“Watch it.” Nathan, who had been following close behind, reached past her. He brushed aside a tangle of naked vines dangling from the canopy above, vines that she had noticed just fine on her own. Nor did it help her mood that Nathan was happily humming behind her, seemingly unfazed by the strenuous hike.
Irritated with Nathan for being Nathan, with herself for being in pain, with her father for forcing her on this trip—with the whole world in general—she quickened her steps, her attention fastened on the trail. Roots and more vines snaked with regularity across the path, ready to trip the unwary. With the deepening shade of twilight, she was finding it harder and harder to pick her way with confidence. Somewhere beyond the tall, fragrant cedars and thick bamboo stands, the sun was disappearing behind the high peaks to the west, taking with it what little warmth remained in the air.
Several rapid curse words followed by a thud came from the trail above her. All irritation forgotten, she broke into a painful run, Nathan right behind her. Lieutenant Younan sat sprawled by the side of the trail, massaging his knees, a half-buried vine not far from where he fell. His jaw was clenched in either anger or pain. Genie guessed both. She winced as she noticed the deep impressions in the rich soil where he had landed.
A whisper of movement came from under the fern behind him. Her pulse leaped with fear.
Darting forward, she shrugged off her pack and tossed it onto the fern. Before she could catch herself, her momentum slammed her into the lieutenant, who was getting to his feet. The ground and sky traded places in a dizzying rush as they collided and rolled. What little breath she had left was knocked out of her as she landed on her back, the lieutenant on top of her. The leafy canopy high above her spun sickeningly for a moment as she tried to reinflate her lungs. Adrenaline prickled all over her body, like tiny needles, hot and cold at the same time.
The lieutenant sprang up and off her, finally allowing her a chance to breathe.
“What the . . . ,” he began and then stopped abruptly.
Nathan stood over her, a knife in his hands. But his gaze was on the ground, a detail Genie’s brain registered a split second before the lieutenant’s not insubstantial weight slammed on top of her a second time. Pinned to the ground, she could only listen as Nathan’s blade sank into the dirt with a soft thud, mere inches from where her pack had fallen.
After a brief moment of silence, Nathan straightened and gave a shaky exhale. “Well, that was close.”
Genie licked her dry lips. Her pulse raced, but not just from adrenaline. A new, different kind of awareness slid through her veins as her body registered the oddly appealing sensation of a man lying on top of her. She had trouble breathing under his weight, but it didn’t alarm her. It was . . . exciting, and she found herself wanting to arch up and press herself more firmly against him. Against all that strength and warmth.
As if suddenly electrified, the lieutenant leaped up and off her, and Genie’s mind cleared in a snap. What in heaven’s name? Horrified by the lustful direction of her thoughts, she quickly sat up to find Nathan staring at her. Not able to hold his gaze, she glanced over at Wu Fang, whose attention—to her relief—appeared wholly on the snake. At least one person had missed her immodest reaction.
The lieutenant ran his fingers through his hair, looking everywhere but at her, his suntanned skin flushed. “Sorry for flattening you. I thought Sterling had lost his mind for a moment. I didn’t see the snake.” He took a deep breath and glanced at Nathan. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Nathan toed the dead krait free of the fern with his boot, revealing the snake’s characteristic bands of bright yellow and black. “Though likely you weren’t in any real peril. It’s still early in the season, so it was probably sound asleep before you roused it, and likely still sluggish. But better safe than sorry. Their bite can be fatal.”
“All the more reason to thank you.”
Nathan retrieved his knife. “Thank Eugenia, since she saw it first. Though catching her after she threw herself at you like that was probably thanks enough.”
The lieutenant glanced at her uneasily, and Genie flushed. Despite Nathan’s calm, matter-of-fact tone, there was no missing the censure in his words. Already on edge, she felt even more tense.
Wu Fang picked up the dead snake and examined it with a critical eye. “Too bad we don’t have any wine,” he said in Chinese. “Krait makes a powerful tonic, one I could sell for good money.”
“If you can find anyone foolish enough to buy it.” Nathan wiped the knife blade clean on his trouser leg.
Wu Fang scoffed and then said in Chinese, “You’re the fool. One drink can make old men young again. And give dried-up young ones more fire. Maybe you need a whole bottle?”
Nathan shot the old man a hard look. “Watch it.”
Genie bit her lip, carefully hiding her amusement as Nathan brushed past her to pick up the fallen backpack. As little as she liked the man, she knew she needed to tread carefully. Not that she worried about him hurting her, but he could make the rest of the journey unpleasant all the same.
“What did the old fellow say?” Lieutenant Younan asked her in a low voice.
Genie cleared her throat and sought the best—least embarrassing—way to translate the exchange. “Wu Fang wanted to pickle the snake, but we don’t have any wine with us.”
He made a face. “You’re kidding. He’d waste good alcohol on that?”
“The Chinese would hardly think it a waste,” she said with a laugh. “Snake wine is considered an extremely useful tonic.”
“For what? Killing off your enemies?”
“No.” Then, realizing she would have to give more of an explanation, she flushed and her gaze slid away. “It’s for . . . um . . . for improving a man’s performance. With women.”
“I see.” His soft laughter stole through her like sunlight, chasing away her embarrassment. “Let me guess—Wu Fang suggested Sterling might benefit from it.”
“Wu Fang has a strange sense of humor,” Nathan said coolly as he rejoined them with Genie’s pack.
Wu Fang laughed, and Genie wondered again how much English the old man actually understood. Then, with a sigh, he flung the snake into the underbrush and said in Chinese, “No more chatter. Let’s go.”
Nathan held her pack while she shrugged it on. By the time Genie had the buckles fastened, Wu Fang had already started up the trail. Though “trail” might be stretching it a bit, as she had seen deer paths more obvious than whatever it was Wu Fang was following. Or perhaps he was only being economical, taking the shortest line between two points, no matter how steep or treacherous.
By the time Genie had her pack resettled onto a less tender part of her shoulder, the lieutenant had already disappeared into the dense vegetation, along with Wu Fang.
“A word, if you please, Eugenia.” Nathan grabbed her arm when she would have turned away. He continued softly. “You should be more careful in your dealings with the lieutenant.”
“I could hardly let the man be bitten by a krait.”
“You could have trusted me to handle it.” Nathan plucked an errant leaf from her hair and then brushed a fallen strand out of her eyes. “You must know I would never let anything happen to my future wife.”
She batted his hand away, alarm icing her stomach. “I thought we agreed we were incompatible?”
“You suggested it; I never agreed. And don’t argue. For the rest of the trip, you will act like my fiancée, whether in truth or not. Your father and I both decided it would be safer.”
“He didn’t tell me as much.”
“There was no time. But we can discuss it later.” He glanced over his shoulder. “When we’re not in danger of getting lost. Though from all the noise the lieutenant’s making, there seems little danger of that. I’ve heard angry boars thrash about more quietly.”
“Only because he’s injured,” she snapped back before she could stop herself.
Nathan stiffened, his grip tightening. “Stay a
way from him, Eugenia. I won’t tell you again.”
Clamping her lips shut, she whirled away, a hundred imprudent comments burning to be let out. But Nathan was right: it was getting dark, and she really didn’t want to spend the night lost in the forest because she had wasted time pointlessly arguing with him. Following her ears and the shadowy trail of broken branches, she was able to track Wu Fang and the lieutenant. She and Nathan caught up just as the trail opened out onto a wide rock ledge that jutted out from the hill. The view was beautiful, at least what she could see of it in the deep twilight. The ledge looked out over a cleft in the hills cut by the river that rushed not too far below. Farther out, she caught glimpses of other peaks half-hidden by the dense forest.
Fairly sure this was where they were going to spend the night, Genie shrugged her pack off her aching shoulders.
“How does the old fellow do it?” the lieutenant muttered as he looked around.
She understood his surprise. She hadn’t seen any signs in the forest indicating that this clearing was here. Yet here it was, big enough to fit all their bedrolls as well as set up a fire without fear of it spreading.
She started unbuckling her pack. “Perhaps it’s because he was a soldier for many years?”
The lieutenant made a noncommittal sound as he walked over to the edge of the rock shelf, where Wu Fang sat expectantly, with the confidence of a king ready to be served.
Nathan dropped his pack onto the ground next to hers, kicking up a small cloud of dirt in the process. “Here, hand me a pot, and I’ll go find water for supper before it gets any darker.”
She flipped open the top of her pack. “Give me a moment . . .”
“Do you want me to start a fire?” the lieutenant asked, coming back to stand right behind her. His soft drawl sent shivers up and down her spine. “The air’s already got a definite nip to it.”
Keeping her eyes safely on the pan as she pulled it from the pack, Genie tried to slow her suddenly racing heartbeat. He was standing so close, she could almost feel the heat rolling off his body, reminding her how warm he had felt lying on top of her in the forest . . . how wonderfully heavy.
“Oh, I’m sure Eugenia can handle it,” Nathan said, taking the pot from her. “You should rest your knees.”
Knees, yes. The lieutenant was injured. Best to focus on that and not how her body had tingled with . . .
She jumped to her feet before her thoughts could go any further and grabbed the pot back from Nathan. “I’ll be right back.”
Nathan might have protested, but she wasn’t sure. She was over the edge of the hill and halfway down the slope before she allowed herself to breathe again.
After setting the pot on the small stones littering the edge of the stream, she plunged her hands into the icy stream, welcoming the painful bite. Water streamed through her fingers as she lifted her palms to her overly warm cheeks. A small, despairing sob escaped her.
What is wrong with me?
She had never reacted to a man this way. Her father would be horrified if he knew how utterly the lieutenant’s presence was affecting her. And the lieutenant would be as well. No one must find out. This weakness was hers and hers alone. Maybe, with help from the Lord, she could make it through the next few days with no one the wiser. Oh, please, Lord. Help me.
Hastily blotting her face on her sleeve, she pulled herself together and then filled the pot with water. When she returned to the ledge, Nathan was gone. The lieutenant was arranging some kindling to start a fire, while Wu Fang was gazing off into the distance, a lit cigarette dangling from his one hand.
“Where’s Nathan?” she asked, carefully setting down the full pot. She had purposely filled it with more water than she needed for dinner so she’d have enough to soak a couple of cloths for the lieutenant’s knees.
“Looking for more wood.” The lieutenant tilted his head toward Wu Fang. “What’s the story with the old fellow? Is he going to help out?”
“Not if he doesn’t want to.” Genie knelt by Wu Fang’s pack and looked for the rags they had used earlier.
“Because he only has one arm? Can’t say it slowed him down much on the trail.”
She glanced up, startled. “No, it isn’t that. It’s because he’s an elder and therefore has earned the right to relax, as a sign of respect and an acknowledgment of his longevity and wisdom. Is that not the custom in America?”
“Not really.” He watched her as she dipped the cloths in the pot and wrung them out. She willed herself not to blush under his steady gaze.
“Here, roll up your pants. Your knees have to be killing you. Especially after your fall.”
He hesitated, a protest on his lips, but something in her look must have changed his mind. With a sigh, he sat back and did as she asked. New welts of red and purple blossomed under his skin. Swallowing hard, she laid the first cold cloth on his knee. He jerked and then held still.
“You know,” he said as she placed the second cloth, “unlike Wu Fang, I don’t expect to be waited on. If you want any help cooking dinner, just ask.”
“Thank you, but despite what Nathan said at lunch, I’m not that bad a cook.” She returned to her pack and began removing the rest of her cooking supplies. She was glad to see that throwing the pack at the snake hadn’t damaged anything.
“I never said you were. However, four hands could make the work go faster. And . . .” He hesitated briefly. “I wanted to apologize. I know I had made it kinda clear I didn’t want you tagging along. I thought that you, being a woman and all, would slow us down, but it hasn’t turned out that way. And if you hadn’t been there this evening, I might’ve been a goner.” He drew a deep breath. “So as a peace offering, I’d like to help with dinner.”
“And what were you thinking of doing?” She selected two sweet potatoes and then unsheathed a cooking knife to pare them. She kept her gaze on her work, afraid if she looked up that he would see how greatly his words had shocked her. She could probably count on one hand how many times a man had apologized to her. Ever. Even including her father.
“I could peel, chop, slice. Anything you want. Since my father worked late most nights when I was growing up, it was either learn my way around a kitchen or starve.”
Her hands stilled. “Your mother . . . ?” She didn’t know quite how to finish the question.
“Passed away when I was seven, along with my sister.” His tone was neutral, but she sensed the undertow of emotion lurking beneath the words.
Her heart squeezed in sympathy as she stared sightlessly at the potato in her hand. “I’m sorry. I never had a sister or a brother. But my mother died, too. When I was an infant.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
She shrugged and put the potato down. “I don’t remember her. I was too young.”
“I sometimes wished my father had remarried like yours did,” the lieutenant said. “Other times I was glad it was just him and me.”
“What makes you think my father remarried?” She pulled out a small carved board given to her by Zhenzhu, ostensibly as a gift for Aunt Hazel, but Genie doubted she would mind if it was slightly used by the time it reached her.
“Well, the woman who greeted us? Isn’t she your stepmother?”
“That was our housekeeper, Zhenzhu. My father hired her to take care of me after my mother died so he could resume his travels.”
“So fifteen years ago. That’s a long time for a man and woman to live under the same roof.”
“Actually more like twenty. I’m not that young.” She pushed the chopped potatoes aside and then frowned. “And what exactly are you implying?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” He gestured at the onions on the ground next to her. “Are you going to cut those?”
“There is nothing improper going on, if that’s your point.” Her fingers tightened on the knife as old hateful memories stirred in the back of her mind. The whispers and innuendos . . . “Zhenzhu was starving when my father took her in all those years ago. Her
husband had died from cholera, and since there were no children, his family kicked her out, and her own family wouldn’t take her back. Should he have turned her away, too?”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to explain.”
“And yes, maybe she has grown fond of us over the years, as we have of her. But that doesn’t mean she, or my father . . . that they . . .” To her dismay, her voice broke. She pressed the back of her hand against her lips. The chopping board became a blur as she remembered how the missionary wives would whisper whenever she and Zhenzhu passed by, their suspicions and disapproval clear in their pinched expressions.
“Hey.” He crouched beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the musk of his clothes and the sharper scent of sweat. Every inch of her skin tightened. “I meant no disrespect. Your father is a man of the cloth. Of course he is kind to those in need.”
The gentleness in the lieutenant’s tone only added to her emotional turmoil. Loss, despair, and anger all buffeted her broken heart in turn, and underneath it all were the new torments of desire and the shame that realization brought with it.
“Here, I’d better chop the onions. But don’t go anywhere. You’ll need a plausible excuse for those tears when Sterling gets back. Otherwise, he’ll probably punch me, thinking I made you cry. And then we’d both be crying.”
She gave a short watery laugh, then sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She really should move away from him, away from the almost magnetic pull exerted by his body. Except he had asked to stay close, even if it was for a very different reason, and she, for purely selfish reasons, wanted to obey.
He peeled the skin off the onions and then began slicing them. His movements were expert and sure, as if he’d done the task a hundred times. “I’m guessing from your reaction that it’s taboo for a white man to fall in love with a local woman?”
“Not exactly, but one would run the risk of being a social pariah. And in my father’s case, such an alliance would cost him his sponsorship, which is why we left Hankow, though my father has always said it was because of Communist unrest. Rumors were starting to spread among the other missionaries. Unfounded ones, mind you. Still, by moving us south, we not only escaped the gossip but the need to dismiss Zhenzhu merely because the wives didn’t like her.”
A Girl Divided Page 6