Dearest Memories

CHAPTER 1

So Jason is coming to Africa, she whispered dropping the letter in her lap to stare out over the vast savanna stretching endlessly before her. For a moment, she hoped it would be a different Jason, but dropped that idea at once. No. It’s him all right, she mumbled, Penny wouldn’t have written if it weren’t him and there’s no point denying it!

As she sat mouthing the fears of her soul, her thoughts slipped back to her first adolescent crush — the boy next door who had matured into her unrequited love — and the name that ceaselessly smoldered in the hidden corners of her psyche amidst a flurry of, what ifs. Jason Conner was coming to Africa! And the vast plain stretching before her seemed more a trap than a refuge as all her reasons for leaving the fashions of civilization welled within her in a fear that paralyzed her thinking.

No guest at Jennifer’s Lodge would note a change in her demeanor that day as she reclined in her lounge chair at the end of the veranda. And while no wall or step isolated her from her guests and she was always friendly to a fault, still, none would think of breaking into her reverie for there was an indefinable something about her that distanced her from mere mortals as from the furthest star. The veranda chair was her afternoon haunt and the reason many vacationed at her lodge — to savor the legendarily beautiful Jennifer profiled against the cloudless African sky.

While tall and commanding on her feet, laying back in her old wooden chair with one leg carelessly draped over the other, she blended perfectly into the exotic landscape as a sensuous ripple. Her habitual wear was a safari suit whose cut revealed nothing to the eye but all to the imagination — a suit whose khaki seem but an extension of her long tanned arms and legs — whose hair bleached by the sun to a pallet of tans and gold moved in silent sympathy with the gentle breezes of the plain. Only her water-blue eyes set her apart from the natural colors of the African landscape as she sat quietly sipping a drink, for her placid expression gave no hint that her mind was akimbo in thoughts of long ago and far away.

Her flawless lips did not tremble at some indiscernible fear. Her chiseled features did not quiver. Neither did her exquisite profile give any hint that she was pondering a man perfect in every detail but one — after leaving for college — he had forgotten her to marry someone else. Yes, she had shunted the memory of Jason to the furthest corners of her mind, but there he had lurked like a chained Prometheus ever threatening to break his bonds to once again spread fire in her breast; and at the thought of his name, he had.

Will there be anything else Miss Jennifer? asked the small man silently approaching her haunt.

No, thank you Johnson, she said in a voice as velvety as the endless grass before her. She turned to her major domo with a poise that drove the males of her congregation to lust, to find him peering at the letter on her lap. The letter he had picked up that morning on one of his infrequent trips to town. The letter from an old friend who had mentioned, almost as an aside, that their mutual acquaintance would be visiting the dark continent, although it didn’t mention when.

As Johnson left, Jennifer looked at the envelope’s cancellation. It’s taken a long time to get here from America, she thought looking up vacantly, Where is he now? Oh, Jason! her heart screamed passed her silent lips, Where are you now!?

She had kept track of him through friends’ letters while making sure he had learned as little of her as possible. Even her whereabouts. Especially of her whereabouts. That’s what bothered her. How had he found her? Had he been clocking her too? Was he still holding a torch? Or was it a mere coincidence?

She finished her drink and the empty glass barely made it to the table before it was refilled by the silent Johnson. She looked back at the letter. Penny didn’t say he was coming here, she thought, she only said that he’s coming to Africa! She shifted position in her chair and picked up the glass in one motion. And Africa’s a big place — a continent — and unless he knows where I am and seeks me out, there’s no chance I’ll run into him.

Far in the distance, Peter, the lame okapi she had nursed to health in his youth was gamboling with a female of his breed and Jennifer smiled as she thought of nature’s power over its creations. Yes, she thought, the power of nature! But the miles separating her from civilization seemed less safe without the added width of an ocean. If he’s coming here, she whispered softly, it’ll be to see me! And what am I going to do about it? How many years has it been since I’ve seen him? she wondered as her mind flitted back in time to a day long before. He was leaving his folks place for college and I was watching through the blinds so he wouldn’t see me. She smiled thinking of that day and the intervening years and she let her eyes drop to wander down her lithe figure in self evaluation. Surprisingly little wear considering the time I’ve spend in the sun, she thought, I wondered if he’s held up as well? But her brain would not focus. Each what if was interrupted by thoughts of his wife.

Is he still married? she questioned silently, Divorced? Separated? A widower? Has she run off with the cook? Does he have any children? She lusted after a dream that might no longer exist. And the physical man? If he showed up, he would have to prove himself anew. How does one go about romancing a dream? she wondered. How do you rekindle a fire burnt to ashes? she pondered as she slowly sipped her drink.

Getting things her way is a Jennifer specialty, and making a success of it. Even when she had used an inheritance to buy a vacation lodge at the ends of the earth, no friend doubted that she would make a go of it. She would risk big because it was in her nature to think big. Even her dreams were big, but her dreams were off limits to gambling. No, she would not risk her dreams. But suppose the Jason of old no longer existed? Suppose he had changed completely? For to put her chips on the line in that case would be a no-win situation. I can only judge him by meeting him, she said slowly, and that I will not do until I’m sure he’s free.

Slowly standing and looking one last time across the great rolling plain, she saw Peter in the distance nuzzling a mare. Perhaps it’s an omen, she thought as she walked across the veranda nodding recognition to guests on her way to the lodge where she headed for her study.

As many bush homes converted into tourists’ lodges, Jennifer’s had been expanded from time to time over the years to accommodate the additional visitors each new method of travel had made possible until, by the time she bought it and changed its name, its vast airy interior gave no hint of its primitive origins.

She strode her lodge’s grand foyer which funneled into a wide, two-story high corridor fitted with clerestory windows to allow the twice daily breezes from the plain to waft through the building while maintaining privacy between the opulent interior and rude out of doors. Reaching her study, she stood in its doorway to look around as though for the first time. This has been my home for a long time, she muttered as she surveyed the familiar objects that made it hers alone, my refuge. There are no ghosts here. She scanned the large room finished in wood tones giving it the warm feel of lived-in elegance. Viewing the huge windows framed by book cases to create a recessed window seat between them, she muttered, How many times have I curled up there staring out over the plain thinking of him? Will I let him come here? Will I let he sit in these chairs? Will he sit in that window seat looking out that window only to leave again making his stay a defilement of my sacred place? Will we leave together? Or will we never meet?

Slowly entering, she went to her desk. If his spirit is anywhere, she whispered about him were all written here — the replies telling me of him are all stored here — why have I kept track of him if not to meet him?" she asked seating herself at the desk and reaching for a pad.

The, Dear Penny, was easy. Fitting a comment into the note without seeming overly interested in Jason, was not. How had Penny come to learn of his trip? Jennifer didn’t know and her words rambled on for pages before she found the courage to make her move.

"By the way, you mentioned Jason’s coming to Africa. I haven’t thought about him in ages! What’s he doing? Where exactly in Africa is he going to be? You know, before I meet him — if I ever meet him — I’d like to know more about him. Why don’t you fill me in on the details?"

Jennifer had known Penny Kuehl since high school where they had formed one of those relationships that allow people to separate for long stretches only to pickup when they meet as though they had never parted. Years had passed since they’d talked face to face and, with the limited information moving through the mail on paper, Jennifer wondered exactly how much Penny knew about the love of her fantasies. And, knowing the limitations of the written word, she wondered if her short note would bring the answers she wanted. Going back and rereading her last paragraph, she added:

"You know how much Jason meant to me in school and, when you mentioned his name, it got all sorts of old memories cranked up. I’d really appreciate anything you can tell me about him."

She reread the line, then added:

"Africa’s a big place and I do have to decide whether I’ll be able to meet him if the opportunity arises."

First loves can become obsessions to be fought for a lifetime and Jason was hers. Looking up at nothing in particular, her mind whirled: Are my dreams and the man the same thing? Or are we two people sharing distorted memories of a time that never really existed for either of us? Her memories were painfully real — but the reality itself? I guess the question is: Would I rather have my dreams intact, or chance meeting him with the possibility of their being shattered? she concluded.

Without conscious reason, she walked the few steps to the half bath off her study and closed the door to view herself in the full-length mirror attached to the door’s interior side. Vanity oh vanity! she said, a smile creeping across her lips. She moved through several poses assessing the image presenting itself to her. And although she never used makeup and her hair was never better coiffed than a simple comb could make it, still, the image before her exuded the essence of femininity.

The tawny lioness with gunfighter blue eyes! she purred as she snuck peeks of herself licking the back of her hand in imitation of a gesture she had seen the great cats perform many times. Her eyes examined every inch of her angular face with its sharply defined nose and chin; they examined the perfect tan covering a body that exuded a poise and dignity beyond her years. Yeah, she said aloud watching herself slip from one pose into another, this is hot stuff! And with that, her whole body slipped limply into a kittenish pose her guests would never see. Jennifer the temptress! she hissed watching herself in her new guise, my secret weapon!

She was still smiling contentedly when she returned to her letter:

"OK Penny, let’s cut the crap. I’m rich, beautiful, happy, living with my dreams and I don’t want some clown stomping on my daffodils. I’m counting on you to be TOTALLY HONEST with me. Is Jason still married? YES or NO?! And is he the same Jason we all knew and loved in high school or has he wimped out? I love Jason — or perhaps more accurately the memory of Jason — and I have no intention of meeting him unless he’s still the man I remember and it has the possibility of going somewhere!"

There! she said not realizing she had mated the essence of her personality with paper, I’ll put my dreams on the table! But only if he puts up everything he’s got! Then and only then will I let him stay in the game!

The glorious vistas of the wild brought little joy during the seeming eternity she waited for a reply. No longer would the veranda’s view overwhelm her with its ever-changing animal adventures. Oh, the vista was the same, but her mind was occupied. She thought of her first kiss — and the possibility of its being repeated here. God that was fun! she said purred aloud, and not all that long ago when you think about it!

Her mind swam back to her high school days — a band bus trip — a time when a shy girl wound up sitting next to the class’ heartthrob in the back of the bus. We all had a crush on him, she remembered as she contemplated the luck that had thrown them together — of how their conversation had became increasingly less audible to the others nearby who