Chapter 20
“ I was promised a smooth ride,” Amelia said. Once again they had scored another vehicle that seemed to be lacking shocks. Though, to be fair, it may have had shocks at one time that all broke after so many hard trips over rutted roadways. Last night’s rain had left even deeper ruts and, in some places, washed away portions of the road entirely. Their driver seemed unfazed by all of it, maintaining the same high rate of speed regardless of the road’s condition.
“This is only the first part of the trip. He’s taking us to a bigger city where we’ll have access to a better car and a better road,” Ethan yelled. The wind carried his voice away, but Amelia got the gist.
“Don’t know why you want to trade out cars, mate. This one could get you through a war and back,” the driver yelled. He was Australian and, unlike the French-speaking natives they’d encountered, seemed to want to have input on everything. Every time Amelia or Ethan spoke, he gave his unwarranted opinion. His name was Jones. Amelia had no idea if it was a first or last name because he had introduced himself as “Just Jones.” “Like Cher?” she’d asked, and he had given her a blank look with the reply, “No, it’s Jones.”
“Jones thinks we should keep this car,” Amelia relayed.
“Jones thinks a lot of things,” Ethan replied. Jones had spent a long time detailing for them why he thought it was a bad idea for them to honeymoon in Cameroon, as had been their official story. He had also spent a long time expounding on how he would solve the most recent Ebola outbreak in the Congo. Amelia had missed most of that discussion because at the first mention of the disease, she’d pressed her palms over her ears, tuning in at the end to hear him say, “And that’s what I’d do with all the leftover blood.”
“You’re so adorably squeamish,” Ethan said.
“No, I merely maintain the crazy belief that what’s inside of you should stay there,” Amelia said.
“You’d never survive here then,” Jones added. “One time I saw this bloke’s leg get…”
Amelia had no idea how the story ended because she pressed her palms back over her ears until he stopped speaking. “I could have used the monkeys help much more with him than with you,” she noted.
“Monkeys? Ah, no, they’re pesky little beasties,” Jones announced. “And the diseases they carry. I once saw a bloke…”
Ethan reached over and pressed his palms to Amelia’s ears for the duration of the story. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
The drive to their first stop seemed unusually long, mostly because Amelia spent much of it with her hands pressed to her ears. “There should probably be a store in this town, if you need anything,” Ethan said, removing her palm from her ear as they approached the town.
“Really?” Amelia asked excitedly. She needed everything.
“Ah, no, mate, those stores are for the tourists,” Jones interjected.
“Jones, we are tourists,” Ethan reminded him.
“Yeah, but I’ll show you where the good stuff is, all the animal skulls and monkey paws, yeah? We have to go into the bush a bit, but as long as you’ve got your gun, you’ll probably come out all right,” Jones said, giving them an eager glance in the rearview mirror.
“Thank you, Jones, but I’d rather have a comb and toothbrush and not have to use the gun to get them,” Amelia said. “Unless of course there’s only one left and I have to fight someone for them.”
“Ah, you Americans are never up for any adventure,” Jones groused.
“We do all right,” Ethan said, squeezing Amelia’s knee.
“Where’d you lovebirds meet?” Jones asked.
“My sister’s house,” Amelia supplied.
“I used to have a sister, but then one day she…”
Amelia never learned what happened to the sister because she slipped her fingers in her ears, surreptitiously this time. She didn’t want to be rude to Jones, but she was glad she hadn’t listened when Ethan turned to her, shell shocked, and whispered, “Remind me to call my sister when this is over.”
When they reached the town, Ethan walked Amelia to the tiny little store and deposited her in front of the section that was clearly supposed to appeal to western tourists. There was an oversized plastic comb that looked as if it had been made during the Carter administration along with some lip balm, something with a German title she guessed to be deodorant, a small display of pink lip gloss, perfume from France, and, miraculously, one container of Maybelline mascara. She picked up the tube of mascara and cradled it in her palm. Perhaps it was shallow, but she missed her makeup. She knew she was blessed to have a good complexion and pleasant features, and she didn’t take that for granted. But she still enjoyed employing the full power of makeup. The application process always made her feel like an artist at work on a canvas, except the canvas was her face. And she had a modest YouTube following for her tutorials. Nothing that would make her rich or famous, but enough to keep her interested in the hobby.
Despite using expensive, boutique makeup at home, Amelia had always stuck with the same ubiquitous drug store Maybelline mascara. Seeing it now halfway across the world was a pleasant reminder of home. She bought one of nearly everything, minus the perfume that smelled like a lilac bush died and gave its essence to fill the bottle. As she was at the counter to pay, she felt a tiny tap on her leg.
When she looked down, a little boy of about four stood staring up at her. “Can I touch your hair?” he asked in French.
“Of course you can,” Amelia said. She knelt on the floor and untied her hair from the hasty braid she’d made to keep it from blowing haphazardly around the car.
“I’ve never seen yellow hair before,” the boy said, smoothing his hand gently over her corn silk tresses. After a few minutes, he lost interest in her hair and his eyes rested on the candy display behind her.
“Would you like a sweet?” she asked. When he nodded, she handed it to him, making eye contact with the storeowner so she would add it to her tab. The boy took the candy but didn’t eat it right away. Instead he cradled it lovingly to his chest like an injured baby bird. He might have been older than four, she realized. His head was overly large, as if he had suffered malnourishment in his short lifetime. She made further conversation with him, asking about his home and family.
Ethan returned to the store a few minutes later and saw Amelia still on the floor, the boy beside her. She had her arm around him and they were laughing over something she’d said. He stopped short, almost stumbling back a step, staggered by her beauty and the unexpected impact it had on him. It wasn’t that she was pretty, although she was. She had a fresh sort of natural loveliness, a girl-next-door aura. What captivated him at the moment was the glimpse of her inner beauty, on full display as she spoke with the boy. She shimmered with it, radiating kindness and love from every pore.
She caught him looking at her and tilted her head in question, the smile still on her lips.
“Ready?” he said, then cleared his throat and repeated himself when it came out as a halfhearted croak.
She nodded and, standing, gave the boy a little hug goodbye. “Thanks for the store suggestion,” she said to Ethan. “I found what I was looking for.”
He nodded then rounded the corner with her, herding her into the alley, where he pressed her against the wall and kissed her with all the pent up, confused emotion he’d just been feeling.
“Ready?” he said when the kiss was finished. His forehead was touching hers, his eyes closed.
“For what, exactly?” she asked.
“Phase two,” he said, opening his eyes. “I secured us a better car. I think you’re going to like this one. Come on.” He took her hand and led her to their new car. It wasn’t quite a limo, but almost. The windows were tinted black and there was a long, spacious back seat. The wheels had been modified to handle the rough roads, looking more like they belonged on a tractor than a car.
“Sweet,” Amelia exclaimed. “This is awesome, it’s like going to prom except everyone outside the car seemingly wants to kidnap or kill me.”
“That didn’t happen at your prom? You must have gone to a posh school,” he said, opening the door for her.
“Who’s our driver?” she asked.
“About that,” Ethan began, but from the front seat Jones turned around and spoke to her.
“All right there, Melly? Find your knick-knacks and girly dos?”
“It’s Jones,” Amelia said.
“It turns out cars are easier to find than drivers,” Ethan explained.
“It’s only a frog hop. Just five hours, and we’ll be there,” Jones said.
“Five hours,” Amelia repeated. “I can’t hold my hands over my ears for five hours, Ethan.”
“Come on, Melly, this is the good part of the trip. Right roads, and all,” Jones said.
Ethan tapped him. “You don’t call her Melly; that’s what I call her.”
“Right, that’s what you call her. And that’s what I call her,” Jones said.
“But I call her that. I’m the only one who calls her that,” Ethan protested.
“You patent the name, gent?” Jones asked.
“I think you lost this one as soon as we opened the door and got inside the first time and he asked if he could sniff us,” Amelia said.
“But…” Ethan started, but she interrupted him.
“Ethan, the man keeps a stuffed kangaroo in his pocket, and I’m not sure he doesn’t know it’s not real. So I think it’s okay to let this one go.”
“As I told you before, we don’t have ready access to medical care here. It would be dead helpful to have someone who could sniff out infection and make a diagnosis, yeah?” Jones said, shamelessly eavesdropping on them again. “And I know the kangaroo’s not real. It’s in memory of a real kanga I used to know. He met a bloody end one day when…”
Amelia started to put her hands over her ears, but Ethan intercepted her. “Let me show you the car’s best feature.” He pressed a button and a glass divider went up between them and Jones. Better still, it was also tinted.
“Can he see us back here?” Amelia asked.
“No, I checked,” Ethan said.
All the windows were tinted; no one could see them.
Amelia eased closer and slipped her arms around him. “You know what I want to do right now?”
“I think I do,” he said. “You want to take a nap.”
She nodded, yawning.
He eased her into his lap and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m sorry. It’s just so cozy and warm, and I’m so sleepy,” she said, yawning again.
“It’s almost like you didn’t sleep well last night,” he said.
“Strangely, I feel like I hardly slept at all, like I ran a marathon for a few hours. Can’t imagine why,” she said.
“Jet lag finally catching up with you, probably,” he suggested.
“If that’s jet lag, I’ll become a record holding frequent flier,” she said, and he laughed.
The divider rolled down. “All right back there, mates? Sounded like a sea bird choking on a biscuit.”
“Ethan was laughing,” Amelia explained.
“I’d have that looked at if I were you. I knew a bloke who sounded like that, and it turned out his lung was…”
Ethan pressed Amelia’s head to his chest, covering her exposed ear with his hand. “Go to sleep, I’ll take one for the team and keep listening,” he whispered.
“You are literally the best,” she said. She closed her eyes and, a few minutes later, she was asleep.