Always, in December(107)

Valerie shook her head, stepped up to Josie and took both her hands in hers. “Our loss,” she said firmly, with the hint of an American accent. “If you’re Max’s girl, then it’s our loss.”

Josie nodded, and felt the tears, never far away, start up again.

She talked to Max’s parents for as long as they all could bear, and promised to stay in touch. Chloe hovered for a moment longer when Roger and Valerie left, ready to accept more condolences from friends and family. “So,” she said. “How’s the photography?”

    “Oh.” Josie lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “All right, I guess. I did a course.” It felt wrong to be talking about something normal, something mundane, in the face of what had happened.

Chloe angled her head, the action almost birdlike. “I know. Max told me.”

That made Josie smile, just a little. “He did?”

She nodded. “He also told me about Botswana. Geoffrey,” she added at Josie’s questioning look. “My brother was good at getting information out of people.” The smile on her face shook, but held. Someone called Chloe’s name—a tall, muscular man with deeply tanned skin—and Chloe nodded over her shoulder. “I have to go and do the rounds, so to speak.” She blew out a breath, shook her head, and tears glistened in her brown eyes. “Sorry,” she breathed, and Josie shook her head.

“I’ll let you go,” Josie murmured, noticing Bia already on her way over, like she’d noticed that Josie was about to be left alone. Like she knew that she’d break if she was.

Chloe grabbed her hand before Josie could leave. “What I meant to say is, and I don’t know if this will make it better or worse, but he hoped you’d take it.”

Josie frowned. “What?”

“Botswana,” Chloe said. “He hoped you’d take the job there.” She paused, then smiled, her gaze going distant for a moment. When she looked back at Josie, her eyes were brighter. “He thought it might make you realize how much you shine.”





Part Six


   December Again





Josie sat on the sand around the fire, her knees to her chest and arms around her legs. The fire was sparking as it heated up, getting ready to barbecue—or brai, as they called it here—the boerewors. To her right, Charlotte was chatting to one of the rangers, and on her other side the two helicopter pilots were laughing at something on one of their phones. For a moment, though, she was content just to sit, to let the sounds of the people around her mix in with the sounds of the night birds beginning to stir, as she watched the African sun set. The colors were incredible here, glowing orange that seemed like it was scorching the sky, fading to pink like it was being slowly extinguished. They’d picked a point tonight, for their Christmas brai, higher up than usual—though still in the safety of the park where no curious leopards could wander in—so they could watch it right until the last moment.

She took a sip of her ice-cold Savanna, allowed it to slide down her throat, grateful for the relief it brought after the intense heat of the day. Charlotte caught her eye and smiled, cocking her head as if to check Josie was OK. Josie smiled and nodded, and Charlotte went back to her conversation.

    Josie stretched out her arms behind her. She was browner, slimmer, and fitter than she’d been last year, but despite that it was hard to believe she’d been in Botswana for nearly a year now. Bia and Laura had both been out to visit her, and Helen kept threatening to do so. Josie had been worried about leaving Memo so soon after heart surgery, but after a three-month recovery, Memo had proven her determination and, by all accounts, was pretty much back to normal. The internship was nearing an end, but she had another month to figure out the next step, and she wasn’t worried. She’d found what she loved doing—even though she still had to pinch herself that she was doing it here, of all places—and she knew she’d find something similar, in time. She’d started to put the feelers out, and she knew Charlotte would give her a good reference. But some of the best things, as she knew first-hand, came from the gaps in life, so if she ended up with nothing for a few months then it wasn’t the end of the world.

One of the helipilots moved away from the group, calling his goodbyes, and Josie set her Savanna down, then got to her feet and jogged to catch up with him, her T-shirt sticking to her back with sweat. “Off to the airport?” she asked.

“Yeah, some guests coming in and I’ve got to pick up some supplies.”

She linked her arm through his, walked alongside him. “Can I ask you a favor?”

He grinned. “Anything for you, gorgeous.”

    “Can you put some letters in the post for me over there?”

He nodded, held his hand out for the two letters she slipped out of her shorts pocket. They were a little crinkled, but she didn’t think the recipients would mind, given the circumstances. He frowned as she handed them over. “You’ve forgotten the addresses, Jo.” She didn’t know why, but everyone here insisted on shortening her name as much as possible.

“I know. They don’t need them.” She shook her head when he raised his eyebrows. “Don’t ask.”

“All right then.” And he set off, heading toward his helicopter and back to civilization for a few hours. She smiled a little to herself, standing still for a minute to look out at the setting sun. Who would have thought that this would be how she was fulfilling her Christmas tradition this year? With one difference now, of course—two letters in place of one, three people forever in her heart instead of two.