Paige had already changed for the night, washed her face, and brushed her teeth, when a knock sounded at her door. She knew from the knock who it was. She didn’t want to answer. She had nothing to say to him, and she didn’t want excuses. Right now, she wasn’t even as angry with him as she was with herself for letting down her guard, allowing herself to dream. She’d been foolish. Naive.
She could still see Camille’s expression as she looked up at Jack. Paige wondered if she had the same expression when she looked at him.
There was another firm, insistent rap on her door. Jack wasn’t going away.
She checked the buttons on her pajama top and opened the door, holding it close to her side so he wouldn’t think he was invited in. “Yes, Jack?”
“I’d like to explain.”
“I’m not interested.”
“I think you owe me a chance—”
“I don’t owe you anything.” Her voice was sharp, hard. Paige paused, regrouped. “There’s nothing you can say now, Jack. You should have talked to me weeks ago, let me know in Yellowstone, or on the way home from Yellowstone when you proposed coming here for the field work, that Camille would be here. After what Sheila said to me, you knew I was concerned, sensitive. We had that whole discussion on my cabin’s front porch.”
“I wanted to tell you—”
“But what? You couldn’t? Because I’m scary? Hard to talk to? Emotional?” They were all things Ted had said, reasons why he had to drink. She’d been hurt then and she was hurt now, pain welling up, heightening the disappointment and grief. He wasn’t who she’d thought he was. He wasn’t her hero after all.
“Can I please come in?”
“No.” She stared into his face, her gaze searching his. She saw remorse in his eyes. She saw sadness. But it didn’t matter. It was too little, too late. She’d vowed years ago to pay attention, look for signs, face the truth. She was facing the truth now. Jack had many, many gorgeous qualities, but he was also a man who played the field, and she wasn’t playing, not anymore. “We have one day until the students leave on their safari and you head to the convention center. Let’s just get through tomorrow. I’ll see our students off on the safari, and you head to your conference. We’ll meet back here Sunday night as planned.”
Jack drew a breath, expression pained. “I don’t have a relationship with Camille.”
“Maybe not,” Paige answered, trying to stay calm, controlled. “But you do have a problem with the truth.”
* * *
At nine a.m. Friday morning, Paige stood in front of the hotel and did a quick head count as her Orange students climbed into three different open-air jeeps, each vehicle with four rows of seats. Paige had their itinerary memorized—today they’d explore Arusha National Park and stay in a campground there, tomorrow they’d visit Ngorongoro Crater, overnighting at a small budget-friendly lodge, and then Sunday would be a visit to Lake Manyara National Park, returning to the hotel in time for dinner. On Monday, everyone—except for Jack—would begin the long flights home.
One of the girls asked Paige why she wasn’t coming. “This is your trip,” she said. “You’ve earned a break from me.” Paige smiled at her. “Go enjoy yourselves. Just please follow the rules, and stay safe.”
Paige watched the jeeps pull out. She felt rather lost as the cars disappeared. Part of her wanted to go, but she wasn’t doing well, and she wasn’t sleeping, either. She didn’t think she’d slept four hours a night since Camille had appeared.
Paige returned to the lobby, and spotting Jabari at the front reception, she crossed to him, asking if there was anything he’d recommend she do, as she had a few days to herself.
He frowned. “You don’t want a safari?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t feel right camping with the kids.”
“They will have a good time, but you should do a grown-up safari. No camping. Quiet and nature.”
That sounded rather heavenly. She could use quiet and nature. “It’s last-minute, though, not sure where I could go.”
“Let me make a few calls.” His frown had turned to a smile. “I know people.”
Two hours later the phone in her room rang. It was Jabari. He’d booked her on a short safari in southern Tanzania. A car would be coming soon to take her to the airport.
“I have to fly?”
“Yes, Dr. Newsome. It is a short flight. Fifty minutes, maybe. It depends on how heavy the plane is, and how many stops you make.”
“And the cost?”
“A good price for you.”
She wanted to ask the price. She was notoriously frugal but at this point she wanted to get away more than she wanted to conserve money. “That’s wonderful. Thank you. And you know this camp?”
“Very well. My brother used to work there. Shani, the River Camp’s director, has all the details: when your plane is landing, when you must return, as I know it’s on Sunday. It’s all been handled.”
“Thank you, Jabari. I’m grateful.”
“I’ll call you when your car is here.”
Paige packed lightly for the two nights she’d be away, and then wrote a note for Jack, sliding it under his door for him to find on Sunday when he returned from his conference.
J—
I’m slipping away for a few days while the students are on their tour but will be back in time to escort them home.
Paige
She was downstairs when her car arrived, and then spent an hour at the airport, as her plane had a delay. She was relieved when she was escorted with four others to the tarmac. The aircraft was light and small, an eight seater. The pilot, Pierre, took her duffel, stowing it in the cargo hold. Boarding the plane, Paige glanced around. There was an American couple on board. Two women—sisters, it sounded like—from Australia. And then Paige.
She briefly studied the brochure provided by the airline, scanning the safety information, and then picked up the booklet on the history of the airline. The booklet listed each of the company’s fourteen pilots: two women, twelve men. Both of the female pilots were young and Black, native Tanzanians. Paige read their bios and then the bio of the pilot flying today. Pierre wasn’t from Tanzania. He’d been born and raised in France and had been flying in Tanzania for five years now. It crossed Paige’s mind that a few weeks ago she would have asked Pierre how he’d ended up here, flying a small charter plane between African bush camps, but now she didn’t care, maybe because Pierre ended up here the way Paige did—maybe he also ran away.
She hadn’t meant to sleep, but her exhaustion caught up with her, and the plane was warm. She closed her eyes for just a moment, and before she knew it, the wheels hit the ground hard, bumping the Cessna up, down, even as they hurtled down the runway.
She rubbed her eyes and looked out the small window just in time to see a herd of elephants moving away from the runway. Beyond them a giraffe nibbled on the leaves of a tree, unconcerned by the plane’s arrival. The American couple in front of Paige took photo after photo, and she wondered if she should do that. The husband had a camera with an impressive telephoto lens. But she didn’t have a fancy camera, nor did she feel like a tourist. To be honest, she didn’t feel anything.
Paige only learned she was the only one getting out here when Pierre removed her lime duffel from the cargo hold and said goodbye. He pointed her to the jeep parked off the runway, and then climbed back into the plane.
The plane was taxiing down the runway before she’d even introduced herself to her driver.
“Welcome,” her driver said, closing the distance and taking her duffel and small backpack from her. “I am Baraka and it’s my pleasure to drive you to our River Camp. Did you see the elephants?” he asked, stowing her bags.
“I did.”