Fever (6 page)

“Bad news?” Sara stood in front of her, water dripping from her and dimpling the sand around her feet.

Zak jumped up so quickly that Sara backed away. “Where’s my room?”

“Room 210, facing the ocean, as requested.”

“Can I have the key, please?”

“Well, here’s what I was thinking.” Sara moved into Zak’s body space and leaned in as if she intended to whisper some state secret. “Why don’t we enjoy the beach for the rest of the afternoon? I’ll even challenge you to a windsurfing race, if that’ll make it more appealing. Competition seems like your kind of thing. Then we could have dinner in the open-air restaurant. They have live music. Sound good?”

“Can I just have the key?” Why was a simple question so hard for this woman to answer?

The enthusiasm that had brightened Sara’s sun-kissed face disappeared. “I just thought since we’re only here for the night, we could enjoy it.”

“The key.” Their exchange had started to attract attention that Zak couldn’t afford.

“It’s at the desk along with my luggage and purse.”

“You left your purse at the desk, unattended?”

“What’s with you? The desk clerk knows me and is watching my stuff. I was anxious to get in the water, so I changed at the poolside restroom. I’ll go get the key and meet you at the room.”

“Fine, and try to be more careful. We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

As Zak headed toward the row of flat-topped buildings, her temper began to cool. She’d overreacted after reading the article and taken it out on Sara. Such behavior was uncharacteristic, not to mention unprofessional. And the disappointment on Sara’s face bothered Zak more than it should. Maybe she’d try to make amends later. After all, Sara wasn’t to blame for the emotional baggage Zak had schlepped back to Africa.

*

“And after tomorrow, I won’t be your problem anymore,” Sara mumbled as she watched Zak slink around the side of the building like a stalker. She picked up the crumpled paper Zak had been reading and scanned the pages. When she didn’t find anything noteworthy, she dropped it into a trash can on her way to the office. A few minutes later she was checked in and following the bellhop to her room.

When the hotel employee left, Zak stood at the top of the stairs next to their rooms. She had an unnerving habit of disappearing and reappearing without warning. “Here’s your key.” Sara handed it to her without further comment and started to close the door, but Zak stuck her foot out to stop it.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in having dinner together in your room. It has a great ocean view and we can probably even hear the music from there.”

Sara stared at her in disbelief. Zak had dismissed her like an irresponsible child and now wanted to have dinner. Part of her wanted to scream, “Hell no
.
”Instead, she heard herself say, “Sure.”

“Great. Order whatever you want. I’ll be back in an hour.” Zak started to leave, then turned back toward her. “Is that enough time?”

“Sure.” Sara closed the door and scolded herself aloud. “Sure? Now you sound like your noncommunicative guide. Why didn’t you just say no?” The question returned continuously as she showered and took entirely too much time deciding what to wear. She settled on a pair of beige linen shorts and a light green short-sleeved cotton blouse.
It’s not a date,
she reminded herself.

She ordered her favorite lobster dish from the memorized menu and wondered what Zak would choose. In ninja mode she could probably gnaw through the elaborately hand-carved wooden door without difficulty. But she had no idea what Zak would prefer in a more conciliatory frame of mind. Sara finally settled on surf and turf with salad.

While she waited for room service, Sara dialed Rikki’s cell. The background noise was so loud when she answered that Sara couldn’t hear her at all. “Rikki? Rikki, are you there?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m here. What’s up?”

“I can barely hear you. It sounds like a party. Where are you?” There was a long pause.

“I’m at Lois’s house. She had a few people over. Wait a second while I step outside.” The noise lessened a bit.

“I’m surprised Lois hasn’t run you out. It’s after one in the morning there.” Sara thought her driver was more responsible. She’d never known her to entertain so late on a work night.

“It probably won’t be long. Has that gorgeous bodyguard hit on you yet?”

Surprise and something else quivered through Sara as she considered the question. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then she’s not as smart as I thought. Hey, baby, can I call you back in a while? Things are starting to break up.”

“Yeah, I’m about to have dinner but I’ll be free after that.”

“Okay, love ya.”

Sara started to answer but the line went dead. “Love ya, too.” She understood that Rikki didn’t like to be alone, but why couldn’t she occupy her time with family or volunteer or just read a book? Why did everything have to be a party? But that just wasn’t Rikki, and Sara had accepted that fact, more or less. She moved to the balcony and let the ocean breeze take her memory back.

The last time she was here was with her mother a year ago to review recommendations for the location of the school. Instead of making site visits, her mother insisted on using a group of developers and advisers familiar with the interior of the country. The hands-off approach should have been Sara’s first indication of a problem. But her mother assured Sara that everything was fine. During their stay, her energy was low, her conversations more introspective, and her attention to Sara too motherly. Why hadn’t she recognized that her mother was ill, dying of cancer? With classic Ambrosini stubbornness, she chose to fight the illness alone and without extraordinary measures. She simply wanted to live her life to the fullest until the end.

That was the type of determination that drove Sara every day. The desire to honor her parents by living a full and happy life colored everything she touched. It made her impatient with excuses and negativity, hungry for the passion and excitement of life, and generous with her time and money. She wondered about her relationship with Rikki and how it figured into her life plan. She was certainly not Sara’s usual type, a bit too femme and way too flighty. Their super-sexual but substantively void arrangement wasn’t what she’d envisioned either. But Sara’s type hadn’t worked out and she’d purposely deviated, hoping for another outcome. She walked back into the room, telling herself that her decreasing satisfaction with Rikki had nothing to do with her increasing fascination with Zak Chambers.

A triple tap announced the arrival of her dinner companion. Sara opened the door and felt her mouth drop open. Zak stood in the soft light of the Arabic lanterns that lined the walkway wearing a pair of faded jean shorts and a turquoise tank top that made her skin seem more lustrous and her eyes sparkle with reflected color. She had been attractive in her stark black outfits, but Sara was not prepared for the unassuming beauty that stood before her. “You’re gorgeous.” The look in Zak’s eyes confirmed that she’d spoken her last thought. “It’s my curse for being an extrovert. Whatever comes up comes out.”

Zak smiled. “May I?” She motioned toward the room.

Sara realized she’d been standing in the doorway staring shamelessly for several minutes. She blushed and stepped aside. “Of course, I’m sorry. I say that to you a lot, don’t I?”

“The gorgeous part or the sorry part?”

“Now you’re teasing me.” Sara liked the easy banter and Zak’s broad smile. It transformed her face from a mask of worry to a relaxed visage of glowing skin and dancing eyes. “The sorry part. I spend a lot of time asking people for their money, so apologizing comes naturally.” She waved Zak in and watched her strut toward the lanai. “Dinner should be here shortly.” As if on cue, another knock sounded at the door, and within minutes dinner was set up on the balcony overlooking the ocean.

When Zak pulled out her chair and waited for her to be seated, Sara found her action gallant and romantic. Such a simple gesture, but it seemed intimate in a way she’d never felt with Rikki. Maybe because she hadn’t considered Zak Chambers in any context other than a hired, unsociable nuisance. She had a gentleness, another layer beneath the deliberately fashioned façade. A pang of guilt reminded her of Rikki as Zak filled their glasses with wine.

“Thank you for doing this,” Zak said, as she dug into her salad with gusto.

“My pleasure,” Sara replied, noting that it felt exactly like that. She wanted to ask why Zak had suddenly invited her for dinner but decided it was enough that she had. Besides, she was certain she wouldn’t answer the question anyway. As the meal progressed Zak seemed content to let the entire evening pass in silence. But Sara wanted to know many things, and she didn’t waste opportunities.

“Is everything ready for the trip inland?”

“Yes.”

“Did you find all the supplies?”

“Yes.”

This wasn’t working the way she’d hoped. “Is there anything I need to know?”

“No.”

These monosyllabic responses were starting to annoy Sara. Perhaps a change in strategy. “Can I ask a question? I know, that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Sure.”

“What was so upsetting in the newspaper today?”

Bingo. The lines along Zak’s jaw tightened as she slowly rested her fork on the side of her plate. “There might be a slight problem at the site. Nothing for you to worry about. I’ll brief the new guide when he arrives.”

Sara’s temper rose at the dismissive remark. “Ms. Chambers, I’m not some uneducated debutante who needs to be protected from the truth. This is my project, my work, we’re talking about and I expect to be fully informed of any possible complications. And furthermore, I’m really tired of these unilateral decisions you’ve been making on my behalf. It’s bad enough that you’ve decided to leave without any real justification—unless you consider accidental touching a terminal offense. If it affects me or this project, I expect to be consulted. Can you understand and accept that?”

“Yes.” The gentleness Sara had seen earlier vanished, replaced by a piercing, unemotional stare.

“So? What’s the potential problem?”

“A government official could cause trouble.”

“Titus Wachira?”

“What do you know of Wachira?”

“You’re not the only one who can read.”

The expression on Zak’s face became more earnest as her brow furrowed and the crow’s-feet around her eyes deepened. “You have to promise that you won’t engage Wachira for
any
reason.”

“What’s so terrible about him? He’s just a cop.”

“At best Wachira is a corrupt, self-serving bureaucrat. At worst he has deadly potential. He’s without morals, dangerous. Take your pick, just promise me, please.”

The urgent tone of Zak’s request touched Sara. There was obviously history between the two, and it felt more personal than professional. “I promise to
try
. Guess I’ll have to find a way around him if he tries to disrupt plans for the school.”

“Has anyone ever accused you of being stubborn?”

“I prefer to call it resilient. It’s another family curse, sort of like blurting whatever comes to mind.” Sara hoped her teasing would distract Zak from the touchy subject of Wachira.

“That’s as close to a promise as I’ll get from you, isn’t it?” Zak cut off a hefty slice of steak, stuck it in her mouth, and chewed like she was trying to digest nails.

“Yes.” The tension in Zak’s body vibrated from her as she sat rigidly in her chair, pushing food around on her plate that she probably wouldn’t eat. Sara wanted to lighten the mood and see that stunning smile again. She poured them another glass of wine and asked, “Where did you get the name, Zak? Is there some long family story behind it?”

Zak was quiet for a few minutes, her face a study in conflict. Sara was patient, giving her most reassuring smile. “My father had a twisted sense of humor. The Bible-thumpers passing through Kenya were studying the Old Testament book of Zechariah when I was born. He insisted on naming me Zakaria. It has some connection to God and being called.”

“It suits you, sort of old soul and worldly at the same time.” Sara felt a sense of accomplishment at having finally tweezed one morsel of personal information out of Zak. She tried her luck again. “Have you been to Mombasa before?”

“Yes.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Boring business. Why don’t you tell me about your favorite visit here?”

They were back to one-word answers and diversions. But if a recitation of her times in Mombasa would relax Zak and open her up a bit more, Sara would happily recount her entire childhood.

“It would be a toss-up between my seventh and twenty-fourth birthdays. When I was seven, my father taught me to windsurf. He said I was a natural. I had this amazingly powerful perception of controlling the elements when I was out there. I still feel that rush on the water. It’s the only time I feel in control of my life anymore and like I’m doing something more than just handing out money.” Sara stopped, unable to believe she’d said that out loud. “The curse again.”

Zak’s attention made Sara feel she was truly being heard. “My twenty-fourth birthday was the last trip my mother and I took together that wasn’t work related. We walked around Old Town and Fort Jesus marveling at the three-foot-thick walls and wondering what life must’ve been like for people living there. Mostly we just talked for hours about the world, the absurdity of violence, hunger, and children in need. Some of the best conversations of my life were with my mother.” Sara paused and felt her eyes mist with tears.