Out of the Shadows

by Melanie Mitchell

  She chewed her bottom lip and nodded in reply, then kissed his throat gently before dropping her hands and stepping back to let him leave.

  This time, he made it through the door before he turned again to face her. His demeanor had lightened a little, and his expression now held a hint of his usual impertinence. “You have to tell me something.”

  Leslie pushed away a trailing tear and gave him a puzzled look. “What?”

  “Is your ‘daddy’ really an anesthesiologist?”

  For the first time in several hours, she actually laughed. Through a watery giggle she answered, “Hardly. Dad is a mailman, but I didn’t think that would fit Meredith’s profile.”

  Heartened, he grinned at her. Shaking his head, he said with wonder, “You were terrific, you know. I had to bite my cheek to keep a straight face or else I would have blown the entire thing. Shoot, you almost had me convinced that you were afraid of ‘those mean ol’ lions.’” He was still smiling as he climbed into the Jeep.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LESLIE’S OBLIGATION to the clinic in Kenya was nearing an end. Mama Joe was due back in just three weeks, and then she would go home. When she considered the rapidly approaching time for her departure, her emotions were mixed. She was anxious to see her family and experience the wonderful conveniences of American life, which she vowed to never again take for granted. But at the same time, she dreaded the thought of leaving Namanga and saying goodbye to the people who had come to respect and rely on her—and those she had come to care for, too. And at night when she was alone, she conceded that what she dreaded most was the possibility of never seeing Ben again.

  The days following the eventful trip to Mombasa were busy, first with routine clinic patients and then with the pervasive crises that were faced almost daily. Wednesday afternoon, Paul stopped by to invite Leslie to dinner. She readily agreed, but, as he was leaving, Paul mentioned that Ben was coming, too. That bit of news gave her pause as she was both reluctant and eager to see him. She sighed in resignation, knowing it was too late to back out.

  It was after six that evening when Titus dropped Leslie off at the Merdians’ house. Ben’s Jeep was parked next to Paul’s Land Rover, and Leslie steadied her emotions for the meeting, telling herself she would be friendly but detached. As soon as she saw him, though, she knew that following her plan would be impossible. Where Ben Murphy was concerned, she would never be detached.

  Beth opened the door before Leslie had a chance to knock, and the little girl welcomed her excitedly. Ben and Paul stood to greet the new arrival, and Leslie walked forward to give Paul a quick hug. “I’m sorry I’m late. As we were about to leave, Mrs. Ngundu brought in her youngest son. Evidently he’d found a broken bottle he was trying to use to store trinkets.” She laughed and shook her head. “He just needed a few stitches.”

  Paul chuckled. “I know that little guy. He’s a walking accident.”

  Leslie finally turned her attention to Ben and was struck by the undisguised yearning in his expression. Her reaction was involuntarily physical. She felt herself flush deeply, and her heartbeat rose to an uncomfortably rapid rhythm.

  He grasped her shoulders lightly before kissing her on the cheek. “Evening, Leslie.”

  Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she swallowed with some difficulty before replying, “Hi, Ben. It’s good to see you.”

  Both waited for the other to speak again, and when neither did, Paul announced, “Uh...Judy’s in the kitchen. I’ll go tell her you’re here.”

  As he turned away, Leslie stopped him. With lightness in her tone that she did not feel, she said, “No, let me. I’ll see what I can do to help.” She did not glance back as she escaped to the kitchen.

  After the initial awkwardness, an ease settled on the group as they gathered around the dinner table. The meal was delightful, full of laughter. After dinner, the men entertained the children while Leslie helped Judy with the dishes. Initially, their conversation centered on Leslie’s work and Judy’s school, but midway through the cleanup, Judy asked, “Did you and Ben have some kind of argument? You’re both acting like something is wrong.”

  Keeping her attention on the plate she was washing, Leslie answered, “It wasn’t an argument. It was really more like...” Struggling for an explanation, she bit her lip and glanced at her friend. “Judy, do you know anything about what Ben does? I mean, other than the charter service?”

  Judy paused in the process of drying a glass. “Honestly, Leslie, I’m not sure. Ben never discusses it. I think Paul may know more, but he hasn’t shared it with me.” She sighed and set the glass on the counter. She placed one hand on Leslie’s arm to gain her full attention. “Leslie, it’s clear that in many ways Ben is not what he seems. I can’t tell you what he does or why. But I do know this—” she looked squarely at her friend “—he loves you.”

  Tears threatened, and Leslie nodded. “I just don’t know what to do about it,” she whispered.

  A short time later the women joined the men and children in the living room. Despite the serious discussion in the kitchen, the conversation was unforced and natural, and soon they were all laughing companionably. Titus arrived at the appointed time, and Leslie rose to leave as the Jeep pulled into the driveway. She hugged each member of the Merdian family. She knew that she’d have only a few more opportunities to be with them, and the realization saddened her deeply.

  Impulsively she took Ben’s hand and pulled him toward the door. Paul and Judy glanced at each other and in unspoken agreement allowed the pair to leave the room unaccompanied. Judy closed the door and distracted the children by telling them to get ready for bed.

  Alone on the covered porch, Leslie and Ben studied each other with uncertainty and expectation. Leslie broke the awkward silence. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  His expression did not change, so she continued. “You know, about what you want.” There was still no reaction. She took a deep breath. “I need to tell you what I want...but, Ben...”

  When she did not immediately continue, he put his hands on her shoulders. She looked away from his eyes and stared at the top button of his shirt. The tears that had threatened earlier formed now, and she blinked hard to hold them back. “I want to tell you, but I...” Shaking her head, she whispered, “I want you. But I’m afraid...I’m afraid for you...and what I feel for you.” She bit her lip. “I can’t lose someone again.”

  Finally, he pulled her into his arms. His voice was a little hoarse when he said, “Leslie, it’s all right. It’ll be all right.” He closed his eyes and stroked her hair. “I’d do anything—anything—to keep from hurting you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. She rested in the embrace for a minute more before she raised her face to him. His kiss was gentle and loving, and she gave up trying to fight her emotions. Her hands clasped his neck, and she stood on her toes trying to get closer.

  It was Ben who finally ended the embrace. He lightly touched her forehead with his lips before stepping back. Leslie blinked, then wiped her damp eyes with one hand and said with a reticent smile, “Titus is going to wonder what’s going on.”

  He grinned. “Honey, Titus already knows what’s going on.”

  He walked her to the Jeep and opened the door. After she had settled into the seat, he leaned down and said quietly, “I’m leaving tomorrow and will be gone for a few days. I’ll stop by the clinic as soon as I can. Okay?”

  She responded with a sweet half smile and a nod as he closed the door, and Titus backed out. As they drove through the compound gate, she turned back. Ben stood watching the Jeep depart. During the drive home, Leslie recognized an expectancy she hadn’t known in ages. On reflection, she realized the feeling was hope. She was beginning to consider possibilities for the future—and, unexpectedly, the future appeared full of promise.

  * * *

  FIVE DAYS PAS
SED before Leslie saw Ben again. Early Tuesday morning the following week, she was packing supplies with Titus and Naomi to take into the countryside for a two-day trip holding immunization clinics. They would leave shortly, visiting three villages in the next day and a half. They planned to return Wednesday evening.

  As the trio loaded the Jeep, they observed a vehicle driving up the dirt road. Leslie recognized it as Ben’s, and she grew nervous in anticipation of seeing him again. But it quickly became evident that it was Simon, and he was going much too fast on the pothole-filled road.

  The Masai pulled through the gate and skidded to a stop, sending dirt and pebbles flying. Leslie’s nervousness turned to alarm when she saw his face and heard his words as he addressed Titus, all the while looking at her. Trying to understand, she caught enough of the dialogue to know something had happened to Ben. He spoke the English words “rifle” and “airplane,” and she recognized the Swahili words for “wound” and “blood.” She was overcome by a feeling of dread as she waited for Titus to translate.

  “Miss Leslie,” Titus said while Simon was still speaking, “Ben was shot by bandits when he landed this morning. Simon was on his way to the airport and heard the gunfire. Ben killed the bandits, but he was badly injured. Simon left him at his house because the ride from the airport made him bleed badly.”

  Leslie had heard enough. Acting quickly, she addressed Titus. “Take me and Naomi to Ben’s.” Fortunately, the supplies she would need were already in the car, as they always carried a full stock when they traveled in order to manage emergencies. She knew, however, they would need a better vehicle if they had to drive to Nairobi. “Tell Simon to go get Paul, and have him bring his Land Rover for transport.” In less than a minute, the two Jeeps sped off in opposite directions.

  Despite driving at a speed that threatened to disable the vehicle, the trip took a nerve-racking fifteen minutes. Leslie jumped out of the Jeep before it came to a complete stop, her bag of emergency supplies and equipment in hand. She ran across the short path and through the door but stopped short when she saw Ben lying on the cot against the far wall. His face was deathly pale, his eyes were closed, and his shirt and pants were covered with dark blood.

  “Oh, dear God!” she cried as she rushed to kneel by the bed. Trying not to panic, she touched his chest and waited for movement, then said a quick prayer when she felt it rise and fall. With that small reassurance, she began assessing the extent of his injuries. Within moments, fear threatened to overwhelm her as she realized how inadequately equipped she was to save his life.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BEN WAS BLEEDING to death. Leslie’s initial assessment revealed his breathing was rapid but not labored. She found one wound in his upper chest and one in his abdomen. The most urgent problem, however, was the damage to his right thigh. Evidently a bullet had entered anteriorly, then exited, leaving a gaping hole in the back of his leg. Fortunately it had missed his femur, but he was bleeding heavily. The cot below him was wet with blood, and an alarming amount had soaked through the canvas fabric and dripped onto the floor.

  With Naomi’s assistance, she cut away his pant leg. Acting quickly, she ripped the packaging off two large dressing pads and pressed them firmly over the wounds. “Hold these here—tight,” she directed Naomi. She opened two more pads and hurriedly rolled a bandage around his thigh to keep the cotton dressing securely in place, putting pressure on the wounds.

  She tore at the buttons holding his shirt, completely exposing his chest. The wound was high on his left side and was bleeding very little externally, which gave her a small measure of relief. With her stethoscope, she determined the breath sounds over his left side were diminished but present. Although this was reassuring, she knew there could be significant internal bleeding, and the lack of an exit wound meant the bullet was lodged in his chest. She hardly noticed that her hands and the front of her blouse were covered in blood, eerily reminiscent of the incident in Nairobi. She hurriedly placed a sterile dressing over the wound and directed Naomi to tape it into place.

  She next moved to examine the abdominal wound. There appeared to be minimal internal bleeding. The bowel, however, was sure to be involved, and if he did not have surgery to repair any nicks or holes, peritonitis would occur within a few hours. She had to get him to Nairobi.

  Titus stood by the door, unwilling to leave but not wanting to come closer. Anxiety covered his expressive face. Leslie shouted to him, “Go watch for Simon and Paul! Let me know when you see them!”

  She turned to Naomi and said, “Take his blood pressure.” As Naomi complied, Leslie grabbed infusion tubing and a liter bag of fluid from her supplies to start an intravenous line.

  “Eighty-four over forty-four.” Concern was clear in Naomi’s voice.

  “Damn...damn...” Leslie muttered as she turned the IV to run wide open, knowing that he needed fluid to avoid circulatory collapse. His pulse was rapid, and he was simultaneously sweating and shivering—all signs of hemorrhagic shock. The IV saline would help, but he needed blood. She lamented that she didn’t have a store of whole blood or plasma. If his transfer was delayed, she would have to devise a way to give him a person-to-person transfusion. She rummaged in her bag to locate her precious store of injectable antibiotics and added medication into the IV bag to try to forestall infection.

  Leslie looked around the room for something to raise Ben’s legs. She dragged a crate over, and she and Naomi were able to lift the foot of the cot to rest on it. Ben moaned in response to the movement of the small bed; it was the first sound she had heard him make.

  Leslie paused to wash the blood from her hands and dampen a towel, and then she cleaned Ben’s face, which was spotted with dirt. His eyes were still closed, and there were no other signs he was regaining consciousness.

  “Ben...Ben...” She managed to keep her voice calm. “Ben, can you hear me?” She talked to him quietly as they worked. “We’re here with you. You’re going to be okay.”

  He remained motionless. Frustrated and desperate to overcome her own sense of panic, Leslie was hugely relieved when Titus called her to the door and she saw a cloud of dust on the road. “Thank God,” she said out loud. She motioned for Naomi to join her. “Stay here and wait with Titus,” she insisted. “See if you can help them.”

  She returned to Ben. His normally sun-darkened face was ashen. She took his blood pressure again and was relieved it had not dropped. She checked the IV bag; half of the liter had been infused. She gave a small sigh—at least the volume of fluid circulating through his veins was better.

  She knelt beside him again and gently touched his brow and cheek. “Ben...Ben, can you hear me?”

  This time, he blinked and then opened his eyes. He frowned, and for a second he didn’t seem to recognize her. Then he blinked again. “Les? Leslie, what?...” His voice was low and hoarse. He licked his lips and tried to swallow.

  Weakly, he reached out for her, and she clasped his hand tightly with both of hers. Her voice cracked. “S-Simon told us that someone, uh...ambushed you this morning at the airfield. He, uh...he said that you killed the attackers. He brought you here and came to get me.” She struggled to blink back tears. “I sent Simon to get Paul. They’re nearly here.” She squeezed his hand. “We’re going to come up with a way to get you to Nairobi.”

  He nodded slightly and then tried to swallow again. The green eyes did not leave her face. He whispered, “I’m thirsty. Can I have something to drink?”

  “Okay, but just a couple of swallows. You have an abdominal wound, and you need surgery. Drinking a lot could make it worse.” She poured a small amount of sterile water into a clean cup and held it to his lips. She stroked his hair while he sipped. “That’ll help a little.”

  He nodded his head and she removed the cup. “How do you feel?”

  “It hurts,” he answered. Pain etched his face.

  “O
kay.” She nodded. “I have some morphine. I’ll get my bag.”

  He stopped her as she started to move away. “No, not yet. I need to talk to Paul.” He closed his eyes tightly and winced as a wave of pain speared through him. She clasped his hand, holding it until the spasm passed. A moment later he looked back at her. “I need to be able to think... I have to stay awake....”

  Leslie shook her head, hating to see him in pain. “I can give you a little. Just enough to take the edge off.”

  He swallowed again. “Not now...later. I need to talk to Paul.”

  She nodded in acquiescence. “Okay...but let me know when you want anything.” She watched him closely, still holding his hand, desperately wishing there was more she could do.

  Despite his pain, he pulled their clasped hands forward and kissed her fingers. Although his eyes were clear and steady as they held hers, his words were barely audible. “I love you.”

  Tears streamed down her face, but she managed a weak smile. She leaned forward and gently touched his lips with hers. “I know,” she whispered. “I love you, too.” She kissed his forehead before she sat back.

  His eyes caught hers again. “Leslie, I need to tell you—” His words were cut off by another wave of pain arising from his abdomen. He clenched his teeth and grimaced. The spasm left him breathless.

  She held his hand until it passed. In a tone that was meant to convince them both, she said, “We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. Right now, just rest.”

  From her spot at the door, Naomi motioned to her, indicating that the men were near.

  “Thank God!” she whispered as she heard the sound of gravel flying and a door slam.

  Only seconds later Paul entered. He was alarmed when he saw Ben, but he managed to disguise it. “How’re you doing, Ben?” His voice was almost casual as he knelt beside the cot, much as Leslie had done.