Sara was
bent over her computer as Millie entered the room. “Don’t tell me you’ve been on that since I
went upstairs!”
“You know,
research can become addictive—especially online. Legitimate sources don’t want to give out
information, and questionable sources are more than willing to tell anything
for a price.”
“Were you
able to find something?”
“Well, I
did find out that your Robbie spent most of his years with a full or part-time
connection to the Southern Poverty Law Center.
He retired in 2006 but I can’t seem to find out where he went from
there.”
Millie
looked down at Gilly’s wagging tail.
Smelling the coastal air sent him into an ecstatic state. “Why don’t we take the dogs for a walk on the
beach? It’ll wear them out and they’ll
sleep tonight.”
They walked
along the shore as the dogs ran into the water then raced to get away from the
incoming tide. Sara put her arm around
Millie’s shoulders. “Sweetie, we’ll work
on this more tomorrow when we’re both fresh.
Now, more wine that will bring the courage to continue!”
Sara, the
Courageous—a nickname she’d earned during their years in Kenya. Millie, the idea person, needed Sara, the
courageous one, to help carry her creative thoughts to fruition—going to
locations the State Department orders had discouraged; getting involved in
women’s cultural issues that were forbidden in those years; and driving all
over Kenya on horrible roads and alongside even worse Kenyan drivers—who
usually passed their driving tests by way of chai—bribery.
As
independent as they both pretended to be, they relied completely on one
another. In fact, realizing that fact
was what convinced Sara to return to the States. As difficult as it was for both, they knew it
was the right decision.
But of all
they shared, Millie had never told Sara about Robbie. Those precious memories of Robbie stayed with
Millie alone—until now.
Gilly and
Arthur, Sara’s beautiful mutt—who showed at least four breeds, along with
white, black and brown fur in meandering patches—were exhausted after an hour’s
run on the beach. They all made their way back to the
house. Laughing, the women concluded
the on-guard-protector in the dogs
would certainly not be on duty that night.
Dinner
consisted of hummus and homemade baked crackers and wine—several glasses in
fact. Millie couldn’t remember when
she’d had so much wine in one day.
By the fireplace that evening, they
reminisced about Kenya—reminding
one another of situations and events that brought both laughter and tears—the
wine probably adding to the emotional climate. Remember when the Kikuyu elder in the village came to ask us why we
were talking with the women? And the man
who asked us to take him to America
and he would be our servant? Remember
the old mzee who took us to his home and told his wives they must not be like
us because we were too independent? They
discussed returning—something they would never do, but the thought at that
moment sounded exciting.
Robbie knew
nothing of Millie’s Kenyan adventures, yet at that moment it seemed unfair that
he didn’t know all about her life.
To be continued…
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