Love of All Kinds — Chapter One
AUGUST 1885 — Africa
Jane drew a deep breath into her chest, braced herself, and jumped from the small rowboat into the water surrounding her. Layers of petticoats and fabric most certainly were not conducive to swimming, but she persisted - kicking her legs and pulling herself through the water with her arms until she could touch her feet to the sandy ground again. Bogged down by a now even more cumbersome dress, she stumbled out of the water, where her hands grabbed onto Tarzan's forearms to steady herself on her feet. He had been standing at the edge of the water, watching, arguably quite sorrowfully, as Jane and her father departed to go back to London. "I can't do it," she panted, "I can't go." She paused to catch her breath - that swim had exhausted her more than she anticipated, and she was overcome by a sudden swell of new emotions. "I…I have to stay here."
Tarzan looked at her quizzically, as he often had done in the past, and asked, "For how long?" There was a sparkle of hope in his eyes.
Jane let out a short laugh, "For…forever. I'm not going back to England, at all."
His eyes widened in surprise, but then his expression softened again into a look of happiness. "Good," he said, his voice trailing off, as if he didn't know what to say.
Jane gave him a sheepish smile. "Yes, I, uh, I suppose it is. I was thinking I'd be able to give you a more dramatic reunion," she looked down at herself; her dress was still dripping with sea water from her swim back to the shore. "But, I seem to have exhausted all of my energy swimming back here. Arguably, I could've just turned the whole rowboat around and rowed back here with Daddy, but I really don't have the patience for that…although patience is a virtue, and—" Tarzan placed his index finger over her lips to quiet her for a moment, "I'm rambling again, aren't I?" she said, smiling in spite of herself.
He smiled and nodded. "You're staying," he repeated, "You're staying. That's all I want." Jane blushed, and wrung some of the water out of her long, brown hair.
Jane had to admit, she had probably looked quite silly, stumbling back onto the sandy shore, trying not to fall, with a bundle of soaking wet fabric and petticoats gathered in her arms so she wouldn't trip over her own clothing. Coordination and athleticism had never quite been her forte.
She could feel a certain fluttering in her chest - a flutter of happiness, or joy, or shock - maybe all three combined. Without thinking, she pulled Tarzan in closer to her, and pressed her lips against his. The fluttering feeling in her chest increased - but she didn't mind; she liked it, quite a lot.
The mid-August sun beat down with an intensity that was both stifling, and oddly pleasant to Jane. Everything felt warm, and soft, but strong - the sun, the embrace, the kiss - all of it. She could get used to this - very used to this, indeed.
Her mind snapped out of her personal reveries, and she pulled back, but not too eagerly. She turned around to look out at the ocean that she had, minutes earlier, plunged into. The sun reflected off it - almost blindingly bright. Jane squinted, trying to catch sight of her father.
Her father had nearly reached the shoreline in their small rowboat. "I take it we're staying?" he called out.
Jane nodded, chuckling. "I don't suppose the captain will be too happy, having to bring all of our things back here."
"No, no, I suppose he won't be," Professor Porter said, "Never mind it, though. I'm sure people have made more demanding requests."
—
a few minutes earlier
The waves rolled steadily but gently in towards the shore. A soft, warm breeze ruffled the foliage lining the edge of the jungle. Birds could be heard - and occasionally seen flying overhead. A few clouds hung in the sky, but not nearly enough to interfere with the light of the midday sun. The small rowboat rocked gently with the swells and falls of the ocean. Jane and her father journeyed, slowly but surely, out to the larger ship, waiting deeper out in the ocean.
Jane looked down at her feet - willing herself not to look behind her, back at the beach, and back at what - and who - she was leaving behind. She felt a pang of…something in her chest, and she knew she couldn't leave. She let out a sigh. But she had to leave. Did she want to? No. All of her instincts were screaming at her to turn around.
A knot of anxiety began to form in her stomach. She knew what she had to do, but, blast it all, screwing up the courage to do it was proving to be difficult.
She did what she told herself she wouldn't do: she looked behind her. "I can't do this," she whispered, to no one but herself.
"What's that?" her father asked, "I didn't quite hear you."
Jane turned back to face her father, "Daddy," she lamented, "I don't think I can do this." His eyes softened, understanding her dilemma.
"Do what?" he prodded.
"Leave. Go back to England…never come back. Never see all of this again." He nodded. The knot in her stomach grew, the further away from the shore they got.
Jane turned around again, looking at the beach, getting smaller and smaller. The smaller it got, the more her heart hurt. She pulled off her white gloves, and placed them, along with her hat, on the bottom of the boat. "I know what you want to do," her father said. "You can. Go. I'll be right behind you"
She needed no more prompting than this. With her father's approbation, she inhaled deeply and leapt into the water. She was going back.
Tarzan, standing on the beach, where the water met the sand, saw the exchange - albeit, from a distance. He saw Jane jump into the water. His brow furrowed in confusion. A feeling of hope swelled in his chest — perhaps she was coming back, even if for just one more minute, he would welcome it. He quelled his surge of emotion, but did not completely stifle it. She could be coming back. Perhaps. Hopefully.
