“They came here because they said she has injuries and might need medical care. But Ezat told them to leave, no such child has been here. Have you seen her?”
“No, no, I have seen only the usual village children.” Elsa held her breath, afraid that Laila would see through her words. “Have the men gone?”
Laila frowned. “I think so, but with men like that who can know?”
Elsa wanted to race home to sound the alarm, but that would only rouse suspicion. She forced herself to stay, to work as though it were a day like any other, but her hands trembled when she cleaned the rancid, ulcered skin of an old man, and she lost count when she tried to dispense pills for a young woman with a cough.
Her stomach was in knots, her eyes darting as she looked again and again for any sign of the strange men. But there was nothing. Still, she worried. Could they be watching? Did they suspect she harbored the child? When the clinic was finally closed, Elsa rushed to get her things and headed for home.
When she entered her gate, the house was quiet, and she went in search of the women.
She found them gathered in the courtyard sipping tea.
“There is trouble,” Elsa announced, her voice soft. “There were men at the clinic looking for a kidnapped girl.”
A chill settled in the air.
Amina put down her cup. “Who were they?” she asked. “Do you know?”
“No,” Elsa answered, “but Ezat thinks they have gone. He told them she wasn’t here.”
The women looked at one another and then at the napping Meena.
Elsa sighed heavily and wished she knew what to do. “Should I tell Hamid? Have him stay so there is a man here?”
“No, no,” Parween answered quickly. “We must tell no one. That is the safest way.”
Soraya bit her lip. “We will have to move more quickly,” she said. “Get her to Kabul sooner than we had planned.”
The women nodded in agreement.
“I will speak to Johann in the morning,” Elsa said.
That night, Meena tucked her hand into Elsa’s as they walked to the bathroom for her bath and bandage change. She barely winced when her wounds, which seemed to be scabbing over already, were cleaned.
Elsa took a closer look. Did she wish it or was there really a sparkle in Meena’s eye, a shine to her wispy hair, and a rosy hue to her cheeks when she laughed?
Ahh, Elsa thought, she is surely better.
But that thought was not enough to ease Elsa’s fears. She lay awake that night, her muscles taut, her senses alert for any sound that might signal danger.
But there was nothing, and Elsa felt herself drifting off to sleep. It was then that the sudden early morning call to prayer broke through the silence, sending a momentary shiver down her spine.
In the morning Elsa knocked at the UN office, and Johann invited her inside. Squinting, he pushed his eyeglasses back into place and spoke.
“Hello, hello, Elsa. What a pleasant surprise.”
“I have a favor to ask, Johann,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the quiver in her voice.
“Come, come, have a seat.” He guided her into his little office and pointed to a chair by his desk.
Taking a deep breath, she told Johann the story of a wounded, starving child who needed care in Kabul.
“I hope that it is not an imposition to ask if she could ride along on the next scheduled plane to Kabul. Of course, her cousin will accompany her, and the UN will have no responsibility for her once she is in Kabul.” Elsa picked nervously at her fingers as she waited for his answer.
In heavily accented English, Johann replied.
“But of course, my dear, we will help. As it happens, a flight leaves in two days. Can she make that one?”
Relief flooded through Elsa. “I’m sure she’ll be ready then.” She stood and reached out to take his hand. “Thank you so much, Johann, you are always so kind. Thank you.”
She raced home to share the news.
* * *
Meena wailed at the news that she would be moving yet again.
“I want to stay here,” she cried. “Don’t make me go.” She sobbed, dropping to the floor and hugging her legs. She buried her head in her knees.
“Meena, you must go,” Soraya pleaded. “Your cousin is waiting for you. She’s been waiting for a long time. You don’t want to make her sad, do you?” She touched Meena’s shoulder but the little girl jerked away.
“I don’t care if she’s sad. I don’t want to go!” Meena wept and refused to be consoled. Each of the women took a turn speaking to her but she remained firm.
Elsa smiled at Meena’s determination. It was just a week since she’d arrived, a shriveled, pitiful little thing, and now here she was, defiant and angry. She wished that Meena could stay; she’d brought so much life into the house. But she had to go. It was the only way she’d be safe, that they’d all be safe.
The women continued their attempts to convince her. No one wanted to force Meena. She’d had enough of that already, but with only two days before the plane was scheduled, Soraya was firm.
“Enough of this. You are going to Kabul, do you understand?” Meena dropped her head and nodded through her tears. Soraya’s tone turned soft. “Little one, you must go. I will be with you, understand?” Meena flung herself into Soraya’s arms and cried herself to sleep.
On the appointed day, Johann sent a message that the small plane had arrived and was waiting for them. The little group walked together to the airstrip to see Meena and Soraya off. Few people in Afghanistan had traveled by plane, but they’d seen planes flying overhead, and even Meena was excited to board the plane and soar through the sky, so much so that it silenced her protests.
She and Soraya shared kisses and tearful good-byes with Elsa, Parween, and Amina, and the women watched as the two climbed on board. Meena turned and gave them a last sweet smile and wave before she was swallowed up in the belly of the plane.
Tears stung Elsa’s eyes as she blew a kiss. The three stood and watched as the engine roared to life and the plane sped along the strip of dirt before it took to the air and disappeared over the mountains.
Elsa breathed a deep sigh of relief. “She’s safe. We did it!”
Parween turned to her. “Thanks to you, my friend.”
She kissed Elsa’s cheeks and smiled.
“I am thinking you are an Afghan woman, for sure.”
Elsa smiled. “But the lipstick,” she said, pointing to her red lips, “stays.”
21
Spring came suddenly to Bamiyan. The days seemed to grow longer, the sun brighter, and the air warmer almost overnight. Elsa folded up her blankets and packed away her sweaters, eager for the change of season.
Mike must have felt it too. One afternoon, he arrived unexpectedly at the clinic and suggested a picnic.
Butterflies filled her stomach at the very sight of him.
“A picnic,” she said, her words almost a sigh. “I’ve never been on a picnic.”
“Really? Then let’s do it,” he said. “Tomorrow’s Friday, and at the very least, it’ll keep you out of trouble,” he said with a wink.
“What can I bring?”
“Just yourself, Elsa, just yourself. I’ll pack some sandwiches and we’ll have us an old-fashioned picnic.”
A broad smile crept along her lips and her cheeks grew warm.
The following morning, Elsa rose early and went through the long process of taking a bath. Amina watched with an amused smile as she heated the water.
“Soldier?” she asked.
Elsa nodded. Everything happens in its own time, she thought. If she’d met Mike a year ago, she wouldn’t have been ready. She’d have been too timid, too unsure of herself. But here in Afghanistan all that had changed, and the threads of unease that had knotted her up for so long had finally started to unravel. She smiled as she applied a second coat of cherry-red gloss to her lips.
It was late morning when Mike arrived in his jeep, and h
e and Elsa set off for their outing. “Where are we headed?” she asked, arranging her head-scarf as she settled into her seat.
“A beautiful little spot not more than ten minutes away. Ramatullah, our interpreter, took me there. It’s got everything—fruit trees, wildflowers, and a stream that runs right through it all. Wait till you see it.” He turned and smiled. The enthusiasm in his voice made Elsa’s heart race all the more.
Mike guided the jeep beyond the village, past the last of the small houses, and onto a rugged road that ran alongside a rippling stream. They drove through groves of lush trees and fragrant flowers, and Elsa inhaled deeply.
Spring is here.
Mike eased the jeep into a small opening at the water’s edge. “We’re here,” he said, reaching back for a small duffel bag. “In place of a picnic basket,” he said as he grabbed a blanket.
They got out of the jeep and spread the blanket out by the stream.
“Pretty spot, huh?”
“Oh, Mike, it’s beautiful, a little slice of paradise.”
They settled themselves onto the blanket, and Mike handed Elsa a Diet Coke.
“I sure never thought I’d be on a picnic in Afghanistan,” he said, smiling, his hand resting on his sidearm. “But I won’t be removing this. Regulations and all. Besides, I’d rather be safe than sorry. And though I know you haven’t seen any real trouble, it is here.”
He paused and looked up at the brilliant and cloudless sky. “Right now, we’re just going to enjoy this beautiful spring day.”
Elsa squinted against the sun. “It’s so peaceful today. It’s hard to believe that so much misery has taken place here.”
“That’s for sure. Hard to imagine having to live like this—no electricity, no running water, no school or toys for the kids, and one group or another always at someone’s throat.” He shook his head sadly. “These people sure have had a lousy time.”
“I know,” Elsa said, her brow wrinkled. “From the outside, they seem to lead such terrible lives. But then you get here, and it’s suddenly not so terrible.”
“I came here as a soldier,” Mike said. “I expected to spend my days in fierce battle, and though we’ve had our share of firefights, some right here in Bamiyan, the people had been through hell and were happy to see us. Well, not everyone, but enough. Hell, an old man even stopped us to give us a map of land mine locations. There’s still bad guys lurking, make no mistake, but there’s definitely good here too.”
Elsa nodded. “I came here thinking I was going to rescue desperate people, but the truth of it is they rescued me. They took me in as though I belonged. I’ve seen some desperate tragedies.” She paused, remembering the bus explosion. “But mostly it’s the Afghan people who’ve taught me how to deal with them.
“And then there’s Parween,” she said, smiling broadly. “She’s become such a good friend, and I found her here.”
“She lost her husband to the Taliban, right?”
“She did, and her best friend too. She hates the Taliban with a passion that I hadn’t expected to see in a woman, at least not here.”
“The people of Bamiyan are no fans of the Taliban, and they’ve had a tough time. I suppose because of that, they’ve welcomed us. I think that as bad as suffering is, maybe it’s what gives people their strength. I mean, I think that when you suffer loss, it does something—good or bad.”
He rubbed his chin and looked into Elsa’s eyes. “Losing my mom had a big effect on me. It made me want to hold on tight to things and to people…” His words trailed off, his expression wistful.
Elsa nodded and picked at a stray thread on her dress. “I was so young when my father died, I don’t have any real memories of him. My mom was my family. She worked so hard for all of us, but my sister and brother were beyond help. I thought when I graduated from nursing school that my mom and I could really make a life, you know, and have an easier time of it.” She paused. “But that was before… before I found her. She’d died in her sleep, and that last morning, she looked more peaceful than I’d ever seen her.”
She felt her eyes well up, and she looked away, embarrassed.
Mike reached out and tilted her face to his. “I know it’s not like what happened to you, but after my mom died, I just felt so lost. It took me a long time to get over that sadness.” He took in a slow deep breath. “I know how you feel, Elsa. I know what it’s like to be alone. I hope you’ll remember that.”
Elsa felt her own sadness ease. “I will, Mike.”
Mike laced her fingers through his. “It seems as though we were destined to meet here. At least it sure seems like it to me.”
“But what if Aide du Monde had sent me somewhere else? I might never have met you. As it is, I was warned not to fraternize with the soldiers.”
He kissed her gently and traced the outline of her smile with his fingertip.
A jolt of happiness ran through Elsa, and she could hardly breathe. She wanted to freeze this moment, to make this day last forever.
Mike inhaled deeply. “How about lunch?” he asked. “I have peanut butter and jelly. I wish it were chicken salad but we’re late for a food drop.”
“Peanut butter and jelly is a wonderful change from rice and beans,” she said as Mike handed her a sandwich.
It wasn’t long before she wanted to take back her words. The peanut butter was thick and gooey and stuck to her teeth and her mouth, and before long, Elsa put her sandwich down.
“That’s it for me,” she said, taking a sip of Diet Coke.
“Yeah, me too,” Mike said as he reached out and drew Elsa close, encircling her in his arms.
He kissed her then, a deep, slow kiss that took her breath away. She felt it all the way down to her toes, and she wriggled free of her plastic sandals.
She smiled self-consciously. “ADM would definitely call this fraternizing, wouldn’t you say?”
Mike laughed and pulled her closer. “Yes, they would.”
She heard him sigh, and she nestled into his chest.
Is that his heart pounding or mine?
He rested his hand on her thigh and the sheer pleasure of his touch burned through her. She could hardly believe this was happening. This man who made her heart race and her hands tremble liked her, and she wanted to pinch herself to make sure it was real.
“When I met you, Elsa, you just about knocked me out. I can’t believe I came to fight a war and found you.”
“I felt the same thing. I was so nervous when I saw you, I thought I’d faint.” She smiled at the memory. “My palms were sweating, my heart was racing. God, I was a mess.”
Mike laughed. “You were beautiful. And it was my palms that were sweaty, and my heart that I thought would jump right out of my chest. Believe me, I got plenty of grief from the guys.”
He kissed her forehead. “But it was all worth it.”
It was then that a flash of movement in the trees caught his eye, and he stiffened. Reaching for his gun, he rose slowly.
“Shh, stay down,” he whispered to Elsa.
She watched as he fixed his gaze on the trees and drew the pistol. He scanned the trees and the landscape, but there was nothing to see. He seemed to hold his breath while he listened.
An almost overwhelming fear washed over Elsa as she watched Mike search the area. Everything he said was true, she thought.
There is danger here.
Suddenly, with a cacophony of bleats, a runaway goat careened from the trees and raced for safety somewhere beyond them.
Mike watched, surveying the scene warily. But there was nothing more—no movement, no sound, even the bees were quiet. After a few moments of tense observation, he pointed his gun upward and released a shot into the air. He listened again, and still there was nothing. He exhaled slowly, replacing his weapon in his holster.
“Jesus, Elsa, I’m sorry. We need to get back. This is too big a risk, out here without backup. There really are dangers everywhere. Hell, there could be Taliban out there,” he said m
otioning to the trees.
Elsa hugged herself and nodded, glad she wasn’t alone.
Mike sat back on his heels and folded her into his arms. “That damn goat reminded me to stay alert. I’m a soldier first. I probably shouldn’t even be on a picnic. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He smiled then. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I do know what I was thinking.”
He pulled her closer, and she knew she was safe. A small rush of joy chased away the last of her worry until a crackling sound filled the air. She looked questioningly at Mike.
“My radio,” he muttered, pulling it from his bag. “Base, this is Bravo Two. Over.” A voice, broken by interference, filled the silence, and Mike listened intently.
“Roger,” he said into the receiver. “On our way.”
He turned to Elsa and ran his fingers through her hair. “That was Dave telling us what we already knew—it’s time to head back.”
They quickly packed up their picnic and loaded the jeep for the trip back to Bamiyan.
Mike reached for Elsa’s hand. “Let’s do this again,” he said, smiling. “But next time, we’ll find a spot in Bamiyan.”
His eyes shimmered when he smiled, and Elsa was drawn into them.
She reached out and touched his face.
“Mike…” She whispered his name as she leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth. “Next time, no peanut butter.”
22
In the days following their picnic, Elsa raced through her time at the clinic, hoping for another visit from Mike. When he stopped by to tell her he’d be away in another village for a few days, her heart sank. He was a soldier first; there would always be real danger for him, not just runaway goats. She wasn’t sure she could reconcile herself to the idea that something could happen to him. Maybe it would be best, she thought, if she held back, if they were just friends for now.
“Will you be safe?” Elsa asked.
“I’ll sure as hell try to be, ’cause I’m hoping we can see each other again soon,” he said, turning to leave. “I’d like to pick up where we left off.” He winked, and her disappointment, along with her resolve to slow down, vanished.
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