Return My Heart: Hearts in Africa, #3

By Tessa Stockton

Lorelei moved to Kenya when she married Hugh Berrand, an animal behavioral scientist at Tsavo West National Park. After a year of marriage, she feels abandoned when she takes a backseat to her husband's first passion, the maneless lions. Rejected by the field's family of researchers, she suffers from loneliness and discord, especially when her husband is never there to support or defend her.

                                           

After Lorelei is assaulted and left for dead at Shetani, the devil's lava, she struggles to put the pieces of her existence back together; namely, the fragments of her fragile marriage. But her effort proves futile with a man who seems to prefer an independent lifestyle. When an unwanted child enters the equation, the Berrand's separate. Each tries to rebuild life from broken strands apart from each other. However, God has something else in mind and works on the hearts of Lorelei and Hugh for restoration and love anew.

 

Love, adventure, tragedy, redemption—all is at stake in the inspirational romance series, Hearts in Africa, by Tessa Stockton.

 

Complete list of titles in the HEARTS IN AFRICA inspirational romance series (although each can be read as a standalone):

• Warm My Heart (Book 1)

• Carry My Heart (Book 2)

• Return My Heart (Book 3)

• Color My Heart (Book 4)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tessa Stockton
• Release date: May 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223343684

Tessa Stockton

Tessa Stockton is a speculative fiction novelist, freelancer, and editor living in the United States. She is a former professional dancer.

Book preview

Chapter 1

~

Return to me and I will return to you.

Malachi 3:7

The paint swirled and danced as Lorelei brought life to her canvas. She dabbed the palette again, this time dipping into delightful golden amber. With broad strokes, she brushed across the reddish hues, adding deeper warmth to her subject as it developed. The savannah she loved and admired brought inspiration to her many times over. In studying the long, golden grass at sunset, she added to her painting two isolated acacias across the field from each other. The umbrella tree, as she liked to refer to it, often reminded her of God’s Tree of Life. These acacias appeared separated, lonely, and eerily out of place, but were right for this piece.

She strove to finish her work before the day’s end.

Another masterpiece.

Lorelei whirled around to see her husband poring over her, a smile hidden beneath his lips. How long have you been here? she asked.

Not long enough. Hugh Berrand briskly wrapped his arms around his wife as she turned to face the painting again. He ducked his head under her wide-brimmed sunhat with its ribbons joined under her chin, and swept a titillating kiss on her tender neck.

The gentle touch of his lips gave her goosebumps, and she shivered. She felt his arms squeeze around her. Hold me tighter, Hugh.

He did and kissed her again. What’s it called?

I don’t know yet. She inclined her head, considering possibilities.

It’s beautiful. All your paintings are.

She gazed back with a soft smile.

It makes me feel lonely, though. A bit sad. Why is that? Are you lonely, Lorelei?

Sometimes. She thought about all the days, the stretches of time that her husband remained absent. He dedicated most of his life to animal behavioral studies. Lorelei stayed behind at their home, a roomy cottage next to a lodge in the Tsavo West National Park, Kenya. While the maneless male lions of Tsavo ever lured her husband, Hugh, an ethologist, away. It saddened her that his research took precedence, but the times they did have together proved remarkable—and she tried not to dwell on the things she couldn’t control. But, I’m happy, Hugh. When we’re together, nothing makes me happier.

She reached her slender arm around his face and drew him in.

They sat on the grassy knoll until dusk enveloped them and the painting began to dry.

A breeze wisped loose strands of hair against her face, giving her an odd sense of tranquility. Lorelei huddled close to her husband. Streaming clouds littered the darkening sky, and a red-orange horizon slipped beneath the earth. She wondered how long, this time, Hugh would stay home. She sighed and rose to her feet, brushing the back of her broom skirt free of loose grass and dirt. With the shadows of the evening setting, she observed her painting once more, squinting, before reaching to dismantle it.

Let me help you with that. Hugh folded the portable easel. He then gathered the collection of paints and brushes and placed them meticulously into Lorelei’s case. She loved that about him; always thoughtful and careful to put things exactly where she liked them. His actions stumped her at times. For someone who stayed away as often as he did, he certainly was attentive to her preferences over details. Well, some details.

Lorelei gripped her art by the underlying wood frame, careful not to touch the paint of the stretched canvas, as she and Hugh made their short trek back to the lodge.

Mammoth white tents dotted the lawn surrounding the lodge filled with research equipment, data, and university students roughing it as they camped in the African wilderness, dedicated to their cause. The grass felt cool under Lorelei’s bare feet, her skirt swooshing against her ankles.

In the lodge and surrounding cottages, the research professors and veteran scientists stayed and lived. Lorelei did not know what life would be like when she first wedded Hugh and he’d brought her there from Canada one year ago. In some ways, the haunting beauty of East Africa and its people captivated her. In other ways, she felt lost and alone. She couldn’t seem to get along or fit in with most of the scientists at the field camp. And there seemed little use in confiding in Hugh about it. His mind was always on the fieldwork, even during his short stints home with her. She always wondered what ushered him away so much of the time. Many other scientists did much of their work right there at the site and so remained nearby. Hugh just couldn’t seem to get enough of his lions. Yet, it wasn’t solely work for him, Lorelei guessed. Others had told her stories of how her husband often visited the Maasai villages and learned from them. They’d witnessed Hugh, on a number of occasions, playing in the tribe’s hunting games and taking part in their festivities. The morani, the Maasai warriors, came to respect her husband; she’d heard through the grapevine, anyway. Hugh filled his life with Africa. He had little room for anything else.

Mrs. Lorelei Berrand caught herself thinking, someone like Hugh should’ve never married—and what was she doing there at all? But then when he came home and electrified her with his charm, all doubts and worries washed away.

Faces lifted to observe the two of them entering the lodge. The service staff had set out a meal for everyone in what proved a communal type of environment. Researchers and students filled long tables, although a majority of the students seemed to prefer eating out-of-doors as they relished most everything.

Tolk, the older, wiser, and more cynical scientist, addressed Lorelei with his usual style of disdain. Out painting the grass again, I see.

She attempted to skirt past him when he grabbed the edge of her painting, bringing it, and her, closer.

He lifted his pointy chin, peering over his tiny spectacles. Ah. How special, his voice pinched with sarcasm.

The remark put a cold spell over Lorelei’s heart. Her faith taught her never to hate. She prayed for this man, Tolk, and asked God to help her overcome his critical ways, which underneath the surface seemed more cruel than playful. She also knew most would disagree with her about his meanness, for the others held him in unconditional high esteem. Lorelei asked the Lord for strength, because it would be far easier to run the gamut with ugly emotions.

Letting go of her artwork with a push, Tolk balled his fists and pressed them against his legs. A quick glance downward and he swore. Now look what you’ve done. The paint had smeared from the canvas onto his fingers, staining his beige pants. In his expression lurked a fierce resentment that she’d glimpsed in him from the first day they’d met.

Lorelei bit her tongue and, with composure, in the silence of the dining room, she slipped out.

Hugh had busied himself conversing with a student on the other side of the room, too occupied to notice the interaction. Until Tolk’s voice boomed and then he’d caught her exiting from the hall.

Lorelei, wait up. He pulled her arm to slow her down in the corridor. What happened?

If you paid more attention, Hugh, she huffed. "If you were around more often, you’d know what goes on here all the time." She widened the arc of her arms with the picture frame in tow, torso bowed from the fuel of pent-up energy.

What? Did Eugene say something to you? He scratched his temple.

She rolled her eyes at him, irritated at Hugh’s amicable first name usage of Tolk, who she fought hard to like even a little. Lorelei took a deep breath in the pause of a beat, then started again towards their cottage.

You can’t take him seriously, Lore. He’s a sour old man in a vain attempt to be clever, he shrugged. If you can just accept that, his need for an audience, you’d like him better. He didn’t mean to say whatever he did.

She spun on her heels. "You never listen. He has never, ever liked me, she pointed toward the dining hall. He never will because I’m not degreed; I don’t fit his standard of value in people, that only those with higher learning matter. He thinks I’m just an unconventional hippie artist."

You are sort of an unconventional hippie artist. He managed a weak grin.

Stop playing with me. I’m serious, Hugh. I don’t belong here. I’ve met other scientists in the world, and they weren’t so arrogant. It’s this group, here... she sighed. I’ve never fit in with these guys. Ugh, she rubbed her eyes, stewing on what bothered her the most. "I’m depressed a lot of the time because I have no one to talk to—I mean, really talk to... Well, she waved her free hand, except for Eddah."

The housekeeper?

The cook. And that’s because she is a loving, open, wonderful person without preconceived judgments, and she’s... She is unspoiled by western ways of thinking. Lorelei jutted out her chin with a defiance that was on the brink of shriveling.

You sound like your mother. Or your father. Hey, be honest with me; did he desert the U.S. and flee to Canada to dodge the draft?

Leave them out of this! And don’t try to change the subject. After a labored swallow that felt like forcing a wad of cotton down her throat, she said what had pressed on her heart until it hurt. What she’d held back until now. Things have got to change, Hugh.

What do you mean? You have all the time in the world to pursue the things you love to do. Painting, beading, making jewelry, and pottery. I even allow you to go to Mombasa to sell your work.

You allow me? She watched him fluster, then brush his light brown, neck-length hair from his face in hesitant motions.

What is it that you want, Lorelei? What is it that’ll make you happier?

I want to see more of you, Hugh. I miss you. She splayed her hands. I miss us together... so much of the time. You’re always gone.

It’s my job. I have a lot to do.

Others are doing the same job, the same kind of research, and they spend loads of time here at the camp. And I have to put up with their idiotic treatment; without a husband present to support me, defend me, tell me I’m okay and that everything is okay.

"I have more to do than most of the others. It’s my research. Plus, I’m ambitious. Don’t you want me to do well?"

Of course, but I can’t seem to count on you as my big protector.

You never told me you needed a big protector. We’re just a band of misfit scientists here, Lore, not insurgents.

The silence that followed sliced the air.

Lorelei grimaced. What’s going to happen when we finally have a child, Hugh? Are you going to be here for the baby?

Yes. He paused. As much as I can, he muttered, while rubbing the back of his neck.

Lorelei sighed with a turn and marched again towards the cottage. She had had enough. Reaching for the door, she swung it open and flicked on the light. She tossed the painting, smeared on one side, against a wooden chair. She didn’t care about it now. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

She thought about where she grew up on Salt Spring Island. Although a pristine location in the Southern Gulf Islands of British Columbia, she’d often felt alone there, too. Still, she hadn’t tasted true isolation until she left her family, friends, and all who she knew, loved, and admired. They were her people. Something she realized too late, when she didn’t have them nearby anymore to appreciate.

Lorelei made a slow turn, soaking in the simple elements of the little cottage she shared with Hugh. She loved the place. And then she didn’t. In the middle of the African bush at the heart of a national park.

She was lost at Tsavo.

Hugh followed her in. Look, I promise I’ll be around more when you get pregnant and-and after we have a baby, all right?

That’s great, Hugh. Very honorable of you. She meant for her sarcasm to bite. But what about me? What am I to you, chopped liver?

No, of course not. I don’t even like chopped liver. I mean, he exhaled. Don’t turn away, please. Lorelei, listen to me. Lore, I-I love you—you know that. Can’t you tell when we’re together how much I care about you?

She fought the pools of tears threatening to find an exit from her eyes. Yes, she held her breath. I can tell, but I don’t understand why you can’t love me enough to show me more often. Why you can’t stay with me just a bit longer, she stated. It’s-it’s—it just seems that as soon as you’re back, you’re itching to leave again.

Okay, okay. Come here. He folded her into his arms.

She swallowed embarrassing peeps and sobs and wiped her tears as she hung her head over his shoulder. Do you think we’ll ever have a baby? Her voice trembled, and she tightened her throat to fight another wave of weakened emotions.

I think so. We just have to keep trying.

But it’s been a year.

We’ve only been married for a year, Lore. Some people try for a long, long time. A year isn’t all that much. Anyway, he lifted her chin, don’t you like the trying part? He gave her a roguish grin.

She blushed under his heightened gaze, even amid that moment’s consuming tension.

Samuel knocked on the frame of the open door. Hugh and Lorelei pulled their expressions away from each other to face the student. Out of breath, Samuel said, You have to come right away, Berrand. We’ve spotted two male lions that have come close to our camp. They resemble the females, he panted in a discovery-mode singsong, a bewitching tempter for Hugh that Lorelei came to loathe.

Maneless? The suppressed excitement of his tone told Lorelei that her husband would be gone in the next instant.

The student nodded. We have the nocturnal equipment ready.

Good. Um, he faced Lorelei again.

Go, she said.

Are you sure?

Just go.

He kissed her brow, took two steps away, and then spun toward her again. He squeezed her arms and gave her a deeper kiss, covering her mouth with his. Until later, he brushed them again. Wait for me.

Of course. She didn’t bother watching him go out the door or leave the camp with his small entourage.

She swept past the large canopy bed. The sheer material waved at her passing. Lorelei grasped the silver urn and poured tepid water into the ivory basin mounted on the wooden counter. She washed her hands, her face, and then patted dry with the hand towel found within arm’s reach. Lorelei stood with the notion that she should feel refreshed, yet heaviness still hung over her spirit. For a moment, she got lost in thought. Shaking her head of familiar, damaging notions—as if that would clear them, all the depressing thoughts away—she exited the cottage.

Lorelei made her way to the kitchen where the housekeepers and groundskeepers ate and often lingered on their breaks socializing. The ceiling-fan blades whirled at a steady hum-hum-hum.

Only one person remained in the kitchen: her friend, Eddah.

There you are. The jovial woman, who Lorelei grew to love, wiped her hands on the apron that clung to her ample body. She returned Lorelei’s amicable kiss of greeting on the cheek.

Lorelei managed a weak smile. She slid a chair out from under the table and sank into its hard frame.

Eddah pulled Lorelei’s waist-length hair