the bush telegraph to spread the word to the others: They were friends of Apoloreng and were to be treated hospitably—another way of saying, Do not rob, harm, or molest these people. In case someone didn’t get the message, the Father of the Red Ox saw to it that a pair of askaris accompanied the mzungu lady, her companion, and their interpreter on their safari.
They were on safari not to photograph wild game but to get a picture of the latest drought to afflict the Turkanas’ much-afflicted homeland. Diana, the woman of good works, had a new project: funding a campaign to dig bore holes and thus provide the inhabitants of northwestern Kenya with a more reliable source of water than the heavens. Fitzhugh had gone along on the trip only for the chance to be near her.
Their affair had become common knowledge in Loki and among her Nairobi social circles, and the chatter was as cheap and predictable as he’d feared. Diana was painted as a randy woman of a certain age, Fitzhugh as an African gigolo taking advantage of a lonely, middle-aged white woman who also happened to be rich. It was pointless to protest; a protest would require him to answer the question “Then what are you doing with her?” and he could not, even to himself. He’d quit looking for answers. He was happy when he was with her, unhappy when he wasn’t—the whole thing was no more complicated than that.
Visiting the nomads’ camps, it delighted him to watch her, in the cotton trousers that clung to her high, ample hips, approach the circles of waiting elders with her sergeant major’s stride, and to see her lovely head bobbing under a wide straw hat as the interpreter translated the elders’ replies to her questions. She could have been making the rounds of dinners and cocktail parties in Karen; instead, she was bringing succor to a wasteland where cattle died on their feet and women had to walk half a day to find water. In a country ruled by thieves, hers was a heart that gave. If he needed a reason for his love, he could find no better.
She was not quite herself today, but pensive, reticent, and distant, a state Fitzhugh ascribed to her preoccupation with her project and to the dreadful conditions they saw, journeying from camp to camp. Her mood didn’t improve as they returned to Loki. She wore a sorrowful look, as if she were grieving over some loss. Passing through a pan of nearly treeless desolation, where termite mounds rose tall as chimneys and camels floated through the mirage on the horizon, they came to a broad riverbed. As the interpreter started to take the Land Rover across, Diana asked him to stop. She looked around, then pointed and murmured, “Please go that way.”
“I thought we were done for the day, memsahib,” the interpreter said. “Besides, there are no Turkana camps in that direction.”
“I know. Please go, it won’t be far.”
They rocked alongside the riverbed, dodging boulders, skirting clumps of acacia. At an oxbow bend, she called another halt.
“We’re going to take a walk,” she said to the interpreter. “You and the askaris wait here.”
“But memsahib—”
“We’ll be quite all right.”
Fitzhugh followed her around the oxbow, wondering what she was up to. He called her attention to the lowering sun—no one, not even Apoloreng, could guarantee their safety after dark. She said not to worry, they were going just a short way. “There, in fact.” She motioned at a mound of rubble and a broken concrete slab that lay against the riverbank. She walked beyond it in her resolute way, then sat down, her knees raised, her arms clasped around them.
“I used to come here whenever I had the chance, but it’s been years since the last time. I’m surprised I could still find it.”
It did not look like a “here” to Fitzhugh. Except for the slab of concrete, possibly the foot of an old bridge, he saw nothing to distinguish it from any other part of the desert. Patting the ground, Diana invited him to sit beside her.
“What is this about?” he asked.
“Kiss me first,” she said. “Kiss me like a man who loves me.”
She’d been so withdrawn all day that this demand startled him. He did his best to comply. “Now you will tell me what we’re doing here, yes?”
“I have been thinking about us quite a lot. There are some things I must tell you.”