Out of the Shadows

by Melanie Mitchell

  Ben didn’t try to hide his interest. “What do you mean?”

  Judy scraped the pineapple pieces into a bowl. “It’s a little difficult to pinpoint exactly. She seemed very happy to see us. She hugged me and the children, but she was edgy...like she would fall apart if someone just said ‘boo.’” She shrugged. “I’ve never seen her like that. She’s always upbeat and eager to talk with the kids and me. But not today. She looked like she’d been crying or was trying not to cry.” She wiped her hands on a clean towel and turned to carry plates containing baked chicken, warm vegetables and homemade bread to the table. “The more I think about it, the more I’m worried.”

  She turned back to him, and her expression mirrored her words. “I should have tried to talk with her this morning, but I was tired from being up with Stephen. You know, if Paul were here, I think I would send him over to visit with her tonight, or I might even go myself and spend the night. But with the kids...” Her voice trailed off.

  Ben helped her carry plates and cutlery to the table. Judy’s concern was contagious. Was Leslie ill? Had something happened at the clinic? Had she received bad news from home? He tried to sound nonchalant. “I suppose I could stop by on my way home.”

  “Would you?” Judy looked relieved. “I was kind of hoping you might. It’s probably nothing. She might just need someone from home to talk to... I get that way from time to time.”

  Ben left right after dinner. He offered to help with the dishes, but Judy shooed him on, telling him that he needed to see Leslie and get home before he collapsed. At Judy’s suggestion, he took one of the cartons of ice cream.

  “Don’t you know that ice cream is a cure for virtually every kind of malady—mental or physical?” Judy exclaimed. Laughingly, she added, “The only thing more effective is chocolate!”

  Dusk was approaching when Ben pulled up to the clinic compound. Titus had evidently heard the vehicle, and he appeared from the direction of his cabin to open the gate.

  “Jambo, young Ben,” the older man said. Ben returned the greeting and explained in Titus’s dialect that he had brought Leslie a gift. Titus nodded and hid a knowing smile as he closed the gate behind the Jeep and Ben parked the vehicle in front of the screened porch.

  Ben grabbed the ice cream out of the cooler and climbed the steps to the front door. He suddenly felt awkward, and his heart rate rose. He was annoyed by his nervousness, and he paused a few seconds before knocking.

  THE DAY AT THE CLINIC had seemed interminable. The heat was stifling, and the dust seemed more pervasive than usual, despite the recent rain. Poverty, disease, ignorance and superstition had appeared insurmountable. And then there were the spiders....

  After the last patient had finally departed, Leslie was uncharacteristically abrupt when she dismissed Naomi, Elizabeth and Agnes. The trio had gathered on the front porch, talking quietly together. She rushed outside to apologize and gave each woman a hug.

  Finally alone, she lay down in her small room, wanting to rest for a few minutes before preparing something to eat. She removed her shoes and unbuttoned her shirt, hoping to cool off a little.

  She was tired—physically and mentally. But her real problem was emotional. At her core, there was still a void where her heart used to be. Most of the time she was able to ignore it—but not today. The tears that had threatened all day were stinging the back of her eyes once more.

  She stared at the stained ceiling and thought, Time. She needed time. She needed tomorrow to come. She closed her eyes and laid an arm over them, wishing she could sleep.

  She might have dozed, for what seemed only a short time later, she heard a knock on the clinic door. She ignored it, but a few seconds later it was repeated. Again she ignored it. There was a third knock.

  Her sense of duty surfaced enough to convince her that there must be some sort of problem or Titus would not have let the visitor inside the fence. Oh, God. She dragged herself to her feet. Please let it be something simple. No death, please...

  She made her way to the front door—before coming to a full stop. Ben Murphy stood on the other side of the screen with an expression that was an odd combination of impatience and nervousness. As usual, his hair was more or less neatly caught back in a ponytail, and he looked like he needed to shave. Distantly she noted that, contrasting with his sun-darkened face, his eyes seemed greener than she remembered and were fatigued. His clothing was slightly rumpled, and his customary white shirt loosely covered his broad chest and shoulders. Leslie was momentarily alarmed as the thought crossed her mind that he was extremely attractive. She blushed at her own musings.

  Not now—she couldn’t deal with him now. When she reached the door, she stood there a moment before speaking. Her response to seeing him combined irritation and fascination; she chose to react with irritation. Through the screen door she said, “What do you want, Ben? Do you need something? You don’t look sick.”

  Ben was alarmed by Leslie’s appearance and demeanor. She moved slowly and her pale countenance was virtually devoid of expression. Numerous wisps of shiny brown hair had escaped her ponytail, and her clothing was similarly in disarray. Her shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white tank top, and the shirttail was pulled out of her waistband. Her feet were bare.

  But he was exhausted, and her aggravation inflamed his. “Thanks, Les, it’s nice to see you, too,” he replied sarcastically.

  Feeling duly chastised, she gave him a rueful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been a long day. I’m tired and not really feeling well.” She stopped, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

  She looked as fragile as a piece of crystal that would shatter under the slightest pressure, and Ben’s concern intensified. He ignored her none-too-subtle prompt. “I just got back from Mombasa and brought some ice cream with me. I left a half gallon at Paul and Judy’s, but we thought you might like some, too.” He held out the container.

  Ben suddenly looked sweet and boyish, fearful that his gift might be rejected. Touched, Leslie smiled again, this time with more sincerity. She pushed open the door and invited him in.

  He studied her expression and, after a momentary pause, walked past her into the clinic. “Leslie, I didn’t mean to just barge in. I won’t stay but a minute—”

  “No, it’s all right. Actually, I haven’t eaten yet and ice cream sounds wonderful.” She slipped past him and led the way through the clinic to the living quarters. When they reached the kitchen, she gestured to one of the chairs at the wooden table. “Here...sit down, and I’ll dish up the ice cream. How about coffee or tea?”

  As he handed her the ice cream, their hands brushed. Heat speared through his gut at the contact. She quickly withdrew the carton, and he saw her blush.

  “Actually, tea would be nice. Oh, by the way, if you’re interested,” he added, “there is still some ice in the cooler. It came from a safe source.”

  That got a slight reaction from her. Clean ice was scarce, and the opportunity for iced drinks was severely limited. “Oh, yes, please. The heat has been awful, and iced tea would be wonderful.”

  She put the kettle on the small stove to heat the water while he retrieved the ice chest from the Jeep. He was grinning when he returned carrying the cooler. “Look what else I found,” he said as he handed her two large bars of chocolate. She looked puzzled, so he explained, “Melt the chocolate in a small pan over the boiling water. Presto! Chocolate sundaes!”

  He was finally rewarded with a real smile. “I don’t know if I can handle this,” she said with sincere enthusiasm as she took the candy bars. “Iced tea and chocolate sundaes on the same day!”

  Ben sat at the table and watched her prepare the treat. His fatigue melted like the chocolate. At her prompting, he told her a little about his excursions during the past three weeks, describing the people he had flow
n and sights he had seen, but omitting details of most of the encounters and transactions. Gradually, her bleak mood lightened.

  While they were eating the ice cream and melted chocolate, he entertained her with stories of his exploits during his years in Kenya. “...then, there was this time when I accompanied Simon and three of his brothers on a hunt for a rock python. The snake had eaten some of the family’s chickens and was suspected of polishing off a baby goat. So these four Masai showed me how to track the thing, and in no time we discovered the snake hole in the foothills near their homesite.”

  He took another bite of ice cream. “Our little hunting party waited outside the hole for three days before one of Simon’s brothers spotted the snake. He yelled, and we all went running toward him. I was in the lead with my rifle, but then I saw the snake slithering toward us. It was—and I’m not making this up—about twenty feet long, and it weighed more than I do. Plus, it was fast! My first thought was, ‘Well, hell, that is the biggest thing I’ve ever seen!’”

  He grinned, looking sheepish. “I took a couple of shots at it, but missed by a foot—which was hard to do because it was so big. Anyway, it kept coming in our direction, moving a lot faster than we could run.”

  Leslie leaned forward, wide-eyed and intent on the story. He paused to scrape the last of the chocolate onto his spoon and lick it.

  “Well, what happened?” she inquired impatiently when he didn’t immediately continue.

  “So there I was, jogging backward as fast as I could—I wasn’t about to turn my back on the thing. I kept praying that I wouldn’t fall on my butt. I shot again...missed again. All the while Simon and his brothers were laughing so hard they could’ve hurt themselves.” He stopped again, drawing out the story to enjoy the animation on Leslie’s face. Her blue eyes crinkled at the corners as she grinned at him.

  “Don’t tell me. It caught you and tried to strangle you, right?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Thad—Simon’s youngest brother, who by the way is a foot taller than me, and I’m over six-three—trotted up beside me and calmly threw his spear.” He sighed dramatically. “He caught the snake right behind its head—practically severing it. It was a great shot, particularly since he was laughing so hard.”

  “And then?” Leslie asked, realizing that she was having fun. This was a side of Ben she had only glimpsed before. He was self-deprecating and almost boyish, and he didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed to be the brunt of the joke.

  “Well, of course we had to cut it open to look for the gold.”

  “Gold?” She looked skeptical.

  “Yep. You see, a Kenyan legend says that gold stones can be found in the bellies of pythons.” Ben shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Unfortunately, there was no gold. But the guys ended up skinning the thing, and then taking the meat back for the family. It fed them for a week.”

  “Let me guess,” Leslie broke in as she tried to keep from choking on a sip of tea. “It tastes just like chicken?”

  “Nah. It tastes like snake.” He grinned, then glanced around the empty room as if to be certain no one would overhear. He leaned toward her and said in a stage whisper, “Actually, I didn’t eat any. Just the thought of it—ew! But don’t tell a soul, or I’ll have to hurt you.” He was rewarded with a laugh.

  When their laughter died down, the awkwardness returned. Ben glanced outside and saw that it was completely dark. “Well, I guess I had better be going,” he announced, and stood to leave. He could tell that she was feeling better. Whether it was the ice cream or the company he didn’t know, but her fragile demeanor had practically disappeared. He was relieved to see a faint light in her eyes and a bit of color in her cheeks.

  The last thing Leslie had wanted that evening was a visit from Ben Murphy. But suddenly, she didn’t want him to leave. She stood when he did and surprised them both when she placed a hand on his forearm and said quietly, “No, please. Don’t go.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BEN PAUSED AT her request. Watching her closely, he detected a hint of desperation. She laughed nervously and removed her hand. Picking up both glasses, she said, “How about another glass of tea? I think there’s still some ice left.”

  The fragility had returned. Ben recognized at least part of the problem. She did not want to be alone. The past hour had given her relief from whatever had been bothering her, and he knew that she was reluctant to lose contact with another person. He was spent both physically and emotionally, but he could not leave her when she so obviously needed someone. “Sure,” he responded. “That would be great.”

  He returned to his chair as she scooped the last of the ice from the chest and poured brewed tea into the glasses. Unfortunately, the easy camaraderie had vanished, and the silence that followed was uncomfortable. Ben carefully watched his glass, searching for something to say.

  Abruptly, Leslie asked, “Do you ever get homesick?”

  Her expression was reflective, and her gorgeous eyes appeared cloudy. Suddenly and uncharacteristically, he was afraid—overwhelmed by a profound fear. Dear God, he thought—where she’s concerned, my empathy is in overdrive. He looked down at his glass again and silently contemplated. There was a line to be crossed, and whether she understood it or not, they were both standing at that line. He did not want to move. Ben knew there would be pain. Perhaps for both of them. He feared the pain for himself but, more compellingly, much more compellingly, he did not want it for her. From the core of his being, he wanted to prevent her suffering any more.

  But as his eyes rose to frame her beautiful face, he realized that it didn’t matter. She was already in pain. And maybe, just maybe, her pain could be eased.

  Resigned, he crossed the line.

  “Yes.” The word was almost inaudible. “Yes,” he repeated with more intensity as he looked into her deep blue eyes and nodded. “Only every day.”

  She watched him closely and sensed his sincerity. It was evident in the sadness of his smile and the depth of his emptiness. “What do you miss most?” It was her turn to gaze at her tea.

  He looked out the window, staring into the darkness as if seeking inspiration. “What do I miss most?” he repeated quietly. He paused briefly then answered, “Seasons. I miss the spring. I miss autumn. I miss skiing.” He gave a short laugh and turned his eyes back to hers. “I miss driving my car on highways that aren’t littered with potholes, and not having to worry about driving at night. I miss going to the movies on a whim and watching Monday Night Football... And of course—” he grinned “—drinking water out of the tap without having to be concerned with what it’s going to do to my large intestine. That’s the first thing I’ll do when I get home again—get a big glass of water right out of the faucet!”

  Leslie chuckled. “No, a shower. I want to take a hot shower where I don’t have to hurry and don’t need to be concerned if I swallow a little water.” He nodded and smiled.

  They were silent for a spell, but this time the silence was easy. She appeared to consider his answers. “You didn’t mention your family. Is there anyone at home you miss?” She saw a flicker of response before his face became impassive again.

  He shrugged and answered matter-of-factly, “Just my folks. They live in a retirement community in Florida. They’re in pretty good shape for being in their seventies. Shoot, Dad can probably outjog me, and Mom swims every day. But at their age, you never know when something could happen.”

  “No friends? No girlfriends?” She immediately regretted the question when she saw a muscle quiver in his jaw. She blushed but reached out her hand to touch his. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m just being nosy. Never mind.”

  Unable to resist the opportunity, he turned his hand over to clasp hers and looked directly into her eyes. They were the dark blue of the sky nearing dusk, and once again he felt lost in them. His voice was quiet when he answered. “I was marr
ied once, but it didn’t last long. She was from Denver, and we met while I was in flight training. We knew each other only a few months before we got engaged, but that wasn’t the problem.” He shrugged and frowned a little. “We each needed something the other couldn’t give.”

  He looked down at his now-empty glass. When she did not comment, he continued, “Our first assignment was in Del Rio. You’re from Texas, so you probably know it’s a dusty little town near the Mexican border. She hated it. She wanted me home, and I had to be gone a lot. We fought pretty much nonstop. I was committed to the marriage, so I requested a change of assignment. I left flight training and took a position at the Pentagon, thinking she would be happier in Washington. But then, in addition to my primary assignment, the air force sent me to grad school, so I still wasn’t home much. We’d been in D.C. about a year when she left me for a partner in her law firm.” He looked down at the small hand clasped in his and gave a rueful laugh. “Even I knew he was a better match for her than I was.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Leslie questioned.

  “No, Leslie. Not directly, at any rate.” He looked at her evenly but didn’t add anything. She didn’t press.

  He squeezed her hand gently, then let go. Wanting to change the subject, he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “So, now it’s your turn. Other than long, hot showers, what do you miss?”

  Leslie smiled sheepishly. “I hate to admit it because it sounds so female, but I miss shopping. I would love to go to a mall.” He smiled at her confession. Encouraged because the mood had lightened again, she continued, “I miss air-conditioning.” She laughed out loud and said, “I really miss going to the supermarket and buying a chicken that’s already cut up—minus its feet and head—and neatly wrapped in plastic... I miss peanut butter and pizza—thick, cheesy pizza.” She giggled. “Gosh, it sounds like what I miss most is food.”

  He laughed as she wrinkled her nose at her own reflections. “But what about people? You haven’t mentioned anyone either. Who do you miss most?”