"Could you please tell Matymbou that I really need to see him? Could you ask him to come as soon as he can?"
"Yes, Lois. I will tell Matymbou."
"Thank you." Lois drifted back to the fire. Kent had picked up the table and moved to the farthest corner of the quarantine area. His back was to her as he continued painting.
All his joy over the truck had evaporated.
She'd humiliated him.
More than anything in the world, Lois wanted to go to him, take him into her arms, and convince him that everything was going to be all right.
But she wasn't convinced.
He'd felt the bond between them, and he'd rejected it.
Perhaps because she was married. Perhaps because he wasn't ready to allow another woman close enough to hurt him as Lana had hurt him.
Perhaps because he would never be ready.
Lois stifled a sob. Even from a distance of fifty yards, she could feel the anguish emanating from the figure bent over the small table.
And this time, it wasn't Lana who'd driven a stake into his heart.
She'd done it. Lois turned towards the gate, listening in anticipation of the sound of footsteps through the undergrowth. "Please come quickly, Matty," she muttered. "I really need you."
Part 15
Clark stared at the half-painted truck, the brush stagnant in his hand as his heart bounced around his chest like a released balloon.
He'd seen the shirt, and he'd known.
Lois was offended by his semi-nakedness.
And that had to be because she'd picked up something inappropriate in his behaviour. Perhaps down at the river this morning. Perhaps she'd been aware of his battle with temptation.
She'd wanted to talk about it. He hadn't wanted to face her censure. He'd run away.
Something had changed last night. Before last night, they were two people sharing a small space. Now, he was teetering on a precipice, within a look or a touch or a word of falling into a chasm that could never be anything other than hopeless.
Because she was married, and he would never love again.
Clark glanced over his shoulder. Lois was hovering near the gate. It couldn't be lunchtime already. He checked the position of the sun. It wasn't much past mid-morning.
What was Lois waiting for?
Another shirt for him? A larger one, perhaps?
She paced back and forth, still holding the shirt. Agitation crackled in every footstep.
"Lois!"
At the call, Lois spun around and dashed towards the gate. "Matymbou?"
"Matymbou says he can't come."
"Why not?"
"He doesn't want to."
"Did he say why?" she said, lowering her voice a little, but not enough that Clark could avoid hearing the conversation.
"He said you in katakima."
She grunted with frustration. "Did you make it clear that I need to talk to him, Tsumbu?"
"Yes. I said you want that. I said you said it was important."
Lois paused. Clark watched, half-expecting her to march out the gate, into the village, and straight to Matymbou's hut.
But she didn't.
"Would you please tell Romaric that I want to talk to him?"
"He is still out hunting the hog."
Lois puffed out a long breath. "OK," she said. "Thanks, Tsumbu."
She marched into the hut, not even looking in Clark's direction.
Why did she want to talk to her husband? Why had her husband refused to come? Was it because he was busy with tribal duties? Or was it indicative of the condition of their marriage?
Was that what Lois had been trying to tell him? That her marriage to Matymbou wasn't close anymore?
Clark dipped the brush in the oil.
Lois's marriage was none of his business.
Was she upset? Was she going to cry again?
Clark began to hum tunelessly.
He stopped the low drone in his throat and concentrated his hearing inside the hut.
She wasn't crying.
But she was upset. He didn't need extra hearing or enhanced vision to be able to feel her anxiety snaking through his heart.
Clark placed the paintbrush on the top of the tin, not caring that it would drip into the grass. He sprinted over to the hut, not understanding why he was going but driven by something stronger than rational thought.
He stepped into the doorway.
Lois was standing between the beds, her head down. She looked up as he entered. She pushed out a weak smile from the midst of her distress.
"Is there anything I can do?" Clark asked, pinning his arms by his side.
Her smile strengthened. "You can tell me to stop being silly," she said.
"Silly about what?" he croaked as his eyes jumped to the shirt lying in a heap on the bed.
"I wanted to talk to Matymbou about something, but Tsumbu said he won't come."
Clark said nothing, not daring to open his mouth in case his distaste for Matymbou slipped out.
"So, I'm wondering if there's something he doesn't want to tell me," Lois said. "Perhaps Sylva's injury is worse than she initially thought. Or perhaps it's Diddi."
"Diddi?" Clark said. "Romaric said he wasn't hurt."
"I know. But there has to be a reason why Matymbou is refusing to speak to me."
"Perhaps he's planning a surprise for you when you return."
Lois shook her head. "No, he wouldn't do that. But if something has happened … He knows I'll ask questions. Perhaps he's trying to save me from worrying." Her deep brown eyes cannoned into Clark's. "I can't stop thinking about how he extended the quarantine by two days."
"If it were something really serious, I'm sure he would tell you," Clark said, although he wasn't sure at all. "You're the medicine woman."
"Rolle's baby is due soon," Lois said. "It's her first, and she's very young. Elza had another of her turns last week. Alida is still coughing; it's keeping her awake at night. And I don't think Joudrier's wrist is healing properly. He should be able to use it by now. Sylva is old. A fall could be really serious. Maybe it's worsened. Maybe it's broken. Maybe -"
Clark stepped towards her, lifted his arms, realised what he was doing, and jerked them back to his sides. He tried words, instead. "Is there anyone else with medical knowledge? Besides Sylva?"
"There's a young man called Tyrell who has asked if he can learn from Sylva, but she would have to direct him closely in everything he did."
"I'm sorry, Lois," Clark said. "I'm sorry you have to be here with me. I'm sorry you have to be away from you husband and son. And I'm sorry about the shirt."
Another call came beyond the gate. "Lois?"
"Romaric?" Lois brushed past Clark and ran out of the hut.
"Tsumbu said you wanted to talk to me," Romaric said.
Lois opened the gate. "Is Diddi OK?" she asked. "Please tell me the truth."
"Yes, Diddi is fine. He is with Gislane."
"I asked Matymbou to come and speak to me, but he wouldn't," Lois said. "Do you know why?"
"I know Diddi is fine. I showed him the hog when I got back to the village."
"What about Sylva?"
"The bigness of her ankle is going down. She can walk now. Clyde made her a stick to help her be steady."
"Has Rolle had her baby?"
"No."
"Is Elza OK?"
"Yes."
"Is Joudrier all right?"
"He's telling everyone where to put the wood for the fire that will cook the hog."
"So everything's fine?" Lois said, sounding more optimistic.
"Yes."
She pushed back some stray hair that had escaped from her braids. "Thanks for coming, Romaric." She turned from the gate, almost running into Clark. He stepped back quickly.
She eyed him directly. "Kent," she said, "we have to talk."
"Lois." He released the dam of captured breath. "Lois … we can't -"
She put her hand on his arm. "I have to tell you something," she said. "I'm not sure if now is the right time, but I can't let you go on thinking -"
"Why did you want to see your husband?" Clark said.
"Because I wasn't sure what to do and he always helps me to see things straighter."
"Are you going to tell him that I made you uncomfortable? That you'd prefer I wear more clothes?"
Tears filled her eyes. "Aww, Kent," she said. "I'm so sorry."
Sorry for what? The shirt? Last night? Insisting they talk? Making him feel as if his life could never be complete without her?
Clark shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
He couldn't hold her.
He couldn't even allow himself to touch her.
He had to find a way to escape. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?" he said, despising his cowardice and ineptitude in equal measure.
She nodded. "Thanks."
"Wait in the shade," Clark said. "I'll bring it over." He turned to the fire, but it wasn't flames that filled his vision. It was beautiful brown eyes, clouded with confusion and glistening with tears.
~|^|~
Lois wiped her eyes.
She loved Kent. She'd hurt him. She had to make him understand. Understanding wouldn't bring automatic resolution, but she hoped it would allow him the freedom to make choices without the undeserved burden of guilt and shame.
He came back with two cups of coffee, handing her one and sitting across from her. "Feeling better?" he asked.
She nodded absently. She had to begin now. He'd brought her coffee. He'd sat down. This was her opportunity, and she had to take it. She had to find a way to begin that didn't send him scurrying back to the truck. "Kent … about last night …"
"Lois … I think we should just leave last night."
"I feel honoured that you told me about Lana and what she did."
"It's over."
"Your marriage?"
"Everything."
"You don't want to talk about Lana?"
"No," he said, staring into his cup. "There's no point. I can't change what happened."
"What about … what about what happened between you and me?"
His head jolted up. "N…nothing happened. You're a medicine woman. You were just trying to help me."
"I … I don't think what happened last night was because I'm a medicine woman."
"You said you wanted to be my friend."
"Yes. And I do. But if there's something else -"
"Lois," he grated. "There can't be anything else."
"Because I'm married?"
"Yes!"
"That's what I want to talk to you about."
"No, Lois. No. We can't -"
"Hear me out," she said, leaning over and putting her hand on his arm.
Kent snatched his hand away as if her fingers had scolded him.
"Matymbou and me," Lois said. "We're -"
"Maman! Maman!"
"Diddi?" Lois jumped up and ran towards the gate. "Diddi!"
~|^|~
Clark stood, his heart thumping and his mouth dry. What had Lois been about to tell him? That her marriage didn't matter? That she was willing to leave Matymbou? What did she think had happened between them last night?
A small African boy - wearing only a loin cloth - was standing just inside the gate, holding a plate of cookies.
"Diddi?" Lois said as she stopped twenty feet from him. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, Maman," Diddi replied, his grin stretching widely. "Matymbou said I could bring you cookies."
Lois gasped. "Are you sure Matymbou said you could come?"
"Yes," Diddi said with a vehement nod of his head. "He came into Gislane's hut and asked if she had any cookies. She said she did, and he said you probably wanted something to eat with your coffee and I should bring them to you."
"Are you all right?" Lois said. "How's Sylva?"
"Her ankle's 'normous. She can't step on it much 'cause it hurts."
"Are you all right?" Lois repeated. "I heard you were very brave yesterday morning."
"I thought the hog was going to come and get us, Maman," he said, sounding more excited than fearful now. "I shouted to frighten it away, and Romaric heard me. He came, but the hog had runned away by then."
Clark moved out of the shade of the tree. "Were you scared?" Lois asked her son.
"Just a bit," Diddi said. "I thought the hog was going to -" His eyes slid past Lois and settled on Clark.
"Diddi," Lois said. "This is Kent." She turned to Clark, beckoning him forward. "Come and meet my son, Didier Sol-Matymbou."
"Hello, Diddi," Clark said. "I'm so pleased to meet you."
"I'm pleased to meet you, too," Diddi said, his eyes scrutinising the full length of Clark's body. "You're not green anymore."
"Your mother helped me to get better."
"I knew she would," the boy said. He took a couple of steps closer to Clark. "Did you fall out of your rocket? Is that how you got so hurted?"
