Page 48 of Guarding Zuri
“Your mother must’ve been very disciplined to paint the way she did. I’m not sure I could sit still and paint for hours.”
“Yes, you’re too restless.”
“You think you know me?”
He chuckled. “Conservation was an equal passion of hers along with art. And it’s nice that you’re interested. She would’ve liked you.”
“A revolutionary’s daughter and a conservationist-painter?”
“She was strong-willed and spoke her mind. Not afraid of danger and willing to fight for what she thought was right.” His smile was genuine. “You would’ve liked her, too. And, yes, I know you.”
A pleasant shivered rolled down her spine and her cheeks warmed. Dragging her eyes away from the intensity of his gaze, she rolled down the window to look at the passing view and was smacked in the face by the thick hand of humidity. Daemon whined about the loss of the vehicle’s cool air, and Zuri reluctantly rolled up the window. She had to be content in viewing Tampa from behind a tinted window.
“You’ll get plenty of sticky air, walking around the park, trust me,” Daemon said.
And he wasn’t wrong. An hour’s drive later, they stepped out of the vehicle in front of the preserve. Zuri’s jaw hung open as she attempted to suck in oxygen out of the air, heavy with moisture.She wore a white tank top and dark fitted jeans, and she felt them both cling to her skin.
“Our timing was perfect. The preserve is closed to the public today,” Daemon said as they walked to the visitor center. “The staff is here doing quarterly training and grounds maintenance. If we’re lucky, the vets will also be here to do their routine checks on the animals. Perhaps we can watch.”
“I would love to see them work.”
Zuri gazed up at the wooden arch, naming the preserve. On the drive up the lane to the preserve’s entrance, she could see groupings of green trees and the expanse of land owned by the preserve. Zuri believed animals should roam free, like they did in Bendola. But this wasn’t a zoo, common in Western cultures that she’d seen on television. Daemon’s mother respected animals; it was in the paint strokes of her paintings in her art room.
Within days, she would be back in Bendola and Gohi would be removed from power. She wasn’t sure when she would even see America again.I’ll be too busy working in government.Visiting Maude Knight’s preserve felt like a peaceful way to end her short, eventful visit to a country her father dreamed Bendola would one day have strong relations with. And she admired Maude. She was more than a talented artist. She lived her principles. In a way, Maude reminded Zuri of her own mother. She believed the two of them would’ve been friends.
“What about Odin?” Zuri asked as she followed Daemon.
They stepped underneath the awning of the visitor center and into the shade. Florida’s sun was scorching, and the shade offered some respite. Daemon looked grieved. “I called down here yesterday and asked. Odin passed last year. It’s still hard to believe. My mother visited him often, even after marrying and having a family. When she died, the vets say he became depressed—like he knew he’d never see her again. They introduced another tiger that helped rejuvenate Odin for a while. Then old age caught up to him.”
“He lived a long life. And this place is beautiful.”
“I can’t help be feel I failed him.”
“How?”
“I wasn’t here. This place had purpose for my mother. I promised her that I would look after it.” Daemon looked around and shook his head. “Truth is, this is the first time I’ve been here in years. I’ve been too busy.”
“Busy trying to keep everyone else from dying.” He stared at her as though she’d uncovered some secret he was keeping hidden. “Is that your true purpose?” Daemon stared at the ground as they walked together and Zuri thought he was considering if protective security was a natural for him or penance for Jeremy and his mother. When he didn’t answer her, she said, “I’m sorry we can’t see him.”
“Me, too.”
“Your mother painted him so wonderfully.”
“It’s a true likeness.”
One of the workers opened the visitor’s center door and waved them in. Cool air whirled around them, and Zuri sighed with relief. Daemon chuckled. “You asked for it.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
He winked at her. “Let me show you the conservation’s history.”
The employee deactivated a turnstile for Daemon and Zuri to walk through. Ahead of them, a display was in the center of the lobby. With pictures and artifacts, it told the story of the preserve’s history. From the acquisition of the first acreage to the addition of Daemon’s mother to the operating board, the history of the preserve had been articulated. With her help, the preserve expanded and rescued more animals. Jobs were produced for the local population and many of the youth volunteers studied veterinarian science, husbandry, and biology. Some even returned to work full time for the preserve.
“Your mother was instrumental in making the preserve what it is today,” Zuri commented.
“She was.” Daemon stood in front of a picture of his mother, a woman with dark hair pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head, a big smile on her face as she was perched on a large stone near Odin. Zuri recognized the tiger by the pattern of his stripes captured beautifully in the painting in her room. “She worked tirelessly to get funding for the preserve and to create an educational experience for children and their families. With more education, empathy for nature would grow, is what she said.”
“Ready for a tour? The jeep is ready,” the employee said. She walked them out to an open-air jeep. Once in their seats, the young woman handed them electronic fans that sprayed water. Zuri laughed as she was sprayed. “They’re really helpful at keeping you cool,” she said.
