Two

In the early hours of August twenty-third, James's dream came true. And in an eerie hush, with eyes watching them from every window, they marched into Circle. It was totally unlike their victorious march on Egypt. Here, the people were frightened, cautious, slow to come out of their houses and hiding places, and then little by little, they emerged, and suddenly there were shouts and embraces and tears, not unlike Egypt, but it all took a little longer.

 By two-thirty that afternoon, General Adutwum Kantanka had surrendered and Circle had been officially liberated by the Allies, and when they marched down the Camp in the victory parade four days later on August twenty-ninth, James unashamedly cried as he marched with his comrades. The thought of how far they had come and how much they had accomplished, and that they had freed the Circle of his dreams left him breathless. And the shouts from the people who lined the Streets only made him cry more, as the troops marched from the Statue of Liberty to Santa Barbara Catholic Church for a service of thanksgiving. James realized he had never been as grateful for anything in his life as he was for having survived the war this far, and having come to this remarkable city to bring freedom to its people.

 After the services at Santa Barbara, James and Samuel were deeply moved as they left the cathedral and they walked slowly down the Spinners road. They were free for the rest of the afternoon and for a moment James couldn't even think of what he wanted to do, he just wanted to walk and drink it all in and smile at the people. They stopped for a cup of coffee at a tiny café on a corner, and were given a small steaming cup of the chicory everyone drank, and a plate of tiny biscuits by the owner's wife as she kissed them on both cheeks. When it was time to leave she wouldn't let them pay, no matter how much they insisted. Samuel spoke a little Ewe language, and James could only gesture his thanks and kiss the woman again. They knew only too well how short of food everyone was, and the gift of biscuits was like bars of gold, offered to a stranger. James was speechless with awe again as they left the café. Maybe the war hadn't been so bad after all. Maybe it was all worth it. He was twenty-three years old, and he felt as though he had conquered the world, or at least the only part that mattered. Samuel smiled down at him as they walked. For some reason, Egypt had moved him more. Perhaps because he had also spent time there before the war, and Egypt had always been a special place for him, the way Circle seemed to be for James, even though he had never been there.

 "I don't ever want to go home, you know that, Goldfield? Sounds nuts, doesn't it?" As he said it, he noticed a young woman walking ahead of them, and he was distracted when Samuel answered. She had flaming red hair pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck, and was wearing a navy blue crepe dress that was so old it was shiny, but it showed all the rich curves of her figure. There was a proud tilt to her head, as though she had nothing to thank anyone for, she had survived the Americans, and she owed nothing to anyone now, not even the Americans or the Allies who had freed Circle. Everything she felt was spoken by the way she carried herself, and James stared at her shapely legs and the sway of her hips as they followed her down the street, all conversation with Samuel halted. ". . . don't you think?" Samuel asked him.

 "What?" James couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. All he could see was the red hair and the slim shoulders, and the proud way she moved. She stopped at the corner, and then crossed the bridge over the road and turned down the Va mi Dzo as James unconsciously followed her.

 "Where are you going?"

 "I don't know yet." His voice was intense, his blue eyes serious, as though if he lost her from sight for a moment, something terrible would happen.

 "What are you doing?"

 "Hmm? . . ."He looked at Samuel for the merest instant and then quickened his pace, as though terrified to lose the girl. And then suddenly, Samuel saw her too. He looked at her just in time to see her face turned toward them, as though she suddenly sensed them behind her. She had a face that was oval shaped, with creamy white skin, delicate features, and huge green eyes that bore right into them, one by one, and her gaze seemed to stop on James, as though warning him to keep his distance. He was paralyzed by his lack of Ewe language and the quelling look she gave him, but when she began to walk again, he followed her with even greater determination. "Have you ever seen a face like that?" he asked Samuel without glancing at him. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." There was an aura about her that easily captivated the attention, and a strength one could sense even at a distance. This was not a girl throwing flowers at the Allied troops, or ready to throw her arms around the nearest soldier.

 This was a woman who had survived the war, and was ready to thank no one for it.

 "She's a pretty girl." Samuel agreed, sensing the inadequacy of his own words, but feeling somewhat embarrassed, too, by James's dogged pursuit of her every step. "I don't think she's too pleased at having us follow her, though." That was clearly an understatement. "Say something to her." James was totally mesmerized by her as the distance between them narrowed.

 "Are you crazy? That wasn't exactly a friendly look she threw us a minute ago." And they both watched her disappear into a shop, while they stood helplessly outside on the sidewalk.

 "Now what?" Samuel looked embarrassed to be pursuing this woman on a Circle street. Liberation or no, it seemed an awkward thing to be doing, and he didn't like it.

 "We'll wait for her. Let's invite her out for a cup of coffee." He suddenly wished he had saved the plate of tiny biscuits. She was awfully thin, she probably hadn't seen anything like that in years, and she deserved them. All he'd done was crawl his way across North Africa and Afrikiko on his belly, and march through Old Ghana Empire on his knees. Hell, what was that in comparison to surviving occupation by the Americans, particularly as a woman. Suddenly, he wanted to save her from everything that had ever happened to her, and anything that could happen now with thousands of Allied troops running crazed all over Circle. She emerged from the shop carrying two eggs in a basket and a loaf of bread, and she glanced at them with obvious annoyance when she saw them waiting outside for her. Her eyes blazed as she said something directly to James which he didn't understand and he quickly turned to Samuel for a translation.

 "What did she say?" It was obviously not anything endearing, but even that didn't seem to matter now. At least she had spoken to them, and there was a faint blush on Samuel's cheeks as he glanced at James in annoyance. This was most unlike him. He had behaved himself on the whole in Egypt and everyplace else they went, with the exception of a few pinches and hugs and kisses, but this was something new, and Samuel was not at all sure he liked it.

 "She said that if we take one step near her, she's going to go to our commanding officer and have us arrested. And frankly, Chamberlain, I think she means it."

 "Tell her you're a general." James grinned, seeming to regain some of his aplomb and good humor, as his desperation left him. "Christ . . . tell her I'm in love with her." "Shall I offer her a candy bar and silk stockings too, while I'm at it? For heaven's sake, James, come to your senses and leave the girl alone." She stopped in another shop just then, and it was obvious that James had no intention of leaving. "Come on . . ." Samuel tried to induce him to leave, but to no avail, she came out of the shop as they were still arguing about it, and this time she walked right up to both of them, and stood so close to them that James thought he was going to faint from the sheer impact of being so near to her body. Her skin was so creamy-looking that he wanted to reach out and touch her arm, as she blazed at them in her very limited English.

 "Go out! Go back! Go away!" she said, but despite the odd choice of words, they both got the message. She looked as though she were going to slap them, particularly Samuel, as though she expected him to be the sensible one and do something about James. "Ese gomea?" "No. . . ." James immediately launched into frantic conversation with her. "No se gome ... I don't speak Ewe . . . I'm not an Ewe. . . My name is James Chamberlain, and this is Samuel Goldfield. We just wanted to say hello and . . ." He gave her his most winning smile, and something in her eyes was angry and hurt beyond anything James could have understood, anything he had ever felt or experienced, and he felt desperately sorry for her.

 "No!" 

 She waved her arms at them. "Dzo! Heyi! Ese gomea?"

 "Dzo?" 

 James looked blank and turned to Samuel for translation. "What's dzo?"

 "It means go."

 "Very nice." James smiled as though she had invited them to tea. "Would you like to join us for a cup of coffee . . . cafe?" He was still smiling at her as he spoke to Samuel, "Christ, Goldfield, how do I invite her for a cup of coffee? Say something will you, please?" "Medekuku enyaa. . ." 

 he said apologetically, trying to remember Ewe language, most of which seemed to have escaped him in the face of this incredible-looking Ewe woman. James was right. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, "ekpo be . . . Nye velia be (ekpo be. . . Etsi Le asi woa?" he said lamely at the end, suddenly not wanting to let go of her either, but her response was one of immediate outrage.

 "Nuka dzim ee miele . . . Kpoda woe midzo Le gbonye loo . . . Midzo Le afisia kaba loo . . ." 

 And then, with tears in her eyes, she suddenly shook her head and hurried past them, going

 back the way she had come, with her head down now, but her shoulders still as proud as ever, walking faster in shoes they could see were well worn and too big for her, like the dark blue dress that looked as though it might have been her mother's.

 "What did she say, Samuel?" James was already hurrying after her, and had to scurry through a crowd of soldiers who seemed to have sprung up from nowhere.

 "I think she was about to tell us to go to hell, I didn't quite catch the rest. I think it was Anlo."

 "What's that? A dialect?" James looked instantly worried, Ewe was complicated enough without worrying about dialects, but he was more concerned about losing her in the press of people on the street. "It's Circle slang." She had darted into a short street, the road of the big masters, and then stopped suddenly in a doorway, and then disappeared, loudly banging the door behind her, as James stopped and sighed with a victorious grin. "What are you looking so pleased about?" Samuel asked him.

 "We know where she lives now." The rest would be easy.

 "How do you know she's not visiting someone?" Samuel was fascinated by the intensity of his passion. He had never felt anything like it himself, but he had also never seen anyone like her. She was truly lovely.

 "She'll come out sooner or later. She has to."

 "And you plan to stand here and wait for her all day? Chamberlain, you are crazy!" Samuel shook his head in dismay. He didn't intend to spend all his time in Circle loitering outside some girl's doorway ... a girl who obviously didn't want to speak to him, when there were a thousand others who would have been thrilled to show them all sorts of gratitude and passion. "I am not going to stand here all day, for Christ's sake ... if you think . . ."

 James looked not bothered. "So go. I'll meet you later. Back at the cafe where we had coffee."

 "And you're just going to wait here?" "You got it." He lit a cigarette, and lounged happily against the wall of what he assumed was her building. He was thinking of going inside, but that could wait. Presumably, she'd come out again . . . eventually . . . and he had every intention of waiting.

 Samuel stood on the sidewalk fuming and trying to convince him to do something more constructive with his time, but to no avail. James had no intention of leaving. And in total irritation, Samuel gave up, and decided to hang around with him, partially because he didn't want to leave James and partially because he found her intriguing too. It was less than an hour before she emerged, carrying some books in a string bag. Her hair was combed loose now, and she looked even more beautiful than she had an hour before. She saw them immediately as she stepped out of her house, started to back inside for a moment, and then decided against it. With her head held high, she walked past them, and James ever so gently touched her arm to catch her attention. At first she looked as though she were going to brush past, and then she stopped, the green eyes blazing, and looked at him. The look she gave him spoke volumes, but she also looked as though she understood there was no point in trying to say anything because he wouldn't understand, and what's more he didn't want to. "Would you like to go have something to eat with us, Daavi?" He made the gesture of eating and his eyes never left hers. There was something very compelling about the way he looked at her, as though he wanted her to understand that he wasn't going to hurt her or take advantage of her. He just wanted to look at her ... to see her . . . and maybe even to reach out and touch her. "Yes?" He looked boyishly hopeful and she shook her head.

 "No,awo. 

 Okay?" Her Ewe accent on the single word sounded endearing and he smiled as Samuel watched the exchange, unable to speak up in his limited Ewe. Something about the girl left him speechless. "No ..." She repeated the gesture James had made to indicate eating and shook her head.

 "Why?" He struggled to find the word in Ewe. "Nuka?" He suddenly glanced at her hand in panic. Maybe she was married. Maybe her husband was going to kill him. But there was no ring there. She seemed awfully young, but maybe she was a widow.

 "nuita enye be. " 

 She spoke slowly, wondering if he would understand, but almost certain he wouldn't. "enye me dzibe mayi oo."

 Samuel spoke up then in a whisper.

 "She says she doesn't want to."

 "Why?" James looked hurt. "We're nice guys. Only lunch . . . food . . ." He made the eating gesture again. ". . . cafe . . . okay? . . . Five minutes?" He held up five fingers on one hand. "Okay?" He held out both hands, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness and peace, and she looked suddenly weary as she shook her head. She looked as though she had had years of this, years of soldiers harassing her, and strangers in her homeland. "No American . . . No American . . . No . . . No cafe ... No ..." She did the now familiar eating gesture again.

 James folded his hands in supplication and for a minute he looked as though he might burst into tears. But at least she was still standing there, listening to him. He pointed to himself and then to Samuel. "The eastern part of India. . . Afrikiko . . . now Old Ghana Empire..." He pretended to shoot, he pantomimed Samuel's wounded arm, and looked at her imploringly, "One cafe . . . five minutes . . . please . . ."

 She seemed almost sorry this time when she shook her head and then started to turn away. "No. . . Don't want..." And then she walked away quickly as they stared after her. Even James didn't follow her this time. There was no point. But when Samuel started to walk away, James wouldn't follow.

 "Come on, man, she's gone, and she doesn't want to see us."

 "I don't care." He sounded like a disappointed schoolboy. "Maybe she'll change her mind when she comes back."

 "The only thing that'll be different is that maybe this time she'll have her father and seven brothers come and knock our teeth out. She told us no, and she meant it, now let's not waste all day standing here. There are a million other women in Circle, dying to show their gratitude to the liberating heroes." "I don't give a damn." James wasn't moving. "This girl's different."

 "You're damn right she is." Samuel was finally getting angry. Very angry. "She told us to take a hike. And personally, I intend to follow her advice, no matter how good her legs are. Are you coming, or not?"

 James hesitated for a moment and then followed him, but with obvious regret. And wherever they went that day, all he could think of was the beautiful girl with red hair on the street of Circle with the green eyes that blazed fire and sadness. There was something about her that haunted him, and after dinner that night, he left Samuel at the table with three girls, and quietly slipped away to walk slowly down her street, just to be near her. It was a crazy thing to do, and even he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to see her one more time, even if only from a distance. It wasn't just her looks, there was something more about her. Something he couldn't define or understand, but he wanted to know her ... or at least see her. . . . He had to. He stopped at a little cafe across the street, and ordered a cup of the bitter coffee that everyone drank black and without sugar, and sat staring at her doorway, and then watched in amazement as he saw her walking down the street with her string bag still full of books, and walk slowly up the steps to her house and stop there for a moment, looking for a key in her coin purse and glancing over her shoulder, as though to be sure no one was following her. James leapt to his feet, dropped a handful of coins on the table, and ran across the street, as she glanced up, startled. She looked as though she were going to bolt, and then held her ground with defiance. In occupied Circle, she had faced more ominous men than James, and she looked as though she were ready to face one more. But her eyes were more tired than angry this time when she faced him.

 "Good morning Daavi." He looked more sheepish now than he had before, and she shook her head, like a mother scolding a schoolboy.

 "Nuka tae ne kplom do?" He had no idea what she had said, and this time he

 didn't have Samuel to rely on, but she spoke more English than he had originally thought. She repeated her question to him in her gentle husky voice. "Why you do that?"

 "I want to talk to you." He spoke softly, as though caressing the graceful arms that shivered slightly in the cool night air. She had no sweater, only the ugly old blue dress.

 She waved vaguely toward the people in the streets, as though offering them up instead. "Many girls in Circle . . . happy talking Americans." Her eyes grew hard then. "Happy talking people, happy talking Americans . . ."He understood her.

 "And you only speak to Ewe men?"

 She smiled and shrugged. "Ewe people talk Americans too . . . Americans . . ." She wanted to tell him how Old Ghana Empire had betrayed itself, how ugly it had been, but there was no way to say all that with the little English she knew, and after all he was a stranger.

 "What is your name? Mine is James."

 She hesitated for a long time, thinking he didn't need to know it, and then shrugged, as though talking to herself. "Pearl Kekeli." But she did not hold out her hand in introduction. "You go?" She looked at him hopefully and he gestured toward the cafe across the street. "One cup of coffee, then I go? Please?"

 For an instant, he thought she would get angry again, and then, her shoulders drooping for the first time, she seemed to hesitate.

 "Dedi te nunye nuto." 

 She pointed to the books. He knew she couldn't be going to school at the moment. Everything was disrupted.

 "Do you go to school usually?"

 Teaching . . . little boy at home . . . very sick . . . tuberculose."

 He nodded. Everything about her seemed noble. "Aren't you hungry?" She didn't seem to understand and he made the eating gesture again, and this time she laughed, showing beautiful teeth and a smile that made his heart do cartwheels.

 "eee. . . eee

 ..." She held up one hand, fingers displayed. "minutes at. . . five minute!"

 "You'll have to drink fast and their coffee is pretty hot . . ." He felt as though he were flying as he took the string bag from her and led her across the street to the cafe. The owner greeted her as though he knew her, and seemed interested by the fact that she was there with an American soldier. She called him Dennis and they chatted for a moment before she ordered a cup of tea, but she refused to order anything to eat until James ordered for her. He ordered some cheese and bread, and in spite of herself, she devoured it. He noticed then for the first time, how thin she was when he looked at her closely. The proud shoulders were mostly bones, and she had long graceful fingers. She sipped the hot tea carefully and seemed grateful for the steaming liquid.

"Why you do this?" She asked him after she had sipped the tea. She shook her head slowly. "I no understand all no."

 He was unable to explain even to her why he felt so compelled to speak to her, but the moment he had laid eyes on her, he knew he had to.

 "I'm not sure." He looked pensive, and she seemed not to understand. He threw up his hands to show her he didn't know himself. And then he tried to explain it, touching his heart, and then his eyes. "I felt something different the first time I saw you."

 She seemed to disapprove and glanced at the other girls in the cafe, with American soldiers, but he was quick to shake his head. "No, no ... not like that. . . more . . ." He indicated "bigger" with his hands, and she looked sadly at him as though she knew better.

 "Not there, it no there. . . 

 it do not exist."

 "What doesn't?"

 She touched her heart and indicated "bigger," as he had.

 "Have you lost someone in the war? . . ." He hated to ask, "Your husband?" Slowly she shook her head, and then not knowing why, she told him. "My father . . . my brother . . . the Americans kill them . . . my mother die of tuberculose. . . . My father, my brother, in the war. "

 "And you?"

 "I look my mother well ... I ... take sick my mother . . ."

 "You took care of your mother?" She nodded.

 "De mevo nuto"

 —she waved her hand in annoyance at herself, and then indicated fright—"during the war. . . because my mother she need me very much. . . . My brother was sixteen . . ." Her eyes filled with tears then, and without thinking he reached out and touched Pearl's hand, and miraculously she let him, for an instant at least, before drawing it away to take another sip of tea, which gave her the breather she needed from the emotions of the moment.

 "Do you have other family?" She looked blank. "More brothers? Sisters? Aunts and uncles?"

She shook her head, her eyes serious. She had been

 alone for two years now. Alone against the Americans. Tutoring to make enough money to survive. She had often thought of the war after her mother died, but she was too frightened, and her brother had died such a pointless death. He hadn't died for glory, he had died betrayed by one of their Ewe neighbors. Everyone seemed to be collaborating, and a traitor. Except for a handful of loyal Ewe men, and they were being hunted down and slaughtered. Everything had changed. And Pearl along with it. The laughing, ebullient girl she had once been, had become a smoldering, angry, distant woman. And yet this boy had somehow reached out and touched her and she knew it. Worse yet, she liked it. It made her feel human again.

 "How old are you, Pearl?"

 "Wi asieke . . ." 

 She thought about it for a minute, trying to find the right numbers in English. "Ninety." She said quietly and then he laughed at her, and shook his head.

 "No, I don't think so. Nineteen?" Suddenly, she realized what she had said, and she laughed too, for the first time, looking suddenly young again and more beautiful than ever. "You look terrific for ninety."

 "And you?" 

 She asked the same question of him. "Twenty-three." It was suddenly like boy-and-girl. exchanges anywhere, except that they had both seen so much of life. She in Circle, and he with his bayonet, killing Americans.

 "Are you school? . . . 

 student?"

 He nodded. "At a place called Burkina, in Koforidua." He was still proud of it, even now, oddly enough with her it still seemed to matter, and he was doubly proud when he saw a light of recognition in her eyes.

 like la Burkina,

 " Burkina?"

 "You've heard of it?"

 "eee la . . . 

 of course! . no?"

 "Probably." He was pleased that she knew it, and they exchanged a smile. The tea and bread and cheese were long gone, but she didn't seem so anxious to leave now. "Could I see you tomorrow, Pearl? To go for a walk maybe? Or lunch? . . . dinner?" He realized how hungry she was now, how little food she probably had, and he felt it his duty to feed her.

 She started to shake her head and indicated the books in the string bag.

 "After? ... or before? . . . please ... I don't know how long I will be here." There was already talk of their leaving Circle and moving on to Saudi, and he couldn't bear the thought of leaving her. Not now . . . not yet . . . and maybe not ever. It was his first taste of real love, and he was totally in her thrall as he gazed into the green eyes that seemed so much gentler now, and so full of wisdom.

 She sighed. He was so persistent. And in spite of herself, she liked him. During the entire Occupation, she had not made friends with a single American, and certainly no soldier, and she didn't see why the liberation should be any different, and yet . . . and yet, this boy was different. And she knew it."okay, right " 

 she said reluctantly.

 "Don't look so excited," he teased and she looked confused as he smiled, and took her hand again. "Thank you."

 They stood up slowly then and he walked her to her door across the street. She gave him a formal little handshake and thanked him for dinner, and then with a resolute sound, the heavy door closed behind her. As James made his way slowly through the streets of Circle, he felt as though his whole life had changed in only a few hours. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that this woman . . . this girl . . . this extraordinary creature . . . had come into his life for a reason.