Full Circle (25 page)
Kayla said, “I have to go back to Dar es Salaam.”
“Fine. That is established. You shall go. And soon.”
Kayla blinked. She knew there was more. She
craved
it.
“But there is also a new choice which you must make. And here, I feel, is where your vision remains cloudy.” The old professor steepled her fingers around the head of her cane. “You think the question is, do you love this man or not. Do you trust him? Do you give yourself to him? Do you bind your futures together?”
Kayla shaped the words with her mouth. But there was not enough air in the room to give them sound.
“I'm sorry, but this is not correct. You miss the core issue. The
real
choice is this.” Dr. Beachley took a firmer grip on the cane and leaned in so close Kayla caught the rosewater scent of her powder. “The critical issue, my dear young lady, is whether you wish to renew
all
your passions. Do you choose to regain your zest for life? Do you desire to have the dross of bitter experiences turned to the gold of new beginnings? Do you seek the freedom to love anew?”
Kayla whispered, “How?”
Dr. Beachley leaned back, clearly satisfied. “An excellent starting point for your new assignment, wouldn't you agree?”
F
ollowing the Bodleian luncheon, Adam dropped Peter off at the company and silently accepted the chairman's hoarse thanks. Adam remained deep within the adrenaline rush of a successful role. He drove back to the village where Honor greeted him with a hug, led him into Peter's office, delivered a tray of sandwiches and tea, and shut the door as she departed.
Adam pushed wearily through Derek Steen's downloaded files. By dinnertime he was certain they contained no direct reference to MVP's attack on Peter's company. Even so, the term
Serengeti
was everywhere, referred to in terse bullets that included such words as
crush, brutalize, bury
. Adam checked corporate listings in Europe and the United States, but could come up with nothing that used the Tanzanian name. The search kept him up until well after midnight. He would have stayed at it longer, but exhaustion swept him away. Adam barely made it up the stairs and into the guestroom bed.
He came grudgingly awake at a knock on his door. Honor stood in the alcove doorway, a steaming mug in her hand. “I let you sleep as long as I could.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost ten.” She entered the room and set the mug down on the side table. “Peter was hoping to speak with you before he meets with the executive committee this afternoon. And Professor Beachley phoned. She asked if you would stop by this morning. She made it sound quite urgent.” Honor took a slip of paper from her pocket. “And Kayla asked me to give you this.”
She handed him the note, then retreated to the doorway. “Adam, I hope you someday understand what your assistance has meant to Peter.”
“He's a good man.”
“Yes. He is that.” Honor smiled. “Well, I'd best let you get dressed. Your breakfast is waiting.”
Adam waited until the door closed behind her to unfold the slip of paper. Kayla's note read,
I went to church this morning. I prayed. For me. For you. For us. Love, K.
The church door squeaked loudly as he let himself in. The sound echoed through the empty chamber. On the altar table, a single candle gleamed inside a lead crystal vase. Adam walked to the front pew and seated himself. In front of him was a waist-high frieze of intricately carved wood. Beyond it, a pair of stone steps rose to the altar and the table with its linen tablecloth. The cloth was embroidered with a crown of thorns surrounding a gold chalice.
He had spent a lifetime running from this place. It all came down to that. He had a million reasons to walk away. He caught a fragrance of incense as he slipped off the pew and came to rest upon the cold stone floor. He shut his eyes with the certainty he could not find his way alone.
That morning Kayla drove her father to the office. He had apparently rested well, for his voice was stronger and his features not so stained with exhaustion. Kayla allowed her father to escort her through his outer office as he would an honored guest. Mrs. Drummond served them coffee in the gold-rimmed china instead of the normal mugs. When they were alone, Peter said, “Honor told me of your desire to return the money. I won't hear of it. I don't wish to argue with you. So I'm asking that you set this notion aside.”
She had a dozen reasons all lined up, ready to fire. But she did not have the heart to add to his strain. “All right, Daddy.”
“Are we done with that?”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Have you heard anything about yesterday's meeting?”
“Their response should be coming through later today.” Peter coughed. “Adam was magnificent.”
“So you told us last night. I wish I could have seen him.”
“If we succeed in holding on to these investors, it will all be due to him.”
“No, Daddy, I'm sorry. But that's not correct. He followed your lead.”
His smile lacked the shadow she had been seeing since her return. “You're sure about that, are you?”
“Absolutely.”
He hesitated, then asked, “You're still determined to return to Africa as planned?”
“I must.” Suddenly the air carried a razorlike edge. “My ticket is booked. Tomorrow is your birthday. I leave the next morning.”
She was terrified at what he might say. The slightest comment, the softest argument, and she knew her control would shatter. All the tears she had held back would come pouring out. And for a reason she would never have expected to find in this brief journey home.
But when Peter spoke, it was to say, “These past few days I have witnessed miracles with my own two eyes. Astounding events, joyful moments. The impossible made real. A young man who has been fired from my firm does everything within his power to keep this same company alive. My daughter joins me in our beloved church for the first time since her mother's funeral. And suddenly I find myself daring to voice a word I thought was lost to me.”
Kayla waited until she was back in her little alcove before she whispered the word for herself. But saying it softly was not enough. She took out a clean sheet of paper. She wrote down the word. She pinned it to the bulletin board. She sat there for quite some time, studying the word as she would a timeless mystery.
Hope.
A
dam drove to Oxford and spent an hour with Professor Beachley. The previous day, the professor had met with the former student. She was now more adamant than ever that Adam was the answer to this young woman's crisis. Their discussion left Adam scarcely able to see the street back out to the corporate headquarters. His preoccupation carried him into the offices from which he had just been fired. A very curious receptionist told him to go straight to the chairman's office. Adam walked the long hall that carried him past the library and conference rooms and felt scrutiny from every quarter.
Mrs. Drummond was her normal unflappable self. “Mr. Austin will be with you directly.” The chairman's secretary indicated Kayla's space. “Miss Austin asked me to give you her best, sir. She's off doing Christmas errands and said you might like to share her desk.”
Adam glanced at the spot where he had first seen Kayla. “All right.”
“If you'll excuse me for saying, sir, this is the first time Miss Austin has ever invited anyone into her alcove. You'd be well advised to find a proper means of saying thanks.” Mrs. Drummond returned to her work. “Flowers might make for a nice start.”
Adam seated himself and pulled out his two sets of notes, one from the previous evening's work and the others from his astonishing conversation with Dr. Beachley. Kayla's fragrance still lingered, a heady mixture of spices and distant lands. The desk was delicate and feminine, the edges carved into gentle waves. Adam then noticed the paper pinned to the board above the desk and it's single handwritten word,
Hope
. He sensed Kayla only left it because it was meant for them both.
“Mr. Wright? Mr. Austin will see you now.”
Joshua Dobbins was seriously displeased to see Adam enter the chairman's office. “Really, Peter, this is most unwise.”
“Your objections are duly noted.” Peter waved Adam into a seat and declared hoarsely, “The colleges have elected to give us another six months to demonstrate a viable plan for recouping the lost earnings.”
Adam felt a definable lightening of his body. As though he could suddenly cast aside the mental stones that had weighed down his hours. “That's an eternity.”
“Not quite. But close enough from where I sit.”
Joshua Dobbins protested, “This man has been dismissed.”
“And I have hired him on my personal payroll. To work on a specific project.”
“The board backed my decision!”
Peter Austin coughed, took a raspy breath, and said, “Old friend, we are poised on a knife's edge. I ask you to trust me. As you have so often in the past.”
When Joshua subsided, Peter went on, “ MVP has requested a meeting to discuss the acquisition of our firm.”
“They must have heard about the colleges' decision to grant us more time,” Adam said.
Joshua fumed, “Grant
us
?”
Peter glanced at his number two, then said, “I feel we should take the meeting. It may well buy us some breathing room.”
Adam agreed, “They'll hold off trying to destroy you as long as they think there's a chance of buying the firm.” He had a sud-den thought. “Why not insist they ease the pressure being put on the Italian company that's brought you to the brink?”
Joshua said, “They'll deny all knowledge.”
“It doesn't matter what they
say
. You heard Peter. We're after breathing room.” Adam turned to the chairman. “Send Joshua. Put some space between you and the negotiations.”
Peter cut off Joshua's protest before it could fully form. “Old friend, I have relied on you so often. It seems we are in need of your well-honed skills once again. Do not, I beg you, let us down.”