Lois went to the gate. Clark emerged from behind the hut and added another log to the fire. Diddi put his books in the hut.
It felt like a family gathering together for a meal. The setting could hardly have been more different, but it was sharply reminiscent of the early years of his childhood in Smallville.
"Oh, yum," Diddi squeaked. "Gislane made fries."
Clark checked out the plate Lois handed him and found chunky, slightly yellow 'fries'.
"They're not exactly potatoes," Lois said. "But they taste great. And Diddi loves them. Gislane makes them as a treat for him."
Clark waited until Lois was seated and then sat two rocks away. Diddi plonked himself between them and began eating eagerly.
Clark pretended to study his food. Feeling her attention on him, he looked up and met Lois's eyes above Diddi's head.
"You OK?" she mouthed.
He nodded.
Her hand slipped behind Diddi's back and touched his arm.
It lasted less than a second, but her meaning was clear. This was her family, and he was welcome.
Part 17
"So," Diddi said, looking around expectantly. "Who's going to tell the first story?"
Clark stared at his feet.
"Why don't you go first, Diddi?" Lois suggested.
Her son looked up at the sky. "The moon's really bright tonight," he said. "Do you think the Earth ever looks really bright to them? Do they make up stories about us around the campfire?" He turned to Clark. "What do you think, Kent?"
Clark opened his mouth, could think of nothing in reply.
"Why don't you tell us more about the hog you saw yesterday morning?" Lois said.
"OK," Diddi agreed. "Me and Sylva were looking for cornflowers, 'cause she said they should be flowering right about now. We went to the bank and climbed down it."
"Did you use the path?" Lois asked.
"Yes," Diddi said, nodding. "But Sylva slipped, and she falled over. She said her ankle hurt, and she said I was going to have to carry her back to the village, but she was just joking." His grin flashed for a moment. "Then, I heard a noise at the top of the bank and a 'normous hog was there with great big tusks. He grunted at us, and I thought he was going to charge us. I screamed out, and the hog grunted some more. Then, I heard Romaric shout, and the hog must've heard him, too, 'cause it runned away."
"Was the hog injured?" Lois asked.
"I could only see his head and front legs. There wasn't no blood."
"Did Romaric say anything about a hog being so close to the village?"
"No. But he got him today. He speared him through the -"
"Did-di." The warning in Lois's tone made Clark want to smile.
"I'm going to be a hunter like Romaric when I grow up," Diddi said. Looking at Clark, he added, "Do you think I will be as big as you?"
"Maybe," Clark said.
"You're already as brave as Kent," Lois said. "I'm very proud of you for staying with Sylva."
"I was very glad when I heard Romaric," Diddi said. "I knew he would beat that stupid old hog."
"What did Romaric do then?" Lois asked.
"He came down and picked up Sylva," her son replied. "He put her on his back and carried her to the village. Just like he did with you, Maman."
"Romaric's a good man to have around when you're in trouble," Lois said.
"Tell Kent about how Romaric carried you to the village to be my maman," Diddi said. He turned to Clark. "My first maman died when I was born, so I needed a new maman. Romaric found her outside Bangala land and brought her to me so I wouldn't be an orphan."
"You're lucky to have such a good maman," Clark said, thinking of his own mom.
Diddi slipped his hand into Lois's. "Tell Kent about Romaric carrying you, Maman," he said. "That is one of my favourite stories. It took days and days, Kent, and -"
"Diddi," Lois said. "When we tell stories about things that really happened, we have to stick to the truth."
"OK," Diddi said, unabashed. "It was all night and half of the next day, too."
"That's still a long time," Clark said.
"Romaric found me at dusk," Lois said. "My leg was sore, and I couldn't walk very far."
"Just like Sylva," Diddi said with evident satisfaction.
"Romaric doesn't have much medical knowledge," Lois continued. "He knew he had to get me to Sylva. He carried me to a clearing near a river where he was camped. He looked after me through the night. He kept me warm. He used his shirt to bandage my leg to stop the bleeding. He shared his food with me. He lit a fire. He brought me water. He talked to me and tried to make me understand that I didn't need to fear him."
"You were fortunate he found you," Clark said, understanding the things she hadn't wanted to say in front of Diddi. Her pain. Her fear the gun runners would come after her. Her apprehension at being forced to trust a stranger. The isolation of being unable to communicate.
"Yes, I was," Lois replied. "It was the longest night of my life, but when the darkness finally started to lift, Romaric was ready. He put me on his back - he's not a tall man, not by Western standards, but he's strong. Hour after hour, he trudged through the rainforest, hoping his navigation was correct, hoping he would find Bangala land. About lunch time, we came to our river - the Bangala boundary - and he knew we were within a couple of hours of the village. He decided we had to stop - to eat and to rest. He caught a fish and cooked it and cajoled me into eating some of it. Then, we started out again."
"Romaric found my maman the day I was born," Diddi said. "He didn't know my first maman had died, but when he brought her into the village, Matymbou knew that Romaric had found my new maman."
"Romaric was beat when we finally arrived," Lois said. "A couple of the men came, and he told them to take me to Sylva."
"Sylva made her leg better," Diddi said. "She just has a big squiggly mark there now." He slid his hand from Lois's and took Clark's hand to examine his arm. "You don't have any marks from the green stuff."
"I think that's because your maman knew exactly how to help me," Clark said.
Lois's fire-lit brown eyes jumped into his and held him, squeezing the breath in his throat and quickening his heart.
"It's your turn now, Kent," Diddi said. "Tell us your favourite story."
Clark broke away from the lure of Lois's eyes. "I don't really have a favourite story," he said.
"You must have something," Diddi said. "I'm five. Tell us about something that happened when you were five."
"When I was five, I lived in Smallville, Kansas," Clark said.
"Kansas, huh?" Lois said.
He nodded.
"Did you live with your maman?" Diddi asked.
"Kent's parents died when he was young," Lois said, speaking to Diddi, although Clark knew her words were for his benefit. "Perhaps he doesn't want to talk about it."
"It's OK," Clark said with a little smile to Lois. "Yes, Diddi, I lived with my maman. And my father."
"Were they white?" Diddi asked. "Or black?"
"They were white."
"Children usually have the same colour skin as their parents, Diddi," Lois said.
"Oh," Diddi said. "So they were your real parents, Kent? From when you got born?"
Clark didn't reply for a moment. "They were my real parents, Diddi," he said quietly. "Just like Maman is your real mother."
He felt Lois's gaze leap to his face. He took a moment to gather his composure and then faced her scrutiny. Her eyebrow raised in question. His affirming nod was slight, but he knew she had understood - not only the fact that he'd been adopted, but so much more.
His uncertainties about his place in the world.
His doubts about who he was.
His appreciation of, and fascination with, families.
His yearning to belong.
Somewhere.
Anywhere.
She smiled, communicating more than could have been said with words.
His concerns - about the future, about her, about his presence with the Bangala, about everything - loosened their grip on his mind. The cloak of despair lifted from his shoulders.
Clark dragged it back, hunkering into its protection.
He would share the fire with Lois and Diddi. He would listen to their stories. He would observe their love and keep envy from tainting his enjoyment of their company.
But he would never allow himself to forget that this was all there could be.
Lois was another man's wife.
~|^|~
Lois awakened suddenly, jolting from dreamless sleep to tingling vigilance in less than a second.
Body tensed and breath stalled, she listened, focussing her attention outside the hut for dangers that could threaten her child. Hearing only the normal night sounds, she lifted from the pillow.
The dappled moonlight fell on the mattress at the foot of her bed, illuminating the small figure sleeping peacefully under the blanket.
Across from her, she could see Kent's shoulder, rising and falling to the tempo of his steady breaths.
Satisfied there was nothing of concern, Lois snuggled back into the warmth and closed her eyes.
Thoughts of Kent flooded her mind.
He was adopted.
His birth parents had probably been snatched from his life very early. Although he possibly had no memory of them, he still felt their absence keenly.
He'd lost both of his adoptive parents when he was ten years old. Lois hadn't asked him for details, but it seemed likely their deaths had been sudden and unexpected.
He'd lost his wife at a time when he'd been looking forward to welcoming a child into their family.
It was easy to understand how he had been brought to abject hopelessness.
But circumstances were temporary; the strength to rise again was innate.
And Kent had it.
Despair couldn't stand against hope. Isolation thawed in the warm glow of acceptance. Loneliness succumbed to love.
Trust could be restored, one atom at a time.
He had trusted her enough to allude to having been adopted, but he hadn't been prepared to go further, resisting all of Diddi's efforts to persuade him to tell a story about his childhood. Diddi had filled the void, eagerly assuming the role of storyteller as he'd relayed some traditional Bangala tales, augmenting them with his own penchant for creative license.
Kent had listened politely, smiled appropriately, and asked questions to help keep the story flowing.
Eventually, Diddi had tired, and Lois had sent him to use the amenities. She'd asked Kent if he were OK, he'd replied that he was, and then he'd excused himself, saying he wanted to check on the truck.
After settling Diddi into bed, Lois had waited at the campfire for Kent to return, trying to formulate the words that would best convey the circumstances of her marriage to Matymbou without giving the impression she had made the decisions about their future and Kent was left with no choice but to comply.
By the time Kent returned, she'd decided to continue the campfire stories with a brief explanation of Bangala marriage customs. From there, she had hoped it would be possible to ease into a clarification of her situation.
But she'd had no opportunity. Kent had bid her goodnight and gone into the hut.
Lois had remained by the fire, her thoughts bounding back and forth across the chasm between Kent's past and a future together that included everything his big gentle heart needed for happiness and contentment.
She longed to wrap him up in the abundance of her love. But that wasn't going to be possible until he was ready to receive.
And that was going to take time.
With a sigh, Lois had risen from the fire and slipped into her bed.
To her surprise, sleep had claimed her quickly.
Until now.
Now, she felt wide awake; restless in body and jittery in mind.
She turned over in search of a position conducive to relaxation and tried to empty her mind.
Visions of the cornflower bank, Diddi, Sylva, and the lurking presence of the hog engulfed the blankness.
She pushed them away, telling herself that Diddi was OK. He was safely asleep in the hut.
She steered her mind to the soccer game this afternoon and smiled. Even Kent had been drawn in by Diddi's enthusiasm.
Her best memory came from the moment when Diddi had flung himself at Kent in celebration of their goal. Kent's initial look of surprise had been quickly replaced with a smile - a smile that had brought tears to Lois's eyes.
Kent would be a wonderful father.
His adoptive father must have been a fine man. What had they been like? The Kansas couple who had adopted young Kent? How had they died? Their deaths being so close together seemed to indicate an accident rather than -
The sound of movement cut into her musings. She heard footsteps, gradually waning as they were swallowed up by distance.
Lois rolled over. Kent's bed was empty.
Trepidation gripped her heart.
Was he leaving?
He would probably be back in a few minutes, she told herself.
Her attempts at self-reassurance failed, and Lois slipped from her bed. She stopped at the doorway and peered into the murky shadows and shimmering moonlight of the quarantine area.
It was empty.
The gate was shut.
Where was Kent?
The amenities?
A noise from behind caused her to turn. Diddi hadn't moved.
Lois went out of the hut and began walking around it. In the moon-cast shadow, she saw the back of a tall figure. "Kent?" she whispered.
He turned, and she saw the truck in his hand. "Lois?" he said. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"What are you doing?"
He lifted the truck towards her. "It's been sixteen hours," he said. "I thought that if the light was good enough, I could paint the second coat while Diddi's asleep. Then it will be ready to give to him later today."
Relief pushed away her fears. "Is it light enough?" she asked.
Kent glanced to the sky. "I think so. There aren't many clouds."
"You must have good eyesight," she said.
He bent to pick up the pot of oil and the brush.
"Want some company while you paint?" Lois asked.
Kent straightened and looked at her, his face closed over. "I think … maybe you should go back to bed."
"There's something I want to tell you," Lois said. "If you're willing to listen, once I'm done, I'll leave you alone. You won't have to respond. I'm not asking anything from you. I just think it would be better if you knew the truth."
"Lois …"
"What are you scared of, Kent?" she asked gently.
"Everything," he said with a sigh.
"Please, Kent? Please give me a few minutes?"
"If it's about your marriage, I don't think we should -"
"Please, just hear me out?"
His nod was brusque as he walked past her.
Lois followed him.
He set up the table in a patch of light. He didn't look at her as he began sanding the truck.
Lois took a deep breath, wondering how Kent would react.
Wondering if her revelation would change nothing.
Or whether it would change everything.
~|^|~
The tension through Clark's body pooled in his fingers, making them feel thick and awkward as he rubbed the roughened paper over the truck's cabin.
What did Lois want to tell him? Whatever it was, it was important to her.
He'd known that, eventually, she was going to ask about how he'd gotten to the Congo. And how the green rock had become implanted in his flesh. And why it hadn't killed him. And how he had healed so quickly.
He'd dreaded her asking anything that risked eroding the mask that concealed his alienness.
But this wasn't about him.
This was about her.
Her marriage.
His fears about that were even greater than his fears about her finding out he didn't belong on this planet.
Because, if she said she was willing to leave Matymbou, Clark wasn't sure he would be able to stand strong and do the right thing.
It should be easy; he knew the pain of being abandoned in favour of someone else.
But Lois …
If she expanded on the something else - the something other than friends - Clark wasn't sure he would be able to resist.
He would have to leave.
She hadn't spoken. He glanced up. She was staring at his hands as they worked to smooth the cabin of the truck. "Lois … perhaps it would be best if neither of us said anything."
She broke from her reverie. "Please, Kent. Please let me explain something. It's important."
After everything she had done for him, Clark couldn't refuse her. "OK," he conceded, wondering if Lana's betrayal had been a series of small steps, each one taking her further away from him.
"Matymbou and me," Lois said. "Our marriage is not what you may be thinking."
Clark's throat jumped as his heart roared like thunder proclaiming a coming storm.
"My name is Lois Laka-Matymbou," she continued. "'Laka' means 'pledged to'. I guess it's something like a Western engagement, but it's more than the prelude to marriage. Matymbou is officially my husband, and I'm his wife, and we say we are married."
Clark hadn't heard much beyond 'engagement'. He turned the truck over and began sanding the wheels, his mind forming a glutinous gel of trepidation and disbelief. He had to concentrate on the facts. On what was, not on what could be. "When are you going to marry him?" he asked coolly. "Properly?"
"I'm married to him properly already," she said. "We have a laka-marriage. There is also a bomoi-marriage. That involves children … or the desire for children. Matymbou and I have never wanted that."
"You don't want children? Other than Diddi?"
"Not with Matymbou."
"You got engaged, he became your 'husband', but neither of you wants to be really married?" Clark grabbed at wispy curls of comprehension. "Did someone else force you? Some law about a non-Bangala woman having to be married?"
"No. Nothing like that."
Clark stopped sanding and let his hands drop to his sides. "What are you trying to tell me, Lois?"
"I've already told you how Matymbou gave me Diddi after his other parents died? And that Diddi's father was Romaric's brother?"
Clark nodded.
"As soon as the quarantine was over, Romaric started coming to visit me," Lois said. "As we spent more time together and began to communicate, my respect and admiration for him increased. I would have died without him, but he never took advantage of my vulnerability. Nor did he expect anything in return."
"You're married to Matymbou, not Romaric."
Lois nodded sadly. "I encouraged Romaric to come and see Diddi. I was so pleased that he wanted to be involved in Diddi's life. Then, one day, Romaric asked me to marry him, and I realised that he hadn't been coming just to see Diddi. He loved me … but I didn't feel that way about him."
"Because you were in love with Matymbou?"
"No," Lois said quickly. "I cared about Romaric. I loved him. I trusted him. But marrying him would have been an act of gratitude, not an act of love. And he deserves so much more than that."
Clark felt a wave of sympathy for Romaric. To love Lois. To love Diddi. To yearn to be the husband and father who completed their family. Only to be told that Lois … didn't feel that way about him.
"He said he understood," Lois said. "But a few months later, an older man approached Romaric to ask if he would be interested in courting his daughter. Romaric refused. I asked him why he'd refused, and he said he would always live in hope that I would change my mind about marrying him."
"Was Romaric harassing you?" Clark said. "Is that why you married Matymbou?"
"No," Lois said emphatically. "Romaric has always been a perfect gentleman. That's what made everything so difficult."
"Why did you marry Matymbou?"
"Matymbou had fallen into the habit of coming to see me in the evening," Lois said. "Initially, he came to check on Diddi. To make sure I was caring for him. But he kept coming long after it was obvious Diddi was thriving. We would have a cup of tea together and chat - him teaching me Bangala and me teaching him English. We talked of many things - customs, values, traditions, love, fulfilment, honour, grief, disappointment, responsibility. I found that I looked forward to his visits. He reminded me of someone I used to know back in America.
"One day, Matymbou asked me if I loved Romaric and I told him the truth. Matymbou advised me to wait, to see if feelings developed. I did … but they didn't. I knew I was hurting Romaric, and I couldn't stand it any longer, so one night, I told Matymbou I was going to accept Romaric's offer of marriage. I told him that marrying Romaric was a way of saying 'thank you' for everything he had done for me. Matymbou said that would be a mistake. I told him I didn't feel I had any choice. He suggested I marry him - Matymbou. He said that if we married, perhaps Romaric would feel free to find real happiness with another woman."
"Did he?"
"Romaric has never married. He's always respectful of my position as Matymbou's wife. He's always there to help when I need it. He treats Diddi like a son. But he's never again mentioned his feelings for me." Lois sighed. "Now, over four years later, I still don't know if what Matymbou and I did was kind or cruel."
"Four years?" Clark said. "Do people ever ask why you don't have children? Why you haven't moved past the engagement stage?"
"It's not really stages," Lois said. "Some couples stay in a laka-marriage for many years. If the woman becomes pregnant, it becomes a bomoi-marriage - which is intended to be a lifelong commitment."
"So because you don't have a child with Matymbou, you can't have the other sort of marriage?"
"We can. But we decided at the start to remain pledged."
"You don't mind being in a relationship …" Clark stopped.
"A relationship going nowhere?" Lois said. "I know it seems like that from an American viewpoint, but it doesn't feel like that. I told Matymbou I didn't think I would ever love him as a wife should love her husband. He laughed and said that was OK because he would never love anyone other than Kabibi. We both agreed. We both thought we would be helping Romaric to move on."
"What does Matymbou get from the arrangement?"
"He'd had a few ladies approach him. He wasn't interested. In fact, their attention just made him long for Kabibi. He figured that if he married me, it would send a clear message to everyone that neither of us was available."
"You gave up your chance to be married for love?"
"Not gave up. Matymbou is quite a few years older than I am. When he suggested we marry, he promised me that if I ever wanted to be married for love, he would give me to the man of my choice."
"He would 'give' you?" Clark said. "That sounds as if he owns you."
"Not at all. I made the same promise to him. When a couple is 'pledged' rather than 'joined', either one can give the other away. If Matymbou asked me, I would give him to any woman of his choice."
"So a laka-marriage isn't a lifelong commitment?"
"It doesn't have to be," Lois said. "But it usually only ends if one of the partners decides they would rather be with someone else."
"Your feelings for Romaric have never changed? You've never thought you could marry him?"
"No. He's one of my closest friends. I owe him everything. I love him. But I don't want to be his wife."
"Does he know the truth about you and Matymbou?"
"He knows we are pledged. He's never asked why we married or the nature of our plans."
"Do you think he suspects?"
"I don't know," Lois said. "But all this time, I have hoped he would fall in love with a young woman who would make him the happiest man in the Bangala."
A thought struck Clark. What did 'joining' entail? Another ceremony? Did all 'pledged' people share the intimacies of marriage?
"I thought you should know that my marriage to Matymbou is about our concern for Romaric, our friendship, and our deep mutual respect," Lois said. "It's not … It doesn't have to be a barrier to ... what I … what we might want in the future."
Clark stared into the darkness, unable to decide if this were the best news of his life or the worst. No, it wasn't the worst - Lana had captured that place in his memory. But being with Lois. Being with available Lois. He would love her. He didn't have the strength to resist. He would love her.
The silence droned between them, heavy with possibilities too big, too intimidating, too overwhelming to grasp.
"Do you have any other questions?" Lois asked.
Clark shook his head, unable to pluck anything coherent from a mind in meltdown.
Lois lightly touched his shoulder. "Goodnight, Kent," she said. "Thank you for listening."
And then, she turned and walked into the hut.
