The Promise of Rain. Rula Sinara
near his parents’ home in Pennsylvania didn’t come close to getting chased by a female rhino whose calf had ventured too far from the cover of brush. It had been only a matter of yards, but Jack’s adrenaline was still pumping strong.
As if knowing that in minutes he’d come face-to-face with Anna Bekker wasn’t enough to cause arrhythmia. Dr. Bekker. Five years, three days since she’d rejected his proposal. Since she’d refused to even consider his reasoning behind asking his best friend to marry him. A frisson of panic caused Jack to look back through a cloud of dust. What if mama rhino hadn’t given up?
“Usijali. Don’t worry.” The driver laughed. Jack turned toward him, annoyed by the implication.
“I wanted to make sure she wasn’t following us into Busara,” Jack said. To Anna.
“Ahh. We are the invaders. Not her. Don’t worry. She was just showing who is boss.”
“Very reassuring,” Jack said, wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand.
No doubt Anna would feel he’d invaded her territory, too. As for losing her and destroying their friendship, he knew that had already happened years ago. The roar of her silence had carried clear across ocean and land to the corner of his lab. His research on immunology and genetic resistance in wildlife populations had earned him a lot of respect since then, but apparently not hers. And that was fine with him. If it weren’t for his collaborative work with a researcher in Nairobi and his department head, Dr. Miller, he wouldn’t be here. But Miller had appointed him to oversee trust and grant fund distribution. He’d baited him, too, saying flat out that Dr. Bekker ran Busara and that he needed Jackson to check on Busara’s increasing expenses. That the department’s projects and expenses needed pruning if they were to adequately fund Jack’s latest research initiative.
Jack had been too stupid to resist. Too curious.
The early afternoon sun seemed to crackle against his forearm. The dry heat would have been nice but for the intense equatorial rays. He pulled the brim of his re-purposed fisherman’s hat down to shield his eyes. His Oakley sunglasses had disappeared back at the airport in Nairobi, when he’d set them down on top of his luggage while looking through his travel paperwork. Lesson learned, as was the fact that there was no overnight delivery for internet shoppers where he was headed.
They rounded a short hill covered in tall, dry grasses and shrubs, and came to a flat clearing. The driver slowed down considerably, pointing ahead for Jack’s benefit.
Busara.
Nothing but wooden, tentlike structures, two with metal roofs, and a number of enclosures to the west side of camp. More like a cross between a tiny village and a campsite. The juxtaposition of cinnamon-colored land dappled with acacia trees against the cool, snowcapped mountain backdrop was a photographer’s dream. He hoped his camera was still intact...and not missing. Maybe he’d capture one last picture of Anna to torture himself with.
An elephant blared and a chorus of raucous calls followed. The Jeep veered around the remains of a tree that looked as if it had been beaten down and crushed, then made a straight line for Busara.
The driver came to a stop near the center of camp and climbed out, but Jackson didn’t move.
She had stepped out from one of the pens and stood there, beautiful as ever, except for the look of shock—or, more likely, horror—on her face.
She’d changed, though. Still slender, yet more curved. How many times had he imagined seeing her again? How many hours of sleep had he lost to anticipation? He knew they had access to food and supplies as needed, but during his flight he’d dreamed up a ridiculous picture of her as emaciated, waiting for him to rescue her from the wilds of Africa, desperate to return home. Fat chance. She looked about as happy to see him as that mother rhino had been.
Anna shifted her feet and glanced toward one of the screened-in tents, then back at him.
Too late to run and hide, Anna, but don’t worry—two days and I’m gone for good.
* * *
THE CLOUD OF volcanic dust that had churned up around the Jeep was still settling like smoke in a disappearing act, but he wasn’t disappearing.
Jack? No way. Impossible.
Anna stared, unable to move her legs for the life of her. Her thoughts scattered like a startled flock of jacanas. The email from Dr. Miller... She knew he was sending someone to check up on them, but Jack? It couldn’t be. He didn’t work for Miller, at least not that she was aware of, and Miller would have said something. The university’s vet school and associated research departments were a relatively small community. Wouldn’t her boss have at least mentioned his name? Unless it was in the email and Kamau hadn’t thought his name made a difference.
Pippa’s laughter carried from the mess tent. Had Dr. Miller suspected all along and sent Jack on purpose? Why now? The lunch Anna had managed to break for less than an hour ago churned in her stomach. She needed to think straight. Control the situation. Prioritize. She needed to get to the mess tent. She needed to tell Niara to keep the kids inside, but she had no way to do that. Not with Jack staring her down.
“This our man?” Kamau asked in a low voice, as he stepped up behind her and waved at Jack. Anna nodded, unable to find her voice.
This wasn’t supposed to happen now. She wasn’t ready for this. Even though her dream of seeing him again still managed to creep out of hiding every sunrise, Jack standing there in person changed everything. He wasn’t here for her. Miller had sent him. That ruined everything.
The driver was busy unloading some cardboard boxes marked “supplies.” Apparently Miller had taken some initiative with the last summary she’d sent him regarding what they needed money for this month. Jack grabbed his backpack and what looked like a large metal case, and began closing in on her. Anna braced herself. Treat this like any other emergency situation. In a calm, cool manner.
Calm? With Jack, and everything his presence ever did to her heart, here in her world? Right. Calm as a wildebeest with its butt in the jaws of a croc.
“Anna,” Jack said with a curt nod. He hiked his backpack higher onto his left shoulder, then took off his hat, tucked it under one arm.
“Jack. Um...” She turned to Kamau. Get it together. She cleared her throat. “Kamau. This is Jackson Harper. Jack, meet Dr. Kamau Odaba, the other vet here.”
Jack shook Kamau’s hand.
“Jambo. Call me Kamau. I hope your trip was...comfortable,” he said. Anna did a double take at Kamau’s grin. He’d actually done it! As if a grin could get her out of Hades.
“Absolutely. The scenery is incredible,” Jack said. He raked his hair back and his tight, warm brown waves, tamed by his hat, sprang back to life. He’d always hated the curl in his hair and kept it cropped short and neat, almost military style, for as long as Anna could remember. Several days’ worth of stubble shaded his jawline, too. So unlike him. And he looked really good in these surroundings, in an Indiana Jones sort of way. Reality, Anna. Stick to reality.
“Would you prefer a hug?”
Anna realized belatedly he’d extended his hand and was waiting. She shot her hand out and shook his. No way was he getting a hug, especially not with that daring, smug look on his face.
Get it together, Anna. This is your turf.
She straightened her stiff shoulders and released a steady breath. “Welcome to Busara. It was great of you to bring along some supplies. How long are you staying?” she added, regretting how rude she sounded.
“As long as he likes, of course. Come, I’ll show you where you can stay and settle in,” Kamau said, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder and guiding him toward the tent adjacent to their mess hall. He looked back, giving Anna a “make nice” frown. She jogged after them. Niara. She had to warn Niara. She needed time to figure out how to handle this.
“Wait,” she said. “I think you should