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Ashton accepted the perfunctory kiss she dropped onto his lips and watched with appreciation as she padded naked to collect her bag and then head to the bathroom. The last of the afternoon sunlight played over her soft skin, highlighting the different textures of bone, sinew and muscle. She had an athletic body that she pushed hard. In fact, she had it all. Resilient body. Strong mind. Romantic heart. Idealist soul.
Was the last going to survive the meeting with her father? Ashton had a bad feeling about what was to come tomorrow. A man didn’t dedicate himself completely to a lifestyle that involved being gone for several months or even a year at a time without understanding it would be difficult to maintain close relationships. A wife and family wouldn’t be a top priority.
More than anything Ashton wanted to spare Harper any disappointment Greg LeDay might heap upon her, but she’d come too far to turn back now. The best he could do was be a shoulder to cry on.
Not wishing his solemn mood to put a damper on their evening, Ashton chose to use the shower outside before dressing for dinner. Slipping on a pair of khaki pants and a beige knit shirt, he toyed with his Saint Christopher medal while he waited for Harper to appear. His mother had given the medal to him on a trip back to South Africa. They were traveling by plane. He’d been six. They’d encountered a storm halfway and been tossed around. While lightning darted around the wings, his mother had removed the medal from her neck and fastened it around his, telling him that Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travelers, would protect him.
When he’d left home at fifteen, he’d taken the medal with him and had worn it every day since. Ashton wasn’t sure why, whether it was superstition or faith. Whichever it was, it had kept him safe.
He’d spent more time thinking about his parents in the past week than he had in the past twenty years. Being on the front lines of Harper’s identity struggle had opened doors he’d thought long locked and barred. What awaited him hadn’t been as painful as he’d expected. Having someone he cared about accept him unconditionally
had made the difference.
Now all he had to do was offer Harper the same unequivocal support, no matter how misguided he thought her decision to confront her biological father was. He would be there to comfort her if things went awry.
Ten
Harper’s fingers bit into the passenger door armrest as the Range Rover neared the camp that Greg LeDay was using as the base for the safari he was leading. The sun was lowering toward the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape. This morning they’d overslept and arrived too late to catch LeDay before he took out his clients.
For the past six hours she and Ashton had been driving around Kruger National Park, hoping for a glimpse of wildlife. The roads they’d taken had been paved, and the truck had decent springs, but her stomach wasn’t feeling particularly settled. She blamed it on nerves. Soon she would get to meet the man who might be her father.
How it went would determine the rest of her life. There was a great deal riding on the outcome of this meeting.
“Hang in there.” Ashton’s hand covered hers in a reassuring squeeze. As he’d been doing these past few days, he’d picked up on her mood and knew just what to say.
“I wish I knew how he was going to react.”
“Looks like the trucks are back. You should know pretty quick.”
Before Ashton threw the Range Rover into Park, she spotted Greg LeDay. He wore khaki-colored cotton pants, a short-sleeved beige shirt and a tan vest with six pockets. A wide-brimmed hat in some drab color between gray and brown shielded his face from the sun. But even with that protection, he looked older than the photo on his webpage. Years of living in the bush had etched lines around his eyes and given his skin a look of worn leather.
Heart thumping erratically, Harper approached the group he was addressing. She’d asked Ashton to hang back and give her time to introduce herself. He wasn’t happy about her request, but he’d agreed.
LeDay’s gaze found her lingering on the fringes of the crowd and dwelled on her for a moment before he returned his attention to his charges. “This was a great day. Tomorrow we’ll go out and see if we can’t find some cats.”
The crowd dispersed, sidestepping Harper, who stood tongue-tied and uncertain. She’d practiced a hundred different openings and none of them seemed right.
“Can I help you?”
“My name is Harper Fontaine.” She stumbled over her surname, wondering at the last second if he’d recognize it.
“Nice to meet you.” No recognition flared in his eyes.
“I believe you met my mother several years ago. Penelope Fontaine?”
“Was she on one of my safaris?”
Things had just gotten awkward. “You met her in London. At an exhibition of your work.”
“I’m sorry. The name just doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Perhaps a picture would help.” Harper pulled out her smartphone and showed him an image of her mother, knowing Penelope would be quite put out that a lover—even one she’d had a brief affair with thirty years prior—could forget her so easily.
LeDay didn’t look at the photo; he stared at Harper. “Why don’t you tell me what this is about.”
“You had an affair with my mother.” Now that the words were out, Harper was struck with an awful thought. What if she’d flown halfway around the world to meet the wrong man?
“And if I did?”
