by Rula Sinara
But it was too late for that. The last email he’d sent, a month after she’d first arrived in Kenya, was signed with plain old “Jack.” Not “Love, Jack.” Not even “Miss you, Jack.” At this point, she’d never, ever be able to trust that anything between them was real, that it wasn’t obligatory or misguided. All she needed to focus on now was Pippa, the only person she knew loved her unconditionally.
Anna left the clinic and headed for the Jeep. She needed to check the recording boxes. Hopefully, the herd would be within sight and she’d be able to take notes on how things were going with the big mamas and their children.
She was concerned about one “teen” male in particular. She hadn’t seen the bulls nearby in the past week or so, nor had she heard their calls. Teen male elephants were known to get unruly and rebellious without the guidance of older males. Much like human adolescents, they tested boundaries and needed role models, and like humans, they suffered from PTSD. All elephants who’d witnessed poachers in action suffered from post-traumatic stress. It had been documented in studies. The loss of loved ones was hard to recover from.
Anna rubbed her neck. Jack had never recovered, and for all their years of friendship, she wasn’t enough to change that. If he’d never been able to truly open his heart to her, how was he supposed to love Pippa beyond any superficial sense of duty?
Anna stepped on the gas and tried to focus on finding the bulls. If she didn’t pick up any distant rumbles on the recordings, she’d mention it to Kamau. The Kenyan government took poaching seriously, but despite heavy law enforcement by both Kenya Wildlife Services and the Masai community, it had yet to be eradicated. Far from it. For one thing, the fines weren’t high enough. And, unfortunately, southwest Kenya, where most of the elephant herds roamed, bordered on Tanzania, a corridor for poachers and their ivory. Anna bit down on her lower lip. Her bulls had to be okay.
A part of Anna was glad that she didn’t often go out in the field for indefinite hours—an arrangement adopted because of the children, especially during the first year, when Pippa was so young and Anna couldn’t bear even a few hours of separation. She was thankful to Kamau for acting in a mobile vet capacity, but regretted the gruesome scenes she knew he’d witnessed. She’d seen her fair share during her first summer in Kenya, before she’d discovered her pregnancy.
She pulled up near the first recording location and got out of the Jeep. Three more stops for the day, then she’d need to spend several hours cooped up listening, tracking and analyzing. She never slacked, but with Jack here and Miller breaking the trust she had in him, she couldn’t give anyone excuses.
How many times, when she’d encounter a teacher who didn’t seem to like her, had her mother told her that success was the best revenge? Anna had listened and studied harder. She’d finished high school at seventeen and her undergrad studies in three years. But being the youngest had had its downfalls.
Come to think of it, her age was probably why do-gooder Jack had taken it upon himself to befriend her and keep an eye on her. She thought of Haki. Were all guys like that? The bottom line was that no one could argue with an A+. Maybe her parents had been right about some things. Right now, success was her best revenge, and defense, against Jack.
* * *
JACK HADN’T SEEN Anna at breakfast that morning. Although he got to spend time with Pippa and her friend, Haki, the little boy who kept an amusingly watchful eye on him, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that Anna had skipped breakfast just to avoid him.
He coughed when the Jeep-on-steroids suddenly swerved westward, sending a spray of dust and sand around them. “Sorry about that,” Kamau called out over the sound of the engine.
Jack shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“The longer the drought, the worse it gets.” Kamau pointed toward what looked like a dried-up riverbed, where skeletal remains of some unlucky—and thirsty—animal lay along the bank. “That was a drinking spot just a month ago. We’re headed farther out to see if the watering hole is still viable. If so, there’ll be herds. All kinds. Watering holes are a source of life, but of danger and death, as well.”
Jack nodded, understanding Kamau’s point. They weren’t hoping for death, but if they did come across it, he could go ahead and get whatever tissue samples he needed. He could also try to get water samples for analysis of organisms, both harmless and pathogenic.
“How much farther?” Jack asked.
“About twenty minutes,” Kamau said, a few seconds before taking another sharp turn that had Jack grabbing for anything to keep from taking flight. Then they skidded to a stop. “Forget the twenty.”
Jack didn’t have to ask why. The stench of rotting flesh assaulted him seconds before flies, which had undoubtedly landed and sucked on things he didn’t want to think about, started pelting his arms and face. He swatted them away and pushed the sunglasses Kamau had loaned him higher up his nose to protect his eyes. Ignorance was bliss. Unfortunately, anyone who’d studied pathogenic bacteriology and virology knew flies were a vector for river blindness, among other things. He brought the crook of his elbow up to shield his nose from the putrid smell, and jumped down.
Kamau had gone with his men, rifles loaded, past a clump of dry brush into a small clearing. Jack followed, catching up just as all but one of them put their firearms down. It was important for someone to stand guard at all times. Jack had questioned the need for all the guns when they’d left camp, but they’d explained the necessary precaution. If not for human danger, then for a wild animal interaction gone bad. Several of the guns were loaded only with tranquilizers, he was told. He wished he knew which ones.
A weak squeal full of angst and pain came from one of the two forms that lay on the ground. The larger elephant, though it still looked relatively small, lay motionless and bloody, its body a deflated mass of wrinkled skin. Kamau and his men had gone to work on the second elephant. It didn’t look any older than the one he’d seen Anna cry over, but this one had two arrows jutting from its body, one piercing its trunk and the other its hind leg
Jack cursed, and on instinct, ran to help hold down the struggling infant as Kamau worked to stabilize him. Jack wrapped his arm around the leg, freeing the team to work on the wounds and secure the heavy calf for transport. Kamau had radioed in for help as soon as they arrived on-scene, but said they couldn’t wait. The calf had already lost a lot of blood and they had to do whatever was possible in the field.
“Will he make it?” Jack asked.
“Hard to say. We can only try.” The vet jerked his head toward the other victim. “No kill is worth the ivory, but that one was barely old enough to have tusks. All this for the slightest piece of ivory. This baby just got in the way. These two must have strayed, or were somehow lured from the herd on its way toward water.”
“Poachers?” Jack asked, adjusting his hold on the rough skin, gritty with dry dirt, at Kamau’s direction.
The vet shook his head. “No. Poachers these days are too high-tech. They wouldn’t have bothered with arrows. We have a rogue local on our hands. This is a farming region. The proximity to Mount Kilimanjaro has enriched the soil from past volcanic eruptions, and the ice melt usually ensures a good water supply, at least underground and along most riverbeds. But when we get a drought this bad, crops suffer. That means some farmers get desperate enough that they’ll deal with poachers. Ivory for money. Money to feed their families and keep their farm running. And so long as need shows its face, greed finds a place.”
Jack shook his head, carefully setting down the elephant’s limb. The calf had calmed considerably under the drugs Kamau had injected, and the help they’d called on, a large truck, arrived from camp. Jack stepped back to let the team strap the baby for lifting, and moved back in when it came time to shift him. Only when the calf was secured to the truck did Jack notice he was covered in blood.
Someone else took the Jeep
’s wheel on the way back. Jack sat there in the passenger seat, the calf’s cry for help still sounding in his mind. The atrocity he’d witnessed... How could anyone cause suffering or turn their backs on it? The hot sun was nothing compared to the fury burning inside him. His shirt dried from the open-air ride and hot sun, causing it to stick against his chest. He would have ridden with Kamau and the calf, but he’d have been in the way, and there was room only for those who knew how to assist medically. That calf had to live. It had to.
* * *
ANNA WAS PREPARED for the arrival of the emergency team, but not for the sight of Jack covered in blood. For a split second, she feared that he’d been injured, but the logical side of her knew, from the focus of the team on the calf, that he hadn’t been. He didn’t need her—the baby elephant did.
She hesitated, closing her mouth only when he glanced up and caught her staring. Jack looked right at her, his eyes softening, then he mouthed, “I’m sorry for this.” Sorry for the poor baby elephant or for everything else? Did he now understand why she was so passionate about her work? Why she couldn’t leave? That this was one of the many reasons she and Pippa couldn’t be a part of his life? Anna cocked her head, let their connection linger for one more wishful and nostalgic moment before turning away to help. Her future with Jack was beyond saving, but she’d do her wholehearted best to save this baby.
Hours later, convinced the new elephant was stable and doing well in Ahron’s care, Anna went to change her shirt and check on the kids, who were hard at work coming up with a name. They were always in charge of naming the orphans. It made them feel they were contributing members of the camp, plus it preoccupied them when emergencies came in. Neither Niara nor Anna wanted them to see the gory condition the elephants were often in when they arrived. The children were still too young to witness so much blood.
She walked through camp and toward her acacia tree. She didn’t typically head out there in the afternoon, but today she needed to decompress. To gather herself. She hoisted herself onto the platform and spotted Ambosi scrambling above her. Anna smiled and had no sooner settled on the edge when Ambosi’s defiant chatter jerked her forward, almost off-balance. Something flew through the air and landed with a puff right in front of Jack.
She hadn’t heard him following her. That was scary, given how sharp her hearing was. If she continued to let herself be this distracted, she’d be risking something more dangerous creeping up on her. More dangerous than Jack?
He’d shaved his face. She’d noticed, in spite of the mess he’d been earlier. He’d changed his clothes, too. Olive-green camper shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He looked so much like the Jack she remembered, only more filled in. His shoulders looked broader, straighter, but he still stood with his hands in his front pockets and his head cocked. Just like when he used to walk in on her trying to cram for anatomy in one of the classroom labs, and insist that she had to go get something to eat. As good as he looked, she doubted he had the same reasoning now. Whether she’d eaten or not wasn’t on his agenda.
“Is that the only one of those around here?” Jack asked, lowering his chin suspiciously toward the primate.
“You mean Ambosi? There are others, but he’s the one who sticks around the most. Sort of has to for survival,” Anna said. “Why?”
“No reason, other than I don’t think he likes me very much,” Jack said.
“He’s just overly protective of me. I’m the bearer of food,” Anna said, smiling up at her ally. Jack grinned and untucked his hands as he came closer.
“So, if you tell him I’m safe, he’ll stop throwing things at my head?”
Anna lifted a brow. “Who says you’re safe?” she asked.
“Come on, Anna Banana.” He took another step nearer. Ambosi screeched and climbed closer to her.
“He’ll attack like a Doberman on command,” she warned. Okay, an exaggeration, but Jack deserved it, walking up to her looking all charming and cocky like that. The nerve.
“I bet. Seems everyone here would defend you. You’ve created quite the kingdom for yourself.”
“It’s not my kingdom. It’s my cause. Don’t mock it,” she said, snapping back to reality. He wasn’t flirting. No. He was still too bitter about her keeping Pippa from him. And calling this her kingdom showed just how little he respected what she was doing. She jumped down and marched past him, but he grabbed her arm, letting go abruptly when some sort of fruit smacked him in the back.
“Hey, stop that!” Jack yelled toward the tree. Anna tugged her arm free. “Not you, Anna. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I—I intended the opposite. Just call off your mutant Doberman.”
He let go of her arm but didn’t break eye contact. Anna wrapped her arms around her waist, staring him down for a few seconds, studying him, before relenting.
“Ambosi, stop. Go play somewhere else,” she said. The monkey made a show of his teeth before obeying. “What did you come here for, Jack?”
“To tell you how impressed I am with how you saved what was—”
“Jomo,” Anna said. The name the kids had picked out for their newest orphan.
“Jomo. You were amazing, working on his trunk wound and—”
“I had to. Trunks are important,” Anna said, interrupting him. But she’d felt the heat creep up her face at “amazing,” and had to stop him. She couldn’t go there, back to when he’d made her feel as if she mattered. Back to when she’d actually believed he’d felt something for her. Back to when he’d wrapped his warm arms around her and told her everything would be okay. Nothing was okay. Not anymore. And going back was a waste of time. “Without his trunk, he’d never survive reintroduction to a herd when he’s old enough. It’s their most sensitive body part. They use it for communicating, smelling, eating, manipulating and for sucking up water to drink or mud to bathe in. That’s just skimming it. I only hope he doesn’t develop bad scar tissue from the wound.”
“There you go, avoiding a compliment. Hiding behind facts.”
“I wasn’t. I thought you’d be interested in the facts.”
“I’m interested in a lot of facts, Anna, but right now I simply wanted to tell you I’m impressed with your work, and that I’m sorry for what Jomo has been through.”
Anna stared at him, not sure what to say. Taken off-balance by his sincerity, and proximity.
“Thank you.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jack said.
She glared at him. “Don’t patronize me. I don’t care how much power Dr. Miller gave you, don’t think you can waltz in here and do that. I know you’re up to something.”
He ran his fingers back through his hair before setting his palms on her shoulders. Their warmth felt familiar and safe. But he wasn’t. She had to keep reminding herself, before her heart cracked open any more. This was a game to get what he wanted. Pippa. Not happening.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to patronize anyone. I’m just—look, Anna. Can we just backtrack? Yesterday was a shock to both of us, but we have to figure this out. We have to be able to work together and get along for Pippa’s sake.”
He was right, of course. Priorities. This was about Pippa. Anna had gotten herself into this whole mess because she wanted what was best for Pippa in the long run. She would give her life for her daughter.
She’d never meant for so much time to pass before telling him, but time and distance had a way of tricking the mind into a false sense of peace. Losing Jack’s friendship, his trust, was the price she had to pay, but it was a small one if it meant that Pippa would always know he made room for her in his life because he wanted to. Not because he had to. For that, Anna would make nice, but only as long as he didn’t fight her for primary custody.
“Fine,” she said. She took a step back, forcing his hands to slip off her shoulders, when what she really longed for was to
feel his arms wrapped around her in forgiveness. She paced, trying to focus on Pippa and not Jack. “We can be civilized. Just don’t you forget I’m her mother. You want what’s best for her? Staying with me is what’s best, Jack, and if you don’t think short visits are enough time with you, then you can...you can...move here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“MOVING HERE IS out of the question and you know it, Anna.”
Her face flinched so briefly that Jack almost missed it. For that fleeting moment, he almost thought she’d come right out and ask him—beg him—to stay. That she’d tell him how much she’d missed him and wanted him in her life. That she had faith in him as a father, if nothing else. That she’d been wrong for saying no. But that card was off the table. He couldn’t trust her now. Not after the secret she’d kept. If he knew Anna, he knew she’d do anything to protect what family she had left, not to mention her cause. Even if it meant pretending to think he was good enough for her, even if he never had been. He needed for them to get along, but that didn’t mean he had to be stupid about it.
Anna straightened her back, reminding him of how perfectly her petite shoulders fit into his palms and how much he wanted to embrace her. To reassure her. To convince her that he could do this. He’d be a good father. She turned her chin up toward him.
“Of course it is,” she said. “I was just making a point.”
“And you can make all the points you want, but the fact remains that I’m her father, and now that I know about her, you can’t expect me to walk away. Being a rotten parent isn’t genetic.”
His words sounded as hollow as he felt. His neck muscles tightened around his throat, keeping him from repeating them in affirmation. Being a rotten parent isn’t genetic. What if it was genetic? What if, for all his good intentions, he ended up sucking at fatherhood? He remembered the self-destructive patterns his biological parents and their friends would fall into. The alcohol. The drugs. The fights. They developed comfortable routines and lost sight of right or wrong or how they hurt those around them. He’d had protective routines, too. Like when he’d lock his bedroom door and hide in his closet whenever his parents had their so-called parties. He’d stay in there for hours, reading a book or studying his spelling words by flashlight. If he left Pippa behind with a promise to visit, who was to say another pattern wouldn’t take over? That one delay wouldn’t lead to another? Work would get in the way, and before he knew it, she’d be all grown up...without him. If she even survived that long. After what he’d seen in the field with Kamau, there was no question this wasn’t the place for a little girl.