When Ian
Aberdeen Meets Sophie Price.
I casually leaned against the
windows lining the main corridor of Entebbe International waiting for the
spoiled brat, drug user Karina ordered me to get regardless of the fact that I
had better things to do at Masego. I only agreed to it because she promised me
koeksister. She could always bribe me with food much to my dismay.
I shifted my body, sitting on the
bit of wall supporting the window and crossed my arms and legs then sighed. I
glanced at my watch. I’d been waiting close to an hour. It’d taken me four
hours to get there, add the four hours it would take to drive us back and I was
looking at nine hours of travel total.
I slid my hands through my hair and
tucked the loose ends behind my ears. Need to get it cut, I thought. I
struggled internally on whether or not I should trim it or not because it was
the perfect length to keep behind my ears and since I never had time to shear
it, I knew I might as well keep it at the length it was to avoid it sliding in
my face. I vacillated back and forth between what to do while I waited. It was
quite the conundrum, let me tell you.
I hoisted myself up and yawned,
staring down at my feet and toeing at a scuffmark against the wall, only making
it worse. When I turned around. When I bloody turned ‘round, I was gob smacked
by what I’d found, struck absolutely speechless.
Coming down the corridor, bags
trailing behind her was unequivocally and unconditionally the most stunning
creature I’d ever had the pleasure to look upon. She was terrifyingly
beautiful. My tongue grew thick in my mouth, my entire body heated to an
unnatural degree and I struggled for breath.
Oh my God, I thought, it
cannot be. Please, God, you would not be so cruel to me.
Her long straight hair looked like
the color of honey and the sun from the windows washed over it, bringing out
bits of tawny and blonde. It glided over her shoulders as she walked. The mass
swished forward, over her elbows and down her forearms, when she stopped to
retrieve something from her bag.
If I’d had the right to, I would
have run my fingers throughout its length, memorized the weight of it, brought
it to my face and smelled its fragrance.
Her face was flawless; her skin sun
kissed yet looked porcelain in texture. Her lips were full but the bottom was
just a little bit fuller. It puckered naturally and I instantly daydreamed of
pulling it between my teeth. Just envisioning the act, made my stomach drop to
my feet, my lids felt heavy.
Her eyes were big and round, the
color of amber with flecks of wheat and gold. They searched curiously around
her but she didn’t take notice of me, hidden in the shadows as I stalked closer
to her.
Her body. My dear sweet Lord, her
body. Everything about it was just so enticing. Her hips begged me to pinch
them between my fingers. I closed my eyes, imagined palming the dip in her
stomach, following the lines of her sides, grasping her rib cage right beneath
her breasts, my thumbs below and my fingers at her back.
I snapped my eyes back open. Kak!
Shit! Get your shit together, Ian!
She lifted a notebook from her bag
and opened it. “Din-Gain?” she said. “What kind of name is that?”
“It’s Din-John-E,” I explained.
Her head shot up but she didn’t say
anything for a few moments, making me exceedingly nervous. I tucked my hair
behind my ears again and shoved my hands in my pockets. She opened her
incredible mouth, disabling my words. I involuntarily leaned over her.
“Are you the one they call Sophie?”
I asked stiffly, beyond pissed that I was going to be imprisoned for six months
with this heavenly looking girl, sharing a wall with her even. But as heavenly
as she looked, her reputation had preceded her and suddenly she dulled slightly
in my eyes. I knew what she was all about because I used to belong to her
superficial world.
“I am.”
“I am Dingane,” I explained.
“But you’re white,” she blurted.
Her eyes widened in embarrassment.
“You are incredibly astute,” I told
her.
“I’m sorry, I was-I was just
expecting an African,” she stammered.
I barely stifled an eye roll. “My
name is Ian. Dingane is a nickname, but I am African. My ancestors came
to South Africa in the seventeen-hundreds from England,” I explained away, not
really feeling like I owed her anything more since I found the statement
presumptuous.
“Oh. What-what does Dingane mean?”
she asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said and
bent to pick up her luggage.
“I can get that,” she said, reaching
toward the floor.
“I already have them. Follow me.”
Suddenly, her bumbling ways melted
away from her and she met me stride for stride. I watched her from the corner
of my eye. Maybe she isn’t an idiot.
I lead her to my jeep, threw the
bags into the back and began to strap them down. She stood there, watching me,
her eyes narrowed. She made me hotter than the heat that morning and that
royally pissed me off because Uganda is the surface of the sun.
“Are you expecting me to open your
door for you?” I huffed.
“Do I look like I expect you to open
my door for me?” she bit back.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Then why
stand there?” I asked.
“It would be presumptuous of me to
just sit inside your jeep without you, don’t you think? Possibly rude?”
My hands rested over the straps and
I stared at her, drinking her unbelievable face in. I remembered myself,
remembered my breeding and walked briskly to her side of the car, opening the
door for her before turning back to the driver’s side and letting myself in.
I sat and immediately inhaled her
intoxicating scent. It sent my eyes into the back of my head. She’s not good,
I kept telling myself. Stop it already.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Twenty,” I said succinctly.
I started the jeep and when we got
to open road, I told her, “It’ll take an hour to get to the city capital.
Kampala is a busy city, Miss Price, and I’d rather not stop, but I suspect it
will be our only opportunity to eat before the long journey back to Lake
Nyaguo.”
“I ate just before we landed,” she
said, though I suspected she was lying.
“If you’re game to go straight
through then so am I.”
And that was the last thing I said
to her almost the entire journey . . . because if I didn’t build a wall, I was
going to regret it. I just knew it. Nothing tempted me, nothing distracted me
and I needed to keep it that way. As long as she stops staring at you, as
long as you stop noticing her impossible legs . . . As long.
* * *
Chapter Seven
“That’s Lake Nyaguo,” I told her
after hours of silence. “Masego Orphanage is just north of this lake. Charles
owns the land we drive through now.”
“How much does he own?”
“Approximately five thousand acres.
He owns the land north of the lake as well as south and his property lines go
east from there.”
“Why did he buy land in Uganda?” she
asked.
“Why not?”
“Fair enough,” she conceded.
I sighed, exasperated with myself
more than with her. “This is his life’s work. He wanted the land to accomplish
it. Surprisingly, land in this part of Uganda is inexpensive.” I smirked,
couldn’t help myself.
Half an hour later, we’d rounded the
east side of the blue lake and were on a straight red dirt road.
“Masego is just five minutes up this
drive,” I stated.
“What’s it like?” she asked.
I thought about the children. “It is
beautiful. It is horrifying,” I told her truthfully. “I feel I must prepare
you,” I continued.
She visibly swallowed. “Prepare me
for what?”
“For the children here. Some will be
deformed.”
“Deformed?”
“Maimed.”
“I know what you meant but why?”
“Do you know nothing of our
facility?” I asked, briefly narrowing my eyes her direction. I was shocked
Pembrook didn’t tell her.
“I know nothing. I know only that it
is an orphanage.”
I breathed out slowly. “We are too
close to begin explaining now. Charles or his wife, Karina, should explain it
all to you when you arrive. I don’t have time. I’ve spent the entire day
driving to fetch you and I need to catch up on a mended fence at the
northeastern edge of the property line.”
“Thank you . . . for fetching
me,” she bit out.
I squirmed in my seat. I hated it
when she reminded me of how rude I was. I needed to get as far away from her as
possible, away from her sinfully beautiful face and mouth, away from the
ridiculous crush I was forming on the brat from Los Angeles.
Just a few meters away, I caught
sight of the Masego sign and felt a rush of relief.
“What does Masego mean?” she asked.
“Blessings.”
She studied me. I could feel her
gaze burning into the side of my face. “You’re a man of few words, Dingane of
South Africa.”
I fought a smile but quickly shook
it. Don’t let her get to you, I mumbled under my breath. I practically
jumped out of the jeep to open the gate. As I pushed apart the large doors, her
stare was so heavy on my back I had to stifle a shudder. Everything about her
was too sensual. Everything about her was too . . . much.
I hesitantly jumped back into the
jeep and steered us through before getting out once more and closing the gates
behind us.
When the children heard my jeep,
they came running out, crowding my side before I’d even come to a stop.
“Dingane! Dingane!” they all shouted
as they raced around to my side of the jeep.
They began to beat at the side,
urging me to get out but I couldn’t because they blocked me. I began laughing,
trying to free myself.
“Okay! Okay! I told them. Calm
yourselves! I’m here!”
Once I’d greeted them, they became
curious of Sophie and shyly tested the area around her. Sophie met my eyes.
They were wide and scared and I felt badly for not easing her into meeting
them. I nodded once, letting her know she needed to greet them.
She looked down on them and tried to
smile. I raised my hand and gestured toward her. “Children, this is Sophie
Price.”
“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,” they
repeated over and over.
“Hello,” she greeted them shyly.
Kato approached her and touched her
clothing. She stood still and the rest surrounded her completely. They pulled on
her clothing, telling her she was pretty, telling her she was nice, asking to
touch her hair and clothing. They tugged her down to their level and examined
her with their hands. To her credit, she let them and she smile gentled. They
smoothed her clothing over with their hands or ran their fingers over her hair.
A slight ping of envy as their little fingers threaded her hair resonated
through me, shaming me. Sarah told her she was “soft”. A green burn settled in
my gut.
She was fighting tears as I fought
the urge to recognize that she may actually be compassionate. Compassion was a
rare thing and it would have made her human. Humanity was lost on so many
people but you could never really tell as they all generally faked it. I’d only
known a handful of genuine humans and I doubted Sophie Price was one of them.
“Dingane, where is our prisoner?”
Charles asked, startling me from my revelry. The children scurried to his side
and glued themselves there. “Yes, yes, you’re all very excited to see our
newest member, but let’s all calm ourselves.” I watched her stand. “Now, where
is she? Ah, our latest victim!” he jested. He approached her and threw his arms
around her, picking her up in one motion and swinging her playfully from side
to side. “You must be the infamous Sophie Price! I’ve heard many things about
you, child!”
“All good I hope?” she asked. I
almost balked at that.
“No, not all good,” he told her
honestly, making her blush prettily.
She peered my direction but I had
nothing for her.
“But that is neither here nor
there,” Charles continued. “It has brought you to us and that is all that
matters. Second chances. I’m all about second chances.”
Second chances, I scoffed. But
didn’t they give you a second chance?
I ran away from my thoughts towards
the fence that needed mending.
* * *
When I was done with the fence, I
came walking around to my side of the hut but stopped short as Karina and
Sophie were there and I wanted to avoid Sophie Price until I got my attraction
to her under control.
“Come. I shall show you the
showers,” Karina told her.
Karina led her toward the showers
and I couldn’t help myself from following a few feet behind them. When Sophie
saw the stalls she shouted. She was terrified of the bugs. I stifled a laugh
close to rolling my eyes but the look of pure trepidation written all over her
face was enough to stop me. She was truly afraid and for some reason it pained
me to think of her panicked every time she needed to clean herself. I was
forming a plan courtesy of my heart and gut but my brain was screaming for me
to let her fend for herself. She won’t even have to know you do it, Din.
I turned and left them where they
stood. I noticed that her bags were still in the back of my jeep. I caught
Samuel by the arm as he walked by.
“Samuel, why haven’t you taken her
bags?” I asked out of desperation. I really didn’t want to be around her more
than I had to.
“Charles needs me,” he said in
explanation. “Can you take them?”
I blew out my frustration. “Fine,” I
said, heading straight for my jeep.
Maybe if you’re quick you can avoid
her. I
grabbed two bags and hustled to her side of the hut then ran back to the jeep
for the other two. I was out of breath as I set the last bag down but I
believed I’d missed her. I turned and almost ran into her.
“Samuel was busy,” I blurted.
“Ah, well, thank you, Dingane.”
“No problem,” I said, squeezing
through the tiny room toward the door. I turned around and stood a foot over
her, almost skin to skin. I swallowed. “You’ll want to lock your doors so no animals
try to get in,” I awkwardly advised and left, letting the door slam shut behind
me.
The boom made my eyes shut tightly.
I felt awful for leaving her like that. I turned, raised my hand and readied to
knock but hesitated, letting it fall to my side. I stood there, my breaths
panting in and out. I felt like an idiot.
I turned and pushed my own door open
with my foot, reaching around and pulling my shirt over my head when I heard a
scream. I tossed my shirt on the floor and ran over to her hut, my heart nearly
pounding out of my chest.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I-I . . .” she began but couldn’t
finish. She pointed to a black millipede on her mattress.
I breathed a little easier. “Oh,
it’s only a millipede. Archispirostreptus gigas, to be exact. Take care if you
come in contact with one, avoid touching your eyes and lips. They can be
harmful.” Smooth. You’re really smooth, Din.
“Get it out,” she ordered, eyes
clenched closed. I picked it up off her mattress and opened the door, setting
on the ground. I opened the door and noticed she still stood stock still, her
eyes closed. She opened one then the other before the distress of the moment
left her. She replaced it with something altogether hilarious.
“Stop judging me,” she quipped, her
upper lip stiff with resolve.
“Who said I was judging?” I lazily
drawled, resting my hands on my hips.
“I know when someone is judging me.
I can read people with impeccable accuracy. You’re thinking this spoiled
brat can’t even handle a simple insect. How will she handle Africa?”
“It is not an insect. It’s an
arthropod,” I deadpanned.
“So you’re a nerd then. Great, glad
we’ve established that,” she bit sarcastically.
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes, I was thinking that you were a
spoiled brat who won’t last two seconds here.”
Her eyes widened at my candid
response. She was taken aback, obviously unused to people calling her out. Her
mouth gaped open.
“I’ll show you,” she threatened, but
it lost steam by the last word.
I rushed her in that moment and the
movement stole her breath away, making my gut clench. I loomed over her and she
fought to keep her mouth closed. Her full lips begged to be kissed and I
clenched my jaw ashamed of my reaction. I turned my face away and took in her
diamond bracelet. You know why she’s here. I turned back to her. “Girl,
you are the epitome of spoiled. I can smell it in your expensive perfume, in
the quality of your ridiculous clothing, in the bracelet wrapped ’round that
delicate wrist.” I closed the gap between us and all the air sucked from the
room. We were a volatile mix. “You won’t last out here. You’ll stay blind to
the environment that surrounds you. You’ll live in your clean, perfect bubble
and return to your posh life come six months. You are . . . you. I know
your kind. I’ve seen it all before. You will never wake up. Not really,” I told
her before backing up and leaving her.
I stepped through my door
embarrassed by my words, embarrassed by my physical reaction to her. I fell
onto my bed, ashamed. When I heard her soft crying, my gut suffered for my
words. I turned toward the wall we shared and made myself hear her. I needed the
self-reproach. Finally, she lay in bed and the tears stopped, her breathing
grew steady and I placed my hand on the wall near where I felt her head would
be, aching to soothe her.
