my business.” Careful not to look Thorne in the face, her eyes went from his ear to his neck. Grief welled in the center of her throat and tears threatened to overflow from her eyes at any moment. And just looking at him might set her off.
“It’s my livelihood and reputation. If you’re going to bail out the least you can do is tell me why.”
Sasha lowered her eyes to the ground as dozens of should haves and could haves crowded into her head all at once.
“He’s dead.”
“Good God,” Thorne rushed. “Your father’s passed away?”
Instinctually, she pushed the thought of her father’s mortality away. “No, my godfather.”
“I’m sorry, love.”
From the corners of her eyes, Sasha glimpsed the photographer shift back and forth with indecision. He didn’t know whether to comfort her with a hug or take another step back. Although they came from separate continents and had radically different experiences growing up, it hadn’t taken Sasha long to notice the big similarity: neither of them dealt well with the human species in emotional situations.
In a somber voice, he said, “Sasha, there’s no way you can make it back to the States for the funeral.”
The uncharacteristically strained tone in his voice derailed her train of thought. She simply nodded her head. “I know.”
Sasha’s knees could no longer bear the weight of her sorrow. Her knees gave out and she collapsed back against a tree. Ignoring Thorne completely, she lost herself with precious memories of Uncle Camden. Eight months ago, he had surprised her by showing up in England on the very day of her acceptance into the Zoological Academy. Just last month, she’d called to wish him happy birthday. She’d begun to end the conversation with “I love you.” But he hadn’t heard it because the line had been disconnected.
Only with the sudden loss did she come to grips with the depth of emotions for her sixty-year-old godfather. Grief consumed her. She wanted to share more time with him. She wanted Uncle Camden to be her guide again like he was years ago, as they explored the rainforests and Mayan ruins of Belize; when they ran from alligators, camped on barges and tracked black howler monkeys for two weeks. She wanted to eat peanut butter sandwiches and drink coffee so strong that it doubled as an insect repellant. Her sorrow deepened and memories gave way to tears.
“I’ll start packing,” Thorne volunteered.
“Thank you,” she whispered. The finality of the moment weighed on her shoulders. She thought about her parents, her great aunt Margaret and her best friend, Lena. The images of all her loved ones flashed through her mind. Sasha was no stranger to death. After having spent all of her life observing nature’s cycle of birth and death, she’d come to accept it. This time, however, death cut to the bone.
Moments later after she’d managed some semblance of control over her runaway emotions, Sasha stood up and without a word, pushed back the tent flap and stepped inside. “We’ll be back soon, Thorne,” she said huskily.
However, even as she voiced those words she had a feeling in the bottom of her stomach that it wouldn’t be as soon as she hoped.
Chapter 2
Atlanta, Georgia
Two days after learning of her godfather’s death, Sasha woke one limb at a time.
The feeling of blood pumping through her veins and the dull ache in her back brought the welcome sensation of being alive. Yet, the source of the pain took her a moment to figure out. Slowly as the haze of sleep began to lift, she realized that for the first time in weeks she’d slept in a bed. Actually, a feather bed with four down pillows, soft cotton sheets and a down comforter.
She opened her eyes and squinted into the darkness before rolling over and reaching. Her long fingers encountered nothing but the soft duvet cover. Sasha looked at the glow of the bedside clock—10:30 a.m. She’d slept three hours, but she felt as if she’d been sleeping for a few minutes. She rolled over again and fumbled around until she managed to locate the switch for the bedside lamp. Low light suffused the room. Thick drapes covered two windows, a flat screen television flanked by heavy dark furniture and crème-colored walls.
Sasha pushed a pillow behind her back and inhaled the lavender scent exuding from the bed sheets. The king-size sleigh bed shouted luxury.
Uneasy, Sasha picked up the telephone and began to dial. Because of the sanctions against Cuba, she had to dial a service in Canada to be rerouted to her parents’ new home. A moment of silence passed as the international connection took place. When if finally came, the stuttered ring made her heart slip a beat.
“Hello?” a familiar voice answered.
“Momma.”
“Sasha, baby. Where are you?”
She closed her eyes and gripped the phone tighter as her chest tightened. The sound of her mother’s voice simultaneously relieved her and reminded Sasha of how much she missed her family. She took a deep breath and steadied her voice before replying. “I’m calling from Atlanta.”
“Oh, baby. I’ve been praying for you since I found out about Camden. How are you?”
She sat up straighter. “I’m okay. Momma, does Dad know about Uncle Camden?”
“We got a letter in the mail about two weeks ago.”
Sasha cradled the phone tighter. “Did he come to the funeral?”
“No. I wanted to go, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
Part of her wanted to voice the unspoken question of why. Yet, she held back. Her father was a man who lived by simple rules and staunch pride. No matter the history and connection between him and her godfather, Camden Ridgestone’s death wouldn’t have broken his vow never to see or speak to his best friend again.
“Is he around?”
“He’s out checking the caves. Now, how did you find out about Camden’s death? I thought you were on an island in the Asia.”
“Uncle Camden’s attorney tracked me down.”
“Why? It would have been impossible for you make it back in time for the funeral.”
“I’m required to be at the reading of the will,” Sasha responded slowly.
Several heartbeats passed before her mother said, “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I’m not sure I like it, either, but I really didn’t have a choice. Uncle Camden’s attorneys took care of everything from the plane tickets to this hotel suite.”
“Hotel suite?”
Sasha smiled and curled her legs under her like a child. “At the Ritz Carlton. The place has a bathroom bigger than my studio in Brooklyn. Not to mention the monogrammed slippers, bathrobes and a Jacuzzi tub.”
“Samuel won’t like the sound of that.”
