A Stirring from Salem (16 page)

The Tom-Ali medical van pulled away from the clinic with five eager passengers. Patch drove with Marlena next to him. Kayla stayed in the back with little Joe and Beauty, who had come along as their interpreter.

The drive to the tiny village of Rooiboklaagte took about forty-five minutes. They passed through territory that reminded Marlena of the trips she used to take with her family when she was growing up in Colorado. The Drakensberg range was on one side with the lowlands nestled against its mountains. Low scrub brush dotted the area, as well as a smattering of trees.

Leading into the village, the area was dotted with small concrete houses with well-raked yards and gardens filled with vegetables. Churches were scattered through the village. Chickens and children and goats scattered everywhere.

“What’s the population now?” Marlena asked as she glanced at the rural community.

“About two thousand, I’d guess,” Patch answered. “At least half of them little kids.”

The African population was growing disproportionately, and the rate of life-threatening disease was climbing with it. An estimated thirty percent of the people or more were HIV positive.

“Are they all here?” Marlena asked when she saw dozens and dozens of colorfully dressed Africans anxiously awaiting their arrival.

“They obviously got the word out that we were coming,” Patch said as he pulled the van into the tiny village.

“And look at those shining faces,” Marlena said, emotion overtaking her.

“We’re the last hope for some of them,” Kayla reminded her. “It’s why they come out to see us so eagerly.”

Neither woman noticed Patch’s reaction. The secret he held about Tom-Ali’s imminent financial collapse was weighing on him. He knew that if the clinic folded, there would be little hope for many of these people.

“We see reports on the news all the time at home, but until you’re actually here, you don’t really feel it,” Marlena said, taking a deep sigh. “The energy is just incredible.”

“Speaking of energy, I think Joe’s ready to explode,” Kayla said. After an hour in the backseat, Joe was antsier than ever.

“Stopping now, Sweetness,” Patch said as he parked next to the building that served as the artisan studio. The exterior walls were painted with murals and were a rotating canvas for the villagers. “Everybody out!”

The patients’ eager anticipation energized the group emerging from the van as much as the most potent drugs they’d brought with them. Joe jumped out and headed straight for the children who were playing everywhere. He was immediately lost in the sea of colored garments, many of which had been crafted nearby.

“Be careful!” Kayla called to him as he scampered off in the direction of a group of boys playing happily with used Popsicle sticks and threadbare soccer balls.

“Don’t worry, Sweetness. I’ll watch him,” Patch assured her.

Patch kept one eye on Joe as he released the latch that opened the side canopy of the van. In the intense sun of South African summer, the shade was welcome.

Two of the women from the Mapusha Weavers Synergy Co-op emerged from the main building. Gertrude was the eldest of the cooperative and their master weaver, and Angy, one of the youngest weavers, was known for her use of vivid colors. The two women brought their visitors tall pitchers of iced tea. Their smiles matched those of the children.

“Welcome,” said Gertrude with a thick African accent.

“Welcome,” echoed Angy. They both prided themselves on having learned a few words of English.

“How is your husband?” Kayla said, as they began to catch up. Beauty translated as Kayla asked questions and Marlena drank it all in. She learned that Gertrude’s elderly husband still tended gardens and that their thirteen grandchildren were all in school. Angy was hoping to move closer to the compound, but she still walked an hour each day to create amazing multicolored tapestries and rugs that were wildly popular with the tourists.

What Angy earned there helped support her blind father and unemployed brother as well as the other members of her family. Jobs were scarce everywhere in the world, but nowhere more scarce than in Africa. The women who’d created this project were supporting not only themselves but also their community.

For nearly three hours, Marlena and Kayla listened to the stories of the ailing and needy who arrived by the dozens at the mobile van. At the same time, the two friends provided medicines for the villagers’ illnesses and compassion for their souls. Parents brought small children to be tested for malaria and TB. Patients of all ages underwent HIV testing and received ARV drugs, while others were given antibiotics to fight off fevers and infection.

All the while, Land Rovers from nearby game farms arrived for tours and to witness the artistry of the women who’d created their own future.

The last patient was a pregnant young girl named Lindah who could have been no more than thirteen. She had walked more than two hours in the blistering heat to see them.

“How far along is she?” Kayla asked Beauty. She asked Lindah and translated the reply. Kayla and Marlena listened, sickened, as Lindah told Beauty the story of how she had been raped six months ago by an uncle.

Her uncle had AIDS and was one who still believed that raping a virgin could cure him. That had been a common belief for years in many of the rural villages and accounted for a tremendous amount of tragedy. Lindah now feared that she was HIV positive and prayed she had not infected her unborn child.

“We can test you and have the results back in a few days,” Kayla told her. “Until then, we will all pray for you and your baby.”

Kayla had been raised a staunch Roman Catholic and still believed in the power of prayer. She had to.

Beauty translated, and Lindah nodded her thanks. Then Beauty saw Patch signaling her and went to join him.

Kayla checked Lindah’s vitals and took blood samples. When she was finished, Marlena enveloped the frightened young girl in her arms and held her tightly.

Kayla fought back tears but was jolted back to reality when she heard Joe calling her from across the road.

“Mommy, look!” he shouted excitedly. “To infinity and beyond!”

Joe was standing on a five-foot-high cinder-block wall, and Kayla was horrified. “Joseph Johnson, you get down from there!” she called.

With arms outstretched and emulating his favorite Buzz Lightyear, Joe flung himself into the air.

“Joe!” Kayla screamed as the little boy landed in the rock-hard dirt below.

“Owwwwwww!” His scream could have shattered glass.

Kayla ran toward him as Joe started wailing and clutching his right arm. She could see blood gushing from a gaping wound just below his right wrist.

One of the African boys got to Joe first and reached out to help him. Kayla could see the boy had scraped knees and fingers from playing in the dirt.

“You stay back. Do not touch him!” Kayla yelled in a panic.

The boy stumbled back as Kayla literally pushed him aside.

“What is the matter with you, Joe Johnson!” she scolded. “What were you thinking? Let me see your arm. Steve!” she screamed. He was nowhere in sight. “Steven!”

“It was the tokoloshi,” Joe wailed. “They pushed me!”

He was sobbing, his wrist limp and blood gushing through a tear in his flesh.

“Stop lying about that, Joe!” Kayla barked. Then she caught herself and attempted to calm down. “You’ll be all right,” she said. “You’ll be in a cast, but you’ll be all right.”

“Sweet Lord,” she heard as Steve dashed toward them from the main studio.

“Where were you?” Kayla snapped. “You said you’d watch him!”

She was furious; Joe was crying; and Patch was now angry, too. “I had to take a leak, and Beauty said she’d watch him.”

From behind a large tree nearby, they both saw Beauty emerge with a handsome young boy about her age. She stood frozen, realizing what had happened.

“Joe, I am sorry,” Patch said, trying to console his son. “But you’re a tough guy, right? A broken bone or two when you’re a kid makes you tougher.”

“Help me get him to the van,” Kayla said, glaring at her husband. “We’ll get some X rays and see what we’ve got.” She breathed deeply, determined to let her professional side take over and to calm down for Joe’s sake. But her blood was boiling.

She was also feeling guiltier than she had in ages. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she knew why.

“Hold it as still as you can, baby,” she directed her son. “And let Daddy carry you.”

Patch picked up his whimpering son as gently as he could, while Kayla had Joe place his right arm over his left for support.

“What were you doing anyway, pal?” Patch asked as he carried Joe to the van.

“It was the tokoloshi,” Joe insisted.

“You cannot blame them for everything, Joe,” Kayla said, more frustrated than angry.

“Think we’ve been in Africa a bit too long?” Patch said under his breath as they walked through the crowd of onlookers.

“No,” Kayla insisted as she passed Marlena and Lindah.

But in her heart, Kayla wondered if he was right.

***

The forty-five minute ride back to Tom-Ali was agonizing for everyone. Kayla had made a makeshift splint out of tongue depressors wrapped tightly with gauze and cold packs. She had also given Joe pediatric morphine to ease his discomfort. But the constant jarring from the rutted roads kept him whimpering.

“We’ll be there soon,” Kayla whispered gently in his ear, though she knew that wasn’t true.

Joe put the thumb from his left hand in his mouth and began sucking it for comfort.

“It’ll be all right, baby. I promise.”

Her instinct was to rock him, but she knew better. She just held him gently and rested her head on his. Within a few minutes, his whimpering stopped as he fell asleep in her arms.

“A mother’s touch,” Marlena said, as she watched her friend cradle her son.

“No casting bandages,” Kayla said quietly. “Cornelius was supposed to stock everything. He should be shot.”

“Joe will be all right,” Marlena assured her gently. “You know that.”

Kayla nodded. “I do. But protecting and nurturing your children is the most important job in the world,” she said softly. “You know that.”

“When they’re Joe’s age, sometimes they even let you,” Marlena said, looking away with her thoughts going to her own children.

Kayla saw Marlena’s expression change and knew what it meant. “How’s it going with Charley?” she asked.

“She’s not our daughter but she is,” Marlena answered. “That biological connection is actually stronger than even I’d realized.”

“Nature versus nurture is still a mysterious thing,” Kayla said. “Whether Charley likes it or not, there’s a lot of you both in her. And she shouldn’t just like that, she should be thrilled.”

“Maybe one day she will be,” Marlena said appreciatively as she glanced out across the passing scenery. “Maybe one day she will be.”

Soft, rhythmic African music played through the sound system as Tuma escorted a shell-shocked Charley into the lapa.

Vince sat on one of the white down sofas in the elegantly appointed open room. He was going through the morning’s shots on his Mac as they entered.

“I thought you were getting a massage, kiddo,” Vince said as he saw her approach.

“I changed my mind,” she said, jolted back to reality. “And thank you, Tuma,” she added.

“Nothing to eat?” Tuma asked.

“No, no, thank you. I just needed air. I’ll be fine,” she said, forcing a smile.

“I will be at reception if you need me.” He answered with his engaging smile and started to exit.

“Wait, Tuma,” Vince said, stopping him. He turned to Charley. “Go back to the spa. I don’t offer these perks very often, and you saved the day with that suggestion about guerilla shooting, Charley. We got some damned good stuff.”

“Which means we have work to do,” she insisted.

Vince leaned back and studied his potential protégée as she sat next to him. “Okay, but now and then you need to relax.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted more firmly.

“If you don’t mind my mentioning it, you’re not,” he offered. “But if you’d rather be working, who am I to stop you?”

Vince nodded to Tuma, who left them alone. Vince could see that Charley was fighting back tears.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” His voice was calm and his demeanor professional, which surprised her.

“Could I just see the shots again?” she asked, dodging his questions. Seeing John and Scarlett had made her especially vulnerable. The lack of sleep and the intense midday heat didn’t help.

“Sure, but let me get you something to drink,” he said, standing.

“Nonalcoholic,” she insisted. “And thanks.”

Vince went to the open bar and poured Charley some ice water, plopped in a few cucumber slices, and returned with the glass.

“I am truly grateful you said yes to this gig,” he said as he watched her drink the cooling liquid.

“How could I say no?” she answered. “You’re considered a genius.”

“I’m considered a lot of things,” he laughed. “A prick, a manipulator, a man-diva—and also someone who knows how to spot talent both behind and in front of the camera. You, my dear heart, have both.”

“Me?”

“You. You not only saved a disastrous morning…look.”

Charley clicked through the computer images. It was a series she hadn’t seen before. Why? Because she was in them with Nikki.

Nikki was in khaki shorts and hiking boots, her rich black hair tied in a bandana. Charley was in the clothes she was still wearing, nearly identical to those for the shoot.

She was fresh faced, wearing no makeup since she wasn’t supposed to be on camera, and her chestnut brown hair was flowing freely in the wind. They were under an umbrella tree with its rich green leaves and sandy bark, the bright blue of the African sky behind them. In the distance several vultures circled over a kill.

“Amazingly nice composition, Vince,” she said.

“I know these weren’t supposed to be ‘real’ shots. You were just illustrating the pose I wanted,” he said pointedly. “But look at these, Charley. You’ve got ‘it.’ If nothing else comes from this entire job, I’ve made a discovery. You.”

Charley was thrown. She was flattered. She was confused. “I’m your discovery?”

Vince chuckled.

“Why’s that funny?” she asked.

“You’re just so damned cute. You have an amazingly enigmatic expression on your face in these shots, Charley. One famously captured by DaVinci, captivating the world for years, but you don’t see it when it’s you.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed.

“So right, I’m going to call you Mona from now on,” he said, gazing directly into her flecked hazel eyes.

The way he looked at her was captivating, too. There was a passion in what he said, a charisma she hadn’t recognized before.

She laughed.

“And that smile is even better, ‘Mona,’” he said pointedly.

She scoffed at the absurdity of it all.

“Lisa,” she corrected him. “I think I like Lisa better.”

“Now I am serious, you,” he said as he pulled her up from the sofa. “Come here and look. If Brigitta’s out of the picture, and she just may be, we always have you.”

“What?” she reeled.

“This is business, Charley, and I’ve got to protect the shoot.”

There was a massive carved teak mirror on the far side of the room. He led her there, with Charley resisting the whole way.

“Look!”

Charley looked at her reflection and was a bit shocked. She hadn’t looked in a mirror all morning. The girl in that mirror was enigmatic, glowing, and beautiful in the most organic and natural way. In the peace and serenity of her African surroundings, she exuded an animal sexuality.

She smiled at the realization that he was right.

Then she caught him staring hungrily at her. Vince’s hand slid quickly down her back, and he cupped her behind in his massive hand. Charley turned abruptly, and he began kissing her brusquely.

She was stunned as Vince wrapped his other strong arm around her and pulled her tightly to himself.

Charley pulled back, furious. But Vince was used to getting what he wanted.

“One other thing I am is an amazing lover,” he said.

“You’re all alike, aren’t you?” she snarled. “Just like my father.”

Her expression was no longer Mona Lisa, but instead a mixture of hurt and anger. “Take your hands off me now, Mr. Castle.”

“Hard to get. I like that even better,” Vince said, grabbing her and kissing her. She pulled away and slapped him fully across the face.

“I’ll be in the suite,” she said evenly as he reeled. “When you’re ready to work again, you know where to find me.”

Adrenaline pumping, she strode out of the lapa, forgetting the danger that surrounded them.

***

Without thinking, she walked out to the path alone and took big, deep breaths, leaning against one of the guardrails put there for protection. Just then, three wildly chattering monkeys streaked across the grounds toward her, teeth bared and angry.

Before she knew what hit her, Charley was shoved out of the way as the screeching monkeys flew past her. A body landed on top of her and held her still.

Charley could hear the monkeys chattering as they ran through the camp. And suddenly, finally, the only noise was her heavy breathing and the body lifting off her.

“Are you okay?” she heard.

A masculine hand reached out to help, and when she looked up, she saw Brendan.

Her heart skipped a beat. “I’m—fine,” she said, repeating the lie she’d told Tuma and Vince earlier.

“Then don’t you ever walk alone out here again, do you hear me?” There was panic in his eyes and anger in his voice.

Charley was thrown by his vehement reaction. “I’m fine. Really. I am.”

She took his hand, and he helped her to her feet. His hand was strong and the feel of his flesh strangely familiar. She could see he was breathing as heavily as she was.

“Are
you
okay?” she asked, truly concerned.

“Fine,” he said curtly.

But clearly he wasn’t.

“I won’t be so careless again. I promise,” she said gently.

She met his gaze, and he met hers. He brushed some dirt off her cheek and sighed.

“I—didn’t mean to yell at you,” he said apologetically.

“It’s all right,” she answered. “It’s your job to make sure everyone’s safe.”

He shook his head sadly. “Yes, but…it’s not just that. I lost my wife in a freak accident on a game drive a little over a year ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Charley said. He gripped her hand a little bit tighter.

“And seeing you in danger…” his voice trailed off. “I usually don’t talk about it,” he admitted. “I don’t know why I just did.” He went silent. Numb.

Charley sensed he was reliving the moment when he had lost his wife. “I know about losing people you love…” She immediately pulled his face toward hers until their eyes locked.

In that split second, Charley understood love at first sight. Well, second or third sight. And it startled her.

“I should have been more careful. I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Can we just pretend it never happened?”

He was lost in her eyes, her compassion, and her heart.

“Sure, we’ll pretend that never happened,” he said smiling. “As long as we never forget what just did.”

***

Charley’s mind was a muddle as she and Brendan walked in silence through the maze of tree-lined paths that led back to the suite. Brendan slipped his arm around her slim waist, and she wrapped her arm through his. The fit was perfect, like two halves of a jagged heart necklace.

They reached the magnificent thatched residence, and Charley leaned against the door.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “And I really am—”

He put his hand to her lips.

“I know, you’re sorry.” He stared at this girl he’d known less than twenty-four hours. “And I didn’t mean to lay all that on you.”

“I’m glad you did,” she said.

Don’t hate me for being happy that you’re single, she grimaced to herself.

“I’ve managed to move on,” he said.

Am I a creep for being glad I’m single? he thought to himself.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, suddenly choking back the question and realizing how it sounded.

But Brendan didn’t move his eyes from hers. “Would it be out of line for me to kiss you?” he said.

She shook her head no.

He moved in slowly. Their lips touched gently, fitting as though they were the negative and positive of the same print. There they lingered.

Charley turned the door handle behind her back. It clicked and opened. The tension was palpable.

“I would come in, but I can’t,” Brendan said as he pulled away gently. “I’ve got something important I have to take care of this afternoon.”

Charley felt her face flush. She had been willing to invite him into her room and maybe even into her bed. Was she being rejected?

“Oh, well, thanks again?” she said, realizing how hollow it sounded.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “Don’t forget your promise to be careful,” he reminded her as he walked away.

Charley watched the man with whom she had fallen head over heels stride down the path away from her.

“What just happened?” she said in disbelief.
And what could be more important than this?