I turned to her and smiled. “Sounds fair enough. No more stereotyping.”
“Thank you.”
Turning my attention back to the pictures, one of them caught my eye. “What’s this boy holding?”
“Where?” She walked up beside me and examined the photograph. “That’s a homemade football.”
“You mean soccer ball?”
“Yes. They get plastic bags and paper out of the trash, form it into a ball”—she acted it out with her hands as she explained it—“and then wrap it in twine.”
“They don’t have balls to play with?”
“No.” I felt her grab my shirt. She pulled me to the opposite side of the wall but didn’t let go of the shirt. “See this little boy? That’s a homemade toy in his hand. The wheels are made out of bottle caps, and the body of the car is wire that he or someone else formed to look like a car.” She pulled me by the shirt again and then let go. “And this little girl here, her doll is an old T-shirt that she twisted to look like a babe’s body. She carries it in a satchel on her back, just like the mothers carry their children.”
“I can’t believe they don’t even have toys.” My eyes rested on a boy wearing a blue-and-red jumpsuit that had holes in it. It was obviously several sizes too small. “Wait. Is that little boy wearing a Spiderman costume?”
“Yes. Those were his clothes. A lot of the items that don’t sell in secondhand stores here in America are sent there to be given away by different ministries. There was one little girl who walked around in a princess dress that was obviously once a costume.” Her fingers skimmed the photos as she searched the wall. “Here she is. Her name is Belle, or at least that’s what I named her anyway.”
“Why did you choose that name?”
“Don’t you see?” She pulled the photo off the wall and handed it to me. “She’s wearing the dress that Belle wore in Beauty and the Beast.”
Thanks to my sisters forcing me to watch Disney movies and all the princess birthday parties my mom threw for them, I knew Kei was right. It was Belle’s dress, but instead of being bright yellow, it had practically turned brown, and the bottom was in shreds.
“I thought you didn’t watch movies.”
“I did as a child. I especially liked princesses.”
I was dumbfounded.
“And this.” She tugged on my shirt. “This is Beatrice. She’s my neighbor.” Again, she took the picture down and handed it to me.
“How old is she?”
“About two. And every morning she sits in that little tub and gets a bath from her mother.” Kei softly removed the picture from my hand and gazed at it. “That’s where my heart is, right there in that little tub with Beatrice.”
Her eyes teared up as she looked at the child. It was obvious that she was enthralled and in love with her subjects. I was pretty sure they were just as in love with her. Falling in love with her seemed easy to do.
“I’m sorry I didn’t understand what it is you do over there. I can see now how much you love it and why you love them so much.”
She stuck the picture of Beatrice back onto the wall and started to take the one of Belle out of my hands.
I pinched it harder between my fingers. “Can I keep this one?”
“Of course. As long as you let me come visit occasionally.”
“Anytime. We’ll call it joint custody.”
We both stood staring at the beautiful little girl in the tattered yellow dress, and I found myself wishing I could see her in person.
“I guess we’re two very normal people who get to live extraordinary lives,” she whispered. “We’re blessed.”
“We are.” I looked back at Kei. She was still looking at the photograph. “And I’m good to go.”
Her attention turned to me. “Pardon?”
“I’ve just been giving you a hard time. I was saved and baptized when I was fourteen. My soul’s just fine, in case you were worried.”
“Splendid. Then I can save the voodoo for someone else.”
She was still using it. She might not have known she was, and she might not have been using it on what she wanted to be using it for, but I could feel it from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head every time she walked into the room and my head turned her direction. She was a master. She had me under her spell, and she wasn’t even trying.
C H A P T E R
11
We stood staring at each other, both panting heavily and ready for more, but her more than me. Well, her wanting it more than me. I was the one almost completely out of breath.
“One more go at it,” she said. “We can’t end on a tie.”
“My shins are beat to hell.”
“Priss,” she taunted.
“I’m not a priss. You’re violent.”
“If I’m going to spend my time playing yard ball, I might as well end up winning. I prefer not to lose if I can help it.”
“Fine, but stay in bounds this time,” I ordered.
“I was in bounds last time.”
“That’s debatable. You ran around the shrub. The shrubs are out of bounds.”
“We never discussed the shrubs being out of bounds.”
“We’re discussing it now.”
She shrugged. “Fine. The shrubs are out of bounds.”
“Thank you.”
“Baby,” she mocked.
“Shut up.”
She dropped the ball to the ground and rolled it around under her foot. “First one to score wins.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Prepare to get your butt kicked.”
“You wish, sucka.”
“Did you just call me a sucka?”
“Yes.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“You.”
“Of course you did.”
The girl never ceased to make me laugh.
She kicked the ball to a soft spot in the green grass and took two steps back. “On one.”
I stepped away, bent over, and put my hands on my knees. “Count it off.”
“Three, two, one—”
“My mother and sisters will be here in two days.”
My statement caught her completely off guard and gave me just the distraction I needed to take the ball.
“Your what?” she asked as she tried to kick it away but actually only kicked me in the shin again.
“You heard me.”
I shuffled the ball down the yard as she kicked wildly at my heels and tried to shove me out of the way.
“Typical bloody American. Cheater,” she shouted.
“You’re American too.”
I dodged around her and made my way toward the two bottled waters that marked my goal line.
“I can’t believe they’re coming the same week I leave.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “You what?”
“I leave on Friday.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.” She stole the ball and took it the other direction.
“You leave the twenty-seventh.”
“Friday is the twenty-seventh.”
I couldn’t move. It was the first time since I’d met her fifty days before that I thought about her not being around. My heart literally ached.
She stopped running and turned to look at me. “Have you given up?”
I shook my head.
“Then why aren’t you trying to steal the ball?”
“When are you coming back?”
“With the ball?”
“No. To Asheville.”
“Christmas or so.”
August, September, October, November, December. “Five months? Five friggin’ months?”
“I’ll be back for two weeks or so and then go back to Uganda until June.”
“Two weeks? Only two weeks?”
“It’s no different than any other year.”
“Well, are you sure of the dates? I mean, I don’t even know where I’ll be in December. I can call James to find out I guess
.”
Her jaw dropped.
“What?”
“You want to see me? In December?” she asked.
“Don’t you want to see me?”
“Of course. I just…”
I slunk to the ground. “Uganda suddenly feels like it’s a world away.”
“It is a world away,” she said softly.
“I didn’t think about it until now.”
She stood looking across the yard, twisting her foot on the ball of her big toe. “We’re worlds apart, you and me.”
It was like all the energy in my body evaporated. The wind was knocked out of me, and a heavy, depressing reality took its place.
“Do you have a cell phone?” I asked.
“No.”
“A computer?”
“We have a computer in the mission office. I don’t get to use it very often.”
I stood and walked toward the house. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“The Apple website. I’m getting you a laptop.”
“No, you aren’t. I can’t let you do that.”
“As if you get a say.”
She threw the tennis ball and hit me in the back of the head. She had amazing aim, and I now had a headache on top of my shins throbbing.
“I can’t accept something like that, Cabot.”
“Too bad. You’re not going a world away for five freakin’ months and giving me no way to contact you.”
“How much does something like that cost?” she asked as she ran after me.
“None of your business.”
“Cabot, I—” There was a loud popping sound. “Ow! Bollocks.”
I turned and saw her on the ground, holding her ankle. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I fractured it,” she cried.
I ran to her. By the time I was at her side, tears were squirting out of her eyes and she was screaming things in a language I couldn’t understand.
“How did that happen?”
“Blasted hole in the blasted bloody ground. Blinking hell, it hurts.”
“Uh, that’s like six bucks in our potty mouth jar.”
“Bog off!”
“Seven.” I moved her hands out of the way to look at it. Her ankle was already the size of the tennis ball she’d just hit me in the head with. “Holy crap!”
“You’re surprised? I already told you I fractured it, you daft turd.”
“Be nice, or I’ll leave your butt laying out here in the grass to suffer alone.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m an actor. What do you expect? And besides, you’re the one wailing.”
“It bloody hurts!”
I scooped her up in my arms and instantly realized that it was the first time I’d touched her other than shoving each other around during yard ball and shaking her hand when we first met. It felt nice. She felt nice.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered.
She didn’t say another word. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder. I was actually disappointed when we made it to the kitchen and I had to set her onto the counter.
She swung her legs across the granite and stuck her feet in the sink. Her ankle was turning blue and getting even more swollen.
“We need to get you to the emergency room,” I said as I reached into the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen peas.
“We? You can’t go to the emergency room, Cabot. Someone will spot you and the press will swoop in and take over Asheville.”
I put the peas up to her ankle, which caused her to shriek.
“You need help,” I muttered.
“Not from you I don’t.”
“Well, what are we going to do?”
“I’m going to drive myself to the emergency room.”
“How?”
“Very carefully.”
“I can’t let you do that. I’ll take you. I’ll just have to be careful not to be seen.”
“No, Cabot. No. It’s my left ankle. I don’t need it to drive. It will be fine.”
I nervously ran my fingers through my hair as I paced across the kitchen floor. There was no part of me that wanted her going to the hospital alone, but she was right. If the press caught on that I was hiding out in Asheville, I’d never be able to come back under the cloud of secrecy again.
“Cabot, stop pacing, you’re making me sick to my stomach.”
“There’s just got to be a way—”
“There isn’t. All will be fine.”
“Well, do you need money? I mean, do you have insurance?”
“Thanks to Oliver, I have insurance.”
She reached over, shoved the peas out of the way, and winced. “It looks really bad. I need to go now.”
I picked her up again and walked toward the garage. “I feel completely helpless. I can’t even take you to the hospital. I hate my freakin’ life!”
“You don’t hate your life. You just hate that particular part of it.”
“When someone I care about is hurt and I can’t do anything about it, I hate my life. Trust me.”
She reached down and opened the car door. “All’s well, Cabot. It’s all right.”
I set her into the seat and squatted down next to her. “You sure you can do this?”
She nodded and then swung her legs into the car and put the key in the ignition. “In case I wreck on the way there and don’t survive, I’ve had a wonderful time these last two months.”
“Very funny.” I stood up and took a step back. “Just drive carefully please.”
“I will.”
“Especially through the hills and stuff. Go slow.”
“I will.”
“How far away are we talking?”
“Not far. Stop worrying.” She reached out, grabbed the handle, and pulled the car door shut.
While she was gone, I tried occupying my time with television. It was the first time I’d turned it on since getting to Asheville. It didn’t help. Neither did reading. Neither did bird watching, and neither did taking a swim.
What made it worse? She didn’t have a cell phone, and I didn’t think to have her take mine. There was no way for me to know what was going on or if she even made it to the hospital in the first place.
I’m getting the girl a blasted cell phone, which reminds me…
I got on my laptop and ordered her a new Mac laptop and had it shipped overnight. I also ordered her a bag to carry it in, an extra power cable and adapter, an iPod, and a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. The longer she was gone, the more money I spent. I was just about to buy her some new travel books when I heard the garage door opener whirl into action.
I bolted to the garage and made it out the door just as she climbed out of the seat.
“What did they say?”
“Fractured.” She pointed to the crutches in the backseat. “Meet my new companions. Just how in bloody hell am I going to get around Uganda on those? Or around the airports?”
I looked down at the cast on her foot. It reached her knee. “Maybe you need to stay until you can get around better.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a nonrefundable ticket, Cabot.”
“I’ll cover it.”
“Stop. No you won’t.”
I pulled out the crutches and handed them to her. “You can’t function around Africa with those things. There’s no way. You need to stay a little longer. At least until you’re off the cast.”
“That’s more than six weeks away.”
“Perfect.”
She kicked the door shut and starting crutching toward the kitchen. “Cut it out. You’re delusional.”
“I’m not delusional.”
“You’re leaving to go to Vancouver. Oliver and Mariah are going to be gone. What good would it do me to sit in this house for six weeks by myself?”
“Come to Vancouver with me.”
She collapse
d into a chair at the kitchen table and threw her crutches to the ground. “No way.”
“Why not?”
“That’s your world, not mine. I wouldn’t survive it, I assure you.”
“Maybe you’d be surprised. You might actually enjoy it.”
“You don’t even enjoy it. Why in heavens would I?”
She has a point. “Because you’d be with me.”
“I wouldn’t be with you. You’d be off doing film-type things. I’d be stranded in a hotel.”
She was right, and I hated it.
“I’ll be fine. The children will get a laugh of it all.”
“I’ll have my assistant look into getting you an escort at the airports.”
“You sound all celebrity all of a sudden.”
“If I can’t use my power and money to help a friend, then what’s the point of having it?”
She reached over and touched my arm. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“Where’s your ticket? I need to get the information off of it so she can make the arrangements.”
“In a box in my closet.”
“Can I go get it?”
“Sure. If you get me to the couch first.”
“Love to.”
“They gave me a painkiller, and I’m about to nod off.”
I picked her up, carried her to couch, and waited for her to fall asleep before going up to her room. It was only the second time I’d been inside. Nothing had really changed, except now there were pictures of us on her wall among the children she loved so much, most of them from our camping trip or hikes, one of me sitting in the chair in my room with the binoculars to my face.
Box…box…box in closet.
I pulled out the first one that I saw, threw off the top, and spotted an old newspaper article.
“Murder Rocks Small North Carolina Town”
Wrong box.
I almost put the lid back on but spotted another article, and another, and another…
“DeMet Heir and Sons Murdered and Daughter in Fight for Life”
“Miracle Child Faces Horrifying Reality”
“Helen DeMet Claims Temporary Insanity”
“AnnaBeth DeMet to Testify Against Mother in Brutal Slaying of Father and Brothers”
I pushed the papers aside and picked up the first photograph my fingers touched. As soon as I turned it over, I almost threw up. It was a crime scene photograph, two small boys in a pool of blood on the floor. I picked up the next photograph—a man lying face-down in bed. He’d been shot in the head. Another photograph—a pink comforter lying in a hallway. It was drenched in blood. Blood had also sprayed on the walls and on the floor. There was no body. I knew instantly that Kei had once been lying in that hallway and it was her blood that stained it crimson.