There was a weight on her head today, and she dropped into her lounge chair to spend the rest of the day watching movies. She starts with a favorite, Out of Africa with Robert Redford. She thinks she is dreaming but it feels real and wakes to see him—yes, Robert Redford is in her house and knelling in front of her.
“She’ll go away,” he says.
“The lioness. She’s just curious. I will protect you.”
No, he won’t, she thinks, but she wishes for that hero—not a hero of the world, although that would be even better—just a hero of himself. Yet, there is the surge of passion for this man Denys and in her head, she sees Fitz. He wants to move his things in, but not himself. He loves her the way he loves the land—with hesitation knowing that the ground is always shifting. He wants commitment, but freedom, and it becomes the way and reason she loves him—because of that contradiction—that personal commitment to stay free when the politics of life and relationships will smother that out like an unfinished cigarette.
Sara, too. She survives in a land driven by technology achievements while she has visions of the whole of the world. She writes and thinks instead of gossiping and chattering about useless endeavors. She runs her own life and predicts her own future. She scorns lies and liars which surround her. She is the hunter.
On screen a lion unexpectedly charges from another direction, and it is up to Sara to protect herself. She shoots. She doesn’t miss. Sara has bitten her lip in anxiety. Denys, or is it Fitz that reaches out and touches the blood. Then they hold each other shielding themselves from the aggressive world, at least for those precious moments.
Excerpt from A Year of Men and Madness, book 1 in the series .