The Promise of Rain

“What happened?” Jack asked.

The vet hung the cloth on a nail and reached for a dry towel.

“Wouldn’t eat. Not uncommon with young orphans, but we’ve learned a lot from experiences at other orphanages on reserves, so we have a good success rate. Sometimes we find them injured, like the other calf, Bakhari. His ankle was caught in a snare. We were lucky with him. But sometimes they’re so despondent over separation or loss of their loved ones. Depression. That one kills. Elephants are more humanlike than most people know. They’re very emotional and family-oriented animals. They mourn, protect, play. Ito lost his mother.”

Jack simply nodded. There wasn’t anything to say. He’d just arrived, and yet the death had had an impact on him, too. Death, especially the sight of it, gouged him deep. Kamau was right. The image of a dead parent wasn’t easily forgotten by a child. Even in adulthood.

“I hate to say it, but around here, it’s something one has to get used to,” Kamau said. “Especially if you’re planning to go out in the field with me.”

“I can handle it,” Jack said.

He turned and went back outside, hoping to catch the kids still playing, but they were gone. He wanted to see Pippa close up. Needed to. Those eyes and curls. Her adorable nose was Anna’s, but everything else resembled the pictures his parents had taken of him shortly after his adoption, even if he’d been older than Pippa at the time. He needed her to know who he was. That he was here and he’d never leave her.

His parents would want to meet her. They’d be overjoyed to find out they had another grandchild. Knowing them, they’d be more forgiving of Anna than he could ever be.

What Kamau had said about the elephants gnawed at him, but this wasn’t the same as taking a baby from its mother. Pippa was old enough to understand that her mom could visit. That Mommy was working...that Daddy was, too. Okay. So he still had things to figure out. He couldn’t take her to his lab, but he made enough now to be able to afford help. His sister didn’t live too far from him, and she had kids. She’d be there for him. That wouldn’t be so different than what Anna was doing, except Pippa would have access to great schools, a yard with swing sets, lots of friends her age, cousins and grandparents. And there wouldn’t be elephants, lions, rhinos or black mambas roaming through her backyard.

He remembered Anna’s plea, but couldn’t get over the change in her. The Anna he’d known was crouched in that pen over that baby. The one who had kept his child from him wasn’t the same person.

He headed for the tent the kids and Anna’s friend had come out of earlier. Kamau had mentioned it was like a mess hall. Maybe they were there. He’d no sooner picked up his stride when something hit him on the head. Hard. He crouched with one hand on the point of pain and the other held up like a shield.

“What the—?”

He looked up in time to see a one-legged monkey swinging away. Screeches and cackles filled the air and sounded much the same as human laughter.

Of all the insane things. The heat really was getting to him.

“Hey, Jack. Come and I’ll show you around. Bring any supplies you need,” Kamau said, as he headed to the clinic entrance. Guess that meant the coast was clear.

“Be right there,” Jack said, more interested in finding Pippa but realizing he was at a disadvantage around here. He’d get further by being reasonable.

Jack went inside, grabbed his case and carried it over. He needed to figure out how he’d get samples on dry ice back to his colleague in Nairobi within a few days, if he was extending his stay. He entered the clinic and set his stuff down on the counter where Kamau indicated a free space.

“You didn’t mention it was Dr. Harper,” Kamau said, filling a syringe. “Dr. Miller just sent another email to see if you’d made it in one piece. It said to advise you to try and remain that way.” Kamau chuckled. “Is he talking about the dangerous wildlife or our Dr. Bekker?”

Jack smiled but didn’t take the bait. “By the way, it’s a PhD, just so you know not to throw any surgery or clinic cases my way,” Jack said, changing the subject.

“In what?” Kamau asked.

“Genetics. Specifically, genetic immunity to pathogens in wildlife species. I’m working with a lab collecting genetic samples for a sort of library of endangered species, but also for studies on resistance.”

“Ah. With Dr. Alwanga, by any chance? I’ve read his journal articles.”

“The one and only.”

“Excellent. Let me know if you need anything. I have to head out on rounds—to make sure I’m not needed in the field and to pick up some of the recording devices we’ve set out for Anna south of camp. You can come along tomorrow, if you’d like, when you have your things together.”

Jack noticed a small room off the one where they stood. It looked as if it contained a lot of recording gadgets and a computer.

“Do you have an inventory of camp needs for me to go through while you’re gone?”

“It’s with Anna.”

Jack glanced out the tiny window toward the pen where Ito had been. Kamau seemed to catch that Jack was wondering if she’d be too upset to work.

“Anna is checking on some recording equipment on the north side of camp. She’ll be back soon.” He paused, as if calculating his next words. “Our Anna, she’s resilient. Stubborn, too, but strong and hardworking. She’ll have that list down to bare bones and top it off with more research data than Dr. Miller could dream of.”

“And she’ll need to work in peace, without anyone invading her space,” Anna said, standing in the doorway and looking pointedly at Jack and his supplies on the counter.

Invading her space. Invading her life.

“Anna. Perfect timing. I was just telling Dr. Harper that you’d be able to show him our inventory and requirements,” Kamau said, before excusing himself.

“Dr. Harper, is it?” Anna cocked her head. “Five years. I should have realized you’d have finished by now. You hadn’t completed your master’s yet.... How long have you had your doctorate?”

Jack folded his arms and leaned back against the counter. “About two years.”

“So what’s your connection to Dr. Miller?”

“Joint grant. Collaboration on a big study.”

“Oh.” Anna frowned and walked into the room. “But he sent you here to check on us? Your study, I’m sure, has nothing to do with mine.”

Jack scratched at his stubble, realizing for the first time that he wasn’t looking his best. The disheveled wild man who intended to take her daughter. His daughter. Dr. Miller had warned him not to make waves. How was he supposed to tell her that her research funding was in jeopardy?

“Not directly, maybe. Same department, though, and Miller is concerned about the trust money donated specifically to your elephant research running out.”

“Running out? Why? We’ve always had consistent donors.”

Jack sighed. He couldn’t lie when that was the very thing she’d done to him. Omission was the same as lying.

“Miller’s trying to raise more funds for this new research, and he’s reached out to the same people who’ve donated before. However, many have been splitting their donations between causes.”

“You’re taking my funding.”

Her tone made Jack glance back at the snake in the jar, just to make sure it hadn’t escaped. On purpose.

“It wasn’t a question, Jack.”

“I’m not taking your funds. Miller’s the department head, not me, and we don’t dictate where contributors apply their donations. But it’s the way things are panning out, and he simply wants to make sure all his projects are working efficiently.”

“Spoken like a politically correct administrator. Are you researching, Jack, or getting sucked into admin? You know as well as I do what that means. If the grant’s not enough and Miller wants to put more effort and energy into raising funds for your joint project, he will. He’s been planning this awhile now, hasn’t he? How could a respected mentor shut down his old student’s—and I thought friend’s—research project, especially if it would look bad to animal advocates and behaviorists? But if those funds slowly dwindled, or got redirected, the fault wouldn’t be directly his. Or better yet, he sends you to—what? Report back on money misuse so I can get scapegoated?”

“Anna, no one is trying to make you a scapegoat. Dr. Miller thinks highly of you, and I’ve heard him brag about your findings on pachyderm family structure and the impact natural disasters and poaching have had on interherd breeding. Those findings have been important to our understanding of genetic resistance and mutations. But you’re not just doing research.” Jack waved a hand toward the orphanage area.

Anna’s eyes widened. “You can’t mean putting a stop to raising orphans. Miller approved that and understood. There aren’t that many, and keeping them gives us an opportunity to listen to them up close, get samples and tag, hear them communicating with each other. And when they’re old enough to be moved to one of the transitional reservation areas, we let them go, knowing they’ll eventually find a new herd. But they need us first.”

Like an adoptive family. They were essentially in foster care. Jack wondered if Anna was aware of the analogy, but her attention seemed fully focused on her elephants.