by Rula Sinara
I’d rather live my truth in pain, than a lie in vain.
Voices of guests laughing and talking carried through the air, none of them the voices she longed to hear. She started the ignition and headed onto the road, forcing herself not to look in the rearview mirror at the lodge disappearing in the distance, along with her heart.
A voice in her head urged her to turn around and go back. To knock some sense into him. To take the girls in her arms and refuse to let them go. To wrap herself around Dax and kiss him again. One more time. What if one more kiss would have made the difference? One more embrace. One more plea.
No. Pippa Harper did not beg. She had her pride. She deserved more. Just like she tried to teach the young Maasai girls she taught—and the twins—they were worth it. They had gifts and strength. So did she. She could stand on her own. She didn’t need the support or approval of a man.
But she did want the kind of love only two people could share. The kind that filled and fueled a person like an underground spring pouring endlessly into a river.
Maybe she simply couldn’t have it all.
The enkang came into view and she slowed her approach, coming to a full stop several yards from the thorny gate. The dust settled around her. She hadn’t brought Ivy or Fern to this one, yet. Maybe that’s why she’d decided to come here today. This place didn’t carry memories of the twins. She swiped away a tear. Who was she kidding? She’d always remember them, no matter where she was.
She waved to the eldest son who was herding goats out the fence to graze in the grass. A young mother came around the corner, carrying a bundle of sticks into the enkang. Children peered outside the gate, giggling and smiling sheepishly at her. She’d seen this scene a million times, yet today it was different. She was different. Every child, every smile and every wide-eyed hopeful—or mischievous—look would remind her of two girls who felt like her own. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and jumped down, then began unhooking the tarp.
She yelped, jumping back and slapping her hand against her chest. She stared at the two sweaty faces that popped up from underneath the blanket in the back seat.
“Oh my God. You scared me to death! Ivy. Fern. What are you doing here? What have you done? Your dad is going to be worried sick. He’s going to flip out.”
“We decided to take that chance. Don’t worry. We left him a note, as usual.” Fern climbed out and gave Pippa a big hug. She sounded confident and proud of their escape. Pippa glanced at the fading tattoo on her wrist, just to make sure she wasn’t Ivy.
“We did. The note says that we’re sorry but we couldn’t leave without seeing you first and that you’d bring us back. And that we’ve already decided on our punishments and plan to pay for any extra charges if we miss our flight.” Ivy came over and hugged her, too. A ring of red ivy circled her wrist.
“You two. I know I should be scolding you for stowing away, but the truth is, I’m so happy to see you.”
“We’re happy, too. But why would you leave us without saying goodbye?”
How was she supposed to answer that without lying or putting the blame on their father?
“The truth is, deep down, I didn’t want to say goodbye.”
“So, you avoided us instead. Just like you’re avoiding Dad, and he’s avoiding you.”
“Fern, you are one observant girl.” Pippa leaned against the bumper of the jeep and drew the girls to her sides, putting her arms around their shoulders. “It was wrong of me not to say goodbye. I admit it. Sometimes grown-ups take the easy way out. That’s wrong, too.”
“Does that mean you and Dad are going to hook up when we get back?” Ivy asked. Pippa’s cheeks heated up, and it had nothing to do with the sun.
“That’s, um, not exactly the right way to put it. Will I be brave and give the two of you and him a proper goodbye? Yes. But, girls, things don’t always work out the way we’d like. And they don’t work out for many, many reasons.”
“But the only reason that matters is that you like each other,” Fern insisted. “We saw you kissing.”
“And we’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Ivy added.
“Yeah, it’s weird and goofy. Like he’s daydreaming or lost.”
“He spaces out and can’t hear us. That’s the funny part. We could ask for his credit card and he’d just say yes.”
“And later say that he never did,” Fern said.
“Yep.”
“Plus, he’s been more relaxed, even when you weren’t there. He sat around and played cards and even went swimming with us. Until yesterday. Yesterday, he was his old self again. Not one smile,” Fern said.
“You told us we could do anything we set our minds to, and that we should always follow our instincts—”
“And our hearts—”
“So, we’ve set our minds on bringing you back together. That’s why we’re here,” Ivy said.
“It’s part of the plan.” Fern’s eyes gleamed as she smiled.
“Wait a minute,” Pippa said, standing up and facing them. “That’s not what I meant when I said you could accomplish anything. You can’t control people. Besides, what plan?”
“For Dad to marry you so he can be happy and you can be our mom. That’s what we want more than anything,” Ivy said. Ivy—the rebel who didn’t want anyone looking out for her other than Dax. She wanted Pippa to be their mother?
Pippa’s bottom lip quivered, and her nose stung. She pressed her hand against her mouth to stop the sobs escaping, but tears stung the corners of her eyes.
“That would be the greatest honor in the world, but it’s not my call. It’s not yours, either. You can’t force love. You can’t control it. It happens when you least expect it, and sometimes it simply can’t be.”
“Like with you and Dad?”
“Yeah,” Pippa said, realizing what she’d admitted to only when Ivy’s and Fern’s faces lit up. They glanced at each other and shook hands.
“Step one accomplished,” Fern said.
“What—”
“You admitted that you love him,” Ivy explained. “We didn’t force it out of you. You said it yourself.”
“You tricked it out of me.”
“Fair and square,” Fern said. “Now, step two is to get Dad to admit it.”
“We have to get him to crack. Push him to his limit so he blurts it out.”
“Like the time we collected a bowl of earthworms and put it on the table at breakfast instead of cereal. He freaked out and yelled never to bring them near him again.” Both girls laughed uncontrollably, then Fern caught her breath. “We suspected he was scared of them, but he wouldn’t admit it.”
“He’s fine with snakes. But earthworms totally creep him out. He always blurts the truth when he’s scared. That’s why we ran away with you today.” Ivy smirked and winked. Oh boy.
“This is so wrong,” Pippa said. “You have to tell him what you’re up to. You can’t do it this way. Look, let me radio the lodge and ask them to give him the message that you’re okay. Then I’ll let you help me unload these supplies and teach the kids this one last time. But after that, we return to Tabara and you both confess what you’ve been up to. If you don’t tell him, I’ll have to.”
“But—”
“No buts about it.”
“Fine.”
“Okay, then. Give me a second to radio in. You each finish removing the tarp and grab a box.” Pippa wished the satellite phones hadn’t belonged to Erebus. Surely he’d get the message...especially if Alim picked up.
The twins complied with sullen faces. But once they started passing out notebooks, pencils and storybooks to excited and grateful children, the smiles were back on Ivy’s and Fern’s faces. Their hearts were in the right place. She knew that. But how did one explain how complicated grown-up relationships were to eleven-year-old girls?
And why did relationships have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t life always be as simple as it was through a child’s eyes? The way it had seemed to be for Pippa when she was their age.
She led the twins and the other children to wooden stools and benches set up inside the cool shade of a mud-and-plaster structure that stood outside of the enkang itself. From what she knew, it had been abandoned decades ago, after a group of missionaries in the area had left. It was a slightly larger space than inkajijiks each family lived in. She’d been using it for her classes at this village. It was how she’d gotten the idea to build a more centrally located school. Pippa smiled as she watched the kids scrambling to find a spot to sit.
“Do you want to help the older kids with writing, or teach these little ones the alphabet?” she asked the twins.
A little six-year-old girl named Mina, with striking brown eyes rimmed with dark lashes, tugged at Ivy’s cargo pants. She let go and clasped her hands together when Ivy glanced down. Her beaded bracelets, which matched her crimson wrap dress, clinked together, almost in harmony with her tiny giggles.
“I want to sing with you,” she said.
Ivy grinned back and looked at Pippa. She shone with the pride of being chosen...of being looked up to.
“Okay, I guess I’m doing ABCs,” Ivy said, as she set her water bottle down next to Fern’s on a corner table and pulled up a stool. Pippa ushered the five youngest boys and girls over to where Ivy sat. Three girls between the ages of nine and eleven congregated next to Fern, who smiled as wide as a schoolteacher on the first day of class. She began doling out paper and pencils.
Pippa pulled two third-grade-level reading texts out of one of the boxes and called over the two remaining twelve-year-old girls. Their names were Namunyak and Namelok, which meant “the lucky one” and “the sweet one” in Maa. They were both lucky.
The sound of the little ones reciting their alphabet filled the tent with joy. Pippa dared to let herself live in the moment and relish every last minute spent with Ivy and Fern. Life was too short to waste perfect moments like this one.
Perfect, except for the fact that they’d be leaving today. It didn’t matter what the twins had intended to do, Dax was obligated to return to the United States. He wanted a scheduled, financially stable and predictable life. He needed to provide for the girls. He was bound by an oath to their mother. A promise to keep. Pippa understood that with every breath she had. Children had to come first. They were a priority. She wouldn’t expect any less of him or have it any other way. She only wished he had the will to try to make things work between them. The courage to love again and to not fear the unexpected...and to let her in.
She listened to Namelok as the teen read a story about a girl who climbed a mountain in order to reach the stars. Pippa listened, but she was so tired. All the crying she’d done over the past few days had drained her. She closed her eyes just for a second and listened to the comforting buzz of children reading and reciting.
This was her place, her purpose. This felt right. Yet Dax kept entering her mind. His kind face, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the way he ruffled up his hair when he got excited over data he was analyzing. Her chest squeezed around her heart, and she felt like she’d lost her balance.
No. She was fine. It was stress and exhaustion. Maybe dehydration, but she was usually careful about drinking enough water. She opened her eyes. Everyone was reading. She didn’t feel dizzy. She looked around the room. It took a millisecond to register. Less than that for her to stand up. The water in Ivy’s and Fern’s bottles. The bottles stood upright, but the water level was at an angle. It defied physics. The strings of beads covering the entry swayed back and forth, but there wasn’t so much as a breeze. Her instincts screamed.
“Children let’s go outside now. Everyone. Quickly.”
She felt it again. The ground moved. Someone outside in the village yelled. Fern’s arms shot out to her sides, and her eyes widened. Ivy grabbed Mina’s hand.
“Namelok and Namunyak, help get the little ones outside. Now!”
They ran, grabbing hands and rushing for the exit. Two of the children began to cry. Ivy and Fern were near the back of the room trying to pick them up.
“Hurry, leave. I’ll get them,” Pippa called out. She tried to get to the kids, but the earth rippled, sending her careening sideways. Ivy screamed and held on to Mina as the desk slid down and hit her in the side.
It happened too quickly. The shaking, the screams, the stools falling and sliding. The walls crumbled like dry bread, and the air filling with dust. She couldn’t see them. The twins and Mina and Adu, one of the little boys.
“Pippa!”
That was Fern. Adrenaline surged through her. She had to get to them. She scrambled up, but the ground rumbled and shook like a maniacal beast, then undulated, lunging her forward. Wooden poles framing the roof fell like matches from an opened box and pain engulfed her.
Then everything went dark and still.
* * *
DAX CROUCHED OVER the young boy he’d pulled away from the pool when the tremors began. The kid had been standing too close to falling debris and too far from his parents. He was okay, though. Dax quickly scanned the area as the shaking subsided, took the boy to his parents and reluctantly accepted the frantic mother’s embrace and father’s gratitude.
He needed to find the twins and Pippa. Panic twisted and burned at his core and sent his pulse scattering. He needed to get to them now.
He didn’t have to check his equipment to know this wasn’t the epicenter. There wasn’t much damage here. His guess was maybe a four or five at the lodge. God he wished the twins hadn’t pulled a stunt and run off. He wished all three of them—Ivy, Fern and Pippa—were right here with him and not out there where— He had to stop thinking like that...expecting the worst...but the twins weren’t the only ones with intuitive connections. Parents had them, too.
So did soul mates.
Something shifted in him. Dax. The thought...his name...came as unexpectedly as the quake. Pippa. He knew something was wrong. Fern. Ivy. His gut screamed.
He ran toward Alim, who, along with other lodge staff, was trying to calm and reassure the guests. He was the one who’d given Dax Pippa’s message about the girls stowing away in her jeep. He’d have an idea of how to find the village they’d gone to. Those enkangs would turn to rubble after anything stronger than a five. Their structures wouldn’t hold. Or what if they had been in the jeep and it had overturned? He swiped his forehead.
“Can you radio her?” he asked, gripping Alim’s arm. No explanation was needed.
“I did, Mr. Calder. No response. Her family radioed in to check on her because they could not reach her, either. She isn’t answering.”
“How far is this place? Can you get me to them?”
He no longer had the company-assigned driver. He didn’t even have a vehicle. He and the twins were supposed to have already left by now. On a plane. In the air, where they wouldn’t have felt the quake. But Pippa wouldn’t have been with them. And he wanted her safe, too. He wanted her, period. In their lives. A part of their family. He’d let the earth swallow him whole if it meant Pippa and the twins would all be okay.
“An hour, but I can make it in less. Follow me,” Alim said, running to where a lodge-marked SUV was parked, unscathed.
Alim floored the gas pedal and headed west. West. Deeper into the Great Rift Valley. Closer to where the risk of plates sliding beneath the earth’s crust would be greater.
They sped along a fissure that he knew had nothing to do with the drought. The fissure was only a few inches wide, but stretched far ahead. Alim crossed over it and tore through the expanse of savanna grasses to their left.
Dax covered his face with his hands, then ran them through his hair.
They had to be okay. They had to be. This was why he had studied earthquakes.
Not to work for oil conglomerates, telling them where to drill and destroy and ravage the earth. The very idea made him sick.
What if he’d never abandoned his research? Could he have predicted this quake? Or even others by now? Could he have stopped the unexpected? He’d never know.
He hadn’t predicted falling in love with Pippa.
God, he loved her. He’d had every guard up, every sensor and warning system on alert, determined never to fall in love again, yet he’d never seen it coming.
Pippa.
Meeting her was the most wonderful, unexpected thing that had ever happened to him. And now he had no idea if she was dead or alive or badly injured.
The twins were his life and Pippa had been right. He’d taken the girls for granted. Just because they were nearby didn’t mean he was being present for them. And all the hours he’d spent away from them in the name of protecting them had been wasted. He’d had every system and plan and rule in place, yet none of it had worked, and the more he tried, the more they had rebelled. If they weren’t okay right now...
“We’ll find them. They are going to be okay,” Alim insisted. Dax nodded but couldn’t speak. They hit another rut, and he was nearly thrown from his seat.
“We need to get to them, Alim, but we can’t risk a flat.” They’d never find Pippa and the girls if he and Alim got stranded out here themselves. He glanced at his watch. They’d been driving only thirty minutes. It felt like hours.
This was all his fault. He’d pushed Pippa away. And in doing so, he’d inadvertently pushed the girls to run away. He’d devoted his life to fighting disasters that tore families apart, and all along, he had been fracturing his own. Isolating himself. Protecting himself, albeit emotionally, instead of loved ones.
You did this, Dax. If they’re hurt, it’s your fault.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose, and when he opened his eyes, he saw it. Pippa’s jeep was in the distance. Most of the village huts looked crumbled and the fence around the enkang was no longer circular in shape. Even over the engine noise, he could hear the wails of terrified children and the cries of the herds scattered nearby. Men and women, in their bright garbs, were easy to spot, scurrying about, surveying the loss. At a glance, the damage was much more severe here than at the lodge. Dax swallowed hard. All these people...all these children...and no shelters. No homes. And it wasn’t over. There would be aftershocks. Possibly, almost as damaging.
