Land of Dreams

By Eliza Christine

Beginning, Next Section

Posted on Thursday, 12 April 2001

Author's Note: Welcome to the Congo, a dark jungle of mystery where an ethereal flame burns against time. The journey of Ellie Hastings and William Cathaway explores the struggles of the fledging nation against deep prejudices and misconceptions along with the inner yearnings and complications of the heart. Please note that any seemingly harsh views reflected in the work are not share by the author or her editor, Karin, who has done much in correcting my mistakes concerning its history (oh, and not to mention my grammar!) while encouraging me in this endeavor.

Book I - Sun-Burnt Amber

Chapter One

Prince Albert Airport, Congo, 1959

There were masses of bodies, pushing against one another in Africa's heated flame, and I, Ellie Hastings, was being pushed along with them, carried by the crowd as a bottle through the sea. There was no direction in my movement, no way to fight against the crashing wave, swept by the tide as though I was nothing at all, as though my being here had no affect upon the burning landscape.

If the plane ride over the Atlantic hadn't been long and arduous enough and the flight into the midst of the dark jungle hadn't filled me with absolute wonder and unimaginable terror, then perhaps I wouldn't have moved through this sea with such barbaric rage. It felt as though something seized me and I elbowed and kicked to get my way through... not knowing where I was getting through to. Even as I put all of my strength into the fight, I felt as though I had gone nowhere, my five three frame suppressed against the onslaught.

"Miss Hastings! Miss Hastings!"

I turned at the sound of my name. Which way to turn? Where to look? All I saw were elbows and shoulders, naked legs, a passing blur.

"Mrs. Lowell?" My voice seemed to die in my throat. Perhaps it was the hideous buzz of the airport which filled my ears but I imagined myself burning in hell, not able to escape. I could hear the voice of my savior, calling to me through the darkness but it was out of reach. No matter how hard I fought, I was carried away from the dawn by an inexorable current.

"Mrs. Lowell?" I felt my body tighten in panic. What if I lost her? What if I would never get out? It was silly, really. After all, it wasn't as though I were in the jungle itself.

A hand wrapped itself around my wrist. It was a pale hand, covered with gaudy rings and blue veins. I looked into the hard, ugly face of Katrina Lowell and burst into tears. Never in my life had I felt such a wash of relief come over me, and the salt just ran rivers down my cheeks. I couldn't stop myself and allowed her to lead me to the shore, or rather, a poorly paved road where a Ford Expedition resided. I barely comprehended the situation but was only glad that I was no longer inside where I would surely have been trampled upon without notice.

"We've got all of your luggage, Miss Hastings. You'll be off to Leopoldville in no time. I hope you'll find your rooms comfortable, but I have managed everything already so you won't be in want of anything. I can't imagine what you were thinking coming all the way out here alone. But I guess there's nothing else to do. Somebody's got to teach those Heathens something."

I nodded through my tears. "Of course, and I'm eternally indebted to you for all of your kindness, but they're not Heathens, Mrs. Lowell. They simply haven't been exposed to the word of God or the wonders of democracy. I'm sure that-"

"Oh, you're an idealistic little thing, aren't you?"

Her grip, which moments before had flooded me with relief, had begun to sting. Through my watery eyes, I could see my skin burning a painful red. I tried to say something but she just kept dragging me to that lonely Ford and I scurried my best beside her.

"Nicholas! William!"

From behind the vehicle, two men stepped forward. A rough red-faced beast of a fellow sauntered over to us as I tried desperately to wipe the tears from my eyes. He placed his large hand over mine and shook it ferociously. "Aw, you poor thing!"

"Oh, leave that stuff for later. Miss Hastings, this is my husband, Nicholas Lowell."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," I nodded toward him graciously. He seemed to be a pleasant sort of man despite his intimidating size and his very expression contrasted sharply with his wife who was about ready to snap my arm in two. I could feel the sweat of her hand upon my skin, and I dearly wished she had allowed me to fight on my own.

My eyes traveled toward the man who still stood beside the car. He was facing away from me as though I was of no import. I'm sure he figured I was nothing more than a flimsy girl from Dixie. Humph! Well, let him be then. He was probably carrying the luggage. A porter at most, though his dark slacks and white collared shirt indicated otherwise.

"That's Cathaway," Mr. Lowell offered, as though he read my mind, though he probably just saw my gaze wander in that particular direction. "William Cathaway."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he'll be flying you to and from that notch," commented his wife who seemed annoyed at his audacity to follow through with the introductions.

"The village, you mean."

"Yes, the village," she replied with her teeth grinding against one another.

"Oolongula?"

She rolled her eyes. I didn't know whether to interpret her response as acknowledgement or something else... I didn't get to find out as she dragged me forward again and called out to Cathaway, "William, this is Miss Hastings."

He turned his head for a moment and I was able to glimpse a pair of dark glasses over an elegant straight nose. I wasn't able to figure if he were handsome or not, though I imagined so. I didn't know why I even had such a notion but perhaps the pounding heat had something to do with it. Either way, I decided that this Mr. Cathaway was some arrogant gent if he refused to so much as acknowledge me. Well, I wasn't here for vacation and there was no reason why I should concern myself with the likes of him!

"William will take you to our home and show you around. Nicholas and I have things to do, people to see. Dinner will be in the west wing. Seven 'o clock, sharp."

That was the first time I noticed the sleek black Jaguar within the meager shade available. I watched the odd pair, the condescending petite and the clumsy Lumberjack, make their way over to a piece of luxury which stood out against the African landscape like a goat in Mother's neighborhood soirees. I wanted to chase after them, ask them to take me there themselves. How could they leave me here with this man? He wouldn't even stoop so low as to greet me. A pilot for crying out loud! But they got in without even a glance in my direction, gunned the engine, and were off in a cloud of dust.

The sound of a closing car door caught my attention. He already had the key in the ignition! Fearing that he would leave me to face the crashing waves of the airport once again, I jumped in just as we lurched forward.

Chapter One (cont.)

Posted on Thursday, 19 April 2001

Oh, what a lonely place Africa seemed to be with its twisting roads and dark jungle. I could almost hear it calling out to me in its solitude. The shimmering waves of heat had begun to fade with the light, dissipating into nothingness with a hiss in the air. I turned around to catch a glimpse of the sunset. Would it be any different than the sight I saw each night in Mississippi?

"What are you doing?"

I jumped at the sound. Did he just speak? We had wandered along the roads for over an hour and he had been wordless despite my attempt to reintroduce myself. I was surprised to find that he had a British accent. And yes, he was indeed handsome even if he refused to acknowledge my presence. I spent much of the ride contemplating his profile and wondering what was behind those dark eyes.

"I was going to look at the sunset."

I began to turn again when he interrupted my action. "Why were you crying?"

"Now you want to talk?" I replied, making sure that he heard the annoyance in my voice. I had wanted to refuse him the pleasure of my conversation as repayment for his behavior but when it came down to it, I wanted to have someone to talk to. I wanted to know his story and I wanted to tell him mine.

He simply shrugged in response. I put on my very best pout though I knew he wasn't looking.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

I rolled my eyes. Apparently this man didn't know how to converse properly. It figures someone that handsome was rude and boring! I simply slouched in my seat, a habit which tried Mother's poor nerves. Glancing at him from time to time, I tapped my nails against my arm. Who knows why I waited for him to say something. I knew very well that he would probably keep silent if I didn't either jump out of the car or start talking about goodness knows what, monkeys with blue bottoms perhaps!

I let out a quiet laugh at such a notion. Imagine me coming all the way to Africa so I could talk about monkeys with blue bottoms! Were there any such things in the Belgian Congo?

"I haven't seen any animals."

"You won't."

"Why not?" I sat up and placed my elbow on the armrest and my chin in the palm of my hand. I stared at him unabashedly, studying his strong jawbone and tanned skin.

He glanced over, probably the first time he took his eyes off the road. "What are you doing?"

His voice was glazed over with perturbation, and a smile slowly creep over my face for the first time that day. Good, he knows how I feel!

We continued in this fashion for awhile, with him throwing an occasional glare in my direction and me simply enjoying the view I was taking in, no matter how sour I knew it was on the inside. I could almost see him twitching under my gaze, and it gave me pleasure to know that I finally had the upper hand.

"Didn't you want to see the sunset?"

I rose an eyebrow in his direction. Was he finally breaking down? Suddenly, he hit the brakes and unprepared as I was, I fell across his lap. In that moment of projectile motion, I had managed to grab a hold of him around the waist. Perhaps it was the shock of being thrown across the car or perhaps I was embarrassed at the position I was in, but I didn't get up immediately.

"It's not going to wait for you."

"What?" I muttered as I clumsily tried to get myself in a decent position. Boy, oh boy, if Mother were here to see me sprawled across a man's lap, she would be suffering from a week's worth of nerves!

I watched him open the door and step outside. What was it with that man anyway? After a moment's thought, I decided to follow. If he was going to leave without me, I suppose I could try hanging onto the back bumper.

"Right on time, as always," he said, glancing at his watch.

"What's on time?"

He nodded toward the west and I followed his gaze to catch sight of the African sun burning the sky like a ball of fire. Any traces of azure had vanished into deep amber as the flaming ball made its descent into the horizon. Crimson streaks melded into the vista before the sun began to fade into the distant, leaving the sky to darken purple in its absence.

A sense of awe washed over my entire being. I wanted to say something about the view I had just witnessed but all words seemed insufficient to describe it. Breathtaking, gorgeous, exhilarating. They were all so flimsy, so unsubstantial. I had heard things about Africa. I had heard about the strange culture, the growing prosperity, the humidity, the thick jungle... but never, never had I heard about the sun and its wondrous glory.

Leopoldville

He replied with a deep weariness in his voice, making it clear to me that he considered my conversation to be vexatious and distinctly beneath him. But I suppose complaining would only silence him. Was it simply the British or the man himself?

"You wouldn't know the jungle even existed!" I cried as I eyed the streets of Leopoldville, lined with domestic trees, green lawns and great white mansions.

"Some of them probably don't."

"How could they not know?" I laughed. How did one live in the Belgian Congo and not notice the deep expanse of forest stretching for miles and miles in a dark unknown? How was something so frighteningly enthralling ignored as though it didn't cry out in its oppressive beauty each night?

"Take a good look, Ellen. You see it in their prized rose gardens and their French doors. These people know nothing about Africa."

I bit my lower lip, unable to reply. I never figured myself ignorant but it seemed as though Cathaway was proving otherwise. I crossed my arms, and responded quite childishly, "What, are we on a first name basis now?"

"Would you rather have me call you Miss Hastings?"

"No," I pouted. "It's too stuffy."

I glanced over. It seemed as though we reached another one of those silences which left him driving along with his thoughts and me staring out the window. Not that the view didn't intrigue me. I never imagined Africa to be such... oh, I don't even know! But I was already so alone, and I didn't want to be alone.

"I prefer Ellie."

"And I prefer Will."

"Well, Will, you have a really great jawbone."

He looked at me with that glance of incredulity, as though I had fallen off my wagon once again. I watched his lips twitch and a slow smile spread across his face. It was as wondrous and beautiful as the sun blazing in the amber sky and my ability to describe such a sight was singular in its insufficiency. I felt myself inhale sharply. If I had been standing, I would've been afraid that my knees would've trembled in their utter weakness. He rolled his eyes up for a brief second before he began to laugh. It was the most companionable sound I had heard in a long time.

Chapter One (cont.)

Posted on Sunday, 22 April 2001

Rosings Park, Lowell Residence

"Look at this place!" I breathed, barely speaking above a whisper for fear one of the seven crystal chandeliers would shatter.

The Lowells had a massive house of impressive grandeur from the outside with its marble pillars and diamond panes, but I never imagined the entrance would lead me to a white granite floor which opened to a wide hallway of no particular use, simply adorned with expensive relics of some European period of yore. The staircase curved from both sides, lined with blood red velvet and delicately carved with meticulous designs beyond my understanding. The walls boasted paintings and trappings framed with gold or lined with silk while an intricate carpet with deep hues of flaming crimson and orange contrasted with the cool flooring.

"They're filthy rich, aren't they?" Will practically bellowed, his voice bouncing eloquently off the high ceilings and mosaic walls. "And I emphasize the word filthy."

"You may repeat such a statement, Will."

I let out a shriek of surprise at the odd voice I had heard to my right. It was a strange French accent with perfect English punctuality. I imagined I would find some motherly housekeeper beside me but instead, there was a willowy girl with coffee skin and wild eyes of a clear aquamarine, flecked with gold.

"I did not mean to frighten you, mademoiselle." She held out her hand to me expectantly. Did she want something?

"Don't worry about it, Leah. I'll do it myself."

"Oh, will you, Monsieur Cathaway?" She rose an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "The last time you took a lady's luggage to her room-"

"Don't you have any potatoes to peel?"

"No, but I have a chicken to pluck." Leah threw a sardonic smile in Will's direction before she curtsied toward me, her eyes flickering with some hidden amusement. "Watch out for that one. He is the heart of Africa itself and that is a hard thing to control. It enchants you before you can enchant it."

Chapter One (cont.)

Posted on Sunday, 29 April 2001

Delicate lace and priceless china adorned the long mahogany table while silver candlesticks stood in the center, flickering softly in the dim. The room was fit for an entire trough of guests. Fifty at least! With all the trimmings of a seven course meal, why, I could've been sitting at the governor's table! The only exception would be... well, the society.

I was hard press upon asking myself what society. Instead of lively bantering and the occasional flying chicken wing, I had the condescending chatter of Katrina Lowell, who sat at the head of the table throwing out her whims and demands. Meanwhile, the Lumberjack would nod upon a regular basis, making me wonder if 'Lady Kat,' as I addressed her in my inner monologue, ever knew or cared about her husband's stupor when she talked.

A loud snicker brought my attention to the flimsy girl on my left. She was introduced to me as Anne Lowell, the only product of Nicholas and Katrina's marriage. Though she looked about fifteen at most, she was my senior by several years. Schooled in some private snot university on the East Coast, Anne boasted a B.A. in Accounting and a Masters in Mathematics. She returned to Africa after her stint in the U.S. to learn the 'family business.' I found her to be an odd heir apparent, but it was clear to me that I was in an odd place with odd people.

"William! You finally decided to join us!"

Even in the obscurity of the candlelight, I could see how handsome he looked. Dinner, as I had been informed, was a formal affair, regardless of my presence. Lady Kat had decked herself in ostentatious jewels and a dark affair covered with black sequins. Mr. Lowell squeezed himself in a black suit, which displayed not only his ankles but his continuous accumulation of width along his waistband. Anne, much like her mother, wore a black dress, long and flowing though loose upon her small thin frame. It made her swallow skin seem sickly and yellow in contrast.

I, myself, only had a pea cream dress with a white sash around the waist. It fell around mid-calf and buttoned along the front. It was a summer dress which I wore on occasion to Sunday church and in Mississippi, it would've been considered an original. Here, it seemed like it had been pulled off the sales rack at the corner store. My embarrassment caused a blush to overspread my checks as Will sat across from me, pulling the lapels of his black coat together.

"I apologize for my tardiness." His voice was stiff and formal, making me forget how it sounded when he had teased me earlier that day for my offensive naivete.

Lady Kat waved him off. "We weren't going to discuss anything important anyway. Just Miss Hastings."

I saw him pause, his forehead furrowing at her dismissal of me. Before he could respond, she leaned forward and cackled as though I wasn't sitting within five feet of her, "What do you think of her coming all the way out here by herself anyway?"

"She was either very brave or very stupid in doing so."

I gasped at Anne's sharp comment. Her hard eyes were focused on Will who glared at her ferociously. I felt sick.

"How old are you?"

Her gaze made me cower and the low tremble of her voice echoed within the room. I answered her within the folds of my napkin but she wasn't satisfied.

"Miss Hastings, am I to repeat myself? Why, I go out of my way to house you and provide you with-"

"I'm twenty-three, Mrs. Lowell."

"Have you been to college?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"The local university."

"Oh, I see..." She tapped her fork against the china plate before her. "And you're from Mississippi?"

"Yes."

"I don't hear that particular accent associated with such people."

"That particular accent?" I almost choked. The combination of the rich food and innuendoes thrown in my direction made my stomach turn. Clearly, she was drawing a line between me and her, making sure my inferiority stood out with jagged edges. But what could I do? How could I possibly dare fight back?

"She was probably brought up in the northern part of the state," Will interjected. His dark eyes turned toward me. "Weren't you?"

I nodded meekly in response.

"Well, what was your employment before you decided to come here?"

"I worked on my father's farm."

"Did you?" she drawled out as though she expected such an answer. "Why did you decide to leave?"

"Why else?" boomed Mr. Lowell, "She's here on a mission. She'll be doing what them missionaries do, teach those natives how to appreciate us."

I let out a sigh of relief as I was exempted from answering Lady Kat. I didn't intend to tell anyone why I was out here, not even Will. It was too embarrassing and seeing as I was the odd one out, I was keeping this secret all to myself. No one would know, no one would ever know the truth.

I could hear my footsteps echo along the hall. Sparkling with antiquity in the light, the house seemed cold and impersonal in the eve as the shadows creep along the walls. I held myself tighter as I counted the doors. One, two...

"I hope you're finding everything to your satisfaction, Miss Hastings."

My heart jumped to my throat as I spun around to come face to face with Anne.

"Anne, you scared me half to death!"

"Did I?" Her dark eyes narrowed, reminding me of rattlesnakes before they struck. I could almost hear the hiss in her voice. "You don't belong here, Ellen."

"I'm sorry if yo-"

"You don't even know what you're doing." Turning on her heel, she left me in the dark hallway.

Pemberley Spitfire, Cathaway's single engine plane

I pressed my forehead against the glass as we left the runway and swirled toward the heavens in a cloud of dust. The airport, with its oppressive swelling, made me recall my appearance in this dark continent a mere two days ago. It wasn't so bad going through the crowds with Will holding my hand. His grasp was firm and secure and I simply clutched onto him.

My eyes wandered beyond the airport, which was gradually diminishing in size as we climbed toward the sky. An endless wave of dark trees, entangled with one another and fighting for light, filled the scene. You almost forgot that any civilization existed. Perhaps, in the Congo, so much was true but not in the Belgian Congo. Not in the neighborhoods of families such as the Lowells.

"How can you stand them?"

"Because people like that run the show, and if you want to make it on stage, you let them do as they please."

I looked over, his hair carelessly combed and falling into his eyes. I reached over to push it back. "You don't even know who I'm talking about."

"Of course, I do. Who else would you talk about?"

Well, no one could say William Cathaway wasn't smug! And when he was around me, he tended to turn it up a notch or two. Instead of reliving the cold treatment which I should've 'graciously' received, I pushed myself up and wandered toward the back of the plane, ignoring his comment.

"Careful you don't fall if we have some turbulence."

"Why would you care?"

"I don't want to deal with a girl sobbing over a scrapped knee."

"I don't cry over scrapped knees."

"You cried over something."

I knew he was referring to my tears when we first met, but what could I say to him? Did he understand the apprehension I felt in being a white girl surrounded by a different race of people? Did he understand the discomfort, which rushed through me when I brushed past them? Was it so bad that I was intimidated? Somehow, I knew that Will would've found such a thought offensive so I kept it to myself.

"Pemberley Spitfire," I traced the words in black paint along the upper frame of the pit. "That's a curious name for a plane."

"Do you know what a Spitfire is?"

"It's a fighter plane."

"From the Second World War. My father flew one of those."

"Oh? But where does the fi-"

"The family estate."

I nodded toward him, indicating that I wanted to hear more. Funny thing but he had come to understand my vague signals and on occasion, he would humor me by following through.

"It's located in Derbyshire. Beautiful country. Rolling hills, thick woods, even a pond where we would spend our summer days."

"Is it yours?" I asked as I returned to my seat.

"Put on your seatbelt." He reached over to pull it over my lap and clicked it in place.

"I'm sure I was perfectly capable of doing that."

"Sorry, it's just that Blair-" He paused suddenly, staring toward his left so I couldn't see his face. His perfect jawbone contracted, as though he was clenching his teeth. "Just used to it, I guess. Anyway, the estate is in my name but my sister is the real master of the place."

"Is her name Blair?"

"No," he replied uneasily. "It's...um, it's James."

"James?" I asked, doing my best to ignore his apparent discomfort. "She has a boy's name?"

"There have been men named Marie."

"In the eighteenth century. Why is she running the place?"

"Because I'm in Africa," he mocked.

"Well, why are you here flying planes when you have this beautiful estate in England?"

"Because you need help surviving the Congo, kid."

"I don't need your help!" I cried defensively.

"Are you sure about that?" he replied cheekily. "Maybe I should send you out to the jungle and come back in a week. Let's see what you'll say after that."

I grabbed a book from the floor and hit him across the head.

Rubbing the back of his cranium, he made a face in my direction. "Why can't you be so forward with Mrs. Lowell as you are with me?"

"Why can't you?"

"At least I don't cower in her presence."

"It's hard not to cower in her presence."

"It's hard not to spit in her face."

"Then why don't you?"

"She's family."

"Oh..." I groaned in disgusted realization. Family! How was that even possible? Will could be surly sometimes, but he was nothing like the Lowells! And nothing in physical similarity, thank goodness.

"You've got to learn how to stick up for yourself, Ellie."

"I'm doing fine."

"With me you're doing a hell of a job, but I'm talking about the rest of the world." He reached over and pulled the book I had hit him with out of my hands. "Be careful with that."

I took it away from him in return. "You should be focused on flying the plane. Anyway, what's so special about this old book?"

I turned the worn cover over. It was a dark red leather with a frayed gold thread binding. I pulled the cover back to reveal an elegant script. Peering closer, I read the inscription on the first page:

To my dearest Will,
May you always remember me as I am at this moment for time is the only thing that will not change. It sweeps through this land of dreams and carries us toward our destinies. Evol raef reven.

Blair

I closed the book and gently put it on the floor of Pemberley. Glancing over, I could not discern whether he had seen me or not, so I simply turned in my seat and looked out the window. I was not without a few questions, but it was apparent that 'Blair' had an important place in his life. Who was she? And what had happened?

Chapter Two

Posted on Thursday, 10 May 2001

Six miles west of Oolongula

As my eyes captured the field of dry dirt, surrounded by nothing but thick jungle, I asked over the roar of the descending plane, "Where's the village?"

"It's several miles west."

"Then what are we doing landing here?"

"Did you expect to land in the middle of Oolongula?"

We circled this region of nowhere, kicking up dirt like mad so I could barely see anything but a billowing brown dust. I jerked forward as the wheels touched the surface of the earth and I held tight to my seatbelt as we came to a halting stop.

"Sorry."

"I'm sure you were," I muttered under my breath. We waited in silence as the dust settled down. Will didn't seem to initiate conversations much and I wasn't in the mood to bring up a topic which he would either dance around or I myself didn't want to discuss. I climbed out of the plane while he took a pack from under his seat and strapped it onto his back.

"Take off your shoes."

"Why?"

"You can't walk in those."

I stopped to bend over and pull them off when I caught sight of the winding trail. How was I supposed to walk without them? "And why not?"

"If you want to find out, go ahead then."

"Fine, I will!"

We struck out in a quick pace. His long strides forced me to scurry after him, trying not to stumble or break my heels against any stray trunks or vines. A silence loomed between us and the echoes of the forest deafened my labored breathing. Under the thick foliage, the sun itself disappeared from view. It was as though we were walking along a deserted road at night...in a land so strange it filled me with a thrill of terror.

"We have a schedule to follow. It should take us about two hours to get to the village, no more. By that time, it'll be around noon and you'll have your class for about twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes!"

"What did you expect, Ellie? A three hour session?"

"Well, no...But c'mon, Will, how am I suppose to teach them anything in twenty minutes? I'm only scheduled to be here once a week."

"That's not my problem. Anyway, your French is a little shaky. I heard you addressing Leah this morning and it sounded like you were slurring through your greetings."

"What does my French have to do with anything?"

Will halted abruptly in his trek, allowing me to catch up. It wasn't fair that guys would naturally have more sensible shoes on. He stared at me for a good while before shaking his head and resuming his walk. "I can't believe this."

"What?"

"You can't speak French." It was a statement rather than a question.

"No," I replied cautiously. Why would that matter? So, I couldn't speak French but there was certainly nothing wrong with my English.

"The villagers have their own native tongue."

"French?"

He shot me a look which told me my comment had been stupid. I dropped back a little. I guess William Cathaway was wrong. I wasn't always so forward with him as I had hoped to pass myself off as.

"At Oolongula, they speak Kikongo, but some of the natives, particularly the chief and Meesh's students are capable of understanding French."

"Meesh?"

"The school teacher. You'll meet him. He is the only one who can speak English."

"Oh..."

"You're in for it, Ellie."

"You can say that again," I muttered more to myself than him. While he maintained his pace, I took off my shoes and walked, or rather, ran after him barefooted. There was at least an inch of mud on the heels and with each step, I was practically sucked into the damp dirt. I felt the mud going between my toes and thought, this was the Congo pulling me in. It encompassed me in every which way and the only thing I could do was let it swallow me whole.

I had begun to slide along the mud, and it was beyond my control to move properly. I felt like Alice in Wonderland as I tried to make my way to Will but found myself hardly capable of keeping my balance.

"What's wrong?"

"You try doing this barefooted!"

"Stop moving," he muttered.

Easier said than done. As I straightened up, I felt myself fall backwards and I was prepared to be slick with mud until Will picked me up in one swift motion and swung me over his shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"We should've been there by now."

"So, you're going to carry me all the way to Oolongula?"

"No, just across the river."

"Why?"

"Because it's difficult," he mumbled under his breath.

"I'm perfectly capable of crossing a river...even if it's difficult."

"I didn't say you couldn't cross it," he replied, his voice low and strange.

"Then why don't you put me down?" Did he think I was too weak to withstand a mere strait of brown water?

"Okay," he replied in the same tone, making my stomach knot with uneasiness. Before I could figure out his scheme, he dropped me in the water without ceremony. The rush of coldness startled me to no end and as I fumbled for my bearings, I grabbed his arm for support. His entire frame was shaking with infuriating laughter as I screamed, "What did you do that for?"

With a cry of anger, I tackled him with all my might. We came up, spitting water with our clothes billowing with trapped air. He was still laughing, his eyes crinkling in the corners and his grin wide and boyish. Making my way over with lots of splashing, I gave him another good push.

Chapter Three

Posted on Sunday, 20 May 2001

While the path had lessened in dampness as we left the river behind, I was not without complaints. The mud had caked along my legs, leaving them coated by a brittle grayish-green.

"Muck."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm covered in muck," I pouted, looking at my far from presentable state. The tail of my splotched blouse hung over my torn skirt. My hair had long escaped its low bun and the straps of my shoes hung lazily from my wrist. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, "I probably smell too."

"So that explains the stench," Will replied in mock realization.

"Are we there yet?" I whined, ignoring his last remark.

"Know not I do."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I don't know." He shrugged.

Know not I do? I had suspected as much, but now it was confirmed. William Cathaway had a loose nut in his head.

"Another mile, maybe."

"How do you know?"

His arm swept along the scenery, and I could perceive the diminishing thickness of the forest. It seemed as though the vines had untangled and pulled back and the trees had swept away from the path. The trail widened along the bend, revealing patches of sunlight penetrating the high canopy. We were coming back to the day.

"I've never seen such large vegetation. Do you think we can grow things like this back in the States?" I reached out to a peculiar plant, with dark specks. Will instantly jerked my hand back.

"Don't touch that!"

I wrestled my arm from his painful grasp. "What's your problem?"

"You're going to get yourself sick in a place like this," he mumbled, glaring at me hard. Before I could so much as reply, he pulled me forward, practically dragging me behind him. Perhaps he wasn't so different from Lady Kat.

"Mr. Cathaway, if you think I'm going to take this treatment from you, then you better think twice. I'm going to request for another-"

"Request for another what?" He pulled me close, his face inches from mine. I could catch his scent. Musty and sweet. Africa itself.

"Request for an-other, request for..." I felt my throat go dry at his proximity. My head seemed to spin in circles, colors flying dizzyingly in front of my eyes. There was a deep depth to his hazel pools which mesmerized me, and I barely remembered what it was like to breathe.

He stepped back, pulling a prescription bottle from his pocket. He shook out two white pills, popping one in his mouth before turning toward me. "Open your mouth."

"What is it?" I asked uncertainly.

"Malaria pill."

The word malaria caused an instant reaction. I opened my mouth obediently as he placed it on my tongue. I swallowed hard. Malaria! Why hadn't I thought of that? What other diseases were out here? What would've happened if I touched that strange plant? A wave of fear rushed through me and I grabbed onto Will's arm, looking at him with frightened eyes. "You're going to watch out for me, aren't you?"

"Don't worry about it," he said, shaking his head sadly. He placed a comforting arm around me and we continued on. "Anyway, it's too late for you to teach that class. We'll find Meesh and have a laugh at this adventure of yours."

"It's not funny, Will."

"I'm sure you're laughing on the inside. I certainly am."

Oolongula

A huge path of dry dirt snaked through the village, twisting among the dilapidated housing and disappearing into the merciless forest. The grass fields, tall and intimidating, grew over mud buildings with frail roofs threatening to fall in and the ugly river running along the back seemed to be in its own sickness.

"There's a suspension of time on this place."

I nodded in agreement.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Did he mean that? There was a wistful tone in his voice which told me he had been sincere, but how was this sorrowful sight beautiful? Granted, there was something about the way the trail wound its way through the forest to this little piece of time but Oolongula, as far as I could see, was no paradise lost.

"Cadeau! Cadeau!" A swarm of naked, black children ran toward us, holding out their hands. They jumped about, screaming their strange phrase. I clutched onto Will in my surprise. Why, there was barely a scratch of clothing on them, and those who did have something on weren't covering much of anything anyway.

"What do they want?" I whispered against his ear.

"Ellie, you can speak louder. They don't understand."

"Oh."

"Could you get off me for a second?"

I nodded but didn't extract myself from him.

"Ellie..."

I backed away, cautious of stepping upon a bare foot or being trodden under by this exuberant crowd. I found, once I had separated myself from Will, they left me alone, allowing me to observe their bellies bulging with hunger, their legs and arms mere sticks, and their skin hanging loosely upon their skeletal frames.

Will bent down, facing them at eye level. Making strange clucking sounds and speaking quick phrases foreign to my ears, he handed them white packets. Medicine? I wasn't sure but they seemed quite excited about it all and ran down the sloping hill toward the river, crying out and giggling, waving to him as they left.

"What did you give them?" I asked, walking up as the last remaining children left.

"Cocoa," he replied, handing me that mysterious white parcel. The words 'Carnation' ran across the middle with the symbolic red flower. Packets of powdered cocoa.

"I though you were handing out medicine."

"I was."

"Powdered cocoa doesn't seem like medicine to me."

"It depends on how you look at it."

Chapter 3 (continued)

Posted on Monday, 4 June 2001

"The school house is next to the meeting square," he said, pointing toward a stone wall encircling dry dirt.

"That's the meeting square?"

He nodded with an affirmative before bringing my attention to a mud building which looked about the same size as all the other surrounding structures. Its roof caved in along its northern side, with straw sliding along the other end. A wooden door, battered and torn by rain and wear, fell crookedly in its frame.

"The school?" I asked in dismay.

"There's not many students to teach," Will replied matter-of-factly.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, turning to him, squinting against the harsh Congo light.

He simply shrugged his shoulders. "They're preparing for your arrival. Though they probably don't realize you're a woman."

"Is there something wrong with being a woman?" I pouted hard. No matter where I went, there was always some perception of the female gender. And it wasn't a kind reflection either.

"I rather like women, Ellie," Will sighed, placing his hands up in resignation. "But it wasn't too long ago, I expected some Southern Baptist reverend with a Colgate family. That's what these people are expecting too."

"Lady Ka-, I mean, Mrs. Lowell didn't inform you it was just me?" I furrowed my brow in curiosity.

"No, I was rather surprise Lady Kat (I blushed in embarrassment) would support any sort of missionary at all."

"Why do you think she decided to take me in, then?"

We walked through the threshold, with Will ducking low to avoid the top beam. It felt like a magical shade compared to the sticky heat of the Congo sun. The perspiration, sizzling on my pale skin before, seemed to cool into droplets like morning dew.

"I'm not sure..." he said carefully, in slow measure, as though he was choosing his words with extra care.

Before I could demand an explanation, however, a man of impressive build came toward us, emerging from the shade like a lumbering giant. He smiled, showing a gap placed strategically between his two front teeth. "Tata Cathaway!"

His voice trembled with surprising softness and his dark eyes, round and wet, focused on Will as he walked up to us. He took his hand and shook it vigorously.

"You look well."

"I suppose this mud is rather attractive, don't you think?" Will replied, lifting his caked trousers for inspection. "But it's good to see you, Meesh. As always."

Meesh nodded before turning toward me. How was this man possibly the schoolteacher? Why, he was frightfully tall, towering over me like some looming black shadow. I creep back unconsciously, intimidated by his domineering presence.

"And who is this beautiful woman?"

I blushed, my surprise at such a flattering address burning upon my cheeks.

"Oh...that's Ellie," Will replied hesitantly. My eyes flickered toward him. Was he embarrassed by me? I wasn't sure what to make of his inhibited stance. I suppose I could've interpreted it as the former but somehow, I knew that I couldn't judge Will on one particular remark or oddity. His character was complex and I had yet to figure out much of the puzzle.

"And..." Meesh cocked his head to the side, blinking with curiosity and confusion.

"She's here for the mission."

"Excuse me?"

"Will?" I pulled on his sleeve, feeling like a child for depending on him so. Everything was so strange and new. It was unexpected. What had I been thinking coming all the way here? I didn't think that I would be so lost. But really, was it possible for me not to be? How was someone like me, who never fit in, suppose to find acceptance in something that couldn't be understood?

"What is it, Ellie?" He turned toward me expectantly, sweat dripping generously down the sides of his face. I took my sleeve to wipe it off but he turned away angrily. The crowd of men behind him started clucking their tongues as he glowered at me.

"Um, don't you think..." My mind went blank. Did I do something wrong to provoke their laughter? Had I made another faulty step that I was completely ignorant of? "What if we miss dinner?"

Without bothering to answer me, he spoke to the cluttered crowd of natives in their strange tongue with deep throaty noises and wide arm gestures. In return, they chortled with their wide mouth filled with ivory teeth or none at all. Mostly the latter.

I sat along the brick wall, my skin flaming with the absorbed heat. I felt my head pounding in vain, as the world swept by me. Ever since the natives learned of my arrival, they looked at me with slants. Literally. They would turn their heads to a side and walk around me slowly, as though I were some empty Coke bottle they hadn't seen before. I was just waiting for one of them to poke my arm or something. It was as though my white flesh were some queer mirage. Like a red eclipse which you couldn't tear your eyes from though it sent these chills straight through you that made the earth seem to shutter.

The woman at the fire lifted the kettle with her strong arms and I had to look away. Yes, the sun was burning slowly though me, but my goodness, I kept my clothes on. What would my mother have done if she were here? I could imagine her brewing up a storm of nerves at all this nakedness. She would be raging mad trying to cover everyone and make sure they looked presentable.

All the men had on some sort of clothing that wrapped along the bottom portion of their body though some didn't cover as much as I would've certainly preferred. But then the women...They walked about in their skirts and well...that was it. Why, they were pretty much loose and fancy-free! Other than me and Will, it seemed as though Meesh was the only one fully dressed.

He walked up to me as I was breathing through my mouth. Or doing my best at it to say the least. Whatever they were cooking seemed to have rotted in the sun for a good couple of weeks, believe you me. He sat beside me as I puffed in and out.

"What are you doing?" he smiled with his gaping teeth.

"Breathing."

"You do it rather loudly."

"Can't a girl breathe loud?"

"Á bu, Will said you had a problem with that."

"A problem with what?" I turned toward him, peaked by curiosity. My breathing exercise left behind me, completely forgotten.

"I should not tell you such things."

"No, really."

"Do you promise not to get me in trouble?"

"Yes," I replied readily.

"He says you have women issues." As I opened my mouth to protest, Meesh held his hand up. "Let me continue, Ellie. He doesn't mean it in that way. He only told me that you were rather defensive about women rights. And he was worried about how it will go about here."

"What do you mean?"

"He..." Meesh glanced over at Will, making sure he was ignorant of our conversation. His black pools turned back to me, meeting my gaze steadily. Chuckling quietly, he said slowly "That man is very sensitive, though he does not show it. He says you will not like the treatment you will receive for being a woman. You see, in Oolongula, as in your country, women are below men. Now, you are fighting for suffrage. But there is no suffrage here. You will be treated and looked upon not only as a white but a white woman."

I blinked. Meesh smiled apologetically, but I didn't know what to make of it. How was I going to be actually treated? For the most part, I was ignored. Would I be ignored by the students as well?

"I can't speak French," I blurted out as he stood up.

"Do you speak any other languages?"

I turned my head slowly.

He bit his full lower lip in thought, his eyes no longer trained on my face but on the dirt beside him. "It is a good thing you missed today. We will figure something out."

"Ready to eat?" Will hollered in our direction as he walked toward us with two clay bowls and a large wooden spoon.

"Indeed I am," replied Meesh as he nodded his head to both Will and me before heading off to retrieve his share.

Will held the bowl in front of me. The stench was overwhelming as it hit my nostrils.

"What is it?"

"A buck. They killed it a week ago."

So it was a week old... "Do you really expect me to eat that?"

"They killed it in your honor." He sat in the spot Meesh had recently vacated. I took the bowl from his hand, looking at that clump of meat that resembled a ball of wet brown flour.

"Was it dead before they killed it?"

Will smirked in response. "We're leaving in an hour. It'll take us two to three hours to make the walk back and at least half an hour in flight before we get to Prince Albert's. Then, it's a long drive back to the Leopoldville. You haven't eaten since seven this morning, Ellie."

"Somehow, I forgot I was hungry, Will."

"C'mon, one bite for a good show, huh?"

I nodded as he placed the spoon in my hand. "Where's your spoon?"

"You're the special guest. You're the only one with a spoon."

Taking a glance around, I saw that I was indeed the only one with any utensils at all. Some of them didn't even have bowls. They just grabbed a chunk of meat and ate away. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. The putrid stench, reaching my nostrils, made the bile rise straight clear to my throat. I opened one eye. "Could you pinch my nose for me?"

He nodded and did as he was told. Clumsily, I sunk my spoon into the meat and faithfully, took a huge bite.

Afterwards, as I was throwing up by the river, with Will holding my hair back, I could still taste the meat (if I could properly call it that) in the back of my throat. No amount of spitting would get rid of its bitter flavor and I wasn't sure if I wanted to try that brown water. I sank into the long elephant grass and wiped my eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"I'm not helping, am I?"

"Not if you answer a question with a question."

Will moved over next to me, pushing my hair from my forehead and placing it behind my ear. His eyes seemed so dark and deep, as though they would go on forever. I swallowed hard as his finger lazily traced my jawbone.

"Ellie, this is no place for you. You should go home."

"I'm tired of people telling me to do that. I won't go home."

"I know." Will sighed, "You're as stubborn as a mule."

"Hey, that's a Southern expression," I smiled at the sound of his voice trying to adapt to our long drawls.

"I'm going to help you. I will," he said, leaning in close. "It's not going to be easy, and I mean all of it. The Lowells, the village, the school. You're in over your head. But you're courageous, I have to give you that."

I replied with a lazy smile. I felt so heavy... I just wanted to close my eyes and rest for awhile. Will's voice was smooth and soft, so relaxing, trembling like the waves gently lapping the shore at night. Only, it was still afternoon and instead of that dark night, these bright colors swam in front of me. He sounded so far off.

"...It's going to be alright, Ellie. You're going to make it. I'll make sure of that..."

I snuggled closer to him, resting my head against his chest. I felt his arm come around my back, pulling me toward him.

"...I'll get you back home safely. That's a promise. And maybe, you can put this all behind you..."

I nodded gently against him. And like a whisper of the wind, a murmur never meant to be heard, "...because I certainly can't."

Chapter 4

Posted on Saturday, 23 June 2001

Rosings Park, Lowell Residence

The linens hung along the clothesline, fluttering in the breeze. They wanted to fly. Fly for freedom. Reach out to that endless blue sky and billow idly with the clouds.

"Hope is the thing with feathers," I said quietly to myself as I pulled a clothespin out of my mouth and clipped the wings of a bed sheet. No flying for this bird. There was nowhere to go and even as the wind swept it off its feet, there was something holding it back. Holding it down.

"It perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words-"

"-And never stops at all," finished Leah, placing another load on the grass.

"You know Emily Dickinson?" I asked incredulously. Each day, I was astonished by this girl, five years my junior. Not only did she single-handily run the estate, but she was fluent in three languages, sharp in wit, and always running about with that wicked smile of hers.

"You make it sound like this impossible thing," she remarked while flinging a sheet over the line.

"Not impossible...only..." I shook my head. "You know so much."

"I learned most of it from Will."

I rose a curious eyebrow.

"I am not saying it is all because of him. It certainly is not." She went down the line, turning her huge stack of labor into nothingness. "He is a great reader. He gave me much of his books and stole some from the library so I could read them. It is through him that I learned to perfect my English, and it is through him, I began to learn about other things."

"Other things?"

"Exusez-moi, I have another load to finish." Leah smiled, her hidden secret dancing from her eyes to the corner of her lips as usual.

I shrugged my shoulders as she returned to her MayTag washer. On the surface, Leah was direct, straight to the point. But as we interacted more and more, I found that there were many things she didn't say, or rather, things she said in-between the lines that I didn't catch. I turned heavenward and my lips silently moved, "I've heard it in the chilliest land...and on the strangest sea...."

Pemberley Spitfire

"You seem excited."

"I am!" I replied with ample exuberance. I didn't know what filled me with a greater sense of contentment: preparing for my lessons or leaving the Lowells behind. "Did you bring the beef jerky?"

He laughed at the concern in my voice. "What if I told you I left it behind?"

"I would've told you I brought a pound bag of trial mix with me in case you made me eat buck again."

"You should try goat."

I made a face in true disgust. If buck tasted so horribly, I could only imagine what a goat would taste like. It made me sick in the stomach.

"Are you bringing anything for them?"

"I always do."

"Okay." I paused. "How are the children going to understand me?"

"They won't."

"Seriously."

"I am serious."

Meesh's classroom, Oolongula

Will's voice rose angrily above the noise, causing the boys to scramble back to their seats. The flying balls of paper and chatter came to a sudden halt. A suspension of air. A sudden withdrawal of Old Time. All their coffee eyes turned toward me.

I felt myself quiver. My heart pounding hard against my chest. Everything seemed to have slowed down except the blood rushing through my veins. I forgot to breathe. "Go-good morning, class."

The words rushed out of me, as though they had prohibited my lungs from expansion. Will translated beside me while Meesh stood at the back of the room, watching me with an intent gaze. I closed my eyes briefly to get my courage up. Who would've though teaching the Gospel and democracy to a scantly group of nine boys was so difficult?

"I'm Ellie Graves." I came to a sudden standstill as soon as those words rolled off my tongue. My goodness! How did that name get pass my lips? I saw Will's look of curiosity and felt myself stumble for words. The horrible dryness of my mouth was itching inside of me as beads of sweat poured down my face. I couldn't think. Say something! Say something, Ellie!

Will began to speak. Most of it I couldn't understand, but he introduced me as Ellen Hastings. Madame Hastings. His French was quick, without hesitation, as though he had spoken it his entire life. The children didn't seem to have any trouble following along. They were in rapture with what he said, whatever it was. He turned back to me. "Ellie?"

I swallowed hard and tried to smile but failed. Shakily, I walked over to a worn map of the world. Other than a desk with a small clutter of books, the aforementioned map, and eight seats for nine children, the room had little resemblance to any class I ever attended. But then, these children had little resemblance to any classmates I ever had as well. Placing my finger on the United States, I fitfully tried to recall the speech I practiced over the last week. "This is the United States of America. It's a country of freedom, of democracy, and God. It's the nation of my birth, where no man goes hungry and everyone is allowed to pursue their dreams...The opportunities that one has in this nation are infinite. There are no limits to the possibilities. It is under our great President, whom we elect through a democratic voting process, that the American people live their lives as they do. And it is under God, our faithful Father, that we all live with meaning. He is our protector..."

My voice strangled within itself and I couldn't go on. Protector. Why, where was He in this land? Why wasn't He protecting these poor boys? These people with only scraps of clothing and bulging stomachs. That was why I was here, though, wasn't it? I was here in God's name. I looked toward Will, allowing him to make the translation. As I watched him, I wonder what he was truly saying. Was he passing on my message or giving his own? Why didn't I trust him in this situation when I trusted him so explicitly in everything else?

Rosings Park

"I want to know!"

"And I won't tell you. Isn't that enough of an answer for you?" His dark eyes glimmered, pleading with me to leave it alone but I couldn't.

"If you lied, then I want to know what it is you said." I stomped my right foot down, trying to indicate that I would not budge. Unfortunately, it resulted in a sharp pain shooting up my ankle. "Owww..."

"Ellie..." Will began through muffled laughter. "We'll talk about this after dinner. I promise."

"How conveniently you manage to get out of this!"

"William! Where are you?" Lady Kat's voice split through the mansion.

"See? The nyoka calls."

"What does that mean?"

"I'll tell you later," he mumbled into my ear as he lead me into the dining room.

I was about to make a snappy response but we had already swept through the French doors where Lady Kat and her minions sat.

"Where were you?" Mrs. Lowell demanded, her voice pitched high with anger. Her husband was looking longingly at the roasted chicken, only concerned with his growing stomach while Anne shared her mother's countenance, her hard eyes focused on Will's arm linked with mine.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lowell, but I was-"

"I wasn't talking to you."

"No, but I was responding to you," I stated, trying to keep my voice steady and assertive, though my knees wobbled beneath me. You're not her rug, Ellie! Don't let her step all over you!

"Excuse me?"

"My apologies, Aunt Katrina, but I was late and asked Miss Hastings to wait for me."

"No, Will, I-"

He shot me a look which silenced my protest. How could he tell me to be brave when it was he who wouldn't let me follow through? I wanted to stand on my own two feet. I knew I had trouble. I was always fidgeting with a want for dependency but I was doing it. I was speaking out against her, and then...

"Well, don't stand there all day! C'mon, let's eat," Mr. Lowell exclaimed. Even the Lumberjack had lessened in my opinion. All his kindness and good will evaporated like water on a hot day. It was as though one good impression was enough and there was no need to continue with the charade.

I took the seat furthest from everyone, next to Will.

"Afraid to seat next to me, Ellie?"

I looked at Anne's curving mouth. She wanted me to cower under her hard eyes and sharp tongue. A biting comment already on her lips.

"No, I just like real company."

"Miss Hastings! How dare you make a remark such at that! What has gotten into you? Selfish, inconsiderate girl! I'll show you who's master of this house!"

"Mr. Lowell by all rights and concern if he could get out of his seat!"

Will stood between me and Lady Kat. Her veins ran blue, and her face was purple with rage. She had never looked so ugly. I was waiting for her hair to stand up on end and it was then I felt the fear creep through me. What was I thinking? Why did I say such things? This wasn't me!

"I'll take care of it," Will said forcibly as he jerked me away.

"Be careful she doesn't bite you," Anne threw as we left the room.

"What were you thinking?" The anger in his voice trembled for control.

"Wasn't it you who told me to stand up for myself?" I replied softly.

"It doesn't help when you answer questions with questions," Will sighed, letting go of my hand and running it through his dark hair.

We were in the midst of this quiet clearing, off a lane of tall domestic trees. But there was something wild about this area. Tangling vines and large vegetation. It was the Congo fighting to survive in this white world.

"Where did you ever find this place?" I breathed.

He looked around. "I don't know."

"Oh," I replied, not worried if we could get back. As long as I was with him, it didn't matter. It didn't matter.

"Ellie, you have to understand. You have to..." He paused, the air silent and cool between us. In a voice of resignation, he simply finished with, "I don't know how to make you understand."

"Just explain things to me, Will!"

His eyes seemed so deep with sorrow as he looked at me. I walked up and tried to read their meaning. It was like a star burning out and it filled me with overwhelming loneliness and fear to see it.

"You're so innocent."

"You mean ignorant."

"No," he shook his head. "You're innocent. I don't want to be the one to ruin it."

"Innocence, ignorance. I won't survive in it! That's what I need to do, Will. I need to survive."

"Even if you need to give up yourself in the process," he whispered, tracing my jaw ever so slightly with the tips of his fingers.

"I-I..."

He placed a finger over my lips, terminating any protest that was ready to fall from them. "Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.*"

* From Self-Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter 5

Posted on Thursday, 30 August 2001

Oolongula, 3rd week

The sun blazed in all its fiery glory, sending waves of heat through the village. Meesh wiped the sweat from his forehead with a white cloth before turning to us, his eyes squinting against the light. "I will see you both next week."

"Of course," I replied, looking longingly at the path snaking through the cool shadows of the forest.

"I see you are ready to leave," he smiled, revealing the gap in his teeth.

"Oh, I hope I wasn't that obvious," I said as I moved toward the edge of the village. Meesh laughed before waving to us and heading back to the schoolhouse. I watched him walk in a leisurely manner, as though he were taking a scenic tour. Only he could make everything seem so simple, so carefree. My admiration for him seemed to have no bounds. Why, a man such as he... "It's a wonder someone so educated would live such a life."

"Do you think he would be better off in Leopoldville?"

"Well, yes. I realize that blacks aren't exactly treated equally but there are opportunities for him, aren't there?"

"Oh, you mean working in the back of a mailroom. Working hours on end in conditions unfit for a human being just so one can buy a crust of old bread each night and a tenth of a kilo of rotten beef once every two weeks." Will shuffled his feet along the dirt, leaving a trail of blowing dust.

I felt something turn inside of me. A dormant rage burning up. Why did everyone had to treat me like some child? That was what I had tried to escape! At least Meesh spoke to me as an intellectual equal. He didn't belittle me, criticize my every step, reprimand me on unknown grounds. Even Will with his quotations from Emerson and shaky promises would alter from this perfect ideal to a sour cad.

"Do you think we could make it through a day without some sort of fight?" My teeth were clenched. I felt as though I were on edge, ready to pounce as I did so often with the Lowells.

"I doubt it," he replied with a toothy grin.

I felt myself relax. My muscles loosen at his willingness to give in. There was always something to be said about the way he smiled. He never did it often and each rare occasion was some gift from the sky. Like a shooting star. You could only catch so many.

"I think I'm starting to like it here."

"You're starting to get used to some dirt, are you?"

"Maybe," I responded while spinning in circles with my eyes lifted toward the green canopy and my arms raised level to my shoulders.

He casually meandered in my direction and shoved me softly at the hip.

"Hey!" Thrown off my spin, I stumbled backward for a moment, tripping over my own feet. I pushed him in retaliation. His lanky frame was as illusionary as Mr. Lowell's kindness. His muscles were lean and hard under his tanned skin and though they didn't ripple outward like Meesh's, they were a force to be reckoned with. He barely fell out of stride.

It reminded me of the women in the village, carrying everything on their head. Baskets piled with things which would lead to backaches and vertical impairment. They seemed to have tremendous strength. Yet, where did it all come from? I felt as though I knew so much more by being in the village. Though I felt like an outsider when I was actually in it. It was an odd shift of feelings. A cycle which I had begun to recognize but didn't understand.

I was always astonished by Leah in the mornings, joyful to see Will in his lazy carelessness at breakfast. Sour by the remarks made by Lady Kat, and flaring with anger by the very sight of Anne. On the days we went to the village, I was renewed with exuberance, even trekking through the mud. Then stupid. I would feel stupid among their clucking tongues, unaware of the source of their giggles and wary of Will's translations. I would watch the people of Oolongula, ignoring me and feeling a particular sense of loneliness. And this incredible sense of knowing when I left. Or gratefulness for Meesh who would always be there to make these minor comments which seemed so real. I didn't know whether it had been worth leaving. Not yet. I still had to find out.

"Maybe I could stay a little longer."

"Longer? You still have another eleven months."

"But it's going rather well, don't you think?"

He arched an eyebrow, looking at me as though I must've been ready to jump into a pit of snapping crocodiles. Perhaps, in a way I was. He inhaled slowly before turning to me. "I don't think you can. You really should consider going home early."

"Why? I told you I like it here."

"What's so horrible about Mississippi?"

I bit my lip. What was so horrible about home? Everything. No, that was an unfair assessment. I mean, the Congo wasn't exactly paradise to say the least. Why, I was practically in the center of the world with the equator passing over us. "You know, I never imagined the center of the world would be anything like this. I suppose I had this notion that it would this incredible molding of cultures, of intellect, of everything. Just like how the United States is a melting pot. But it's just hot. Incredibly, sticky sort of hot. And it makes logical sense it would be, but who would've really thought of that?"

"Ellie, you're getting weird. You've definitely been here too long." He squinted, though we were no longer in the sun. "Have you been taking your malaria pills?"

Leopoldville

Will seemed oddly troubled by my admission of actually liking the Congo. His jaw kept on contracting. I had to fight the urge to trace it with my finger each time he did so.

"Where are we going?" We had turned left instead of right. We never turned left.

"Into town."

"Really?" I sat up. In my entire month here, I was never anywhere except the mansion and the village. Unless the airport counted. And it didn't count.

"I have to pick up a few things."

"Doesn't Leah usually do that?"

"Yep."

He didn't seem to be anymore forthcoming, but I didn't care. I felt like a kid going with my father to work for the first time. I was going to a place which I was usually restricted from, and I almost bounced with joy. It was like a boundary which was set from early on. And now it was finally being crossed. It was finally being done.

"You know, when I was really little, I would love to sit on my father's shoulders and have him walk me around the farm. He would point to the birds and tell me stories about their flight. Or we would go by the orchards and I would pick apples and such, dropping them into his big hands. But when I was older, he would sternly tell me I was too big for such things. He would pick my sisters up and I would try to find a way to please him...like trying to be the son he never had. But it didn't work." I leaned back as the white mansions began to fade off as we entered the outskirts of town. It was like the time I visited my great aunt in Los Angeles. Not that the city was cluttered in mansions, but homes would fade away into this sort of metropolis. Large buildings and endless traffic. "Then, one day, I must've been ten. I was gathering roses and my father walks by. He picks me up and puts me on his shoulder, pointing toward this beautiful climbing rose. 'You should have that one,' he tells me. And I reach toward it and though the thorns tore my skin and made my fingers bleed, I was never more happy than at that moment."

I waited for him to say something, anything. I didn't know what provoked me to share such an intimate moment with him, but I did. And I waited. He parked along the curb and we got out of the car.

"C'mon, the store's just across the street."

We followed the crowd toward the crossing. Will walked along the street, next to the pavement where the blacks stood. I was along the inside where all the whites were.

Rosings Park

"We're going through some of that stuff too."

Will was putting the food in the pantry. He had been stocking up on powdered cocoa for the children of Oolongula. "What stuff?"

"The whole discrimination thing," I replied while spooning the ice-cream straight from the carton. "I mean, it's everywhere. Blacks can't sit in the front of the bus. It's reserved for whites. And then, there's other races. And religion. I mean, I'm a God-fearing woman but I'm not going to brandish that about with a rifle. You have to teach it through the Gospel. Oh, and women's rights..."

"Are you sure you're okay?" He looked into my eyes, trying to see goodness knows what. A loose bolt bouncing about?

"You've been especially loquacious as of late."

"I think all the shock I received that is starting to wear off."

"So, you're usually this chatty?"

"I suppose so."

"Oh boy..."

"I know what you mean, William. How are we going to make it through another eleven months without strangling her?" Anne stood at the kitchen door. It seemed impossible really. Anne in the kitchen. Did she ever come into the kitchen? Know how to work a stove? "I guess we can't."

Will ignored her, packing the rest of the food away. It made me feel smug.

"So, Ellen, how are you finding the Congo?"

"I rather like it, thank you very much." My hand was itching beside me, ready to smack her across the face. Never in my life had I hated someone as I hated her. She was always so spiteful of me. I never understood it.

"Oh, really? Maybe you should stay at the village and never come back. It can be arranged, you know."

"It's getting late, Anne, and the two of us missed dinner." Will gave me his hand and helped me off the counter.

"You're sleeping with her, aren't you?" Hey eyes looked large and wild. She seemed to be mad with jealousy, and it made me reel back in surprise.

"Anne, that's ridiculous!"

It was ridiculous. Weren't they cousins? Weren't they enemies? I didn't know what to make of Anne's flashing eyes. But I knew I wanted to hurt her in some way. And it seemed as though Will was my means of doing so. For all her hatred for me, I wanted my own revenge. "And what if I am?"

Will turned toward me silently. It was as though the world slowed down, and I could see him looking at me expressly. His eyes wide with confusion and wonder. I could see Anne lunging toward me, cursing my existence. She came toward me with her hands outstretched. Her face was distorted by rage.

Then, it all sped up. We were pulling at each other's hair and screaming. It was a cat fight unlike any other. Will was trying to pull us apart but we kept going at it. Pulling and biting, punching and kicking. I don't know what happened. I don't know when it ended. But there I was, with my back on the cold tile floor with Will's face floating in front of my dancing eyes. "She knocked me out?"

"No, she's out cold."

Chapter 6

Pemberley Spitfire

I guess it was expected. I couldn't very much knock their daughter out and be allowed to stay in their home. Missionaries. I bet they didn't even know what that was all about.

"This is a bad idea."

It was about the tenth time he had said it within the hour. I ignored him. It was my life. "Interesting week," I said to myself. "Maybe I didn't take the malaria pills."

He placed his hand on my cool forehead. Then, he reached over and buckled my seatbelt. I had forgotten.

"Ellie, you can't do this."

"I certainly can. Anyway, Meesh is there. He'll help me out."

He inhaled deeply and when he next spoke, his voice sounded far-off. He seemed tired and aged. "We had this swing. It was something my father put together one day. He was not a building man but this was something he did entirely on his own. Just some rope and a block of wood on this branch which reached out near the pond. But I thought, this was the most incredible thing I've ever seen. I was just perfect. It would twist so easily, allow me to spin until I was sick with dizziness. And it was under the shade where I could escape the afternoon's glare. Sometimes, in the summer, I would swing hard and high. Let go and fly into the pond. My father taught me how to swing. I taught my sister. It was my swing. When my father died, I sat there and swung from dawn till dusk."

I could feel the tears well up in my eyes. Not so much because of the story, though it was a sad one indeed...but because he told me. I took his hand, leaving the other at the controls. "Thank you."

Chapter 7

Oolongula

I clung onto Will's arm. The forest at night was engulfed in complete darkness. Even though the canopy blocked the sun's penetration in the day, the jungle still seemed to glow with this internal light. But at night...everything echoed and drowned in blackness. Will's lantern was small and useless. I felt the deep oppression of the dark collapsing into me with every quivering step I took.

"Blessed are the meek..." I whispered to myself. I began to dig my nails into Will's arm but he didn't flinch. "Do you believe in God, Will?"

"Here?" He spoke in a whisper too.

"He's everywhere."

"Oh, of course."

I felt myself slide and had to bite my lip from screaming. It was nothing but mud or wet leaves, I said to myself. Either way, I moved closer to Will until there wasn't any space between us.

"Have you ever considered the possibility that man has altered the word of God?"

"Well, I suppose..."

"Translated from the earliest of languages, one that no one can truly comprehend anymore."

"Are you saying that the Bible has lead us astray?"

"We have lead ourselves astray."

The river glistened in the night, reflecting the moon in thousands of moving breaks. I felt Will pull my arm. He gave me the lantern and pulled me over his shoulder. Our crossing was slow and ponderous. It was as though we were being held back. When he set me down on the opposite shore, he took back his flickering light and pulled me close. We continued our walk in silence, following the winding path toward Oolongula.

"John 14:27."

"Excuse me?"

"Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."

"Easier said than done, huh?" I cowered at an indeterminable screech across the night.

"Monkeys."

"Oh..."

We came upon the village, the dark covering much of its haphazard structure. It was somehow worse. Lonely and dead. Nothing but dark, dreary colors. Will was counting houses. Four away from the school. He knocked softly, lest he wake any of the villagers though no one seemed to be disturbed by any hollering monkeys.

There was no answer. Who would be awake this late at night anyway? It wasn't as though Meesh would hear the gentle raps. As though he would sit up in bed and say, "Oh, I hear Will at the door."

"Wait here." He pushed the creaking wood and walked into the encompassing dim.

I swallowed hard. How could he leave me out here? What if the monkeys came in a caterwauling pack, with sharp fang-like teeth, falling from the trees like rain, to devour me whole? Then, Will would come back and wonder where I went off to. He wouldn't know. Because I was eaten by a bunch of monkeys.

Preoccupied by the thought of being eaten alive, I didn't hear the two men come up to me. I let out a scream but was duly interrupted by Will covering my mouth. "We're going to take you to the missionary house."

I muffled a reply in his hand but it was inaudible against the sweat of his palm.

"What?" He removed his hand.

"There's a missionary house?"

"Well, it's not often that we have families live there, but at times, the reverend and his relations would spend their year entirely in the village."

"Why didn't you tell me about it?"

We were whispering along the road while Meesh held the lantern in front of us. Will was holding my hand, a rather unconscious move, I believe, but comforting nonetheless.

"I didn't think you would stay in Oolongula."

"It was an option."

"You're a woman."

"And what's that suppose to mean!"

"For goodness sake, Ellie, keep your voice down." He whispered harshly. Then, in the tone of a parent patiently scolding a child, a tone which I resented, "You couldn't stay here by yourself."

"But-"

"Even the center of the world isn't blind to inequality."

The three of us made our way toward the end of the village. A stone structure, twice the size of the surrounding homes, looked oddly intimidating among the swaying elephant grass. It was the missionary house, the only building not made entirely of sticks and mud.

I walked with slow measured steps, the way Will would walk when he wanted to slow down. I felt as though I needed to absorb this place. It would be my home for the next eleven months. That is, if Will didn't find some way to send me packing. I suppose he could've drugged me and flown me back in my stupor. "Why haven't you dragged me back yet?"

"Miss Hastings?" Meesh was looking at me; the light from the lantern danced in my eyes. I saw spots.

"I was talking to Will."

Meesh nodded and walked into the gaping hole of a door. Will was standing beside me, tilting his head to a side. "Because you would hate me for it."

"Really, Will."

"I have more respect for you than that, Ellie." He took my hand, perhaps the fifth time that day (not that I was counting), and guided me toward the house. We walked along a concrete walkway and through the porch. How odd, a porch in the middle of the Congo.

The room was empty but large. A table with uneven legs was against one side and a chair was on the other. The windows were merely holes in the wall, streaming in pale moonlight. Meesh's frame filled a door to the right. "I put your things in the bedroom."

I nodded toward him, feeling extremely alone. It was then I realized that Will was no longer holding my hand. He had turned back. He was already walking down the porch steps. I was in the middle of some old movie, everything black and white yet so incredibly real. I rushed out, half expecting lightening to flash purple across the sky, the only color that could be seen, reaching into the night with its craggy fingers.

"Where are you going?" Going? He was going to leave. You didn't expect him to stay, did you, Ellie? Who would want to stay in this empty stone building when you could have your satin sheets in la maison magnifique?

"I'll be back."

I felt the earth spin beneath me. I felt as though I was thrown off my axis. That, even at the center of the world, I could not find my foundation. And then he was gone.

End of Book I

Book II- Acquainted with the Night

Chapter One

Posted on Wednesday, 30 January 2002

Missionary House, Oolongula

Certainty slips from you so gradually that the rug has been pulled from under your feet before you even recognize the coldness seeping in between your toes. I always grew up knowing certain things. My father would wake up at five in the morning and milk the cows. My mother would cook her famous fried chicken on Saturday. Choir practice with the girls would be on Tuesday and Thursday nights and it was my job to bring the cherry Jell-O. Reverend Collins would drone on about sowing the fields and harvesting the grain, but that didn't mean God loved me any less for giving me a preacher such as he. I had a cross to bear and one day I would make my father proud. I would go to heaven and see those who have passed before me. Mr. Dominquiz from the parlor shop would smile with his crooked teeth when I waved. And I would marry for love.

How did it all come to this? How did I begin to wonder whether I was turned over backward in some sort of distorted dream? Why was I standing on a porch in the middle of some forsaken jungle waiting for the night to engulf me? I was meant to grow up, be awkward and ungainly, then beautiful at sixteen. I was meant to fall in love at first sight and be carried off into the sunset or perhaps a castle in the clouds. I would have children, a boy and two girls. Watch them grow and stumble beautifully through life. I would spend my evenings watching the marmalade sunset over the Mississippi River. And I would die an old, old woman before being delivered to my eternal life.

I kicked the concrete steps, stubbing my toes, feeling my nails curve into my skin. I didn't cry out; instead, I brushed past Meesh and into a room to the right of me and pushed the door firmly shut. It was dark, almost completely black and my eyes adjusted slowly. The edge of the cot gleamed slightly and I stumbled toward it. I fell onto the bed, not even pulling my shoes off. It groaned under my weight and every move I made, however slight, resulted in some sort of rusty squeal from the coils. I felt my certainty had long left me. As though I never had it. Was everything the same as it was before I left? I suddenly recognized the patterns had been turning, with me defying my father by going to college and then working at the diner in Jackson so I could pay for the tuition everyone else ignored. With the Reverend reciting a verse or two and discreetly glancing at Charlotte, who played the organ and made the bench grumble under her. With lime Jell-O instead of cherry!

I punched my pillow, thinking about curved space. Einstein believed in curved space, in a universe in which the black night was some blanket that we had been plopped down onto where we would spin in elliptical paths with three percent eccentricity. Did our souls ascend to heaven? And if it did, as so many believed, where was this indeterminable heaven, between the end of our atmosphere and the land? Would it spin along the axis too or was it reserved somewhere in space? I had no answers, only fears. I wasn't certain if Will would come back and that frightened me most of all.

I woke up to the feeling that I was somehow elevated. I had forgotten where I was and how small I was in the scheme of things and all that troubled me. It was that feeling of optimism after you open your eyes to the world. And then you see it...You look around and everything drops to the pit of your stomach.

I brought myself up to a sitting position and immediately, fell back again. I didn't want to face the day. I didn't want to get up and pretend...pretend that everything was normal. Nothing was normal. Nothing ever was. I wanted to scream, cry, tear out my hair. Most of all, I wanted Will. I wanted to tell him why I was here, why I had to be here, and why I needed him to help me.

I turned over, knowing that Meesh would probably listen to my woes but fail to understand. That was it, wasn't it? Why I couldn't fall for him. There was no doubt in my mind that he was a wonderful man, a man of extreme intellect and compassion. But a man of understanding far different from my own. Yes, we were two different people. We were people who could not be anything but polite acquaintances, cordial colleagues, perhaps, to a certain degree, friends.

I had yet to thank him for his kindness. Running a hand through my hair, I rolled off the cot as it squeaked in objection.

"Meesh?" I entered the living room. There was no one there. I walked through the rest of the house. There was not much else to see: another bedroom and the kitchen. I noted there were no lavatories but found myself unable to care. There was a bookshelf in the other room and I tried to occupy myself with the classic titles. Crime and Punishment. I wrinkled my nose. Not something I was particularly interested in at the moment. The Man in the Iron Mask. Too heavy and somber. The Little Princess? I picked up the book. An old favorite of mine. As I turned it in my hands, I felt its weight double. Somehow, the troubles of Sara Crewe seeped through the pages and into my veins. I set it aside and went into the kitchen.

There were some skewed cupboards, an old copper tub on lion claws, and a table which seemed much more stable than the one I saw last night. There was also a stove, that was unlike the electric one that my mother had, unlike the gas one my grandmother used. I tinkered with it, unsure what to do. It looked more like an oven and I could see burnt sticks along the bottom of the interior. I reached in to clear the inside. My hands were soon covered in black ash, and I had nowhere to place the remnants of burnt wood.

I gathered them into a messy bundle and threw them out the door. I felt all strength drain from me as hot tears obstructed my vision. My whole body shook. I tightened myself into a ball, hoping to protect myself from God knows what. Where was He now? Why hadn't He forced Will to stay with me? I didn't move for the rest of the morning. It was just me, the swaying elephant grass, and the burning sky.

Chapter 2

Posted on Tuesday, 23 April 2002

Missionary House, Oolongula

My stomach grumbled, the muscles contracting and searching for some sort of nourishment. Meesh looked up as it continued to protest in hunger.

"Maybe you should eat," he said gently.

Maybe everyone should stop telling me what I should be doing, I thought, trying to convey my message by staring at him hard like I've seen Anne do so many times before.

"It is not so bad once you have tried it," he retorted in Standard English. Not American English, but Standard. Couldn't he throw in some foreign phrase, a contraction, something that resembled the mix-up carelessness of whites that were blind to their own weaknesses? Why did he have to walk around with such perfection? The only thing he didn't have to recommend himself with lingered on the surface of his skin. It wasn't right. But could I do anything about the doors that opened for me--- the ones that kept him out forever in the ravages of time?

I looked at my dinner, sitting in the midst of a clay bowl. It looked like a ball of wet flour. For all I knew, it was a ball of wet flour. Perhaps, it had some extra nutrients, like one of those stick insects that looked like a leaf.

"Ellie..."

"Please don't tell me what to do," I whimpered, feeling like a child pouting over cold oatmeal.

"It is for your own good. You must eat." He moved closer, holding a piece of white glob under my nose.

Was that supposed to entice me into devouring that mess? I poked at it and turned away. I might as well have eaten the grass outside. Was that their life? Did they eat wet flour all day and perhaps, on special occasions, rotten meat? I wanted to cry for them. I couldn't imagine living my entire life in this village, coping with such an existence. Survival. That was the only thing they thought of, could think of. I wanted to cry these big crocodile tears for them, but I had wasted them all on myself.

"Will asked me to take care of you, and I thi-"

"He did what?" My head shot up and I looked directly into his dewy eyes.

Meesh looked away. His eyes roamed the room, as though they were rolling around in their sockets. He looked out the window, at the floor, beyond my shoulder. Everywhere except at me. He wouldn't look at me. What was going on?

My stomach seemed to shrink within itself. Perhaps, it was eating its own walls, collapsing like a burning star. I was somehow detached from its pain, as though it was someone else's suffering and I had swallowed it.

"Is Will going to come back?"

"Of course!" he spluttered with a suspicious amount of emphasis.

When? In another month? In eleven months? Was there any way for me to possibly leave? Was I doomed to have my hair gray in this missionary house? I looked at that white ball of supposed nourishment and grabbed it in my fist. It felt moist, sticky, and slippery all at the same time. I turned it in my hands. This was my life. This was me spinning on my axis.

"What do you call this?"

"Fufu."

"Sounds like a poodle's name," I said more to myself than him as I took a big bite.

I tried not to count. What good would it do anyway? Counting only lengthen the wait. Counting only reminded me how long I would be drowning. I woke up on the third day with the children calling out, "Cadeau! Cadeau!" outside, at the edge of the lawn. Or supposed lawn, I should say. I took a stone and carved a scraggy line next to two others. My hand just wouldn't listen. It wanted to count.

I was suppose to go to the schoolhouse but indolence and shame were keeping me away. Did the children even care about the lessons I taught? Were they listening or simply swatting the flies that hovered over their half-naked bodies? I hadn't even bathe since my arrival. Did it really matter? The children hadn't bathe in anything but polluted water for the entire span of their young lives. The village for that matter hadn't bathe in anything but polluted water.

I wiped a hand across my face. I still had ash clinging to me from the day I cleared the stove. I didn't even used the stove. Didn't know how. Meesh brought food for me, if one could deem that wet mess of flour as food. With much disappointment but hardly any amount of surprise, I would look at the ball that Meesh unceremoniously dumped under my nose. I sucked in my stomach every time it groaned for more.

How did he ever get that big? He barely ate anything. Most of the villagers were rather diminutive compared to him. Even Will was taller than most of them. I, at five foot three, looked down upon the women. Maybe it was elephant grass. Or maybe, he would kill monkeys in the jungle at night. I wouldn't mind eating a monkey. Was there any fish in the lake? Maybe I would shrink from lack of nourishment. My mind was jumping from one jumbled thought to another. I felt as though I was losing my mind but had no fear of it actually occurring.

I looked at the crooked table, sitting opposite a chair of similar quality, and walked into the other bedroom. The Little Princess was still stranded in the middle of the cot, where I last left it. It did very well evening out the legs. I went into the kitchen as I heard Meesh coming up the porch steps. I didn't stop there. I went out the back door, through the elephant grass, and into the woods. There was something about the way the sun seemed to vanish without a trace in the shade of the green canopy. I felt my nerves calming down and laughed at myself. I was becoming my mother. Now, that was scary!

The sound of the swaying elephant grass dimmed into echoes. I recalled thinking of running water when the wind swept through it. At first, I had thought it was the river, but no, it was the grass that hissed. Rivers didn't hiss. You had to listen carefully, you had to let your ears capture the breeze. And then, you would hear it speak, through slivers of a thousand of foreign tongues.

My eyelids felt heavy. It was as though the forest had woven a spell on me. I stayed away from the vegetation and followed the narrow path. I had never been on this side of the great jungle before. I continued on, moving slowly, trying to disappear like the sun. My legs were burdened by my own weight and I laid down in the middle of the path. It didn't take me very long to drift off into an untroubled sleep.

The Jungle

A screech shattered the tranquility. I sat up, surrounded by pitch black. I felt fear rush through me like a train bounding down the tracks. Where was I? Then, it came to me...I was in the jungle. I was so stupid to fall asleep! I tried to stand but my body wouldn't comply. The lack of nourishment of the last few days had taken its toll on me. It slowed me down. It made me weak.

I closed my eyes, trying to slow the pounding in my heart. The echoes filled my ears. Which way to go? I wasn't sure, but I couldn't possibly stay here. The adrenaline was rushing, rushing. It filled my veins, my head felt as though it would explode. I got up and ran. I ran without stopping. I tripped over my own legs in the dark and muttered verses. I didn't stop to breathe. I just kept going.

By luck or by the grace of God, I saw the path widening. I saw the brown river glistening in its murky beauty. I hadn't wandered very far after all. I was too tired to go anywhere really and all the dread that had pounded within my veins now seemed so silly. I even considered turning around and heading straight back. Instead, I collapsed among the endless waves of grass. The Congo really made me tired.

"Where the hell have you been?"

My eyelids fluttered open. I hadn't been sleeping, only suspended between consciousness and lost dreams. I squinted. The sun was already burning the land's red haze into endless blue. Did I sleep through two days?

He came closer, his face inches from mine. He placed his cool hand against my forehead.

"Meesh?"

He pulled back. "Have you been taking your malaria pills?"

Something clicked. The gears started to move and I sat up, hitting my forehead against his chin in a loud crack of bone against bone. He reeled backwards, cupping his new injury in his palm. My hands flew around his neck and we tumbled down the gentle slope.

"Ellie..."

He tried to sit up but I was on top of him. I didn't have the strength or the desire to move. I grasped him tightly around the neck, so tightly he flinched.

"Ellie..." he said in that way of his. That patronizing way.

"I thought you wouldn't come back," I mumbled into the collar of his shirt. "I thought I would die here, an old woman or a skeleton."

He didn't try to get up anymore. Instead, he ran his hands through my hair. We were quiet, except for my sobs. I don't know what I was thinking at that moment, only grateful that he was back. He was finally back.

"Don't ever leave," I said after awhile.

He responded with, "How long has it been since you last took a bath?"

"Four days, perhaps."

"Geez..." He said through his teeth, drawing out the vowels and once again making a bad attempt at a Southern accent.

"Yeah, well, I had other things to deal with."

"Meesh tells me you haven't been eating," he murmured, his hands simply settling behind my head.

"What, is he your hired spy?"

"Spy the am I, no."

I lifted my head. He wasn't looking at anything particular, but there was something meaningful in the depths of his eyes. Even dreamy. I didn't understand it, but in the next second, he was looking at me with his usual insouciance. It reminded me of the popular boys at school who were too 'cool' to care.

I felt discomfort creep through me. I was never troubled by Will's stoic nature before...but this time, it made me afraid. I shuddered involuntarily and rolled off of him. We were close to the river and the water almost trickled into my ear. I stared into its murky depths, wondering what could possibly be hidden beneath.

"C'mon, you really need to bathe. You bring new meaning to the phrase, 'What the cat brought in.'"

I turned over and saw his legs disappear into the brush. I pushed myself up on my elbows and stumbled after him. My progression was slow. I was weary and lacked motivation. How was I suppose to bathe? Would he hand me a rough stone to scrub myself with at the river?

I walked through the backdoor. Will was shoving pieces of wood within the dark recesses of the stove.

"Is that how you use it?"

He looked up with his head tilted to the right. "Are you okay?"

My stomach answered for me. He walked out and was back within seconds, holding Tupperware.

"And that would be..."

He pulled off the lid to reveal cold lasagna. I grabbed the container from his hands and used my fingers, filthy with three days worth of grime, to shovel it into my mouth. In minutes, my stomach ached with a different kind of pain. But I kept eating. I was too sure of my hunger to stop.

I licked the bottom of the plastic. I licked every piece of broken pasta and red sauce. I sucked my fingers. I was trying to make up for three days. Three days.

Chapter 3

Posted on Saturday, 15 June 2002

December 24th, 1959

"What are you two talking about? Your secrets again?"

Will didn't reply. He looked at me, his dark eyes smoldering, then turned back again. I left Meesh and him to their conversation. It had been going on for quite some time, these talks of theirs. They would discuss things in French. They would throw their arms about in wild gesticulations. They would pace back and forth. They would strike the table, making it wobble on its three legs and Sara Crewe.

I always asked, but he never gave me an answer. He kept so many things from me. But then, he kept me alive. Wasn't that his promise? To keep me alive? He never said he would do anything more. Just keep me going. What was alive anyway? Was he saving me for something worth while? I wanted to take a bath. I felt so dirty, like I had rolled out in the red Congo dirt for hours. More like months. I kicked the dented bucket by the stove. The effort it would take...to bathe myself. The day he came back - was it two months ago? I wasn't sure. But Will had boiled bucket after bucket of water. It had taken an hour at the very least. That was the last time I felt truly clean.

I went outside to hear the wind whisper. I loved the Congo then. I did. It had so much to say and yet it was all unheard. I rubbed the calluses on my palms. It was so hard. To live here. To pretend that I existed. To pretend that I cared. Modern conveniences had made me weak, fragile. Hadn't they? I was going to crack. I could feel it inside of me. To think, without Will, coming and going every week, to bring me supplies and food, I would've chewed my own arm off. If only he would stay. Why didn't I just ask him? Stay, Will. Stay.

The back door squealed on rusty hinges and shut with a loud series of shudders. I could feel his shadow fall over me.

"The raining season is coming upon us."

"Us?" I breathed. You mean me.

"It's late this year."

"It rains all the time, Will."

"There might be floods." He paused for a moment and then continued, "Have you been taking your malaria pills? I hope you pull that netting over you every night. You're going to have other things to worry about, but now that the school is out of session-"

"I taught five lessons, Will. Five."

"I know, but they have other things to do. The boys...they have to learn more important things and you would've lost a lot of them to the kakakaka anyway," he sighed, the exasperation heavy in his voice.

"What's that?"

"It's what comes with the rainy season."

"Oh."

"You should stay inside. You're safest in here."

I stood up, dusting the dirt off my dress. "Safe from what?"

"Well, safe from..." He looked confused.

"I know, disease. Safe from malaria and whatever else that I can catch from that damn jungle." Will stepped back as I forced the curse from my mouth. "What about madness? That's a disease, isn't it? Have you ever considered that? I can't handle this. Yet, I'm not even handling it. You are! I don't do anything for myself. I don't do anything at all. I sleep. I think. I wait for you to come and hand me my food. I'm going mad! I know it!"

"Ellie..."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I meant to tell you...I'm not coming back for awhile."

I felt something drop inside of me, but I didn't say a thing. I felt so detached from the world. I felt as though I didn't know a thing. I was imprisoned within the drab stone walls of the missionary house.

"Look, there are some things I need to take care of, and-"

"Never mind." I pushed pass him and went to my room. I slammed the door shut and fell across my bed. I didn't cry. I didn't even move.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. My neck ached. Turning over, I focused lazily upon his firm jawbone.

"I thought you were leaving..."

"Ask me to stay."

"Stay."

He got off the bed and walked out the room. I didn't stir. I was listening. Listening for something, anything. For him. There was nothing but silence. He hadn't left already, had he?

"Will?" I called. My throat was dry. I pushed myself up and wandered toward the doorframe. "Will!"

I ran over to him and threw my arms around his neck. "Is it Christmas? I didn't know."

It wasn't much. In fact, it was nothing compared to the holiday season at home where the seven-foot tree would dominate the living room. Where the house would be trimmed with flashing lights. Where candles flickered in every corner. Mother went all out for Christmas. She always did. And it was always so beautiful. But this, this was something beautiful as well.

Will was laughing at my exuberance. "It's a rather sad tree, isn't it? What - one, two, three...eight branches! Well...seven more like it."

"I love it," I murmured, fingering the wilting limbs that had already begun to bruise over brown. "Where did you get it?"

"Dragged the poor thing all the way from Leopoldville. Didn't have anything to decorate it with...except this." He pointed toward the top of the tree. Hidden within the pines was a sparkle. It was a pendant. A guardian angel.

I pulled it down. It glistened like some star plucked from heaven. The sunlight danced on its diamond body as I turned it in my hands.

"It belonged to my mother. I thought you should have it."

I felt the emotion building up inside of me, pushing toward my eyes. I kissed the pendant. "It's so beautiful," I managed before the tears choked me in their ascension.

"Merry Christmas, Ellie."

"Merry Christmas, Will." I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me. He stayed. He really stayed.

January, 1960

The rain pounded against the roof so hard I thought it would cave in. Beyond the incessant pouring was the sound of death, heavy and loud, crashing through the wavelengths of humanity. It was the kakakaka, taking so much of what little there was. For all I knew, it was yellow fever, dysentery, the common cold.

"Will, I haven't stepped out of this house since Christmas."

"You can leave when I leave."

"You're always leaving," I pouted.

"I mean, when I leave the village."

"When are you going to do that?" I tilted my head. Meesh seemed rather frustrated, almost angry, that Will had stayed as long as he had. Maybe he didn't feel useful, checking up on me and making sure I was following orders.

"When I feel like it," he muttered, seemingly burdened by my question. He laid back on his cot and closed his eyes.

I pulled a book from the shelf and sat next to his stretched-out form, listening to the rain as I slowly turned the pages.

"Are you going to read Treasure Island upside-down?"

I turned to look at him, his dark eyes contemplating the book I held in my hands. I followed his gaze to see that I was indeed holding it upside-down and backwards.

"I'm bored."

"That's your problem, not mine."

"Entertain me."

"I'm not here for your entertainment."

"I beg to differ."

"Beg and differ all you want," he muttered, rolling over on his side.

I threw the book across his back.

"Do you think I could survive without you?"

"Ellie..."

I repeated myself. He didn't respond. I asked the question a third time.

"I don't know, but you don't have to."

"I will one day. I'm going to be independent."

"You already are," he mumbled.

"No, I'm not. I depend on you for everything, just as I depended upon my father for-"

"Ellie," he interrupted, rolling his eyes in my direction. "You've got a lot more spirit than you give yourself credit for. What do you think independence is?"

"Not being dependent on anyone else except yourself."

"That's autonomy. Not independence. That's being isolated. It's..."

"Then what's your idea of independence, sir?" I said in the most formal voice I could muster.

"Independence is being free," he tapped his head and then his chest, "in mind and heart. It's when you are your own person. You travel your own path toward destiny, regardless of what has been mapped out for you. You live your own life. You follow your own stars. But you can't escape dependency. You have to depend on other people and when you don't...that's when you lose your freedom. You need people. People need you. But it doesn't mean you have to be defeated by realizing that you're weak, just as everyone else is."

"You're a poet, Will."

"I like to think so," he grinned. Then he pushed me off his cot and grumbled, "Now, get out of here."

Chapter Four

Posted on Tuesday, 13 August 2002

January, 1960

Do you know what it's like to look Death straight in the eye? Your blood runs cold and you start to shake. There's an internal struggle. Your spirit wants to flee but you grasp onto it because there would be nothing left once it's gone. But maybe it wasn't Death that I saw in those black eyes. Maybe it was Sickness. Maybe it was Sorrow. Maybe it was Africa that made me shiver as the sun pounded down mercilessly on my broken spine.

"Nsongonya," he pointed at the trail of ants disappearing into the cracks of the cement. Was he providing me with the Congolese word for ant? Or perhaps trail? Maybe even crack for all I knew.

I looked into those black orbs and nodded. He shook his head. He knew I didn't understand. Funny how perspective children can be when adults are so blind.

Peter stood from his crouched position. He repeated the word and picked up a large fire ant delicately between his black fingers. The insect twisted its exoskeleton, fighting for freedom...no, fighting from its physical imprisonment, thinking perhaps that escape meant survival but chains was certain death. Perhaps it wasn't even thinking that. Perhaps it was merely uncomfortable.

I nodded. Peter grinned in satisfaction but he didn't know of the doubts that stirred in the back of my mind. Was that the word for ant or the name for that type of ant? Was there a difference?

"God save the Queen!" Will cried in a thick accent as he stepped out onto the porch.

I squinted against the light. He was smiling. But it wasn't a smile brimming of some unleashed joy. It was sardonic, almost cruel.

"What are you smiling for?"

"Nothing."

But he was still smiling.

"Sala mtbote," the boy cried and ran off, kicking up the red clay with his heels.

"I suppose that was some sort of farewell," I muttered.

"Good. You're catching on."

"I'm suppose to be the teacher!" I pouted. "You have a ten-year-old boy teaching me how to communicate!"

"Is he not sufficient?"

"He's better at it than I am," I said, sitting on the cracked cement. Will instantly stepped forward to pull me up.

"Careful..." he admonished.

I blinked, not comprehending the dangers of sitting on my own porch until I felt the sharp sting of a fire ant's bite on my ankle. I jumped towards Will who caught me around the waist.

"Ow!"

He shook his head. "They call them fire ants for a reason."

"They call them nsongonya," I countered. He laughed as I reached down to rub my injured ankle.

"They can eat you alive. Remember that." His statement was declared with such indifference, you could interpret it as some morbid joke on his part. But I knew it was no joke. He meant it. I eyed the line of ants disappearing into the crack. How easy it would be for me to destroy them, to twist my heel onto the hardness of the concrete and end their existence. How easy it would be for anyone to do the same to me.

Will followed my gaze to the moving red trail. He seemed to look at it the way I looked at it. "Did you know the largest ant colony is found in Europe?"

I smiled. "I did not know that, sir."

"It consists of a stretch of almost five thousand kilometers, I believe."

I arched an eyebrow, uncertain where this conversation would lead as the case often was.

"Do you realize how many ants could live in such a space?"

"Millions."

"Billions, perhaps."

"Billions, then," I echoed, no closer to the meaning of his words than I was at the start of his speech.

"The continued existence of this colony is dependent on the ability of each member to work with his associates. If this ant colony, consisting of this simple arthropod, a creature far below the sophistication of our own make, can live in peace, then why can't we? Why must we persist in destroying ourselves? That colony, as all colonies in this world, with the exception of our own, has attained something that we have time and time again failed to achieve. Not so much a peace as a balance. We cannot continue as we are without such a balance. We will demolish our world. And...in doing so," he said, pointing at the nsongonya. "We may demolish their world as well."

I didn't know how to reply. A response didn't even seem necessary as his features rapidly contorted from their hard stoicism to an apologetic softness. He continued as though he had made no comment about our own self-destruction. "I'm leaving at the end of this week."

I pushed his previous remarks to the back of my mind where they intertwined with my own parallel fears, settling into the murky depths of my memory.

"Do you really have to go?" I pleaded. I knew he had stayed weeks past his intended departure date and it was selfish of me to ask, but I did not care. I didn't want him to go. I was not prepared to live my life here without him. And I certainly didn't want him to let me go either.

"Would I leave if I didn't?" he scoffed. I didn't understand his sudden change in attitude. He was like some sulky teenager. But then, I didn't quite understand him either. He continued to be as mysterious as Africa itself. Perhaps it was I who was slow to make the discovery. But Africa, I could do without, I could allow myself not to understand. I could even be satisfied with not knowing him. I just needed him. I watched him walk away, my heart aching for him, for me, for everything. Perhaps, most of all, for my loneliness.

February 14th, 1960

He left sooner than I had anticipated. My hand returned to its occupation of counting since that day in January when I woke up to find him gone. Just gone. Only a scribbled note, making a promise I prayed he would keep.

Meesh made his regular trips to the missionary house. Usually, he dropped off something that he claimed to be food. We didn't talk much anymore. Polite conversation and what not, but there seemed to be tension crackling in the air between us. Every time we spoke to one other, there was this reluctance to stay, this desire to flee. Maybe I was a burden to him. I was certainly a burden to Will. He had suggested to me the day prior to his departure a return to the States. He was always making that suggestion.

I laid down on the elephant grass, closed my heavy eyes. It was St. Valentine's Day. My mother used to bake sugar cookies, cut in the shape of hearts. The house would be filled with the smell of them. I could almost smell them now, their freshness diffusing into the air, wafting through the open window where I sat lazily in the backyard wondering if maybe this year I would have a sweetheart. I never did get one.

I opened my eyes to face a harsh blue sky. This was the same sky I used to see in Mississippi. But in so many ways, it wasn't. Or perhaps, I could no longer look at it the same way. I was such a lonely child desperate for love. And here I was, thousands upon thousands of miles away from where my heartache first began and still I had no home. I wanted my mother's cookies more than ever.

"Bi la ye bandu," I muttered to myself. Why, why, why. I hardly knew how I came to such a fate. Perhaps I wasn't happy at home. Perhaps things did go wrong. But why couldn't I, a cognitive creature blessed with the proper amount of arms and legs, find happiness in this world? Why did I have to come to Africa to find that I was lonelier than ever?

"Madame Ellie!"

I smiled. He was the only one who called me that. I turned onto my stomach and lifted myself up on my elbows, my solitary reflections drifting off with the breeze, leaving me lighter and less melancholy.

"Are you here?" I could hear him making his way through the grass, the long whips bending back as he pushed his way through.

"Yes, Peter. I am."

I caught a glimpse of his ebony skin and before I could inhale the morning, he was before me. In his arms was a pile of wood.

"What do you have there?" I asked, confused.

His brow creased in a mirrored expression as he pondered the question at hand. He extended his arm so I could have a better inspection. "It is wood. Do you not know what wood is?"

I almost burst out laughing but did not allow my amusement to go further than my lips. "Yes, I know what wood is. But why do you have it?"

"We are cooking today."

"We are?" I stood up. My skirt billowed in the breeze, the movement releasing dirt trapped within its creases. It swam like gold threading through the air.

Peter turned and I followed with steady steps, pushing my way gently through the grass. The wind rushed through the stalks, making them shimmer in the sunlight and hiss like rushing water. I could almost absorb everything around me, the sunlight, the currents of air, all the sensibilities of the moment, but something was missing. Something prevented me from finding true peace.

"Madame, are you not coming?"

I looked up. I had halted my progression without realizing that I had done so. Peter was yards ahead of me, his black orbs trained on my face, reading my open expression. I wanted so much out of this world and I found myself so little satisfied with it. I prided myself for being independent but I couldn't even find a foundation on which I could be truly free. Didn't Will once tell me that we are all dependent on other people whether we have freedom are not? But who was it that I could truly be dependent upon? I once thought it was my father. I once thought he was the rock which I always knew would be there, which I could always go back to. Peter was the one here. The only one here. Could I really be dependent on a ten-year-old? Could I be dependent on a child commissioned to watch over me? I was initially under the suspicion that Will paid him in cocoa powder. And maybe he did. And maybe I had the chance to start over, start fresh, and not allow previous failures to push me down before I even made the effort to begin again.

I picked up my skirt and kicked off the ground. "I'll race you back!" I cried as I passed him.

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