Out of the Shadows

by Melanie Mitchell

  Her smile dissolved. She paled, and Ben saw a wave of desolation wash through her eyes. She stood and carried her empty glass and bowl to the sink.

  Here it is, he thought. Here’s what’s troubling her. Wanting to crawl under the table, Ben closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Leslie, I’m sorry,” he started, but she turned back to face him.

  Leaning against the small cupboard, she shook her head. “No. It’s okay.” She shook her head a second time and bit her bottom lip. When she spoke, he had to listen very carefully because the words were so faint.

  “They had blond hair....” She smiled slightly. Her eyes appeared to be focused inwardly as she remembered. She blinked rapidly, swallowed and started over. “They had blond hair and blue eyes. Brian’s was a dark, ash-blond, but my little girl was a towhead. She was full of energy, bouncing all through the house... She loved to play on the swing set in the backyard and to read books....”

  She paused. Ben remained silently watchful and waited for her to go on. When she continued to stare into space, he asked quietly, “What was her name?”

  Tears appeared in her eyes, and she whispered, “Emma. She was soft and sweet and trusting and stubborn....” The tears began to flow in twin streams down her cheeks; she didn’t acknowledge them. “I loved to sing to her at night and tell her stories. That’s one of the things I miss the most—bedtime.” She smiled sadly. “Every night I would give her a bath and then brush her teeth. Then we would tuck her into bed, and Brian or I would read a book. Then we would kiss her good-night.” Finally, she brushed at the tears with the back of her hand. “Brian was a wonderful father.”

  Leslie reached for a clean towel to dry her eyes. Ben saw her hands tremble as she performed the simple task. He wanted her to talk. He wanted to listen. Indeed, he needed to listen. His voice was gentle. “Tell me about Brian.”

  Still avoiding looking directly at the man seated at the table, Leslie sat back down and wiped her eyes again. Her voice was heavy with emotion as she answered, “We met while he was a fourth-year med student. I had just finished nursing school and was working on the cardiac floor at one of the big hospitals in Dallas. Brian was very good-looking, and all of the young nurses had a crush on him. At first I wasn’t really attracted to him because I thought he was too serious. But one evening he asked me to go out for coffee. We ended up talking until three in the morning.” A sad light appeared in her eyes as she remembered. “I learned that even though he was serious, he was also smart, compassionate and funny. We fell in love that night.”

  The yearning in Leslie’s expression and the simplicity of her statement cut through Ben’s core like a sword. He recognized jealousy, which he knew was inappropriate, but that did not change the reality. Dear Lord, he thought, I’m jealous of a dead man. Ashamed, he turned his focus back to her.

  She was saying, “We were married six months later. I started the nurse-practitioner program in the meantime, thinking that maybe one day we could work together. I got pregnant during the second year of his residency. It was an accident, but we were both happy about it, and just a little terrified. By that time, Brian had decided to become a pediatrician, and we figured he could get great experience at home.” She brushed away another tear. “I was offered a position teaching nursing at the university, and I was able to do that even when Emma was a baby. Brian helped a lot.”

  She stopped again, apparently reluctant to continue. Unsure what to do, Ben reached out and gently wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “What happened?” His eyes held hers, willing her to believe that he cared and wasn’t just curious.

  She swallowed. “I got pregnant again and had to be confined to bed for a few weeks. One morning Brian took Emma to school, and...a truck... He must not have seen the truck.” She started sobbing. “The truck hit them... Then...because of the shock, I miscarried.”

  Tears stained her cheeks and her eyes rose to meet his. “It was two years ago today. Two years... Oh, God. I miss them so much.”

  She leaned over the table and buried her head in her arms. Her shoulders shook convulsively, and hoarse sounds came from her throat. Ben’s heart broke for her, and tears formed in his own eyes. He could think of no comforting words. Finally, unable to simply watch, he stood and tenderly drew her up with him. She melted into his embrace. Her head rested on his shoulder; her arms circled his waist. He held her tightly and lightly stroked her hair. He closed his eyes and slowly rocked her back and forth.

  When she had finally calmed, Ben pulled away. He placed one hand under her chin and angled her face up so he could see her.

  Noticing his tears, her eyes widened with astonishment. Gently, she reached up and wiped the tears from his cheek, just as he had done for her earlier. Without taking his eyes from hers, he caught her hand and kissed her palm.

  Shivers coursed through Leslie, and she placed her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. “Hold me,” she choked. “Hold me again. Please...I need... Please.”

  At that moment, Ben would have done anything for her. There was no way he would turn down her plea. He held her gently, his hands lovingly touching her back and shoulders, roaming and caressing. His lips brushed her hair.

  She raised her face and, in unspoken agreement, her lips found his. The kiss was soft, gentle and comforting. His hands rose to frame her face, and his lips moved to touch her cheeks and forehead before returning to her lips. Tension built, and the kiss deepened and intensified. Her cheeks had tasted of the salt from her tears, but her mouth carried the sweetness of the ice cream.

  Emotion and energy coursed between them in waves, sparking something that strengthened with each rapid breath. Reflexively, his hands moved to caress her arms. Oddly, the contact with the softness of her skin startled him back to reality. That touch was like being burned to the core by something warm and precious, something elemental and essential.

  Immediately, his hands stilled. He could not take advantage of her vulnerability.

  He loved her too much.

  Summoning what tiny shreds of self-control he could find, he wrested his lips away. She struggled to pull him back as urgently as he tried to push her away. He stilled her hands and held them, his own hands shaking with tension. “Leslie,” he said with a sternness that surprised him—a sternness he did not intend. “Leslie,” he repeated, trying to sound gentle and mostly succeeding. “Look at me.”

  She let out a little humming moan and moved into him again, trying to lean against him even as he restrained her hands. “No. No. Hold me. I need to be held.” Her words were frenzied.

  In desperation, he grabbed her wrists and held them firmly. This time he wasn’t gentle when he shook her. His voice was harsh. “No. Leslie. Stop!” He sighed, and his tone quieted. “Open your eyes, honey, and look at me.”

  Slowly her eyes opened, and Ben watched as, in a breath, passion was replaced first by embarrassment and then by contrition. Her face turned red and then paled. She cringed and closed her eyes tightly. She tried to pull away from him, but he continued to hold her wrists.

  “Please let me go.” She whispered, “Brian. Brian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...” Her voice trailed off, and she started sobbing and fiercely trying to pull away from Ben’s grip.

  Fearing he would hurt her, he was forced to let go.

  She fled from the kitchen.

  * * *

  PUSHING HER WAY into her bedroom and leaning against the far wall, Leslie felt panicked. She had disgraced herself. But what tore through the core of her heart was that suddenly she could not picture her husband. She tried, but all she could see was Ben.

  Brian and Emma had been a constant part of her subconsciousness, and she could always recall memories with ease. Now, without warning, she had lost Brian’s face. Anxious to regain the mental image of her cherished husband, she remembered that she had put his photograph between the pages o
f a book to make sure it would not get damaged. Wildly she tore through the books on the bedside table, dropping them to the floor as she quickly flipped through the pages until she found the photograph.

  * * *

  AT FIRST BEN was determined not to follow Leslie into the bedroom. He thought it best to leave her alone until he was in better control. The sound of multiple thuds alarmed him, though. Resigned, he went to investigate and paused at the doorway where he saw her sitting on the end of the small bed. Her head was bowed, and tears were dropping onto her lap.

  He had to step over several books to reach her. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down beside her, carefully avoiding touching her. He looked at her hands and saw that she held a portrait of a young man. The man in the picture had dark blond hair and light blue eyes, and Ben was pounded by another wave of jealousy. But as he stared at the picture, the jealousy simply vanished, replaced by pity. Indeed, he was intensely sorry for the young man who had experienced so little time to be with this fantastic woman who so obviously adored him. He could not think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound trite, so he closed his eyes and waited.

  After a time, Leslie’s tears were spent. She wiped her cheeks with one hand and looked down at the picture again. How could she have forgotten what Brian looked like? She knew his face as well as she knew her own. She smiled sadly at the portrait and smoothed it gently.

  With reddened eyes, she turned to Ben and found that he was not watching her. Rather, he was leaning forward with his head resting in his hands and, as far as she could tell, his eyes were closed. He was so still, she wasn’t certain if he was awake.

  Delicately, she reached out to him and touched his forearm. At once he looked up and searched her face. In her expression he saw sorrow, fatigue and something else—perhaps resignation.

  Her throat was dry, and she had to swallow before she could talk. “I’m sorry. Ben, I’m sorry I threw myself at you like that. I just... I’m so sorry....”

  Ben placed his hands on her shoulders and, leaning forward, gently kissed her on the forehead. With a voice that was deeper than usual he said, “Sweetheart, that’s the most uncalled-for apology I’ve ever received.” He managed a self-deprecating grin. “Contrary to prevailing rumors, it’s not every day I have a beautiful woman wanting me to hold her and kiss her. I can hardly complain.” He sat back and dropped his hands.

  She blinked with embarrassment and looked away. “Leslie, don’t be ashamed. I can’t even begin to conceive of the pain you’ve experienced.” He took both of her hands in his. “But, Les, I do know a great deal about loneliness. I understand the ache of wanting to talk to someone, to be with someone, to hold someone. I was glad to be here with you tonight.”

  She saw the sadness in his eyes and heard the honesty in his words. “Ben, thank you. You have helped so much. It was just because it’s the anniversary of...” She swallowed and blinked, trying to keep from crying again.

  “Leslie, I truly do understand. There’s no need to explain.” He reached out and smoothed her hair. “Look, I’d really better be going. If you’re all right, that is.” He stood and watched her as he waited for an answer.

  Leslie got to her feet. Biting her bottom lip, she stammered, “P-please, if you can stay a while longer. We can talk some more, or you can read. Anything.” She swallowed hard. “Ben, please. I don’t want to be alone tonight. I know it’s asking a lot, but...”

  Ben regarded her with compassion, this time working hard to hide the depth of his love. Finally, he caught her small hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Look, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed? If you want me to stay, I can drag one of the exam cots onto the porch and sleep there.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “But if you wake up before me in the morning, just don’t mistake me for a patient....”

  She managed a little smile. “Thank you, Ben. That would be perfect.” They stood in silence for a few seconds. It took all of the self-control Ben had left to refrain from taking her in his arms again. Finally, he turned to leave. At the door he paused and looked back at her. Her face was red, and her eyes were swollen. Her hair was mussed and her clothing askew. She had never looked more beautiful to him.

  He smiled and whispered, “Good night.” The door closed quietly behind him.

  * * *

  LESLIE WOKE EARLY the next morning feeling surprisingly refreshed. She dressed, washed her face and braided her hair quickly, then went to the front of the house to wake Ben. She thought she would make breakfast for him to show her appreciation. But when she made her way through the clinic and saw that all the cots were in their normal places, she knew her plan would not happen. He had already gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TITUS TURNED THE clinic’s ancient Jeep through the compound’s open gate and drove a hundred feet or so to Ben’s house. It was fortunate that he’d been there before, for although the house was fairly close to the airstrip, the road was isolated and difficult to find.

  From the passenger seat, Leslie studied the small buildings. Ben’s house was built of rough boards painted tan, blending effectively with the surrounding savanna. There was no porch and little exterior adornment. Another small house, about the same size, was set to one side. Leslie assumed it was Simon’s place when he stayed with Ben. Two additional outbuildings were located behind the dwellings. Like the clinic, an eight-foot cinder-block wall with a heavy wrought-iron gate surrounded the compound. Unlike the clinic, razor wire was attached to the top of the fence, effectively keeping out thieves and miscreants.

  It had been five days since Ben slipped out of the clinic in the early hours of the morning. Since then, Leslie had often found herself looking out the windows, hoping to see his Jeep. She spent considerable time each day recalling fragments of their conversations and trying to analyze his words and actions. And, when she was alone in bed at night and allowed her thoughts to drift, she remembered the feel of his arms as he held her. She remembered the strength and compassion it had taken him to back away. In the depth of the night, she was willing to admit that she wanted to see him again. She longed for more soft words, another embrace, another kiss.

  Her musings left her confused and conflicted. She was unsure of his actions, emotions and motives—just as she was unsure of her own. She was certain that he found her attractive. But his reputation with women made her skeptical that his response was exclusively directed at her. What surprised her was that he had been the one to halt their passionate encounter.

  In any regard, Leslie was puzzled and distressed when he didn’t come by. After the fourth day, she determined that she would go see him. In mental self-defense, she reminded herself that she did not want a relationship—she just wanted to thank him. But she knew that was self-delusion.

  As an excuse, she decided to take him a small gift. With Judy’s help, she gathered the ingredients needed to make chocolate-chip cookies and baked them early in the morning, before the first patients arrived. To justify the timing of her visit, she decided to see an elderly woman she was treating. The woman lived in a tiny village several miles past the turnoff to the airfield and was not able to walk the distance to the clinic. Titus could drive her to see the patient and then stop by Ben’s compound on their way home. Leslie had carefully wrapped the plate of cookies in a towel and placed them in the backseat of the Jeep along with her supplies.

  The house call lasted only an hour, and Titus drove into Ben’s small compound around four. Although the gate was open, Ben’s Jeep was missing and there was no sign of him or Simon. There were, however, two large brown dogs of no identifiable breed resting in the meager shade of a baobab tree. The dogs barked loudly at first, but they apparently recognized Titus and quickly quieted, returning to lie placidly in the shade.

  “It looks like no one is home,” Leslie murmured. She tried to tamp down her disappointment. “But I’ll check
to make sure.”

  It was Titus’s habit to wait in the covered vehicle while Leslie made her house calls, so he remained seated as she climbed out of the Jeep, carefully balancing the cookies. Feeling foolish at the quivering in her stomach, she crossed the dirt path and knocked on the door.

  * * *

  BEN WAS WASHING at an aged porcelain sink when he heard a vehicle. He had just returned from several points along the coast and was in the process of removing the sweat and grime incurred during the three-day trip. Since the dogs had stopped barking and he was expecting Simon, he was surprised when someone knocked.

  Hastily, he toweled his face and upper body and thrust his arms into a clean shirt. As he crossed to the door, he glanced out the window to see if he needed to arm himself—and was further surprised to see Titus sitting in Mama Joe’s rickety Jeep. His heart rate rose as he opened the door to find Leslie holding a plate covered by a lightweight towel.

  The aroma of sugar and butter was lovely, as was the appearance of the young nurse. She was neatly dressed in her normal attire: a khaki skirt and carefully pressed chambray shirt. As usual, her wavy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail from which small wisps had escaped. His heart skipped a beat when her blue eyes found his and she smiled.

  A little shyly, she held out the covered plate. “I wanted to pay you back for the ice-cream sundaes, so I made cookies.”

  Ben stepped aside to allow her to enter. As she did, he leaned out to catch Titus’s eye and waved to the older man. After closing the door, he turned back to Leslie and found her studying her surroundings with interest.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting company,” he said.

  The interior of Ben’s home contrasted markedly with the dusty, sparse exterior. The front room was a combination living room and bedroom. The furnishings consisted of a long cushioned bench and a comfortable wooden rocker. A wooden table and matching chairs stood in one corner, and in the corner farthest from the door was a small bed—really only a cot—neatly covered with a thin cotton blanket and draped with mosquito netting. A tall chest was located nearby. The small but well-appointed kitchen could be viewed through a door next to the cot, and there was a bathroom beyond that.