by Vivien Vale
I take the baby from him and check his vitals. He’s healthy and well, wailing loudly. I gently place him in Shani’s arms.
“Thank you, doctor,” the two women say kindly.
“Thank the male nurse,” I say and point to Ford.
He’s still riding the high of the experience and beams at me proudly. He leans forward to give me a big bear hug.
“Careful, big guy,” I say, “You’re squeezing my tears out.”
I’m happy and relieved that my friend and her baby boy are both well, and that the birth is over.
Not for the first time, I thank my brother silently. If it hadn’t been for him…
My eyes find Ford’s, and for that moment, I think we understand each other without words.
I sigh. Why can’t it always be like this between us?
18
Ford
If this were back home, there’d be fucking champagne all around and cigars for the men. This would be followed by the announcements on Facebook, Twitter, and all the other social media channel people follow or belong to these days.
Not here.
I’m not quite sure how the news is going to spread here in this part of the world, but it’s not through social media. I anticipate hearing the beating of the drums to announce the news. But there aren’t any.
What a strange world we live in.
Priorities in this part of the world are different. I guess when all around you are issues relating to life and death, you tend to focus on things that are important.
I have noticed some traditional toys and few baby clothes delivered to the hut. There won’t be bubbles, wine, or other Western extravaganzas.
“Well,” Adelaide turns to me. “Mother and baby are doing well, so I think we better get back to the village.”
With a lump in my throat, I nod. For some reason, I don’t feel like leaving just yet. It doesn’t feel right to abandon this new life and his mother.
I mean, how do we know they’ll be okay? What if something was to go wrong the minute we left the village? How would anyone be able to contact us?
“I guess. If you’re sure.”
Adelaide takes a step toward me. “What’s the matter, big, tough guy? The sight of blood left you weak?”
Her nose wrinkles a tiny bit as she looks at me. I resist the urge to grab her and kiss that cute little button nose.
“Hardly. I’m just worried about them.” I thrust my chin in the direction of mother and son.
“Shani is fine. As is her gorgeous little son. And look who’s coming.”
I follow the direction her finger is pointing and notice the husband come through the door.
“Just in time to say hello to your son before he has another nap,” Adelaide greets him and leads him to his wife and son.
It’s with mixed emotions that I watch the happy family.
I’ve never felt this way before. Was I feeling happy, elated, and…a little jealous? Jealous of something I don’t have?
Fuck. This delivering baby shit has been messing with my mind.
With a shake of my head and a last look at the little bundle now in the arms of his father, I head out the door.
Outside, I wait for Adelaide.
“And don’t forget to let me know if anything goes wrong. Otherwise, I’ll see you next week,” I hear her say as she’s leaving the tiny mud hut.
“Ready?” I grumble and sit on the motorbike. I rev the engine to make a point. If we’ve got to go, let’s just fucking go.
She raises her eyebrows. “Why the sudden hurry?”
My reply is a grunt.
Adelaide smacks me playfully on the shoulder. “I can’t believe it. Looks like my big, tough security guy’s gone all soft on me.”
I roll my eyes. “Are we leaving, or are we leaving?”
“Hold your horses. I forgot my bag.”
What? How could she forget her fucking bag? Or was she just going back to sneak another look at the baby?
When she comes out again, I do see her carry her bag.
I watch her put it on the back of the bike before she turns to me again.
“You’re okay to ride? We’ve had a long night.” It may have been a late night, but I’m pumped. “I could keep going for days,” I say and mean it.
“You’re on a high then?”
I nod.
“You must love that part of your job.” It’s more a statement than a question.
“When that little baby boy made his appearance out of his mother’s body, it was pure fucking magic. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
Adelaide looks at me. “Yep, helping bring a new life into the world is amazing. Luckily, both mother and son are doing well. It can be difficult if they aren’t doing so well, especially out here, where lack of food and proper treatment facilities can lead to lives being lost.”
For a little while, neither of us speaks.
“Well,” she breaks the silence first. “We better get back to whatever drama awaits back at the village.”
Without another word, I watch her climb behind me. Her arms wrap around my waist, again. I take a deep breath in and out.
Fucking amazing.
This whole trip has been awesome.
I steer the bike along the same track we used to come here. Only difference is now it’s broad daylight. But I pay little to no attention to the scenery.
Another day, another time, I’m sure I’d see it in a different light.
In my mind, all I can see is Adelaide. The images change from Adelaide bending over Shanti to her holding the baby and giving him to his mother.
Radiant, inspiring Adelaide. The more I think about it, the more I realize how amazing she is.
“I think there’s something wrong!” She’s yelling into my ear.
It takes me a few seconds to notice the bike’s spluttering. Just as I start to connect the dots, it stops altogether.
Fuck. I stare at the controls and realize the little arrow of the fuel gauge is pointing to empty.
“Do you know what’s wrong with it?” She leans into me, and I take my time with my answer.
Her body pressed against mine feels fucking awesome.
“No fuel.” I mumble eventually and feel her lean back.
Tempted as I am to pull her back onto me, I resist and get off.
“How can we be out of fuel?”
“Well, it’s like this. We’ve driven a long way, we didn’t refuel, and now we’ve run out.”
“I know how. What I mean—” she stops and runs her hand through her hair.
I, on the other hand, grab my bag from the back of the bike and survey our area.
There’s a nice, big tree set back from the road a little. It’s got a huge base. If we set up camp here, we’ll have some shelter.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to set up camp,” I explain and get to work.
“You’re setting up camp? But I—we—” she stutters without finishing her sentence.
“What do you propose?”
She frowns and puts her hands on her hips. “I need to get back to the village. I’ve got patients and hospital rounds. I can’t stay here.”
To my horror, she starts to walk away.
“Hey, wait.” I go after her. “You can’t leave.”
Her chin sticks out at she stares at me. “Why not?”
“Look. It’s late afternoon. You won’t make it on foot on your own back to the village. It’s too dangerous. If we stay here, we’ll be safe, and we can get fuel in the morning and have you back before lunch.”
I watch her digest my words. She seems to be thinking about what I’ve said.
“You know better than me the type of dangers that lurk around the bushes in this area. If you set out on your own—”
“I know, I know. I’ll be a prime kidnapping candidate,” she interrupts and turns back to the motorbike.
I shake my head. “No, I was going to say you may end up bei
ng dinner for something or someone.”
Saying it out loud sends a shiver down my spine.
“Fine,” she mutters and trots back to the motorbike. “As long as you don’t mention Murphy’s law.”
“Here, help me with his,” I hand her the corner of a plastic tarp I brought with me. I choose to ignore the rest of her comment.
“What?” She looks a little flustered. “You have a tarp in your bag? What else are you hiding? Is this like the Mary Poppins bag?”
I laugh. “I always come prepared wherever I go. You never know when you might get stuck and need to camp out.”
It’s absolutely fucking true. I’m not lying. I’m always prepared for the worst.
When I grabbed my bag to tag along last night, I was prepared for the worst. Running out of fuel may not be the worst thing to happen, but being stranded in the middle of nowhere with no fuel is pretty darn close to being bad.
I mean, ideally, we get back home with enough fuel. And having an accident would be one of the worst things that could happen. So being stuck here with no fuel is somewhere in the middle.
“If we use this massive tree stump as the back of our shelter and the tarp above us, we’ll have a fairly decent camp for the night.”
Adelaide shakes her head. “I can’t believe you brought all this stuff in your bag. Did you bring food as well?”
I nod.
“Wow. You really have thought of everything.”
“No, not everything,” I turn toward her. “I didn’t bring music, candles, or champagne.”
She looks at me blankly. “Did I miss something?”
“After the time we’ve had, I feel we should be celebrating. It might be normal for you, but I don’t help bring a baby into this world every day, you know.”
She begins to understand, smiling.
“There are other ways we can celebrate.”
Our eyes lock and for a brief second, I’ve forgotten what I was going to do as I drown in her blue eyes, digesting the meaning of her words.
19
Adelaide
I grab my bag off the back of the bike and curse my own lack of preparedness. I mean, I’m the doctor, the local in this area, and yet I’ve got nothing useful in my bag.
And by useful, I mean things like toothbrush, a change of clothing, food, or even a torch. I don’t even have anything sweet and sugary with me.
“I’m going to look for some firewood.”
Without looking at him, I put my bag down and follow. “I’ll come with you.”
If he asks, I’m going to deny it, but yes, I feel a little insecure. The light is fading, and in the distance, I think I can hear the sound of a lion roaring.
In my defense, I’ve not stayed a night outside the confines of the village.
Being out here in the wilderness in the middle of nowhere has a certain element of danger associated with it.
“Watch what you pick up, though,” he warns. “Don’t pick up a snake or one of those gigantic spiders.”
I’m not sure if he’s kidding, or if he’s serious. Maybe he’s a little of both.
When we were younger, he used to get a kick out of teasing the girls that he thought were below him mercilessly.
“So, tell me.” I catch up with him. “Is this the first baby you delivered?”
Ford stops and spins on his heel to look at me. Slowly, he nods. “Obviously not for you.”
Since it’s an observation and not really a question, I don’t answer it.
“You enjoyed it?” I know he did, but I wanted to hear it from his lips.
With men being such fickle creatures, I want him to admit his own feelings and get in touch with his feminine side.
“I guess you could say that…” he starts and doesn’t finish his own sentence. A cricket nearby is still chirping away. The way he’s grinning, one would think that he delivered his own child. “You still get a buzz out of it?”
His turn to ask the question, I guess.
Absentmindedly, I pick up a stick.
“I wouldn’t if I were you, Doc, unless you want to collect a whole lot of bad karma,” he says, eyeing what I have in my hand.
It takes me a while to understand what he’s saying. My eyes wander to the stick, and instantly I drop it, shrieking a little as I do so.
“Now, no need to get all upset. He’s more frightened of you than you are of him. And you can do a lot more harm.”
Before I can protest about being frightened, he keeps talking. “I thought you took some oath not to do any harm.”
Feeling overwhelmed, I punch him lightly in the arm.
“Ouch. There you go again.”
“It’s therapy,” I mumble and decided against collecting firewood. Let Ford be the hunter-gatherer on this expedition.
By the time we get back to our makeshift camp, Ford has a decent number of sticks under his arm. It takes him about two seconds to get the fire going.
With a sigh, I take a seat under the tarp, in front of the fire. Slowly, the sun is saying its last farewell for the day. I watch it dip below the horizon, ready to start a day somewhere else in the world.
“It’s an odd feeling, knowing we’re about to welcome the night, and somewhere else, the day is starting.”
“Pardon?” Ford looks at me. He’s holding some of those of packets of MRE up. “What does madam care to have for dinner?”
He’s draped something over his arm to give him the appearance of a waiter. I have to chuckle. “What can you offer me?”
“Chili with beans, ratatouille, or vegetarian lasagna.”
“Chili with beans? You’ve got to be joking. Near naked flames?”
He shrugs.
None of those sound nice. I mean, if they were cooked, they would sound delicious.
But his are freeze-dried and packed into the thinnest of containers. How could anything like that taste any good?
“Might make for an interesting night.” He jokes.
I smirk. “Only if you’re into explosions.”
“So, what will it be?” He’s holding the packets up in the air for me.
I’m not sure if this is to entice me.
“And don’t forget, each one of these little packets is like a three-course meal.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? I don’t know how you can live off that stuff.” I had wanted to say shit but restrain myself at the last minute.
“Have you ever tried one?” He’s coming toward me.
“No. And I don’t need to to know they’re going to be awful.”
“Never judge a book by its cover. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”
I sigh. “I’ll take ratatouille, please.”
“Excellent choice m’lady.” He opens the packet, and I watch him pour it into a metal container.
“Do I have to eat it cold?” The thought of eating cold, pre-heated, freeze-dried vegetables sends a shiver down my spine.
Ford shakes his head. “Please, m’lady, this is a civilized country. We will heat your dish for you. While you wait, why don’t you enjoy the complimentary cracker and cheese spread?”
I have to laugh at his pretend French accent. “Don’t tell me you’re hiding the wine somewhere in that Mary Poppins bag of yours.”
His eyebrow rises just a little. “I’m sorry to say, but we are fresh out of wine tonight.”
Giggling, I bite into my cracker.
“Look at this.” Ford holds out his hand. “I mean, what do you think the rest of society is doing tonight? We’ve got a gourmet meal, a brilliant fire, a fantastic night sky, and great company. Does life get any better than this?”
His words hit their mark. I am lucky, and I should count my lucky stars. For the first time since his arrival, I’m grateful Ford is here.
If I were on my own right now…
I don’t finish the thought.
“Here you go,” he holds out the bowl with my dinner in it. “Dinner is served.”
His eyes are watchin
g my every move. I exaggerate the way my spoon picks up the food and travels to my mouth. I let it hover in front of my nose to take a whiff.
“Smells okay,” I mumble and then open my mouth to taste it.
“Okay?” Ford pretends to be shocked. “Smells okay? News flash, it smells fucking delicious.”
At his words, I nearly spit the mouthful of food back out. He really has a way with words.
“Not bad, Ford, not bad,” I say and take another mouthful.
Once I’ve finished my meal, Ford outdoes himself again. He produces a small pot and boils some water to make some tea.
When he hands me a stainless steel mug with the hot liquid, our fingers touch, sparks fly, and our eyes meet.
I watch the flicker of the flame reflect in his eyes, and I’m mesmerized by the way the fire seems to lap at something invisible high up in the sky. Taller and taller, the flames grow until there’s nothing to reach for.
Without thinking, I put the tea down next to me.
His hand cups my cheek.
The way he’s looking at me, he’s staring right into my soul. There’s so much intensity there, I fear I might explode before I get a chance to taste his lips. I can see him move his mouth in my direction.
In anticipation, I lean toward him. Only a few inches separate us. Maybe if I pucker up, I might get there.
My insides are burning with desire. It’s tempting to grab him and pull him toward me, but then again, I don’t want to interrupt the flow. I mean, I’ve waited this long; what’s a few more seconds?
Those seconds seem like a lifetime, though.
Of course life’s like that, isn’t it? When we want something badly enough, it seems to take forever to arrive. On the other hand, when we don’t want something to happen, it approaches at breakneck speed.
I half-close my eyes. When our lips finally meet, I want to experience it with my eyes closed. I want all of my senses—barring my eyes—to take it all in.
As he’s getting closer, his scent is getting stronger. Unlike some of the doctors I’ve worked with or the male nurses, Ford uses no expensive body soap, lotion, or other gimmick to make himself manlier.
Manliness simply oozes off him. The minute you lay eyes on him, you know he’s a real man. He needs no prop to give him a hand.