Fever (21 page)

“I can hardly wait,” Sara teased.

“Would you like to go for a game drive in the reserve while we wait for the others to return? You haven’t had any time to see the sights since we arrived, and believe me, the animals are the best.”

In her excitement Sara threw her arms around Zak’s neck and hugged her close. “That would be fantastic. I’ve been wondering how to get it in. What do I take? When can we leave? Is it safe? Who will drive us?” Zak’s body had gone still. Sara tried to pretend she didn’t feel the heat that flared between them as she backed away and willed her voice to remain calm. “Well, don’t just stand there. I want to see Simba, Dumbo, Tigger, and Snagglepuss.”

“Um—I’m not sure I can promise that, but you’ll definitely see animals. Bring water. We can leave now. It’s perfectly safe, and I’ll drive.” Zak’s eyes never left hers and her voice had a heavy, sex-strained tone that made Sara’s insides tremble.

“Right.” Sara forced herself to move away from Zak and gather some bottles of water, a hat, notepad, and her camera. When she reached the truck, Zak was already waiting for her with the engine running. “Let’s do this.”

They had traveled only a short distance into the bush when Zak pointed across the savannah toward something Sara could hardly see. “There.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, as if the creatures moving gracefully toward them could already hear her. “
Simbas
, Swahili for lions. A mother and three cubs.”

Sara put her knees in the truck seat and stretched her upper body out the window to get a better look. She adjusted the camera to telescopic view and could scarcely distinguish the straw-colored creatures from the dry elephant grass. As the animals approached, the lioness sniffed the air and was apparently satisfied that the women posed no danger. Her speckled cubs followed close behind, their disproportionate ears almost comical perched atop small heads.

“They’re so gorgeous, like kittens,” Sara said as she snapped picture after picture.

“As long as you don’t approach them, especially the cubs. Never forget they’re predators.”

“Ever the optimist,” she mumbled as Zak drove farther into the bush.

Sara felt like she was in a
Wild Kingdom
episode as the dry grass stretched ahead of them for miles and dust plumes followed their every move. Huge termite mounds rose from the scorched earth like missiles pointed skyward. She stole a glance at Zak and was surprised by the look of utter peace and happiness on her face. This was truly her element—the open, untamed, challenging wilderness of Africa.

“Just ahead is an ostrich nest.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen it on my morning runs. The parents should be nearby. The females lay eggs in the same nest, and then one male and one female take turns incubating and guarding it until they hatch. We could learn a few things about family from these birds.”

Zak turned the truck off a few yards from a shallow hole in the ground that held between ten and fifteen large dull yellow eggs. In a few minutes the male appeared, looking gallant in his black-and-white tuxedo outfit, bare neck and legs. He watched them for a while before settling gingerly onto his charges.

“Wow, those must be some tough eggs.”

Zak waited patiently while she finished snapping pictures. “Ready?”

“What’s next? This is so great. I can’t believe I’ve never been on safari. We always stayed on the island and stuck to water sports. Thank you.”

“I love your excitement.” The look Zak was giving her made Sara’s pulse accelerate. “It’s like watching a child who’s seeing things for the first time.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“We’ve probably got time to make it to the watering hole to see the elephants. We’ll have to go back then. It’s not safe after dark.”

While she drove, Zak pointed out some of the birds that populated the area. Sara scribbled names and descriptions of the white-capped weaver, superb starling, and secretary bird as she looked, took pictures, and asked questions at the same time. When Zak edged the truck through a stand of umbrella acacias, Sara saw four elephants standing in the edge of the water, two large and two smaller. She pulled on Zak’s sleeve and whispered, “Look.”

“Two cows and two babies. These guys can grow to ten feet tall and weigh six tons. They’re herbivores and eat up to five hundred pounds of vegetation a day and drink forty gallons of water at a time. The females are head of the herds while males live solitary lives.”

Sara couldn’t suppress a smile. “You sound like Animal Planet. How do you know all this stuff?”

“When you live as Maasai you learn everything about the land and animals. It’s part of your survival.” One of the baby elephants waded farther into the pond and sprayed itself with water. “The elephant’s trunk is probably the most versatile appendage on the planet. They can use it as a nose, an arm, a hand, a voice, a straw, or a hose.” One of the cows suddenly rapped her trunk on the ground, producing a resonating rumble, and the watering hole was alive with activity. “Sara, get in the truck.”

Before Sara could sit down completely, Zak was driving away from the pond. “What’s happening?”

“It’s almost dark and the predators are coming to drink. We need to leave.”

“Thank you for doing this. It was amazing.” She touched Zak’s arm and the muscle under her hand twitched. “Sorry. For someone who tries to be so distant and untouchable, you do the nicest things sometimes. I just don’t understand you.”

“Why, because I don’t want anything from you?”

The question surprised Sara, but when she thought about it, that was one of the many things that perplexed her about Zak. “Probably.” She considered the ramifications of her answer as Zak drove them back to camp.

The men still hadn’t returned when they arrived. While they waited, Sara helped Zak pick up wood for the fire and stack it nearby. They worked in silence, unspoken words and ambiguous comments hanging between them like spider webs. She glanced at Zak’s muscled arms and legs as she stooped and gathered, remembering their feel against her body when they lay together at the Stanley. Her resolve weakened as the memory of their interrupted kiss returned. She hadn’t been able to tell Zak how she really felt about that night, and they hadn’t spoken of it again.

What could she say? Zak had a lover and that was the end of it. Nothing Sara could do would alter that fact. Though common sense told her to back off, her body was instinctively drawn to Zak’s like an animal in season. The slightest whiff of her scrambled Sara’s senses and started a fantasy that ended with unfulfilling masturbation in the cocoon of her sleeping bag.

“Is something wrong?” Zak stood with her arms full of firewood, a shy grin on her face.

“You make me so hot.” Sara clasped a hand over her mouth but it was too late. The flush on Zak’s face confirmed that the curse had struck again. “I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t do that. It’s unfair.”

Zak dropped the wood she held and came to her. “We have to talk.” The desire in her eyes was so intense it pulled Sara in and she swayed forward. Zak encircled her waist and brought their bodies closer. How could someone with a lover look at her that way, like she was the only woman on earth? At that moment Sara believed she was and that the passion she saw was for her alone. Their lips were so close she could taste the heat of Zak’s breath.

“Ebony!” A familiar woman’s voice pierced the twilight stillness as three trucks full of people rolled into camp.

“Imani,” Zak said, and backed away from Sara, her eyes full of apology. Sara cursed the gods of timing for yet another inopportune interruption of a poignant moment with Zak. The odds seemed to be against them having a heartfelt conversation. Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something. She brushed the unpleasant thought aside as the trucks stopped and people disembarked. Joey ran toward Sara with a plump, very pregnant woman and three children in tow.

“Miss Sara, my wife, Lola, and my children.” The woman and kids gave shy smiles and quickly rejoined the group.

“They are lovely, Joey. Introduce me to everyone.” Sara contented herself with meeting the men’s families and making small talk while periodically glancing at Zak as she welcomed their guests. When Zak slid her arm around Imani’s waist in greeting, Sara couldn’t help but wonder if this was the lover who’d called her yesterday, the woman she was planning to meet in a few days for a rendezvous. Their level of intimacy hadn’t diminished since their last time together, Sara noted with a twinge of discomfort.

Imani wore a bright yellow shuka that clung to her striking figure like a form-fitted garment. Her generous breasts were firm and perky, her waist narrow, and her thighs curvy and inviting. Looking at her own body, Sara felt frumpy and ill-proportioned. A feeling of inadequacy gripped her and she looked away from the couple. There was something so wrong about this. Perhaps she was having a delayed reaction to the disintegration of her own relationship and couldn’t bear to see others happy. But that wasn’t her style. She rejoiced in the happiness of her friends, so what made this different?

Maybe her uneasiness was simple jealousy, but it wasn’t entirely about Zak and Imani being together sexually, though that thought certainly prickled her skin. The depth of their connection and the ease Zak displayed in Imani’s presence made Sara profoundly sad. The two moved with an economy of motion that came from years of close interaction and mutual respect. Their conversations seemed supportive, encouraging, even humorous, never the kind of taxing exchanges she and Zak often had. While she appreciated the fact that someone could help Zak relax and enjoy life, it stung that it wasn’t her. She reined in her emotions as Zak and Imani approached.

“Sara, you remember Imani, Ben’s sister?”

“Of course.” Sara offered her hand but the woman pulled her into a warm embrace.

“It is good to see you again, Sara.” She stepped back and gave Sara a discerning gaze that felt almost too familiar. “You are adjusting to our climate. Your delicate skin now browns instead of burns, unlike Ebony, who never tans. Beautiful.” Sara wasn’t sure if her last reference was meant for her or Zak, but they both blushed.

Zak stepped between Sara and Imani, hooked their arms together, and led them toward the fire. “Ben’s got the fire going, so we should be eating soon. I’ve got something special for you to try,” she said to Sara.

“Not more of that blood stuff, I hope.” Sara’s stomach did a nasty flip.

“Oh, no, this is a time-honored tradition in Kenya. It’s called muratina, basically a weak beer made from muratina, the sausage-tree fruit, and sugar cane. It can be a little sour but won’t hurt you unless you drink too much of it.”

“You will like it,” Imani said as they joined the others.

Several women squatted by the fire, stirring and turning food as it cooked over the open flame. The workmen boasted about their building skills and pointed to the school as evidence of their prowess. While Ben supervised the food preparation, Joey poured the drink into plastic cups and passed them out.

Sara looked at the liquid in her cup and sniffed before deciding whether to drink it. Cow’s blood and milk had cured her of downing anything without a careful inspection. The smell was definitely fermentation-inspired and the look was muddy, at best. She took a tiny sip and the taste was similar to bitter citrus fruit, though not entirely unpleasant.

Zak had been watching and when Sara finally drank, she raised her cup in a toast. “To our fantastic work crew and the progress they’ve made.”

Everyone joined in the toast and after several more Sara forgot all about the bitter taste of muratina. The mystery-meat stew, corn mash, and vegetables provided the most delicious meal she’d had in days. They all sat on the ground surrounding the fire eating, telling stories, and laughing until the children fell asleep and the adults spoke in whispers. One by one the mothers gathered their sleeping toddlers and placed them in the truck beds, covering them with light wraps against the cool night air.

“Now we dance.” Ben rose and started clapping his hands together in a rhythmic beat. The other men joined in humming and chanting as the women danced beside them. Sara, Zak, and Imani were still seated but swayed from side to side with the pulse. The men’s deep chants and the women’s softer replies vibrated with a sensual quality that made the dance seem more like foreplay. One of the men tried to pull Imani into the revelry. She stood but, instead of going with him, grabbed Zak’s hands and dragged her into the circle. Zak offered no resistance as Imani pressed their bodies together in a slow sway. They moved as if they’d danced together hundreds of times. Sara watched their provocative movements and the subtle touches that passed between them.

She’d never seen this side of Zak—physically loose, totally relaxed, and seemingly sexually available. The memory of their kiss returned and Sara took another gulp of beer. It cooled her throat but did nothing to quench the fire that raged inside her. She couldn’t watch another woman caressing Zak. More to the point, she couldn’t bear that Zak was allowing it when she’d told Sara no.

She poured another cup of bush beer and walked toward the camp’s perimeter. If it was going to happen, she didn’t have to watch. That was too masochistic for her taste. She chugged the beer quickly and the flush of intoxication raced through her. The starlit sky was too beautiful, the music too arousing, and the image of Zak and Imani too disturbing to face sober. The dregs of her muratina went down as easily as the tears rolled off her cheeks. Watching the stars, letting her tears fall, Sara didn’t notice when the music stopped behind her.