Through The Storm. Rula Sinara

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СКАЧАТЬ out, tossed the pair of squealing beggars a couple of peanuts from his pocket and told Tessa and Nick to head around the corner of the building. The scent of honeyed flowers from a nearby vine wafted on the breeze as they cleared the courtyard area. The rustling shade from a cluster of fig trees welcomed them down a path that gave way to a large clearing and a chopper that had to be his. They still had to walk out to it, since it was parked a safe distance from the lodge itself. She caught Nick actually giving his head a jerk to flick his hair out of the way for a better view. The helicopter was mostly white with a dark green strip down the side and big green lettering that said AWS.

      It looked way too small for comfort. Tessa’s pulse quickened and her stomach clenched. The situation, desperation and the need to set an encouraging example for Nick were all that had gotten her through the trip here. Still, she’d left imprints on the arms of her seat during the flight over from Nairobi. But a helicopter wasn’t a commercial plane. A person didn’t feel air turbulence in a big plane the way they did in a little one. She knew that firsthand. She’d never forget the one time her sister and Allan had convinced her to go for a ride in their Cessna. It had been the first and last time. And now, knowing how their lives had ended, the idea of touring in Mac’s helicopter was hitting home. What had she been thinking?

      You can do this. Don’t think about Maria. Trust Mac. He won’t let anything bad happen. He’s been flying forever. Allan had been, too.

      “Not your kind of chariot?” Mac whispered over her shoulder. Tessa jumped and slapped her hand to her chest. Then she took a deep breath and studied the chopper.

      “It’s perfect actually,” she said, forcing a smile. “Show us why Mac Walker decided to call this place home.”

      This was it. She was in all the way. Now all she had to do was get him to agree to keep Nick. Doing so would mean swallowing her pride and sharing her worries about Brice. That also meant confessing that her life wasn’t turning out to be as stable and perfect as she’d hoped or let on. And to reckless Mac of all people. That was akin to begging for “I told you so.” As if Mac Walker weren’t cocky enough. She might as well hand him an extra serving of ego on a silver platter.

      * * *

      CONSIDERING THAT THIS trip had been her idea to begin with, Mac never thought Tessa would be the one scared to go up. Five minutes in the air and Tessa was still gripping the sides of her seat and she hadn’t opened her eyes once. Nick, on the other hand—sitting up front with Mac—had raked his hair out of his face repeatedly to take everything in. Mac resisted suggesting that Tessa loan his nephew her hair elastic.

      Maybe being up here was good for the kid. Exposure therapy. A way to remember taking flights with his parents. Kids were more resilient than grown-ups gave them credit for. Tessa, however, had turned into a more cautious person, rather than a stronger one.

      Mac spoke into his headset, giving them his usual tour spiel and pointing out the lay of the land and the view of Mount Kilimanjaro in the distance. He identified the wildlife herds they spotted, but was pretty sure Tessa didn’t hear a word. Too bad. Her loss. She was missing out on some spectacular scenery. She leaned to one side and rested her forehead in her hand.

      Please don’t barf in my bird.

      “You need an air sickness bag back there?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t make a mess. She scrunched her face but shook her head. He told her where they were kept in the back, anyway.

      “Can we land for a few minutes?” Her mouth clamped shut as fast as the squeaky words left her lips. Boy. She really wasn’t doing so well. Mac altered course.

      “Camp Jamba isn’t far. Hang in there.”

      Camp Jamba was not a luxury tourist attraction—especially not for a Tessa caliber of tourist—but it was his favorite place to get away. A small camp, nice and remote with minimal offerings. The owners, Mugi and Kesi Lagat, were an older couple who’d become good friends to Mac over the years. More like family. And if this whole trip of Tessa’s was about trying to snap a teen boy out of his funk, then a taste of the rustic life might just do the trick. Come to think of it, taking him to Busara for a day to help out with baby elephant rescues wouldn’t be a bad idea, either. Nothing like helping others to make a person appreciate their own life. The good and the bad.

      “What are those?” Nick asked, pointing at a grazing herd, several members of which sported formidable black horns that rose high off their heads in a graceful curve.

      “Grant’s gazelle.”

      “Cool. Can you see them, Aunt Tessa?” Nick asked, louder than necessary, into his mic. He turned to his aunt, who sat huddled in the back with her eyes still shut. “Oh. Never mind. You okay?”

      “I’m fine, Nick. You have fun. I’m fine.”

      “We’re almost there, Tess,” Mac added, noting the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The camp came into view as they cleared a mass of trees. He really wanted her on the ground and out of his baby before she got sick.

      He landed in his usual spot and gave them the clear when it was safe to hop out. Tessa ran straight for the bushes.

      Getting her back to the Hodari Lodge was going to be very interesting.

      * * *

      TESSA’S LEGS WOULDN’T stop shaking and they’d been on solid ground for a good fifteen minutes now. She sat on an overturned log that served as a bench near the entrance to Camp Jamba—the kind of camp that catered to granola-loving tree-huggers, from what she could see. She sure hoped they had a jeep and driver here. The thought of going back up in the air made her hands hot and head cold. We landed in one piece. We landed in one piece.

      Nick had followed Mac inside, clearly more comfortable with watching wildlife from the air than from the ground. She glanced back at the small, earthy-looking, thatched-roof cottage that Mac told her was both the main office for the camp and the owners’ home. Guests, she assumed, rented one of the framed tents, fashioned from sticks and tarps, that dotted an area about ten yards from the main house. A stone-lined dirt path led to each one and a grove of elephant pepper trees kept the area cool. The entire camp was situated on a low rise overlooking a branch of what Mac had said was the Mara River and a formidable expanse of the Masai Mara grasslands beyond.

      She closed her eyes and the fluttering shadows that danced against her lids soothed her nerves. The sounds that surrounded her kind of reminded her of the music they played in her yoga meditation class at home. A person didn’t need earbuds or music here. The air was filled with song so complex, so mesmerizing, it could never be man-made. It was magical. It soothed her motion sickness. She’d never been more out of place, yet she’d never felt so unexpectedly at peace. She was surprised that anything related to Mac’s life could make her feel that way.

      She was simply overcome with relief from having successfully fled her house in the Cape with the flash drives. She was projecting that emotion onto Mac’s wilderness. That was all.

      Wow. She’d actually taken a risk and made it this far. She had to admit the feeling was a little thrilling. A bit empowering. Mac was the last person on earth she’d ever confess that to. But it wasn’t over and risks came at a price. She knew that better than anyone.

      “Drink this,” Mac said, walking up and handing her a soda. “They’re getting more bottled water later today and I didn’t want to risk the well tap on you, even with a filter in place. The bubble in this will make you feel better in any case.” She reluctantly opened her eyes.

      “Thanks,” СКАЧАТЬ