eric. I just don't know what to think about everything. He came to Africa. To find me. And to tell me that he loves me, and that he wants to get back together.”

“I was wondering as much,” Mama Bu responded, turning away before she sat down on her favourite couch. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or not, but it almost seemed as though she was trying to conceal a smile. “And how do you feel about that, chicka?”

“I don't know. Confused, really. I love Eric and, really, I want to be with him too, but I don't know how to do that anymore.”

“Did you tell him all of this?”

“I did, and I also told him that I couldn't go back with him because I had made the decision to stay here and be the orphanage director. I told him that I'd given a commitment to you, and to the kids at the orphanage, and that I couldn't go back on my word when the kids needed me the most.”

“And what did Eric say?” Mama Bu prompted.

“He said that he would move to Africa. That he would stay here. To help me, and to be with me. He said he would do whatever was needed to make us work.”

“I see.”

“I don't know though . . . I just don't think that will work. I can't imagine us both here, together.”

“First,
rafiki,
I think you must realize what is in your heart. Decide on what you want. Everything else — whether he lives here or you live there — that can be figured out later.”

“But how do I do that, Mama Bu? How do I figure that out? How do I know?”

“I cannot tell you what to do or what the answer is. But I will tell you that you already know what it is. Your answer is buried deep within your soul and I am quite certain that you will find it. You will know what is right for you. All you need to do is open your heart to the answer and it will be there. It is waiting for you to realize what it is. To figure out your truth and find your destiny.”

“I don't know, Mama Bu.”

“I think you should go for a long walk,
rafiki
. Go into Ngong town. Or just walk to whatever spot your path leads you. Go on. Walk, and clear your head, and find your answer. It is there, waiting, I promise you.”

I accepted Mama Bu's advice and gave her a hug before I headed out. I walked past Barika's house and, before I knew it, was headed to the market. I wanted to clear my head, yes, but I actually needed busyness. Noise. Chaos.

I walked the hectic aisles, looking past the people around me and, on occasion, accidentally running into them. My mind was far away. A man wearing a hat bumped into me. “
Poleni
,” he said. Sorry. I snapped my attention back to all that was around me.

I stopped to hold a ripe red tomato and purchased some bobby beans to contribute to the kids' dinner that night. I bought a banana for my breakfast, but then realized I wasn't hungry. I tossed it in my backpack.

I kept walking through the market. Watched Kenyans shake hands and greet each other good morning. A skinny man with a shaved head called out to a friend buying cinnamon and slapped his back in a friendly salute when he met up with him. His friend responded by putting his arm around the skinny man's neck and pulling him in for a tight hug.

I found a large rock. I sat, not sure what I was waiting for, but also not knowing where else I could go.

After a while, two small children appeared from nowhere and jumped into a leftover puddle from the rain that had fallen a few days before. Once the rain had started, it hadn't stopped, bringing on the wet season and relief to all of Kenya. The children, one of whom seemed to be just younger than two and the other about five, splashed each other with the water, their clothes soon soaked. Within moments, the children surrendered to being wet and sat directly in the middle of the puddle, still splashing each other over and over as their hands hit its surface.

Their laughter rang out loud. I wanted to smile, as so many people would, but the sound actually hurt my ears, reminding me of what I no longer had.

The younger child stood up from the puddle. She took off her pants and threw them aside. Once free, the little girl danced in the puddle, jumping up and down, her diaperless bum soaking up the sunshine.

I wondered where their mother was. How she could leave two young children alone, by themselves, where anything could happen to them?

Sometime later — I can't be totally sure about how long I sat there watching — the mother found her children. She was a young woman, no older than twenty-five. She wagged her finger, lightly scolding them for getting so wet in the puddle. She lifted the toddler into her arms and lightly kissed her on the nose.

It was such a simple maternal gesture and it yet hurt my heart because at that precise moment I realized the toddler was about the same age that Ella would have been.

The mother wrung out the toddler's soaking wet pants and placed them in the sisal handbag she was carrying. She removed a clean cloth and rubbed her children's faces, wiping them free of the mud splatter that had clung to their faces as they had jumped and splashed.

Still holding the youngest on her hip, the mother took her five-year-old child by the hand and the threesome walked away, leaving me, and the now-still puddle, once again alone.

When my legs grew cramped from sitting too long, I rose and walked back through the market. I entered one of the middle rows and almost walked directly into a small woman carrying her baby on her hip in bright red material tied around her waist and in a large knot thrown over one of her shoulders. She had an oversized basket on her head, bursting with breads and vegetables. With the stacked gold bangles around her wrist, and the bright beads she wore everywhere, I recognized her as Maasai.

In our near collision, the woman smiled. “
Samahani,
” she said. Excuse me. I returned the smile and kept walking, turning back to look at her baby. He had large eyes that peeked over the red cloth, his hair just starting to come in. In my time in Kenya, I had learned a lot about the Maasai people, and knew the baby's hair would soon be shaved, representing a fresh start that would be made as the baby passed into another one of life's chapters.

“Neeecky? Neeecky!” A familiar voice called to me, yet I couldn't place it. I looked around and saw Moses, energetically waving at me from behind his food stall. I dropped the mango I had been holding at a competitor's stand and crossed the aisle to greet him.

“Where Bu at?” he asked.

“She's at home, tending to her chores. I'm just taking a walk. I needed a bit of a break.”

“Well, I glad to see you. I have something for you. I found it after you left that day. It must have fall out of your pocket. I sorry not to give it back more soon. I thought I see you here sooner. Was going to bring it to Bu's, but I work so much. Every day!” Moses walked behind his food stall and pulled something from the portable safe he kept his money in. Holding it up to the sunlight, diamonds danced. Moses had found my cross necklace. He'd had it the entire time.

From out of nowhere, bubbled-up sobs came pouring out of me. Moses didn't know what to do, so he awkwardly handed the necklace over and apologized again for not returning it sooner. I thanked him repeatedly before running as fast as I could back to the orphanage.

“Eric? Eric! Are you here?” I ran into the orphanage and searched frantically to find him. I had found my answer. I knew what to do.

I flew into the common room and found a handful of kids playing jacks. “Do you know where Johanna is?”

The kids shook their heads. “No,
Mwalimu
Nicky.”

I flew into the kitchen, hoping to find Eric having something to eat, or maybe even helping to fix the faucet I knew was broken. He wasn't there.

“Johanna?!
Eric?
Where are you?” As I called their names, I heard my voice becoming more and more desperate.

Silence.

I ran back to the front hall and noticed that my packed suitcases and duffle bags were still at the front door.

I flew outside and into the field, where groups of children were taking part in the circle games that we had spent so many hours playing together.

“Nadia! Have you seen Johanna? Or the man I was talking to on the porch earlier?”

“Johanna is upstairs lying down. I think that man is in the schoolroom.”

I thanked her and ran to the school, flying through its door to find Eric sitting at my desk.

“I hope it's okay that I'm here,” Eric looked a bit sheepish, almost apologetic, as though he had intruded on a private part of my life. “Johanna brought me here and told me I could stay as long as I wanted. I didn't really know where else to go.”

“No, no . . . it's okay.” I took a few steps towards him. I stood beside one of the student's chairs, immediately across from him. He rose to greet me.

“You've done a lot in this classroom,” Eric started, complimenting my efforts of the past couple of months. He took a few steps towards me, bridging the gap even more. “Johanna was really excited to show me everything you've done for the kids — the learning stations, the art on the walls, the reading progress charts. It's obvious how much you care, Nic. You should be really proud.” His cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “I know I am.”

“Thank you,” I replied simply. “It's been challenging. But let's talk about that later.” I took a few more steps and stood directly in front of him. “For now, I just want to talk about us. About everything you said before.” I paused and looked directly into his deep blue eyes. “I know how painful it was to lose Ella. How much it hurt. And how, even a year and a half later, the ache hasn't gone away, and I don't know if it will
ever
totally go away.”

Eric looked down. I took his hand and waited until he looked back up and our eyes were locked.

“And I also know you would never do anything to deliberately hurt me, just as I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. In our grief, we both did things we shouldn't have. We both acted out because we were trying to deal with our pain in the only way we knew how. The sadness we both felt and the heartache we were both going through, it's the kind that reaches down to the bottom of your soul. And it hit us in different ways, so we responded in different ways . . . and I think that made us treat each other in a way we shouldn't have.”

Eric nodded and we both remembered things that had been said, which I knew we desperately wanted to take back.

Squeezing his hand, I continued, “I think, in a lot of ways, we took our pain out on each other. And I'm so very sorry that I did that. I'm sorry for all that has happened and for pushing you to talk when you weren't ready. I was just hurting so much. I didn't know how to cope either . . . but I never wanted to add to your hurt in any way. You are the love of my life and I want to spend the rest of my days showing you that. I want to be with you. I need to be with you because I love you.”

Eric dropped my hand, grabbing me around my waist and effortlessly lifting me in a tight embrace. I buried my head in his shoulder. We still fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Two people, meant to be together. I breathed in the moment and found the home I had been looking for.

“You know, Nic, I had an idea while I was admiring all of your work in here . . .” Eric and I were still sitting in the empty classroom, clinging to each other after so many months apart.

“Oh yeah? What's that?” I looked up, grinning into the familiar eyes that I had missed for so long.

“Well, as you know already, it just so happens that I don't have a job, so I have all the time in the world. I'll stay here with you, Nic, for as long as you want me to. And we'll find the right person, or people, for the orphanage director role.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.” I had filled Eric in on everything that had happened, and he knew how important it was for us to find the right person to look after the children.

“And if it ends up that we're the right people, then we'll stay. But if you decide you want to go back to Canada . . . well, I think there's still a way we can help.”

“How's that?”

“We can start a foundation. Back home. We'll educate people on the need to help and raise money for Africa. We'll donate the proceeds from monies raised directly to helping the kids at Kidaai. We'll make sure the orphanage has the funds it needs to operate efficiently. The kids will have all the food and milk and clothes they need.”

I listened, intrigued by the idea.

Eric continued, “And we'll make sure they all get an education. We'll hire an amazing orphanage director and an equally great teacher and buy all of the school supplies they need. We can come back and visit as much as you'd like . . . so we can hand deliver some of the things the kids need.” Eric grinned, then continued. “It would be your foundation. And you can run it however you'd like, although I'm hoping the first thing you'll want to do is hire a really great lawyer. I know of one, you know. He's got some great experience working on Bay Street and I know you can get him for a really cheap salary.”

I returned the grin, and pulled Eric in for another hug, grateful to have the husband I had known and loved for so long back where he belonged. It was the perfect solution and I knew we could do more to help in Canada, raising money for Kidaai.

“I love that idea.” The excitement in my voice bubbled up when I spoke. “But there's only one thing: we can't go until we find the right person to be the orphanage director. I can't leave until that person is in place.”

“I know. We'll stay for as long as we need to.”

“Then it's a deal.” I couldn't stop beaming and pulled him in for a long kiss. “And since it's settled, there's someone I
really
want you to meet. Want to go and find her?”

Eric nodded as he whisked me into his arms. Laughing, he carried me over the threshold of the schoolroom door as we left, together, to find Mama Bu.

“We're going to stay until we find the perfect person to be the orphanage director. If it's okay, Eric and I will move in here and take care of the kids until we find the right person for the role,” I told Mama Bu. It was later that night and she and I were sitting in the common room of the orphanage, having some tea.

Eric was sleeping off his jet lag upstairs and the kids had all been tucked into bed. Before they all fell soundly asleep, Mama Bu, Eric and I had taken turns reading stories and singing songs to them. Johanna had listened, resting on one of the bunk beds. She said it was for her unborn baby to hear as well, but I think she enjoyed the warmth and happiness that had taken over Kidaai.

“That will be fine, Nicky.” Mama Bu winked at me, then grinned. “And you might find the right person sooner than you think. Someone who would do the job that you have intended. She would love the children as her own and make sure they brush their teeth each day and eat the eggs from the new chicken coop. Someone who would commit to the role as wholeheartedly as you would have.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Me, Nicky. I was thinking of . . .
me
.” Mama Bu smiled over her mug and I instantly returned her grin. I couldn't think of a person who was more perfect than Mama Bu. I was ecstatic at her suggestion.

“What . . . Mama Bu! But what about Kiano? And Petar?” I asked, still smiling.

“Petar's the last of my babies and he will be leaving us soon enough. Our house and property have become a lot to manage, especially with Kiano spending so much time at his sister's place.” Mama Bu paused, letting me think through what she was saying.

“So, if Kiano and Lucy agree, and I believe they will, I was thinking both Lucy and we could rent out our homes to other families, and move everyone here. Kiano's working most days anyhow, and I will run the orphanage. I know Lucy really misses teaching — the job she gave up when her kids were born — and this way she could take over the classroom here. Also, she would get to see her kids instead of working as a maid seven days a week and that would mean much to her.”

Mama Bu recognized the look of relief that had taken over my face and patted my knee in the motherly way she had done so often since I had arrived in Kenya. “See, chicka, I told you the children would be fine.”

I grinned at my host mother and squeezed her hand.

“We will miss you here, Nicky. More than you know. But you need to go, with Eric, back to Canada. You need to return to the place where you belong. To your life. You have found your happiness, Nicky, now go and live in it.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, I could say nothing in reply. Instead, I held my mug of chai up to hers and sealed the deal with the clink of Kenyan ceramic.