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“I don’t know Luke that well, but he doesn’t seem like a bed-hopper to me. Nor does Dev. What do you think?”
“I think you’re right,” Willow said. She saw a fish leap out of the water no more than twenty feet from their boat. “Dev has, well, a tough family history, and she learned at a very early age to be scared and completely distrustful of men.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s a really nice person, a hard worker, and she cares,” Shep replied.
“Yes, she’s loyal, and she’s a great worker bee. I can’t see myself with any other co-pilot while I’m here in Ethiopia, to tell you the truth. We get along really well together. I love her dry sense of humor. It gets very dark at times, but she was in the Air Force, just like me and piloted C-130 transports. You know how military people defer to black humor when things go wrong.”
“Do I ever. Saves the day every time. So? Has Dev said anything?”
“Nothing about Luke, no. We’ve been so busy this past month, Shep, that I honestly haven’t had time to even sit down and have a coffee or chat with Dev. Just work talk.”
“You could have today.”
She met his gaze. “I chose to be with you, instead.” She saw his expression go soft for a moment, knowing her words had truly touched his heart. “And I’m glad I did.”
“It’s nice to be at the top of your list.”
She heard the deeply veiled emotion in his voice, taking note of it for later. Pointing ahead, she said, “There’s our landing spot. See that beach that’s curved in an egg-shaped harbor?” Her stomach was tight with tension. She wasn’t sure where their conversation would range or what Shep’s reactions would be to her purposely trying to probe him more deeply on a personal level.
“Yeah, I see it.”
“I’m taking you to one of mine and Dev’s favorite spots. We do a lot of deep, serious talking there. It’s quiet, beautiful and the birds aren’t afraid to be around you. I think you’ll like it, Shep.” She knew he always loved being out in nature. That was one of many things they shared and enjoyed. Also, he loved architecture as well.
Shep maneuvered the boat into the oval cove. As they got closer, he could see several shorebirds with long legs and curved beaks dipping into the shallows for critters in the mud. They all flew away as the prow hit the beach.
Willow quickly hopped out; her feet bare as they sank up to their ankles in the black mud. She pulled the rope from the prow, leaping to the beach and turning, hauling the boat up further so it couldn’t drift away. She gestured for Shep to come ashore. She enjoyed his athletic build as he moved; how lean and tight he was, that t-shirt outlining his well-sprung chest and those broad shoulders of his. Once on shore, he took the line as well and they both hauled the boat halfway onto shore, guaranteeing it wouldn’t float away.
“Great,” she murmured, going back to the boat. In the front, she had packed a small ice cooler that held their food. Shep leaned over the opposite side, pulling both their backpacks out. Willow found a dry log further up the beach, brought her socks and boots with her, sat down on it and pulled them on. In minutes, they had made their way up a path that shaded them as they moved up the slight slope into the lush greenery. Willow had worn her khaki cargo pants and a pink sleeveless tee beneath her long-sleeved white cotton shirt. She could shed it when it got warmer or in a less shaded area.
Taking her knapsack, she shrugged it on. “There’s several hiking trails and this is a pretty popular spot. A lot of birders from all over the world come here and spend a day or more spotting and putting another bird or two on their lists.”
Turning, Shep saw a flock of pink flamingos landing further down the curved beach. “Those are beautiful,” he said, pointing.
“Yes, those are called Lesser Flamingos. See those bright-red feathers on their wings?”
Squinting from the distance, Shep nodded. “Yes. Red against the pink of their feathers.”
“The bigger flamingos don’t have those bright-red striped feathers. This bird is pretty rare around here. I was talking with the city biologist about it when she was out in this area, and she said that these beautiful birds are a threatened species here in Ethiopia. She said these birds winter over here at Lake Tana, so we’re lucky to see them at all.”
Impressed, he walked up to her, strapping on his knapsack. “I didn’t know you were so interested in birds.”
Her lips pulled away from her teeth. “Hey, it flies. Anything that flies gets my attention, Porter. Are you ready for a beautiful hike?”
“Yep, lead the way, Dr. Livingston,” and he shared a warm smile with her.
“There’s a gorgeous spot for lunch, but it’s about a mile one way. It’s worth it. Are you game?”
“Always,” he said, gesturing for her to take the lead on the narrow path.
Willow felt happiness flood her heart because, once more, they were in that cradle of good friendship, exploring and sharing the adventure they’d always had with one another. She saw it in the lighter color of Shep’s blue eyes and forced herself not to stare at that strong, male mouth of his. Memories of him loving her were just too overwhelming and luring her to a place she didn’t dare go.
Shep marveled at the beauty of Lake Tana. Willow was a fount of local information about it. Lake Tana was the largest body of water in Ethiopia and was forty-three feet deep at its deepest point. She went on to tell him that, in most places, it was only around eight feet deep. It was forty-two miles wide and forty-five miles long. On a map, it looked almost pear-shaped to him. As lakes went, he thought this was a very shallow one. Its great notoriety was that it was the source of the Blue Nile, which was the only water course flowing out of it. Fishing here was a huge industry that supplied fresh fish to the northern part of the country. The lake remained full due to the seven permanent rivers that fed it year-round, and forty other seasonal rivers added to its water volume. Around the lake, agriculture flourished. There were many fig orchards, which thrived in the heat and fertile soil. More than once, at certain stops along their trek where they could look down on the lake, he would see reed boats plied by local fisherman. Willow explained that Tana had extensive papyrus reed beds from which the ‘tankwa’ boats were made.
They walked up the large swell of the hill, ancient terraces built all around this side of it, its crest covered with a crown of verdant trees. His skin was damp already from the slight climb, the sun rising higher, drawing humidity from the lake below and sending it creeping up the slopes.
“These terraces,” she said, gesturing below them, “were created thousands of years ago by these people. At that time, the lake was much larger, and made terrace farming the way to go.”
Shep studied the yellowed winter grass. “From an engineering standpoint, they did a good job putting rocks on the edge of each terrace they built, holding in the soil and giving plants a place to take hold.”
