H.R.H.

“Yes, I will. But who will take care of me?” He was only half-teasing. He relied on her company for more than he would have, if his wife were still alive, or if Freddy were more of a presence in his life or a better companion. He was never around, and when he was, he provided more aggravation and concern than companionship or support. Christianna's father spoke to her, and opened up to her as he did to no one else in his life.

“I'll be back soon, Papa. And Freddy will be back in another month or two.” Her father rolled his eyes, and they both laughed.

“I don't think your brother will ever take care of me, or anyone else. And I think I'd be frightened if he did. The rest of us will be taking care of him.” They both knew he was right, and Christianna laughed again, although they both shared the same concern about what would happen to the country when Freddy would be the reigning prince. Christianna's father had begun to hope that she would become her brother's principal adviser, when that happened, and was trying to teach her all he could. She was a willing student, loving daughter, shirked no responsibilities, and never failed him, which would make her absence more acute, although admittedly even he knew that at times he put far too much burden on her.

“I'm sure he'll grow up one of these days, Papa,” Christianna said, trying to sound confident and hopeful, however undeserved.

“I wish I shared your optimism. I miss the boy, but I don't miss the chaos he creates while he's here. It's awfully peaceful around here without him.” He was always honest with her, as she was with him.

“I know. But there's no one like him, is there?” she said, sounding like an adoring sister, which she was. He had been her hero when she was a little girl, although he had always teased her, and still did now. “I'll call you whenever I can, Papa. Apparently they have phones at the post office there, although they're not very reliable, I'm told, and sometimes the lines are down for weeks. Then all we can do is radio out. But I'll get word to you somehow, I promise.” She knew her bodyguards would work something out, so she could get messages to her father to reassure him. They wouldn't have dared to do otherwise, or he might force her to come back, if she caused him to worry too much. She was going to do everything she could to stay in touch, whatever that had to be. She was still hoping he would allow her to extend her trip. She wanted to stay the full year.

Their last night together was bittersweet. They had dinner in the private dining room, and talked about her plans. She asked him about some new economic policies he had just introduced, and what the parliament's reaction had been to them. He was pleased that she had asked, and enjoyed discussing it with her. But then it only reminded him again of how lonely his life would be without her. She hadn't even left yet, and he couldn't wait for her to get back. He wanted the coming months to speed past, and he knew they wouldn't. Without the bright sunshine she provided in his life, the days would drag. Selfishly, he was thinking of insisting that she come back after the initial six months, and when he mentioned it to her, she asked him to wait to decide. She might be ready to come back then herself, or need a few more months to finish whatever she started. She asked him to keep an open mind, and he agreed. Their exchanges were always reasonable, affectionate, and adult. In many ways, she was one of the main reasons he hadn't remarried. With Christianna to keep him company, and talk to him, he didn't need a wife, nor want one. And besides, he felt it was too late in his life to start again. Before that, he had been too busy. He was comfortable now as he was, although he would be far less so when she was gone. He kissed her goodnight, already mourning her absence, and they had breakfast together the next morning. She was wearing blue jeans for the long flight, and would probably wear nothing else for the next year. She had packed only one dress, just in case, two peasant skirts she had brought back from California, several pairs of shorts she had worn at school, a stack of jeans and T-shirts, hats, mosquito netting, insect repellents, her malaria medication, and sturdy boots and shoes to protect her from the dreaded snakes.

“This is no worse than when I used to go back to school in California after the holidays, Papa. Think of it that way,” she tried to console him. He looked so mournful and so sad before she left.

“I would prefer to think of you right here.”

He could barely speak when he said goodbye to her. He held her in a long hug, and she kissed his cheek lovingly, as she always did. “You know how I rely on you, don't you, Cricky? Take care of yourself.”