Damn Wright: The Wrights

by Jordan, Skye

  He chuckled. “Don’t count your chickens. We still have to get back to the hotel.”

  “True.”

  Their taxi driver and guide for this last excursion, Abebe, slowed and veered off the road, parking near a small village. On the right side of the road, three rectangular adobe buildings made a U around a central courtyard. On the left side of the road, a more traditional village dotted the land.

  “This is Wolleka,” Abebe said, standing from the taxi. He gestured toward the compound. “This is a crafts school where widows learn skills they can use to support their families, like pottery, woven cloth and baskets, and blacksmithing.”

  “That’s amazing.” Dylan grinned at Emma, and she knew he was thinking of how they would do something similar with their planned project.

  He and Emma climbed from the vehicle and looked around. They were the only visitors to this village at the moment, listed as one of the top ten things to see in Gondar, and the last stop for Emma and Dylan before they headed back to the United States tomorrow.

  By the time they’d all met at the front of the taxi, children from the village on the other side of the road had gathered and now called to them. The road was lined with huts displaying handmade goods—cloth, baskets, trinkets. Emma smiled at their enthusiasm.

  “That,” Abebe gestured toward the children, “is the Falasha village.”

  One little girl drew her attention, the most petite child of the group, where the children appeared to range in age from about six to fourteen. While she was the smallest, she wasn’t the youngest. She was the quiet, stoic one in a group hocking their art.

  Emma had met and treated hundreds of children over the last year. Children living in horrible conditions, fighting fear every day. The majority of Ethiopia’s people lived in handmade huts of mud and sticks in the countryside with dirt floors. But whether their homes were in the country or the city, few had electricity. Even fewer had running water, often trekking miles every day to collect water for drinking, cleaning and bathing. But no matter how harsh their circumstances, the Ethiopian people were warm and welcoming, and the children adapted, finding joy in their lives despite the challenges.

  “Looks like you want to start on that side of the road.” Dylan’s comment drew her attention, and she found him watching the children with a soft smile.

  She took his hand. “I do.”

  “The Falashas who lived here,” Abebe said as they crossed the road, “either moved on to Sudan on foot or were airlifted out in the 1980s. Behind these huts lies the original synagogue and a graveyard for the Falashas who perished on the journey.”

  As soon as they reached the other side of the road, the children circled Emma and Dylan, welcoming them with big, bright smiles, jumping up and down with excitement of new visitors. And more children appeared, coming from other huts to join them on their walk along a narrow trail toward the historical sites. They all held some kind of craft, trying to get her and Dylan to buy it.

  There were so many children, it became impossible to move forward without stepping on them. Abebe, ahead of them on the trail, scolded the children in Amharic and shooed the children, but they ignored him, competing with each other for Emma’s and Dylan’s attention.

  One child pushed through the throng and took Emma’s hand. She looked down and found the sweet little face of the smallest girl. She held a basket of hand-painted wooden chicks in her other hand, and stared up at Emma with big brown eyes, her expression stoic.

  “Come,” the girl said. “See the church.”

  She pulled Emma forward while chastising the other kids into obedience in a way a full-grown man couldn’t. Emma glanced over her shoulder and found Dylan wearing a warm expression.

  The girl was intelligent and clever and sweet. She asked where they had come from, how long they would stay in Ethiopia, and how they liked her country. In broken English, she guided them through the adobe synagogue she called a church and around the cemetery with the adobe headstones, all while acting as their personal guide and bodyguard, keeping the other children at bay.

  Abebe stood back, arms crossed, grinning at the girl’s initiative, letting the girl act as their tour guide. “This is little Helina. She is very strong, despite her size.”

  Not once did Helina ask for money or try to sell them anything, including the chicks in her basket, and Emma found her focus on the history of her village admirable and her English startlingly good.

  By the time Helina led Emma and Dylan back toward the road, Emma had gone from charmed to enchanted. She couldn’t explain why, but nor did she need to. She’d learned a long time ago, some people who crossed your path in life stuck in your heart forever—like Dylan. Emma didn’t know why or how Helina stole a piece of her heart, only that she had.

  Helina paused to introduce them to her mother, a beautiful woman with smooth skin, long dark hair, and a shy smile. Her father, a gregarious young man with a gleaming grin and sparkling eyes. And her little brother, a shy boy who looked about five years old.

  Abebe stood in front of the hut, keeping the other children back.

  “This my daughter, Helina.” The father spoke good English and introduced his family.

  “Yes, it’s a beautiful name,” Emma said.

  “Thank you. It mean light. And she bring light to our family.”

  Emma grinned. “I think she brings light to the whole village.”

  Her father laughed, beaming with pride.

  “Em,” Dylan said, “let me get a picture of you with her.”

  Emma looked at the father. “Is that all right with you?”

  Dylan took birr from his pocket and offered it to the father. To their surprise, he refused. “No, no. You may take picture.”

  Emma crouched next to Helina so they were on the same level, and the girl crouched as well, reminding Emma how children mimicked adults when there was a language barrier.

  Dylan took the picture, and Emma faced Helina, running her fingers over her cheek.

  “Ameseginalew,” Emma said, thanking Helina.

  Her beautiful face broke into a grin that would have dropped Emma to her knees if she hadn’t already been there. “Minim ajdel.”

  Even though Emma had vowed not to buy much during the trip, she nearly bought out Helina’s mother’s shop and let Helina make all the choices. When they were done, Emma found herself reluctant to leave.

  Dylan shook the father’s hand, covertly passing the man what Emma knew would be a substantial sum of money in local currency. That was another thing she’d learned about him—he was ridiculously generous with people less fortunate.

  Even as they returned to the taxi and headed back to the hotel, Helina stood on the roadside, waving until they couldn’t see her anymore.

  Dylan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “You are amazing with kids.”

  She smiled up at him. “So are you.”

  “I’m thinking I’d like to get started on that family we always wanted when we get home.” He kissed her gently. “What do you think?”

  Emma laughed, joy bubbling out of her. She kissed him again. “I think I’ve got a head start on you.”

  He frowned for a second before her meaning hit home. Then his face brightened with shock. “You’re—”

  “Yeah.” The thrill of discovering she was pregnant fizzed through her blood again. “I was going to tell you on the plane.”

  “Oh my God.” He wrapped her in a bear hug, and when he pulled away, his expression mirrored all the joy inside Emma. “How do you know? When did you know?”

  “I’ve suspected for a few weeks. Yesterday, I used a pregnancy test at the hospital.”

  “A baby,” he said, breathless and awed. “Jesus Christ.”

  She laughed. “Right?” She exhaled. “Terrifying and thrilling at the same time.”

  “It must have happened when you left your pills in Bahir Dar.”

  “Along with the rest of my toiletries. Took me a week to repla
ce them.”

  “I can’t think of a better way to end the trip.” He kissed her again. “This last year with you has truly been the best year of my life.”

  “Mine too.” She covered his hand with hers. “And I’m looking forward to having the best year of our lives”—she kissed him—“for the rest of our lives.”

  The joy in his smile made his eyes sparkle. “Damn right.”

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you’ve enjoyed Emma and Dylan’s story.

  The epilogue is based on my own personal experience in Ethiopia.

  Before leaving my day job to pursue writing full time, I was a sonographer at UCSF Medical Center. Since leaving the profession, I have participated in humanitarian efforts in third world countries, teaching physicians how to perform ultrasounds. Unlike the United States, where ultrasounds are usually performed by sonographers, in many other countries, ultrasounds are perform by physicians.

  Sonography is an acquired skill, taking thousands of hours of practice to master. As the equipment becomes more affordable, third world countries gain access to the hardware, but lack the resources to instruct them on how to use it effectively and accurately.

  In November of 2018, I spent a month in Ethiopia teaching local physicians how to both understand ultrasound and how to utilize their equipment.

  While I toured a large part of the country prior to starting my work, most of my time was spent in Gondar at the University Hospital. During a free afternoon, I took a short drive to the tourist spot mentioned in the epilogue.

  The story told in the epilogue is a very close representation of how I met Helina, a very real Ethiopian girl who stole my heart almost immediately.

  After meeting hundreds of Ethiopian people and dozens of children, there was no obvious reason for this little girl to catch my attention. All the children in this country are utterly beautiful with warm spirits and friendly natures, and so completely happy in an unspoiled way you rarely see in the United States.

  But this girl truly acted like a beacon of light within her community and my heart attached to her like a moth to a flame.

  I only learned her name after I had already fallen in love. Those of you who have read my Phoenix Rising series written as Joan Swan will recognize the name I gave my heroine in the last book, SHATTER—Halina.

  When I learned Helina’s name, I knew our meeting was destined. Halina/Helina is Hebrew for light. And my little Helina was truly a spark among many.

  In my remaining time in Ethiopia, I made several visits to her village where I became more deeply acquainted with their culture and their community.

  Halina and I still communicate through her uncle who speaks very good English. Helina can speak some, but at only ten years old, she is still learning. Her father was killed in a car accident shortly after I left the country, a devastating blow for Helina’s family and their small village. This, unfortunately, is a terrible but common occurrence in their country.

  I speak with Helina and her uncle regularly, exchanging photos from our lives and information about our families and cultures.

  Here is my little Helina, holding one of the many packages I send to her and her family.

  Also by Skye Jordan

  THE WRIGHT WAY SERIES:

  SO WRIGHT

  DAMN WRIGHT

  UNTITLED (Coming soon)

  MANHUNTERS SERIES:

  GRAVE SECRETS

  NO REMORSE

  DEADLY TRUTHS (Coming soon)

  RENEGADES SERIES:

  RECKLESS

  REBEL

  RICOCHET

  RUMOR

  RELENTLESS

  RENDEZVOUS

  RIPTIDE

  RAPTURE

  QUICK & DIRTY COLLECTION:

  DIRTIEST LITTLE SECRET

  WILDWOOD SERIES:

  FORBIDDEN FLING

  WILD KISSES

  UNTITLED (Coming soon)

  ROUGH RIDERS HOCKEY SERIES:

  QUICK TRICK

  HOT PUCK

  DIRTY SCORE

  WILD ZONE

  COVERT AFFAIRS SERIES:

  INTIMATE ENEMIES

  FIRST TEMPTATION

  SINFUL DECEPTION

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  About the Author

  Skye Jordan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty-five novels. She was born and raised in California and has recently been transplanted to Northern Virginia.

  She left her challenging career of sonography at UCSF Medical Center to devote herself to writing full time, but still travels overseas on medical missions to teach sonography to physicians. Most recently, she traveled to Ethiopia and Haiti.

  Skye and her husband are coming up on their thirty year wedding anniversary and have two beautiful daughters. A lover of learning, Skye enjoys classes of all kinds, from knitting to forensic sculpting. She is an avid rower and spends many wonderful hours on the Potomac with her amazing rowing club.

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  You can find Skye online here:

  Skye’s Starlets | Website | Email