Claire's Prayer (12 page)

Urging her on along the footpath, Naomi replied emotionally, “I do love him – have loved him for years. But… Well, he was married before, you know. His wife and young daughter were killed in a car accident about four years ago. Oh, Claire – I just don’t know. When I think of him being married to someone else, having a child with her, I feel… I don’t know, inadequate – unable to compete. But when he’s with me, holding me… I need him so much. I just wish I felt like he needs me, too. He’s eight years older than me, you know? I guess I was never sure he took me seriously. When we first got together…” Naomi tailed off. “I guess I just feel confused.” She sighed, her words fading away.

Claire was not sure how to answer, or how to advise her. Stopping under a huge, shady tree she spoke slowly, feeling her way around the situation. “I know it must be hard for you to accept that he loved someone else before you, Naomi, but do you think he can’t love you just as much – if not more? He’s not rushed into this. I think you should tell him what you’ve just told me: be open with him. You love him, and I’m sure he loves you – so start your future together on an honest foundation.”

Even before listening to her, Naomi’s expression had begun to brighten, as though just speaking her thoughts aloud had lightened them. She took a deep drink from her water bottle.

“You’re right, Claire,” she half-smiled at last, shaking her head. “It seems so obvious now you’ve said it.” Naomi handed the bottle to Claire. “Besides,” she continued, “I simply will not allow a past tragedy to destroy my life. There’s been quite enough of that, for all of us! As soon as we get back to the hotel I’ll phone him. Now come on, slow coach – let’s go see the Falls!”

Following her eagerly, Claire was glad she’d been able to help, even if just by being a sympathetic ear. Then they approached the edge of the cliff, and the trees thinned. Claire gasped in awe. The mighty Zambezi river poured, roaring and foaming, into the gorge below, its frothy streams a curtain of flowing white.

Naomi’s voice reached her above the roar of the water. “They call it ‘Mosi oa Tunya’,” she called, “which means ‘the smoke that thunders’.” Naomi pointed towards an information plaque dripping with water. “Livingstone first saw it in November 1855 and named it after his queen: so, ‘Victoria Falls’.”

Staring mesmerized into the foaming, swirling mass, Claire had to summon up her voice. “It’s spectacular, Naomi,” she shouted back. “So absolutely awesome. I have to paint it!”

Laughingly defusing the emotion-filled moment, Naomi led Claire onwards.

“Come on; let’s go see the statue of Livingstone and walk through the rainforest – we just cut across it before. You can paint tomorrow, okay? If you can find anywhere dry enough! That spot is called ‘The Boiling Pot’, by the way. For obvious reasons!”

Entranced, Claire followed. In a clearing near what Naomi said was the ‘Devil’s Cataract’ stood a tall bronze statue of David Livingstone, gazing for all eternity out over the magnificent Falls. Claire stared in wonder at the majestic grandeur of the view, seeing it, she felt, just as Livingstone himself must have done many years before. She read the plaque in front of her. Yes, she agreed with the quote: even angels in flight must have gazed in awe upon the magnificent sight.

Reluctantly guiding her from the side of the Falls, after some assurance that they would come back, Naomi walked beside Claire into the rainforest. Within minutes, their hair was covered in a fine mist, and Claire was again grateful that they’d taken time to hire raincoats. Raising her face, enjoying the feel of the fine spray, Claire was amazed at the exotic lushness of the forest. Ferns, lianas and orchids flourished in the continually-drenched tropical jungle. Sunlight filtered through the green maze of tree branches, its beams catching the damp air in glowing fingers. For all her friend’s charms, Claire fleetingly wished it was Seth at her side, sharing this beauty and wonder with her.

The thunderous echo of the crashing, mighty Falls forever in the background, Claire wandered slowly along the paths laid out in the rainforest. The raw, untouched beauty of the Victoria Falls had totally captivated her heart. Words flowed through her mind, but none could be found to describe the truly majestic wonder of the place. Silently she thanked God for the awesome beauty around her. Surely, if He could take time to create such perfection in nature, he would help her to cope with Seth. After all, nothing was too difficult for God. Claire shivered delicately as an icy drop ran down her neck.

Naomi watched her, puzzled at the rapture on her face and the way her lips moved slightly, as though she were talking to herself. Other tourists passed them, giving Claire a wide berth, and eying her strangely. Finally taking hold of her arm, Naomi firmly shook Claire out of her trance-like state.

“Claire, it’s getting jolly cold in here. Let’s go, please? I swear, you can come again! We’re here for a few days, okay?”

Forcibly dragging her thoughts back into the present, Claire stared blankly at Naomi before blinking, and nodding mutely. Pulling a face at her and muttering something about crazy foreigners, Naomi pulled her along the path, and out into the warm sunlight.

Stripping off their raincoats, the girls walked in companionable silence to the BMW. Now coming back to herself, Claire’s fingers itched to get hold of a paintbrush, and somehow to try and capture the indescribable beauty she had felt. Within minutes they were back at the hotel. Looking at one another in the lobby and seeing two flushed, bedraggled hikers, the two girls agreed to tidy up before dinner. Dripping on their way to the lifts, they attracted more than a few interested male glances – but to these they were both oblivious, their thoughts and hearts firmly set on other objects.

In the privacy of their room, Naomi showered while Claire enjoyed tea. As the hot water cascaded over her body, she allowed her heart to fill with renewed hope. She loved Tony so much – maybe Claire was right, and he’d be able to love her as much as if not more than his late wife. And maybe one day they, too, could create a child together… Claire had helped her to see that, maybe, love really could conquer all.

Claire sat pensively in the bedroom, staring out of the window. Her friend’s revelation had made her think even more deeply and questioningly about what she thought she was doing with Seth. She wondered again what Seth was doing with her, and if they had any chance at all of a future together. Claire sighed deeply as she recalled Naomi saying that Seth had suffered the loss of loved ones before. Her heart ached for him, and she wondered if he would ever find his way back to God. She couldn’t imagine how she would have handled her parents’ death without the Lord’s love and constant presence, and could barely imagine how it was that Seth coped so well. Or seemed to.

For the short time she had known him, she was amazed at how important Seth had become to her. He was on her mind all the time, and the ache he had created was always with her. Somehow she now felt incomplete without him, which was very perplexing. For twenty-odd years she had managed quite happily without him, completely unaware that he existed. But now…

Claire heard the shower shut off. Naomi was so lucky, she thought – and, timely, remembered her friend’s decision to call Tony. She’d have to get out of the way. Squashing the tumult within her heart, Claire smiled brightly as Naomi stepped back into the room swathed in a soft white dressing gown.

“I’ve left you some tea,” she told her, placing a cup not-too-subtly beside the telephone. “Hope you enjoy it as much as I am going to enjoy a long, hot bubble bath…”

Squeezing her friend’s hand on the way past, Claire disappeared into the bathroom. Lazing in the steaming water and listening to the radio, she nevertheless could just hear Naomi on the telephone, catching the odd phrase now and then.
They deserve things to be easy
, she thought.
They suit each other
. In Tony, Claire felt, Naomi would find the love and security she herself craved.

Half an hour later, still towelling her hair dry, Claire emerged to find Naomi almost bubbling over with happiness. In a soft, unbelieving voice she told Claire, “I phoned Tony while you were bathing, and I’m so glad I did. I told him how I feel about his past, and that I love him. You were right, Claire; what he felt for his wife and child – it’s not that it doesn’t matter, but it has nothing to do with what he feels for me. He loves
me
. I wish he was here right now. Oh Claire, I’m so happy!” Naomi was practically spinning around the room. “This has to be the happiest day of my life. Thank you,
thank you
for helping me to see sense. I… I feel like I’ve finally found my way home.”

Throughout dinner, joy shone palpably in Naomi’s eyes. The two women celebrated in style, enjoying the hotel’s elaborate cocktails and making preliminary wedding plans. The sunset over the Falls was spectacular: the sun, a huge orange orb, hung low in the eastern sky, painting the whole horizon with a golden glow. Then dusk fell suddenly, like someone had lowered a black shaw – and, out of nowhere, stars appeared in the newly inky expanse and the cry of the fish eagle welcomed another exquisite Zimbabwean night. Claire, although giggling with the contagious excitement that filled the air, felt the tiniest twinge of envy for her happiness. All the while she sincerely wished Naomi the very best for her future with Tony, she was agitatedly trying to ignore the feeling of almost desperate longing that flowed into her heart.

After dinner, a crowd gathered on the rolling green lawn. Stillness fell over the group as the Shangaan and Makishi dancers pranced and cavorted to the heavy beat of the tribal drums. In authentic costume, the performers moved rhythmically to the haunting sounds of their traditional music. The enraptured audience watched in hushed silence as they gyrated through the ‘war dance’ and the ‘hyena and goat dance’. Claire wished she could go back in time, just for a moment, and glimpse Zimbabwe as it must have been, before David Livingstone – before the colonies had arrived at all. To grab just a passing glance at ‘Mosi oa Tunya’ as the bushmen and Bechuana people had seen it so many years ago… Before the world had become so complicated.

A chilly wind caused the trees to bow and sway, and the ever-present thundering of the Falls almost reminded Claire of the sea back home, of sunny days on the beach… of a time when her life was carefree, and straightforward. When black was black, and white was white. Now, no matter how hard she tried, she only saw shades of grey. Suddenly the depth of her confusion weighed heavily on her. Everything seemed confusing: the future – for her and for Ireland, for Zimbabwe, everything – was so uncertain. Her life and her emotions were in turmoil, and she had no-one to tell her how to fix them: no-one to tell her what was right. She had only her faith, and she felt she was failing at it.

The echoing beat of the drums died down, and the trance was broken. In groups of twos and threes, the crowd dispersed. Desperately trying to get a grip on herself, Claire exaggerated her tiredness.

Later, in their hotel room, she looked over at Naomi. The new bride-to-be had fallen asleep almost instantaneously, a contented sigh leaving her lips as she closed her eyes. Glimmering there, Claire saw hope. Even earlier that day, Naomi had seemed to feel as much of a mess as Claire did. Naomi too had felt loss and suffering, had watched her homeland tear itself apart, and yet now she looked calm – serene, almost. Naomi had found someone to halve her burden: someone who understood and shared her pain. If only Claire could just dream Seth might do the same for her, rather than disrupting her thoughts still more than they’d been when she’d arrived.

Claire gave up trying to follow the words of her novel, and instead reached for her Bible. She turned the pages slowly to find Solomon, in Ecclesiastes, as he too questioned and probed the rhythms and reasons of life. Sighing resignedly, she decided that her yearning after Seth was madness – definitely ‘a grasping of the wind’, as impossible now as it was in Solomon’s day. Trying to ease her troubled mind, Claire spoke to God in prayer. But when sleep finally claimed her, a short while later, she still had no answers, nor the peace she so desperately sought.

Chapter Ten

He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.

(Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Impunzi

Back at Impunzi, Seth ate a solitary dinner and cursed his inability to settle down to anything productive. He’d spent the day aimlessly driving around the ranch achieving nothing, his mind filled with images of Claire. Groundless anger burned inside him, but he was not even sure where he was directing it. At himself, for being bowled over by Claire? Naomi, whom he could cheerfully throttle for taking Claire away? Or Claire herself? If she were here right now, he thought, he could vent his anger either by a rip-roaring argument, or… Seth furiously broke off the trend of his thoughts. Realising too late the route they were taking him, he cursed softly. As angry as he was, he could not stop his thoughts.

This pattern had been played out countless times as his hands had gripped his steering wheel. Claire walked stubbornly back through his mind in technicolor glory: images of her, the feel of her, the subtle scent of her, the way she fit against him – it all filtered through his attempts at concentration elsewhere. Cursing his vivid imagination, and the insistent ache in his body, Seth stalked over to the bar and extracted the first bottle his fingers touched. Switching on the television, needing the noise, he proceeded to finish the half bottle of whisky, desperate to numb himself.

Much later, the blank television screen hissing in the eerie half-darkness, Seth lay slumped against the sofa. The oblivion he had hoped to find in the alcohol had proved unattainable. Even with an aching head and dulled senses, he found images of Claire ambushed him whenever he closed his eyes. Groaning loudly, he dropped the almost empty glass he’d been clutching, mindless of the liquid spilling onto the rug. Stumbling, he clicked off the television, and then groped his way upstairs to fall fully clothed onto his bed. Haphazardly pulling the blanket over himself, Seth gave in to the drugged sleep that finally claimed him.

Joseph rang the breakfast gong at the usual time the next morning. When Seth had still not appeared after the third gong, Joseph decided that he had better find out what was wrong. Cautiously entering the lounge, he wrinkled his nose delicately and, shaking his head, he picked up the empty whisky bottle and the glass. He would have to scrub the rug with disinfectant to get the smell of the alcohol out of it. Clutching the bottle, he climbed the stairs.

Sometimes, Joseph really didn’t understand how his boss’s head worked. It was funny, this relationship he had with Seth and Naomi – he’d watched them grow up and, especially now, felt they needed looking after with more than just food. As they themselves often said, they were his family. And still, he couldn’t understand: why did Seth complicate everything, when things were as plain as the nose on his face? In Joseph’s culture, you didn’t play games. If you liked someone, you said so – and then you approached her parents. You didn’t get angry. Joseph sighed, hoping, as he had so often since the attack, that Seth would just stop fighting against himself.

As Joseph neared the landing, the sound of Seth’s snores became clear. Undecided upon a course of action, he hesitated in the doorway. His young employer lay flat on his back, fully clothed and dead to the world. Turning back with resolution, Joseph made up a tray of strong coffee and, adding a bottle of aspirin, climbed the stairs again. Shaking Seth by his shoulder until he awoke, Joseph cheerfully poured him some coffee and placed three pills in his palm, ignoring the mumbled curses that left his boss’s lips. Seth accepted the coffee, staring bleary-eyed at Joseph. His head felt like it had a whole orchestra pounding away in it. Running his tongue over his teeth, he fought down feelings of nausea.

Suddenly repulsed at himself and the situation, in a rough voice Seth snapped, “Get out of here, Joseph. What are you staring at? Go on!”

Joseph said nothing, but backed off tactfully. Seth’s sense of self-disgust multiplied. He held out his hand to prevent his old friend from leaving.

“Wait, Joseph,” he mumbled, apologetically. “Look – thanks for the coffee. Hold breakfast for about half an hour so I can get cleaned up, okay?”

Twenty minutes later, Seth sat down to a large breakfast. He looked much better but, if anything, felt worse; his guilt for snapping at Joseph had made him hurry his shower although he had really needed it. He vowed, pointlessly, never to over-indulge again. Joseph poured him more hot coffee and, grinning, placed the bottle of aspirin next to the coffee mug. Giving him a sheepish grimace, Seth shook out two tablets, hoping they would stop the hammering in his head.

The Victoria Falls Hotel, Zimbabwe

Claire woke up slowly, and for a few seconds she did not know where she was. Then she caught Naomi’s eye. Naomi jumped out of bed as though Claire’s revival had been a green flag, greeting Claire with a cheery ‘good morning!’. The brunette pulled on her dressing gown as she dashed to the door and, opening it, she bent down and picked up the tea tray that was awaiting them. Depositing it on the table, she poured tea for both of them. Although seconds before Claire had wanted nothing more than to roll over and continue to ignore the world, Naomi’s happiness was contagious. For the hundredth time, Claire decided to put Seth out of her mind and enjoy what the day had to offer.

Naomi had woken an hour earlier, and spent the quiet moments thinking about Tony. If she was honest, she wanted nothing more than just to go back to Impunzi and be with him, but Claire deserved to see all that the Falls had to offer. Yes, Claire was a paying guest – but, more than that, she’d become a genuinely close friend in a very short time. Naomi really cared about Claire: she was so easygoing, and she seemed so wise beyond her years that it had seemed natural to open up to her. Claire’s quiet, deeply spiritual confidence had made Naomi feel calmer and more stable than she had in years. Besides, Tony would be there when she got back, and then they had the rest of their lives to spend together.

During breakfast, Naomi informed Claire, “I have plans for us! This morning we’re going to go and see the crocodile farm, and after that we’ll pop into town to try and find you some paints and things. Oh, but there’s also a lovely curio shop at the farm – the ‘Croccarosity’ shop! There are some lovely knick-knacks there, souvenirs, you know… Well, you can see for yourself later. Does that all sound okay?”

Smiling happily, Claire agreed. “Yes, it all sounds wonderful!” She took another huge bite of toast and, voice muffled, asked, “Do you think I’ll have any time to paint this afternoon?”

Grinning at her, Naomi conceded. “I suppose I can spare you for an hour or two! But this evening I thought we could go on a sun-downer cruise. That really is a
must
– you’re going to love it.”

Still tucking into her breakfast hungrily, Claire mumbled, “Mmmmokay…” She swallowed, and beamed, “That sounds great!”

The friends’ trip to Spencer’s Creek Crocodile Ranch and its adjoining nature sanctuary was not a visit Claire would easily forget, distracted though she had been. Joining a guided tour, she listened in fascination to all they were told – and even held a baby crocodile, which she learned was called a hatchling. Aspects of crocodile biology were explained in layman’s terms: Claire learned that a crocodile’s teeth grew again as soon as they lost them, and that they had special valves in their gullets, actually made of muscle, which closed off when the crocodile submerged and enabled the reptile to catch fish without swallowing water or drowning. After holding the hatchling, too, and beginning to be charmed rather than repelled by the crocs’ smooth, hard scales and flickering eyes, Claire stared in horror at a large, ugly male basking in the sun. It was over four metres long and weighed about 450 pounds; the reptile was like some terrifying, pre-historic monster. As though reading Claire’s thoughts, the tour guide informed them that crocodiles were responsible for more human deaths than any other wild animal, even the big cats. Claire tried to appreciate the evil-looking crocodile and was astounded yet again by the diversity of the wildlife in Zimbabwe. For all the beauty of a lion or a sable, there was the ugliness of the vultures and crocodiles. Claire acknowledged that life was like that too: she just prayed to see the good more than the evil. Everything, she’d begun to understand, seemed to balance out eventually, in life just as in nature.

Having browsed through the ranch’s museum, which Claire found packed with interesting information about the whole area, she caught Naomi with a few candid and goofy photographs, and then followed her into the Croccarosity Shop. She bought some colourful, tie-died t-shirts for herself and Kacey, and a gorgeous leather handbag for Aunt Ellen. Naomi chatted with the young girl who worked in the shop, leaving Claire to explore at leisure. In her heart, Claire knew that she needed no souvenirs to remind her of her stay in Zimbabwe. Each day was imprinted on her memory for all time. Feeling herself growing pensive again, she wandered out of the shop, purchases over her shoulder, and moseyed through a wooden gate.

Claire had reached the botanical gardens. Her breath caught in her throat. There, informative plaques mounted near the indigenous and exotic plants and trees gave information about them and, on the wide ponds, huge lily leaves floated with lovely white flowers, around which butterflies and dragonflies swooped and buzzed. The bubbling stream was overhung with tree branches in which various birds had made their nests. Claire’s mood had changed again – as fluid, she felt, as the shifting identity Zimbabwe seemed to assume around her – and she felt simutaneously at rest and palpably alive. Gratefully sipping a sweet, pale green brew in the botanical tea garden, Claire felt a peace in her spirit as she watched the busy birds and butterflies. Lingering over her tea, Claire was reluctant to leave the unexpected sanctuary. Only after gentle, and then not-so-gentle, urgings from Naomi did she get reluctantly to her feet. The peace that permeated the lush garden had flowed through her soul, bringing brief relief to her raw, confused emotions.

On their way back to town, Naomi could see Claire had perked up hugely for the distraction. She therefore took it upon herself to rival the sanctuary’s tour guide by reeling off all the snippets of information she could dredge from her memory of the area. Eventually, Naomi pulled off the main road and came to a halt where an enormous baobab tree dominated the sky.

Claire had never dreamed that a tree could grow to such extraordinary proportions: its stolid, immovable trunk had to be over 16 metres wide. And, according to a weathered metal plaque, it was estimated to be 1,500 years old. Grabbing her camera, she quickly snapped some photos, straight upwards, into the tree’s canopy. Claire felt awed again. Compared to something so ancient – so astonishingly resilient – she felt with humility the fragility of her own mortality. This tree had survived for all those years… it reminded Claire of Jeremiah’s scripture, and its simile of waterside trees with roots so deep they would hold through any storm.

“So, have you enjoyed your day so far?” Naomi asked, breaking into Claire’s thoughts.

“Oh, yes! There’s just so much to see and take in. Thanks so much for showing me around, Naomi. Do you come out here often, from Impunzi?”

Answering Claire as they walked back to the car, Naomi said, “A few times a year, I guess. It’s standard procedure with tourists: they all want to see the Falls. Either Seth does the trip, or I do. Funny, but I never get tired of this place. Maybe it’s got something to do with the enthusiasm people always have. Things we so often take for granted are always given their proper perspective through someone else’s eyes.” Naomi pulled her car door shut and turned to Claire with a twinkle in her eye. “Okay – now let’s see what paints and paper we can find you. Can you wait until we get back to the hotel for lunch?”

“I’ll cope!” Claire sighed exaggeratedly. “Yes, let’s see what this town has to offer.” Claire snapped on her seatbelt and settled back in her seat. “What I really want is to do a watercolour for Aunt Ellen. She gave me my first set of paints, when I was about five years old. And I remember for a birthday gift she gave me a year’s worth of weekly art lessons. She really backed me, you know? I’m so glad she did. It feels so good to be able to capture a scene on paper forever.”

Claire reminisced fondly, and soon they pulled up in the small town of Victoria Falls. Its stationery shop did not have much to offer, but Claire did manage to find a large sketch pad, some good pencils and a small box of watercolours.

Back at the hotel shortly afterwards, she and Naomi thoroughly enjoyed the buffet lunch. Talking easily, Claire found herself liking Naomi more and more. Putting down her fork after a particularly tasty prawn cocktail, she asked, “Naomi, how did you meet Tony the first time? I’d like to hear how it’s done!”

Naomi laughed. “It wasn’t a plot! He was working at Impunzi, as ranch manager. I knew Seth thought he was way too old for his kid sister, but that didn’t seem to matter… He was just beautiful, you know?” Naomi giggled as she narrated the tale to Claire. She knew so many people forgot the first day they’d met, but that afternoon she first become totally
aware
of Tony was burned onto her memory as though it had been yesterday.

She’d been standing in the yard outside Impunzi on the first day of the college break, shielding her eyes from the sun and glaring at a cloud in the sky, daring it to rain – when the clearing of a throat nearby had caught her attention. Dropping her arm, she stared over at the man who stood watching her. He was standing by the garage with a spanner in his grease-streaked hand. His overalls were covered in black smears, too, and he’d smudged some onto his cheek and forehead. So, this was Tony. Naomi knew he’d apparently worked on the ranch while she’d been at school, and that he’d then gone away; now he’d been asked back as her father’s ranch manager. All but staring, Naomi noticed that even in the loose work clothes this man looked impressively built. He had piercing blue eyes and his blond hair stood in tufts where he had obviously run dirty fingers through it.
Well done, Dad
, she’d thought appreciatively.