by Holly Rayner
How many times has he saved me? I asked myself as we walked out into the blazing sunlight again. Two? Three? I’m starting to lose count. But whatever the number, I knew now that I was in the company of a truly amazing man—and that he cared for me.
What am I going to do once we get back—when he has to go? I had already started wondering if I would be able to stand it. Now, the worry rolled through my head again as we started plodding north.
The late afternoon heat started to falter as the sun dipped toward the horizon. The dry air would not hold it long—which meant that soon enough, we would be walking through the cold again. At least I still had the blanket Iyad had given me.
We kept quiet mostly as we walked, just like before. The heat was still strong enough to drain us; to conserve our strength, we focused on the way ahead. As we went along, I cycled the events of the last three days through my mind. Again, I thought about how I would never have believed it all if someone else had told me about experiencing it. It was all too wild and frightening.
The dunes were taking over the landscape again as we went further north. The scrub and grasses thinned out until finally the rolling, dun-colored sand surrounded us on every side. The shadows were starting to lengthen by then, as the sun dropped toward the western horizon.
Karla…what would you think of what I’m going through now? What advice would you have?
I stumbled a little in the soft sand, and Vincenzo reached back to offer me a steadying arm. I took it gladly, still mostly lost in thought. I knew that my best friend would have hung on every word of my story, no matter how unbelievable it was. But what about Vincenzo? Would Karla have laughed to discover that I had gone from swearing off men to getting a hopeless crush on a prince? What advice would she have given me, once she was done teasing me?
I hoped that she would have liked him. I hoped that she would have helped me figure out what choice to make if anything serious happened between myself and him. Go with him when he left for somewhere else? Admit the inevitable and go our separate ways?
I was used to being alone. Perhaps far too used to it. The only real separation that had hurt me had been Karla’s death. Now, I could sense more pain on the horizon if I didn’t figure out how to deal with my feelings before Vincenzo left.
“Are you doing all right?” Vincenzo asked me gently. “You look troubled.”
“I’m fine,” I reassured him quickly. “I could really use another bath, but that’s it. How long do you think it will take us to return if we have to do it all on foot?”
“Four more days after tonight,” he sighed. “Hopefully, we’ll run into civilization along the way, and be able to get some help.” But then his jaw tightened, and he looked back at me firmly. “I’m going to get you back safely. Don’t you worry about that.”
“I believe you,” I said softly, gratefully.
He smiled.
Inside, though, I kept wondering: even with my leg healing fast, would I be able to keep going for another four days?
Chapter 22
Vincenzo
If I hadn’t been attached to Rose before, I certainly was now. The possibility of losing her to a snake bite had made it clear to me just how much. In those frantic moments, as I had projected outward calm to take control of the situation, I had secretly been terrified. Terrified of her being bitten, of her going through the pain, and of her slowly dying thanks to our being far, far away from any properly equipped hospital.
Fortunately, I had been quick and clever enough. She had credited me as a dashing prince and a hero, which felt good for my ego—but in the end, my efforts had been partly luck the whole time. At least she had managed to stay still despite her terror.
But that was Rose. She didn’t think so, but I saw just how remarkable she was. Her courage and compassion, her sensitivity and intelligence, the fact that she had overcome what I could only guess was post-traumatic stress enough to return to work as a nurse the moment that someone else’s life depended on it.
I almost kissed her in that cave. I wanted to with my whole heart. But it’s probably good that I didn’t. It was growing clearer and clearer to me that Rose was a cautious romantic, she deserved better than a dusty cave as the site of our first kiss.
I kept an eye on her the whole time that she struggled along beside me, ready to steady her if she should stumble again. She was barely limping now. Her braid was wispy and tangled at the end. She didn’t look scared, or as if she was in pain—simply exhausted, dusty, and determined to see this through with me. That’s my girl.
Sadly, I knew that in spite of our growing connection, it would be tested again nearly as soon as we got back. I could not possibly stay now that the insurgents had put a call in to my family. Not only would I have to worry about violence against the aid center in an attempt to recapture me—I would also have to worry about my family coming to collect me. It was time to move on.
But if I go…can I really leave her behind? I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this strongly about a woman. I did not want to leave her behind. But could I convince her to come with me instead?
You are getting way ahead of yourself, Vincenzo. And yet things were happening very quickly, and I had no idea how long I could continue fence-sitting about my feelings for Rose. I had said nothing, but my actions spoke for me in many ways. And so did hers.
The memory of her trembling in my arms and clinging to me dogged me as I walked. This was no time for desire. It was time to survive, and to help her to survive. Everything else was secondary.
We crested one of the tall, wind-sculpted dunes, and suddenly I stopped her, shading my eyes. I could see gleams in the distance, among dark shapes: windows, set into buildings. Better yet, threads of smoke rose from many of the chimneys. In the growing dusk, I could see a few lights glowing.
“A village,” I said. “An inhabited one.”
Rose put her hands over her mouth, eyes going wet. “Oh, my God, we’re saved.”
I laid a hand on her shoulder. “Not quite yet. We do not know which faction they support.”
She turned a horrified gaze to me. “Vincenzo, we…we’re out of water now. We’re almost out of rice too, and everything else. We can’t afford not to try.”
I frowned. She had a point. But if we let desperation destroy our caution, we could end up walking into a trap. And then, our frantic escape, the risks, not to mention what Iyad had risked…would all be for nothing.
I had wrestled with my guilt over catching Rose up in my problems for this entire journey. I had never been the sort of man to let others fight my battles for me—or let my status and choices affect others in a negative way. The fact that it was Rose who had suffered because yet another group of angry, desperate men was out to get me only made it that much worse. I would not allow her to come to any more harm because of my mistakes.
“I’m tempted to scout ahead and see how they react to me,” I admitted, but that just made her grab my arm.
“No. For better or worse, we stick together. I’ll die out here without your help anyway.”
Her fingers dug against my bicep even as she looked up at me pleadingly. Don’t leave me alone, her eyes begged.
I couldn’t. I immediately felt a stab of shame for even thinking of it.
I nodded slowly—and then looked back at the village. “I suppose you’re right. Let’s move toward it and see what we can discover about the inhabitants.” Hopefully, this was a completely ordinary village whose inhabitants were simply sick of this war and had no loyalty to the insurgents. Most people in this small country were like that, from what I had seen: simply tired of it all.
But it only took one insurgent spy to blow our cover.
I percolated the risks around in my head as we started out. Rose’s safety would be at risk either way that we went, and that was my primary concern. Leave her out here and go, and there was a chance that I would not make it back, or that she would come to some harm before I returned. Go with her, and we m
ight walk into the same trap. Pass the village over, and we might not reach another source of water in time.
None of these are good options. That just leaves me following my instincts.
The half-mile walk to the village was one of long shadows, unbearable thirst, and the tempting smell of cooking food whenever the wind shifted the smoke toward us. It must have been suppertime—something which made my stomach growl to think about.
Be strong. Rose needs you. Do not give in to temptation. Especially after urging her not to. I hated hypocrites.
As we crouched in the brush at the edge of the village, I got a better look around. The village looked completely ordinary, untouched by battle: no broken buildings, no bullet holes. Perhaps it was simply tucked far enough out in the dunes that it had no strategic importance. Or perhaps it had guardians from one side or the other.
Herdsmen corralled their goats and fat-tailed sheep; children kicked a ball around, enjoying the last scraps of daylight. Women drew water at an ancient wellhead. Merchants at the small open-air market were packing up their stalls. No signs of soldiers of either faction—but that didn’t make the place neutral.
“So what do you think?” Rose whispered. “Do we go introduce ourselves?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “We need more information.”
There was an apology in my tone; she visibly fought down her disappointment. My heart sank. My mouth was already dry as old leather; I could only imagine how much worse it was for Rose. Just walking in the late afternoon heat had necessitated burning through our meager water supplies, and now…
Now, our choice was to die in the desert, or risk capture for a few dippers of water and the chance of a ride back. Is it worth it?
As I stood there ambivalent, a piercing sound split the evening quiet. It was a woman’s cry of pain. Seconds later, it came again, hoarse and strained, as if the woman was struggling to keep from crying out and simply couldn’t.
Rose and I exchanged looks. Well, that decides it.
“Let’s go,” I said sharply.
She nodded, and we hurried into the village.
The small crowd at the well looked up as we hurried into town, but I disregarded them as we rushed past, following the sound. When a small girl darted from behind her mother and ran across my path, I stopped short and let her retrieve the child.
“God bless you!” I said in Arabic, remembering my manners, and heard one of the women sigh with relief.
No, ladies, the foreigners are not any kind of a threat. Just let us go on our way, and soon enough we’ll be gone from here. Just ignore when I come back and shove my entire head into the well bucket.
A small cottage near the square was the source of the woman’s cries. As we neared it, a skinny older man burst out of the door and stood panting in the dusty street, desperation and a touch of despair on his long face. One of the women from the well hurried over to him, and I heard them talking rapidly as we walked over.
“What is it, Yusuf? Is she all right? It’s been hours!” Three more women came up behind her, fretting.
“I…” He turned his head to look up at them. “No. Something is wrong, and I do not know how to fix it.”
“Excuse me, sir, we are new to this place. Is everything all right?” I asked at once as I walked up.
Rose kept a slight distance, letting me take the lead. When the woman cried out again from within the cottage, I heard her suck air through her teeth in sympathy.
The old man blinked at me for a moment, clearly unused to foreigners, but then said slowly, “Her first child is coming. But something is wrong, and we have no one to help her. The midwife is in another village right now.”
I turned to Rose. “It seems that I need your help again. Are you willing?”
She nodded, grim determination on her face. “Always.”
I turned to Yusuf and smiled at him reassuringly. “It is a good thing that we decided to try stopping here. My assistant and I are part of a medical team working in Safirah. I am a doctor and she a nurse.”
His eyes widened. “A doctor? You must come see her! Come at once!” His face a picture of hope and desperation, the man grabbed my arm and practically hauled me inside, while Rose hurried after us.
The cottage was even smaller than the one we had sheltered in before. There was a double bed taking up the far corner, the tiny kitchen was crammed in next to the small living room, and a set of narrow stairs led up to what I could only assume was a storage loft. However, it was clean and well-tended, and as I glanced up into the loft, I saw it was full of storage jars—probably grain and other foods. These people were well-off by local standards. But right now, that did not help them.
On the bed lay a young, wavy-haired woman in labor, exhausted and panicked-looking as she clutched at her swollen belly. A contraction made it ripple, and she sat up slightly with the pain, her toes curling hard. Another cry escaped her—and then she noticed us and lay back, panting, staring at us both with wide brown eyes as Yusuf led us over.
“This man is a doctor,” he explained, and the woman widened her eyes with hope and nodded. “The woman is his nurse. They have come to help with the baby.”
I didn’t give my name. I didn’t want there to be any chance that we could be traced to this place, but I inclined my head in greeting. “Let’s get started.”
I directed Rose to keep the woman focused and comforted while I determined what was going wrong with the delivery. Under the concealing blanket, I could not see the baby crowning, though the contractions seemed to be close enough together for birth.
“Do not push,” I instructed the woman. “You must resist the urge until I tell you.”
She nodded, clutching Rose’s hand in a death grip. Rose smoothed her stray hairs back and talked to her softly. Her Arabic was imperfect, but the woman still looked very relieved.
Another contraction hit. I heard the woman grunt in pain. “I want to push,” she gasped out.
“No, you mustn’t. If you do, you could hurt the baby and yourself. Just hold on.”
Rose winced as the woman’s grip on her tightened, but didn’t try to extricate her hand.
I washed my hands in the water basin and put on my last clean pair of gloves, then bent forward to examine what was going on.
I winced as I saw that what was crowning was not a head at all, but a shoulder. The baby had rotated awkwardly, and I had to get in there and adjust it so that its mother could push it out cleanly, or both mother and child would be harmed by delivery.
I straightened and looked between Yusuf and the young woman, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “Your baby is turned partway, which is causing the problem. I must turn him. Please, try to relax,” I told the woman.
She nodded, then crushed her eyes shut as another contraction hit; they were coming closer and closer together.
Fortunately, the child wasn’t that badly out of place—just enough that the mother couldn’t birth him without help. He moved as I checked for the position of the umbilical cord, so he wouldn’t get pinched: whatever else was happening, they were both still alive.
She gasped when I did the adjustment but made no other sounds of pain. “There. Now your boy will come out headfirst. Next time you feel contractions, I want you to push.”
After that, the labor went a lot more smoothly. At the mother’s side, I could see how pale Rose was, how her eyes were sunken with dehydration and exhaustion. And yet she never wavered, never showed her pain.
She’s amazing, I thought, filled with warmth as I looked over at her. I thought of her fragility, of her strength, of her tenderness, of her defensiveness, of her skill and her sometimes total lack of confidence in herself. All the different traits that made up who she was. As I finally saw the baby crown properly, I wondered if I could even go on without Rose by my side.
But the truth was…whether I could or not, I didn’t want to. The realization sent a surge of warmth through me. But now was not the time to daydream ab
out making Rose and I more of an item; I set my teeth and focused on the job at hand.
Minutes later, I delivered a healthy baby boy, who mewled and squirmed in irritation at being pushed out into the world.
“Sorry, little one,” I told him as I clipped his umbilical cord and wrapped him in a clean towel. “It was time to come out and meet everyone!”
The mother let go of Rose’s hand and reached for her baby, happy tears in her eyes. I laid the child in her arms, and she gazed down at him as he wiggled and waved his tiny fists. She was too exhausted to speak, but she smiled at me and at Rose in turn.
Yusuf wept happily as he was handed the small bundle. “Inshallah,” he said with soft wonder. “Truly, you have saved them both.”
“Happy to have been of help,” I said quietly. “We’re going to step out and give you some time alone with the little one.”
Outside, the sun had set, and lamps and torches had been lit all down the central lane. The small gaggle of women were waiting just outside the door, moving aside from us as we emerged.
“Does she live?” a woman asked me worriedly.
“She and the baby both,” I assured her quickly. “I imagine the parents will make an announcement soon.”
“Oh, it’s just Yusuf and his daughter right now; her husband is fighting at the front.” But she was beaming. “He will be so happy once he gets back!”
We left them behind as I walked over to the well to get a breath of fresh air. It was cooling down fast, but my throat was so dry that I didn’t care if I spilled on myself.
I scooped up a bucketful of water as Rose stood beside me, shifting eagerly, and took an experimental sip before lustily taking several swallows. The water spilled onto my shirt on either side of my collar and nearly got up my nose. I barely cared.