Mists of the Serengeti by Leylah Attar
Once in Africa, I kissed a king…
“And just like that, in an old red barn at the foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro, I discovered the elusive magic I had only ever glimpsed between the pages of great love stories. It fluttered around me like a newborn butterfly and settled in a corner of my heart. I held my breath, afraid to exhale for fear it would slip out, never to be found again.”
When a bomb explodes in a mall in East Africa, its aftershocks send two strangers on a collision course that neither one sees coming.
Jack Warden, a divorced coffee farmer in Tanzania, loses his only daughter. An ocean away, in the English countryside, Rodel Emerson loses her only sibling.
Two ordinary people, bound by a tragic afternoon, set out to achieve the extraordinary, as they make three stops to rescue three children across the vast plains of the Serengeti—children who are worth more dead than alive.
But even if they beat the odds, another challenge looms at the end of the line. Can they survive yet another loss—this time of a love that’s bound to slip through their fingers, like the mists that dissipate in the light of the sun?
“Sometimes you come across a rainbow story—one that spans your heart. You might not be able to grasp it or hold on to it, but you can never be sorry for the color and magic it brought.”
A blend of romance and women’s fiction, Mists of The Serengeti is inspired by true events and contains emotional triggers, including the death of a child. Not recommended for sensitive readers. Standalone, contemporary fiction.
Christmas Scene
“I have one more gift for you to open.” Jack sank next to me on the couch, holding a crimson box.
We had just said goodbye to the last of our guests. The house was still warm with the afterglow of friends and family gathered around for Christmas dinner.
“What is it?” The corners of my mouth lifted. This man. Always with the little surprises.
“Not here, Rodel,” he said, when I reached for it. “It can only be opened in a special place.” He held his hand out for me.
“Where are we going?” I let him pull me off the couch, pretty sure this special place was our bedroom.
“On a little trip.” He steered me out the front door instead.
“Now?” The farm was quiet, except for the fluttering of moth wings against the porch light.
“The best adventures happen under the moonlight.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” I grinned. The playful anticipation in his eyes was better than any gift-wrapped incentive. “You think we should let Goma know we’re heading out?” I asked, following him to the Jeep.
“I think she’s already asleep. But if you want to wake her up…by all means.”
“Hell, no.” If there was one thing Jack’s grandmother loved, it was her beauty sleep. “She still has that gun in her wardrobe.”
“That’s right.” Jack laughed. “Here. Hold on to this.” He placed the box on my lap and started the car.
“What is it?” I shook the box against my ear as we left the farm.
“You keep doing that and you’ll have nothing but crumbs left.”
“Oh!” My eyes lit up. “Cookies! You got me cookies from The Grand Tulip.” I tore into the box for one of the sugar-crusted goodies. “My favorite! Why couldn’t we have them at home? Where are we—”
“Shhh. We’re here.” Jack turned into a path that led through rows of cornfields. One hand rested on the wheel; the other lay protectively on my belly, like it always did, especially since the first time he’d felt the baby kick.
The scent of night-jasmine hung heavy in the air as we approached the small waterfall by the stream.
“We haven’t been here since that night,” I said. The night you fed me tulip-shaped cookies in the trunk of your car. The night we made love like we’d never see each other again. “Oh Jack, this is the best Christmas present ever!” I leaned over to give him a kiss but stopped at the sight of another car parked by the side of the road.
“What the hell?” Jack turned off the engine. “Is that Suzi?”
Suzi was Bahati’s car, freshly pimped with a stereo system that was blasting a raunchy, bass-kicking number. But that wasn’t the only thing drowning out the sound of the waterfall. Suzi’s springs were squeaking as the car rocked from side to side.
“Looks like Bahati is having a very Merry Christmas.” I giggled.
Jack wasn’t amused. “Like there aren’t a hundred other spots to make out. He has to take ours.” He turned on the headlights and honked.
Bahati’s car went still. The music stopped. A face peered out the window, squinting into the light. And then another popped up beside it.
Jack waved at them. “Hey. Bahati!” And Josie. Valerie? Maybe Melody?
“Jack? Is that you?” Bahati shuffled out of his car, pulling his shirt around him.
“What the hell, man? You scared the crap out of me. I thought you were her father. He’ll bust my ass if he catches me around her.” He stuck his head through the window and grinned. “Hey, Ro. Oh wow. You brought dessert?” His eyes settled on the cookies. “Thank you!” He grabbed a handful. “I’m sorry I left so early. Hot date.” He winked. “Thanks, bruh.” He thumped Jack on the back. “You guys are the best. Merry Christmas!”
And off he went, back to his hot date, with sugar cookies to sweeten the deal. A few seconds later the music came on and the car started gyrating again.
“I guess we should head home,” I said, trying not to laugh at Jack’s monster scowl.
“We’re not going anywhere. I brought you here to enjoy these cookies and I’m not leaving until you’re done.”
I picked up the lone cookie left in the box, gave Jack half, and put the other half in my mouth. We kept our eyes on the waterfall and chewed silently while Suzi rocked and rolled beside us.
“The best adventures happen in the moonlight,” I quipped, as we drove back to the farm.
Jack’s scowl transformed into a teensy-weensy smile. Then he cracked up and laughed. “Merry Christmas, my love.”
I rested my hand on his and felt the baby kick. “Best Christmas ever.”
About the Author
Leylah Attar writes stories about love – shaken, stirred and served with a twist. When she’s not writing, she can be found pursuing her other passions: photography, food, family and travel. Sometimes she disappears into the black hole of the internet, but can usually be enticed out with chocolate. http://www.leylahattar.com/
