The Crocodile's Last Embrace (3 page)

After the first two weeks of trying to keep busy, she’d turned her pet cheetah, Biscuit, over to Madeline and Neville Thompson on their coffee farm and taken a boat to Europe. She’d wandered through France, visiting the battlefields and searching out some old friends from the countryside. Then, at her mother’s insistence, she’d spent Christmas with a distant cousin in Andalusia. Over the holidays she’d sent a telegram to Sam, care of his parents in Battle Ground, Indiana. It read simply,
I love you. Haul your horse’s patoot back here. Jade.
She had no idea if he’d ever received it.

“Your house is crowded, Bev,” Jade said. “Between baby Alice, her nanny, and now your sister, Emily, I wonder you don’t kick me out for the space. It’s time for me to find a place to stay somewhere in town.”

“Nonsense. Emily’s doing her level best to snag a husband in the colony. I should have her out of the house in no time.”

Jade laughed. “I think you’re actually more fond of her than you let on, Bev.”

Beverly chuckled, a musical laugh like a gently rippling stream. “I suppose she has improved of late. For as long as I can remember, she’s been my bossy, bullying, proper older sister. But she’s had her own rough times, taking care of Father after Mumsy passed. Or perhaps all it took to temper her was knowing that I’m all the family she has left.” She paused and watched as one of the youngest girls, Clarice, accidentally clunked herself in the head with her sling as she spun it around. “Or maybe it took that same knowledge to temper
me
.”

“Don’t look at the sling, Clarice,” Jade called. “Look at the target.”

Bev laughed and turned back to Jade. “You never did tell Avery and me about your time in France. I’m happy to listen if—”

“There’s nothing to tell, Bev. But since you won’t let the matter drop until I do, this is the short of it. I went back to each of our corps shelters to do a story for
The Traveler
about the changes in the countryside since the war.”

“A terrible choice of articles,” muttered Beverly.

“Do you want to hear this or not?” Without waiting for a reply, Jade pressed on, eager to get it over with. Much like removing a splinter, it wasn’t any easier for going slowly. “I thought writing the article would help me think.”

“You mean help you to
forget
,” said Beverly. “You thought that seeing places where you hadn’t known Sam would get him out of your mind. And all it did was confuse you more, didn’t it? You thought about David instead. You probably went back to the place where his plane crashed, didn’t you?”

She had lowered her voice when several of the girls turned to watch and listen. Now she raised it to tell them, “If you are finished with your sling practice, then you may go inside and practice sitting quietly.”

As one, the girls returned to their throwing, but Jade heard snatches of whispered phrases. “So tragic” and “How romantic” drifted back to her.

“Wonderful,” said Jade. “I’m sure that will make the gossip rounds now. Don’t the Kenyans have anyone else to talk about besides me and my dead or absent loves?”

David Worthy had courted Jade during the Great War, proposing to her three times, and each time Jade had laughingly said no. After each refusal David had worked that much harder to impress her, flying deeper into enemy territory. On his last run he crashed defending her ambulance. He died in her arms, tasking her to find his missing half brother. Jade had never completely gotten over her guilt concerning his death.

She walked back towards the girls. Biscuit, who’d been napping in the shade of a lush rosebush, stood up and stretched before ambling over to Jade. The beautiful cheetah chirped once in greeting and butted his head against her thigh. Jade responded by stroking his broad head. Since her return, the cat had been very attentive to her, rarely leaving her side. It was as if he’d grown more sensitive to her moods, much like a pet dog.

The girls’ attention, having already been diverted by Jade’s previous comments, was now engaged by the sleek cheetah. Each girl insisted on stroking his back or scratching him behind his ears. Biscuit endured it all with regal indifference, but even he had his limits. After a few minutes of receiving the giggly attention, he padded back to his rosebush and lay down.

“Perhaps it is time to put away the slings, pick up the stones and tins, and get ready for your mothers,” said Beverly.

As if to illustrate her statement, a black Fiat driven by an Indian chauffeur pulled into the Dunburys’ drive. He opened a rear door and an elegantly dressed lady stepped out. More motorcars, a taxi, and a rickshaw arrived soon after. The women in the latter two were neatly but more plainly dressed than those arriving in the motorcars, but every woman wore a hat and white gloves. Beverly advanced to meet them.

“Ladies,” she said, “you are just in time. The girls were about to organize afternoon tea.”

“Lady Dunbury,” said Mrs. Archibald, the first woman to arrive, “Elspeth has spoken of nothing else since you took on this Girl Guide company. At first I assumed that Lady Northey herself would be in charge, but I’m delighted that it is headed by such a charming lady as yourself. Good breeding is so important for the girls, you know.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Archibald. I’m sure it is, but of course, the Girl Guides are founded on the principle that young ladies can and should serve king and country in a variety of ways.”

“Mother,” said Elspeth, tugging on her mother’s sleeve, “come and see what we’re learning today.” She ran back towards the firing line, took her leather sling from her skirt pocket, fitted it with a small stone, whirled the sling, and let the stone fly. It smacked the tin straight on, knocking it to the ground. Elspeth turned towards her mother, her eyes bright with pride in her marksmanship.

Mrs. Archibald and two of the other mothers each gasped in unison, gloved hands covering their open mouths. The other women said nothing, waiting perhaps to see how Lady Dunbury would respond.

Beverly pretended she hadn’t heard the shocked gasps at all. “Very good, Elspeth! Very good, indeed. Now please join the others inside and prepare for tea. I think we might take it on the veranda.”

Elspeth, still oblivious to her mother’s horror, said, “Yes, madame.” She raised her right hand in the guide salute with the three middle fingers upraised and the thumb and pinkie crossed over the palm. Then she joined the others as they lined up, eldest to youngest, and went into the house. When they were out of hearing, Beverly turned back to Mrs. Archibald.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Archibald?” she said. “I thought I heard your breath catch a moment ago.”

“I am shocked, Lady Dunbury! Shocked and horrified that my only daughter is engaged in such . . . such outlandish activities.” The woman’s gaze turned towards Jade and her brows arched. “It is most
unladylike
. Of course, I presume
you
are not to blame for this choice of activity. I shall speak to Lady Northey.”

Jade walked over and stood beside Beverly. She knew that Mrs. Archibald’s statement was meant as a slap in her face. She didn’t care about this woman’s opinion of her, but she
was
prepared to defend her friend. Beverly believed strongly in the Girl Guides, enough to begin a company years before her own infant daughter would be able to participate.

Beverly drew herself up straighter, maintaining her benevolent—if no longer warm—smile. “I’m sorry you feel this way, Mrs. Archibald. Your disapproval can only be a result of your lack of knowledge, knowledge of the brave deeds performed by some of the finest women the world has ever seen. Women with whom I had the honor of serving in the late war.” Her chin rose a notch higher. “The women of the Hackett-Lowther ambulance corps were brave, bold, quickwitted, and able to repair their own vehicles.
They
would have applauded a skill in stone throwing, and they were
all
ladies down to the last one, including Miss del Cameron.”

Jade cleared her throat. Her own mother might have disagreed with Beverly on that last point. She’d sent Jade to London to become a lady. It never took. Jade remained what Sam termed a varmint, through and through.

“It’s also very practical,” Jade added. “After all, this is Africa and one never knows when a cobra will appear in your garden. We don’t want the girls to be afraid in their own homes.”

“Well, I’m certain . . . I mean to say, I never,” stammered Mrs. Archibald.

Beverly smiled. “Apology accepted. I knew that once
you
were informed of all the facts you would certainly agree with me.” She made a gathering motion with her left arm while her right pointed the way to the veranda. “Ladies, shall we take tea?”

Jade stayed where she was. The daughters were an affable group by and large, if a little giddy at times, but Jade didn’t wish to spend more time with the mothers than was absolutely necessary. Several of them reminded her of the arty set that in recent years had taken over Taos, New Mexico.

“Aren’t you coming, Jade?” whispered Beverly. “I won’t serve coffee, you know. It isn’t good for you. You are jumpy as it is. But you could have some cake.”

“No, thanks, Bev. It’s enough that I have to see these mothers in two days at Mary’s birthday party. If Mrs. Archibald isn’t happy with me now, imagine how she’ll feel when she learns that we taught the girls how to cauterize a deep wound as a last resort by igniting black powder in it. If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to wait by the lane for Emily to return with the mail.”

Beverly laid a hand gently on her friend’s shoulder. “Jade, dearest. I do hate to see you waiting for word from Sam. It breaks my heart to think that he might never come back, but it saddens me even more to see you so expectant, and then so disappointed.” When Jade didn’t reply, Beverly persisted. “Going to France was a mistake, Jade. All you did was mix yourself up even more. Now you have your feelings for Sam and whatever guilt or loss you still carry for David battling it out in your heart.”

Jade fingered the sapphire ring that she wore on her right hand. Every time she gazed into it, she saw herself aloft in the blue with Sam in his plane. It was impossible to look at the sky without searching for him, without listening to the familiar purring drone of the engine. Sam’s engagement ring didn’t belong on her left hand, since he’d broken off their engagement right after Jade had finally accepted him.

“I will always mourn David,” said Jade, “but as I mourn for any good friend and for all those brave young men who died in that horrid war. But Sam
has
to come back. Because if he doesn’t, Bev, then I have no home. Africa will be dead to me, and if I return to the States, I’ll be trying to find him there. I’d lose more than him, Bev. I’d lose my home, my friends, my family.” She hugged herself against a gnawing emptiness and looked past the rose garden and the stables as if she might see the grasslands far beyond, where the great herds and the prides still roamed. “He’s coming back, Bev. I’m not giving up hope.”

“It’s still early,” said Beverly. “Your four-month edict was hardly enough time.”

“One month to travel, two to sell his motion picture, and one month to return. More than enough,” said Jade. She called to Biscuit to join her and walked down the drive. She chose a shady bench under an arched arbor of bougainvillea and sat to wait for Emily. Bev’s sister had driven off into Nairobi earlier in the day when the local newspapers had announced that the mail boat had docked in Mombassa two days ago. If one assumed a speedy unloading and sorting, the mail could have arrived on yesterday’s afternoon train. Jade doubted that the mail would actually appear in the post office for pickup until tomorrow, but Emily had seized the excuse to do some shopping.

Biscuit butted up against Jade, turning his head for an ear scratch. Her left hand did the job as she kept her gaze on the lane. The cheetah’s raspy purr erupted in the stillness, and in it Jade imagined she heard the Jenny’s purring motor. She stopped her caresses, and Biscuit settled sphinxlike at her feet.

Maybe Bev was right. Maybe going to France had been a bad idea. But staying here would have been worse. Still, things had happened on that trip that Jade hadn’t told Bev. Beverly had been afraid that Jade’s nightmares would begin again. They hadn’t. In fact, sleep had been her one respite. But awake? Awake she’d been pursued by living nightmares. Twice she’d had unnerving experiences, too insubstantial to be real, too corporeal to be dreams. Once, she swore she heard the cries of the wounded drifting up from an old battlefield.

She hadn’t been in France for more than a week when she’d had her vision. She’d encountered several veterans of the war making their own pilgrimage and many wore their uniform, or part of it. So when Jade first spied the RFC pilot sixty feet in front of her, she didn’t think much of it, except to wonder whether he might have also been a friend of David Worthy’s.

Jade’s arms tingled anew at the memory.

His face was a mask of tragedy and perhaps shame. And then, when she’d blinked, he was gone. She couldn’t explain that to herself. There was no sense in trying to explain it to Beverly.

The chug of a motorcar brought Jade’s mind back to the present. She stood and looked down the lane.
Good, Emily’s back.
Bev’s sister drove the Hupmobile over to the garage built beside the stables and parked beside Avery’s Dodge truck. Jade went to meet her. As Emily walked to the house, she cradled several parcels in her arms and gripped a cluster of envelopes in her left hand. She was a paler version of Beverly, a description that went beyond milk white skin and hair the color of unbleached muslin. Emily lacked her sister’s self-assurance and her ebullient if sometimes ornery personality. An attractive woman in her own right, she’d suffered from constant comparison to her beautiful younger sibling. Now, at twenty-six, she’d made peace with herself and Beverly and had come to the colony in search of a life.