Gladioli in August

by Clare Revell

  Jael winked. “Yup. Lovely. Are we walking? Although if you’re tired, we can take a raincheck.”

  “Not too tired to spend time with you. I was going to drive.”

  “It’s a lovely evening and it isn’t far. Let’s walk. We’ve been sitting in a plane most of the day.”

  “Sure.” He folded his jacket over his arm and walked with her. His hand hung inches from hers. “Have you been into town yet?”

  “Only to the post office. I keep meaning to go, but never get there.”

  “You should. And definitely see the church while you’re there. It’s one of the oldest buildings in Achor. The stained glass window and view from the top of the tower are worth it just for themselves, never mind the history lesson you’ll get from Father Andreas.”

  “After we eat,” she said. “I’m starving.”

  Micah grinned. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t skip meals.”

  “I was making sure someone else didn’t pass out on me.”

  “Beside the point. It isn’t do what I say not do what I do. You medics are meant to lead by example.”

  “Then I shall bear that in mind tomorrow on another scintillatingly exciting day of dressing changes.”

  Micah opened the door to the town’s only restaurant. “It isn’t much, but they make sure you have a good time.”

  “Micah…” Rosita came running over to him, speaking fast Tiampian.

  As always, he managed to catch most of what she said as she hugged him, but even though he was fluent, Rosita always went too fast even for him. “Yeah, I’m good. This is Jael, the new nurse. She doesn’t speak Tiampian.”

  Rosita switched to English. “There has been much talk of you.”

  “Good or bad?” Jael asked, covering her embarrassment.

  “All good. Come, sit.”

  Micah rested his hand on Jael’s back as they followed Rosita across the room to the best table. He wasn’t sure what they’d done to deserve this but wasn’t going to argue. He pulled a chair out for Jael, then sat opposite.

  “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Something cold,” Jael said.

  “I get you some wine,” Rosita said, turning to leave.

  “Just iced water,” Micah said quickly. “For both of us, please.”

  Jael raised an eyebrow. “Water?”

  “Bottled and it comes sealed,” he explained. “Although you’re gonna have to drink the water at some point.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps.”

  He tilted his head. The light caught her eyes, making them sparkle. He’d always thought they were blue, but in this light they appeared almost green. And were those pearls in her ears? Why hadn’t he noticed them before now? She looked so different with her hair down, compared to the severe way she pulled it back and fastened it up when she was working.

  How could he not have noticed how pretty she was before now?

  Easy—he’d never allowed himself to think of her as a woman until now. Never allowed himself to see her as anything other than a nuisance and a colleague.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Me?” He shook himself. She’d think him a right idiot if he kept this up. She’d declare him away with the fairies or something.

  “Yeah, you spaced out again.”

  He shoved his glasses back upon his nose. “I was wondering what a beautiful woman like you was doing here with a down-trodden, lowlife—”

  “Handsome, talented pilot like you,” she finished.

  Micah frowned.

  Jael pressed her fingertips to the tip of her nose and studied him over the top of them, her intense gaze making him shift uncomfortably. “You really don’t have a very high opinion of yourself, do you? I reckon you hide behind that arrogance of yours.”

  “You know why,” he said, immediately putting up the shields and going on the defensive. “It’s better that way.” He cleared his throat as the waiter appeared with their drinks. He handed the menu over. “Chicken all right with you, Jael?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  Micah ordered rapidly for the two of them. As the waiter left he broke the seal on his bottle of water. “You really should start speaking the local dialect. I could teach you if you like.”

  “That would be great, thanks.” She opened her bottle. “So who else is at home?”

  “No one. Mum died years ago. This is home now. I haven’t been back to England in years. Rach, that’s my sister, lives in Detroit…oh, must be six or seven years now. She met an American through work and moved over there. I don’t see her much.”

  “Was she…” Jael broke off.

  Micah read between the lines. “No, he never touched her. I made sure of that.” He sipped his water. “She’s in finance. Or she was before the kids came along. They have six and one on the way.”

  Jael’s eyes widened. “Six kids in six years?”

  Micah chuckled. “Three sets of twins.”

  “What about you?”

  “No husband and no kids.” He winked.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She laughed. “Do you want them?”

  “A husband or kids? I’ve always said never to the husband, actually.” He shook his head and laughed with her. For some reason discussing this with her was easy. But then she knew the worst about him and she was still here. But now she’d brought up the subject of marriage, why did part of him long for something he’d always said no to? “Seriously, wife and kids have never been part of my game plan. For a start no one would ever want me.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “I’m proud, arrogant, selfish, and opinionated. I carry too much baggage.” He ticked off on his fingers as he listed the reasons. “Besides, there is no guarantee I’m not going to turn out like my father.”

  “You forget stubborn.”

  He straightened in his seat, not expecting that one. “I’m sorry?”

  “If you’re going to list all your faults you forgot a couple. You’re stubborn and you snore. I can hear you through the walls every single night. Sometimes I think I should use a tent peg on you just to get a peaceful night’s sleep.” But she laughed and leaned back as the food arrived. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “Smells good.”

  Micah said grace and picked up his knife and fork. He wasn’t at all sure how to take her last comment. “OK,” he said quietly. “And stubborn. But I’m not admitting to the snoring unless you have proof. You could be making it up.” He pointed his fork across the table. “And no, you cannot sneak into my room tonight and video me on your phone to prove it.”

  Jael clicked her fingers. “Darn.” She picked up her fork. “You know what I see when I look at you?”

  “What?” he asked, not at all sure he wanted to know. Just in case her list was worse than the one he’d compiled himself.

  “A survivor. A brave man. You have eyes that reflect the tiniest piece of emotion within you. I see someone who isn’t afraid to let his emotions show, even if that is grumpy most of the time.”

  “Grumpy?”

  “Especially on very little sleep. I also see someone who throws himself into work wholeheartedly, and has an amazing love for God. He also has hair my brother would love to get his hands on.”

  “What?” Micah choked on his chicken, coughing and gasping for breath.

  Jael leapt to her feet and rounded the table, thumping him on the back to dislodge the food stuck in his throat. “Kyle’s a hairdresser. One of the top UK stylists.”

  Micah grabbed his water and chugged it rapidly, still coughing.

  “You OK?” As he nodded, she returned to her seat. “So, all in all, I see a good looking, talented, single bloke, who seems to have taken himself off the market for no reason other than doubt in his own ability to love anyone because he has a major trust issue.”

  Micah looked at her.

  “How am I doing?”

  “Pretty close,” he admitted. Actually closer than he was ever going to
let her know.

  “Only it isn’t other people you need to trust, but yourself.”

  “Easier said than done,” he muttered.

  She reached across the table and took his hand. “You’re not your father, Micah. You don’t have it in you to hurt others the way you were hurt.”

  “How can you be so sure?” he asked. “I mean, I doubt myself and you don’t really know me the way I do.”

  Her gaze seemed to bore into him, hold him, the same way his father’s used to, but not the same. There was no fear. She knew about all there was to know about him, and she was still here. Holding his hand.

  “I know all I need to know,” she said. “Did you call him?”

  Was she telepathic too? She seemed to know what he was thinking almost before he did, she was so in synch with him.

  “I e-mailed him and said I’d call before I went to bed. He’ll be up by then with the time difference.”

  “But you are going to?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I need to do this. I want to move on and even if he won’t listen to me or apologize—and I know he won’t—I can tell him I’ve forgiven him, and then I can make a new start.”

  With you, he added silently. Because that’s what he wanted. The ice around him was cracking as surely as if Jael had taken a pick axe to it. Or a tent peg.

  The floor moved. The bottle on the table shifted, and he caught it just as it was about to topple.

  Jael grabbed the table edge. “Another quake?”

  “Probably an aftershock.” Dust fell from the lampshade shaking above their heads.

  “Refreshing, but I guess we’ll get them for days.” She put her fork down. “Can we go and see the church on the way home?”

  The water in the bottle moved again. “Did you feel that?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He glanced over at her. “We should go.” He pulled his wallet out and put cash on the table to pay for the food.

  “Micah?”

  “I have a bad feeling about this. Come on.” He stood and took her hand. “We’ll see the church another day.”

  The table rose and fell in small motions just before a larger and more disruptive side to side sheering began. The ground beneath them rose and fell as the floor bucked up and down. Around them people screamed and debris fell.

  Micah reached for Jael’s hand, wondering if the panic on her face was mimicked on his own. “Get under the table.” He pulled her to the floor and pushed her underneath the wooden table.

  “Micah?” She scooted to make room for him.

  He held her securely, as falling bits of the ceiling showered the table above them. A crack opened in the floor next to them. Micah pulled her out from under the table, dragging Jael to the door, one arm above his head to protect himself from the debris.

  He shoved her against the doorframe, shielding her with his body, holding her in place as he prayed for protection.

  6

  Jael clung to Micah, terrified as the shaking went on for what seemed like hours. A loud rumble filled the air, groans, crashes, and screams mixed and vied for attention. Finally, it stopped and the ground movement ceased.

  Micah sucked in a deep breath. “It’s over. Are you all right?”

  Jael couldn’t answer, terror still rampaging through her.

  His hand cupped her face. “Jael?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She managed a slight smile. “I can cross earthquake off my bucket list now.”

  He frowned. “Aren’t you too young for a bucket list? And why would you want to put an earthquake on it anyway?”

  She shrugged, her sarcasm obviously lost somewhere in the rubble.

  Micah glanced around. “There are people hurt. Are you OK to go help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He kissed her cheek and moved over to a table to the right of them. Setting it upright, he began to free people from the wreckage of the building.

  One of the waiters produced a first aid kit and Jael snapped into work mode. She began to triage, patching cuts and bandaging with whatever she could find, tearing the tablecloths into strips. All around her was none of the chaos and noise she’d expected, just a quiet determination to help each other.

  Micah came over. “Danny’s here with the truck. They need me to fly a couple of the more seriously injured to the hospital on Bantu. It’s an hour away.”

  Jael glanced up. She hadn’t realized how dark it now was. Lanterns had been hung on whatever people could find to aid the failing daylight. “OK.”

  “I can’t leave you here.”

  “Sure you can. They need me.”

  “Jael, be reasonable. It’s almost dark now and…”

  “And there are still injured people that need treating here. I’ll be fine. Nothing is going to happen. You can always send someone back for me if need be, but it’s only a ten-minute walk. Go, fly, do your thing and let me do mine.”

  He pulled her to her feet, his piercing gaze boring into her. “Are you crazy, woman?”

  She winked, trying to take his mind off worrying over her. “Isn’t that why you like me?”

  Micah wrapped his arms around her, his lips touching hers in a mind-blowing kiss she wasn’t expecting.

  Whoa! Her heart almost leapt from her chest as the blood pounded in her veins. His lips, gentle and tender, at the same time managed to convey a whole slew of emotion and sent her already taut nerves into overdrive.

  She looped her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. This seemed to encourage him, and he deepened the kiss before slowly and almost reluctantly pulling back.

  As he broke off, she held his gaze. “Go.”

  “Under protest at leaving you here alone.” He put his forehead to hers.

  “Protest noted.”

  He brushed his lips against hers. “Take care. I want to see you back at base. I don’t want to hear of your untimely death at the hands of some opportunist looter, honey.”

  She tilted her head. “Honey? Are we seriously back to this again?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, because this time I mean it. Honey is sweet, like you. And because I like it, like I like you and…”

  “And that’s way too many likes in one sentence,” she laughed.

  He shook his head. “And one kiss is nowhere near enough.”

  “Micah, we’re losing the rest of the light.” Danny’s irate shout came from the doorway.

  “Better go.”

  “Yes, you had.” Yet she didn’t want to let go of him. She watched for as long as she could as he clambered over rubble to where Danny stood. Then she turned back to her work, hearing the truck move slowly away.

  As she worked, she prayed for Micah to be safe as he flew, and for the disaster to be over now. She’d had enough of quakes to last a life time. As a plane flew overhead, she glanced at her watch. He should be back in three hours, including loading, unloading and so on. But a lot could happen in those three hours.

  She pulled out her phone, but there was no signal. Not really surprising under the circumstances. She stood, a cramp ripping through her leg as she changed position. She cried out, bent, and gripped her leg tightly.

  A man wearing a military jacket climbed over the debris and picked her up, carrying her into the chill night air. He set her down and moving her hands, gently massaged her calf until the pain eased. “Better now?” he asked in broken English.

  “Yes, thank you.” She nodded and smiled.

  He nodded to her arm band. “Nurse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then come, we need you.” He led her onto the street and pointed to the church. “Many hurt in there.”

  Jael clambered over more obstacles towards the church. A truck pulled up in front of her as she reached the road.

  “Get in.” Danny sounded even more stressed than usual.

  “I can’t. I’m needed in the church…”

  “We need you back on the base. We have more injured there than we can cou
nt and more coming in by the hour.” He grabbed her arm, pulling her bodily into the truck. “Who said they needed you?”

  “That soldier…”

  “That’s no soldier.” Danny shoved the truck into gear and drove away, leaving dust behind them. “The streets aren’t safe for a woman alone.”

  “Oh.” She leaned back in the seat, gripping the handle bar tightly as another tremor hit. The truck bounced over the road as already damaged buildings fell to the ground around them. “Is the base going to stay standing?”

  “I hope so,” Danny said. “This feels like a two.”

  “What was the big one?”

  “A five point nine and we weren’t the epicenter either. There’s a tsunami warning in effect, but it’s not headed our way.”

  “Is Micah back?”

  “Not yet. He’s run into a few problems. He’ll be back at first light. I hope.”

  ****

  Micah slumped in the cockpit of the plane, hat over his eyes, trying to grab forty winks. Being grounded on Bantu wasn’t his idea of fun, especially when there was an emergency on, but arguing with ATC wasn’t getting him anywhere. He really didn’t give two hoots about this important passenger he had to wait for. So, he was going to sit in his plane on the tarmac and sleep. And nothing and no one was going to stop him.

  By his count there had been another five tremors overnight, each smaller than before. He jerked awake as someone thumped on the side of the plane.

  “That you, Micah?”

  “Kevin,” he groaned. He struggled to his feet and opened the door, almost dropping it on Kevin’s toes. “Aren’t you in quarantine?”

  “Only until tomorrow, but I figured you’d need me on Tiampu. How is it?”

  “A mess. And don’t tell me you’re the important person I’ve been stuck here over seven hours waiting for.”

  “OK, then I won’t. Let me on board, there’s a good chap, and we can go somewhere we can do some good.”

  Micah raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a spiffing plan,” he replied. He stood to one side and let Kevin board.

  “What about my boxes?” Kevin demanded.

  “No time,” Micah replied as he shut the door. “I’ve wasted enough waiting here for you.” He picked up the radio. “This is November niner-niner-zulu requesting take off clearance, over.”