A Seal Upon Your Heart (55 page)

~***~

When the plane finally landed at the Greater Cincinnati Airport, Martier felt as if she had come from hell and back. She was tired, sore and she was convinced that her hair was a mess all over her head. She wanted a bath and a hot meal. More importantly she wanted to see Tim.

Nervous tension built in her belly as she stepped off the plane. And as she entered the terminal she didn’t have to look around. She saw a tall shaggy white man pacing, holding a cup of coffee and looking about as disheveled as she felt.

She smiled. He was beautiful. She quickly moved past the few people milling around and she saw the smile brighten his face as his eye caught sight of her. She began running and he opened his arms and scooped her up. The security of his embrace revived her until her body was singing with unspent energy. She clung to him, her face buried in his neck as he held her elevated from the floor. She smelled his soap and shampoo and the maleness that was all Tim.

Every bit of tension moved from her body. Maybe it would return when they sat down and eventually talked but for now she was at home in his arms.

Tim had nearly forgotten how beautiful this woman was. Was it possible that she had become even more beautiful than before? She was different; that was a fact. Her deep brown skin tone was darker as if she had bathed in the sunlight while her warm brown eyes held a sense of knowledge and loss innocence. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. Her long hair was a halo of wild curls that flowed around her head and although she was still slender—maybe even too slender, she stood with a sureness that she hadn’t possessed before.

Martier had grown; he was proud and sad all at once. He closed his eyes and just relished the feel of her in his arms. He didn’t think he’d ever have an opportunity to feel her like this again and all he could do was to hold her close so that he could convince himself that it was real.

They were grinning like insane people when they finally moved a part to look at the other.

“I missed you.” She said quietly.

“Me too. I…” Tim cleared his throat and then looked down at her carry on bag. He took it from her. “We should get your bags.”

She spotted the cup of coffee in his hands.

“Oh may I please have that?”

“Well its nearly gone and it’s probably cold.”

“Oh I don’t care.” She took the coffee and drank down the remainder of it, eyes closing in pleasure. “No one drinks coffee in Rwanda.” She exclaimed. “Even though they grow it they prefer tea!”

He chuckled. “Come on, there’s a coffee shop in this terminal and I think they have some of that lemon loaf cake that you like so much.”

She gave him a quick look. “I thought you liked lemon loaf cake.”

He shrugged. “I prefer donuts.” She laughed. “What?” he asked.

“Oh never mind-”

“No, please tell me. I want to know.”

“When I first started working for you I went down to the canteen to get you donuts from the vending machine and Claudette told me that…well that your wife always got you lemon loaf so I thought I’d get that for you, as well.”

He gave her a curious smile. “You did that for me?”

“Of course.”

“Honey, I don’t like lemon loaf all that much. I’d prefer a packet of powdered sugar donuts from the vending machine. Or even a bear claw. But Corrine said that I got powdered sugar all over my suit—which I did. And she thought bear claws were hideous so I basically got what she liked or I got nothing.” He chuckled. Martier looked stricken. All this time she had done things that Corinne had done because she thought the other woman did it better—but that wasn’t necessarily true.

She finally smiled. “Well let’s get that coffee. Oh yeah and my suitcase. My coat is in it and I see that there is snow outside.”

“Yes. We just got another two inches dumped on us.”

Martier glanced out the large picture windows at snow flurries that fell like confetti. This was Cincinnati. This was home. “It was very hot in Rwanda. I think I will relish the snow,” she said quietly.

“I’m glad that one of us will.” They walked arm and arm to baggage.

Later, after Martier had finished off an extra large coffee and they had split a package of powdered sugar donuts Tim’s expression grew serious.

“Martier, I put the house up for sale.”

“What?” She gave him a surprised look.

“Yes, its okay for you to stay at the cottage until it sales but I don’t live in the house anymore. All of your things are still there. I just covered the furniture with dust covers because…well I didn’t know if—uh when you’d be back.”

Martier was surprised at the flash of pain that Tim’s words had brought. He was selling that beautiful house and her cottage. There were so many memories wrapped up in that house—but she supposed that was the reason he was selling it. However the cottage represented everything that was important in her life; her independence, her womanhood, her love for Tim. Eventually she nodded.

“Are you okay with selling the house?” She asked, trying to keep in mind that his experiences with the house were quite different than hers.

“Yes. I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want those memories.”

They were quiet for a while. “I appreciate you letting me stay there.”

“That’s your home until it sales.” But what about after?

As they drove to Tim’s old house Martier glanced at him. How did she broach the subject of their relationship? It had to be her to do it since it was her that had changed the rules.

“Where do you live, Tim?”

“Lytle Tower.”

“The big complex by the river?”

“Yes.”

“I heard that was very nice.”

“It suits my needs.” Basically it was a place to sleep and to work when he wasn’t in the office.

She watched the scenery pass as the sun began to rise over the Cincinnati skyline. Soon they were driving up the familiar drive to her cottage. Tim got out and opened her door and then led them into the darkened house. Together they began removing the dust covers from the furniture and then she turned on the kitchen light. A mouse scurried across her floor and she barely noticed it as she opened the refrigerator to check its contents. Eeek. It was scarier than the mouse.

Tim gave her a sheepish smile. “I think I forgot about that.”

He turned up the heat and then made sure that all of the lights worked. He checked the locks on the doors and windows as she trailed behind him. He turned once and she was right behind him and he nearly bumped into her. She didn’t move back but he cut around her barely touching her.

“Tim…”

“Yes?”

“Uh. I’m sorry about the way that I left. I truly wasn’t myself.”

“Martier I understand that.”

“I would have left, I’m not saying that…but I didn’t have to leave the way that I did.”

“Yes you did, sweetheart. You had to save yourself.”

She frowned at his choice of words. “I…” Why was this so hard?? “I still love you very much. I think that I appreciate the man that you are even more than I ever had before, since being in Kigali and being a witness to so much hate. Do you think that you and I can continue where we left off?”

He didn’t speak but after a moment he kissed her forehead. “You should get some rest. This is too big to talk about like this. I’ll call you this evening, okay?”

He moved to the door and she grabbed his hand. To hell with caution! “Will you stay with me tonight? I mean, we don’t have to do anything. I just…I just want to fall asleep in your arms.”

He very nearly agreed. Almost… “No. I can’t do that.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I love you too. Too much to do that.” He left with her puzzling over his words.

~***~

Martier slept deeply despite not having Tim’s arms to snuggle into. She slept through the ringing of her telephone; missing calls from Dhakiya, and Sister Louise. Her bed was a safety zone that allowed her a healing sleep. When she awoke it was nearly four pm. She ran a hot bath and soaked while listening to the radio; top 40 songs from The Dave Matthews Band and Maxwell.

She dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and checked her messages and saw the recent ones from Dhakiya and Sister Louise. She called Dhakiya first inhaling a deep breath.

“Martier?”

“Hi Dhakiya.”

“Oh Martier! I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that! I had no right-”

“Dhakiya, I’m so far away from that. I don’t care about that anymore. I missed you and I’m the one that’s sorry. All of this time you were preserving my culture for me. All of this time you were my mentor. And what did I do but take without giving.”

“Martier, what are you talking about? Without your friendship I would have died at Bartholoma! Because of you I remembered home.”

“I never shared my memories with you—you of all people, I kept that from you.”

“Not out of selfishness—but because it was so big that it could have consumed you. You had to deal with it all at once—I adjusted to it after many years. And even now…” She got quiet. “Did you find answers in Rwanda?”

“Yes. So much to tell you but first I have to tie up loose ends.”

If Dhakiya was curious about what that meant she didn’t ask. “Will you call me later, sis?”

“Yes but it may be a few days. But don’t think I forgot about you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“
Turongera
.”

“
Turongera
, little sister. I love you.”

“I love you too, sis.”

She sat there quietly for a moment before calling Sister Louise.

“Lindewe said that you had returned. Are you okay, child?”

“Yes I am. I’d like to come and see you tomorrow if I can?”

“Of course you can.”

“I wanted to tell you about Rwanda, but I also think I have a plan for my future, Sister.”

“That’s good, Martier. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” They set up a time and then Martier contemplated calling Tim. But decided to wait. She didn’t want to disturb him at the office again. She made coffee and was in the middle of cleaning out the refrigerator when she heard her doorbell ring.

She quickly turned down the radio and then checked to see who was there. It was Tim and she opened the door with a smile.

“Hi,” He was carrying a brown paper sack and she had no idea what was inside but the contents smelled delicious. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m starving. What is that?”

“Carryout from Shanghai Mama’s; sesame wings and spicy noodles and of course that salad you like with the ginger dressing.”

She beamed and carried everything into the kitchen where she set it out for them to enjoy.”

“How was work?” She asked after she had made a dent in her hunger pangs.

“I didn’t go to work.”

“You didn’t?”

“I took a day.” He had spent it thinking about Martier and the question that she had asked; whether or not they could go back to the way they were. He thought that he had an answer to that after all of these hours.