Free Listening for Lions by Gloria Whelan

the picture in Valerie’s room. The outline of his shape in the bed was long and thin. His expression was very severe. I thought him so like a Masai warrior, I felt the Masai greeting, sobai , coming to my lips. When I looked more closely, I saw that beneath the severity was a look of hopelessness and defeat. It was the look of a Masai who has been shut into a prison.
    â€œHere she is, Hobart,” Mr. Grumbloch said.
    With great effort the man turned his head upon the pillow and stared at me with so penetrating a look, I was sure he knew me for the fraud I was, and I trembled.
    â€œNot what I expected,” he said. His voice was harsh,and he paused between words as if he were catching his breath. “A thin little thing and peaked. You look half frightened to death.” He turned to Mr. Grumbloch. “Thank you, Reginald.” As I watched the solicitor leave, I wanted to run after him.
    When we were alone, the grandfather, pausing between breaths, said, “I wanted just two things: to see you, Valerie, and to see the return of my own bird this spring, the bird I call Hylocichla guttata pritchardi. You are here, and as to the bird, I have no hope to hang on long enough for my little thrush.” He heaved a great sigh. “The best I can hope for is that I may live to see the flycatchers’ return, for they will soon be here.”
    For a moment I forgot my troubles, for the little flycatchers that hopped about our garden were my favorites. “Do your flycatchers have long forked tails, like trains on ball gowns?” I asked.
    â€œNo, no. Forked tails to be sure, but short. Tell me what yours are like.”
    â€œReddish on top with a black cap and tail feathers three or four times longer than their bodies. They’re friendly, you know. They fly about me when I’m in the hammock.” Suddenly I stopped, horrified. I had seen no hammock at the Pritchards’.
    The grandfather noticed my hesitation. “What is it, child?”
    I saw that he was having a more difficult time breathing.Before I could stop myself I said, “I think you would be better with more pillows to raise you up a bit.” Believing for a moment I was back in the hospital, I reached over and adjusted the pillows.
    There was a silence, and I worried that I had gone too far. At last he said, “Yes, that is better.” His look, sharp as an arrow, went right through me. “I’ve never known you to write a word about birds in your letters,” he said. “Or anything else about the countryside down there, except to complain of the bugs and the heat.”
    Quickly I said, “It is hot and there are lots of bugs. We have to shake out our shoes each morning because of spiders and scorpions, but there are beetles as green as jade and wonderful bright-red dragonflies nearly as large as airplanes.”
    â€œYou sound as if you liked Africa.” He was staring at me.
    I remembered I was Valerie and quickly said, “Oh, no. I couldn’t wait to leave.”
    â€œReally? Well, you will have to tell me more about this country you dislike so much. I must rest now. Let me see you after your supper. But first come here for a moment.”
    Trembling, I crept close to him. He ran his hand over my hair and touched my cheek. I had thought his touch would be harsh, but it was gentle. “Not what I expected,” he murmured, and closed his eyes.
    Mr. Grumbloch had left. A young maid, who said hername was Ellie, led me along the hall and into a bedroom very unlike the grandfather’s, for this room was papered in a bright floral print, and the pale light of the February afternoon was streaming through two large windows. A fire glowed in the fireplace, warming the room.
    Ellie’s hair, which lay like two gold petals on either cheek, was fastened into a neat knot. She had wide-open blue eyes, as if she were astonished at everything she saw. “Here we are, Miss. I hope everything