My Image of You

by Melanie Moreland

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Adam.” She turned away. “I’m so sorry.” Her next words hit me like a Mack truck. “You’re leaving and I’m so afraid you won’t come back.”

  I caught her, spinning her and dragging her into my arms, now understanding. Her anxiety was palpable. She was near her breaking point with all of this. With me. My own trepidation increased. I couldn’t lose her. We were so close to the end of these long separations.

  “I know, Ally. I understand,” I soothed. “It’s almost done. I need you to be strong for a little while longer. Don’t give up on me. You can do this. One last time. For me, please?”

  Her fists gripped my shirt, her voice desperate. “You promise?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded, her head resting on my chest. “I won’t see Bradley. I was just being a bitch.”

  “You’re never a bitch,” I assured her, feeling relieved. “You’re not yourself, but I understand, baby. I really do.”

  “Okay,” she replied. “We need to get you packed.”

  I pressed my lips to her head. “That’s my girl.”

  —

  She didn’t hide her tears when I left. They ran down her face unheeded as we stood by the car. The harsh words we’d exchanged still hung between us. I wanted to leave on a good note—I had to see her smile before I left. I wrapped my arms around her.

  “Your ring will be ready this week. You can go pick it up. Show it off.”

  She nodded into my chest, tilting her head back and offering me a watery smile.

  “Take a picture of it and send it to me. Let me see it on your finger.”

  After Elena died, Ally tucked her ring away, too sad to think about it. Finally, I had pulled it out and taken her with me to see about having it sized. It was time to move on. The rose gold and the intricate pattern on the ring made it a job for a true artist to size it down to fit her tiny finger, and it took longer than we expected. The jeweler located on the main floor of my building had found the same antique rose gold and been occupied on the careful work to make it flawless. We had been waiting for it to be done. Now I wanted it on her finger.

  “I added something,” I whispered to her.

  “What?”

  “An inscription.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Always. Forever. Yours.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.” I kissed her damp cheek. “A fight doesn’t change that, Nightingale.”

  “Adam!” I looked around to see Chris heading toward us. “You ready to go, man? I’ve been waiting!”

  I stifled a curse, knowing my time with Ally was done. I wanted to be make sure she knew we were going to be fine. But more than that, I needed to know she was going to be fine.

  She leaned up, brushing my cheek with her lips. “I’ll pick up my ring, but I’m waiting until you come home to wear it. I want you to put it on my finger.”

  I slid my hand up her neck and pulled her to me, crashing my mouth to hers. I kissed her with everything I had. Hard, deep, and filled with words we didn’t have time to exchange. I moved back, breathing hard, my chest tight. “Once I put it on, you can’t ever take it off again.”

  “Come home safe to me.”

  I nodded. “Always.”

  She stepped away. I grabbed my bags, backing from her slowly. It took everything in me to turn and walk away from her. It still felt as though things were unresolved, even with her sweet words of farewell. I turned back to say something to her, surprised to see she was already moving toward me. I dropped my bags and caught her in my arms.

  “This is the last time I leave you. I promise.”

  She nodded and released the grip she had on my neck. I lowered her to her feet, cupping her cheek.

  “Come on, Adam!” Chris yelled.

  I picked up my bags again, never breaking eye contact with her.

  “I’ll be here,” she vowed shakily.

  I held on to those words as I boarded a plane to Africa, once again leaving her behind.

  Chapter 17

  Weeks later, my head fell back against the torn material of the headrest, my body jarring and shifting as the Jeep hurtled down the torn-up road toward the small airstrip in Central Africa. I ached all over, my body thin and weak. My tattered clothes were covered in stains of dirt, blood, and all manner of fluids. I was beyond exhausted, and after what I’d witnessed and been through the last while, it felt as though every nerve in my body was sitting on my skin, burning and humming with anxiety. My thumb repeatedly traced over the screen of my iPhone, the battery long since dead. There had been no point in plugging it in. The generator was needed for other things, and we had no cellular reception.

  Two more hours.

  Two more hours I’d be in a small plane that would take me back to something resembling civilization. A few hours after that, I could plug in my phone and let it charge.

  But most important, I would use the landline at the hotel and call my Nightingale.

  I hadn’t heard her voice in what felt like forever, even if it was only a few weeks.

  I shut my eyes as my chest swelled with longing to hear her voice.

  Even if she was still upset with me, I needed to hear her voice.

  She would calm me, help me find my center, and regain enough strength to get home.

  To her.

  Because where she was—that was home. Then I would never leave her again. I never should have left her this time.

  I glanced down at my phone again, wondered if, when it came to life, it would be filled with her sweet messages of love.

  Or if she was upset enough, it would be empty.

  I prayed it was the former.

  A deep shuddering exhale of air escaped my lungs.

  I needed it to be the former.

  —

  Flying low over the country, I was shocked at the devastation below us. None of the news reports had shown the true massive destruction the wildfires had caused. Tommy was going ahead with Larry, the journalist, to the clinic, and after we separated, Chris and I hit the ground running, constantly moving as we filled memory cards with the horrific photographs. Our guide was amazing, taking us places most people would never see. Image after image filled my camera of destroyed villages, dead and displaced animals, and land that would take years and years to regrow and replenish. By the time I was shaking Chris’s hand goodbye, I was drained. He would now finish on his own, while I headed farther inland to meet up with Larry and Tommy and finish this assignment. Chris would be home before I would, and I made him promise to call Ally and tell her I was fine. I had only gotten one brief message to her and I knew she would worry. Larry had the satellite phone so I could use that to contact her. He also had most of my clothes and other items—Chris and I only had the essentials with us so we could move fast.

  “Good luck, Adam.”

  “You, too. I’m not around to pull you away from a crumbling precipice, so be careful.”

  He grinned widely. “But what a fucking shot I got—am I right?”

  I shook my head. Ten years ago, I would have said the same thing. I snorted—ten months ago, I would have said it, as well.

  I climbed into the Jeep with my new guide, waving Chris off. I still had a long journey, both by Jeep and by plane to get where I was going.

  I thought about Ally the whole time.

  Nothing prepared me for what I walked into. A village close to the clinic had fallen victim to the fires, and now the clinic was filled with the wounded and dying. In the blink of an eye, I became a medic, tamping down my revulsion of blood and doing what I could. Dr. Conrad and his wife worked tirelessly, Larry and Tommy pitching in, as well. I dressed wounds, cleaned cuts and gashes, washed and tended burns. Peter, as he insisted I call him, and his wife, Edwina, handled the far worse cases. For two days, I did nothing but work, until finally, there was no one left to help—at least for the moment. As I sat surveying the wounded, watching families cry and mourn their dead, and
the fires still raging, I realized I was in far graver danger than I had ever exposed myself to in the past. I would have to work harder than ever to keep my promise to my girl.

  When I finally got to hear Ally’s voice and told her what had happened, she immediately realized the serious situation I was in.

  “Come home,” she pleaded through the very bad connection. I covered my ear in a vain attempt to hear her better. All around me, a storm was bearing down on us, the rain and thunder moving in rapidly, almost drowning out the sound of her voice. Every room in the building was full, so I had come outside to call her, desperate to hear her voice. I paced up and down the riverbank, wishing, more than ever I was on my way home to her.

  “Soon.”

  I could hear the tears of worry in her voice. “What if the fires spread and the clinic is caught?”

  “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

  “You can’t say that, Adam! You don’t know what will happen!”

  “The fires are starting to burn out—it’s raining right now. It’ll be okay,” I soothed, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want her angry again, and now I’d added to her stress. The fires had come dangerously close to here, but we were sure the hazard was past now. The sound of the heavy rain approaching was a welcome relief to us all.

  “I want you home.”

  “As soon as this is done.”

  “No,” she sobbed. “Now. I can’t lose you.”

  “You won’t—”

  “Don’t make me promises you can’t keep!” she yelled. “You’re not safe there!”

  I pulled on my neck in frustration. “Ally, I’m—”

  A scream behind me, the sudden rush of footsteps, and a small body crashing into my legs startled me so bad I swung around, causing the phone to fly from my hand, arcing high and landing in the swirling, rushing water.

  I cursed, shouting profanities into the air, wading into the water, though I knew I would never recover the phone.

  Peter’s equipment had died only days before we arrived. I stared at the murky water, realizing what I had done.

  I’d lost our satellite, and now I had no way to get hold of her. None of our cellphones worked here.

  Time passed in a haze of activities. I was a part-time medic as more people showed up from other places affected by the fires; I worked with Peter on the story, photographing him working and interacting with the people who adored the “white healer,” as he was known. With his snow-white hair and quiet demeanor, he was a calming presence, no matter what was occurring. His wife was a small, sturdy woman, with dark, flashing eyes and a no-nonsense attitude that was a cover for a gentle, empathetic heart. They gave everything they had to their cause. I pitched in and helped repair broken items, roofs, anything that had been damaged by the huge storms and subsequent wildfires that were ignited by the violent lightning. I helped Edwina with the children, my heart breaking at the sadness I witnessed daily. It was nonstop.

  Seeing the desperate need, I sent Tommy with the guide to the closest center to get what supplies he could. I also gave him my information to contact my business manager, John, so he could have more supplies purchased and shipped here. He was gone for three days. When he got back, he told me he had left messages on Ally’s cellphone, explaining about the satellite and that we were fine. He also spoke with Sean, who promised to try and get in touch with her. It was the best I could do, although I hated that he hadn’t spoken to her directly. He had been unable to purchase another satellite phone, and I still had no way to contact her.

  Peter and I talked at length over our shared passion of photography. He showed me his work and I praised his eye for detail. He admitted to missing the chances for taking photos, but he and Edwina were committed to being here and making a difference in the lives of these people.

  The story Larry was writing would be powerful and moving, and I hoped it meant help for Peter’s work. The pictures I had taken would add so much to it. I swore I would do whatever it took to bring attention to him and this place. I had quickly become fond of him and his wife, admiring their strength and generous, loving spirit. I promised more supplies would be shipped as soon as I could make the arrangements back home.

  Then I became ill, which pushed back our leaving. A cut I ignored became infected, and I fell, ravaged with a fever that wracked my body for days, leaving me weak and unable to travel. Larry and Tommy stayed, refusing to leave without me. Peter wasn’t happy when I insisted on departing before he felt I was ready, but I needed to get home. I needed to get to Ally.

  I shook Peter’s hand and hugged Edwina.

  Then I got into the Jeep and headed toward home, allowing the part of me I’d kept at bay to leak out. I had missed her so much. My body shook with the force of my need.

  I needed to get to her.

  —

  The room was small and sparse. A bed, a chair, and a small dresser. The bathroom had a shower, a chipped sink, and a toilet. The towels were thin and rough.

  After the past few weeks, it was a palace.

  I dropped my bag and gear and took a much-needed shower. The phone in the lobby was busy so I’d have to wait anyway. I found the charger and plugged in my phone.

  The shower was small, but the water was hot and felt great on my tense shoulders. Days of dirt and pain rolled off my skin. There was no shampoo, but the hard soap was fine on my hair. At least it was clean. I had buzzed it off two days after we arrived, and it was beginning to grow back. I didn’t bother shaving.

  I dug through my bag, finding the one semi-clean set of clothes I had left in the bottom. I pulled them on, not caring how wrinkled they were. I wasn’t flying out until the morning, so I decided I’d find another pair of shorts and a shirt in one of the small shops and then throw out the rest of what I had left. I’d given most of it away to people in desperate need, so my bag was almost empty.

  Downstairs the phone was still in use. Larry was sitting, waiting for his turn, and I sat with him. Neither of us spoke much other than to confirm we were flying out at dawn, and as soon as we arrived in Kenya, he’d book us seats on the first flight home.

  “We’ll probably have to stay the night in Nairobi and fly home the next day.”

  I nodded. As long as we were on the way back, and I could talk to Ally soon, I could hang on.

  “You okay, Adam?”

  I looked up, not realizing I’d been grabbing at the legs of my shorts, twisting the material. I relaxed my hands, flexing them. “Yeah. It’s been rough.”

  “I know. I’m taking some time off once this is done.”

  Words I never thought I’d say came out of my mouth. “I’m done. For good.”

  I wasn’t going to only think about changing my career. I was giving it up immediately. Ally would be happy to hear that. I would never leave her behind again.

  —

  When I finally got to the phone, the line just rang and rang. When her voicemail picked up, it was an automated greeting, so I didn’t get to hear her voice. I frowned, wondering when she changed that. I called her home line, becoming more confused when a recording came on, saying the number was no longer in service. I hung up, redialing, convinced in my exhaustion I’d dialed incorrectly, but I got the same recording. I tried the cell number again, but the automated voice picked up. This time I left a brief message, telling her I was safe, on the way home, and to please call my cell. I paused before adding, “I love you, Ally. Please, please call me.”

  We waited for Tommy and went out, seeking food. I wasn’t overly hungry, but I knew I needed to eat. When we arrived back at the hotel, I headed upstairs, hoping the charge would be restored and there’d be a message from Ally.

  The screen came to life and I scrolled through the messages, past the ones from John, and various other people, frowning at the lack of ones from Ally. I finally found four and hit the earliest one first.

  It was short.

  I’m sorry. I love you. Please be safe.

  I shook my head. Was s
he still apologizing for the fight we had before I left? Or the phone call? I was the one who owed her an apology.

  The next one made me frown.

  This is too hard. I didn’t mean to yell—I was just so scared. Why did you hang up? I don’t know where you are or when you’re coming back.

  My head dropped. She thought I’d hung up on her and hadn’t called her back. I needed to get hold of her fast. The third one made my worry increase.

  I need you. Where are you? Please tell me you’re safe. Just tell me that.

  There was a time lapse leading to the fourth one. Over ten days. It made me fall to my knees as my legs buckled under me.

  I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t the life I want. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to see you again. Don’t contact me—it’s over. Leave me alone, Adam. Move on with your life. I plan on doing the same. I wish you the best—be happy.

  —

  The plane touched down, gliding to the gate. I let everyone go ahead of me since I wasn’t in any rush. I was completely calm as I gathered my bags and headed for the door. I hailed a cab after refusing Larry’s offer of a lift home. I was motionless in the car, not speaking at all.

  I walked into the loft, feeling detached. It was dusty and unused.

  Ally wasn’t here.

  I didn’t bother picking up my phone to check. I’d done that from the road several times. There were no missed calls from her. No other texts.

  When someone finally answered the cellphone, it wasn’t Ally. They’d only gotten that number a few days prior, they explained. They had no idea who Ally was.

  Waiting for our flight home, I called the hospital. It took several attempts before I was finally able to get Vivian on the line. She was sad when she told me Ally had quit abruptly. Her attempts to reach her had failed, as well.

  I looked around the loft, realizing she must have been here at some point. Her shoes were missing from the floor. Her sweater that always hung by the door was gone. Walking around, I saw all her things were gone. I noticed a small item on the edge of my desk, and walking over, I picked it up, my hand shaking.