by Suzanne Rock
“I had no idea.”
“No, you wouldn’t, and it seemed as if you had moved on from your cause, focusing on the plight of women in the Middle East, leaving us to fend for ourselves.”
“But why didn’t you tell me? I could have talked to my father.”
“You told me yourself that you are estranged, are you not?”
“True.”
“And when you returned your attention to my people, did you ask what you could do to help? No, you visited our country and patted the heads of the children. You gave them enough food and clothing to last six weeks and then made money posting about how horrible they were being treated.”
“The sanctuary requested more food and clothes.”
“Yes, but those are temporary band aids. They don’t really help the big picture.”
“You should have told me. I could have done something.”
“Like what, speak to your father? Since when have your little talks changed his mind?”
I started to speak, but realized that he had a point.
“No, he is as stubborn as you. Only by threats and force would he be willing to listen.”
“So you staged the attempt on my life in order to manipulate my father?”
“It worked, didn’t it? He dropped everything to come to your aid. He offered anything for your release.” He sat back in his chair. “Our intensions were never to hurt you, Tess. Things got . . . out of control. We only wanted to scare you and your father enough so that the sanctions would not go through.”
“You should have talked to me, Kami, not go behind my back.”
He let out a short puff of air and tightened his grip on his phone. “You don’t understand. My family reached out to me for help with this. Me, the one they previously shunned. I could not deny them.”
“Your family is corrupt, Kami. If you felt you could have gone to me, then you could have gone to others in Tanzania. There are good people there, you know. Not everyone in that country is so backward thinking. It was why my mother initially tried to stay there instead of running away. She wanted to help the people being persecuted there. Those who live in the city have more modern thinking. I know that there are some government officials who work with the shelter we visited who would have helped you—”
“Time’s up,” the guard said.
I sat back in my chair, stunned. “We’ll fix this, Kami. Your family might not care about you, but I do.”
The prison guard nudged his shoulder. Kami hung up the phone without saying good-bye and stood.
“You’re my friend.” I stood and slammed my hands on the table. “I would have helped you, Kami. You should have come to me.” Tears spilled over onto my cheeks. I ignored them. “You should have come to me.”
I watched the prison guard take Kami out of the room.
It was hard to put a name to the emotions I was feeling on the way out of the prison. I felt anger that he didn’t trust me, hurt that he thought so little of our friendship, and sadness that his family thought to use him like this. Most of all, I just felt tired, as if all of the life had been sucked out of my bones.
As I entered the parking lot, Max immediately broke away from the other officers he had been speaking with and made his way over.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Just get me out of here,” I whispered. “I don’t ever want to see this place again.”
Without a word, Max steered me away from the building and toward his car. He let me inside, then walked around to the driver’s seat. As he pulled out into traffic, the anxiety and the pressure of my meeting with Kami released. Dropping my head down into my hands, I let the grief come, knowing that things would never be the same between me and my best friend again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tess
We drove in silence for several minutes as I tried to collect myself. I was thankful that he didn’t try to press me or try to make conversation. I needed time to grieve. Kami had been my best friend, my only friend. Losing him felt as if I was losing a part of myself.
At the next light Maxi reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a small box of tissues. “Here.”
“Thanks.” I chuckled and shook my head as I dabbed my eyes. “Sorry for being so emotional.”
“Don’t mention it.” He glanced over at me and then refocused on traffic. “I know what it’s like to lose a friend.”
I thought about Vash, and how close they had been. “I’m sorry.” He was hurting, too, and here I was having a pity party for all of my problems.
“I know you two were close.”
“We graduated the academy together. He was my partner.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You think you know someone . . .” His voice trailed off as the traffic started once more.
“I know.” I crumpled the tissue in my lap and glanced out the window. “At least we don’t have any secret agendas. What you see is what you get.”
He didn’t answer, but instead took a turn at the next light.
“Where are you going? The hotel is the other way.”
“We’re not going back to the hotel.”
“We’re not?” I glanced around us as familiar landmarks started to come into view. “We’re not . . .”
“He was rather insistent.”
“No.”
“Tess—”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to see my father.”
“I think you should. He’s been so worried about you.”
“Everything that happened to us was because of him. How am I supposed to look him in the face?”
Max turned into a parking garage close to the United Nations and took a ticket. “Look, I’m not asking for you to make up with him. I’m just saying to meet him and hear him out. He really wants to talk to you.” He pulled into a parking space. “Who knows, he might be able to answer a few questions for us.”
“Is that what this is?” I asked. “You brought me here because you want to know how he’s involved? I can tell you. All of this was done, not so I’d shut down my blog, but so that my father would stop pressing the U.N. for sanctions in Tanzania for human-rights violations.”
“That’s not the motive I mean. We already know why Kami and Vash did what they did. What we don’t know is . . .” Instead of finishing his sentence, he pressed his lips together and turned off the car engine. “Look, just give him a chance to say his peace. Then, if you never want to see him again, fine. But he’s family, Tess. Take it from me, if there is any chance for you to have a bond with family, then you should take it.”
I stared at him, realizing how spoiled and selfish I sounded. Here was a man who had lost his father, whose older brother was undercover doing God-only-knew what, and whose younger brother had taken off with his girlfriend and hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. He was alone, and here I was complaining about seeing my father to a man who would probably give his right arm to see his. What was wrong with me? Kami must have gotten to me more than I thought.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll let him have his say just this once.”
“That’s my girl.” He bent over the divider and brushed his lips against mine. Heat burst through my middle, spreading out over my skin. When he pulled away, I couldn’t help but smile.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He took my hand as we navigated the parking lot and crossed the series of streets to the United Nations. I glanced up at the colorful flags, remembering the first time my father had brought me to this place. Back then I was much younger, not only in physical years, but mentally. I had still been under my father’s thumb and confined to our home. Back then, I had entered the building under armed guard and in the evening, like a robber in the night. My father had been too nervous about letting me go outside in the hot sun. Now it was shortly after noon, the hottest part of the day. Things had certainly changed.
Once we went through security, someone immediately greeted us.
“May I help you?” a woman asked as I removed the scarf from my head.
She was young, much younger than me, and I guessed that she was probably one of the interns. At one time, I would have been jealous of her flawless dark skin and deep brown eyes, but not anymore. Max had taught me the importance of loving myself, flaws and all, and for that I would always be grateful.
I took off my sunglasses and hood, revealing my pale skin. “Could you please tell Mr. Abbott that his daughter is here to see him?”
The girl widened her eyes. “Of course. One moment, please.” She hurried away to the front desk and whispered to another woman behind the counter. After a quick phone call, the woman returned and motioned toward the elevator. “He is on the—”
“I know where he is, thank you.” I walked over to the elevator and pressed the button.
“Are you all right?” Max asked when he caught up to me.
“I’m fine, why?”
He glanced over at the young woman, staring at us. “You were just a little . . . abrupt.”
“Was I?” I let out a long breath. “I guess I’m just nervous.”
“Hey,” He put his arms around me and pulled me close. “I know you’ve had a rough day. If I could put this off any longer, I would. Your father is rather insistent.”
I snorted and rested my head on his chest. “Yea, that’s one way of putting it.” I leaned into his warmth, absorbing his strength and trying to prepare myself for what was to come. When the door finally rang, I groaned as he pulled away and led me onto the elevator.
“All you have to do is hear him out.” He squeezed my hand reassuringly, and I nodded. The elevator doors opened once more, and we were suddenly in a long hallway.
“This way,” I said as I turned right and walked down the hall. “You sure he’s in?”
“I texted him right before you came out to the car. He said he’d be in his office.”
I nodded and stopped at one of the doors. After a quick glance at Max, I took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
“I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.”
I smiled up at him, grateful for the support. “Thanks.” I turned the knob and stepped inside. A man and woman stood at a small desk, talking. They stopped as soon as I walked in. The desk was positioned in front of a door to a larger room, and I could see my father’s familiar oak desk and chairs just beyond the entryway.
“Kitten!” My father’s features brightened as he held out his arms and strode toward me. “I’ve been so worried. Thank God you’re all right.”
“Hi, dad.” I let go of Max and fell into my father’s awkward embrace. I couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged me. It was probably the day I had graduated the university. After a long moment, I started to pull away, but my father’s grip tightened.
“Dad . . .” I started to struggle, and he reluctantly eased back and gave me a soft kiss on my forehead.
“I’m fine, dad.”
“Now you are, yes. We have been so worried.” He glanced over at the woman behind the desk, who had pulled several tissues out of a box and was dabbing her eyes. “Valerie, please hold all calls for the rest of the afternoon.” He hooked his arm in mine. “Come on, we have much to talk about.”
I slid my hand around Max’s elbow, and tugged him along with us. There was no way I was going through this alone. After we made it inside his office, my father motioned to the two seats in front of his desk. “Please.” He sat in his own seat behind the desk and leaned back on the cushioned office chair.
“I want to hear about everything that happened.”
“There isn’t much to tell.” Max elbowed me, causing me to yelp. I flashed him a frown, and he returned with an expression that reminded me of our conversation before. I was supposed to give my father the benefit of the doubt. Ah well, here goes nothing.
“I guess it started back when I decided to expand my blog. While I wanted to continue my focus on albinism in Tanzania, I realized that there were so many other causes that I could help out with as well. I made some contacts on the internet, who hooked me up with some information about life in the Middle East, particularly Afghanistan.” I glanced at Max. “I started reporting on things that were going on there.”
“I remember.” When I flashed him a surprised stare, he smiled. “I subscribe to your blog, my dear. It’s good.”
“Anyway,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable that my father was showing more interest in my life than I ever did in his. “The article about Afghanistan really opened the blog up to more people. Readers were coming to me with issues, and it was hard to pick which ones to talk about it.”
“You wanted to expose them all.” My father smiled. “Your mother was the same way. She wanted to save the world.”
“Yes.” I frowned as I thought about the posts I had written. “You read all of my blogs?”
“Every single one.”
“And never commented?”
“I didn’t need to. It was enough to know that you were making a difference. Your mother would be proud.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I looked away. “Not everyone felt as you do. There were . . . comments. Haters. People who didn’t want things to change. There was one commenter in particular who made me realize that with all of these new causes, I had forgotten the very people who had started it all, the people who I wanted to help the most.”
“The people of Tanzania,” my father said.
I nodded. “So I went back to Tanzania with Kami to see what I could do to help. Things didn’t go as planned, and Kami ended up spending a lot of time away from the orphanage. He said that he had to deal with something in his family.”
Max snorted. “I bet.”
My father turned toward him with a questioning look.
Max extended his hand. “Max Ferrari, sir. I protected your daughter while the threat was still at large.”
My father made a sound of noncommittal and shook his hand. “You will be well compensated, then.”
“That was not why I did it.”
“Nevertheless, you were protecting my baby girl, and for that you shall be rewarded.”
“Dad, please.” This was exactly what I didn’t want to happen. In the span of a few moments, I had gone from an adult to a little child, unable to think or plan for myself.
My father let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Tess. I guess some old habits are hard to break, aren’t they?”
It was then that I noticed the circles under his eyes, and the fine lines around his mouth. My father looked a lot older than when I last saw him, more tired, too.
“I’m not a little girl anymore. I can make my own decisions.”
“I know. You’re a fantastic writer, Tess, and your blogs caused me to look more closely at what was going on in that area of the world. The United Nations has been following the situation in Tanzania for a while now, and it is obvious to many of us that the country is in serious need of some reform concerning their human-rights policies. Not just for people with albinism, but other issues as well, human trafficking, forced labor . . . the list goes on and on. It was time for them to atone for their atrocities, so I put forth a proposal to impose sanctions on the country until some of these issues are resolved. It seemed to gather a lot of support.”
“Why did you do all of this?”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Why? Let’s just say that I wanted to help out a daughter who no longer wanted to talk to me. I wanted to keep her safe when she traveled into a dangerous country.” He pressed his lips together for a moment in thought. “I had no idea that there were people who’d want to retaliate against the sanctions and make sure that they never are put in place.”
I thought of Kami and Vash and their families, all of whom had fallen victim to the Wild Ones manipulative ways.
“I still can’t believe that Kami and Vash had planned all of this together,” I said. “I didn’t even realize that they knew each other.”
&
nbsp; “It makes sense,” my father said. “The Wild Ones knew that the restrictions would be bad for business, so they put pressure on both their families to make sure that the restrictions never got passed.” He let out a long breath. “I hate to say it, but it worked.”
“What do you mean?” Max asked before I could form the words.
“I mean that I have taken them off the table. Effective immediately. No sanctions are worth seeing my little girl get hurt.”
“I’m not your little girl anymore daddy. Besides, I have Max.” I took Max’s hand and flashed him a smile. “I don’t think you should stop this because of me.”
“I won’t put you in danger—”
“You don’t have to worry about your daughter, sir,” Max said. “I’ll take care her.”
I stared at him in shock.
“You will?” my father asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“She can be rather high spirited.”
Max smiled. “I know, sir, but that’s what we love about her.”
He barked out a burst of laughter. “Yes, it is.”
Did I hear that right? Did he just say that he loved me?
“I just want you to know that I’m prepared to do everything in my power to ensure her safety.”
Recovering, I turned to my father. “You see? You have to continue this. The problem in Tanzania is bigger than both of us. We can’t let a few people scare us away from doing the right thing.”
My father’s features softened. “You’re right, of course.” His phone rang, causing him to frown. “Excuse me.”
“Valerie, I thought I told you to hold all calls—” He grunted a few times, then nodded. “Very well.” He hung up and turned to us. “Let’s talk about this again next week.” He stood and motioned toward the door. “I’m sorry, but I have a very important meeting—”
“It’s okay, daddy.” I got up and threw my arms around him. “Thank you.”