CHAPTER 13 - THE TAYLORS
Brian lived in a small hut on the outskirts of town. It had a woven grass roof and walls made of logs. Definately old-fashioned.
It took us almost an hour to get there, and by the time we got inside, we could smell the aroma of cooking food. And it actually smelled good! A first for the South African food I'd come in contact with, that's for sure.
"Dinda," Brian said as he set his backpack down on a small chair by the door. "Dinda, I'm home."
A small woman - about 5' 2'' - came in. She wore an ankel-length brown skirt with a loose green shirt. Her hair was long and black. It looked kind of like mine did when I braided it, except it was much darker. Her skin was dark too. A native, I guessed. She had a big smile on her face.
"We have visitors?" she asked with the distinct accent of the locals. It was obvious that English was not her native tounge.
Brian nodded. "This pretty little thing's Payon."
I know I blushed a little, but who wouldn't? I mean - pretty little thing? "Hi," I said.
"I am Dinda," she said, bowing her head.
I did the same.
"And this tough guy," Brian said, nudging Zane's arm, which did not make Zane happy, "is Zane." He said, smiling at his wife.
Her eyes grew wide. "Zane? But this can not be. The boy you described was much to young, and not near enough handsome."
Zane didn't smile. He didn't even acknowlege Dinda's presence. He only glared at his Father.
I felt bad for him, but I also felt envy. What had his Father done that was so bad? I would give almost anything just to see my Dad, and here he was staying in his Father's house. I would concider such a thing to be a great reward, not a curse. But still, they had a past. Something had happened between them, and Zane wasn't willing to forgive.
Looking at them both stand there, side by side, it was obvious that Zane looked a lot like his Father. Same black hair. Same blue eyes. Same accents. They were both really tall, and both muscular. Brian's smile was just like his son's.
Actually, that's what stood out the most. His smile. I could tell he was happy to see his son. No matter what Zane said or did, Brian was glad that he was in his house. Glad that he got the chance to see him and introduce him to Dinda.
"Would you care for tea?"
I glanced up at Dinda who was smiling at me. "Oh, sure. Yeah, that'd be great."
I was so thirsty, and tea sounded really good. Unlike most adults, my Mom didn't drink coffee; she drank tea. I drank coffee, but I also drank tea with her somethimes. We'd have little tea partys, usually with Barb and her thirty-one cats.
I followed Dinda into the kitchen, leaving Zane alone with Brian. I glanced back as I went through the kitchen door - curtain actually - and saw Zane stiffen. He gave me a look that only meant one thing: I don't want to be here.
"So," Dinda said once we were in the kitchen. She put a pot on the fire. "You are from America?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
I could hear Brian talking in the other room, but I couldn't hear Zane's voice at all. I doubted that he wanted to talk to his Father at all. In fact, he probably didn't want to see him at all.
"And, you're from here?" I asked, trying hard not to listen as Brian pleaded with his son to talk to him.
"Yes," Dinda told me. "I have been in Owando my whole life."
I nodded. "So - uh - how'd you meet Brian?"
Dinda poured two cups of tea.
"I met him when he came here about seven years ago. He came with a group of Americans. They were helping to give water to me and my friends. They gave clothes to the orphan children. They gave us all food. That is how I met him.
"When I met him, I could not take my eyes off him. He is very good looking, you know. He stayed for almost three weeks. And we fell in love. When his group went back to America, he stayed behind. For me."
Okay, that was probably the sweetest thing I'd ever heard. How could Zane possibly be mad at a guy like that? He came over to help others and ended up falling in love. It was sweet.
I sipped my tea. It was absolutely delicious. It tasted liky me Mom's. Exactly like my Mom's. I'll admit: that was the first time I'd felt homesick since leaving almost two days before.
Dinda set her cup down. "I wonder, why are you and Zane here?" she asked.
"Uh," I really didn't know how to explain it. "We're - uh - visiting friends. Just passing through."
"Oh, I see. Do your friends live near here?"
"Yes - well, kind of - they, uh - I'm not sure. Zane's the navigator," I told her, unsure what to say.
Dinda smiled. "What are their names?"
"Carter Cambridge and Mason Bryce."
The smile faded. "I do not think I know them. They must not live around here."
"No," I said, sipping my tea, "they must not."
Dinda sipped her tea and looked out the small window, which was actually just a hole in the wood. "It is a beautiful day. Will you and Zane be joining us for dinner?"
I smiled. "Oh, yeah. I mean, if Zane wants to."
Now Dinda smiled. "That is wonderful. We'll be having an African dish. You've probably never -"
"I DON'T CARE!"
Dinda and I turned just as Zane walked into the kitchen, really, really mad. Brian followed him.
"Zane, I know -"
"No," Zane said, turning and looking at his Father, disappointment and anger in his eyes. "No, you don't know. You don't know how much Mom cried after you left. Or how much Arabella cried. You left us, and you never came back. No call, no money, and no thoughts about how Arabella and I would survive once..." Zane's voice faltered. "You left her when she was dying!"
Brian straightened up. "I didn't have a choice."
"Yes," he yelled. "You did. You knew and you left us. I was nine years old. Nine! And I had to take care of her. And Arabella. And you just left."
Brian's eyes were sad. "I never meant to hurt you. Or Arabella. Or you Mom. I loved all of you."
Zane shoved his Father into the wall, which shook. "Don't even pretend to say that. You never - never looked back, did you? You just..."
Both men stood there, Brian's eyes tearing up, and Zane's filled with anger.
"You didn't love her," Zane filnally said. "You didn't love us."
He walked over, grabbed my hand, and lead me back out to the front door. He grabbed our bags and walked out. I had no choice but to follow.
"Zane," I siad quietly. "Are you alright?"
Zane straightened up. He brushed a tear from his cheek. "Yeah. Come on, we need to get moving. Carter and Mason need us."
"Zane, if you -"
"I'm fine," he snapped, but recoiled immediately. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I told him. "Maybe we should start in town. Ask around. See if anybody knows anything."
Zane glanced in the direction of the town. "Yeah, that's a good idea. Come on."
I followed Zane as we walked down the long, dirt road. We had to get some answers. We just had to...
