Every Serengeti Sunrise. Rula Sinara
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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.”
Kamau left the screen door creaking to a close behind him and Haki caught a glimpse of his younger brother, Huru, sketching in the family room. At fifteen, an age when most kids wallowed in hormones and angst, Huru was as mellow as they came. Maybe he channeled it all into his artwork—there was no doubt he had a gift—but sometimes Haki had to wonder if names carried enough power to define a person, or if it was the emotional state of the mother at the time of naming and rearing the child that made all the difference. Huru had always had a carefree way about him. Free, just as his name meant in Swahili, or perhaps how their mother felt at his birth: married, happy and loved, unlike how she’d been when Haki was conceived in an act of violence. Haki meant justice. And there had never been a time when he didn’t find himself wanting it. Wanting those who caused pain and harm to be held accountable, wanting to be sure he’d always be the kind of honorable man Kamau was...and not like the criminal whose blood he shared.
* * *
MADDIE