Czytaj książkę: «The Marine's Return»

CHAPTER ONE

6½ Months Later

LEBOO STEELED HIMSELF against the metallic stench of blood and the sight of ripped flesh. What if there was a trail of blood leading here? What if he got caught? It didn’t matter at this point. He had no choice. He had to put his family first. That’s what brave ones did. They were fearless. They hardened their heart if that’s what it took to face danger or death. He was being tested. And he would prove himself worthy. Of being a man. A protector.

He pulled the roll of bandage wrap out of his pocket along with a handful of herbs he’d learned were good for clotting. It had to be enough until he could get his hands on something for infection. He eyed the gun that lay against the mass of mangled roots that formed the cave-like thicket camouflaged by a copse of elephant pepper trees and tall clumps of savannah grasses. He had to try. He had to stay alive. He’d do whatever he had to do...even if it meant killing.

* * *

LEXI GALEN TAPPED the syringe and slowly depressed the plunger until the last bubble of air escaped. Finally, the last vaccination for the day. She was so tired.

Maybe she shouldn’t have traveled so far yesterday. They’d taken their mobile medical unit to a Luo village farther north, closer to Lake Victoria. She wasn’t going to be able to endure those longer trips much longer, not now that she was well into her eighth month of pregnancy. She’d have to plan to stay closer to the rustic clinic she manned near the outskirts of the Masai Mara.

But that meant sacrificing patient care. There were children and other pregnant women in those more distant tribal villages who were counting on her. One was barely old enough to be called a woman.

She refocused on the patient at hand. “This will be over as fast as a cheetah can run,” she promised.

The little Masai boy clung to his mother and pressed his cheek against the numerous rows of orange, red and blue glass beads that adorned her chest.

“I’ll need you to hold him still for a moment,” Lexi said to the boy’s mother. Between the few words of broken Swahili she’d learned over the past five months and many of the villagers understanding English, the clinics were running more smoothly than when she’d first moved here.

Learning Maa was proving to be a little harder, but she was determined to at least understand the native Masai language before her baby became a toddler. She wanted her child to learn it, too...just as Tony would have wanted.

Lexi planned to build a life on the Serengeti, and she wanted to embrace everything about the land, including the people, languages and culture.

She swabbed and stuck the little boy’s arm. He wailed as all the others had...an aching sound that crushed her heart. Bless their hearts, she couldn’t blame them. They were too young to ignore the pain...too young to understand that she wanted to help them, not hurt them.

She’d learned to tune out children crying during her nursing career, for the most part, but today it was wearing her down. Her head hurt. Her lower back and legs ached more than they had in months.

She wasn’t complaining. Well, she wanted to, but she had no right to. This had been her idea. Her call. She had made the decision to drop everything, quit her position as a hospital RN in the US and move to Africa, pregnant and alone.

She glanced up and waved at the little boy as he and his mother left the clinic grounds. The child clung to his mother’s hand and disappeared with her down the stone-lined dirt path and around a copse of wild fig trees.

Here she was, in the middle of this vast, mesmerizing wilderness...but not far enough away to forget. Everything back in their apartment in America had reminded her of the way Tony must have suffered. The burn scars that had rendered him unrecognizable to anyone but her had haunted her. They still did.

He’d been a dedicated military doctor. They’d met less than a year prior to getting married, though they’d tried to stay in touch as much as possible during his tours in Afghanistan. They had talked every chance they could, despite the time difference. They’d been married only three weeks before he had returned to duty. His last tour. Technology had its advantages, but it couldn’t bring back the dead.

Sometimes she wondered if the fact that there had been a screen between them during much of their relationship had helped them to open up to each other more quickly. She’d never spoken as honestly about her past as she had to Tony. He’d known her parents had gone to prison on charges of fraud and embezzlement. Something no one else knew.

Her parents had been takers. Greedy in a way Lexi had sworn she’d never be. She was only nine years old when they were imprisoned. But it wasn’t until almost a year later, after being shuffled from one foster home to another, that she’d realized she would never live with her parents again. There had been no other relatives to take her in. She’d never forget her tenth birthday. That night, she had gone outside long after everyone in the house was in bed, sat in the cool grass and wished desperately on a star for a permanent family. One made up of good, loving people who cared about others. Givers.

But instead of getting her wish, her foster mother found her curled up in the dewy grass that morning and yelled at her for unlocking the door and wandering outside after midnight. The concern hadn’t been for her safety. She’d supposedly put the house at risk of getting robbed. That day had hardened her...made her a survivor. Relying on hopes, dreams and wishes wasn’t enough. She had to rely on herself.

And if the other children—fosters and non-fosters—she’d spent time with during her patchwork tween and teen years hadn’t been strong enough to rely on themselves, she’d taken care of them, too. That had led her to nursing school and, later, to Tony.

They’d met at the hospital during one of his short leaves in the States. He had been visiting a young woman—a medic—who’d been wounded while en route to the field hospital where he was stationed. Lexi had felt an instant connection with Tony. So immediate, it had scared her at first.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself from loving him. He had been just as open with her as she had been with him. He’d been an only child, too, except he’d had good parents. He’d been raised in Kenya and had grown up with his best friend who’d been like a brother to him. A brother who hadn’t been able to make it to her and Tony’s wedding because of his deployment. But Tony had promised he’d introduce her to him someday.

He’d also promised she would never be alone again.

Ever.

The last time they’d been together had been the final day of his leave, only three weeks into their marriage. He’d proposed as soon as he had returned home from duty and they were married that week. In retrospect, she wondered if he’d somehow sensed he might not make it back and it had been his way of ensuring that he kept his promise in one form or another. They had married, honeymooned locally...then he’d had to return to duty. And then their life together ended. Just like that. He’d been gone less than two weeks when he was injured.

She’d rushed to be by his side but he’d been in a medically induced coma. One he never awoke from.

His death had felt like the sharp edge of a knife twisting and carving its way through her chest. She’d lost everything that day. She’d thought she had nothing left to lose...until she’d discovered she was pregnant on the day of his funeral.

Lexi’s eyes burned from the memory. She blinked and sniffed to stop any tears from falling, then focused on clearing her clinic supplies. She needed to keep her head. Tony had never been comfortable around emotional outbursts or signs of weakness. She needed to stay strong for him...for his baby.

This had been Tony’s dream—to complete his service as a marine medic then return to his father’s native Kenya to set up a clinic and provide medical care to tribal villages that were in dire need. After he’d told her about visiting his grandmother at a Masai village, Lexi had understood his vision. She’d assured him she’d wanted to be part of it and they’d had their future here all planned out. Living in Kenya would be a fresh start for her...a way to leave the past behind and build a future with family.

They were supposed to be here, in Kenya’s wild west, working side by side. And even though Tony had died, there was no way she could let that dream die. Being here honored him. Being here was the only way she knew how to stay strong. And for all the broken promises she’d suffered in her life, she would never break the one she’d whispered to him moments before he was gone—that she would find a way to fulfill their dream to bring medical care to the Masai and other tribes. She’d do it for him. She’d do it for the only family she’d ever had.

She picked up a small box of supplies off the table and headed for the storage room built against the side of their bungalow. They always had the exam tent on the other side of the clinic camp stocked, but there wasn’t enough room there to store all their supplies.

“I finished the inventory,” her assistant, Jacey, said, knotting her long dark hair at the nape of her neck. “We need more alcohol wipes and gauze bandages. Everything else is good for now. I don’t know where all these supplies went, though. I could have sworn we had more, but I guess between all the clinics we held this week and yesterday’s trip, we used more than anticipated. I’ll restock in here first thing in the morning.”

Lexi was lucky to have Jacey, who had been working as a tech assistant out here at least three to four months before Lexi signed on.

“Makes sense. Thanks for making a list. What would I do without you? I’ll add them to the order this evening. I need to eat first,” Lexi said.

Lexi set the box she was carrying on an empty spot and headed back to the folding table where she’d been vaccinating kids. Jacey followed her out to the central, courtyard-like clearing where they held outdoor clinics, and grabbed another box off of the table. Lexi picked up the hard, plastic, biohazard container carrying discarded needles, then returned to the storage room.

“How are you holding up?” Jacey pulled a key out from around her neck and locked the dented metal cabinet that housed their vaccine and antibiotic vials, HIV screening supplies and prescription pills for most of the conditions they encountered. Less expensive supplies, such as bandages, were kept in a separate cabinet, unlocked because it didn’t come with one, but secure enough to keep dust and insects out of it. Besides, they always locked the storage room door, too. The only place some things weren’t secured was in the exam tent, but they were always in and out of it and it was easily seen from the bungalow across the clearing. Lexi set the biohazard container down.

In the grand scheme of things, they had meager supplies considering the number of people they saw in a day. Inadequate supplies, really, given the conditions she was treating. The fact that they couldn’t do more for some of the tribal children and their parents ate away at Lexi every night.

It roused memories of when one of her foster “sisters,” a girl five years younger, had come down with a fever, yet instead of using the foster check to buy medicine or to pay for a doctor’s visit or even to make soup, their foster mom had simply given her acetaminophen and told her to stay in bed. Had it not been for Lexi caring for the little girl, no one would have comforted her, given her cold cloths or gotten up at night to check on her.

But medicine itself had limits, too. Doctors and nurses hadn’t been able to do more for Tony, either, and he’d had access to state-of-the-art medicine and the best care possible. The burns and shrapnel wounds had been more than Tony’s body could handle.

“I’m okay. Could use food and a nap, though,” she said, as Jacey followed her back outside. “Where’s Taj?”

Taj, a medical resident, came out to the clinic most weekends and was always willing to help out in any capacity. With only three of them on staff, even the most menial duties were shared. Right now, Lexi needed him to take down the temporary canopy they’d used for shade. She knew better than to try to take it down herself. At this point in her pregnancy, into her thirty-fifth week, balance and coordination were not her forte. Besides, it was more weight than she was willing to risk carrying. Her baby came first.

“Taj will be here in a sec. He’s still in the exam tent, finishing up with the older fellow with the abscess on his foot. You can wash up. We’re basically done,” Jacey said.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Go on. We’ve got this. I’ll help him take down the canopy, too.”

Lexi squeezed Jacey’s shoulder and smiled her thanks as she dragged her feet to the bungalow that served as their living quarters. She lumbered up the three steps to the bungalow’s front porch, ducked inside to grab a bottle of water, then headed back out onto their narrow front porch. She collapsed onto one of the wicker chairs. There was more of a breeze out here than inside. Plus, she liked closing her eyes and listening to the sounds of Africa. The trumpeting, roars, high-pitched calls and rumbles all made her feel at home. It was a natural lullaby. It made up for the rustic and outdated living quarters.

The small plaster-and-clay bungalow they lived in had two tiny, dorm-size rooms with cots for sleeping, a kitchenette and the main sitting room—still small—where clinic records were stored in a file cabinet against the wall. Jacey and Lexi shared one room and either the clinic’s founding doctor, Hope Alwanga, or Taj used the other, depending on who was covering the weekend.

As a medical resident, Taj took care of anything Lexi wasn’t licensed to do at the clinic. But he had obligations back in Nairobi where he was finishing up his hospital residency. He tried to make it out to the rural clinic as much as possible because giving back to the communities where he grew up was important to him.

He was a lot like Tony in that respect. Lexi loved that about him. Both men were reminders that there were good people in the world. She took the fact that Taj’s goals mirrored Tony’s as a sign that she was on the right path. That she belonged here even if she was technically an outsider. Tony had been her only family, which made this land a part of her through love and marriage and a part of their child through blood. She felt more rooted to this place than she’d ever felt anywhere in her life. She felt accepted.

She took another swig of water and pushed her short hair off of her forehead.

Even Hope Alwanga had taken her under her wing, making sure that Lexi had good prenatal care. Hope used to make it out here herself more often, but she was also running a pediatric practice in Nairobi and venturing out with a separate mobile medical unit to as many rural areas as she could.

Most people out here knew “Dr. Hope.” Many of them hadn’t seen a doctor before Hope had established her mobile clinic program for the Masai Mara and surrounding areas decades ago. Being of Luo decent and passionate about helping children, Hope had wanted to give back, as well. It was as if Lexi had finally met kindred spirits.

Hope had told Lexi that this static clinic was only a few years old, yet the staff turnaround had been high. Living out here wasn’t for the average person, but Lexi had never considered herself average. Given her past, she’d always felt a bit like a nomad, so the move from America hadn’t fazed her at all.

When she’d seen the online ad for a registered nurse willing to live and work in rural Kenya, she responded immediately. The timing had been perfect. She’d still been numb from burying Tony and, to top it off, she’d discovered she was pregnant. The news had been a bittersweet gift she’d never gotten to share with him.

As far as Lexi was concerned, the job posting had been a sign. It was as if Tony had been opening a door...nudging her to pursue their dream instead of losing herself in mourning.

She’d answered the ad and Hope had responded. The two women had instantly bonded. Hope’s son—also a marine—had been injured during a mission only a week before the attack on Tony’s field hospital. And it was Hope that made the connection between the two men. Her son, Chad, was the friend Tony had grown up with, the one who hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding.

She touched her belly. The thought of losing one’s child... She shuddered. This was why she hated sitting around and resting, even if she needed to. It gave her idle time to think and her thoughts, more often than not, only reminded her of what she’d lost.

Hope was lucky her son had survived. Injured, yes, though she hadn’t divulged all the details of Chad’s injuries. But at least he’d survived. At least he had loving parents—a father who could understand what he’d been through and a mother who, as a doctor, could help him heal or at least make sure he was getting the care he needed.

Since coming to the clinic, Lexi had met Hope’s daughter, a human rights lawyer who was well known for helping Kenya’s indigenous tribes, and Hope’s younger sons, currently in college, but she’d never met Chad. He’d only recently returned to Kenya and, according to Hope, he was far from healed.

Hope often lamented, with all the love and anguish of a mother, that Chad was the most stubborn, impossible patient she’d ever tried to work with. She’d been struggling to pull him out of a depression and to motivate him to resume therapy, physical and psychological, in Nairobi. But it was an uphill battle.

Lexi couldn’t blame him after the trauma he’d suffered, but she also knew motivation had to come from within. A person had to want to survive all that life threw at them. They had to want to find a way to chase their goals, even if it meant taking a different path. She’d heard of individuals who, after being told they’d never walk again, had learned to not only walk but to dance. Unlike Tony, Chad still had his life ahead of him. She wouldn’t feel sorry for him if he chose to waste it.

“I heard my name,” Taj said, stepping out from the exam tent. He paused to say goodbye to his last patient, a thin, lanky man whose cheekbones were framed by beaded loop earrings that reached his shoulders. The man gave a toothy smile and nodded his appreciation, then adjusted a red-and-orange shuka that was draped over his shoulder and headed down the dirt path for home.

“You need help cleaning up in there?” Lexi asked, nodding her head at the tent, which stood about twenty meters across the clearing from the bungalow. Her legs didn’t want to move so she kind of hoped he didn’t.

“No, I’ll get it. And this,” he said, grabbing the table Lexi had used to hold her vaccine trays. He folded the legs in and leaned the table against the peeling plaster of the clinic wall. “I’ll put that away in a second. Jacey can help me with the rest. Sitting there isn’t enough. You need to raise your legs. You should go lie down before your feet swell to the size of an elephant’s. I still think you should come back to Nairobi with me and let Dr. Hope find someone else to staff this place.”

“Not happening. I’m fine here. It’s good for me. Being sedentary while pregnant isn’t. But I’ll take you up on raising my feet. I’ll be inside. Oh, and if someone can get their hands on some chocolate-chip ice cream and potato chips in the next five minutes, my hormones will love you.”

“Good luck with that.” Jacey chuckled as she helped Taj pull the legs of the canopy out from the dry, red earth.