Every Serengeti Sunrise

He nodded as if that all made perfect sense. Then again, he was married. She’d seen the boutique heels his wife paraded around in whenever she dropped by the office. Shoes Maddie could never afford. Maybe it did make sense to him. She curled her toes in the knockoffs that were doing absolutely nothing for her confidence.

“Better take a more sensible pair to Kenya. You won’t be walking in the city,” he said.

“About that. With all due respect, I can handle both cases. I’m the one who brought the Clear Lake discrimination situation to our attention. I did all that research. The people involved know my name and face and—”

“And you’ve done a remarkable job with it. That’s in part why I personally recommended you for the Kenya case. Listen...” He folded his arms and sighed. “I understand your frustration. I was at your stage in my career once, more years ago than I care to mention. Everyone wants a high-profile case, or at least one that’s bigger than the rest. The Native Watch Global case may or may not be big in terms of headline news, but it’s significant in terms of humanitarian impact. When I interviewed you out of school, you made it clear you were interested in human-rights law.”

“I am.”

“Good. Because NWG is counting on us. What’s happening with Kenya’s native tribes—the Masai, in this case—is very similar to the type of land loss or encroachment our own Native Americans are still suffering. And on top of the tribe’s desperation, a more recent proposal was submitted to increase punishment for defending their crops against destruction by wildlife. Our barristers at the Nairobi office are currently inundated with other cases. Of course, they’ll still handle any actual court appearances with this one, as required by law there. However, they need the extra manpower in gathering firsthand research to counter this proposal before it goes to the Kenyan cabinet for approval.”

Maddie placed her hands on her laptop and nodded. Manpower. More of the same work, only overseas. It was like being a ghostwriter. A behind-the-scenes ghost lawyer. And they were getting off without paying for a hotel, to boot. She took a deep breath and was assaulted by the overuse of air freshener in the old building.

This case was absolutely a critical one. She couldn’t argue with that. She understood the cause and loved Kenya and its people. She really did. But the difference between being a lowly junior lawyer in the US and being one in Kenya was that her family was over there. She loved her family, but an entire month under the same roof? She hadn’t lived there since she was eighteen. A whole month under the watchful eye of her overprotective dad, her medical doctor mom...and her brothers.

Chad had made their dad proud by following in his footsteps and joining the marines. Ryan would be headed to college soon and said he wanted to study medicine like Hope. Maddie felt a bit sorry for Philip, Hope and Ben’s only child together, whom Maddie adored. He was only fourteen, and she could tell from his emails that he was feeling the pressure of keeping up with everyone else. As for Maddie, on one level she knew her accomplishments were great. She’d worked hard because she always felt the need to prove herself. Success meant getting out from under her dad’s umbrella. Sometimes his protectiveness and worry came off as critical no matter what she did. And now, he’d get to see firsthand how she was barely getting by as a lawyer, let alone excelling. She’d handled shorter holidays in the past with skillful maneuvering around certain topics of conversation. And those trips had been about kicking back. But a monthlong work trip was enough for everyone to catch on to the fact that she was basically a nobody. And then, heaven forbid, the career advice would start pouring in.

She shifted in her chair and put her hands in her lap, noticing belatedly that she’d left sweaty handprints on her matte laptop cover. Mr. Levy had probably noticed it, too. Could her day get any worse? She wiped her palms against the scratchy tweed of her skirt. The bottom line was that she’d been given her orders. Nine in the morning and she was already spent. She felt like a teenager all over again, getting told what she needed to do with her life. What she needed right now were her sweatpants, slippers and some ice cream.

“I understand, Mr. Levy. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that to win, you need to have the right person on the case. I’m not putting you on this one just because of your dual citizenship. I want you on this because you finished your undergraduate studies in three years, graduated law school at the top of your class and do everything meticulously—down to the way I’ve seen you water the ficus tree by the break room that everyone else forgets about—and you’re fluent in four languages to boot.”

“Three, sir. I only know a few words in Swahili. I wouldn’t call myself fluent.” She was fluent enough in French and Spanish, though not as comfortable with them as English.

“Well, that’s a few words more than I know. More importantly, you have an understanding of the people and culture. Their needs. The cultural dynamic. We need someone to actually get out in the field. And, yes, you have family who can take you around to gather information, but if you need help with that, let us know. Visit some of the Masai villagers who are being essentially pushed off their land. Find out their views and concerns regarding potential new punishments imposed on them. Get to the heart of it all, but I don’t want emotion—I want solid facts that’ll stand up in court. You have a tendency to think outside the box. I like that about you. Let me put this bluntly—if we win this case, you’ll be number one on our list the next time a promotion opens up.”

A jolt akin to the one she got from the first sip of a hot, salted caramel mocha latte coursed through her. He’d actually taken note of her work and effort? Top of their list? Her cheeks warmed. She’d had no idea he had that level of confidence in her. Everything in her seemed to shift. This was it. This was her big break. She pushed back a lock of hair that had liberated itself from her bun.

“Thank you. Mr. Levy, that—that means a lot to me. I won’t let you down.”

“I hope not.” He stood to leave. She followed suit, but gave her right hand another subtle wipe on her skirt, just in case he extended his. He didn’t. “Helen should be emailing you some files for review on the case. Easier for travel. Other than that, there’s only one thing left for you to do. Go home and pack.”

“Yes, sir.”

She gathered her things and walked out of the conference room. She could do this. The assignment, she could handle. If she felt too smothered at her parents’ house, she’d go spend time at Busara. After all, she’d be out there anyway to visit tribal villages. And seeing Pippa again would be incredible. No doubt she’d see Haki, too. The last time she’d seen him he’d gotten so much taller and...older. He’d always been mature for his age, but there had been something different about him. She’d also noticed how his relationship with Pippa had changed, even before Pippa had confided that she and Haki had become more than friends. They were an item. A couple. It was a beautiful thing, it really was, but something about it unsettled her. Probably just fear of being a third wheel.

Maddie took a deep breath and let it out as she stepped onto the sidewalk outside the building. Yes. She could stay with Pippa if she needed a break from Nairobi and her father. Pippa, though she was almost five years younger than Maddie, had always been the spunkier one when they were kids. She never let anyone pick on Maddie back then. She still always had her back.

Maddie would always have hers, too.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_9390dc4f-7485-524e-9d25-0f895a7d28d1)

IF THERE WAS ever a prime example of man versus nature, the disaster Haki was witnessing was an arrow in the bull’s-eye. Good thing there was no bull in sight—this time. Haki trekked through trampled earth and mutilated scraps of what had been rows of sorghum. Understanding Swahili and a few of the tribal dialects was an asset to his work, but all he could do right now was nod his head and let the Masai farmer continue to vent. He’d slip in peace talks at the right time. He was just relieved that the elephant bull hadn’t been caught “red-handed.”

He assumed it was a bull because one such bull had been reported missing that morning from a conservation area dedicated to transitioning teenage elephants into the wild. It was the same group that took on the orphans rescued at Busara once they were too old to stay there. KWS had been trying to locate that missing bull all day. Haki was hoping the elephant would be found alive.

Just a few weeks ago, another farm had suffered a raid by a hungry elephant in search of food. The farmer had killed it in retaliation. Had KWS not found the body in time, the farmer might have even tried selling the tusks to make up for income lost from crop destruction. And that would have fed into the illegal ivory market, which would in turn have encouraged more poaching, and the vicious cycle would go on. Late-summer droughts made everyone and everything, including vegetation and wildlife, desperate. And desperation had a way of pushing a person’s moral boundaries.

Crops could be replanted. Fences could be mended. But driving a species to extinction—eradicating it because of either anger or greed—was an irreversible, unconscionable act.

Haki understood the plight of farmers in the region. He understood that they had children to feed. But killing was not the answer. If the tiny oxpecker bird could ride the back of a massive rhino in peace—trading the benefit of a bodyguard and free meal for keeping the beast’s hide free of insects—then surely humans could figure out a way to live symbiotically with other species.

A group of women swathed in a geometrical-patterned fabric of oranges and reds, with equally colorful beads adorning their necks, stood watching expectantly. One held tight to a toddler. That had to be the farmer’s young child. The one he said had been playing near their garden when the elephant came stomping through.

Haki wiped the sweat off his forehead with one khaki sleeve, then turned to two of his crew near their medical unit. They’d come out to assist, in case an injured animal was found, after a bush pilot spotted the damaged field and reported possible trouble in the area. Haki’s team had been nearby and the KWS vet assigned to this area was on another emergency call. Luckily, the only casualties here were the crops—not that that didn’t have an impact on the farmer.

“Let’s help him repair his fence before we leave,” Haki said. The fence wouldn’t hold up if the elephant returned for another meal. Even the electric fences used to block off large areas of land reserved for farming weren’t always enough to keep elephants from roaming in from the forests and reserves. But it was all he could do to temper the situation for now.

“We’ve been called out. Another aerial tip. A young elephant stuck in a mud pit. I have the coordinates. KWS still has their area vet unit working with a bull they had to dart. Infected hip wound. No time to build fences,” his medical unit driver called out.

Mud pit. That was one of the repercussions of drought. Haki braced his hands on his belt and stared at his worn and weathered boots. No time. Ironic, given that the savannah was all about time...the cycle of life from dawn until dusk. Yet they were constantly running out of it in an attempt to save lives here, to stop the unique beauty of this place from disappearing.

“Okay. Let’s go,” he said, signaling the medical team to get a move on. He called over to Lempiris, the farmer, and his older sons, who were beginning to clean up their planting rows.

“I’ll try to return to help you with the fence,” he said, in Maa. He would try, on his own time. Good fences make good neighbors. Wasn’t that the expression? Unfortunately, it didn’t translate into elephant.

Lempiris squatted down and scooped up a handful of soil near his sandaled feet without looking up. He probably didn’t believe a man like Haki would care enough to return. Haki was the enemy. The one who only cared about the elephants. And Haki couldn’t blame him, because in all honesty, if this man had killed his intruder, his family would be watching KWS arresting him at this very moment. Haki would have made sure of it.

* * *

MADDIE HOISTED THE strap of her laptop case higher on her shoulder and picked up her pace when she spotted her mom and brothers through the airport crowds. She waved until they saw her and waved back.

The twenty-hour flight, including a stopover in Zurich, had exhausted her, but seeing their faces gave her a second wind. At seventeen, Ryan towered over their mom and even Philip was an inch or so taller than the last time she’d seen him. And at fourteen, he still had some growing to do. Hope was a beautiful sight with her bright smile and kind eyes. She wore the orange, floral-print scarf that Maddie had sent her for her birthday, and dangling coral earrings to match. Hope wasn’t blood-related, but she was their mother to the core, just as Philip was their brother. Blood had nothing to do with how much they loved each other or how family was defined.

“Mom, guys! It’s so good to see you.” Maddie collapsed into Hope’s arms first. She clung on a few seconds longer and let herself feel welcome.

“Mmm, you smell so good,” Maddie said. Hope hadn’t changed her perfume for as long as she could remember and there was something so comforting about a mother’s scent. Maddie and her brothers used to love it when Hope dabbed her perfume on their pillows at night if they were afraid of bad dreams. Somehow, it had helped lull them to sleep, a reminder that they were safe and being watched over.

“Maybe you’re smelling mandazi. I asked Delila to make them as a special dessert tonight.”

“Are you sure you weren’t just using me as an excuse, Mom?” The donuts had been her mother’s favorite treat since she was little. Delila, their housekeeper, had told Maddie so. She’d been the family housekeeper since Hope was a baby, born with a heart defect. Hope’s parents—both doctors with demanding schedules—needed help at the time. They’d also hired Delila’s husband, Jamal, as the family driver. The two had been part of the family every since. After Hope married Ben and the entire family moved to Kenya, Hope’s parents had insisted that it was time for Delila and Jamal to help the next generation. They began splitting their time between the two homes and were loved dearly by everyone.

“She made us come along out of fear that we’d eat them all before you guys got home,” Philip said.

“You mean you didn’t come because you missed me?” Maddie gave him a big hug and then reached up to hug Ryan.

“What have you been eating? I’m supposed to be your big sister.”

Ryan grinned and patted the top of her head.

“Karma, for all the times you bossed me around.”

“Right.” Maddie chuckled. “I only have one suitcase and I’m ready to get out of here. I’ve had enough of airports. I was barely able to sleep on the flight over. Here, Mr. Karma. How about carrying the heavier one?”

He easily lifted the bag she’d broken her back carrying and then grabbed the second one Philip was reaching for.

“Hey! I was taking that one,” Philip said. “You’re such a show-off.”