Lois put her hand on his clenched fist. "Earlier, you told Diddi you aren't sick anymore. That sounded like progress."
"I want to believe," Kent said desperately. "I want to allow myself to hope."
"But?"
"I guess I've never thought of myself as the sort of guy a woman would ..."
Lois grinned. "Fall for? Totally and uncontrollably?"
"Is that what is happening here?" he asked with endearing innocence.
She leant towards him and slid her fingertips up his arm to his shoulder. "I think you know exactly what's happening here," she said. "I have utterly failed to keep my feelings hidden."
He met her eyes, accelerating her heart. "I need your certainty," he mumbled. "I need to know … be sure …"
She laid her hand on his cheek. "I'm here for you," she vowed. "Whatever you need."
His eyelids dropped. His mouth was tantalisingly close, slightly ajar and awaiting her touch. Lois shut her eyes and succumbed to the overwhelming magnetism that had been drawing them together for days.
"MAMAN!"
Lois's head whipped around, jolted by the raw fear in her son's voice.
"The hog, Maman! Behind you!"
Part 22
The hog's head jutted over the rock above them, its tusks curling out of its mouth, lifting its snout to a menacing scowl. Its beady eyes peered down at them from behind puffed-out cheeks.
"Go away!"
At Diddi's piercing screech, the hog grunted, shook its head, and turned, lumbering out of sight.
Clark realised his hands were cupping Lois's shoulders. "You OK?" he asked.
She leant back into his chest. His hands dropped to her hips, and his jaw rested against her temple. "Yes," she breathed. "I'm fine."
Diddi ran up to them. "That's him!" he cried, pointing up the hill. "That's the same hog me and Sylva saw. Romaric must've got a different one."
Lois crouched low and gathered her son into her arms. "You all right?" she said.
Diddi wriggled free from her embrace after less than a second. "We have to tell Romaric," he said insistently. "He needs to get the hog. We can't let him be this close to the village. He might hurt someone."
"Are you sure it's the same one you saw?" Lois asked.
"Yes," Diddi said, nodding emphatically. "It has those curved tusks and a black head with his eyes pushed together."
"Just about every forest hog has curved tusks and a black head with close-set eyes," Lois said.
"It's the same one," Diddi said. "I know it is."
"OK," she said.
"Maybe it hasn't gone too far away," Diddi said, all traces of his fear replaced by keenness for the battle ahead. "Maybe Romaric will let me go with him when he hunts it down."
"Maybe we should concentrate on getting back safely first," Lois responded.
"OK," Diddi agreed, sobering somewhat. He picked up the pot and headed for the water's edge. "I'll put the fire out."
"Do hogs attack humans?" Clark asked.
"They can," Lois replied. "Particularly the boars. I don't know why it ran away at Diddi's call."
"He said that's what happened last time."
Lois moved in closer, resting her hand on the curve of Clark's shoulder. "Thanks," she said.
Her touch felt like warmed silk. "For what?"
"For standing with me. For being here."
"I …" Clark wanted to promise he would never allow anything to hurt her, but without his inhuman strength, he couldn't guarantee her safety.
"Are you all right?" she asked gently.
"Of course. The hog didn't actually threaten us."
"That's not what I meant."
"Oh." That.
"I'm sorry we were interrupted."
She was sorry? "Perhaps …" He shouldn't have allowed them to be drawn into something so reckless. So wrong.
"Perhaps we can talk about it after Diddi has gone to bed," Lois suggested.
Talk about it? Or allow themselves to slip back to that place again? "I'll help Diddi with the fire," Clark said, scrambling for a way of escape.
"Thanks," she said. "I'll pack my bag."
Five minutes later, they were ready to leave.
"Diddi, I want you to walk behind me and in front of Kent," Lois instructed.
Her son wrinkled his nose. "Do I have to?"
"Yes." Lois hooked her bag on her shoulder and set out along the river.
Diddi, more subdued than he'd been the entire day, followed her silently.
Clark trudged behind them, his mind embroiled with what had almost happened.
Not the trifling matter of the hog. The momentous matter of the almost-kiss.
He had almost kissed Lois.
He had allowed himself to go beyond the limits of his control. He'd been caught up in the moment and had almost kissed Lois.
He was still married.
Lana had said their marriage was finished, but he hadn't signed any papers. She would get the divorce she wanted on the grounds of desertion, but not until enough time had passed to establish the facts.
He was a married man, and he had almost kissed a woman who was not his wife.
A woman who - whatever the terms of her relationship with Matymbou - was also married.
Shame heated Clark's face.
In front, Lois stopped suddenly and turned. "Are you OK?" she said, directing her question over Diddi's head and straight at Clark.
"Yeah," he said, although his reply was devoid of even the tiniest scrap of conviction.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Had she guessed he had been obsessing about the moment before Diddi's shout? Could she really read him with such precision? "It's OK," he mumbled.
"We'll talk."
Clark figured that was supposed to reassure him, but it didn't. He knew she would say he had done nothing wrong. She would remind him that his marriage to Lana was over in every practical sense. She would tell him he had all the time he needed.
But there was no shirking the fact that he'd done something that had been unthinkable just a week ago.
Lois would take responsibility, but he wasn't without blame. He had wanted to kiss her.
He still wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to return to that moment in his mind. He wanted to erase Diddi's shout and imagine the touch of her lips on his … the taste of her sweetness … the -
He couldn't. He drove the images away and forced his mind to the appearance of the hog.
And Lois … leaning back into his chest.
Her hair had been a bouquet of aromas.
She was so pretty with her hair loose.
He wanted to touch it, he realised. He wanted to run his fingers through the soft, dark strands.
He wanted to hold her … he wanted to -
He needed to strangle those thoughts. Dipping his head, Clark commanded himself to count the passing tree trunks and allow nothing else passage through his mind.
Four hundred and twenty-seven trunks and fifteen minutes passed. As they walked, Diddi found his voice again, and loudly analysed every facet of the hog's presence. He pondered if there were more than two. He predicted that when Romaric caught the second one, Clyde and Ines would have to build another roaster. He wondered how long it would be before they had something other than hog for dinner.
As they approached the quarantine area, Tsumbu emerged from the makeshift hut. "Could you get Romaric for us, please?" Lois called.
"Romaric went out," Tsumbu replied.
"When he gets in, could you ask him to come to the gate?"
"Yes, Lois."
"Hey, Tsumbu?" Diddi called. "We went to the miracle berries."
Tsumbu grinned. "Where are ones for me?"
Diddi grinned wider. "We ate yours."
Tsumbu snorted in pretence of displeasure, and the three travellers traipsed into the quarantine area.
"I'm going to wash the swimming clothes," Lois said.
"I'll light the fire," Clark said, relieved to be able to pounce on something that would occupy his hands and hopefully, his mind, too.
"Diddi, you go and read your book until dinner," Lois said.
Diddi gave her a look of mild dissent, but said nothing, obediently going into the hut.
Clark crouched beside the ashes of the morning's fire.
Where to now?
Would they pretend it hadn't happened?
Would Lois want to talk about it?
How would she respond if he told her he regretted their indiscretion?
Would she be offended? Would she become impatient with his inability to move forward?
"Lois!"
She hurried out of the hut at the sound of the voice from the other side of the gate. "Hey, Romaric," she said. "We saw a -"
The gate swung open before she reached it, and Romaric stood there. "Matymbou wants to see you," he said.
Guilt clawed at Clark's stomach.
"Now?" Lois asked in surprise.
"Yes. Now."
Had the chief guessed that his wife was going to ask to end their marriage? "He suddenly wants to speak to me after refusing to come yesterday?" Lois said. Clark thought he detected a little frostiness in her tone. Or perhaps it was just a lack of understanding.
"He said to tell you to go to his hut," Romaric said dispassionately.
Lois dried her hands on her skirt. "He wants me to go into the village?"
"The visitor, too."
"Excuse me?"
"Matymbou said he wants to see you and the visitor," Romaric said without even glancing in Clark's direction. "I'll stay here with Diddi."
Lois turned around. "Matymbou wants to see us," she said to Clark. "Do you mind coming? Or would you rather I remind him you're in quarantine?"
"I'll come," Clark said, although at that moment he could think of about a million things he would rather do than face Lois's husband.
They walked past Romaric and through the gate.
"What do you think he wants?" Clark asked as soon as they were out of Romaric's hearing.
"He probably wants to ask when I think we should return to the village," Lois said. "Or …" She gasped. "… perhaps Rolle has gone into labour."
"If that were the case, why would he want to see me?" Clark asked, unable to keep trepidation from spiking his question.
"He probably figures it's time he met the newest member of the Bangala," Lois said lightly. "Maybe he's realised that adding two extra days to the quarantine was unnecessary."
Is that what she really thought? Or did she have her own ideas about why her husband had suddenly summoned both of them to the village?
Lois stopped abruptly and turned. Her hands gripped Clark's arms. "I wish I knew what to say to help you."
Clark untangled his web of nerves enough to speak. "Every word you say helps me," he said.
"But you still feel bad." She brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let it happen."
"It wasn't your fault. It was me. I shouldn't have -"
"I wish I could hold you until the hurting stops. I wish I could make all your doubts melt away so you can see what I see when I look at you."
"I almost kissed you," Clark grated. "You're married. I'm married."
"OK," she conceded. "We made a mistake. But please don't let one moment spoil everything else."
"You don't understand …" He stopped, knowing he wouldn't be able to explain the war raging inside. His conscience was prickly with regret, but every inclination of his heart was to move in closer and finish now what they'd started by the river.
"I do understand," Lois said. "Lana did this to you. She kissed another man while she was your wife." She brushed her fingertip down his cheek. "But Kent, nothing we do is going to hurt Lana."
"What about Matymbou?"
"I know Matty," she said. "There's nothing to worry about."
Clark nodded, but remorse continued to scorch his veins.
"Would you prefer to go back to the quarantine area?" Lois asked. "You don't have to come with me."
"Matymbou asked to see me, as well."
Lois took his hand, leading him along a well-defined track that weaved through the undergrowth. They came to a wide gate in a brush fence. She pushed it, and it swung open easily. "Welcome to the home of the Bangala," she said.
Clark stepped into the village and looked around the place that - assuming Matymbou didn't banish him on sight - could be his home for the rest of his life.
Circular huts of various sizes and similar in style to the one in the quarantine area were dotted inside the fenced-off area. It was difficult to estimate the number of dwellings behind the ones in view, but Clark's impression was that the village was bigger than he'd imagined.
Some people were walking between the huts; others were clustered in small groups, talking and laughing. A few noticed their arrival.
"Hi, Lois!"
Clark's head snapped around at the sound of the voice. A woman - probably a few years older than Lois - was grinning and waving at them.
"Hi, Gislane," Lois called back. "Thanks for sending all the delicious food."
"You welcome, Lois."
It seemed to Clark as if everyone was staring at him - either openly or from behind the façade of conversation. He could understand their curiosity, but being the focus of attention made him want to squirm.
Did they know he had been ordered to the chief's hut? Did they know why?
He'd felt different all his life, but he'd always strived to hide his differences.
Now, they were on clear display.
"Lois!"
A girl of about twelve years of age sprinted towards them on long spindly legs, her numerous black braids splayed out behind her.
"Lioli." Lois greeted her with obvious pleasure, but raised her hand. "I'm still in quarantine."
Lioli skidded to a stop a yard from them. "How's Diddi?" she asked.
"He's good. We went to the miracle berry bushes today."
Lioli laughed - a light tinkling sound. Her dark eyes swung to Clark. "My name is Lioli Moa-Lois," she said. "Welcome to the Bangala. It is good you have come."
"Thank you," Clark replied. "I'm Kent."
"We have come to see Matymbou," Lois said.
"I hope he ends the quarantine today," Lioli said. "I want you to come back to the village."
As Lioli moved away, a new voice rang out across the clearing. "Monene kitoko, Lois."
Clark turned in the direction of the call. A young woman grinned at them, waving when she saw she had his attention.
Lois grasped Clark's hand. "Come on," she said. "Matymbou's waiting for us." She led him to the nearest structure - one of the smallest huts. They entered through the door, and it took a moment for Clark's eyes to adjust to the dimness.
A slightly rotund man - dressed only in a loincloth - emerged from the shadows. He didn't speak as he moved slowly towards them.
He stopped and raised his head, his dark eyes settling steadily on Clark.
Clark stared back, his breath wrung out as he faced Lois's husband.
"You kissed my wife," Matymbou said.
