The Promise of Rain Read Free Page A

face-to-face with Anna Bekker wasn’t enough to cause arrhythmia. Dr. Bekker. Five years, three days since she’d rejected his proposal. Since she’d refused to even consider his reasoning behind asking his best friend to marry him. A frisson of panic caused Jack to look back through a cloud of dust. What if mama rhino hadn’t given up?
    “ Usijali. Don’t worry.” The driver laughed. Jack turned toward him, annoyed by the implication.
    “I wanted to make sure she wasn’t following us into Busara,” Jack said. To Anna.
    “Ahh. We are the invaders. Not her. Don’t worry. She was just showing who is boss.”
    “Very reassuring,” Jack said, wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand.
    No doubt Anna would feel he’d invaded her territory, too. As for losing her and destroying their friendship, he knew that had already happened years ago. The roar of her silence had carried clear across ocean and land to the corner of his lab. His research on immunology and genetic resistance in wildlife populations had earned him a lot of respect since then, but apparently not hers. And that was fine with him. If it weren’t for his collaborative work with a researcher in Nairobi and his department head, Dr. Miller, he wouldn’t be here. But Miller had appointed him to oversee trust and grant fund distribution. He’d baited him, too, saying flat out that Dr. Bekker ran Busara and that he needed Jackson to check on Busara’s increasing expenses. That the department’s projects and expenses needed pruning if they were to adequately fund Jack’s latest research initiative.
    Jack had been too stupid to resist. Too curious.
    The early afternoon sun seemed to crackle against his forearm. The dry heat would have been nice but for the intense equatorial rays. He pulled the brim of his re-purposed fisherman’s hat down to shield his eyes. His Oakley sunglasses had disappeared back at the airport in Nairobi, when he’d set them down on top of his luggage while looking through his travel paperwork. Lesson learned, as was the fact that there was no overnight delivery for internet shoppers where he was headed.
    They rounded a short hill covered in tall, dry grasses and shrubs, and came to a flat clearing. The driver slowed down considerably, pointing ahead for Jack’s benefit.
    Busara.
    Nothing but wooden, tentlike structures, two with metal roofs, and a number of enclosures to the west side of camp. More like a cross between a tiny village and a campsite. The juxtaposition of cinnamon-colored land dappled with acacia trees against the cool, snowcapped mountain backdrop was a photographer’s dream. He hoped his camera was still intact...and not missing. Maybe he’d capture one last picture of Anna to torture himself with.
    An elephant blared and a chorus of raucous calls followed. The Jeep veered around the remains of a tree that looked as if it had been beaten down and crushed, then made a straight line for Busara.
    The driver came to a stop near the center of camp and climbed out, but Jackson didn’t move.
    She had stepped out from one of the pens and stood there, beautiful as ever, except for the look of shock—or, more likely, horror—on her face.
    She’d changed, though. Still slender, yet more curved. How many times had he imagined seeing her again? How many hours of sleep had he lost to anticipation? He knew they had access to food and supplies as needed, but during his flight he’d dreamed up a ridiculous picture of her as emaciated, waiting for him to rescue her from the wilds of Africa, desperate to return home. Fat chance. She looked about as happy to see him as that mother rhino had been.
    Anna shifted her feet and glanced toward one of the screened-in tents, then back at him.
    Too late to run and hide, Anna, but don’t worry—two days and I’m gone for good.
    * * *
    T HE CLOUD OF volcanic dust that had churned up around the Jeep was still settling like smoke in a disappearing act, but he wasn’t