Harlequin Heartwarming May 2016 Box Set: Through the StormHome for KeepsThe Firefighter's RefrainTo Catch a Wife

by Rula Sinara

  “You didn’t believe me,” she whispered back, not wanting their voices to carry. “You let Ben make it sound like I was an accomplice. You didn’t even try to defend me. You just stood there. If you knew me at all, you know I’d never participate in animal cruelty. Being rich doesn’t make me heartless or materialistic.”

  She was no longer whispering and didn’t much care.

  Mac set the plate down on a small end table flanked by two director’s chairs just outside her tent. He moved one of the chairs closer and took her hand, pulling her gently toward the other chair until she sat. Then he let go. She folded her arms, safe from his touch.

  “Listen to me, Tessa. He needed to ask those questions. He warned me he would and asked me to not interfere. He was also keeping an eye out for hints that you were being blackmailed or coerced. Look, the guy was a special-ops marine and works with top officials at the US embassy. He has traveled with them to meet with delegations from KWS in places like China. The embassy has been supporting projects to combat wildlife trafficking and poaching in Kenya and elsewhere. Tess, he’s our ‘in.’ He can help us. I trust him.”

  “But you don’t trust me.”

  “Did I want to hear your answers? Yes. I won’t lie to you about that. Despite what you think, living out here doesn’t make me a reckless risk taker. It makes me cautious and deliberate. A survivor. Yes, I know you from when we were younger, but how much of our adult life have we actually spent together? Can you blame me for wanting to see how you handled the questions? The thing is, you’re a survivor, too. You just don’t give yourself enough credit. And you’ve done your share of not trusting me.”

  “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have brought Nick to stay with you.”

  “If you trusted me, you would have contacted me and told me you couldn’t keep him right from the start.”

  “You would have said no before we got here. You’ve been quite clear that he doesn’t fit into your life.”

  “Be reasonable. Where is he supposed to go to school? Down at the river? The kid’s afraid of shadows.”

  “If you wanted to raise him, you’d figure out how. Look at Anna and Jack. They live in the middle of nowhere, too, yet they’re raising a family just fine. I’m sure they have homeschooling plans set up for their kids,” Tessa said.

  “That’s the only kind of schooling they’ve known. I’m not about to isolate a thirteen-year-old right when his social life is supposed to take off.”

  She splayed her hands and took a moment to respond.

  “Fine. So you’re saying I should find a place to move on to with Nick and start from scratch as a single parent? Have you seen how he reacts to me?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” Mac scrubbed his face, then looked at the moon. He closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know what we should do.”

  “So what happens now?” she asked, her voice tired and hushed again.

  “We agree we can trust each other.” He softened his tone and took her hand. “We agree we both love Nick and want what’s best for him. That means that, whatever happens and wherever any of us are, we keep in touch. We share what’s going on. We talk.”

  Her eyes shimmered in the moonlight and she nodded.

  “Because you must know that I’d give my life to keep you and Nick safe,” Mac said.

  She closed her eyes and tears spilled from the corners. She reached up to wipe her cheeks but he beat her to it.

  “Me, too. I want you both happy and safe,” she said.

  “We figure out how to give Nick the best life we can give him.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “You eat your dinner,” he said with a quirk of his lips.

  That made her let out a stunted laugh. She picked up the plate and took a bite of chapati.

  “Agreed,” she said, mid-chew.

  His eyes tracked her lips, then he quickly looked up and cleared his throat.

  “No matter what happens, we agree to be friends,” he added.

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “Friends.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TESSA PINCHED A wooden clothespin and secured her shirt to a line strung between two trees. She reached into her pocket and pulled out another pin. She was wearing one of Kesi’s embroidered blouses. She’d packed nothing but one spare set of undergarments and an extra shirt in her backpack when she’d left home. Luckily, she hadn’t stashed her backpack at the Hodari Lodge. Nick, on the other hand, had left his. Kesi surprised him by sewing him a shirt just like Mugi wore, only considerably smaller, so that his could be washed.

  “I don’t like that they’re not back yet,” Tessa said.

  “Don’t worry. Mugi is very careful.” Kesi dunked a bed sheet into a large rubber tub of soapy water and scrubbed it between her hands, shifting her hold every few rubs. “He won’t take him far. It’s good that Nick learns about the plants and dangers. Let him get exposed.”

  Tessa couldn’t help but glance down the path they’d taken that morning. Mac had actually gone on a flight round after getting a call from one of the research camps north of them. He wasn’t back yet, either. She and Kesi had been doing everyday chores around the camp. Tessa had felt ridiculous when she admitted she’d never done laundry in a tub, nor had she ever harvested food from a garden, but she’d assured Kesi she wanted to help out and learn. In return, Kesi had admitted that when they first moved out here, she had a lot to learn herself.

  “I’m just worried about wildlife encounters,” Tessa said.

  Kesi slopped the sheet into an adjacent bucket of rinse water.

  “Mugi is armed and trained as a guide. And he’s fully aware of dangers, so I promise, they’re relatively close by. He takes guests out all the time.”

  “What if they ran out of gas?”

  “He has a tank in the back of the jeep. And a radio, my dear. Nick is probably having more fun than he ever has. He’s a teenager. They get bored.”

  Nick had been in the worst mood that morning. He wasn’t a morning person to begin with, but he was in a rare slump. Glum. Irritable. Hormonal...if Tessa had to guess. He’d been doing so well. Maybe Mugi had been right. A little excursion would do him good.

  “I guess. Maybe he was going through computer game withdrawal earlier. That has to be as bad as caffeine withdrawal for me,” Tessa said.

  Kesi laughed as she squeezed the sheet into a figure eight and handed it to Tessa to hang.

  “I think all three guys had this planned. Escaping while the housework is done.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. You and me, we’re not folding any of this. Not if they want dinner. I have my ways,” Kesi added in a sly tone. “Notice that we haven’t done the bathrooms yet?”

  Tessa smiled. Kesi was one to be admired.

  “Thank you for all your help today,” Kesi said.

  “It’s the least I can do. Whatever you want done, say the word.” Tessa had tried offering her some payment for their stay, using the only currency she had changed for the trip up, but Kesi had refused, insisting that she and Nick weren’t ordinary guests and that Mac always did them favors, anyway.

  The jeep’s engine rumbled louder as it approached.

  “Thank goodness.” Tessa let out a breath as she clipped the far end of the sheet and hurried toward the dirt path Mugi was coming down. He pulled to a stop and shook Nick’s hand before they both climbed out.

  “Hey, Nick. How’d it go?” Tessa smiled with her hands on her hips. He didn’t smile back.

  “Fine.” He walked right past Tessa and over to where Kesi was finishing up a pair of pants. Tessa frowned at Mugi but he seemed surprised by Nick’s behavior.

  “Thanks again for the shirt,” Nick said pleasantly enough—to Kesi.

  “You’re very welcome. It looks
good on you.”

  “Got any chapati to snack on?”

  “There’s a covered dish inside on the counter. Help yourself.”

  “Leave me some,” Mugi said, walking up. “I’m starving.”

  “Just a snack, you two. You’ll ruin your lunch.” Kesi stood on her toes and gave Mugi a kiss. “Did you have luck with spotting?”

  “Ask Nick. He’s a natural out there.”

  Nick? A natural in the wild? Was this reverse psychology or what? Tess tried to keep a straight face.

  “We saw herds of elephants,” Nick said, raking his hair back and tucking his hands into his pockets. “And a pride of lions napping under an umbrella tree in the distance, lots of different birds and elephants eating sausages.” He grinned at Mugi.

  “Elephants don’t eat sausages, do they?” Tessa asked. She was pretty sure they didn’t.

  “You’re so gullible, Aunt Tessa. They’re not real sausages,” Nick said. “They’re this giant fruit elephants love but that are poisonous to us.”

  “I was pointing out which plants were edible and which were poisonous. It’s good to know,” Mugi explained.

  “We have a saying here,” Kesi added. “The worst place to stop and rest is under a sausage tree. If the fruit doesn’t fall on your head and kill you, the stampede of elephants running to eat them will. The fruits look like long sausages but they can weigh five to ten kilograms.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Tessa said. “I’m impressed, Nick. You’ll have to tell me more later. I’d like to learn stuff like that.”

  “Right.” Nick smirked and walked off to find food.

  “What did I do?” Tessa asked Kesi and Mugi.

  “Nothing. He’s hungry. Low blood sugar triggers bad moods. Not that they need a trigger at that age. He was fine until we got here,” Mugi said.

  “You know...” Kesi wrapped her arm around Tessa and led her toward the kitchen door. “He probably feels safest with you when he needs to vent whatever is frustrating him. He knows you’ll love him unconditionally. With us or with others, he has to control himself.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. His teachers kept saying he was doing fine in class, no behavior issues, but then he’d come home and be so rude. Nothing I did was enough. It hurts.”

  “I was his age once,” Mugi said. “My advice? Pretend he’s pregnant. He’ll get over it. But it’ll take closer to four years than nine months.”

  * * *

  “ARE YOU SURE you don’t want to try this? I have spare supplies,” Kesi said, holding her brush in the air. Tessa popped the rest of the fresh fig she’d been eating into her mouth and savored its nectar as she shook her head.

  Mac had called in letting them know that he was detouring to respond to a call regarding a couple of hikers who had wandered into an unsafe area without a guide. Apparently, they’d waved frantically at a tour pilot flying overhead, but there was nowhere for a plane to land. Standard rescue was called in, but Mac was familiar with the spot and knew he’d get there faster from where he was at the time. He was doing what he was born to do. One of these days, Nick would be old enough to go up with him on potentially more dangerous calls like that. He’d have the chance to see if it was his calling. She could see it now. Team NickMac. Oh, to be at that young age when your life was ahead of you and you had that virgin opportunity to map it out and discover your path. Tessa wished she could be guaranteed no more wrong turns in hers.

  “I like watching you paint. It’s relaxing. You make it look so easy.”

  Tessa held her legs out straight in front of her and turned her ankles for a needed stretch as she watched Kesi brush color across a paper canvas. She gazed at the scenery beyond the river, then back at the canvas. Kesi really was capturing a certain ethereal essence with her watercolors. Kesi was all heart and soul and it showed in her work.

  “It lowers my blood pressure,” Kesi said. “I crumpled up plenty of attempts in the beginning, but the longer we lived here and I found time to practice, the more pleased I became with the results. There’s something to be said for experience and enjoying what you do. My guess is, for you, that would be writing about fashion, so I’m sure you know what I mean.”

  Did she? Tessa wasn’t so sure she’d describe writing her fashion column as a passion. It definitely didn’t lower her blood pressure. Sometimes the incomprehensible trends raised it. Now, that last article she’d tried giving Kat...that had raised her pulse as she typed it. But that was different. Invigoration, not stress.

  “I suppose,” she said.

  “I hear people in fashion get a lot of pattern and color inspiration from nature.”

  “Yes, but I don’t particularly like it when they take those colors and patterns right off an animal’s back.”

  “That, I agree with,” Kesi said. “Do you like going to fashion shows to come up with what you’re going to write about? Have you been to any in cities like London or New York? Watched the models on the runways? I always imagined those events would be a high-stress frenzy.”

  “No doubt. Actually, I haven’t been. I do watch videos of some of them, but it’s easy enough to gather information online. I can do my research and figure out what to write from the comfort of my own couch.” She’d always thought of that as an advantage, but the minute the words left her mouth and Kesi’s brush stopped, causing an unintentional bleed of azure, she could hear the ignorance in them.

  “Really?” Kesi turned around and wrinkled her nose. “I had pictured you getting to travel a lot. I suppose I made assumptions when I imagined your life following the fashion industry.”

  “I do go shopping and try out some of the trending items,” Tessa said in her defense. Shopping was a form of experience, wasn’t it? Kesi sighed and went back to painting.

  “You know, I took painting in school. This was before I went the architecture route. But I was told there was nothing fresh about my work. Nothing unique enough to sell. So, I applied my love of art to something more practical, like architectural sketches and designs. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy my work. I did. But after moving here...living here...feeling and breathing and tasting this place... I had the urge to paint again. I’m not my own critic, but if my experience hasn’t made a difference in the artwork, it certainly has in the process. I used to try to bring things to life on canvas. Now I know that only life itself can instill that illusive quality into art...whether painting, photography...or writing. Think about it. How does one convey an emotion or image they’ve never felt or seen with the same depth and layer as someone who has?”

  Tessa wasn’t sure whether she should be grateful or offended. She frowned and sucked the tip of her fingers to get rid of the stickiness from the fig. A sun-ripened fig straight off the tree wasn’t the same as one from the grocery store. They tasted and even felt different. Was she like a store-bought fig that had never basked in the sun or absorbed its heat? She stood up.

  “Have you even read any of my columns?”

  “I was curious and looked them up online after we first met and Mac mentioned what you do.”

  Okay. Offended it was, then. She was so not in the mood to be judged. She forced a smile and resisted asking Kesi how many paintings she had sold.

  “Tessa, your work is good. That’s not the point I’m trying to make. I’m simply saying live a little. You’re still young. Mugi and I didn’t have that epiphany until we were much older.”

  “I understand. I do. But a person doesn’t have to experience death to write about it, do they? Or heaven forbid commit murder in order to write a bestselling mystery novel. Or what about the news? The people reporting it every night haven’t experienced every story.”

  She wished she could retract that last one the minute she said it. She’d made Kesi’s point. She wasn’t the reporter in the field, the one interviewed from the front line
s or with the surf crashing at their ankles right before a hurricane’s landfall. She was the one sitting in a comfy seat behind a desk. Nothing she wrote or reported came from firsthand experience. She’d always come in second. Second born. Second in her class. Second to her husband. Second in work.

  Tessa had only known her a matter of days, but Kesi had the ability to make someone feel like they were hanging around their mother, sister and friend all wrapped into one. And that had both positive and negative sides to it. Sometimes a person got advice and opinions from her mom or sister whether she wanted them or not. But Kesi was filling a void, too. As different as Tessa and Maria had been, they were still sisters. Maria had been the only person she’d done mundane, comfortable things with like sharing clothes or hanging out in pajamas. After she’d gotten married, most of her “friends” were merely acquaintances, usually the wives of Brice’s friends or business associates. Katia was her closest friend, but Tessa often found herself holding back and respecting the fact that Katia was also her editor. Tessa never discussed things like off-days in her marriage or frustrations with the male mind and ego when she and Brice had an argument. Then again, she hadn’t discussed those things with Maria, either, because her sister’s opinion of Brice wasn’t glowing to begin with. Anyway. All married couples had spats. Right? No one discussed them. Everyone out there had perfect, envy-worthy marriages—or at least they pretended to. It wasn’t like Tessa not sharing that level of privacy with anyone mattered.

  How much of a front could she put up with Kesi?

  “No, I suppose you’re right,” Kesi said, going back to painting.

  Her tone wasn’t convincing.

  * * *

  “WHERE’S NICK?”

  Mac found Tessa resting in a wooden lounge chair in the shade at the edge of camp. Far enough from the river for safety but close enough to soak in the view. The same spot where Mugi and Kesi had been sitting his first time here. Kesi was seated nearby, working on her painting. They both turned at the sound of his voice.

  “What do you mean? He was gathering firewood for tonight with Mugi,” Tessa said.