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"Harm?"
"Hm?" he responded absently as he enjoyed his last cigar, with bemusement observing the Boerboel gnawing, slobbering, on the toy he'd given her. The stupefied look when presented with a gift from HIM would provide ammo for chuckling for weeks to come. Apparently with that one move he'd erased her grudges against him, temporarily at least, since she was letting him enjoy Claire's company without any dirty looks. .
After he finished this cigar, he'd decided, he would be quitting, for good. The diminished oxygen supply that made itself noticed in his new physically intense work (not to mention the threat of lung cancer) was no longer worth the indulgence. He was now mature enough to realize just what a bad and harmful (no pun intended) habit smoking was. But for now he'd enjoy his last smoke, the warmth and peacefulness of the Namibian dusk and the company...
"Why have you never married?"
...who had just stepped on the figurative landmine.
"What?" Harm started, not having expected the question, turning from observing the disappearing bush beyond the veranda, not porch, to the young woman sitting nearby under the small, but powerful lamp "Why haven't I married?"
"Yes." Claire paused in her work to peer at him.
He'd told her it could wait until the next day, no sense ruining her eyes for something stupid as that, but Claire had insisted the 100 Watt bulb in it's directed-beam housing was strong enough so she wouldn't need to strain her eyes. Besides, she'd said, there was only one shirt and one pair of pants to mend, she'd be done soon enough.
"How quickly are good deeds forgotten. Only a shirt and she already wishes someone else would do the work instead of her." Harm joked, stalling in an effort to buy some time.
"I already spilled my secrets today, so now it's your turn."
The quickness and cheekiness of her reply told him she'd had it prepared, which meant it wasn't an impulsive question.
Oh well, she was his friend, she'd revealed a lot of her life to him, so it was time he divulged some of his hidden parts as well. They already knew pretty much everything else about each other and it wasn't like he had something against her knowing. When he'd moved here nobody pressured him into telling his life story and later he just pushed it out of his mind, going on with his new life and ignoring his old one.
Still, it was not the right time for going into the entire Diane's murder mess, that would be left for later, much later. Averting his gaze to his cigar he started tentatively.
"There was someone once that meant a lot to me, but... I thought I had all the time in the world. She was my partner for a year and got transferred out before I could get my six in gear. Then I was assigned a new partner, with whom I eventually got caught up in a limbo that lasted for years and destroyed every relationship I had or hoped to have during that time. It took Mac delivering the kill shot to whatever we had for me to realize we were wrong from the start, that it was better nothing ever happened."
To his surprise he caught the brief flash of anger at his mention of the other woman's name. He expected her to say something about the woman who'd come there to again demolish his life, but was surprised when she skillfully directed the topic away.
"Partner?"
"At JAG - the Judge Advocate General Corps. I was an attorney. A barrister-solicitor to you, my imperialistic friend." Harm joked, laughing outloud when Claire poked her tongue out at him.
"Hey, hey, hey! Lay off the insults!" she grinned, eyes sparkling "I knew you were an attorney, just didn't know you had partners assigned. Besides, look who's accusing whom of imperialism - we only have an island and you want the entire world!"
Then she corrected with a comical expression and a horribly exaggerated accent "I say, my dear Colonial chap, need I remind you my family has been living in Africa for over 100 years? I was born here and I'll die here. I'm just as much British as your great-grandchildren will be American if you remain."
The next second Claire wanted to hit herself for pointing the big, neon sign with flashing multi-colour lights at the huge pink elephant in the room.
There was no-one else more aware of the fact than she was that Harm was yet to give any indication his stay in Africa was anything but temporary. For all she knew he'd be staying only until he got his feet back under him and then he'd be moving back to the US. Heck, he was maybe staying for only one more week before going back. Her remaining time with him was no doubt numbered.
She was also all too aware of how attached she'd become to him in this short amount of time they'd been part of each other's lives. Thus the last thing she wanted was thinking about him leaving, especially since they'd been having such an enjoyable evening.
"True." Harm agreed amicably, intentionally ignoring the unintended implications he'd sensed, then sent her a questioning look "Die here? You don't want to go out and see the world?"
"Oh, I wouldn't mind seeing some of it." she agreed readily as she resumed her work "But I wouldn't want to live there."
"Not even in the US?" he continued, unsure why he wanted to know.
"Not even there. While there are no doubt a few amazing people there, the ones that haven't escaped yet, that is," she smirked mischeviously at him "I don't think I would like the culture or the crime rate from what I've read and found out from people who lived there. Mind you, I wouldn't want to live in the UK either, it's too restricted. Did you know the British are probably the most monitored nation in the West if not the world? There are more public-places government-run surveillance cameras per citizen than anywhere else."
"Didn't know that." Harm responded, looking at his friend in wonder.
"I'm happy here, I love my life and I love Africa. Even with all it's faults and problems you're still more free and safer here than anywhere in the West. There are no cameras, no secret agencies, no secret police, no consumerism, no anything breathing down your neck. The pace of life is slower, more relaxed and people-friendly, at least in Namibia. Besides, the number of Westerners escaping their countries to start anew in Africa has to mean something. Yes, it can be quite dangerous to live here at times, but proportionally more people are killed in the US, both through violence or in traffic accidents. Other pros outweigh the cons. Further, there's the weather, the nature and the environment, especially in the Kalahari, that make up for the cons, I can think of only few other places in the world as beautiful and even as varied as Africa. Life here may be more modest, we have a lot less, but true happiness and inner peace is not dependent of material possessions."
"You've got me there." Harm had no choice but to agree.
Not simply because of all the cases he'd personally seen during his time in Namibia, but also because he himself was proof of her words. In DC he'd had so much stuff it had taken his mother and his only real remaining friend there, Coates, the better part of a week to sort it out and pack up to either be gifted to charity, sold or put in storage (only about a box or two). The apartment had then been sold. Frank had further sold the Lexus in his stead and put the Corvette and Sarah in storage. With a few determined moves Harm had completely severed his former life in the US
If he decided to stay in Africa he would further have Frank sell the 'Vette as well as he would no longer need it. He wasn't sure what to do with Sarah in that case though. While he could use her in his job here as it would make control of the park easier, the old plane was more maintenance costly and demanding than the better alternative, a Microlight, plus getting her over the Atlantic would've cost a fortune. True, with the money from the apartment and the cars he could easily afford the costs, but the question was, was it even sensible to bring the plane over here. Plus, there were no spare parts to find locally, Stearman airplanes never really caught on in Africa and shipping from US to Africa was problematic.
The money that he had in the bank in the US was as good as inexistent - he didn't use it or had plans to use it anytime soon, nor even the need to use it anyhow, thus for him it didn't really exist. The only thing he really had were his hat, three shirts, three pairs of cargo shorts, two pairs of long cargo pants, underwear for a week, even fewer socks, a single pair of boots and some toiletries. He didn't even own a car here since he had no absolute need for one, something that had taken him a while and an attitude adjustment - actually more like rooting-out the way he'd been raised and indoctrinated by the society he'd lived most of his life in, to get used to.
And he was happy.
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