“That’s fine with me.”
He raised his left hand and placed his palm on the back of my neck, sending a tight heat barreling through my body only for it to settle in my belly. I smiled at him. He flirtatiously smiled back and I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. He squeezed a little bit and dropped his hand. I felt a little sad for the brief moment his skin had touched mine. It never seemed long enough. It was incredible to me that I felt that way.
Every time I’d ever let a boy touch my body felt suddenly wrong, suddenly heavy on the heart and soul and I found myself regretting my past life. I’d never really felt that before. I steeled myself against the guilt though, knowing how sorry I was for it. I stood taller, lighter, knowing that although the grief of regret laid heavily on my heart, it didn’t mean I couldn’t move forward, that God wouldn’t forgive me. It also meant that I could forgive myself, especially since I then knew exactly what it meant to be treated with respect. And that was a heady, heavy feeling of euphoria.
A few minutes passed and the older children joined in the raucous. I’d never seen such purely happy people in my entire life. They screamed with joy, jumped and dived, splashed and played with one another. They had this moment and they were ecstatic. They had this simple joy and it was free. Another something I never thought possible. To me, the only time I’d ever convinced myself I was happy was when I could whip out my credit card and charge it.
I’d come to Uganda to fulfill a mandatory sentence but was being fulfilled in a completely unexpected manner and happily, with my full consent. I’d come to help teach these children but instead they were teaching me.
“What are you thinking about?” Ian asked me, his eyes roaming the water’s edge and his mouth silently counting heads.
“Nothing,” I lied.
“That’s an untruth,” he teased, glancing my direction and prodding his shoulder with mine.
“Fine, if you have to know,” I happily pushed back, glad for the brief contact. “I’m thinking that I’m very happy I came to this place.”
His eyes widened briefly and he studied me intently. “What brought on this revelation?”
“Them,” I said, pointing to the boisterous laughing orphans sloshing about.
“And why, Sophie Price, have they made you so happy, do you think?”
“They are funny little representatives of simplicity, of awareness. No one is more aware of themselves as these children are. They have nothing, have no one but us, have seemingly no reason to be hopeful...yet they are. They choose to be happy even though the obviously easier choice would be to be frightened or sad and they have real reason to be those things as well. But they have life and faith and hope and love and they choose those things. Their innocence is addicting, their hope is catching and I’m happy to be surrounded by them.”
Ian didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge what I’d told him. Instead, he looked at me. Really looked at me. It was a deep, penetrating stare, one that a few months before would have left me quaking in my metaphorical boots but not then. Then, I found myself opening the window further for him. I leaned over the ledge and reached my hands out to him to bring him even closer. I was inviting him to see me as I was because I was no longer ashamed. I’d tossed the heavy, bleak curtains, removed the grime coating the view and opened myself up.
His tense shoulders relaxed and finally he nodded but only once. We both turned back toward the water and did our jobs.
Three hours later and the kids were exhausted and starving. We loaded everyone up again, half of our jeep was already full of sleeping children and I couldn’t help but laugh a little at how adorable I found that. Ian and I jumped into the front seats and started the engine but Charles unexpectedly ran up to Ian’s window.
“Karina and I thought you two may want an afternoon break?” he asked. “I could drive the jeep back and you two could stay and swim for a while, as long as you’re okay with walking back.”
“Seriously?” I asked Charles.
“Don’t act so surprised, Sophie. You and Din have done a lot the past few days. Everyone needs a little break now and then.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
We watched the dust from the trucks settle as the jeeps bumbled through the dusty field and toward Masego. My heart leapt in my chest instantly knowing Ian and I were alone for, really, the first time. There would be no children ready to jump out from corners or Masego adults with their watchful eyes, memorizing our every move.
“We’re alone,” Ian whispered, startling me.
I turned toward him, my lids feeling a bit too heavy from the heat of the sun. Or was it the heat of his stare?
“Very,” was all I could muster.
Ian’s eyes traveled from my face down my neck and over my shoulder, the searing fiery gaze branded as it trickled over my skin and soon his hand found that very neck, shoulder and arm until it wrapped itself around my own hand. He brought me closer to him and whispered in my ear.
“Run,” he said quietly before a slow-burning grin split him from ear to ear.
My heart leapt into my throat when I took in the sparkle in his eyes. He winked once, as if in slow motion, and that was my cue. I took off running toward the water, my lungs pumping air in and out of my chest as I hurdled plant life and rock. The only sounds I could hear were the rhythmic pounding of blood in my eardrums on beat with each drop of Ian’s boots behind me. Adrenaline raced through me knowing he was so near. He seemed to be getting closer and I couldn’t fight the grin spreading slowly across my face in anticipation.
A slight giggle escaped my lips imagining the prospect of what was to come. I caught the sound of Ian’s breath hitching before I felt him move even faster, his heat giving away just how nearby he was.
A burst of laughter fell from me when his hands scooped me up around the waist, dragging me to him. His arms enveloped my entire body when he knew he had me, his hands wrapped my shoulders and we tumbled to the ground just short of the water. We were both laughing hysterically despite the fact we were sides deep in mud.
“You almost made it,” he teased in my neck.
“I slowed on purpose,” I lied.
He laughed loudly.
“Liar.”
My wide smile met his.
He stood and dragged me up with him. “Care to join me?” he asked, toeing his shoes off.
I gulped.
“Turn around.”
He stopped mid-bend to remove his shoe and studied me. “Whatever for?”
“I-I only had this bikini thing I’d brought from home and I-uh-I’m not exactly decent, but I don’t want to get this t-shirt wet.”
“You can’t be serious, Soph.”
“Deadly,” I teased.
“You do know this water is fairly clear, right?”
“Not that clear, Ian.”
He did that thing boys do where they pull their shirts over their heads with one swoop. I felt drunk with too much eye consumption. My stare roamed his incredibly chest and stomach and my mouth gaped. I tucked my tongue back into my mouth and bit my lip to keep it from falling back out. He winked and I laughed out loud.
“You’re ridiculous,” I told him, setting up my little iPod station and turning up the volume to American Daydream by Electric Guest.
“Your turn,” he teased.
“No, no, no, Ian. Go ahead and put your fine self in that water.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek before diving in quickly. His head bobbed up, water sluicing down his neck and shoulders, his wet hair dark as night. Butterflies swarmed.
“Stay facing that way, “ I told him.
He visibly sighed but kept his back toward me. I bent to remove my shoes and shimmied from my shorts and t-shirt. My arms instinctively covered my stomach knowing what Karina would say if she saw me in that moment.
“Hurry up!” Ian yelled.
“I am! I am!” I smiled.
I toed the water and hissed at how cold it was. I hated that part. I edged my way in, cringing with every step until my body became accustomed to the temperature just as Agnes Obel’s Avenue began to play.
When I was shoulder deep, I called out to him. “Okay, you can turn now.”
He turned and smiled. “It was a futile effort, you know?” he said, stalking me slowly.
“What was?” I asked, backing up as he edged my direction.
“Making me turn. It was a pointless effort,” he said, closing in.
“How’s that?” I asked, gulping down a giddy giggle.
“Because,” he said, rushing me playfully and wrapping his hands around my waist. My hands rested on his wet shoulders. “Tsk, tsk, Miss Price, skin to skin. What would Karina say?”
I pushed at his chest. “Ian.”
“I’m only playing.” He ran his hands up my back and settled them on my neck. “There. Comfortable?”
I jokingly pushed him a little in answer.
It got quiet for a moment. He reached both hands up and ran them over the top of my head and gathered the rest of my hair, twisting it in a fist at the back of my neck. “I’m going home,” he told my brow.
My heart dropped.
“What?” I asked, suddenly confused, my stomach mixing space with my heart.
“My brother Simon wrote me last week asking if I’d come home for a two-day visit. It seems he has something to tell me and he’d prefer to do it in person.”
“Oh, I-I-I mean, that’s-that’s great, Ian. When do you leave?” I asked, swallowing back my uneasiness.
I didn’t want him to go. I realized in that moment that I equated Ian with security. The idea of him gone made my chest press and feel tight.
“Day after tomorrow,” he told me, running his thumbs across my forehead and down my cheeks.
“So-so soon?” I gulped.
“I realize it’s short notice and all...”
“It’s okay.”
“But I was wondering if, maybe, you might be interested in going with?”
My eyes shot open. “Seriously?”
He smiled. “Seriously. It’s only two days. Karina already said yes. She’ll keep that out of the report she is sending back with you for court,” he winked.
My heart started pounding but this time in excitement. “Oh my word, yes.”
He picked me up and swung me around in the water. “Good,” he simply stated.
“What do you think Simon wants?” I asked when he set me back down.
He shrugged his shoulders. “No earthly idea, but I’m glad you’ll be meeting my family.”
“You-you are?” I asked, stunned. No one had ever willingly wanted me to meet their parents before.
“Of course,” Ian explained, looking at me like I was making no sense. “Simon especially will adore you.”
“Is Simon older or younger?” I asked, curious.
“He’s older, twenty-five, the charming one. My parents adore him. He’s also the one who always gets the girls.”
I balked at that. “My God, he’s the one who gets the girls? What? Is he made of chocolate or something? I can’t imagine anyone would be interested in anyone else but you, no matter who you’re pitted against.”