The Promise of Rain

by Rula Sinara

  “You know you can find care for the elephants, and the animals at this park are the ones who were about to lose their home. A man needed to be with his parents. It all makes sense. This could be your next project. Your research at Busara is essentially over. You don’t even know if you’ll find funding,” he said.

  “How perfect for you. Was Miller in on this, too?” Anna rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, then pressed her fist to her chest. “Busara is more than research. It’s a rescue. It’s my life...and Pippa’s. I could never walk away from it. If I had money to invest in a place, I’d be putting it in Busara, fighting poaching and saving those dear, helpless babies. I don’t want any animal anywhere to suffer, but those ones are my responsibility, Jack. I don’t walk away from those who count on me or need me. I came here. I trusted you. And this is what you go and do? Pretend you’re taking Pippa to the park to play?”

  “It was about taking Pippa to play, and making her happy. This idea came up after I suggested the park, not before. Pippa needs to come first. She’s a child, and having her parents spread across the globe isn’t fair to her. Not when there’s an easy way to have us both nearby. She comes first, Anna. Pippa does.” Jack sliced the air between them with his hand, before running it back through his hair.

  Anna stopped pacing and stared at him. “Don’t you dare make me feel bad for caring, or imply that I don’t put her first. Why do you think I came here? Just because my heart is in my work doesn’t for one minute mean I don’t put Pippa above all. I would give my life for her and I’ve never put her second. I would have given anything as a child to have the kind of life she has at Busara. If you were putting her first, you would’ve put your savings into her future or into the only home she’s known—not that I would ever take a dime from you—instead of squandering it on a place you won’t even know what to do with.”

  “I didn’t squander. I invested. In all of us. And I’m not some poor street kid,” Jack said, his underlying reference quite clear. “I’ve been a bachelor—through no fault of my own—with a good income and no real expenses until now. And against my will, Pippa’s education has been paid for. So I did put my savings in her future—by trying to make sure she’d have her mother around.”

  Anna dug her nails into her scalp and let out a frustrated growl that could have challenged Pippa’s animal calls.

  “Jack! Don’t you get it? You bought a park! An entire park without even discussing it with me. How could you do something so stupid?”

  “Because you make me stupid!” Jack yelled back, flinging his hands in the air.

  “What?”

  “No. That’s not what I meant. I mean you make me do stupid things.”

  “That’s so much better. Great to know we bring out the best in each other,” Anna said. She felt so deflated, disappointed and...dead. Feelings she’d promised herself she’d never experience again when she’d first left for Kenya, in the wake of her parents’ divorce and Jack’s hollow attempt at proposing.

  Anna understood where he was coming from right now—she did. But why couldn’t he understand that she wasn’t some prop to move around just so he could have Pippa? Had he ever understood her? Had he ever cared?

  She didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. All she wanted was Pippa in her arms and the warmth of Busara around them.

  Pippa.

  The little monkey in the middle.

  Anna walked over to Jack’s man chair and sank into it. “I’ve killed myself trying to make right choices, and I’m finding out sometimes they don’t exist. And you find that out too late,” she said.

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’d like to go get Pippa now,” she stated.

  He didn’t speak, but began buttoning his shirt as he turned toward the bedroom.

  “There’s only one thing I do need from you, Jack.”

  He scoffed bitterly and stopped in his tracks. “What’s that?”

  Anna’s eyes burned, but she managed to gather herself. In spite of everything, and given that she’d kept Pippa from him all these years, this was the hardest sacrifice to ask for. Anna could cope with many things, but everyone had a limit. She wiped her face on her sleeve and frowned. Her head was pounding in alternating waves of hot and cold.

  “I need you to understand that I can’t let Pippa live here. I’d do anything to make up for not telling you, make up for all you missed, but not that. Anything but that. I need her with me. Busara is her home. She’s still so young, Jack. She needs her mother.”

  Jack walked across the room and braced his hands on the edge of the kitchen table, his back to her. He shook his head but didn’t say anything.

  “Please don’t fight me on this,” Anna said. She got up and took several steps toward him. “She can come visit you and spend summers here, or maybe stay here during our rainy season. She’d have plenty of time to—”

  “No.” Jack jerked around and Anna’s heartbeat stumbled. “That’s not enough. Life here will be better and safer for her. She stays with me. I’ll pay you back child support, that’s a given, and you can have two weeks to let her say goodbye and get used to the idea of being here. After that, it’s up to you. We can settle this between us or bring in the lawyers.”

  * * *

  DROPPING ANNA AND PIPPA off at the airport for their scheduled flight back to Kenya left Jack feeling messed up. So messed up that the last set of instructions he’d left at the lab had his tech calling his cell phone in total confusion. Good thing Jack had answered it. He cringed at the thought of what would have been wasted had he not picked up. Lesson learned.

  He really needed to get back on track. He needed to adjust his schedule for Pippa, but after that, he needed to put in his hours and make sure his research stayed on target. He had a career to maintain. He was a parent. He had responsibilities. Including a massive real estate purchase looming. Man, he’d been so careful about the paperwork in the envelope that day, yet of all things, she’d answered his house phone. He scrubbed his jaw. He needed to stop wasting time thinking about Anna.

  I don’t walk away from those who count on me or need me.

  Who had she really been talking about? What was he trying to do? Guard against abandonment? Prove life here was good enough? Prove he was good enough? Or care for his daughter?

  They’d barely spoken after the argument. The car ride to his parents’ place had been silent, as was the ride to her mother’s, except for talking to Pippa. Both had managed to keep up a pleasant front around family. But now, sitting in his parents’ kitchen, because trying to get anything done at the lab was futile, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

  He grabbed another peanut butter fudge brownie off the plate on the kitchen island and shoved it in his mouth in one bite. His mom pulled another tray out of the oven. He sat on the same backed stool he had as a kid. One of two. The other had been Zoe’s, but now Maddie and Chad used them. This kitchen held history. Generations of Harpers would build memories here. Good memories. He was going to have to find a matching third stool for Pippa and, come to think of it, one for Zoe’s new kid once he or she outgrew the high chair.

  He watched his mom put a new tray in. She never stopped at one batch. She always made enough to pack some for Zoe, the kids, him and half the neighbors. When he was a kid, these brownies had appeared every time he came home upset after school, as if she had mood-sensing elves in the oven.

  Jack hoped the thought-sensing ones were on leave, because he had no intention of telling her he’d gone under contract on a zoo. A man had his pride.

  “I don’t get it,” he said.

  “Get what?” his mom asked. “Love?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said, stuffing another bite in his mouth. He gulped. “No, what? Who said anything about that?”

  His mom smiled as she sliced a grid pattern into the done batch. The aroma e
scaped along the knife’s edge. Man, those brownies smelled good.

  “Who indeed. Certainly not you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jack asked, stealing the last cooled brownie off the plate before his mother took it for reloading.

  “It means it’s about time you manned up and said it. For crying out loud, Jack, love isn’t a four-letter word.”

  “It was the last time I saw it written,” he muttered.

  “Wise guy. When are you going to let go and say it?”

  “Say what?”

  “Love! In all these years, you haven’t once said ‘I love you’ to any of us.”

  Jack frowned and dropped his last bite on his napkin, suddenly losing his appetite. “Sure I have,” he said.

  His mom raised her brows. “Have you, now? Sometimes I think you seriously believe you’ve said it. Up here, perhaps.” She pointed to her head. “But the words don’t make it out your mouth, Jack. You’ve shown it. Sweetie, in so many ways, you’ve shown it. I’m not faulting you that, but you’ve never brought yourself to say it. Not since your parents died.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes at the mention of them.

  “You’re my parents.”

  “Of course we are. I couldn’t have been blessed with a more extraordinary son. You know what I mean. I’m sure you love us all. I know you must love your little girl and I’m pretty sure you love Anna and always have, but I’m not certain you know it. I’m not even sure she knows it, or believes it.”

  “Of course she knows it.” Wait a minute. Had he just said that? Didn’t logic dictate that if he thought she knew it, then he must have been feeling it? His brownie overload threatened a comeback. Everything he’d ever felt for Anna had gone so far beyond friendship, caring, respect and simply knowing he was happiest when she was with him. She made him strong, always had. But he’d tried showing her. Hadn’t his friendship and support meant anything to her? Didn’t actions speak louder than words?

  Jack reached for the plate. This time his mother pulled it back.

  “I—I proposed to her. Doesn’t that say something?”

  “You did?” His mom took her hand off the plate abruptly, sending crumbs scattering across the counter.

  “Twice. And she said no. Flat out.” He raised himself a few inches off the stool, just enough for his long arm to reach the plate, and stuffed another entire brownie in his mouth all at once. He’d deal with antacids later, and maybe run a few miles.

  “Well.” His mom wrinkled her forehead and set the empty tray and knife by the sink. The plate of brownies was piled high. Like Mount Kilimanjaro. Where had that image come from? He was losing it. “Let me guess. You proposed without saying ‘I love you.’ Mind you, that’s just a wild guess.”

  Jack looked at his mom. Guilty as charged. But it didn’t matter, did it? He and Anna were close. It was understood that they were important to each other.

  “Jack, what did you expect?”

  “I told her we could get married and raise Pippa together. It made perfect sense. What I expected was for her to say yes. She said no.”

  “Where did I go wrong?” his mom said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She took off her apron and hung it on its hook inside the pantry door. She took a brownie for herself and sat on the stool next to Jack. “What about the first time you asked?”

  “I asked her after she graduated. After her mom told her the truth and we—you know. She said no because she hasn’t believed in marriage since her parents’ divorce.” Jack covered his face, then raked his hair back. He really was an idiot. Anna’s perspective was slowly coming into...perspective.

  “That doesn’t sound like the Anna I used to hear about,” his mom said. “The one I watched the other day with the faraway look on her face. She’s hurt. Guarded. Afraid. Like someone else I know. I think she believes in marriage more than either of you care to admit, but you told her you wanted to get married for Pippa, not for her. And to think you earned a PhD.”

  Jack looked at her in surprise. His sweet mom had taken a stab at him in Anna’s defense.

  “Jack. Get over it already. You’re about to lose what you’ve always wanted, and it has nothing to do with that lab you hide in. If you can’t say it to your father, sister or me, I understand. I know you love me anyway, but you need to tell her. Marriage is sacred. It’s about love—not some formula or duty. Prove to her that you believe that. That you feel it.”

  Jack got up and went to the fridge for milk. Why were the words so important? His biological parents had said them. They’d said “Love ya, Jack,” every time they wanted him to do something or wanted him out of the way. “Love ya” meant “get your own cereal because Mommy has a hangover.” It meant “sorry, but no TV tonight because grown-up friends are coming over.” And Jack, as little as he’d been, knew that meant drugs. He’d gladly hidden in his room. In his closet with a book. “Love ya” meant “thanks for not bothering us.” Empty words. Because people who loved you didn’t leave you. They didn’t go kill themselves because you weren’t enough to make them happy.

  Actions speak louder than words. Was he the only person around who had taken that lesson to heart?

  Or maybe his mom was right. He was afraid. Afraid that if he said those words, then the real love, the love he’d been surrounded with since his adoption, the love he had felt from Anna, would disappear, just as his biological parents had. Dead. His life would become empty, as it had been before. It was feeling empty now, with Anna gone. Emptier than ever. And it blew his mind how nothingness could be so painful.

  He shut the fridge without taking the milk out. “It doesn’t matter anymore. After what I’ve done, she’ll think I’m saying it to convince her to marry me because of Pippa. Again. And she’s made it clear that she won’t leave her work in Busara. I know nothing I say will change that. And my work is here. For Pippa’s sake, I need to make sure I have a steady income and insurance.”

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

  Jack shook his head as he wrapped four brownies in a napkin. Maybe it was the chocolate or the sugar. Whatever it was, it was hitting him hard.

  He wouldn’t want her to change her mind. He’d tried so hard to get her to stay, for selfish reasons. If she did, she’d be miserable. She didn’t belong here, and if he cared about her, he couldn’t expect that of her.

  But love could be such a twisted thing, because Pippa mattered, too. He needed her to be here. And he understood Anna belonged there.

  He didn’t want to deal with lawyers and fights. He didn’t want to put Anna through that. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to remain friends, if that’s all it could be. What he needed was to find a way to convince her that Pippa would be better off with him, without destroying anything left between them.

  * * *

  JACK SLOWED DOWN and looked for the town house complex with three blue spruces flanking each side of the entrance. He was going on recent memory, having dropped Anna and Pippa off at her mother’s the night before they left. He spotted the entrance beyond the traffic signal, and waited for the light to change. If anyone could help him reason with Anna, it would be her mother. She didn’t like him much, he got that, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who came close to caring about Anna and Pippa as much as he did.

  “That’s not why I’m here,” Jack said out loud. “That’s not why.”

  He was crazy, talking to himself, but he couldn’t shut his mind up the entire way over. That guilty voice accusing him of taking advantage of her mother’s emotions, knowing full well how badly she wanted her daughter and granddaughter back in the States. This was wrong. No. He was doing what was right. He was preventing a battle that would only trap Pippa in the middle and rip Anna apart. Wasn’t he? No. You’re not playing fair. Stop.

  Jack passed the light and turned into the complex.
He parked at the unit on the far end, with the plain patch of grass in front and the small, concrete slab patio surrounded by boxwoods and azaleas on the side. This was it.

  Jack walked up to the front door and rang the bell. He’d noticed from a distance that the patio door was open, but he wasn’t comfortable enough with Susan to go around the side entrance unannounced. He rang again. Still no answer. Two bundles of morning newspapers lay off in the corner by the door. That didn’t make sense. She hadn’t picked up her paper in two days?

  He knew she was home. The open side door, the mug and pulled-out chair at her bistro set. Jack scratched his neck, then slipped a finger behind the collar of his sweatshirt and gave it a stretch. Something indefinable in the pit of his stomach told him to forget formalities.

  He walked around to the patio. An album lay open on the table. A baby album opened to an old photograph. Jack angled his head to get a better look. Anna, with her clean, natural beauty, cradling her baby brother. Another photo was of her mom in the same position. They must have taken turns, Jack realized. Had someone else, like her dad, been there to take the picture, all three would have been in it. But he hadn’t been there.

  Jack remembered how, after the funeral, time with Anna became more and more scarce. She was always busy at home. Always helping her mom out. It wasn’t until they’d grown even closer, when she was in vet school, that she’d confided in him about her mom’s mental health.

  Jack moved the mug that was holding down a loose, overturned photo. Anna and Pippa. It must have been taken the night she came to dinner. A wave of ice went up Jack’s back and the hair on his arms prickled.

  “Sue?”

  He reached the patio door in one long stride and pushed the screen out of the way.

  “Sue!”

  Jack went cold. He was a boy again. Standing in his bedroom doorway, looking out at the living room. His parents lying on the floor. His mother’s eyes half open in an empty stare, the needle still in her arm. His father slumped across the coffee table. There was white powder, vials...