Violets in February (3 page)

She tugged the card out of her pocket and ran her fingers over the picture of the violets on the front. At least her mother had remembered her birthday. No one else had. Not that she had many friends, but she'd half expected her church contact to have sent something. But nothing else had come.

Aside from her mother, the only thing from England she missed was violets.

Dried ones just weren't the same. They didn't have the scent she loved so much and the vibrant color that gave the flowers their name was faded.

Footsteps echoed on the verandah, and she shoved the card back in her pocket. She didn't want anyone seeing it.

The door opened and a man stood there, a child in his arms. A trail of blood led behind him and across the sand. His shirt was stained with blood, and Lucy couldn't tell if it was his or the child's or both. “Please…” he managed in Swahili. “Help her.”

Snapping right back into work mode, Lucy glanced over at the game and yelled in English towards them. “Tim, Vic, Mani, I need you.” She glanced back at the man and switched back into Swahili. “Bring her this way. What happened to her?”

“Men,” he whispered, walking with her. “In the jungle. They attacked us.”

Lucy frowned. “How many men?”

“Too many. Uniforms…I could not protect her.”

She touched his arm reassuringly as three men ran into the room behind them. “Go with Tim, give him the details. Mani, you and Vic scrub up and prepare the equipment.”

“I can't leave her,” the man protested. “They killed my wife and my son. They killed all the others, burned the village. She is all I have left.”

“Let me take care of her now. You tell Tim all you know and we might be able to catch these men.”

The man laid his daughter on the exam table. As he did, he gasped, his hand going to his side, and his eyes rolling up into his head.

Lucy caught him as he fell. “I got you.”

~*~

Jed picked up his dinner and headed towards the door. He intended to eat alone in his room. Being around Christians all the time like this made his skin crawl.

Soccer was different; everyone was on an equal playing field, literally, with no pun intended. Background, faith—and he used the term lightly—didn't matter.

But this? This was more than he could stomach.

Tim waved at him from where he sat at a table with three other missionaries and Dr. Boyd.

He half-heartedly waved back. What was the sheila doing here? Why wasn't she attending to her oh-so-important patients? Unless she did give herself a break sometimes.

“Jed, come and join us.”

He sighed, plastered a fixed smile on his face, and changed direction. The woman's face fell as he drew closer. She obviously didn't like him any more than he liked her. He didn't need a degree in rocket science to work that one out.

Well, he wasn't gonna sit where he wasn't wanted. “Nah, I'll just take the tucker to my room.”

“Don't be silly,” Tim insisted, in that really annoying, over-friendly way he had. “There's plenty of space here. And we'd like you to join us.”

“OK.” He slowly closed the gap between him and the table. He put his plate down and swung his leg over the back of the chair before sitting. “So, what do you blokes do for entertainment in the evenings here?”

“Tonight is prayer and Bible study,” Tim said. “You're welcome to join us.”

Jed picked up his fork. “Not my bowl of rice, but thanks anyway.” He started eating.

“Aren't you going to say grace?” The disapproval was evident in the female voice.

“Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub,” he said, looking at her. He shoved another fork of food into his mouth.

Lucy rolled her eyes and picked up her glass of water.

He raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Dr. Boyd?” he asked, chewing slowly

“No, Mr. Gorman, nothing's wrong. Everything is hunky dory just the way it should be. How's your hand?”

“Sore, but fine.”

“Good.” She put her glass down. “The stiches can come out in a couple of days. I suggest you try to keep the wound as dry as possible until then.”

Jed looked at his bandaged hand. “And just how do you propose I do that? Not wash for two days?” he asked, lacing his words with more colorful expletives.

“Not swearing would be a start,” she muttered. “As would covering it with a plastic bag in the shower.”

He dropped his fork to the table with a clunk. Speaking around the food in his mouth, he held her gaze. He'd use the line that always shocked his succession of foster mothers into silence. “Bloody's in the Bible…”

Her eyes narrowed, becoming tiny black spots. He could almost see her hackles rise. The woman did have emotions after all. She sat up straight. “You mean like Psalm fifty-nine verse two, deliver me from the workers of iniquity and save me from bloody men. Or Psalm twenty-six verse nine, gather not my soul with sinners, nor my life with bloody men. Or how about Psalm one hundred and thirty-six verse nineteen, depart from me therefore, ye bloody men.”

Pushing to her feet, she snatched her plate from the table. “I know the Bible far better than you do, Mr. Gorman, so don't play hard and fast with me.”

Jed's jaw dropped. The uptight woman actually got one over on him. But boy, she could give as good as she got.

Tim caught her arm. “Lucy?”

“Look it up, Tim. Every reference to bloody in the King James Version is followed by the word men or husband. It's also translated as bloodthirsty. Now, if you don't mind, gentlemen, I'm going to call it a night. I've had a rotten day, and have a pile of paperwork and police reports to fill out tonight. Not to mention a sick patient to watch.”

Jed kept his gaze on her as she stormed across the dining room and outside. She was pretty when she was angry, he'd grant her that much. And she had spirit. But she was wasted in a whoop whoop place like this. He turned back to the others. “
She
had a rotten day?”

Tim nodded. “Remember that kid that was brought in while we were playing football? She and her family fell foul of the guerrillas in the jungle. The rest of the family was slaughtered. The dad didn't make it and its touch and go with the little girl. They cut her up pretty badly.” He faltered. “I'm not going to say what else they did to her.”

Jed groaned. That explained the woman's reaction and all the quotes about bloody men. “Strewth. No, you don't need to. I know the way they work. The jungle is no place for a woman. She shouldn't be alone out there.”

“We have guards posted on the gates after dark.”

“That won't stop them. How can you believe in a God that lets little girls be assaulted, families slaughtered and so on?”

“God doesn't let it happen. It happens because we have free will to act how we want,” Tim told him. “What God does is oversee everything to make sure things work ultimately for good.”

Jed closed his eyes, fighting the desire to punch the guy. “See, this is precisely why I don't have time for your God.” He put his fork down having completely lost his appetite. “Do you have a computer here, and the Internet? I promised a friend I'd check in tonight and he'll only worry if I don't contact him.”

“Sure. The Net is pretty basic, depending on the signal, but it does for email. It's in the main office. You know where that is?”

Jed nodded, scraping his chair back and standing. “Sure, cheers. G'night.” He made a hasty exit, hoping the office would be empty. The last thing he wanted was for someone to see him struggle with the computer.

~*~

Lucy sat in the office, finishing the paperwork. After the day she'd had she wanted to talk to a colleague in the city, but the radio wasn't working. Or, rather, the connection wasn't happening. Her eyes burned with tears she wouldn't allow to fall.

She didn't have time for emotion. Emotion was for weak people, and she was far from that. The only emotion that filled her was rage, and she was trying to conquer that.

The door opened behind her and she put the radio down. The footsteps were heavy and she recognized the heady mix of scents from the clinic earlier. Jed Gorman. Was he following her?

“Can I help you?” Even to her, her voice sounded gruff and unwelcoming.

“Tim said I could use the Internet.”

“Over there. You'll need to log on to the system. The password is John three sixteen, mostly all lowercase. Three is a number. J and I are uppercase.”

The chair behind her creaked as he sat down. “Come again?”

She kept her back to him. “Capital J-o-h-n, numeral three, s, capital I, x-t-e-e-n.”

“Umm…I don't…”

“Here.” She leaned over and typed rapidly. “Easy when you know how.”

“Thanks. I didn't thank you for fixing my hand earlier.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You're welcome. That's the browser icon right there.” Lucy headed to the door. “If you need pain meds later, my room is off the clinic.”

She closed the door behind her and headed across the compound. She wanted to sit with the little girl. She had no idea what her name was, or whether she'd survive the night, but she wouldn't let her die alone. Or die at all if she could help it.

Grabbing a change of scrubs and her wash kit, Lucy headed over to the shower block. She felt so dirty. Not just because of the way the day had gone, but the company she'd been forced to endure on and off all day. She had no idea where God was going by throwing the two of them together in this way, but Mr. Gorman would be leaving in the morning and that would be an end of it. Well, for two weeks.

She showered quickly before the hot water ran out and then headed back to the clinic. The dirty scrubs should go in the wash. She checked the pockets first, but the card was missing. A bolt shot through her. Where could it be? She dashed quickly back to the shower block, but the shower was in use and the card was nowhere in sight.

Where could it be? She headed to the dining hut, but there were too many people in there for her to start searching. They'd only want to know what she was looking for and then the secret would be out. Heaving a sigh, she trudged back to the clinic, unsure how much worse the day could possibly get. At least it was almost over.

Lucy put a hand on the clinic handle. The door gave and swung inwards. She knew she'd shut it behind her. She pushed the door fully open. “Hello? Is someone in there?” She grabbed the broken baseball bat she'd hidden behind the bench on the verandah, and took several steps into the room. Hefting the bat she glanced around. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Movement in the corner of the room had her whirling around, club raised high over her shoulder. “I see you.”

Jed Gorman stepped out of the shadows, hands raised. “Strewth. Take it easy, lady. You could kill someone with that.”

Lucy dropped the bat to the floor. “That would be the idea. Or at least knock them out long enough to call the cavalry. What do you want?”

“I came for those pain meds.”

“Sure.” She pulled the chain from around her neck, and used the key on it to unlock the drugs cabinet. “How bad is the pain on a scale of one to ten?”

“About a five, but it'll keep me awake and I can't have that. I have to drive in the morning. I'm planning on shooting through after brekkie.”

She handed him some pain killers. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” He pulled a card out of his pocket. “You dropped this in the compound. I figured you mightn't want just anyone to find it.” His touch burned as he handed it to her. “G'night.”

“Thank you. Night.”

His footsteps headed down the wooden boards.

Lucy shut the door and boarded it. She didn't usually lock it, but tonight, she felt safer that way. Then she tiptoed into the clinic. The young girl was sleeping. Lucy prayed she'd stay that way all night. She stretched out on the cot next to her and set her alarm for forty minutes. Then she'd be up for twenty, sleep another forty. Tiring and exhausting, but it needed to be done.

Around six in the morning, her patient took a turn for the worse. The little girl died just as Jed's truck pulled out of the compound.

Lucy barely glanced up, finally letting tears fall, for the young girl with no name, whom she'd been unable to save.

3

Jed spent the following two weeks busy. The idea was to keep himself so busy he wouldn't have time to think. But try as he might, he couldn't get that blonde sheila out of his mind. The way she moved, spoke, the way the light caught her hair and her pretty blue eyes—made him feel something he never thought he'd feel again. But stacked against that was the way she belittled him, embarrassed him, and humiliated him. His face burned every time he thought of the tetanus incident. And it took a lot to embarrass him.

He'd been there, seen and done that, several times, and nothing, repeat nothing, would get under his skin. And this woman wasn't going to, either. Women were the downfall of men. He remembered that much from the Sunday School lessons he'd been forced to attend as a child. Eve tempted Adam. Therefore, the root of all evil in this world was women.

He finished loading his Ute for the trip back to the mission complex. The pot of violets sat on top of a box, almost jeering at him. He had no idea what made him buy it—other than the ‘saw this and thought of you' line, which was as corny as they came.

She didn't deserve the flowers. Not after the way she'd treated him, and especially after the way she'd ogled him and touched him when she gave him the shot.

His thoughts became more colorful. He flexed his hand. The doc in the city had told him that uptight missionary woman, Jed's words, not the doc's, had done a good job, which meant he might get away with no scar. But really, what would one more scar be? His whole body was mapped with tattoos and scars that told his life story. His gaze fell on the flowers once more. It was, had been, her birthday, and it was obvious that no one knew or cared about it. He'd slot them into the crate of med supplies and be gone before she noticed them.