“Think she'll run for office next year?”
Max laughed. “She might.”
Morgan snickered with delight then fixed him with a teasing look. “And don't think I didn't see the way you looked at the Ice Queen earlier. Got a crush?”
Max felt a blush creep up his neck and looked away. “Please,” he scoffed.
Morgan snorted then saluted him with a beer. “Whatever you say.”
“Hey, where'd you get the beer?” Max asked. “And what's that smell?”
“Outside, in a cooler box. Better grab one quick before they're all gone.” She clapped him on the back. “Don't you recognize the smell? Has it been that long?”
Max sniffed the air again, eyes wide. “You're joking. Beer and a braai?”
“It's Christmas, brother. We deserve it.” She winked and flashed him a smile before disappearing into the crowd.
“Who'd have thought we'd live to see another Christmas, let alone celebrate one,” Max marveled.
With a mental shrug, he wandered off in search of a pint.
21
Chapter 21 - Julianne
Crickets sang in the background as Julianne walked across the grass with Captain Breytenbach and his team. Faint laughter and light from the party followed them through the night and the newcomers were nervous and twitchy.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I mean, considering.”
The Captain nodded, then caught her elbow when she stepped into a hole, low heels sinking into the soft ground.
Flustered, she got her shoes unstuck, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He looked at her for a moment before waving a hand around. “How safe are we here?”
“You mean inside the camp?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there's a wall surrounding the living quarters, and it's guarded twenty-four-seven.” Removing her elbow from his grasp, she walked on. “Around the grounds is another fence and we're working on digging a trench around that.”
“I see. Population figures of the towns around here?”
“We're out in the middle of nowhere here. Closest town is about twenty-five kilometers away and that's a small one—about five-thousand. We've already swept the neighboring farms and houses. It's pretty clean.”
He nodded. Julianne burned to ask a thousand questions but one look at his face told her now was not the time.
“You're armed?” she asked instead.
“With what we could salvage from the wreckage,” he replied.
“That's good. We believe in being prepared here.” Walls loomed in the darkness and she waved a hand at the two cottages. “We've arranged these two for you. I hope that's enough for now?”
“It's fine,” Breytenbach replied. “We'll share.”
The oddball named Mike opened his mouth, but the Captain cut him off. “No Mike. Kirstin will not share with you.”
Mike closed his mouth with a disgruntled huff and Kirstin smiled in that scary manner of hers. That set Ronnie and Lenka off, guffawing with genuine mirth.
Julianne watched the team interact then chuckled when the atmosphere lightened. “Well, I'll leave you to sort yourselves out. When you're ready, please join us for the party. There'll be good food and company, I promise.”
“Anywhere we can wash?” Breytenbach asked.
“The ablution blocks are over there. There are soap and toiletries inside your cottages. No clothes yet, sorry.”
“That's all right. You've done more than enough.”
“Need anything else?” Julianne asked as she backtracked. “If you're injured, I can take you to the infirmary.”
“We're fine,” he replied. “Your nurse did a good job earlier.”
Julianne left the group to themselves and checked on the rest. The kids were in good hands for the night. The schoolroom had been converted into a den with colorful sleeping bags and toys. A TV and DVD player had even been hooked up with kids movies playing on the screen. Meanwhile, Buzz and Princess wrestled with each other on the floor.
Elise arrived with the two newcomers, Jenny and Mark, in tow. Both were bathed and wore pajamas. Though shy, they were no longer frightened and sat with Meghan and Anna. Mark's broken arm had been set and put up in a sling and the girls were in awe of his war wound.
Michelle had volunteered to babysit for the night. She was still nervous of men, especially strangers, and had decided to sit out the party. Spending the night with the kids seemed the ideal solution. Already she was passing around cool drink and chips, inviting the kids to a sing-along.
Satisfied, Julianne paid a visit to the infirmary. It was no bigger than a broom closet and already there was talk of building a separate clinic. Jonathan occupied the only bed. According to the Captain, he was a qualified doctor but to Julianne, he looked like a very scared young man. At the moment, he huddled beneath the covers, curled in upon himself.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Dehydrated, starved, and exhausted. I'd guess he's been running on guts alone for weeks, and the recent events served as the last straw,” Hannah replied. “To top it off, he's got a concussion too.”
“Poor boy. Is he going to be all right?”
“He'll be okay. He needs time. Plenty of sleep, good food and a little kindness and he'll be right as rain again.”
“And the little one? How's she?”
“Oh, she's fine. Such a strong little thing and in good health.” Hannah smiled at the sleeping baby in her arms.
“I'm surprised. A baby in a helicopter crash?”
“I know. Miracles never cease.” Hannah cooed at Sam then fixed a stern look on Julianne. “Stop fussing and get back to your party. We'll be fine.”
Julianne laughed. “Fine, fine. I'll send you a plate of goodies.”
Back in the common room, she grabbed a cold cider and took an appreciative sip. It burned and bubbled down her throat, and she sighed with pure enjoyment.
“A Christmas party, Mom? Really?” Max asked.
Folding her arms, she frowned, “It's Christmas, and I found this box filled with decorations in the storeroom, so I thought, why not? We all need to relax and have a little fun.”
Max raised an eyebrow and gave her a small smile. “If you say so. Who am I to complain?”
“Do you think it's too much?”
“I don't know. Everyone could use a boost and this is a great way but...”
“But?” she prodded.
“We don't know if we can trust them.”
“The Captain and his team?”
“Exactly.”
“Let's give them the benefit of the doubt at least.”
“Don't have much of a choice, do we?”
He slipped back into the crowd, leaving her behind with mixed feelings. She watched as the people mingled, laughing and drinking, relaxed. For once, they didn't have to be on their guard. That didn't mean they were being stupid. Joseph patrolled the walls in the meantime, joined by Lisa, Michelle's friend. Afterward, Logan and Max would take turns until morning.
A deep voice from behind startled her out of her reverie. “Good evening, ma'am.”
She whirled around and found herself facing the Captain. He was handsome, in a rough way and obviously a hard man. His hair gleamed from the shower and his breath smelled minty. There was something in his eyes, though, something that pulled at her heartstrings.
“Captain Breytenbach?” she asked, plucking at her flimsy blouse. “How can I help you?”
“I wanted to thank you for all of this,” he said.
“No need to thank me. It's much for our benefit as yours. Something to keep morale up.”
Smiling, he said, “Oh, I understand about morale. And what you did here tonight was genius.”
Blushing, she felt awkward and self-conscious, exposed beneath the intense regard of his eyes. He offered her his arm with a smile and she relaxed a little. As their skin touched, a tingle shot through her fingertips.
“Since you are our hostess tonight, would you care to tell me more about yourselves? You are well organized here.”
“Organized?”
“You have running water, electricity and more than enough food. Even medicine.”
“Oh, that. We've been lucky, I guess,” Julianne replied.
“I'm willing to wager my piece it had nothing to do with luck.”
She grabbed another cider and took to the floor, introducing Breytenbach to people and sharing some of their past with him. She noticed Max standing off to the side with Kirstin. The two were deep in conversation, and Julianne watched with interest. She was as yet unsure of the Nordic sniper.
“Where's the tall gentleman?” she asked. “The big one?”
“Patrolling. He joined your man Joseph up on the walls.”
“That's nice of him.”
“He's not one for partying.” Breytenbach pulled a face. “To be honest, I don't think he trusts your defenses and wanted to check it out for himself.”
She laughed. “That's fine. I'd do the same in a strange place.”
An hour later, they were clapping hands along with the rest as Mike did a drunken Irish jig, feet a blur. He keeled over and Ronnie helped him up, the two staggering off to find more beer.
Deciding it was time, Julianne signaled to Elise, and the children were fetched from the school room. They filed in and Michelle settled them down on cushions in a half circle around the Christmas tree.
They were giggling with excitement and Julianne winked at Meghan which earned her a toothy grin. Peter, Elise's boy, entered dressed as Santa. He looked ridiculous wearing a suit that was too large and a beard that kept falling off, but none of that mattered to the children.
Peter made it to a chair with the suit intact and sat down with the help of Michelle. One by one he doled out the presents, booming out their names in a jolly voice.
It hadn't been easy, but they’d scoured their supplies for suitable gifts earlier and each child got something, including the baby Samantha. Watching the happy scene unfold, Julianne felt tears pricking her eyelids, and she swallowed hard on the knot in her throat.
She started as she felt a warm hand brush hers and looked up into Breytenbach's eyes, shining at her with approval. She basked in the glow and allowed herself to lean against him, feeling safe and secure.
The past three months had been brutal—filled with the loss of loved ones. Watching those happy faces shining with joy reminded her why they couldn't give up. Why they all had to keep fighting for a future. The two pregnant ladies, Erica, and Tumi, sobbed, hands on their bellies and Julianne hoped it would give them hope too.
With the presents gone, the children returned to the schoolroom, clutching their new toys while Santa departed amidst loud cheers, tripping only once when his fake stomach fell out.
“All right, people. Food's ready!” Elise announced. A mini-stampede followed with Logan first in line, as usual.
“We'd better dish up before there's nothing left.”
“Agreed,” Breytenbach replied as Mike staggered past with a plate loaded to the brim. “That man eats like a horse.”
“You haven't seen Logan in action yet,” Julianne snorted.
The food looked amazing. The table groaned beneath the weight of the dishes displayed—honeyed carrots, pumpkin fritters in caramel sauce, buttery peas, savory green beans. On the side stood a selection of desserts—colorful jelly set in layers and topped with whipped cream, decadent malva pudding and custard, milk tart, cookies, chocolates.
The Springbok took place of pride in the center. Enterprising as ever, Elise had used every single bit of the buck. The ribs and chops were marinated and barbecued, the legs slow roasted in the coals and a mouthwatering stew made with the rest. A huge jug of gravy and big bowls of rice rounded out the spread.
“You people don't joke around when you cook,” Breytenbach said.
“Elise never does. She comes from good old-fashioned Boer stock. But don't think we eat like this every day.”
“The simple fact that you have food to spare is a miracle.”
“You can thank Max, Logan, and Elise for that. In the early days, they scavenged freezers from people's houses and froze everything they could get their hands on.” Julianne laughed. “Either that or preserved it.”
“Hi, mom. Enjoying the party?” Morgan asked, joining them at the back of the queue.
“I guess.”
“You guess? Then you haven't had enough to drink yet.” Morgan said, raising a beer in a mocking salute.
“I could never keep up with you youngsters, Morgan.”
They reached the front of the queue and Julianne dished up a generous amount of honeyed carrots, her favorite, along with a solid helping of ribs, peas, and pumpkin fritters.
Morgan, as usual, dished up nothing but meat and pudding as she eschewed vegetables of any kind. This was ironic considering the career path she'd chosen in her old life.
“If you don't mind, I'll eat with my team,” Breytenbach said, excusing himself. Julianne watched him go, a little sad at the empty space his departure caused.
“Come on, Mom.” Morgan found them seats at a nearby table. Logan joined them, already on his second plate.
Julianne watched in disapproval as Morgan downed her beer in one gulp before tucking into her food with gusto. “Slow down. You'll make yourself sick plus it's rude.”
Morgan groaned as she pulled a face and rolled her eyes. “Relax. Live a little.” She punctuated her advice with a forkful of roast and gravy.
Logan joined in on the fun. “Listen to your mom. You'll get fat,” he joked, poking her in the ribs.
“What? Don't you dare call me fat.” Morgan shoved another forkful into her mouth. She chewed with relish before swallowing it down with another swig of beer. Logan's beer.
“Hey, get your own,” Logan said.
Julianne sighed, watching them. Kids. They never grew up and a mother never stopped trying to teach them manners. Then she noticed Morgan go pale. First pale, then green as a light sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead.
“Morgan? You okay?”
Mumbling something incoherent, Morgan clapped a hand over her mouth and ran from the table. A startled Logan followed her, only to return a few minutes later.
“Don't worry. She's just nauseous. Too much booze.” He sat down and scraped the food from Morgan's dish into his own, then dug in with pleasure stamped on his face.
Shaking her head in amusement, Julianne said, “I warned her. But she's incredibly stubborn.”
“Tell me about it.”
After dinner, Julianne decided to have a last drink before retiring for the night. She grabbed a cider and walked outside, hoping for fresh air. The breeze was pleasant against her hot skin, raising goose bumps.
A boot scraped against gravel and Julianne realized she wasn't alone. A few feet away, Breytenbach sat on a wooden bench, looking at something in his hands. She walked over, not sure if her presence was wanted.
“Can I sit?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Julianne perched on the edge of the bench in silence, not sure what to say. The minutes passed, and neither said a word. She shifted, playing with the bottle in her hands, picking at the label.
“I still think of that night,” Breytenbach said. The words were low, rough in timbre. Broken. “It haunts my dreams.”
She waited, knowing if he wanted to say more, he would.
“I was on a mission but got sidetracked. They were trapped in a pre-school. The women and children. We tried to save them but we were too late. So many of them died that night. Torn apart. I still hear their screams in my nightmares.”
She swallowed, trying not to imagine what it must have been like. “But you saved a lot of them, didn't you?”
“Sure, we saved a few, even evacuated them to a camp where we fought for weeks to keep them alive. They're all dead now. I couldn't save any of them. Except for Sam.”
“Sam?”
“The baby, Samantha. I took her from her mother that night. She gave her life so her daughter could live, shielding her with her own body. Her little boy was dead by the time I found them. I never want to see such a thing again as long as I live.”
Breytenbach was silent while he relived the horrors of that night. Julianne did nothing, lending her quiet support while trying not to imagine all those children dying in such a horrid manner.
After a while, he continued. “She made me promise to look after Sam, and I will keep that promise with my last dying breath. That little girl means the world to me.”
He looked at a worn photo in his hands. “I found this among the woman's belongings. Sam will want something of theirs one day. Something of her own.”
“Can I see?” Julianne asked.
She took the photo he handed her and looked at the family smiling at the camera, oblivious to the oncoming tragedy of their lives. Her hands shook, breath hitching in her throat. Her vision narrowed until all she could see were their smiling faces.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” a concerned Breytenbach asked.
Julianne hardly heard him through the buzzing in her ears. Tears welled up and she sobbed, one uncontrollable spasm after the other.
“That's my daughter and her husband with their children. Sam!”
Her feet were flying, skimming over the ground to the infirmary. She burst through the door and scared a dozing Hannah out of her chair. In a makeshift crib made from an empty box, Samantha slept, one chubby fist jammed into her mouth. Curls so blond they were almost white, framed her face.
She's grown so much.
Julianne registered Breytenbach's presence behind her, followed by Max and Morgan. She assumed he'd told them the news but couldn't bear to look away from Sam's face.
The full force of Lilian and Michael's death hit her once more and she gasped, doubling over. The pain coiled and burned through her body like fire. Not even John's death had hurt this much. It was visceral.
It eased when Max and Morgan stood by her, lending their silent support and sympathy. At least, she still had them, and Samantha. Meghan too. Perhaps, instead of mourning, she should be celebrating.
Last Another Day Page 21
