by Selena Kitt
“She’s always a professional. That’s not going to be an issue. Haiti, itself, wasn’t the problem – it started the problem. She has to face Haiti. Before her depression declines into something more than she can deal with. Besides she’s got the perfect skill set and experience, as you well know. Plus she’s available on short notice.”
Depression? She stared at him, her attention snagging on that one word. That was it. One simple word? Then she remembered a period in Duncan’s life, just after their father died. She’d been away in college several years by that time, buffered from the emotional element, but Duncan had been there taking the full blast of guilt from her father’s suicide.
“Is that what you felt?” She hadn’t known. Not really. How could she have? To understand such darkness, such sadness in others she had to have experienced these emotions first herself. Shit. So typical. Was everyone blind to what didn’t immediately affect them? Duncan had had it hard then too – and she hadn’t noticed.
“Oh yes. The thing is, Sis, you can honor the grief you feel for the loss of your child, and the horror you felt for all those people in Haiti, but you can’t let this beat you. You need to pick yourself up and grab hold of the reins of your life. Reacting to a stimulus is one thing…wallowing is another thing entirely. When you know what you’re doing and choose to do nothing, then…” He sat back, his gaze warm and caring. “Whereas Tony is offering you a chance to step up and out of this place…and move forward.”
Tony leaned forward. “Uh, maybe I’m offering this chance.”
Duncan and Jade ignored him.
Jade traveled from one realization to another as they slid through her, lighting all the dark places she’d clung to in her mind. Her grief was real and was valid. Her distress was also justified. She had a right to feel the way she did. Validation was empowering. Her anger at her fiancé wasn’t something she had a problem honoring… Still not doing something about this hollowness inside … Duncan was right… That was not acceptable.
She sat back as understanding dawned. “And…now that I do know…and don’t do anything about it…it’s self-pity?”
He grinned, pride and love shining at her. “Exactly. And now that you do know, you can’t continue on the same path. And by your own words…”
She winced, hearing her voice from past conversations. “I don’t do self-pity.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head back. “Not fair. I don’t know that I can do Haiti again.”
“Maybe this time, you could see the healing. The people who have turned their lives around and moved on. You could find the positive and let that heal you too.”
She groaned. “You’re so into that new age mumbo jumbo.”
“It’s me.”
She couldn’t argue that. Abruptly, she turned to face Tony. “What’s the job?”
Surprised, and looking a little disturbed, he answered, “My client wants to retrieve three members of his family from a mass grave and bring them home. The team leader on the project is Dr. Bruce McLeod.”
“Mass grave?” That didn’t bother her. She’d done those before. It was true; she knew she handled death well. She just didn’t handle the ‘people dying’ part so well – especially on a large scale…well. “How mass?”
He peered over the rim of his glasses. “We have it on good notice that there are close to a hundred people buried in a grave outside of Jacmel.”
Jacmel. She wracked her head for the little geographical information she’d allowed to rattle around inside. The opposite side of Port-au-Prince to where she’d been last time. Where her life had been flattened. “Is his family Haitian?”
Tony tilted his head, a curious look on his face. “Yes. Does it matter?”
“No. Identification would be easier if we’re looking for three Caucasians in a mix of dark-haired Haitians, for example. After a year, there is likely to be hair still attached, making identification easier.”
“My understanding is that the grave contains mostly locals with a few tourists that were there at the time.”
She nodded. She liked the idea of doing something to help someone. This could work. Close to – but not the same as – what she’d been through before. She’d been stronger going into it then. But she’d also been unprepared. She’d be neither of those things this time.
“How long?”
“As long as it takes to get the job done. My client isn’t worried about the cost, within reason, and he’s willing to have the other bodies in the grave identified and processed along with his family. The team will leave the information with whatever officials there are in place to help identify those victims. The families will then have the choice of what to do.”
“That’s generous. What about reburial of the others for the families with no money?”
Tony grimaced. “This is obviously a sensitive issue and we’re working toward a happy resolution for everyone. It may not be possible to identify everyone and it’s quite possible that many, if not all, of those people will need to be reburied in the same grave. And though he’s generous, the expenditures must fit in his budget.”
Duncan leaned back and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his faded jeans. “Whew. That’s going to be some job.”
Shooting him a mocking look, Jade asked, “Still willing to come with me?”
He brightened. “Absolutely. I can travel and socialize while you work.”
Her leg shot out and connected with his ankle.
“Hey, I was just kidding.” He shifted out of the way, sending her an injured look.
The happy relief in his eyes made her realize just how much he was hoping she’d come around to his way of thinking. “You’d better be.”
“If I could give you a few more details,” Tony interrupted. “You’d be leaving in one week. The plan is to give it three months and reassess. We’ve been assured this is a decent time frame for our needs. There could be some adjustment down the road, depending on the progress.” He glanced down at his notebook. “Of course…as I said there is a budget in place. So…” He narrowed his gaze at her. “We’ll work out many of the details over there.”
“I have a job here, remember? I’d have to give notice…not to mention I’d have the problem of no job when I come home.” She frowned. She couldn’t walk out on her boss on such short notice like that. Neither could she afford to be jobless when she returned in three months. Relief swept through her. There’s no way she could go. She opened her mouth to say just that when Duncan spoke first.
“Now don’t be getting mad, Jade, however, I’ve spoken with Gerard already after Tony and I discussed the issue in greater depth.”
“You what?” Her voice came out as an incredulous squeak. “You called my boss? Are you nuts? I’m lucky he didn’t fire me yesterday.”
Duncan grinned. “On the contrary. And don’t forget, he and I go way back. He actually liked the idea. He thought this placement might just do the trick for you.”
Now her astonishment turned to anger. Like a too old rubber band, her emotions seemed to stretch thin and snap easily. “I don’t like you talking about me behind my back.”
“Then don’t act in such a way that the people who care about you feel they need to get involved secretly.”
“Whatever.” She shot him a fulminating look. Why did big brothers only come in arrogant, high-handed models? Her anger flowed until he spoke again.
“He cares and so do I. The bottom line is you can leave for three months and your job will be here when you get back.”
Her protests died on her tongue. She was too weary to continue the fight. A fight she knew he’d win. He loved her. It was hard to argue with her self-proclaimed saviour. Besides, he was right. She couldn’t continue on the same self-destructive path. Someone had to do something.
That someone had been him.
Now it was up to her.
Dane walked toward the main house, tucking his t-shirt into faded jeans, admiring the play of the sun on the bright trumpet-l
ike flowers bouncing in the breeze. Haiti had a lot to offer. At least this area. The countryside was green and lush, the rolling hills and white beaches some of the nicest he’d ever seen. The people were wholesome and strong in faith even after the disasters they’d faced. He’d loved his time here.
It was coming to an end; he knew that. His future didn’t lie here. He knew he’d wake up one day and know it was time to go home. He hoped it would be after the birth of his niece or nephew.
“Aren’t you up early today?” His brother’s voice came from the vicinity of the patio.
“Look who’s talking.” Dane grinned at his brother, unshaven and tousled, huddling over a large mug of coffee. “Bad night?”
“Tasha said the baby was playing soccer with her bladder all night. She must have gotten out of bed a dozen times.”
Dane barely held in his laughter. “Ah the joys of impending fatherhood.” He walked toward the kitchen door. “Did you leave any coffee in the pot?”
“I left some. I don’t know that Tasha did.”
Dane grimaced. Tasha was pretty reasonable most of the time, but he’d been witness to a few of her ‘I’m pregnant, don’t mess with me’ moments. And they seemed to be more frequent now. He stuck his head inside first, gauged the small room to be empty and strode over to the coffee pot where he quickly grabbed a cupful and made a fast exit.
Back outside, his brother was chuckling. “Made it I see. She’s gone back to bed, anyway, so I imagine you’re safe enough.”
“You could have told me that before I went in there thinking I was risking my life.” Dane pulled over the second wooden chair and sat down to enjoy the morning.
“Nah, if I have to risk my life, you might as well, too.”
“There’s a brother for you.” The two sat in companionable silence. Dane marveled at a location where the weather sat every day at a comfortable seventy-five to eighty degrees. He knew it fluctuated sometimes, but during his stay it had been remarkably consistent.
Suddenly, Tasha stormed outside, the door slamming behind her. Dane took one look at the building fury on her face, blinked and turned slightly away. John was going to have to deal with this one.
“They can’t come. You tell them they can’t do this. It ain’t right.” She shifted into a spat of guttural Creole, making Dane grateful for his less than rudimentary understanding of the language.
John closed his eyes briefly then opened them and faced his Haitian wife while Dane looked on. “Now, honey. We’ve been over this. Just because I say they can’t come isn’t going to stop them.”
“Why not? That property is ours.”
“No, it’s not.” John’s weary voice went over ground that he had obviously covered many times. Dane took a sip of coffee and tried not to show any interest. Tasha’s black hair stood on end; her face was puffy, her dark skin splotchy. Her large belly, covered by an old stretched t-shirt that hung low, covered the bulk of the goofy boxer shorts she wore. Dane had seen other pregnant women, just none that reacted like Tasha. The longer he stayed, the more he worried about his sister-in-law’s mental and emotional health. John never seemed to notice. Love had to be blind.
“Honey, I’ve told you before. That land borders the family land, but it’s not ours.”
“It’s land we’ve used since forever; it should be ours.” She pouted and collapsed on the arm of his chair beside him, the tempest over for now. “We think of it as ours.”
John grinned and tugged her closer.
“Except it isn’t. I know you think it’s wrong, however you might want to try to see their point of view for a moment. If that were your family thrown into a large pit in another country, wouldn’t you want to bring them home? Have a place where you could visit them? Talk to them? Grieve for them?”
She frowned. “I understand that. I’m not heartless. I feel sorry for the family… I do. What about all the other people buried there though? Some of them could be friends. Family. I don’t know who’s buried there. I do know it’s bad luck to wake the dead. We need to honor their souls and let them rest.”
“Maybe we can do something for the other people, too. And no one is talking about waking the dead. We’re hoping to give the dead – and the living – peace. We’ve gone over this. It’s in progress and we can’t stop it.”
“I still want to.”
Dane buried his smile in his thick ceramic mug. She sounded more like a truculent child now. He could see her point, but his brother was right – the process had already started. By this time next week, the grave would be open.
She’d see then. Nothing bad would come of this.
Chapter Three
The heat hit her first. She’d forgotten how strong and heavy the air smelled. Being March, the humidity shouldn’t be bad until they were almost finished with the job here. Jade stepped out of the airport in Port-au-Prince and walked the tarmac toward the waiting vehicles. Now she almost wished her brother was beside her. But they’d both decided it would be better if he came in a month or so.
She took a deep breath. Christ. She was really here.
There were seven team members. A smallish enough group to get to know, but big enough they’d get the job done. Beside Bruce, the leader, there was Dr. Mike a forensic anthropologist, but with more degrees than she had herself, and Meg Pearce. There were two other men who would double as computer nerds and work at the gravesite. There was a third female in the group, Susan, but Jade had forgotten the details. It wouldn’t take long to get to know each other. She hoped. Meeting new people wasn’t normally an issue for her, but this last year of hermit living hadn’t been good in that sense. She was nervous. And that was stupid. She was good at what she did. She wanted to help on this project. She could do this.
And she’d almost convinced herself.
Taking several deep breaths, she allowed herself to really look at the area. The last time she’d flown in with the army. She’d been whisked in and whisked out and had worked most of the time behind tight security. This time they’d taken a commercial flight. When they landed there was no army, no police – no security of any kind.
Intense blue skies smiled down on her. She almost believed everything was going to be alright.
Almost.
Her gaze wandered the surrounding areas as they made their way to the rental vehicles. Some things hadn’t changed. Collapsed buildings still dotted the terrain; abandoned vehicles had been dragged off the main roads to clog fields and side roads. The biggest differences were the lack of bodies decorating the landscape and the roads were now passable.
It took a good ten minutes – with her eyes darting from side to side searching for bodies and hoping not to find them – before she finally believed that death wasn’t going to plague her every step. She breathed a sigh of relief feeling the almost unbearable tension draining from her system.
Haiti was obviously in recovery mode.
Thank God.
They planned to stay outside of the city center for the night to wait for gear, supplies and mainly the paperwork. They would continue on to Jacmel in the morning.
“Come on Jade, stop gawking. We’ll get time to sightsee later.” Meg, one of the forensic anthropologists on the team, grinned at her. Tall, slim and energetic, Meg’s initial friendliness had enfolded Jade, easing the uncertainty of her decision.
Meg waved toward the three SUVs leased for the duration of the job. The team climbed into the vehicles and within an hour were booked in at a small and homey hotel. It appeared to have survived the earthquake unscathed. Complete streets were ripped apart in other parts of the city. Some portions were buried under collapsed buildings while others were perfect. So much of the city had been leveled but there were pockets, like around the hotel, that appeared untouched.
The tent cities were new. They’d been tin cities the last time Jade was here. The garbage lining the streets, the alleys, the sidewalks was still the same. It was as if many people were stuck in a time warp, unable to move forwar
d and leave the disaster behind.
Mother Nature had a hit-and-miss hate thing going on.
After dinner, Meg and Jade stood outside the hotel and surveyed the streets for signs of progress. Stores were open, and doing brisk business. Port-au-Prince had been a thriving metropolis at one time. Jade didn’t think recovery had restored that level of economic progress and stability. But poverty had always been a major part of life here. It looked to be the same. Not that she’d spent any time sightseeing on her last trip. There’d been nothing nice to see.
“Wow. Looks like the area still needs time to recover economically. Although I guess it’s better than it was a year ago.” Meg sat on the stone fence, her long, jean-clad legs swinging loose. She ran a hand through her short, dark blond hair. She glanced over at Jade. “Are you ready for this?”
“Ready for what?” Jade asked absentmindedly, her focus on the surrounding scene so similar and yet so different than before. She leaned back against the stone fence and looked at her colleague.
“The job we’re here to do. It’s not likely to be much fun.” Meg pointed to the wreckage of cars heaped off to one side, surrounded by tall weeds. “I didn’t expect to see this level of refuse strewn about. It’s easy to be unaware of what’s required in a country’s recovery unless you’re actually on location.”
“True enough. No, the job isn’t likely to be much fun, but it’ll be meaningful.” Jade smiled, her heart lighter already. Her words had been instinctive, coming from her heart. The job had purpose, not as necessary for the masses as her previous one to Haiti, but still important. And there wasn’t the same urgency or panic to this second visit. That helped her keep calm and focused.
“Come on. We need to go to bed if we want to get an early start.”
They wandered into the hotel, saying good night to the other team members. At their rooms, Jade was pleasantly surprised to see she had a room to herself. There were three women and four men on the team. The others seemed normal and upbeat; Jade found herself relaxing and looking forward to her time here.