Through The Storm. Rula Sinara
a buffer between them and Brice. But she wouldn’t get any closer to confirming her suspicions out here.
Maybe she should have told Mac what was going on last night in his office...where a computer was available. She drank the last sip of her soda. No. Her instincts had kept her from doing so. She needed to trust her gut. He wouldn’t have listened then. She wouldn’t have been able to dish the note-writing excuse to him. Just as he’d pointed out that more modern conveniences would have made running away easier for Nick, the same could have applied to Mac. He could have acted in defense before listening to anything she had to say about Nick or Brice. Maybe she needed to trust her gut more often.
The aroma of spices and the warm char of open-flamed cooking drifted past her, a solid reminder that she’d been too nervous to eat breakfast this morning—a saving grace considering how she reacted to not being on solid ground. She went inside to thank the Lagats for letting them stay, but soon realized she needed more fresh air.
The flaming Serengeti sun burned directly overhead and a chicken, of all things, ran past her, squawking like it was being chased by an invisible predator until it found the safety of its flock under a fig tree. Maybe her mind was also making up things to fear about Brice. Did she subconsciously want out of her marriage? Was she looking for reasons to leave?
There was no point in procrastinating any longer. She couldn’t let Nick hate her. She couldn’t let him think she didn’t want him around or that she had priorities greater than him. True, she had to make a decision to leave him with Mac, but not for the same reasons her parents had left her alone so often. They were so busy with their aquatic research that they couldn’t focus on their children, too. She finally understood how important their work was, but back then she’d been like Nick. Just needing someone to be around...a safety net to catch her as she muddled through her teens...a home and family like all the other kids had. As a child, she’d wanted to feel secure and not have to worry every night—especially during storms—that one or both of her parents might not come home.
She wanted to be that safety net for Nick, but right now, the only way to keep him safe was to pull that net out from under him. And hope Mac was there to catch his fall.
The air vibrated with the trumpeting of elephants in the distance, as if they’d heard her thoughts and were trying to share their wisdom about motherhood and the delicate cycle of life.
If only she spoke elephant.
As a child, she spoke to her adopted cats and sometimes believed they understood her. They’d give her a sign: a lazy blink or a sedating purr that rumbled deep against her chest.
She needed a sign now.
The roar of a lion had her turning quickly toward the path to the cottage. Mac stood on the front porch, leaning against the wooden log that supported the thatched overhang, watching her, the piercing blue of his eyes intense and knowing. Maybe it was the way the Kenyan sun had left its warmth on his skin or how stubble shadowed the hard lines of his jaw, but the way he looked at her sparked a smoldering ache in her chest. She swallowed hard to extinguish it. If only Mac hadn’t wanted to get away from home so badly. Maybe they would have eventually become friends. But he’d wanted to escape and explore and she’d wanted—needed—stability.
And now she didn’t even have that.
Was this her sign? That the one thing—the one person—who would make her and Nick’s life whole and balanced was the one man she’d turned away from years ago? The one man who knew how small, insecure and insignificant she used to be? She stared down at her feet as she walked up the path toward him.
Life could be so cruel.
“HEY. DON’T TOUCH that yet.”
Mac gave Nick a warning look and didn’t break eye contact until his nephew pulled his hand away from the basket of fresh, warm chapati.
“What? It’s there to eat, isn’t it?” Nick said, eyeing the traditional flatbread like a hyena with its tongue lolling out. The boy was acting spoiled, like these were free-for-all breadsticks at an Italian restaurant, but this wasn’t a restaurant. They weren’t campers paying for a safari stay. Those meals were served outdoors. Come to think of it, Mac didn’t think he’d ever been just a guest here. They were dining in the Lagats’ home. Very dear friends who deserved respect.
“It’s there to eat after Mugi and Kesi join us and you thank them for the meal. It’s called manners,” Mac said, glancing at Tessa to read her reaction.
“We don’t always have sit-down meals,” she explained. “Brice isn’t usually home for dinner because of work, and Nick is so hungry after school that he stuffs himself then. And then again about every hour after that,” she added, smiling at Nick. Her attempt to soften him up with good-natured teasing went right over his head.
Mac looked pointedly at both of them. He remembered well the consuming hunger that would hit him as a teenager during bouts of raging hormones or growth spurts. It had to be the closest a guy could get to understanding pregnancy cravings. It hadn’t been unusual for him to eat an entire roast down to the bone—by himself—and then get hungry again soon after. So he got it, but that didn’t excuse bad manners or lack of respect.
Nor, as far as he was concerned, did living on riches. He’d seen one too many kids come through Hodari Lodge with families who could afford the place and then some, acting careless and entitled. No nephew of his was going to act that way. Losing one’s parents wasn’t an excuse, either. Life wasn’t always fair, but a kid had to grow up understanding how to handle punches like a man—with morals, honor and dignity.
Wow. He was sounding like his own father.
There had to be some give and take, though. Mac leaned back in his chair and rested his palms on his khakis. Who was he to judge Nick’s behavior and attitude when he’d willingly left him with Tessa and Brice? In a convoluted way, he was just as guilty as Brice when it came to putting a lot of value on money. As a millionaire investor, Brice wasn’t around to be the quintessential family man because making money was his priority. And Mac wasn’t around because he needed to make money to live and help support his nephew. And given Air Walker Safaris’ financial state, Mac knew full well that money was important. However, some people didn’t have their priorities straight. Need and want were very different things.
But Mac’s ideals and values were essentially meaningless if he wasn’t around to instill them...to set an example. Even if staying in South Africa was best for Nick on so many levels, in the end, all Mac was doing was sending his nephew money. He wasn’t really in a position to judge Brice, or his own father, for that matter. Or Tessa.
He rubbed his jaw against his shoulder and stretched his neck.
“Yes, well, consider this a lesson in manners. The Lagats are like family to me. It doesn’t matter that they just met you. You’ve been invited into their home because anyone I care about they care about, too. That’s the kind of people they are.”
Nick slumped back and looked away from both of them, arms folded and face flushed. The rims of his eyes turned pink. Poor guy was fighting for control. He’d never asked for any of this. Not losing his parents. Not being here in the middle of nowhere. And certainly not being juggled between the only two people in the world he had left.
The last time Mac had been in the same room with him, Nick had not quite hit thirteen yet and he’d retreated into himself. He’d changed a lot since the days after the funeral. It was like he was ready to discover himself...but he didn’t know how. And his safety net was full of holes. Apparently, so was Tessa’s. Good thing Mac didn’t need safety nets. Not having to rely on anyone had been his most liberating discovery as a young man. Maybe that’s what Nick had to learn.
Tessa was nibbling on the corner of her lip. She shook her head ever so slightly as she studied the back of Nick’s head. Everyone was feeling disappointed and frustrated. No one felt in control.