Page 82 of Love in the Wild

Twenty-nine small islands dotted the horizon of the lake, each of them a private paradise for anyone who wished to feel closer to nature and oneself. The waters of the lake were safe, free of parasites, crocodiles, and hippos. It was a true paradise. A perfect place for him and Eden to live.

Behind them, a fresh pair of graves marked the last resting place of Jacob and Amelia Haywood. It had been an easy decision to make. Jacob and Amelia belonged to Africa. It was in many ways as much their home as it was Thorne’s. Their spirits now lived here, helping to protect the jungle.

What Thorne had seen in the cave was something he would never be able to fully understand, let alone explain, but it was true that the stone that Holt had stolen was the heart of this jungle. Bwanbale had told Thorne he’d laid his body down in the center of the large part of the cave, surrounded by raw diamonds that glinted without light to reflect off them. Bwanbale had placed the uncut diamond he’d taken from Holt on Thorne’s chest. A strange pulsing beat had filled the cave, like the heartbeat of a mighty god. The earth had rumbled around them, and Bwanbale had known he was supposed to leave, so he’d fled the cave. After that, whatever had happened, Thorne had only flashes of memory that seemed over time to grow more and more dim within him the way dreams faded upon waking. Whatever power dwelt in the cave of that lost kingdom from long ago, it had given him back his life, and he’d had one last glimpse of his parents. That single image of their souls—glowing, endless, infinite—would never fade.

For more than twenty years that stone, the jungle’s heart, had been separated from its home. Now that it had been returned, there was a true sense of peace and calm over the land.

Quiet steps close by made him smile as Eden appeared at his side by the lake. She wrapped an arm around his back and leaned against his shoulder. Her free hand played with the gingko leaf necklace that hung around her neck. She only ever took it off to sleep at night. He pressed his cheek against the crown of her hair and closed his eyes as true contentment filled him.

“It’s so peaceful here,” she whispered.

“It is.” She turned so she faced him, and he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Eden, I am told there are better ways to do this, grand gestures a man should make or formal speeches, but I have only the words in my heart. Stay by my side. Be my mate forever.”

He paused, letting himself bask in the green of her eyes. “Marry me.” He touched the necklace at her throat. “I have no ring—but consider this my promise to you.” Thorne smiled. “When I gave it to you, I knew you were my destiny.”

Eden’s lips parted, and her eyes shimmered. The last thing he wanted was to see her cry. But not all tears were bad, or so he was told.

“Yes,” she replied. “Yes.” The secondyeswas softer, yet it seemed all the more powerful for the way her eyes glowed with love.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was a kiss that burned itself upon his soul. He wrapped his arms around her, deepening the kiss as he let his love for her pour out like the waterfall deep in the jungle, behind which they had first made love. Their love, like those falls, would forever flow wild and free.

Epilogue

“If I have ever seen magic, it has been in Africa.” —John Hemingway

Three years later

Thorne woke just before dawn. With a gentle kiss upon Eden’s brow, he slipped out of their king-size bed and padded softly down the hall. He wore light pajama pants, and the slightly humid air warmed him as he opened a door down the hall.

An elaborately carved crib was in one corner. The screened windows were open to allow a light breeze to drift through the room. He smiled at the tiny child as she stirred in her crib. He reached into the crib and picked up the baby, holding her to his chest. She had soft blonde curls like her mother, yet her eyes were blue like his. He nuzzled the crown of her hair, breathing in her scent and feeling the perfect weight of her in his arms. Above her, hanging from a set of ribbons to create a mobile, was his gold leaf crown. The voices of the jungle which still spoke to him, had murmured it was a gift for the child. He and Eden had hung the crown with care above their baby’s crib after she’d been born and he would never forget the way her chubby hands had reached desperately for the spinning circlet. Glints of light had lit up her green-blue eyes and the world around Thorne and his family had been quiet with respect.

“Good morning, my love,” he said to his daughter.

He could always sense when she woke up in the mornings. It drove Eden to frustration that Thorne always got up before her, worried that she had no motherly instincts. But Thorne always chuckled and kissed away his wife’s frown.

“She is a child of the jungle. I will always sense her when she needs me,” he’d said, and Eden had sighed with an understanding smile and rolled her eyes playfully.

He carried the child outside and stood on the porch of their home that faced Lake Bunyoni. He and Eden had built this house close to where he’d buried his parents. Half the year they stayed in England, and half the year they spent in Uganda. Though Thorne was still not comfortable with large groups of people, he had become an ambassador of sorts, an ambassador of the jungle, bringing awareness to its plight and the need for its protection.

And then came their daughter, who was a mystery to Thorne. A mystery as to how one so small could create so much love in his heart. That first moment he’d heard his daughter cry in the delivery room, he’d understood how Keza had come to his aid as a child when he had cried. Their daughter was so like him in her fascination with the jungle, and Thorne felt blessed to be able to show her both worlds.

A distant call from the jungle made his eyes turn to the forest. He moved quietly, carrying his child into the edge of the foliage, looking for the one who had summoned him. When he sensed the creature, he stopped and waited.

An aging female gorilla came into view, pulling leafy plants out of her way. Her reddish-brown eyes were soft and ancient as she looked upon Thorne. He watched her approach as he held his daughter carefully. The child was still and peaceful as the gorilla came toward them on knuckled hands.

Thorne reached out to greet his mother in the way of the apes, with gentle brushing knuckles over her brow, cheek, and chest. His daughter squirmed and kicked her chubby legs as she tried to reach for the gorilla. The gorilla hooted softly, a sign of interest and amusement at the baby’s reaction.

The child let out a delighted giggle and spoke a few words of child language that not even Thorne could understand. But the gorilla seemed to, and she brushed her knuckles gently over the baby’s cheek. She looked up at Thorne. Love made all things beautiful. Thorne’s heart was filled with a love so deep that for a moment he could not speak. Then finally, he spoke in the language of the wild to his mother.

“Keza, this is my daughter, Jane.”

All around them the quiet forest woke like a sleeping god after a thousand years of slumber as Keza replied, “Welcome, Jane, daughter of the jungle.”