Seth, Rob, and Sidecar were the only people left around the enclosure, so Natalie quietly said, “Please back away from the elephant.”
She waited for them to move themselves and their camera equipment, then she slipped in closer to Sophie, put her hand on Sophie’s ear and felt for her pulse. It wasn’t as rapid as she thought it would be. Only then did she place her hands on Sophie’s head and take some deep breaths, deliberately calming herself.
Breathe in, breathe out. When she felt Sophie begin to emulate the rhythm of the breath, she began softly singing “My Funny Valentine,” the only song she could think of at the moment. Andrew had been whistling it all day yesterday, making her complain to him that he’d provided an ear worm she couldn’t shut off. He’d laughed. Little did he know that the song that had bothered Natalie so much yesterday was the exact balm Sophie needed today.
Within ten minutes—and four repetitions of the song—Sophie’s pupils returned to normal, she’d accepted some food, and she rumbled gently. She’d made great strides, Natalie felt, but there were still some triggers that aroused Sophie’s PTSD. Natalie would never be able to make those triggers disappear, but she could help Sophie learn that her own actions made the bone-crushing fear worse. It surprised her sometimes that she often applied what had worked for her own PTSD when dealing with Sophie’s. Sometimes the remedy worked, sometimes it didn’t.
She was lucky this time.
Convinced Sophie was fine, Natalie began to move to the gate, still humming under her breath, planning to walk to her cabin and take as hot a shower as she could manage. She was completely drained.
Behind her, Seth coughed.
She stopped mid-step. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to him. She had forgotten all about him and his cameramen throughout the time she’d sung to Sophie, so engrossed in getting the elephant calm.
“Mind if I walk with you?” He matched his steps to hers before she had a chance to say yes. His white, cotton shirtsleeves were rolled up to his biceps. A set of sunglasses hung out of the breast pocket.
Behind him, his two-man camera crew continued filming. They’d never stopped, she figured. Her shoulders tensed with the memory of other camera crews that filmed her every move. Their endless questions. Their demands for her time. Their intense curiosity about how she was handling her grief. Now she would be on film with Sophie. She still wasn’t sure she was comfortable with that.
With a superhuman effort, she shut down the memory that threatened to overtake her. She was getting good at doing that.
“That was amazing.” Seth’s eyes were wide open, excited. “You were like a hypnotist back there. The damn elephant whisperer. Whatever made you sing to her? It was magical. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.” He swung his arms, walking sideways to talk to her, his lips curved in a smile so wide, every one of his white teeth were displayed.
She laughed wearily. “Right.” A stray thought about how dirty she was ran through her mind. Too late for that, she figured and wondered why it had ever been important to her that her hair and makeup were perfect.
“Have you sung to her before? Does it always have that effect?”
“I used to sing to my—” She caught herself, almost gave herself away. She had sung to the boys all the time. When nothing else worked, an old Beatles standard would calm them down. They had their favorites, and most times, she sang the wrong words. They didn’t care. Neither did Sophie.
“It’s nothing,” she told Seth. “Just some white noise to calm her down.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s the singing, but it’s much more than that. Your connection with that elephant is like you’re communicating without speaking. It’s amazing,” Seth said. “We shot the best raw footage with you right now, better than anything else we’ve done since we started here. So glad that happened.”
“Listen, this might be my exhaustion talking,” she said, her words tumbling out before she thought about them being caught on camera, “but I’m not setting up moments like that one with Sophie so that you can get a few sound bites. I’ve been working long and hard with her, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t be so delighted when she backslides like that. Jesus, she could have done some damage today! Would you have liked that? Would it be exciting to get a rampaging elephant on tape?” She glanced behind her, and Rob and Sidecar, caught in the act of filming her, looked sheepishly away. “Turn the damn cameras off,” she said. “Can you give me a break, for God’s sake?”
“Wow, I’m sorry. I—I . . . you know, we’re . . . I mean, we really didn’t do anything except to film.” Seth threw his hands out to the side, palms up. “I’m not in this business to create drama. I just want to report it. There’s enough natural tragedies and excitement in the animal world without inventing more. Besides,” he laughed a little sarcastically, “I want to live a while longer. Not interested in getting trampled by a rampaging two-ton gray beast.”
She let out a breath, realizing she had taken out her frustrations on the wrong person. That’s what happened when she was stressed. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m wiped out. I need a shower and some sleep. It’s not your fault about what happened. I’m protective about Sophie. She’s come so far.”
“I understand.” He touched her gently on the shoulder, so lightly that it felt as if he was afraid to touch her at all. Then he took a step backward and shrugged his shoulders, as if caught doing something he’d be ashamed of later. “You’ve had a long day. I’ll let you go and rest.”
With a half-hearted wave, he turned and followed Rob and Sidecar up the road.
She watched after them for a moment, a bit stunned that his simple touch on her shoulder had made her stomach flip. She hadn’t expected that. Yes, he was attractive and dynamic and personable, but that stomach flip meant she was physically attracted. When was the last time that had happened?
They disappeared around the corner, and she let her shoulders slump. Suddenly the adrenaline left her body and her exhaustion rooted her to the ground as if her legs had turned to granite.
When she finally could lift her legs to walk, she made it to her cabin, but never to the shower. Hours later, she woke up, still fully-dressed atop the bed, and simply rolled over.
The last thing she thought before going straight back to sleep was: Why would Chanchai be trying to handle Sophie with an ankus?