Every Serengeti Sunrise

“You know I miss all of you and would come here more if I had time.”

Her stomach pinched. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She did miss everyone, but staying away was less stressful. Even the pressure of proving herself to her boss wasn’t as bad as trying to live up to her dad’s expectations in real time.

“I know you’re busy. Being a lawyer must keep you weighed down with things. I personally couldn’t imagine having to work in an office all day. I think I’d lose my mind. You used to love the open spaces, too. Oh, the begging to get your dad to let you spend the weekend at Busara, over and over and over.”

Maddie took a deep breath as she studied the fine crack that was making its way across her bedroom ceiling. How long had it been there? Did her parents know? Did it matter?

“Hey, you.” Pippa sat up, so Maddie followed suit. “I can leave if you need to sleep.”

“No, why? I’m good.”

“You were daydreaming. I asked you if you ever adopted a cat. You said last time that you’d think about it. If the answer’s no, then whoever this guy is who’s allergic to them better be worth it.”

“Gosh. No. To both. No boyfriend, and I don’t have any pets except for a Betta fish. He’s blue this time. My neighbor’s kid is watching him for me, since I’m here so long.”

She had kept a fish in a small tank ever since the first fish her well-intentioned dad had gotten her as a kid. She’d always loved animals and wanted a pet. In a moment of parental weakness—not a term that came to mind often with her dad—he’d succumbed to the idea. Rather, he’d decided to use bribery to get her to go to a therapy session. She’d expected a kitten or a puppy. He bought a fish. Not a big tank or a school of fish. Nope. A single, red Betta. Named Ben the Betta, after her dad. Funny how, though she’d been a bit disappointed with that first fish, she got hooked on him. When Ben the Betta died, she’d gotten another, then another after that. Each with a name beginning with the letter B. And when she left Barracuda with her brothers in Kenya and returned to Pennsylvania for college, she found herself at the shop buying another red one. She’d named this one Bilbo, and had decorated his bowl like a hobbit hole. It was sort of comforting having him around; plus, she liked feeding him.

“How do you do it? I mean, it just sounds so lonely over there. I have to admit, when you emailed and said you were coming, I thought something exciting was up. Like you were getting engaged and needed to plan a wedding and—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Pippa.” She’d have to meet a decent guy for that to happen. The few she’d even looked twice at over the years were either the kind of guys who commanded respect but were also narcissistic jerks who didn’t get her, or they were nice, decent guys...the kind that her father and brothers could flatten with one look. Not that that should matter, but there always seemed to be something lacking.

“I’m just so used to having everyone around—especially Haki, who, by the way, says hello.”

Maddie smiled and hopped off the bed.

“How is he? Or should I ask how the two of you are?” Maddie peered out her window to the garden below. She watched as Delila lifted the hem of her vibrant wrap skirt, crossed the cool grass in her bare feet and began plucking figs from a tree overhanging a couple of wicker chairs. Maddie sat back down on the edge of the bed, took off her socks and wiggled her toes. Man, that felt good. Freeing.

“Haki is the same guy you last saw. Never changes.” Pippa chuckled. “He was such a little man as a kid, he didn’t have much to change. And I think we’re getting closer. You know what I mean?”

No, she really didn’t know. Or understand. The last time she’d seen Haki, she thought he’d changed a lot. Or maybe it seemed that way because she didn’t see him all the time. Then again, Pippa knew him better.

“You think you’re getting closer? Nothing official yet?” Maddie threw her socks in a woven-grass hamper and rummaged in the bottom drawer of her dresser for a pair of loose-fitting khakis. She stripped down to her bra and underwear and added her gray dress slacks and thin sweater to the laundry, then put on the khakis and a green T-shirt. She really needed to wear these on the flight home. So much more comfortable. Her dress slacks were the most casual thing in her closet back in Philly that were decent enough to leave her apartment in. She just didn’t have much occasion to wear anything between business attire and pajamas.

“Like I said, when it comes to change, he tends to walk on eggs. Slow and cautious. I suppose there’s a comfort in the status quo, but sooner or later, he’ll get the nerve to make it official. I mean, it’s no secret we’re together and I seriously think our parents are wondering what he’s waiting for.”

“Hmm. Maybe since you both have practically lived together all your lives, he already feels like he’s married.” She opened the bottle of water on her dresser and took a swig.

“It’s not like he’s already milked the goat or anything,” Pippa said. Maddie’s water went down the wrong way, but she waved Pippa off when she jumped up at all the coughing.

“Pip, what I meant was that maybe he feels comfortable. He doesn’t have to walk on eggshells. You know how he’s all about safety and being in control. He’s also a family kind of guy. Marriage to him probably means kids, and perhaps he’s not ready for that. Or maybe he wants things to be perfect down to the last detail. You know, X amount of dollars in the bank, a life plan...predictable weather. Who knows.”

“How much planning does he need? We have a place to live. He has a career and a job.”

“If I were Haki, I wouldn’t want to live at Busara with both families if I got married. Too many people. It’s a rescue center, not a compound. So he’d need to be able to afford a place of his own. Maybe he’s saving up and wants to surprise you.”

Pippa frowned and picked at her cuticle.

“I guess, but it doesn’t make sense to leave since he works there. We could just put up our own small house, possibly where the old tents used to be. Why have a commute when you don’t have to? He already drives enough.”

“Maybe you’re right. Just give him time,” Maddie said.

Pippa hopped off the bed and gave her a hug.

“It’ll happen sooner than later, I’m sure, and when it does, you have to swear that even if you have the biggest case on your hands, you’ll be here for the wedding. Promise?”

“Of course.”

She meant it. She did. Pippa was like a little sister. Her happiness meant everything to Maddie. She took another sip of water and hoped it would wash away the bittersweet feeling that clung to her chest like morning dew on the branches of a weeping willow. She took a second sip to drown her guilt and to bury her secret as deep as the ocean she’d crossed to get here.

“Pippa, I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”

* * *

THE SKY BEYOND the valley was deep scarlet this time. Yesterday, it had been streaked with bands of carnelian and amethyst. It was never the same. Each evening promised an unexpected blend of colors. Every sunset promised change. It was Haki’s favorite time of day.

“Checkmate.” Kamau leaned back in the rocker on the front porch of the Busara house and linked his hands behind his head. “You’re losing your touch.”

Haki scrutinized the board and retraced their last few moves. He really was losing his touch. His father hadn’t beaten him in at least six months.

“I don’t see it. What happened?”

“Your knight. Three moves ago,” Kamau said, indicating how he’d created a weakness.

Haki had made one wrong choice and left himself vulnerable. He held his head in his hands for a moment, then scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw and sat back in defeat.

“I can’t believe I did that.” He picked up the wooden box that housed the chess-and-checkers set that Kamau had given him as a gift when he was only six, right after Haki found out that Kamau was going to marry his mother and become the father he never had. Kamau had taught him to play checkers even before that, but back then they used to sit on overturned buckets outside the tent that had served as the camp’s kitchen and dining area. And Kamau used to let him win. He began putting away the pieces.

“Your mind wasn’t here. I could tell I had a chance halfway through the game. Anything I can help with?”

Haki shook his head. “Just tired. Long day.”

The camp had quieted; even the baby elephants were sound asleep in their pens with their keepers, but the ebb and flow of insects crying out for their mates rippled through the air like waves licking at the parched, hot sand. Nightfall masked the harsh effects of the drought. It masked a lot of things. But Haki’s father had a way of seeing through veils, even in the dark.

“Perhaps you should have taken the day off and flown with them to Nairobi.”

“No need,” Haki said quickly. He closed the wooden case.

“I said nothing about need.”

Haki smiled and stood.

“Are you going to try to checkmate me all evening? Don’t let one win go to your head.”

Kamau laughed and pushed back his chair.

“All right. Deflect, but you know I’m here if you need to talk, or gain insight into the minds of women...or for tips on how to win at chess,” he added with a chuckle.

“Hey,” Haki said, shaking his finger at him. “Tomorrow will be the start of my next winning streak. You’ve been warned.”