According to the position of the sun it was around noon. Had it been midsummer, Jane would have at this hour chosen not to leave the safe shade of her treetop-abode, lest her delicate pale skin be burned by the damaging rays, or she be suffocated from dehydration. Such risks she had learned to take into account after a year or two now living in the jungle. However, it was December, and though the day was still quite hot, noontime was quite bearable.

Jane yawned. She must have been asleep all morning. Why had Tarzan not woken her? Jane rested back on her hands against the soft bed sheets. The curtains to the room’s little windows were pulled closed, but the skylight on the ceiling high above her head was wide open, and the warm sunlight shone down on her. Jane’s gaze fell upon the china plate of fruit and the cup, which upon inspection, turned out to be of coconut milk. Jane smiled to herself. This was how he had left her this morning; The curtains closed to prevent the sun shining in and waking her, but the skylight open to let in air; breakfast left beside her bed to greet her when she awoke.

Then her focus fell upon something a little further away in the room. A creation of Tarzan’s, not yet quite finished. A cradle, carved from strong redwood. Beside it, on the chair, a small pile of pillows and blankets that Jane had sewn herself.

Jane drank the milk and ate three bananas. She had become particularly fond of bananas over the last few months. Following this she rose, awkwardly, and collected together the things she intended to use while bathing in the river – only to find, when entering the small spare room adjacent to the one she slept in, the bathtub filled with water, which must have been carried by hand-and-bucket from the river to the tree house, or via some other ingenious method devised between her father and Tarzan. Jane smiled again, dabbling her slender fingers in the water. She found it to be pleasantly cool.

Giving in to the obvious intentions of her father and Tarzan, Jane did not go to the river but instead removed her nightdress and stepped into the bath. There she rested for some time, and she was almost drifting off into sleep again when she heard footsteps on the wooden floor outside, and uneasily reached for a towel.  The footsteps stopped outside of the bedroom, and she heard a familiar ‘ah!’

“Daddy! I’m…in the bath.” Jane called. “Uh but please don’t come in…I-I’m not…wearing…y-you know - anything.” She stammered, quickly. Jane sank lower into the tub, trying to conceal her nakedness from anybody or thing that may disregard her wishes and enter the room.

“Quite right Janey. How are you feeling today?” Professor Porter called back from outside.

“I’m alright, thank you Daddy. I appear to have slept in quite late. Again.” Jane took a deep breath and submerged herself in the water. After a few moments she surfaced, then stood up and got out of the bath. With the towel she dried herself and squeezed the water out of her hair, which she then plaited to the side to keep it out of the way. All the while, she spoke with her father.

“Its time to measure you today. Only three months to go now.” Said Porter. Jane emerged from her hideaway. The dress she wore now, voluminous light airy white silk, fell down over the swollen bulge that was her stomach. Porter smiled warmly at her. “You look positively radiant, my darling.”

Jane returned the smile. “Where is my husband this morning?” She asked.

“I am afraid that I do not know, Janey.” Said Porter, as they returned to Jane and Tarzan’s bedroom and Jane sat down on the foot of the bed, as she always did for her ‘measuring’, and followed her father’s words with an expression of both worry and inquisitiveness. “Oh, darling you know Tarzan – he’ll be romping around the jungle with the gorillas or some such thing. You know not to worry about him.” He continued, slipping the tape measure around Jane’s bump. Then he scribbled in his notebook.

“Have you not seen him at all?” Asked Jane, her hand caressing the underneath of her stomach as she leant back on the other palm.

“This morning when I got up he was filling the bath with water.” Porter replied. “He enlisted Tantor’s help with that.” Jane chose not to think too much about this. “Then I ate breakfast with him, and he checked on you and made you breakfast, and then he left and I left to carry out some experiments in my lab with Tantor. That’s what I’ve been doing until now.”

“Hmm. Alright. How is she?” Asked Jane.

“She?”

“My baby. What did my ‘measuring’ tell you?”

“What makes you so sure it’s a girl?” Porter asked, curiously.

“I just know…I don’t know how, I…I just have a really strong feeling…I know she’s a girl.” Said Jane, smiling slightly and rubbing her stomach affectionately.

“Ah.” Said Porter, smiling. “Can’t argue with that. Mother’s intuition, you know. She is fine, as far as I can tell. Though for just six months along, that’s quite a generously proportioned bump you have, Janey.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Jane sighed.

“All the more reason for you to rest, my dear. We don’t want you tiring yourself out.” Said Porter, winding up the tape measure and putting it into a box, along with his notebook and pencil.

“I’ve been resting all morning, Daddy. I want to go out. Besides, I have to go to the trading post.” Jane protested, rising awkwardly, supporting her back with both hands. Porter steadied her.

“Whatever for, Janey?”

“I want to see if Dumont has got something that I suggested to him. You know how very obliging he is to me.”

“What something?” Asked Porter

“Herbal tea. Back pains.” Jane explained, simply.

“Ah. You know, I’d be very happy to run and get it for you, Janey.” Porter said imploringly. Jane shook her head but smiled lopsidedly.

“No thank you daddy, like I said – I want to go out. And perhaps I’ll find my husband somewhere along the way.”

*~*~*~*

Basket in hand, Jane made her way to the trading post along the riverbank. The journey, which should have lasted a mere fifteen minutes, was lengthened by Jane’s slow pace as she carried a weight that she was not entirely accustomed to, and by the time she arrived she was quite tired.

Dumont eyed her with some skepticism as she entered the small wooden room, and collapsed onto a bench.

“…My goodness…” She exclaimed, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

Other customers observed her with a similar expression to Dumont’s, some viewing it to be quite improper for a woman so visibly with child to be showing herself in public.

“Good afternoon, Jane.” The Frenchman called from behind the counter. Jane waved her hand in acknowledgement, and then returned it to its occupation fanning her flushed face. Once Dumont was finished with his customers, he left the desk and came to sit by her.

“Can’Iy get you anysing?” He offered. “Some water, per’aps?”

“Please,” Jane said, “If you don’t mind.”

Dumont returned a few moments later with a glass of water. Jane took it with gratitude and downed the contents.

“Thank you, Monsieur Dumont.” She said, handing him back the empty glass.

“Please, call me Renard.” Dumont said, very charmingly. Jane ignored him. She leant back against the bench and rested her hand on her stomach, and released a lengthly sigh. Dumont’s expression returned to that of skepticism.

“Are you sure you should be going out in your present condition, Madame?” He inquired.

“Monsieur Dumont, this is hardly all that public. It’s the jungle for heaven’s sake.” Said Jane. “I mean if this was the middle of London then perhaps not, but I refuse to spend the next three months of my life trapped indoors, out here in the African rainforest.”

“Yes, but London is not crawling wis leopards and snakes, Madame. Where is your big strong ‘usband right now? Shouldn’t ‘ee be protecting you at zeh moment, in your most vulnerable condition?”

Jane did not answer him.

“I would be if it were me.” Dumont continued. Jane rolled her eyes.

“Monsieur Dumont, I can cope quite well by myself, as you can see. I’m not going to go wondering off into leopard territory, or diving in any snake pits, that could just be a little too much fun for me to cope with right now.”

Dumont smirked.

“Before I forget to ask; do you have the herbal tea I ordered a few weeks ago?” Jane said.

“I don’t sink so, Madame. But I’ll check zeh orders.” Dumont said. He rose from the bench and walked into the building’s back room. “So how is zeh baby?” He called back to Jane.

“She’s fine.” Replied Jane, a warm feeling entering her stomach at the thought of it.

“She? ‘Ow do you know it’s a she?” Dumont called.

“I just know.”

“Do you not ‘ope for a son, Madame? What does your ‘usband want?”

“We hope for a child, Monsieur Dumont.” Replied Jane.

“Well, in zat case I imagine you ‘ave been sinking about a name for zeh little girl?” Said Dumont, at length.

Jane was a little surprised.

“No, I…as a matter of fact, I haven’t…”

Dumont returned from the back room, empty handed. “No tea, Iy’m afraid Madame. But zer are some shipments due tomorrow, so you should return.” Jane looked thoughtful.

“Monsieur Dumont…what would you name your daughter, if you had one?”

“Why, I would call ‘er Jane, after ‘er moth’er.” He said. Jane rolled her eyes again.

“Your subtlety astounds me. Now if you don’t mind I must find my husband. Thank you for investigating the tea for me.” She said, rising with difficulty and taking her empty basket.

“Don’t forget to return tomorrow, Madame.” Said Dumont, as Jane opened the door.

“Hmm.” Jane muttered.

*~*~*~*

As Jane made her way back in the direction of her tree house, she had the distinct, uncomfortable feeling that she was being followed. Or watched, at any rate. At first she dismissed it as paranoia spawned by Dumont’s ‘leopards and snakes’ comment, but shortly the feeling turned into an awareness of soft noises pursuing her along her path, but every time she turned her head she could see nothing but the shrub-laden jungle floor and its trees.

In mild panic she broke into a run, but now the invisible thing was following her even more closely. Jane felt it must almost certainly be upon her, when strong hands suddenly grasped her around the waist and hauled her upwards away from the ground.

“AAAGHUAAHH!” She yelped in surprise. Momentarily she felt herself being guided madly through the air, and then in an instant placed firmly down again. Opening her eyes, she found her husband with her, both of them seated upon a branch, and he was looking at her with some concern.

“Jane?”

“Tarzan? Tarzan you mustn’t do that! It’s not safe for the baby!” Jane scorned, putting one had on her stomach and the other on the branch to steady herself. Tarzan said nothing but pointed downwards to the ground where Jane had been.

“My goodness!” Jane exclaimed, when she saw the enormous black snake glaring up at them from the undergrowth, curved fangs bared threateningly. “Tha – that’s a black mamba!”

Tarzan nodded grimly, then gripped her shoulders and shook her slightly as he spoke.

“Jane, what are you doing here? I thought I’d made it so that you wouldn’t have to leave the tree house today! I left you breakfast and a bath, and I wasn’t going to be away all day, so what are you doing out here by yourself?”

Jane still hadn’t completely recovered from the shock of what had just happened to her. Her cheeks reddened a little.

“I had to – or rather, I wanted to go to the trading post.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see if Monsieur Dumont had some tea for me. He didn’t.”

“I could have got it for you, Jane.”

“You weren’t there…and besides, Daddy offered to do that but I told him I’d rather go myself.”

“But why Jane? Don’t you see the danger you put yourself in?”

“Tarzan, this has never happened to me before. I’m always alright by myself.”

“Jane, if I hadn’t been here that snake would have killed you. It really would have.”

“I appreciate that, my darling, but really I don’t think I would have had much more chance even if I wasn’t pregnant, do you?”

“But…”

Tarzan trailed off. Jane did have a point. But he couldn’t shake off the worry for her. If she was right, then why did he feel forced to act this way?

As if she could read his thoughts, Jane leant forward and placed her hand against his cheek, and said, “I know you’re worried about her and me,” (Tarzan knew who Jane meant by ‘her’.) “Of course you are, but you don’t know what its like being stuck inside the tree house all day and every day, sometimes by myself too. I just have to go outside sometimes. And you don’t always have to follow me.”

“I wasn’t following you.” Tarzan protested. “And besides, you’ve been outside now today, so I’m taking you home.”

Jane smiled at him. He scooped her up into his arms, and she put one arm about his neck and kissed him upon the lips. And then,

“WAIT! No vines!” She exclaimed, suddenly, before Tarzan had the chance to leap off the branch and begin a mad mid-air rush through the trees and creepers.

“I know, I know.” He said, dropping to the floor gently. They covered the entire remaining distance on foot.

*~*~*~*

Though she would not have told Tarzan, Jane was actually quite thankful for the lift. The walk to and from the trading post had quite exhausted her, not to mention the panicked run at the end of it. She lay in Tarzan’s arms, playing with a stray dreadlock of hair that hung by his ear, and through half closed eyes gazed up into his face. She felt pleasantly cushioned from everything threatening in the world around her. It rather reminded her of how it felt when her mother had held her as a small child. This she expressed to her husband.

Upon re-entering the tree house the couple were hailed by Professor Porter.

“Ah! Well done my boy, you found her. Not up to any mischief, I trust.” He chuckled. Tarzan and Jane exchanged a glance, but said nothing.

“What time is it?” Jane asked, as Tarzan let her gently down onto her feet. Porter took out his pocket watch.

“A half past three, Janey. Did Dumont have your herbal tea?”

“No. Not yet. I will go back tomorrow.” Jane said, restraining Tarzan with one had as he began to look protestful.

“Ah – never mind! I have a possible solution to your problem.” Said Porter.

“Oh?” Said Jane, as she watched her father move a chair into the center of the bedroom, and then retrieve a pillow from the bed.

“Yes, if you come and sit here – no, like this-” Said Porter, as Jane sat down. He made her rearrange herself so that she was facing the chair back while seated backward. “Now, rest your arms on this-” and he passed her the pillow. Jane put it on the top of the chair back and leant against it.

“What are you doing with me, Daddy?” Jane questioned. Tarzan watched in curiosity.

“Your mother found this very helpful when she was carrying you. It’s a back massage. Now – Tarzan – if you come sit here – that’s right – I’ll show you how to do it. Now, first you take the first two knuckles on your hand – yes – and feel if you can find Jane’s spine.”

Jane felt the gentle pressure of Tarzan’s bent fingers pressing on her back as he felt for the bumps of her lower vertebrae through the dress she wore.

“I have found it.” He told Porter, a slight note of pride in his voice.

“Right-oh. Next, with one finger either side of her spine, you push firmly but gently upwards – that’s right – and then down again – yes – and you do that for a few minutes – how does that feel, Janey?

“Very pleasant, Daddy.” Jane said, sleepily. It was true – the dull ache in her back faded quickly, and with every rise and fall of Tarzan’s knuckles she felt more and more relaxed. She closed her eyes and rested her head upon her arms. Porter continued with his instruction of Tarzan.

“Next, place the heel of each palm on the small of her back, and – like this – make outward circling movements,” he demonstrated in the air, looking rather like somebody washing a window. “-See?”

Jane’s thoughts crept back to her conversation with Dumont earlier in the day. Then she remembered what she had been thinking about before she became aware of the giant black snake following her: what to name their little girl.

Jane herself had been named after her mother. Perhaps that was the answer. But no, it just didn’t sound right. Her daughter Jane. Quite a silly thing it was, she decided, to name one’s children after one’s self.

Through much sleepy contemplation, another question arose in her mind. What had been the name Tarzan’s parents had given their little son? She knew it was Kala who had given him the name by which they all knew him, but surely his real parents had had a name for him too.

“Jane, how does you back feel?” Asked Professor Porter, at length.

“Jane?” Said Tarzan, when Jane made no reply. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and then moved so that he had a view of her face. Once he had seen it, he smiled. “She’s asleep.”

“Ah – then the massage is a success!” Porter chuckled.

“Yes. I’m going to put her into bed.” Said Tarzan. He laid Jane’s head back against his shoulder, and then put his arms underneath her and gently lifted her away from the chair. Jane did not stir, so deeply asleep she was.

“I have not put her to bed as such since she was very young.” Said Porter, once Jane was securely tucked between the sheets. “Her mother used to, before she died.”

“What happened to her?” Asked Tarzan quietly. Porter sighed.

“My Jane died when our little Jane was five. She just became sick; the doctors didn’t know what it was. And she died, within a few months. Up until then we had been living in Maryland, in America. In Baltimore, which is where I met my Jane, and where our little Jane was born. After her mother died we moved back to Knightsbridge in London.”

Tarzan’s heart ached at the thought of what it would be like to lose his Jane. He placed a gentle hand against her cheek.

“You must miss her very much.” He said. Porter nodded.

“Yes, we both do. But I have my little Janey. She looks just like her mother, you know, except my Jane’s hair was curly. And she loved to paint, and draw.”

“Like Jane.” Said Tarzan, still watching the peaceful face of his young wife.

“Yes, quite right. Jane is very much like her mother.” Said Porter.

At length, Tarzan said quietly “We should leave her now.”

They exited the room silently, leaving Jane to her afternoon’s dreaming.

*~*~*~*

The day’s exertions had certainly tired Jane out, and she slept for the whole evening and night. When she finally awoke, it was to the warmth of her husband’s knuckles against her cheek. Half asleep she was vaguely aware of the presence beside her, but suddenly her consciousness snapped back and she awoke with a start and opened her eyes.

“Wha – wha…? Tarzan?”

It was a moment or two before her vision adjusted and came into focus, but when it did she saw Tarzan’s grinning face looking up at her from his crouched position upon the floor.

“Good morning, Jane. Look what I brought you!” He said, bringing something out from behind his back. A cup of tea.

“Oh – thank you.” She said, sitting up and yawning. “What time is it?”

“It’s about ten o’clock in the morning.” Said Tarzan, passing Jane the cup. She rested it on her stomach.

“Oh. That’s terribly late, I shall not have any of the day left if I carry on like – wait – Tarzan, this is the tea I ordered from the trading post! You went there for me and got it?”

“Yes. I thought I’d save you the time.”

“Oh…but, Tarzan – that’s very kind of you, but you knew I wanted to go there and get it myself, really.”

“Well, we can do something else – I’ll take you down to the elephant’s lagoon and you can bathe in the water – or – we could just go down and eat with the gorillas, it’s almost lunch time.”

Jane couldn’t help but smile. It was impossible to stay annoyed with him when all he had in mind was her happiness and safety.

She sighed, lightly.

“Alright love, take me down to the lagoon. Goodness knows I could do with a swim after laying in bed for so long.” She picked up the teacup and raised it to her lips. No sooner had she drank from it, though, a look of disgust crossed her face, and she choked and spluttered.

“Oh – Tarzan – love – did you make this?

“Yes.” Tarzan replied, looking innocent. Jane recovered herself, and placed the offending cup back down in its saucer.

“Right, well, I think perhaps I’ll give you a few pointers before you try that again.”

*~*~*~*

By the end of the day, (about four o’clock, according to Tarzan), the couple had made it to the lagoon, then the beach, then Tarzan had opposed Jane’s suggestion that they go for a walk by instead taking her back to the lagoon, where Tantor fussed over Jane’s diet and sleeping patterns, and somehow convinced her to allow him to baby-sit the yet-to-be-born child for four nights a week.

“Tarzan – love – I’ve got to exercise. I’ve barely moved all day, and I’ll never get to sleep tonight if I don’t get rid of some of this energy.” Jane complained to her husband, as he carried her back to their home. “Would you let me walk?”

Tarzan put her down, reluctantly. Then he said,

“Tantor said there were some poisonous stinging plants growing in this area. I just want you to be careful because he said they-”

“Oh come now, since when have you taken precautionary advice from Tantor, he’s the most paranoid creature that ever lived!” Interrupted Jane with annoyance, folding her arms across her chest.

“Yes…but, you know you can never be too careful when it comes to stinging SNAKE!” Tarzan yelled, grabbing Jane and leaping a clear six feet backwards away from the offending creature, which wasn’t even half the length of Jane’s arm.

Jane had had it.

“PUT ME DOWN Tarzan! Would you just leave me alone?!” She yelled, fighting her way out of his grasp and storming off into the trees without him.

*~*~*~*

She had been right, too, for that night as her husband slept soundly beside her, Jane tossed and turned restlessly, unable to clear her mind. Her thoughts were of Tarzan’s parents, and wondering more and more about what had fated them here in the jungle. How they had come to be there.

And the constant nagging on her mind, coupled with her resentment of her husband’s over protective behavior led to her doing a very odd thing: She got up, got dressed, and sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night alone to find the answers to her questions.

Moonlight shone in through the windows and the cracks in the walls and ceiling of the old empty tree house. It had been Tarzan’s parents’ final resting place, and she and he had left it relatively as they’d found it. Even after briefly living there themselves after their own tree house had been destroyed in a fire, it seemed inappropriate to disturb the building’s sanctity.

Jane lit a candle, though the moonlight alone was just about adequate to inspect the house’s objects and furniture. A cradle. A wooden chest of clothes, of fashion from before Jane’s birth. A desk, with books. And a picture frame with broken glass.

Jane gazed at the faces of the three that gazed blankly back at her. A man, a woman and a baby. How strange it felt, thought Jane, to see the one she loved as he had been. And his parents. If only they knew what had become of him.

Jane suddenly felt powerfully connected to these two people. It was their grandchild, she realized, that she carried inside her. What would they have thought of her?

She eventually put the picture down on the desk, which she sat at. She opened the drawers, but found very little inside except a heavy leather-bound book, with dry, delicate pages. Jane opened it at a random leaf.

February 19^th, 1888

Our family celebrates happy and prosperous times. I do not recall a time of such happiness yet in my life. Our business is fruitful, and I predict the future years to be of growing success.

Of course another thing that is fruitful at present is my Alice. Finally it seems we are expecting a child of our own, to be born late this year. God is generous to us, and we shall be celebrating by taking a holiday of a cruse and expedition along the west European and African coasts. Planning has already begun, and the trip will probably take place some time next year.

Then further on,

November 22nd, 1888

In the early moments of this morning a son was born to my Alice and I, a precious little thing he is for us to love and raise together. We have named him John, for he too will one day inherit the name of Greystoke like his father.

Jane’s heart jumped at this last sentence. John. They had named him John. John.

It sounded so odd. However, her curiosity was not yet sated, and she continued to read at a later page.

August 12^th, 1889

Our cruse has now taken us down along France, Spain and Portugal, and the sun becomes noticeably warmer with each day that we creep down the west-African coast. Our little John seems amused to ‘sing’ to the gulls while on deck with his mother, though his melodies are little more than happy squeaks and squeals. It is such a joyous thing to watch him grow. He has Alice’s eyes but I feel he is going to take after his father’s ambitiousness.

But it was shortly after this that the entries began to take on a different mood.

January 1^st, 1890

The exact day it is, I do not know. I shall call it January 1^st and count the days from here, for it has been a long time since the date has been of great concern to us, as has it been many months since I have made entry to this log. I shall give a brief account on what has happened to us in that time:

Sometime near the end of August last year (again, I know not exactly which day) The Fuwalda our fair ship went down in a blaze, from which we barely escaped. I fear that no others aboard were so lucky. The blaze must have been started by a crewmember, as there was a mutiny amongst the men, the reason for which I do not know and probably never shall. We escaped in a lifeboat and came to shore, and here we have remained in the jungle. Over the months Alice and I have built a home in a great tree overlooking the shore, and it is from there that I write now. Our ship was not expected at any port, nor have we any way of sending a message for help, as there seems to be no sign of civilization in a walkable perimeter. However we are still hopeful, for it is certain that our family will discover us missing and send a search for us soon, and we have made our abode conspicuous to any ships that pass the shore (though thus far there have been none).

But later again,

May 31^st, 1890

It is sad that it is possible, but I become more and more able each day to accept the realization that my family may not send a search for us. It saddens me to think it of him, but my brother William may be happier to inherit my title and estates in my disappearance, rather than find me. His son Cecil will inherit what my son was to inherit, and we shall be forgotten, alone in the jungle. Alice fears the savage animals, and we have on a few occasions had to defend our home from the invasion of such creatures with my gun, but my supply of cartridges runs low.

Jane paused in her reading, as a new feeling of nagging was entering her mind. What inheritance? What title?

Who was this family?

She kept one finger on the page that she read, and turned back to the very front of the book. There on the first page it read ‘John Clayton II, Earl of Greystoke’, under which was a stamp of a family shield. Jane recoiled slightly in realization.

“Greystoke…Clayton…Clayton.”

Cecil Clayton, the very Cecil Clayton that had been their guide in the jungle and had attempted to trap and sell the gorillas, was the son of William Clayton, the then current Earl of Greystoke. William Clayton, who was this John Clayton’s brother.

“But that means…”

Slightly horrified, Jane turned to the back of the book, where she found a diagram depicting Clayton family bloodline. Which indeed confirmed Jane’s terrible revelation.

Cecil Clayton had been Tarzan’s cousin.

“Oh God…” Jane said out loud, and there was a noise outside of the tree house. Jane felt the blood drain from her skin, and she sat absolutely still and listened in terror. She sat for a full ten minutes, but nothing happened.

Eventually she calmed and decided that it must have been nothing, and she recovered from the shock of her terrible discovery enough to go back to the page she had been previously reading. She didn’t even give a second thought to the fact that Tarzan was the heir to a title and many estates back in London.

The only ray of hope in happiness in our life is our little son. He alone retains his perpetually optimistic disposition, for he of course is blissfully unaware of our perilous situation. He is sitting in Alice’s lap beside the table where I am writing - a happy, healthy, perfect child.

Somehow, even against all reason, I seem to see him a grown man, taking his father’s place in the world - the third John Clayton - and bringing added honors to the house of Greystoke.

There - as though to give my prophecy his own confirmation - he has grabbed my pen in his chubby fists and with his inky little hands has placed the print of his tiny fingers upon the page.

And there, on the margin of the page, were the partially blurred imprints of four tiny fingers and the outer half of the thumb.

Jane reached the book’s last entry.

June 5^th, 1890

My rifle is down to its last cartridge. We have reinforced the door and window shutters, but I fear it will not be enough. I hear the leopards outside in the night. Oh God, how am I to protect my wife and son?

A sound again outside made Jane drop the book and rise to her feet. This time she was sure that there was something outside. She realized that she was totally unprotected. She who was meant to be protecting the little child inside her.

She had placed them both in peril.

The sound of movement on the verandah. It was coming. Jane backed away to the far wall, her hands upon her stomach as she whimpered in terror. The door moved, and Jane shut her eyes and released a short scream in preparation to meet her end.

In the doorway stood Tarzan.

Jane reeled and would have fallen, had Tarzan not rushed across the room and grabbed her. She clung to him, trembling and shuddering like a frightened deer. Tarzan lowered her down so that she was sitting on the floor, and he held her close in his arms and stroked her hair.

“It’s okay…it’s okay…shhh…”

Presently Jane’s short breaths slowed a little, and she began to sob into Tarzan’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry…” She said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, dear, it’s okay.” Tarzan repeated, and he kissed her forehead lovingly and put a hand on her stomach, and she closed her eyes and sighed. “Everything’s alright.”

For a while they sat together on the floor in quiet, as Tarzan tried to comfort his frightened protégé. Eventually she came to a point of calm where she could speak.

“I was just reading…and…”

“I know…I have read it too. I just didn’t want the same fate to befall you as them…I suppose that’s why I’ve been how I’ve been lately.”

“You’ve read it? But that must mean you know –”

“Yes. I know about Clayton.”

“I’m sorry dear.” Said Jane, quietly. She was calm now, and snuggled closer to her husband in his protective embrace.

“Clayton was not part of my family. My family is the one that raised me. And my family is you.” He said.

“I know…and I’m sorry I was angry with you dear. I understand why you’re trying to protect me. It’s because I’m not protecting her.”

“No Jane that’s not true. You do protect her, so amazingly. You protect her from all the dangers of the world by letting her grow inside you. How amazing that is overwhelms me. I’m just trying to help by doing the same for you, to help you. I want you to be safe while you’re keeping her safe.”

Jane smiled.

“That’s why I love you so.” She said, and sighed happily as her husband’s hand caressed her stomach. Tarzan’s only reply was to bend his head and tenderly kiss her upturned lips.

“Take me home darling?” Said Jane, after a while. “I must get back to being pregnant.”

Tarzan smiled.

“I have a back massage that can help you with that.” He said. Jane laughed.

“Yes, and you can make me some tea as well. Maybe we can work on your technique a little.” She replied. “Tarzan?”

“Yes?”

“Have you been thinking about what to name her?”

“No…why would anyone do that?” Said Tarzan, sounding somewhat bemused.

Jane smiled again.

“Good.”