“I don’t even know her name,” he said.
Anna turned off the engine. “Pippa. Not short for anything. She’s four. She’ll be five on Valentine’s Day.”
Jack scoffed. Oh, the irony. His daughter’s birthday fell on a day meant for love. Meant for couples. “Where was she born?”
“A hospital in Nairobi. Pippa Rose...Harper.”
Jack suddenly felt numb with cold, and then just as abruptly, he broke out in a sweat. He couldn’t think. He wiped the back of his neck with his hand and looked at Anna.
“You gave her my name but you didn’t bother telling me I’m a father?”
“I—I was going to.”
“When? Anna, she’s four years old! When were you planning to tell me? After something terrible happened to her out in this...this place? Or maybe you were planning to leave it up to her. Give her a name to go on and let her hunt me down in a decade or so. Nice, Anna. Really nice.”
“No! That’s not what I was planning.”
Jack waited for her alternate explanation, but none came. With palms still pressed against the steering wheel, she stretched her fingers before dropping her hands into her lap.
“She’s not in any more danger at camp than a kid living on a farm or some crime-ridden city back home. She’s watched, loved, privately preschooled and learning hands-on. Would you rather she be glued to a television or some handheld electronic device or dropped off at day care every day?”
“That’s not the point. At least she’d know who her father was. That she has one.” Jack saw Anna’s eyes dim. Unbelievable. “She doesn’t know. Does she?”
Anna shook her head, then dropped it against the steering wheel. Jack got out of the Jeep and paced. He was a father. Had been all those hours he’d spent behind a microscope or sterile hood, studying organisms so small no one cared about them unless they caused illness or death...and all along, there was a tiny life across the world, in the middle of nowhere, learning to speak, walk and... He scrubbed his face with his hands, unable to think of everything he’d missed. Unable to comprehend the magnitude of what had been dropped on him. Taken from him.
A trumpeting filled the air, followed by a throaty burr. From their vantage point he could see a herd of elephants ushering their calves along the edge of the creek bed. Family units.
“She hasn’t even asked? Wondered?”
Anna climbed out of the Jeep and walked up to him. A few seconds passed as they both watched the herd.
“I don’t think it’s occurred to her to ask yet,” she finally said.
“All children ask questions. I know.” He’d asked many as a child, but most had never been answered. Not in time, at least.
“She’s not around a lot of children. Most children’s books these days depict varied families. Her playmate, Haki, the little boy you saw, doesn’t have a father. His mother, Niara, is my best friend, like a sister to me. She’s a teacher and aunt to Pippa. We met in the doctor’s waiting room during my first pregnancy checkup. She was there for a follow-up with the cutest little newborn in tow, and I was so...” Anna looked away without finishing. She was rambling.
Was she refusing to admit she’d been scared? Jack recalled his sister’s nerves and moods, but she had had her family around. She hadn’t been alone, even when her husband was out of the country. Anna had been. But whose fault was that?
“You know, even with elephants, it’s usually the mothers who surround and care for the young. The bulls do their thing and they’re off,” she said.
“Don’t you dare project on me, Anna. That’s not a fair comparison. I wasn’t given the chance.”
“I wasn’t comparing. I was just trying to answer your question as to why she hasn’t asked about you. Making you understand it’s not personal.”
Wow. Not personal. Jack didn’t respond. He couldn’t get any words past the pressure building in his throat and ears. History repeats itself. Oh, he’d heard the expression, all right. But he’d been determined not to fall into the pattern. He’d vowed never be like his biological parents. They hadn’t wanted him in the picture, and he’d sworn to himself long ago that he’d never abandon a child of his.
“Look, Jack. I’m sorry. I am. But I need time to talk to her. I don’t want to confuse her, and your being here for a couple of days is not a lot of time. Maybe you could come back and—”
“Hold on a minute.” Jack stepped dangerously close to Anna. “Forget a few days. Do you seriously think I’d leave my daughter behind in a place like this?”
Anna had faced just about every dangerous wild animal in Kenya at one point or another, but she’d never been as terrified as now. Facing Jack and hearing those words. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of, what she had known would happen if he found out about her.
He couldn’t take Pippa. No. Way.
“Jack. Don’t talk like that. You don’t take a baby from its mother. You can’t,” she said. Her hands felt numb and she flexed her fingers.
“I’m not leaving her here. My name is on that birth certificate. I have rights.”
“The right to what? Uproot her? Scare her? Take her from the only family she’s ever known? You want to take her screaming and kicking, Jack? Is that what your father-daughter bonding experience is going to be about?”
Jack climbed back into the Jeep. “Let’s go,” he said.
“I’m not going anywhere until you agree not to do anything crazy,” Anna said, hands squeezing her hips. “You don’t even have copies of paperwork to prove she’s yours. No one will let you board a plane with her. Besides, I’d get everyone I know to stop you. The Masai have great aim,” she added, for good measure. Jack lowered his chin and raised a brow.
“Stop with the threats, Anna, and get in. I’m smart enough to do things right,” he said. She didn’t miss the dig. “We can discuss the best way to go about fixing this, but you can bet I’ll be in contact with the American embassy.”
Anna swatted an insect away from her cheek. “I, um, never filled out her born-abroad citizenship paperwork. Not yet,” she said.
“Why not?”
“It required...”
“My signature, as well.” Jack angled himself in the passenger seat so he was facing her. “You surprise me, Honest Anna.” Jack’s reminder of his nickname for her, a twist on Honest Abe, stung.
Anna’s radio static picked up, her name barely coming through, but nevertheless saving her from responding to Jack. She pressed a button on the unit hanging from her belt.
“Dr. Bekker here.”
“Dr. Bekker. You should come to the clinic. We lost one.”
We lost one. No.
“On my way.”
She pocketed the radio and bolted into the driver’s seat, ignoring Jack. She couldn’t handle him right now, and it wasn’t as if he could get himself out of Busara without her knowledge.
We lost one. They had several new orphans, Bakhari being one of them.