A/N: When we took my daughter to the zoo for her birthday last week, I realized that I had made a major tactical error: there are, in fact, no Asian (Indian) elephants at the Toronto Zoo. So I had to make something up. Sorry about that.
Also: the little button that inserts breaks in the text isn't working for some reason -- it's not that I suddenly forgot how to do that :P.
Update A/N: Ack! Post in haste, repent at leisure. Some mistakes fixed, but others no doubt remain.
The usual disclaimers apply.
-----------------------------------Chapter 12: Toronto, 2–3 August
Dedicated to Patsy, the Toronto Zoo's African elephant matriarch, 1966–2006.
As a veterinary student, Daine had spent a great deal of time at the launderette near her shared flat, and had sometimes, when not watching where she was going, walked past the enormous grille that vented all the dryers to the outdoors. Stepping out of the air-conditioned chill of the terminal into a Toronto heat-wave – even at half eight in the evening – felt very much the same.
Daine gasped as the hot, wet air slapped at her skin; inhaling it felt worse yet. "Steady on, love," Numair murmured, putting one hand between her shoulder blades and steering her forward. "Just a bit farther."
Laurel led the way through a bewildering multi-level car park to the family vehicle, a battered navy-blue Toyota mini-van of indeterminate vintage whose rear bumper was festooned with Toronto Zoo stickers – and one that read, in florid Gothic lettering, "Mediaevalists do it with illumination".
Laurel, misunderstanding Numair's chuckle as he read this last, grinned ruefully. "I know," she said. "Jan and I always swore we'd never buy a mini-van, but there we were with two kids and two Labs, and then Ben started playing hockey, and before we knew it …"
Emma and Ben were scrambling into the back of the vehicle; Daine followed them, leaving the front passenger seat for Numair and his long legs. The rear windows seemed not to be openable, which gave her pause; but once they had cleared the tangle of overlapping roads and construction signage that led from the terminal to the motorway, she was almost grateful to be shut inside the van. "That," she heard Numair remark to Laurel, "is a very busy motorway."
"This one?" Laurel returned. "This is only the Gardiner Expressway. You should see the four-oh-one – it's sixteen lanes, and probably bumper-to-bumper at this time of day."
Daine, in the rear seat with Emma, shuddered.
"Are you okay, Daine?" Laurel asked, peering at her via the rear-view mirror. "If you're feeling queasy, let me know—"
"Not queasy," Daine managed, rather puzzled that her friend should think this was the problem. "Just, em, thankful not to be on this 'four-oh-one' of yours."
———
"Daine, Numair," said Laurel, "this is my husband, Jan ten Kortenaar."
Numair and the rangy, blue-eyed Jan shook hands, grinning at each other. Daine, however, did not manage to participate in this greeting ritual; in addition to the two Labrador retrievers who had erupted from the house with Jan and were now doing their best to lick her all over, she was laughing too hard to speak.
"I'm sorry," she managed at last, wiping her eyes. "It's just that I've never seen Numair look up at anyone before …"
Laurel and the children chuckled and disentangled her from the dogs. Numair and his six-foot-ten-inch new friend, however, were not present to enjoy the joke; they had already disappeared into the tall, narrow, creeper-encrusted house, carrying the visitors' rucksacks and discussing in animated tones a poem by Christine de Pisan whose interpretation had apparently been worrying Numair for some time.
———
After dinner Emma and Ben dragged Daine off to show her their turtles, rabbits, and tarantula. Snatches of animated conversation and explosions of laughter drifted downstairs to the kitchen, where Laurel, Jan and Numair sat among the remains of the late meal, drinking tea, with dogs sleeping on their feet.
"The kids are smitten, all right," said Jan.
"I told you," Laurel grinned. "And they've been pleasant to each other for almost three straight hours. Hey, Numair, can you and Daine stay a few weeks?"
Numair shook his head, laughing. "Daine's nearly at the end of her holidays," he explained, "and our … pet-sitter will want her life back, I should think. But it's kind of you to offer."
"Kind, nothing," Laurel retorted. "I haven't seen Ben get this enthused about anything that wasn't hockey or a computer game for … well, a long time, anyway."
"Daine does have that effect on people."
"This is such a tricky stage," said Laurel, with a sigh. "Not as bad as the teens, from what I gather, but trust me, you should enjoy the baby stage while you can …"
She had spoken light-heartedly, old hand to new recruit; to her surprise, Numair looked very sad. "I hope we shall, someday," he said, staring mournfully into his mug of tea.
Laurel, about to ask what on earth he meant, was stopped by her husband's warning look. "Well, right now, I think we should all get to bed," she said instead, rising briskly from the table. "Honey, can you go wrangle the kids? I'll clean up."
"I'll help," Numair offered; Laurel waved him away. "After what you two have been through, I'm surprised you didn't fall asleep right here at the table. Go to bed, already. You can wash dishes tomorrow if you really want to."
Numair protested, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it.
Jan had gone upstairs; from above came more energetic protests from Ben, and Laurel heard Emma declare loudly, "Daddy, I want Aunt Daine to put me to bed."
———
"You're not coming to the Zoo with us?" Daine made an effort not to sound disappointed.
Clearly, Numair was not fooled. "I'm sorry, dear heart," he said, genuine contrition in his voice. "Jan's promised to show me the University's rare-book-and-manuscript library – it's a phenomenal collection apparently – and it won't be open tomorrow. Besides, vetkin," he went on, "Khaja doesn't even know me. She'll want to see you."
Daine sighed. "I know," she said. "I rather thought you might like to meet her."
Between them hung the unspoken words, given that she saved both our lives.
"I'll tell you what," Numair said after a moment. "If you like, I'll go back with you tomorrow. We can go on the bus if Laurel has got other plans."
"I shall hold you to that, you know."
"Yes, love, I know. Now—" Numair stood up from his seat on the edge of their bed and offered Daine a hand up— "oughtn't we to go and have our breakfast?"
———
Laurel cornered Daine after breakfast. "You haven't told him yet?" she demanded.
Daine stared at her, bewildered: "Told who, what?"
"Told your husband," Laurel said, slowly and patiently, "that he's going to be a dad."
Daine felt, if anything, more flummoxed than before. "But he isn't," she said. "I mean – not that I know of. We've been trying for ages, but—"
"Well, you sure look pregnant to me. You ate three helpings of breakfast, and that t-shirt definitely wasn't so tight across the chest the last time I saw it." Daine looked down. The t-shirt in question – a present for her eighteenth birthday – was a memorable one, vivid orange and emblazoned with the bright-purple handprints of three small Coopers; and it certainly did look more … form-fitting today than it had ever done before. More, perhaps, than could reasonably be blamed on over-indulgence at pancake breakfasts. "Peed on a stick lately?" Laurel continued.
Daine squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a little shake, certain she had heard wrong. When she opened her eyes again, her friend was still looking at her expectantly. "Em … I think you're speaking Canadian," she ventured.
Laurel laughed. "Sorry about that," she said. "I meant, when was the last time you did a pregnancy test?"
"I've no idea," Daine admitted, "but, look, just last week I had—"
"Breakthrough bleeding," Laurel said confidently. "I had it with both of mine, all through the first trimester. Lots of people do."
An irrational surge of hope made Daine feel almost dizzy. "Really?" she asked, her voice a little breathless. The bleeding had been lighter than usual – though she had hardly noticed at the time, being so preoccupied with other things – and it had gone away after only three days …
"Really," Laurel confirmed. "Honestly, Daine, I'd put money on it. Don't take my word for it, though – we'll stop at Shoppers on the way back from the Zoo, and you can pick up a test."
———
At eight-thirty Laurel and Daine – having seen their husbands off to the subway station, chatting amicably in a bizarre mixture of English, French, and Latin – herded Emma and Ben into the mini-van and began their journey. Their first stop was to decant Emma, and a bag of gear nearly as big as she was, at the nearby Riverdale Park for something called "soccer camp"; next they dropped Ben at the adjacent school, where he was to spend the day playing basketball. By ten minutes to nine they were eastbound on the busy and variously populated Kingston Road, headed for the Toronto Zoo.
"So," said Laurel, eyes on the traffic ahead, "tell me the long version."
"Beg pardon?" Daine, startled, drew back from her open window.
"Of your story with Khaja," Laurel clarified. "You said the short version is that she saved your life – now I want the long one. We have time now, and no audience."
Daine thought for a moment. "It's complicated," she said. "And rather far-fetched. And when I said 'long' – we could be at it all morning."
The older woman glanced at her, then returned her attention to her driving. "You have somewhere else to be?" she queried mildly. When Daine did not immediately reply, she went on: "Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But if she were your patient, wouldn't you want to know?"
"Well, when you put it like that …"
There was a long silence. Finally, Daine took a deep breath and began: "There was this conference on bioterrorism …"
———
By the time she had finished, they were in the zoo's staff car park, facing each other across the gear-box of the van; Daine was in tears, Laurel staring in disbelief. Belatedly, she reached back for a box of tissues and handed it to Daine, who blew her nose and mopped her eyes. "Sorry about the waterworks," she said.
"I want you to know," Laurel said slowly, "that if anybody else told me that story, I wouldn't believe it."
"But you do believe me?" Daine blew her nose again.
"I spent two weeks with you. I saw those rabbits on the campus, and all those animals at the zoo. Sandy told me what happened with the horses. I don't know what it is about you, but, frankly, your being rescued by a bunch of escaped wild animals is the most plausible part of the whole thing."
Daine laughed damply. "You can ask Numair," she offered. "I've probably missed out a few bits – most of the exciting stuff happened while I was stuck underground."
"I'll think about it," said Laurel dubiously. "But I have a feeling I'm already going to have nightmares. Now," she added after a moment, sounding more like herself, "let's go and see our elephant."
———
The Zoo was vast, easily the largest Daine had ever seen. She was torn between wanting to see Khaja as soon as possible and wishing she could spare the time to meet and become acquainted with the hundreds of other interesting and engaging beasts who made their homes here. Even without many stops, their progress was slowed both by the crowds of zoo visitors and by the thick, moist, thirty-five-degree air.
"The habitat is still a bit makeshift," Laurel was warning her, as they passed the Bactrian camels, which came to the edge of their enclosure to get a better look at Daine. "We've never had an Indian elephant before, but we were offered Khaja all expenses paid, so to speak, and I guess the committee just couldn't resist. I feel bad for her, though – the habitat's being built around her, which must be really stressful, and she's all by herself. Did she have a herd where she came from?"
Daine shook her head. "That was a makeshift collection," she said scornfully. "Half the beasts had been poached from game reserves in Africa. So, then, the pregnancy—"
"AI," Laurel confirmed. "The first successful try in an Asian elephant, by the way. We're very proud. And it's gone beautifully so far – Khaja's doing just great."
They were nearly there now; Daine caught an unmistakable whiff of elephant on the furnace-like breeze. Then they rounded a corner in the path, and there – trumpeting a welcome so enthusiastic that startled passersby jumped and Laurel clapped her hands over her ears – was an unmistakably pregnant Khaja.
Daine gave a delighted whoop and, despite the heat, broke into a run. "Hold on!" she heard Laurel call; "Don't climb the fence, for heaven's sake. We'll go in the back."
"I'll be right there," Daine promised Khaja, dropping back to follow Laurel. "Sorry," she muttered.
"No worries," said Laurel good-humouredly; "it's not as if I wasn't warned." When Daine raised an eyebrow at this, she went on, "Numair told me you'd probably do something like that. He said the first time you went to the Edinburgh Zoo you tried to go swimming with the sea lions."
Daine frowned. "Well," she said, "I shall have a few things to say to him when we get back …"
But the moment Laurel turned the key and they passed into Khaja's indoor habitat, she forgot her annoyance in the joy of greeting her long-lost friend.
———
Laurel had arranged to have Khaja declared off-exhibit for the morning, and after a quick once-over of her patient she tactfully left Daine and her elephant alone. She lingered for a long moment in the doorway, however, thinking over the bizarre tale Daine had recently told her and watching as Daine clung to Khaja's foreleg, murmuring endearments through her tears, while Khaja examined Daine minutely with the tip of her trunk.
Suddenly it was easy to imagine her friendly little elephant carrying this odd woman to the rescue of her man.
As Laurel turned away from the keeper's door of the habitat, she nearly collided with her least favourite colleague. "I heard you were bringing your friend the Beastmaster to work today," he said cheerfully, trying to see past her through the window.
"Beast Whisperer," said Laurel, annoyed. "And it's Dr Sarrasri to you, Martin. She's talking to Khaja, and I promised her they wouldn't be disturbed for a while – they have a lot to catch up on. Did you need something?"
"Jack wants you to bring her by the office before you leave. He says he needs to talk to her."
"Jack couldn't call my cell to tell me that?" Laurel inquired.
Martin shrugged, and she sighed – no doubt he had volunteered to deliver the message in person, so that he could tell every subsequent person he talked to today that he had seen Laurel's peculiar friend in action. "Come on, Martin," she said. "We do have work to do, you know. Or are you on vacation today?"
Grumbling, he followed her back toward the camels.
———
At twelve o'clock Laurel returned to the Eurasia area of the zoo and unlocked the door to the elephant house. The scene that greeted her was comical: Khaja – whose pregnant belly, in the manner of pachyderms, extended nearly two feet on either side of her body – sat on her haunches against one wall, while Daine sat cross-legged between her forelegs, chatting calmly as to a bosom friend over coffee.
When she spotted Laurel, Daine jumped to her feet, patting Khaja's forehead in a "just a moment" gesture, and loped across the habitat to meet her. "Khaja told me the strangest thing," she said without preamble, and Laurel, who even yesterday might have queried the wording of this statement, simply asked, "What?"
"You know what you told me this morning?"
Laurel nodded, smiling.
"She says … You're going to laugh," Daine accused.
"I won't. I promise."
"She says she thinks it's wonderful that we're each expecting a calf."
———
"I almost forgot," Laurel said, when they had taken their leave of Khaja, with many promises from Daine to return the next day "with my mate", and were retracing their steps past the mule deer and the Bactrian camels. "Jack Taves wants to see you."
Daine looked at her, confused; she was still too overwhelmed with conflicting sensations to process anything she heard with her usual efficiency. If she had hesitated to believe Laurel, how could she so easily believe Khaja? Yet she was sure, somehow, that Khaja was right.
"Jack Taves," Laurel prompted, "the guy you said you knew from the feline VIN?"
The light went on. "Yes, of course," Daine said. "I'm sorry, Laurel, my head's in the clouds …"
Laurel grinned. "So you don't believe me, but you believe an elephant," she teased.
Daine stopped in her tracks. "How did you know I was thinking that?" she demanded.
"I didn't," said Laurel; now it was her turn to look confused. "Were you?" When Daine nodded, she sighed and said, "Look – I still think you should take a test. Okay?"
"Okay." Daine sighed in return, thinking – not for the first time in recent months – I really miss my mum.
———
Jack Taves was a stocky, suntanned man of forty or so, whose straight blond hair, sticking up from unruly cowlicks, framed a cherubic face with lively blue eyes behind thick spectacles.
"It's so nice to finally meet you in person," he told Daine, shaking her by the hand so enthusiastically that she half expected her feet to leave the floor. "How did you like the curriculum committee? They must have money to burn out there – when I recommended you to the Dean, I never actually thought they'd spring for airfare from Scotland …"
"So it was you!" Daine exclaimed. That explained more than it didn't.
"Sure," said Jack. "I didn't realize it was this big mystery. They wanted someone who knew about big cats, and I couldn't go, so I gave them a bunch of names from our list, but I told them you were the best there was. The best there is, I mean." He frowned, an odd expression on his relentlessly cheerful face.
"Well, thank you," said Daine, and meant it. "It was a very … enlightening experience. I didn't want to do it, you know," she admitted. "My husband talked me into it – but I'm so glad he did."
"Yes, Laurel mentioned that your husband tagged along. She says he's almost as ridiculously tall as hers." Jack, who was not much taller than Daine herself, grinned engagingly. "Do you want to come see my cats?" he asked.
Daine didn't wait to be asked twice.
———
Numair had spent a very pleasant day amongst the manuscripts and codices of the Thomas Fisher Rare Book and Manuscript Library at the University of Toronto. Between Jan and the Thomas Fisher librarians, he felt he could not have asked for more knowledgeable and interested guides to its mysteries, and he hoped Daine had had an equally enjoyable day with Laurel and her beasts.
He was eager to tell her all about the fascinating things he had read – though prepared, of course, for that particular look in her eyes that meant No more lists, Numair, and I mean it – and to hear about what she had been up to.
But when he followed Jan in the front door, he was immediately herded into the "family room," where Daine perched at the edge of a battered armchair, clutching something in both hands and looking up at him with shining eyes.
She sprang to her feet, laughing and weeping, and threw herself into his arms; he caught her and held her tight, burying his face in her soft, fragrant hair.
"'Mair," she whispered against his cheek, "you're going to be a dad."
———
Note: AI in this case is not "artificial intelligence" but "artificial insemination." In fact nobody has ever successfully done AI on an Asian elephant, but the Toronto Zoo is one of the institutions working on this problem. And, hey, this is fiction.