Love In The Jungle: 2

  Love In The Jungle II

  by

  Ann Walker

  Copyright © 2015 by Ann Walker

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Love In The Jungle II

  All rights reserved.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

  This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Ann Walker, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Ann Walker prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter One

  Good grief was it ever hot.

  I paused mid-stride, panting, and let my backpack roll off one shoulder, then the next, and it landed on the dusty ground with a resounding thud. My lips were dry, my face was caked in sweat, and I wasn’t even going to begin to describe the rest of my body—needless to say, I was a hot mess.

  Thankfully, I was currently on the outskirts of the little village in northern Togo, far from prying eyes of the locals and my fellow volunteers alike. Henri had mentioned getting some rain before the real summer heat kicked in, and as I gazed up at the totally cloudless sky, its beautiful light blue both appreciated and loathed, I decided in that moment I’d give anything for just one brief storm. It didn’t need to last long. There was no need for high winds and booming thunder—just five minutes of cool, fresh rain, and then it could go away.

  But then again, I couldn’t complain: I probably should have realized that starting my volunteer stint at the helm of summer in the African continent meant I was due for some heat—months of heat.

  I’d been told repeatedly by just about everyone that I’d get used to the high temperatures. Soon, they all informed me, in broken English, I’d be able to walk out of my little round hut in the mornings and not break a real sweat until noon. Soon, I’d be unfazed by the blazing sun and the humidity, and when fall came, I’d be scrambling for a sweater like the rest of them.

  Right. Great. None of that helped me now, unfortunately. For now, I was stuck wallowing in discomfort with the vague hope that things would get better.

  Rather than guzzling down the entire water bottle I’d been hauling around, I poured some of the warmish liquid in my cupped hand, then splashed it on the back of my neck. What I wouldn’t do for a cold shower, and I’d only been volunteering two days.

  And it wasn’t necessarily Togo’s spring heat that made me crave a cold shower. No, it was my volunteer crew—specifically the person I’d had a fantastic night with before I arrived. Much to my surprise, there hadn’t been much awkward tension between us, despite everything that had happened. Grant proved time and time again to be a decent, friendly man who was here to work, but the way he looked at me sometimes…

  A cold shower was a must. Thus far, the shower I’d had was about as cool as the water in my bottle: tepid, lukewarm, and unsatisfying.

  I sighed, taking a quick sip of my drink. Despite my discomfort with the heat, I was forever in love with the landscape around me. After I’d finished helping with a load of laundry and food prep in the morning, I had the afternoon to myself. The other volunteers had fallen into a card game easily enough, but I wasn’t as adjusted to everything as they were. I still wanted to explore, to sink my teeth into the countryside.

  Besides, I still had another two days before I started teaching. My nerves were at an all-time high whenever I thought about it, and I almost wished I could have started off with the kids. I had a bunch of textbooks sitting in my little hut to go through before the first lesson, and while I suspected time was a luxury to help me prep, all I wanted was to rip the Band-Aid off and dive right in.

  So, rather than stress over lesson plans, I had opted to go for a hike. There was nothing to think about out here—nothing to divert my attention back to the many stressors at the village. Grant. Teaching. Henri had left this morning too, which meant I was well and truly on my own.

  If anyone said they were totally adjusted and happy their first few days, they were a liar. All those videos from former volunteers about how amazing this experience had been probably ignored the panic of day One to Five.

  I turned my attention to my surroundings as my stress levels started to rise again, taking in the mammoth trees, probably hundreds of years old. A cluster of dark birds shot out from the leaves of one, shrieking as they raced across the light blue sky. Baobab trees—that’s what they were called. Henri had been obsessed with the landscape to the same degree I was, but the one key difference was that he actually knew what everything was called. The only name I could remember was baobab, and they were pretty rare for the area.

  Maybe there’d be a book somewhere with all the names.

  Or, alternatively, I could just ask a local. They were probably more knowledgeable about their home than any textbook would ever be.

  Bugs screamed in the heat, and as beautiful as the landscape was, nothing could detract from the humidity. My hut had a little battery-operated fan in it, and the thought of plopping down in front of it before heading for a shower was suddenly immensely appealing.

  Besides, I’d walked far enough that the village buildings were worryingly small. I’d seen monkeys and birds so far, but anything more dangerous seemed to have kept out of sight. I swallowed thickly, turning in a complete circle to take in my surroundings. They could have been napping, I suppose. Big cats were probably no different than house cats, and my childhood cat had slept most afternoons away.

  Hmm. A chill ran down my spine, and even in the heat, it wasn’t a comforting feeling. Shoving my water bottle in my bag, I quickly zipped everything up and threw my backpack on. Then, before I headed back, I yanked my hair out of its current droopy ponytail and tied it up on a bun on top of my head. Sure, I risked getting sunburn on my neck, but my skin needed an all-access pass to the breeze.

  I certainly wasn’t subtle on my march back to my new home, always making sure I could at least see the volunteer huts on the outskirts of the village. Tromping through the grasses, stomping over dirt hills, yelping whenever something rustled nearby—I’d be easy prey, honestly. Why hadn’t I considered big predators before? I picked up the pace. This was why all the hunters, from what I’d seen, went out in pairs.

  Suddenly, a clump of thigh-high grasses shook, and I leapt back as something brown and fuzzy charged me. Shrieking and nearly tripping over my own feet, I scrambled back as fast as I could, and then hopped up on a sizeable boulder for a height advantage. We both stopped once I was off the ground, my throat dry and chest heaving.

  It was just a warthog. I almost laughed.

  Smaller than I’d imagined, it marched up to me with its petite tusks and crooked tail, looking nothing like the Disney character the world had fallen in love wit
h decades ago. Behind it, I spotted a makeshift dugout, and inside I noted three little warthog faces. The little creature made a loop around my boulder, huffing, and then stopped between me and her—I assumed it was a her, anyway—young.

  Apparently I’d stumbled in to a den of sorts, and I couldn’t blame her for charging me. However, any time I tried to climb off the rock, she came at me again, all huffy breaths and flashing tusks.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I yelped, scrambling back up the boulder, hands up innocently. “I just want to leave!”

  She seemed to tense with every movement, her little body squared for a fight, and we both jumped when a familiar laugh pierced right through the tense scene. I looked up sharply, mortified to find Grant watching from a safe distance. Dressed in a pair of fitted khakis and a dark blue polo shirt, he looked sinfully at ease in this environment—and not the least bit sweaty. Donning his classic aviators, his bright smile made my already tense stomach knot uncomfortably, and his thick dark hair ruffled in the gentle breeze.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fearing for my life,” I spat, my hands in fists. “What does it look like?”

  Why was he even out here? Last I’d heard Grant had left early in the morning to check on some building sites. He pulled his sunglasses up and set them on top of his head, amused. The warthog whirled around at the newest arrival, and I could only imagine her panic now that she had two beasts to fend off.

  “She has babies,” I said, somewhat half-heartedly, as Grant stepped forward. He moved through the tall grasses with better care than I did—probably why he’d seemed to appear out of nowhere. Apparently I was the only idiot around to let the whole savannah know I was coming.

  “Scat,” he barked, flailing his arms at her once she had her sights on him. The little beastie stood her ground until he was about two feet from her, but when it was obvious he wasn’t backing down, his tall frame bearing down on her, she turned and retreated into her burrow. Dust flew from her tiny hooves, and before I knew it, she was gone. My jaw dropped, and I let out an irritated groan.

  “Why didn’t she do that for me?”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re hiding on top of a rock,” he chuckled, the sound soothing over my taut nerves. “Here, let me help you…”

  I could have brushed his hand away, ignoring the affectionate look in his eye as he reached for me. Instead, I let him wrap his large hands around my waist, my own hands splayed over his broad shoulders, and like we were in a movie, he hoisted me up and set me down in front of him. Acutely aware of the closeness and the way my heart pounded, I stepped back and smoothed my hand over my hair, as if that would fix the chaos on top of my head.

  “Thanks.”

  “You just have to be confident,” he told me with a slight smirk, nudging my arm before turning back to the village. “They all respond well to confidence.”

  I fell in step beside him, my hands in my pockets to keep them from brushing against his arm, which swung by his side. “Easier said than done, friend.”

  “Oh, come on…” he teased, bumping into me again as we strolled through the grasses. The closer we drew to the village, the more the grasses shortened and thinned out, as if they’d been worked over by the local agriculturalists. “You’re a confident lady. I can see it in there.”

  “I’ll try to remember the next time I’m attacked by a warthog,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Hopefully confidence works on bigger things too.”

  “That’s a good point.” When I glanced up at him, there was a slight clench to his jaw. “What were you doing out here alone? There are worse things than warthogs and snakes to worry about.”

  “Snakes?!” I scrambled closer as a new wave of panic wash over me, clutching his arm. “Where?!”

  “Everywhere,” he laughed, and I swear I felt him flex in my grasp. “But seriously, Clara, don’t go off by yourself anymore.”

  I let go of him and took a step back, bristling at the chastisement. “It was just a quick walk.”

  “Maybe next time I can come with you, just in case—”

  “If you’re so lucky,” I remarked coolly.

  We lapsed into a somewhat tense silence after, him annoyed at me for being a grown-up and me annoyed at him for pointing out my mistake. Once we’d reached the volunteer huts, we parted ways, him heading to the village and me scrambling for my fan. Once I’d cooled off, I was big enough to see my error in going alone, but when I went out to find him, he was gone, nowhere to be seen. While I would have preferred to track him down, maybe give some semblance of an apology, my day took a turn when I was called to help prepare the midday meal.

  I guess we’d just have to leave it at that—annoyed with one another, spurred only by my stubbornness.

  Damn.

  Chapter Two

  “You know, I was worried about getting a hot shower when I first started doing this,” Gloria, my fellow volunteer (gracefully settling into retirement volunteering around the world, great at preparing bread), told me as she stripped down. I averted my eyes and cleared my throat, clutching my shower caddy and a towel to me. “But really, cold showers feel so much better in this heat.”

  “I guess there’s a bright side to everything,” I muttered, shooting her a smile as she breezed by me, naked and happy, and stepped into her cubicle. This… would take some getting used to. Today wasn’t the first day I’d showered, but there was definitely still a learning curve to the whole thing.

  I guess I should have been happy there was running water at all. I mean, my mom pictured me bathing in a river with crocodiles—or something equally unnerving—so this, in hindsight, wasn’t really all that bad.

  There were two communal shower areas for the whole village, and each was separated into a male and female side. I suspect the second shower section, which was smaller than the one I’d seen closer to the locals’ homes, was more of an afterthought for the volunteers who cycled through over the years. It wasn’t much shower heads poked out from either side of a thick cement wall, and the various stalls were roomy enough for two people to shower comfortably beneath one nozzle. A wooden fence surrounded the whole area, offering bathers some privacy. Several hooks on the wooden fence were there to keep our towels and clothes from getting wet.

  I’d never been to summer camp. I didn’t do the shared shower thing. College dorm bathrooms were a dream compared to this, but again, I knew I couldn’t complain. My first day of teaching was tomorrow, and I wanted to be fresh and squeaky clean to greet my students—even though I’d already met most of them at this point, and they’d all seen my sweaty, messy self yesterday after my run-in with the warthog.

  That was a story I’d kept to myself. I’m sure Grant would never let it go, but I wasn’t keen on becoming the laughing stock of the village. Cornered by a warthog. Hiding on top of a boulder.

  Not a good start to my time here.

  While we might have ended things a bit abruptly, Grant had been pleasant enough during our shared meals with the villagers. A little standoffish maybe, but that was what I wanted. He didn’t owe me anything. I didn’t need him to hold my hand through this. I could manage on my own just fine.

  Unless there was a warthog around. Guhh.

  Once Gloria had her back turned, rambling on about the sheer ingenuity of the showering system, I hesitantly peeled off my sweaty clothes and hung them on the hook. They’d definitely need to be laundered. Hands over my womanly bits, I peered around the fence opening, worried about Peeping Toms. Strangely enough, I’d yet to feel sexualized or objectified by a single man here, local or otherwise. It was like the human body was just that—a human body. There were no leers at the length of my shorts, nor did I find anyone peering at my sweat soaked shirt with my bra poking through.

  Even Grant had been respectful, so I shouldn’t have been the least bit surprised when I peered out and found nothing but farm fields and cows staring back at me. Bonfire smoke had started to rise from the center of the village, and give
n the lateness of the afternoon, I’d have to power through washing and drying to not be late for dinner.

  “Well, are you getting in? Water’s a nice balmy tepid,” Gloria chortled, and I shuffled across into my shower stall in my flip-flops, face red that she’d seen me naked too. I needed to get over it; I knew that, but… Well, I needed time to adjust, definitely. Grasping the metal nozzle, I turned it all the way to hot and stepped out of the surprisingly powerful stream of water.

  “Oh, wow, really tepid,” I laughed, holding out my hand under the cascading droplets. “This is almost room temperature.”

  “Like I said, won’t last long,” she told me as she lathered her thin hair up with shampoo. It was then I realized that I’d forgotten my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in my hut. Gloria must have noticed my face fall, because before I could say a word, she’d handed me the shampoo over the cement divider between our stalls, grinning. “I thought you were looking a little empty-handed on the way over.”

  As awkward as it was to have a shower friend, this was definitely a time it came in handy. I smiled thankfully, accepting the nondescript bottle and squeezing the smallest of blobs onto my palm. I then set it on the divider, working the yellowish shampoo into my hair.

  “I remembered my shower shoes and everything,” I lamented, wiggling my toes in my flip-flops, “but I forgot the most important parts of a shower.”

  “It’ll all become routine soon, love, not to worry.”

  I sighed, then stood beneath the stream, water pelting my face. It would all become a routine. I’d get used to it in time—the heat, the people, the food. But I wanted ‘in time’ to be now. I wanted to be on par with the rest of them. I was sick of people seeing me struggle. Why couldn’t I just get with the program? Why couldn’t my body adjust faster?

  If I didn’t have to keep them closed, I would have rolled my eyes. Ridiculous expectations set a person up for failure, and I hadn’t come out here to fail.