The Return

She smiled, feeling a sense of déjà vu. “That’s exactly what I thought when I first saw it, too.”

* * *

The autumn sun slanted down on them as Tru followed her to the front door. Once inside, Hope set her hat, gloves, and scarf on the end table and hung her jacket in the closet. Tru hung his jacket beside hers. The canvas bag went onto the end table, next to her things. There was something reassuringly domestic about the ease with which they entered the house, she thought, as if they’d been doing it together all their lives.

She could feel a draft coming through the windows. Though she’d adjusted the thermostat earlier, the house was struggling against the elements, and she rubbed her arms to keep the blood flowing. She watched as Tru took in the surroundings, and she had the sense that his eyes still missed nothing.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said. “I never thought in a million years you’d come.”

“And yet, you were waiting for me at the mailbox.”

She acknowledged his observation with a sheepish smile, combing her fingers through her windblown hair. “I’ve done most of the talking, so now I want to hear about you.”

“My life hasn’t been all that interesting.”

“So you say,” she said, her expression skeptical. She touched his arm. “Are you hungry? Can I make you some lunch?’

“Only if you’ll join me. I had a late breakfast, so I’m not famished.”

“Then how about a glass of wine? I think this calls for a little celebration.”

“I agree,” he said. “Do you need help?”

“No, but if you wouldn’t mind getting the fire going, that would be great. Just flip the switch near the mantel. It’s automatic. And then make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Hope went to the kitchen and peered into the refrigerator. Pulling out the bottle of wine, she poured two glasses and returned to the living room. By then, the fire was going and Tru was on the couch. After handing him a glass, she set hers on the coffee table.

“Do you need a blanket? Even with the fire going, I’m still kind of chilled.”

“I’m all right,” he said.

She gathered up a throw from the bed in her room, then took a seat on the couch, adjusting the blanket over herself before reaching for her glass. The heat from the fireplace was already seeping into the room.

“This is nice,” she commented, thinking he was as handsome as when they’d first met. “Wildly unbelievable, but nice.”

He laughed, a familiar rumble. “It’s more than nice. It’s miraculous.” Lifting his glass, he said, “To…Kindred Spirit.”

After clinking glasses, they both took a sip. When Tru lowered his glass, he gave a faint smile.

“I’m surprised that you’re not staying at Sunset Beach.”

“It’s not the same,” she said. Nor has it been since I met you, she added silently.

“Have you been here before?”

She nodded. “I came here the first time after I separated from Josh.” She told him a bit about what she’d been going through back then and how much the visit had helped her clear her mind, before going on. “At the time, it was all I could do to keep a lid on all the emotions I was experiencing. But the time alone also reminded me how much the kids were struggling with the divorce, too, even if they weren’t showing it. They really needed me, and it helped me refocus on that.”

“You sound like you were a great mother.”

“I tried.” She shrugged. “But I made mistakes, too.”

“I think that’s part of the description. At least when it comes to being a parent. I still wonder whether I should have spent more time with Andrew.”

“Has he said anything?”

“No, but he wouldn’t. And yet, the years went by too quickly. One day, he was a little boy, and the next thing I knew, he was heading off to Oxford.”

“Did you stay at Hwange until then?”

“I did.”

“But then you left.”

“How did you know that?”

“I looked for you,” she said. “Before putting the letter in the mailbox, I mean.”

“When?”

“In 2006. After I divorced from Josh, probably a year after my first visit to Carolina Beach. I remembered where you worked and I contacted the lodge. Other places, too. But I couldn’t find you.”

He seemed to contemplate that, his eyes unfocused for a few seconds. She had the sense there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, after a few beats, he offered a gentle smile. “I wish I’d known,” he said finally. “And I wish you would have.”

Me too, she thought. “What happened? I thought you liked working at Hwange.”

“I did,” he said. “But I was there for a long time and it was time to move on.”

“Why?”

“There was new management at the camp, and a lot of the other guides had left, including my friend Romy. He’d retired a couple of years earlier. The lodge was going through a transition period, and with Andrew off to college, there was really nothing to keep me in the area. I thought that if I wanted to start over someplace else, it was better sooner rather than later. So I sold my place in Bulawayo and moved to Botswana. I’d found a job at a camp that sounded interesting.”

So he went to Botswana after all, she thought.

“They all sound interesting to me.”

“A good number of them actually are,” he agreed. “Did you ever get to go on safari? You had said that you wanted to one day.”

“Not yet. I’m still hoping to, though.” Then, circling back to what he’d said earlier and remembering how many camps she’d contacted, she asked: “What was so interesting about the camp in Botswana? Was it well known?”

“Not at all. It’s more of a middle-tier camp. The accommodations are a bit rustic. Bagged lunches instead of prepared meals, things like that. And the game can be fairly sporadic. But I’d heard about the lions in the area. Or rather, a specific pride of them.”

“I thought you saw lions all the time.”

“I did,” he said. “But not like this. I’d heard a rumor that the lions had learned to hunt and bring down elephants.”

“How could lions bring down an elephant?”

“I had no idea, and I didn’t believe it at the time, but eventually I met a guide who used to work there. He told me that while he hadn’t actually seen an attack, he’d come across an elephant carcass the following day. And it was clear to him that lions had been feasting most of the night.”

She squinted at him doubtfully. “Maybe the elephant was sick and the lions came across it?”

“That’s what I thought initially. People always talk about the lion as being the king of the jungle—even that Disney movie The Lion King played up the mythology—but I knew from experience that it wasn’t true. Elephants are, and always have been, the king of the bush. They’re massive and scary, truly dominant. In the hundreds of times I watched an elephant approach lions, the lions always backed off. But if the guide was right, I knew it was something I had to see for myself. The thought of it became something of an obsession. And again, with Andrew gone, I thought, why not?”