As long as the baobab tree is here, I will be...
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We buried Karina at the new property within twenty-four hours because there was no way to preserve her body. It was just as well, none of us would have grieved her properly even if we had been able to keep her for a few more days.
That night we took the children to the CHU’s, pairing the older kids with the younger kids so they had someone to watch over them as well. None of them took the news of her death well but a handful of children were beside themselves and it took days to get them to feel they were out of harm’s way.
Charles fell into a deep depression, tending to keep to his CHU a lot. We would take him trays of food but they only sat near the edge of his cot. It seemed we were going in just to replace the old untouched food but I was diligent. Eventually, he would need to eat and I wanted it to be available to him when the time came. Poor Charles, every time I’d knock and enter, he’d be still on his cot but would always roll over to smile at me, pat my hand and tell me I was good girl. I would keep a brave face for him but the second that CHU door fell closed, I’d have to stifle a sob.
Pembrook arrived two days before he was originally scheduled which helped a lot. The second their plane touched down in the field next to the new community he’d asked where Charles’ room was. They’d disappeared inside and I’d only gotten to see him when I took them both dinner that night.
Pemmy hugged me tightly and I returned the hug, a little piece of security fitting back into place. I knew it would take awhile for it ever to go back to rights and I wasn’t even sure if it ever would completely. My whole world had been knocked off its axis. When I thought I could find solace in Ian’s arms, I’d discovered that he was entirely too busy, too exhausted and too frayed for me to expect anything out of him fairly. In fact, I worked tirelessly to appease any burden I possibly could for him. Selfishly, I admit it also made me feel closer to him. He was so closed off he felt unattainable.
He was running Masego by himself, while overseeing construction, arranging for meal preparations, and so on and so on and so on. He was stretched thin, very, very, very thin.
Which is why I hadn’t mentioned his mom ringing me a few days after we’d buried Karina...
“Hello?” I asked, not recognizing the number on my sat phone.
“Miss Price, this is Abri Aberdeen.”
I was perplexed. “Hello, Miss Aberdeen. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Thanks. I need to talk to you.”
“I figured as much since you’ve rang my sat phone. It must be fairly important for you to be calling now,” I nettled, “seeming as we just buried Karina. Did Ian let you know?”
“Yes, yes,” she flippantly acknowledged, “I’m very sorry and all that but...” And all that? “I needed to speak with you.” My blood boiled in my veins.
“I can see that it must be urgent then. Is there something the matter?”
She cleared her throat. “I, well, I need to be blunt with you, Miss Price.” She paused.
“Go on.” What? Do you need an invitation? Or are you hesitating because you know you’re about to do irreparable damage?
A lazy, curling unease settle throughout my entire body and I tensed, preparing myself.
“I need to know the extent of your relationship with my son.”
“I’m sorry?” I guffawed.
“Are you with him? Together?”
I choked on my own words. “Why would you need the clarification? What is it any business of yours?”
“Because!” she exclaimed, all politeness evaporated. “Do you know who I am? Know my political aspirations? If the media caught wind that you, of all people, were with him, they would have a field day with it! I can’t afford this right now. I need all media outlets in my corner. I’m the leading candidate right now!”
I barely smothered the scream ready to erupt from my throat. “Abri,” I said in the most collected voice I could conjure, “I don’t have time for this right now. We just buried Karina. Do you know how much she meant to your son? And we're relocating the entire orphanage, Abri. Excuse me if I’m not able to see how important this election is to you. Truly, I hope the best for you but the fish in my fry pot are so big, the oil is spilling over, burning everything in its path.”
“What if I could fix it for you?” she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.
“What could you possibly do?” I asked, curious.
“I have political ties in L.A. I can arrange for you to come home early. Would that be enough?”
“You’re kidding me. You must be.” I laughed. “Abri, I’m sorry but I don’t need nor do I want your “help”. I would stay here regardless if you got me a reduced sentenced. I need to go. Have a good day.”
“One more thing, then,” Abri said, her voice seething. “Leave Ian be or I will cut him off. He will never again see a dime from me.” Then she hung up.