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“Yes. Dalila cooked her famous stew early this morning before leaving. For ‘her Chad,’ as she put it. I just warmed it all up for lunch.”
Lunch? Had he really been in his room that long?
“She’s a kitchen goddess,” he said, quirking the corner of his mouth up. He reached for the banister and clenched his jaw when he realized he’d tried reaching with his right arm. How many more months or years was it going to take for his brain to adjust?
He made his way down the curved staircase, placing his hand against the left wall for balance when he felt a twinge in his right hip.
“I have an ironsmith coming in a few days to make a matching banister for the left side,” Hope said.
“Cancel the appointment. You don’t have to change anything on my account. I’ll manage.”
“I know we don’t have to. Your father and I want to. It’s not a big deal. He said he’ll be back in time for lunch. He got a ride to the office. He needed to sign off on some new recruit applications. I told him someone could bring the paperwork to the house, but he was desperate to get out.”
Ben’s work with KWS and the Kenyan armed forces to combat ruthless poachers was just another example of how evil existed even at home. There was no escaping it...a fact that made Chad’s blood curdle, especially now that there was nothing he could do about it.
His father had always been his role model...someone whose expectations he’d always tried to live up to. After Chad’s biological mother was killed by a reckless drunk driver when Chad was only four, and his dad had retreated into a shell, Chad had quickly caught on to the fact that the only way for his father to notice him was to try to be just like him. He probably already was on some level, behavioral genetics and all.
But as soon as he was old enough to really understand how needlessly his mother had lost her life and how rampant violence and war were in the news, Chad had understood what had really driven his father to serve. And it had become Chad’s mission, too.
Roosevelt, the family dog, came bounding up just as Chad cleared the last step. But rather than colliding into Chad or jumping up on him, the four-year-old mix padded around him, wagging his tail and sniffing.
“He’s finally outgrowing some of that puppy energy,” Hope said.
Chad’s eyes stung as he reached down and scratched Roosevelt behind the ear. Losing Aries in action still gouged him in the heart.
Roosevelt licked his hand. The dog knew. His behavior had nothing to do with outgrowing puppyhood, if that even happened for dogs with any Golden or Lab in the mix. Nope. Chad had no doubt Roosevelt sensed something was wrong. Dogs could smell disease and injury. They mourned loss. And Chad had lost more than his arm. When the doctors had brought him out of his induced coma, he’d discovered that Aries had died in the blast and his best friend, Tony, had been killed only a week after the blast that injured Chad.
Chad walked across the living room with the dog at his heels and opened the glass patio doors that led to their garden. He could hear his mom tinkering in the kitchen. He sat on the top step leading out onto the grass, grabbed a rubber ball and tossed it. It took a curved path into the base of a flowering bougainvillea—far from the tree he’d been aiming for. Roosevelt didn’t seem to care one way or the other. His mother’s vine, however, didn’t look too happy.
“Here’s some iced tea. Extra lemon, the way you like it,” his mom said, as she stepped outside and sat next to him. She handed him a glass then took a long drink from her own.
“Sorry about your vine,” Chad half muttered, setting the glass down next to him. He was screwing up even something as benign as tossing a dog a ball. It was hard to believe he’d once handled and trained military dogs. Now he couldn’t even play fetch right. How long would it take to really get comfortable with using his left arm for anything other than general use? He still couldn’t sign his name legibly with his left hand, let alone aim a ball with any accuracy...or a firearm, for that matter.
He’d received an honorable discharge from the marines. A medal, to boot. So why wasn’t he feeling an ounce of pride at the moment?
“Are you kidding me? Any of the plants you see here survived Roosevelt’s initial puppy years. They’ll survive anything at this point,” Hope said.
Chad hated hearing a double meaning in everything, even when it wasn’t intended. He scratched his hair back and took a swig of tart tea.
“I guess.”
“You know, tossing that ball is good for you. I know we’re setting up additional physical therapy now that you’re here—ah, don’t argue about that right now—but really, there’s a lot you can do on your own. Though maybe we should put up a small soccer goal, just so that you don’t torture that tree when your skills sharpen,” she teased.
Chad grinned. Leave it to his mom to get a smile out of him. He actually appreciated that she didn’t shy away from the facts.
“How’d you guess the tree was my target?”
“That’s classified information.”
“Right.” A brief laugh escaped him. Roosevelt came running back with a rubber bone. “Wait a minute. I’m pretty sure I threw a ball.”
“Who knows how many toys are hidden out there. I’m beginning to think your father hides them just so he can have an excuse to buy more,” Hope said.
It had taken forever for Ben to give in to the “free” puppy Maddie had brought home for Philip when he was still in high school. He’d seen how devastating it could be for a marine to lose his canine—his friend had lost his dog in battle, a dog named Wolf, back when Ben had lost his wife, Zoe.
For years, Ben had refused to get a family dog, out of fear of reliving that kind of pain. But Roosevelt had been a blessing since day one and, once Philip had left for college, Ben had ended up bonding with the dog.
Chad took the bone and tried tossing it Frisbee style. This time it veered left and landed mid-yard.
“I don’t want to deal with physical therapists anymore. I worked with them long enough before coming home. It’s not helping.”
“You have to give it time.”
“It’s not doing anything.”
“Chad, you have to try. You won’t get better by sitting around here. You have to have physical training. I’m not just saying this as your mother. I know this as a doctor.”
“Get better? Have you looked at me? I won’t ever ‘get better.’ That implies a full recovery. That’s a physical impossibility for me.”
His pulse pounded at his temples and his eyes burned. He hated feeling cornered. The pressure everyone had been putting on him to get up and take action, as if he was lazy or wallowing in self-pity, was as irritating as the scars that still itched relentlessly. This wasn’t about self-pity. This was about everyone thinking they knew what he was going through. But they didn’t know what he needed. No one could.
His mom pressed her fingers to her eyes. Roosevelt stood with his bone in his mouth, waiting. He looked between the two of them. The dog’s tail slowed to a pitiful pace. Chad stared at him but made no move to play. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or frustration, but this feeling that tightened his chest and squeezed at his throat whenever anyone insisted he should make an effort to get better paralyzed him.
Roosevelt let out a short whimper then dropped the bone and settled at Chad’s feet.
“Do you really want to know what I see when I look at you?”
Hope laced her fingers and tucked them in her lap. She paused and the way her dark brown eyes glistened pinched at his conscience. He didn’t want to hurt her. He really didn’t. Hope had always been the glue for their family. She was the voice of reason...the heart and soul of their family. She’d essentially saved them all from spiraling down and falling apart after Zoe’s death.
But there wasn’t anything to save now. Sure, he was alive, but she couldn’t change the fact that he’d never be the same again. That the future he’d always envisioned would never happen.
All he’d ever wanted was to be a marine. To fight the bad guys and rise in the ranks. To avenge the death of everyone he’d lost in life. To try to extinguish evil so that the rest of his family could have safe, long lives. He wasn’t unreasonable. He knew he couldn’t stop death altogether or keep random accidents from happening. But he could pick the worst of the worst and stop them from terrorizing the world. That’s why he’d joined the marines.
He’d never considered settling into civilian life, let alone trying to map out a new future without his mind and body whole.
Hope put a hand on his knee.
“I see Chad. I see you as the rambunctious, overactive toddler I first met. I see you as the incorrigible, confident, adrenaline-loving teen. I see the valiant, focused and proud-to-follow-in-his-father’s-footsteps man you were when you joined the marines. I see you, Chad.
“I know you too well and love you too much to look at only the surface. I’ve also witnessed your inner strength and drive. The kid I raised never gave up on anything. If he had, your dad and I may have held out a few more years before getting gray hairs. These injuries? They’re obstacles, yes. But they’re not you.”
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mom. These injuries...what happened to me and the memory of it...they are me now. We’re the sum of our experiences. Aren’t we?”
She hugged her arms around her waist and glanced up at the cloudless sky. She couldn’t answer because he was right. She took a deep breath and held it for a fraction of a second before letting it go.
“Have you ever considered that your mama Zoe was your guardian angel on the day of the explosion? That she’s the reason you’re alive? Because that would be a gift. A gift from her. Not a punishment. You’re right that we’re the sum of our experiences. But we hold those experiences in our minds...in our souls...not our bodies.”
Chad gritted his teeth and shot up, his thigh bumping into his glass of tea. The glass tipped over and broke, causing the dog to startle and jump up onto all fours.
Hope’s hand flew to her chest for a brief second before she moved to clean up the glass.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get this,” she said, setting her own tea down on the far side of the steps.
He didn’t miss the quiver in her voice. A part of him cared; a part of him didn’t. Heat washed through him and that sharp phantom pain shot through his missing arm again. He dug his nails into the back of his neck.
“Don’t. Stop trying to fix things. I’m not broken glass. You can’t just pick up the pieces. You know what people do with shattered glass? They sweep it up and toss it in the trash. I love you, Mom, but you don’t get it. You can’t come even close to understanding what it’s like to be me right now. Don’t you dare tell me my body doesn’t matter.”
With that, he stormed back in the house, trying hard to ignore the breathless sobs and clinking of glass shards he left in his wake.
CHAPTER THREE (#ud8318cdc-109a-5236-86a0-089459af1ab8)
LEBOO’S PULSE SKITTERED. He remained frozen behind the thickest tree but no footsteps approached. They’d almost caught him this time.
If it hadn’t been for the monkey screeching, while scampering past the tent with a stolen piece of fruit and knocking over a metal pail in the process, they would have suspected a human intruder. They would have heard the noise he’d made when he bumped into the metal cabinet in the tent.
If someone found him, everything would be over. His family, especially his mother and sister, would suffer.
The evening grew dark, blessing Leboo with shadows. The voices he’d heard moments before, faded into the night.
He peered carefully around the tree. The pregnant woman gathered the bowl and what fruit was left in it, then disappeared into their home. No one else was around. This was his chance.
He secured the bandages and supplies he’d stolen in his pocket, then escaped as quietly and swiftly as he could. He was getting good at this...gifted at stealth. But a nagging feeling warned him that next time he might not be so lucky. The price for not returning with the supplies was too high to pay, yet the reward...priceless. He needed to stay focused. He needed to be prepared to defend himself at all costs.
He’d come better armed next time...
* * *
LEXI SHIELDED HER face from the sun and eyed the solitary wisp of cloud that had been lingering overhead.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about. The last rainy season practically skipped us altogether. I’m honestly more worried about what the drought is doing to the region than the clinic flooding or roads getting washed out when the rains come,” she said.
She’d read about Kenya’s climate and the rainy seasons back when she was making her big move. Everyone had warned her, when she’d first arrived, about the “short rains” of November and December, yet, it had not rained nearly as much as they’d described. She wasn’t so sure the “long rains” of April would be that much more dramatic.
“You never know.” Jacey cocked her head. “I get that climate change has done a number on everyone, but I’m a firm believer that predictable weather doesn’t exist.”
“Sure, it does. I predict that a minute from now it’ll still be hot and sunny,” Lexi said.
“Wow, pregnancy must be enhancing your intuitive abilities. It must go hand in hand with that mother’s intuition thing.” Jacey smirked at her and shook her head as she packaged up some surgical equipment for Hope to take to Nairobi to sterilize.
They had a small, autoclave for sterilizing equipment, but it had broken down a month ago. Even when it had been working, it had depended on the generator. Lexi really wished they could get one of the solar-powered autoclaves she’d read about. She wanted to talk to Dr. Hope about installing solar panels on the roof, too.
Though none of that would matter if they shut down the clinic. She’d sacrifice newer equipment to keep the clinic open. She’d boil things if she had to. Back to basics. The impact of having routine care and vaccines available to locals was so worth it. People needed this clinic.
Fingers crossed, Ben would be able to spare one of his new recruits or teammates to provide security. This clinic was important to Hope, too, so maybe he’d make the extra effort for his wife. Lexi was probably worrying for nothing.
“A little rain would be a blessing, but at least we know that no torrential storms will keep Mac from bringing Hope around today. Other than vaccinations, we can’t see any more clinic patients until these supplies are sterilized. Where’d Taj go?”
“He’s gathering his things so he can head out with Mac.” Jacey took off her sterile gloves and disposed of them, then turned and crossed her arms. “Look, Lexi. I know we have a rule about no one staying out here alone, even without poacher threats, but I can hold down the fort until Mac brings back our equipment and more supplies. In the meantime, you should go with Taj and Mac to Nairobi. Get some proper rest. Make arrangements for when the baby comes. Go shopping.”
“Absolutely not. I told you I have everything under control. I’ll get what’s needed when I go in for my exam. It’s called efficiency. And I’ve already made arrangements. Hope said I can stay at her home to recover after the baby comes, if I want. I don’t plan to abuse that invitation. I’ll stay there a few weeks to a month, max. Then I’m coming right back here. We’ve organized a nurse from Hope’s office to cover my clinic duties every other day. And Taj will still be around, too.”
“But what about the baby?”
“What do you mean?”
“Lexi, do you have any idea how hard that would be for you? What about your child and our very basic living conditions? It’s too risky.”
“I’ve thought this through. Big houses in fancy neighborhoods aren’t the only way people raise families. We keep a clean place here. Our clinic bungalow is like a small house or apartment. All this nature? Think of it as a big backyard. Jane Goodall had her toddler son at her research camp years ago. Half of Dr. Hope’s friends and family have done it. Even in America there are people who live in cabins in the woods, which are teeming with wolves and bears. And I might add that big cities and suburbs aren’t without their dangers—drive-by or school shootings, for one thing.
“I’m going to build my life here doing what I was born to do. And if everyone Hope and Mac know has raised their kids out here, I can do it, too. I’d have a room and a roof over my head. I don’t need any more than that. And my baby will have me. Don’t worry.”
“What about logistical things like dirty diapers?”
“When I first came here, Mac told me all about how he met Dr. Bekker at her elephant rescue. He said she used to take bucket showers and boil her daughter’s and her friend’s son’s diapers then hang them on old-fashioned clotheslines. I’m sure I’ll manage and get tips from everyone who has been through it. At least we don’t have to take bucket showers and our well hasn’t dried out. And, for the record, I don’t expect anyone to diaper wash or babysit. I’ll do it.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’d be happy to help out.” Jacey crinkled her nose. “Maybe. I’m just worried for you both.”
“Don’t be. I know what I’m doing. That mother’s intuition thing. Right?”
“I guess.” Jacey sighed.
“Any special requests other than ice cream?” Taj asked, coming out of the clinic.
“A new autoclave?” Jacey quipped.
“I wish. That’s in Dr. Hope’s hands,” Taj said.
“Someone to secure the area so we stay open?” Lexi added.
“That’s also in her hands. Or Ben’s. Trust me, what Mac said is bothering me, too, and not just because I work here. Listen, we have two hours before they get here. I want to take the jeep down to the enkang that’s just south of here by that dried riverbed and deliver—”
“Hang on. We have a patient.” Lexi motioned toward a Masai man who was hurrying down the path carrying a woman in his arms.
“Oh, no.”
She didn’t have to say more. Taj and Jacey were already running over to help carry the woman to the exam tent. Dark bloodstains were evident on her traditional wrap dress, despite the cloth’s vibrant colors. Lexi moved as fast as she could and was at her side just as they lay her on the exam cot. She was pregnant. Lexi swallowed hard. Stay focused. This isn’t you. The young woman was bleeding out. Her eyes were barely open and her face looked pale.
“What happened? Nini kimetokea?” Lexi asked, hoping he spoke either English or Swahili because she couldn’t recall how to ask it in Maa.
“She was grinding corn. Only that.” The man stood back, his eyes intense. He draped his red-and-orange shuka back over his shoulder. His opposite shoulder and upper arm bore the scars of teeth marks. Lexi glanced at him. The man had stood up to a wild animal, but seeing blood from an ill family member was different. She’d seen plenty of grown men get woozy.
Jacey was pulling out clean gauze and the last sterilized set of surgical equipment. Taj had a blood pressure cuff on the woman and was setting up an IV. Lexi, already gloved, assessed the blood loss and pregnancy stage. She’d delivered several babies before, but they’d all been routine, full-term labors. This woman had to be toward the end of her first trimester or the beginning of her second. Lexi hadn’t seen her at the clinic before for any prenatal care.
The man seemed to waver on his feet.
“Jacey, we don’t want two patients right now.” Lexi glanced up at her and Jacey immediately skirted around the bed to go walk the man outside the tent. “We’ll take care of her. You were right to bring her in,” Lexi told him on his way out.
