things up in no time, since neither of us ever harbored a grudge.
Still, I have no trouble recollecting the way we had locked horns about that particular issue, and with such ferocity we had both been shaken by my headstrong stubbornness, forceful manner, and dogged determination to get my own way. He won. I lost. But Sebastian conceded that he had met his match. As for me, I was astounded at myself. I had not known I could be such a hellion.
Ever since our affair had started I had hoped he would ask me to marry him. Nonetheless, I was caught off guard and surprised when he did so. He had always gone on so alarmingly about the age difference of twenty years. This was something which had never bothered me in the slightest; he was young and boyish in so many different ways, I never thought of him as being older than I.
“Who are we going to get to give you away?” he had asked a few weeks before the wedding.
In the end we had decided that Jack should do it. We had grown up together, he and I, and he was the next best thing I had to a brother.
The marriage took place at Laurel Creek Farm, in front of a local judge who was a long-standing acquaintance of Sebastian’s. The ceremony was held in the beautiful walled rose garden. It was simple and short, and once it was over there was a luncheon in the marquee on the lawn for the friends and family who had attended. Later that afternoon Sebastian and I had driven into New York City for dinner, glad to escape, to be alone, and married at last.
The following morning we set out for Africa, where we were to spend most of our honeymoon.
Our first stop was London and Claridge’s Hotel. Sebastian had booked a suite for us there, and we were staying for two weeks. He had certain business matters to attend to, and he had also wanted to get me rigged-out properly for our impending African sojourn. “You must have the right clothes, Vivi, you must be comfortable. We have to combat the heat, the sun, the constant travel, and the cold at night,” he had explained to me.
I had only been to London twice, both times with my mother and Gran Rosalie, and it was a special treat for me to be back there again with my husband.
I met many of Sebastian’s friends; we went to smart luncheons and elegant dinners; we attended the opera in Covent Garden, and saw several plays in the West End. I relished every minute of it. I was madly in love, and so it seemed was he. We spent a lot of time in bed giving pleasure to each other. He made love to me most expertly, spoiled me outrageously, dressed me fashionably, and showed me off proudly.
At one point, during the first week of our stay, Sebastian took me on our special shopping expedition for the appropriate clothing for East Africa, our next destination. He bought me lightweight cotton pants, cotton safari jackets, short-sleeved cotton shirts, as well as four pairs of really good soft leather boots and several large-brimmed felt bush hats for protection against the sun.
At the end of the two weeks in London we flew to Nairobi. This was to be our base for the three or four months Sebastian had planned for us to stay. And as long as I live I will never forget those months in Kenya. I was besotted with my husband, thrilled to be his wife, to share so many things with him, but I was also captivated by Africa the moment I set foot there. It was one of the most spectacularly beautiful places I had ever been to in my life, and I was awestruck.
Sebastian knew Kenya extremely well, and it gave him a great deal of pleasure to show me his favorite spots, the areas he loved the most, and which had enticed him back time after time. And how truly magical they were.
Piloting a small plane owned by a friend in Nairobi, he flew me over the vast expanse of land that was the Great Rift Valley. This ran from the north to the south of the country, and was bounded by soaring escarpments so high and formidable they defied description. At times the Great Rift Valley, arid and desolate in parts, seemed to resemble a giant moonscape to me, and when I mentioned this to Sebastian he agreed and said he found it an apt description.
In contrast were the lush and verdant savannahs where we went on safari. It was here that we either drove or trekked, photographing the extraordinary wildlife—leopard, lion, elephant, buffalo, rhino, cheetah, gazelle, zebra, wildebeest, and giraffe.
It was from the savannahs that Sebastian took me into the Maasai Mara Reserve, and once more I was stunned and overwhelmed by the beauty of the land and the big game animals roaming across their natural habitat. I felt transported back to the beginning of time, when the earth was young.
Moving on, we drove down to Lake Victoria at a leisurely pace, spent a week relaxing on its fertile shores. When we were rested and refreshed we struck out again, heading south toward the Tanzania border and Mount Kilimanjaro.
What an awesome sight that massive volcanic mountain was, and its elevation was so high its twin peaks were lost in clouds and mists, only visible if one dared to venture upward, upward, and farther upward. Neither of us were mountain climbers, and so we hiked only a short distance up its easier, and much lower, slopes.
We camped in the foothills of Kilimanjaro, and explored the surrounding area, and at night we made love under its giant shadow. The night skies were incredible. We would lie beneath a sky so clear, so smooth it looked like a high-flung canopy of perfect, untouched black velvet.
“A sheltering sky,” Sebastian would say to me time and again. One night, as we lay entwined in each other’s arms, listening to the night sounds, staring up at the crystal-clear stars, he had explained: “It was here in this land, under this same sky, that human life began eons and eons ago. This is the Cradle of Mankind, Vivi.” I listened attentively when he talked to me about Africa; I learned so much from him about that land, and about so many other things.
Following the sketchy, somewhat loose triangle Sebastian had mapped out, we moved slowly back up to Nairobi from Kilimanjaro, in order for him to show me the lakes and highlands of that particular area which he loved and knew intimately. Here too the land was extravagantly lush and spectacular, and I was more spellbound than ever. Oh those green hills of Africa…how they captured my imagination and my heart. I was forever in their thrall.
Poring over the album, my eyes settled on some snaps that had been taken of us on safari. Here were Sebastian and I, standing with our arms around one another, underneath a vivid flame tree in Thika. I thought I looked rather smart in my safari jacket, pants, and riding boots, my bush hat set at a jaunty angle.
Next to this I had placed an enlarged shot of the two of us flanking a Maasai herdsman. He was so proud and dignified, regal in his colorful, exotic tribal dress. The Maasai were tall and slender, a nomadic tribe who mostly herded cattle but were also renowned as fierce warriors.
And finally here we were, posing on the edge of Lake Nakura, one of the many soda lakes in Kenya, where the flamingo live. I stared hard at the pictures, marveling once more, thinking how amazing that scene was. The flamingos were a moving tidal wave of pink and flame, millions of wings spread across the vast dark waters of the lake. It was the most astonishing sight.
I have never forgotten those months in Africa with Sebastian…the memories are as fresh and vivid now as if I had been there only yesterday. In fact, it had been fourteen years ago.
Flipping the pages rapidly, not particularly interested in our other trips to other places at different times, I came at last to the old mill in Provence.
For a moment, I was quite startled at the images of the dilapidated, tumble-down structure which I had captured so carefully on film. I had completely forgotten what a dreadful ruin it had been, truly an eyesore when we first came across it by accident.
After
