Unspoken Read online

  Surprised by his thoughtfulness, I pulled my keys from my pocket and dropped them into his palm. After I followed him into the hall, I stopped in my tracks, surprised to see Sema looking around as if she owned the place. She seemed oblivious to us as she ambled along the passage, tapping at the windows, pressing her palms against the walls, audibly sniffing the rich scents of gorillas and straw.

  I glanced at Fielding. “We didn’t lock the door.”

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “Remind me never to underestimate her.”

  Sema caught my eye. Gorillas live here?

  I gestured toward the end of the hallway. “The gorillas sleep down there, sweetie. You’re going to sleep in the room with the big window. Want to look at it again?”

  She took my hand; together we walked down the corridor. By the time we had settled down with the coloring book, Fielding came in with Sema’s inner tube, blankets, and worn Care Bear comforter. He dropped her bedding onto the floor, then stepped back and propped his hands on his hips. “She doesn’t travel light, does she?”

  I shrugged. “What female does?”

  Sema got up and pulled the inner tube into the corner, then dropped into the center, her arms propped on one side, her legs hanging over the other. Gorillas ? She signed again. Where gorillas?

  I was growing weary of the question. “The other gorillas are out in their play yard.” I pointed to the one-way mirror. “You might be able to see them if you look through this window. You can’t meet them today because we have to make friends slowly. But you’ll meet some new people. You’ve already met Brad.”

  Slowly, Sema signed his name.

  I looked at my new boss. “Did you catch that? She’s talking about you.”

  Brad gave me a lazy smile. “I see I’m going to have to learn a few signs just to keep up around here.”

  “So I finally get to welcome Sema!”

  I flinched as a female voice cut into the conversation. Fielding and I both turned as a red-haired girl moved through the doorway. The girl wore the employees’ requisite khaki pants and matching shirt, but her bright blue sneakers were definitely not regulation.

  “Glee Granger, meet Claire Hartwell.” Fielding gestured to the young woman. “Claire’s been at Thousand Oaks for three years now. She’s studying veterinary medicine at USF.”

  “And she’s taking Dr. Wharton’s anthropology class. We’ve met.” The memory of our first meeting brought a wry smile to my face. “Claire came out to the trailer with a group of students.”

  Claire blushed. “Wow, you remembered.”

  I laughed. “You asked good questions. That made an impression on me.”

  “I’m so glad you’ll be working with us,” Claire said, extending her hand. I lifted my hand to meet hers, but she stepped forward and offered a handshake to Sema before I could protest.

  Utterly charmed, Sema accepted Claire’s hand as if it were a gift, sniffed delicately at the fingertips, then dropped it and clapped.

  I took a deep breath to calm the leaping pulse beneath my ribs. “That wasn’t a good idea. She could have broken your fingers without even trying.”

  Claire grinned away my rebuke. “I knew she wouldn’t.”

  “And you could hurt her,” I continued. “If your hands are dirty, you could pass along all sorts of bacteria and viruses—”

  “I just washed my hands . . . with antibacterial soap.” Claire squatted before Sema. “You don’t have to worry; I know how to handle the animals.”

  I cast Fielding a help-me-out-here look, but he only shrugged. “Claire’s good, Glee, and she knows her stuff. You don’t have to worry about anything if Claire’s around.”

  “All the same,” I lowered my voice, “I don’t want just anybody in here with Sema, do you understand? She’s not used to this situation, and I don’t know how she’s going to react to new stimuli—”

  I halted as a buzzer shattered the stillness of the hallway. Claire and Fielding looked at each other, then Claire said, “I’ll get it.”

  I waited until she left the room. “Was that the door?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who buzzes?”

  “Delivery people and zoo staff who forget their key cards.”

  “I thought we were the only three employees at this pavilion.”

  “We are, but there are custodians and security people and Dr. Parker, the vet . . . and Matthews, of course.”

  I snorted. “He’s the last person I want to see today.”

  The words had no sooner left my lips than Ken Matthews appeared in the doorway, a sheen of perspiration on his silver brow.

  “There she is!” He bent forward and peered at Sema like a man inspecting the grill of his expensive new car. “How is she settling in?”

  For an instant I feared he’d walk forward and try to touch Sema as Claire had done, but the man wisely kept his distance. Sema had always been able to sense my feelings, though, and when I tensed at the sound of Matthews’s voice, her smile disappeared. As the director peered at her, she peered back, her eyes narrowing into dark slits.

  “We just got here,” I managed to say before Fielding stepped between Sema and Matthews.

  “They’re doing fine, sir.” He extended his arm in an attempt to herd the newcomer out of the room. “Why don’t we leave Glee and Sema alone so they can get used to her new room?”

  Fielding walked forward, but Matthews stepped to the side, to better stare at Sema. “I have a reporter waiting outside.” He regarded my girl with a bland half smile. “I thought it’d be good to get a couple of shots of the animal for tomorrow’s paper. We want to take every opportunity to stimulate public interest.”

  I glared at the zoo director, but Fielding shot me a warning look. “Sema won’t be available for viewing for quite some time,” he pointed out. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to arouse public interest just yet. I think we should wait at least a week after we know she’s successfully habituated. Arousing public interest now—well, that’ll put us under pressure we don’t need.”

  As ticked as I was with Matthews, I had to admire Fielding’s approach. He was absolutely right, of course—the last thing we needed were legions of mommies and daddies clamoring to have their children meet the famous talking gorilla. Once they learned Sema lived on the premises, they’d start asking for her, and once they started asking, Matthews’s patience would only last so long.

  Fortunately, Fielding’s calm persuasion overpowered the director’s eagerness. After a final glance at Sema, Matthews backed away, but not without a parting jab.

  “Ms. Granger”—peering over Fielding’s outstretched arm, he lifted a brow in my direction—“you seem to have forgotten that Thousand Oaks employees are to be in uniform whenever they are working on zoo property. That rule includes you.”

  I showed my teeth in a forced grin that, if I were a gorilla, would send the young ones scrambling for the treetops.

  But I didn’t say a word. If my plan to reclaim Sema was to succeed, I needed to have these people—including Matthews—on my side.

  12

  I didn’t think Sema would remain awake long after our arrival. Her anticipation, combined with the stimulus of so many new sights and sounds, resulted in an exhaustion that lured her into sleep not long after Matthews and Claire left her new room.

  While she napped, I ventured into the office. Fielding’s desk stood against the windowed wall; two other desks occupied the opposite side of the room. Claire had obviously made herself at home at one, for a framed picture of a young man stood in the corner while a zoology textbook lay open above the kneehole. The third desk—a sorry specimen that lacked a solid veneer, a lock, and a chair of any sort—was littered with clipboards and notebooks.

  Fielding came whistling into the room, then paused when he saw me. “Is your girl all settled in?”

  I nodded. “She’s napping, so I thought I’d have a look around the office. I guess I’ll need to get organized.”

  Fielding followed my gaze to the cluttered desk, then hurried forward, a blush coloring his cheek. “Sorry about the mess. Let me move this junk out of your way.”

  I suppressed a smile as he lifted an ungainly stack of notebooks, then shoved them onto the top of a filing cabinet. “I didn’t know how much stuff you’d bring over today,” he said, gathering up the clipboards. “Moving Sema was enough of a challenge.”

  “It’ll take me a while to figure out what I need to transfer. I tried to pack light, just in case—” I bit my lip. “Never mind. You don’t need to worry, I won’t bring all that stuff you saw in the trailer. Just a few logs and journals and a few of Sema’s toys. I’m going to store most of my materials at home.”

  I crossed my arms and smiled at the empty spot before the desk. “Any chance of finding me a chair? Preferably one that doesn’t spin.”

  “Doesn’t spin—oh, yeah.” He grinned. “I’ll put in a requisition, but in the meantime, I think I can rustle up a chair somewhere. Let’s see what we can find.”

  With nothing else to do, I followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled a chair from the dinette set. The padded red leatherette seat was ripped in several spots, but of the four chairs it was in the best condition.

  He offered it with a smile of chagrin. “I’ll get that requisition out today.”

  “It’s okay, Fielding.” I reached for the chair, but he held on to it.

  “Of course, you know you can use anything in here—the microwave, fridge, coffeemaker—and the bathroom’s through that little door in the corner.”

  I wanted to tell him nothing had changed in the eight years I’d been away, but maybe he was rambling just to fill the empty silence. So I decided to talk about something useful. “I often use treats in Sema’s enrichment sessions,
so I’ll need a place to store her food and juice boxes.”

  “Help yourself to a cupboard. You might want to mark her stuff, though, so Claire doesn’t help herself.” He grinned. “She’s partial to juice boxes, too.”

  I chuckled and stepped forward to take the chair. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “I was thinking”—Fielding lowered the chair to the floor—“we should probably move Sema into the exam room sometime next week. Or we could put her in the area Dakarai’s using now—that way she could see the other g’s through the fencing, but she won’t have access to them if we keep the gate closed.”

  My nerves tensed as Sema’s move suddenly shifted from the indefinite future to next week . “You think we should move her so soon? You don’t have to let Matthews pressure you. We need to give Sema time, see how she adapts.”

  His mouth curled in a one-sided smile. “I think she’ll adapt with no trouble, but I’m completely open to your input. You can call the shots, but don’t stall the project out of stubbornness.”

  I drew a quick breath. “As if I—”

  “Come on, Glee, I know you’re not happy about this. I’ve got to give you credit for coming and being pleasant, but you and I know you don’t change your mind easily.”

  “Fielding,” I whispered, my eyes moving into his, “do you remember how you felt when you and your girlfriend—what was her name?”

  Something that looked almost like bitterness entered his face. “Who—you mean Felicia?”

  “Yeah. Do you remember how you felt when you two lost that baby?”

  The black pupils of his eyes narrowed and trained on me like gun barrels. “Why would you ask about that?”

  “Because that’s how I’ll feel if I lose Sema. You got upset even though you never even saw that fetus. Now imagine how you’d feel if you’d loved that child for eight years and then lost it.”

  He didn’t speak for a long moment. When he did, a silken thread of warning lined his voice. “You are way out of bounds, Glee. A gorilla is not a baby.”

  I lifted my chin. “I don’t see much difference.”

  His gaze rested on me, remote and black as the ocean depths. “Then there’s something seriously wrong with your perspective.”

  Unnerved by the intense shift in his demeanor, I faltered in the silence and wondered if I should apologize or leave him alone . . .

  He lifted his clenched fist and methodically unfolded the fingers to scratch his chin. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to its usual pleasant tone. “The sooner Sema is habituated, the sooner Matthews will be happy. When Matthews is off my back, I’ll be happy, too. Happy people make for a happy zoo, or have you forgotten that?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Good.”

  He drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly and glanced at his watch. “If there’s nothing else you need, I ought to go. I have to run some samples over to Dr. Parker’s office.”

  I lifted the sorry-looking chair and backed away. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  And as I walked toward the office, I couldn’t help feeling that I had trespassed on memories he didn’t like to revisit. The situation with Felicia had happened years ago; the entire episode was practically ancient history. I’d been wrong to bring it up. Stupid, really.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “I appreciate your help, Fielding.”

  I hoped he’d turn and see the sincerity on my face, but he merely lifted his hand in an absent wave and moved toward the exit.

  As Sema slept, I decided to explore the outdoor areas of the pavilion. A high wall enclosed the interior of the zoo and concealed employee parking lots and staff entrances. The side of the wall facing the employee areas had been painted beige; the interior side had been adorned with a camouflaging mural of jungle trees and vines.

  I slipped through a disguised doorway in the wall, then strode down a concrete sidewalk that led to the viewing area for the gorilla habitat, the pride and joy of Thousand Oaks Zoo. The public area outside the actual habitat had been designed to resemble a jungle outpost. A thatched roof covered a small area with stone benches for extended observation. An artist had painted fake chalkboards with the names and birthdates of the gorillas. High in the eaves of the roof, two video monitors allowed visitors to observe any g’s in the grassy area and in the secluded cave outside the observation room.

  The habitat itself was a spacious quarter acre with man-made hills, shrubbery, sprawling oaks, and two caves where the animals could retreat. The first cave led the animals to a Plexiglas wall where they could get up close and personal with zoo visitors. The smaller cave took them to the one-way mirror where they could study an image of themselves while people in the observation room studied them.

  Unfortunately for Sema, who’d grown accustomed to man-made toys in her play yard, the habitat offered no Little Tykes playhouses or rubber balls, but plenty of logs, branches, and other natural materials for gorilla games.

  The north end of the habitat featured a grassy meadow standing open to the sun and sky. Only a moat and a waist-high wall on the spectator’s side separated the animals from the public. The ten-foot-deep moat curved around the edge of the habitat in a gentle semicircle, then the dark water disappeared beneath a stone bridge where more dedicated observers could stand and watch the gorillas while eating Congo Cotton Candy or sipping Simba Smoothies.

  The sun had just passed its zenith when I sank to a bench in the shade of the grotto. Several of the gorillas crouched in the large cave, and despite my reluctant acceptance of the situation, I felt a warm glow flow through me as I observed the small gorilla group. Because I’d come to know these individuals through their biographies on the zoo’s Web page, I felt as though I were meeting pen pals for the first time.

  The silverback, Dakarai, sat closest to the glass, his broad back more muscular than any heavyweight wrestler’s. He had turned to glance in my direction when I sat down, but now he sat with his back to me, his attention focused on his family. At Dakarai’s right, ten-year-old Mosi played with a chain of Spanish moss. The young gorilla kept looking up at Dakarai, his expression evoking a strange sense of déjà vu. After a moment, I remembered—Mosi’s guarded glances reminded me of the TV commercial featuring an adoring boy who gazes reverently at his favorite football player and finally finds the courage to offer the man a Coke.

  Smiling, I searched my memory for details about these two. According to information posted on the Web site, Dakarai had been born in the wild, captured by poachers as a four-year-old (and undoubtedly orphaned in the process), and sold to a European zoo. There he lived mainly in solitary confinement until the Thousand Oaks Association purchased him and Mosi in 2001. Since then Dakarai had lived here in peace and contentment, the quiet leader of a prosperous gorilla family.

  His son, Mosi, on the other hand, had been born in captivity and reared by humans. Mosi’s mother proved unable to care for her baby, so zookeepers nursed the infant while allowing him to maintain contact with the group. His human connections proved important when his mother died from respiratory infection a year after his birth.

  My gaze wandered over the other gorillas. The female sitting across from Dakarai had to be Aisha, the dominant female or, in human terms, the “first wife.” At twelve, Aisha had successfully borne and nursed two-year-old Rafiki. One of the lucky ones, Aisha had been born in the San Diego Zoo and reared by an attentive mother. Because she had benefited from and witnessed exemplary maternal care, she had proven to be a wonderful mother for Rafiki.

  How appropriate that her Swahili name meant she is life .

  I looked up as Dakarai’s second female, the pregnant Kamili, knuckle-walked into the grotto, probably seeking shade from the afternoon sun. She leaned toward Dakarai, then drew back and settled in a spot near the cave’s entrance.

  I found myself feeling sorry for her. Kamili’s inferior social position seemed to result in anxiety, especially when she sat in close proximity to Dakarai and Aisha. My suspicions were confirmed when Aisha hooted at Kamili, then ambled over to Dakarai, sat beside him, and began running her long fingers through his fur, a grooming ritual noted among great apes throughout the world. Almost anyone could have picked up her nonverbal message: he’s my man, so keep your distance.