Mists of the Serengeti(92)

“What if I said I want you here, always and forever?” She held her head high, eyes on the windowsill.

I swallowed. She had the guts to ask of me what I had not been able to ask of her. “What if I said okay? What if I said I’d stay? Always and forever.”

She stiffened in my arms. The tap dripped little droplets of water into the bowl.

“That’s not funny.”

“Does it look like I’m trying to be funny?” I nudged her around.

She searched my face with her coffee-bean eyes. “You can’t . . . you can’t just walk away from the farm. It’s your home, your legacy. And then there’s Goma.”

“Yes, and she kicked my ass for not coming sooner. She said if she caught me moping around the farm one more day, she’d get her rifle and put me out of my misery herself. She threatened to sell her share of the farm and be done with it, if that’s what was keeping me from you. She said she wants to go on endless cruises for the rest of her life, see the world, take Zumba classes, and dance on the decks all night, from the money she’d make off it.”

A small chuckle escaped Rodel before she sobered up. “She’s lying. That farm is everything to her. And so are you.”

“I know.” I stroked her cheek, wanting to wipe away the look in her eyes, the one that said we could never be. “Sometimes we have to let go of the people we love because we love them—because their hopes and dreams lie elsewhere. It’s the reason I let you go, the reason I never asked you to stay. And it’s why Goma is letting me go, because my heart is already with you, all day, every day. So if you want me, always and forever, here I am.”

I’d pictured her eyes lighting up when I told her. I thought she’d go a little giddy. My rainbow-haloed, all-or-nothing girl. But she just stared at me, her eyes sheening over, and it just about did me in. Bloody hell.

“No.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “Stop it, Rodel. I didn’t come all this way for a crabapple.”

She laughed, a little splutter, and wiped her eyes. “I thought you loved all my faces.”

“I do, sweetness.” I tugged her closer, my arms tightening around her. “And I want to spend the rest of my life learning them all.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. She just rested her head on my chest and let me hold her.

“I would have stayed.” Her words were muffled against my shirt. “If you’d asked, I would have stayed.”

My heart swelled with emotion. I knew she would have. She would have given it all up for me. So how could I not do the same for her?





SHE MADE SPACE for me in her wardrobe. She barely had enough of her own. I liked the way my shirts looked next to her clothes—like they belonged.

“It’s just for now,” she said, leaning back on the bed and watching me like she could read my mind. “I won’t let you do it. I won’t let you give up the farm.”

She was stubborn as hell, and she drove me nuts.

“You’re still fighting me on this?” I zipped up my empty bag and stowed it under her bed. “I show up, willing to rebuild my whole life around you, and this is what I get?”

“Hey, you got six inches of closet space. That’s not too shabby at all.”

“Oh yeah?” I grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed, so my hips were nestled between her legs. “How is that fair, considering you get more than six inches. Every time.”

“Show off.” She colored and wiggled away from me.

“Tease.” I loved that I could never tell what I was going to get with her. Sometimes coy. Sometimes bold. “I have something for you.” I walked over to the wardrobe and reached for the jacket hanging there. “From Scholastica.” I retrieved a letter from the inside pocket and handed it to her.

Her eyes lit up as she read it. It was a single sentence that took up the whole page.

“I’ve been writing to her. It’s good practice for both of us.” She pointed to an English-Swahili dictionary on her shelf. “She writes in English, I reply in Swahili.”

I knew that. I drove an hour to the post office in Amosha to mail Scholastica’s letters. I might even have encouraged it. Because when the reply came, I held it close, all the way back, hoping to catch Rodel’s scent on it.

“What about Billy?” I asked. “Do you write to Billy?”

“I’m never going to live that one down.” She laughed.

“Not if I can helpi it. But I could be persuaded to forget.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“For starters . . .” I sat on the floor beside the bed, facing away from her. “That thing you do with your fingers in my hair.” I leaned back and gave myself up to the feel of her massaging my scalp.

“So, how is Scholastica?” she asked, rubbing slow circles that made me want to purr under her touch. “Did Inspector Hamisi come up with anything regarding her father?”

“Unfortunately, no. Gabriel is now officially listed as a missing person. We’re pretty sure there was some kind of foul play involved, but we’ll never know. It breaks my heart sometimes, when I look at Scholastica. Her father was an exceptional man. I’ve always known about the terrible things that happen to kids like Scholastica, but I never did anything about it. But Gabriel, he was helping them all along, quietly, without any kind of compensation, way before any of us got involved. He probably lost his life for it, and no-one will ever recognize him for what he did. One day, when Scholastica is old enough, I’ll make sure she knows that her father was a hero. I’ll make sure she’s proud of what he did and what he stood for.”