by Lisa Bingham
Shivering despite the heat, Glory Bee knelt in the cover of bamboo and vines, pulling Luis tightly into her arms.
He rubbed at his eyes and rested his cheek against her shoulder. His body shook with exhaustion. Although he’d done only a little walking—spending most of the time on his father’s wide shoulders—it was clear that he too was at the end of his endurance.
“Shh, shh,” Glory Bee whispered against his hair, meeting Maria’s wide, worried stare as the woman gathered the other children close.
Not for the first time, Glory Bee found her eyes straying to Maria’s pregnant form. If Glory Bee’s weariness was nearly overwhelming, what must it be like for Maria? Esteban had said the baby was due in less than a month. Surely, this headlong rush into the forest couldn’t be healthy for the woman.
But what else could she do? She couldn’t stay behind. Just like Glory Bee, she was fleeing for her life.
Glory Bee’s eyes closed and she shook her head. How had things come to this point? How had a relaxing few weeks in the tropics disintegrated into a hellish journey of fear? And how much more would they be required to do before finding safety?
Her arms wrapped around Luis more tightly and she rocked him, feeling him sag against her. To their credit, all of the children sensed how important it was to remain as quiet as possible while John and Esteban crept toward the first hut.
Peering over the foliage, Glory Bee watched as John lifted aside a length of cloth being used as a makeshift door, then dropped it, shaking his head. They moved on to the next domicile, then the next and the next, until it became clear that the village had been deserted.
Glory Bee felt a prickling at her nape as she wondered what had happened to the inhabitants. Had the Japanese skirted around the mountain somehow and arrived here first? Or had the villagers, warned by the scent of smoke in the air, moved further into the forest?
As they returned, John and Esteban were far less cautious, but they maintained their grip on their weapons.
“We’ll stay here for the night as planned,” John said as he approached.
“Where has everyone gone?” Glory Bee asked, even though she knew the question was useless.
“There’s no sign of violence or any other indication of the Japanese. I suppose they’ve moved on to a safer spot.”
“Are you sure we should stay here? I-I mean, they left for a reason.”
John touched her arm reassuringly. “We’ll be fine. Esteban and I will take turns guarding the area. The children can’t go on any farther.”
Unspoken was the fact that Glory Bee and Maria were in no better shape than the kids, so despite her misgivings, she trudged along behind the men as they led the way back to the well.
The cargadores settled their packs onto the ground and moved to begin drawing water up to refill their canteens, while Maria sent the older children looking for any bottles or buckets that might have been left behind.
Glory Bee moved to the suitcases, which still held their supply of food. She might be a detriment on the trail, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t contribute something.
Since they couldn’t light a cooking fire for fear of the smoke being seen over the ridge, she laid out a small buffet of SPAM, pork and beans, and fruit cocktail. Her stomach lurched a little at eating the meat cold, but she knew that she would need all the strength she could get, so after everyone had gathered a portion, she sat down on a rock and forced herself to begin.
In the end, she needn’t have worried. Her body was so tired and hungry she wolfed most of the food down within a matter of minutes, slowing only when she got to the fruit and decided she would savor the last few bites.
John sat down next to her, eating the remains of the pork and beans directly from the can. “You and I will be taking that hut right there.” He gestured to the one closest to the well. “Esteban and his family are taking the larger one next to us.”
“What about the cargadores?”
He sighed, looking at the clump of men who huddled in a knot a few yards away. “They’re frightened by the empty village. I told them they could sleep in the forest if they’d like and return at first light.” He shrugged. “But they may decide to abandon us altogether.”
“What will we do if they leave?”
“We’ll carry what we can and bury the rest. We can always come back for the supplies.”
“Provided the Japanese haven’t taken up residence.”
He nodded curtly. “But there’s no sense borrowing trouble. Right now, we all need a good night’s sleep, and this place is better than most.” He gestured to her plate. “Finish up, then you’d better turn in. I’ll see if I can’t find something for your sunburn, but I’ll wait until you’ve had time to wash up first.”
Glory Bee did as she was told, rinsing off her utensils before putting them back into her rucksack. Then, grabbing her things and a pail of water, she headed into the first hut.
Overall, it wasn’t a bad place to spend the night. The structure had a packed earthen floor and bamboo walls with a bamboo shelf, which had probably once held a mattress for sleeping. Laying her rucksack on the ground, she spread a blanket over the bamboo shelf before sitting wearily. If she hadn’t known that John would be joining her soon, she would have stretched out and gone straight to sleep. But unsure of how much time he meant to give her, she untied her shoes and peeled off her socks, wincing when she pulled at the raw blisters that had formed on her heels and toes. Standing, she stripped off her clothes until she was clad in only her bra and panties, then turned her back to the door. Using the pail, she washed quickly, hissing as the water hit the fiery skin of her arms and face. Since she was usually so careful with her skin, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so sunburned.
Although it seemed a bit incongruous considering her surroundings, she removed her underthings and pulled on the embroidered cotton nightgown she’d worn the first night to the Philippines. After using the last of the water to rinse out her clothes, she draped them over the windowsill to dry.
She was settling onto the blanket again when John called out, “Glory Bee? May I come in?”
“Yes.”
John slid through the curtain carrying a small bottle filled with a bright blue liquid.
“What’s that?” she asked with a frown.
“After shave.”
When her brows rose, he hastened to add, “One of the main ingredients is witch hazel. It should help with your sunburn.”
At the moment, her face and arms radiated with their own inner furnace and the pain was building, so she nodded. She was game for anything at this point.
John took a seat on the bench beside her and unscrewed the cap.
“Good lord, I’m going to smell like a barber shop on Saturday night.”
John chuckled, and again, she was struck by the way she clung to that sound like a miser gathering gold.
“Maybe it will keep the mosquitoes away.”
She only grunted.
John poured some of the liquid in his palm, then handed her the bottle. After rubbing his hands together, he began to smooth the aftershave over her skin.
She hissed, the pressure of his calloused hands enough to cause a stinging pain. But as the witch hazel sank into her pores, she felt a small twinge of relief.
“Good?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He poured more of the bright blue liquid in his palms, then began to work on the back of her neck and shoulders.
And suddenly, it wasn’t the pain that was causing a reaction, it was the feel of his hands gliding over her skin, the whispering caress of his fingers, the frisson chill of his breath against her nape.
Inexplicably, despite everything that had happened, every moment that had led up to her being in the Philippines, she found herself wanting to close her eyes and absorb the sweet friction of his palms against her.
Michael’s skin was soft and his nails well manicured. And he was smaller than John—only an inch or two
taller than Glory Bee, as a matter of fact. But she’d always felt comfortable with him.
John, on the other hand…There was nothing comfortable about John. He was a curious mixture of planes and angles—and his personality was a veritable land mine. He simmered with barely submerged anger whenever the Japanese were mentioned, but at times, she caught glimpses of the joyous man he must have been as a priest. Most of all, there was his hunger whenever she was in his arms. But she knew his desire warred with his conscience and a code of conduct he found difficult to shake.
If things were different…if she were different.
As if he sensed her disquiet, John handed her the bottle and rose to his feet. “I’ll let you finish doing your face.”
He was about to leave the room when she said, “John?”
John turned in the doorway and the last rays of the sun slid over his features. Once again, where Michael’s features were round, his coloring fair, John had been carved from a block of granite, his hair dark, yet flecked with gray. It was obvious that he’d spent most of his time working in the sun because his skin had the ruddy tan.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
“No problem. Hopefully the burn won’t bother you tonight.”
She opened her mouth to clarify that she hadn’t been thanking him for the aftershave. No, her gratitude extended much farther than that. But the curtain dropped and he disappeared.
Settling down on the bunk, she reached into her pack and removed the mosquito netting. After fixing it to a nail in the wall that had probably been used for the same purpose, she settled the fabric around her, then arranged her pack beneath her head for a pillow.
Her body thrummed with exhaustion and she closed her eyes, trying to sleep. They would probably be hiking further into the woods tomorrow and she needed every ounce of strength that she could muster.
But as the camp settled into silence around her, a prickling unease skittered down her spine. The forest around them was rife with sound—the whisper of bamboo fronds, the scurry of animals. From far away came a screeching noise. An animal?
A human?
Despite the heat, she shivered beneath the blanket. She’d grown up in the country, so she was well aware that the night was rarely silent. But here…here, the noises were ominous and unsettling. There was a reason why the villagers had deserted the area. The rustling that she heard could be the footfalls of dozens of Japanese soldiers creeping toward them. What if the dark undergrowth that they had welcomed only hours earlier had become a verdant trap?
Her throat grew tight with terror. Unbidden, the sting of tears caused her to blink the moisture away.
Dammit. She wasn’t a hysterical child to be frightened by wiggly woolies, no matter where she might find them. She refused to become a cowering ninny because of a few nighttime noises.
But even as she railed against her weak emotions, the tears came harder, faster, spilling down her cheeks until she sniffed in her effort to control them. Her chest constricted and she sobbed, then damned herself for the telltale sound. She couldn’t let John see her this way. Not after everything he’d done for her.
Too late.
The curtain twitched and he peered inside.
Glory Bee quickly closed her eyes and tried to remain perfectly still, pretending sleep. But her shuddering inhalations gave her away.
John moved toward her, then sat on the edge of the bunk. Reaching down, he removed his boots, then wordlessly, he slipped beneath the mosquito netting and drew her tightly against him.
Although she knew she should keep her distance, Glory Bee melted against him, gripping his waist and burying her face against his chest as the tears continued to fall.
“D-don’t y-you need to g-guard?”
“Esteban is going first.”
He ran his hand over her hair, then swept his fingers down the length of her spine. Up and down. Up and down. Until she began to regain her composure.
“I-I’m sorry.”
She felt his lips against the top of her head. She thought she sensed his smile.
“You don’t need to be sorry.” His low voice proved to be as much of a caress as the tips of his fingers.
“I-I don’t know wh-what’s come over me.”
Again, she thought she felt him smile.
“You’re tired, hungry, sore, and frightened. I think you have a right to cry.”
“B-but I don’t w-want to s-seem weak.”
“Ah. In my experience only the weak refuse to cry.”
“How’s that?”
“If you don’t feel, if you don’t care, you’ll never cry.”
The statement was so powerful in its simplicity. “Do you ever cry, John?” she whispered.
The silence that pounded between them was warm and fraught with meaning.
“Yes.”
The admission was so painful that she gripped him tighter.
“Is it the loss of your students and your friends that makes you cry?”
He nodded against her. “Sometimes. Sometimes I wonder how I can go on when they’re all gone.”
She wiped at her cheeks, absorbing that statement. “I envy you a little, I think.”
“How so?”
“Except for my grandmother, I’ve never had anyone in my life who left me so…empty when they went away. I’ve certainly never had anyone who would miss me if I were gone.” The words spilled from her lips without thought and she immediately wished she could retrieve them.
That wasn’t true. She had Michael. Michael loved her.
But Michael also had a wife. A wife he wasn’t willing to divorce, no matter how smitten with Glory Bee he might be. He’d proven that fact time and time again. Glory Bee wasn’t a priority in his life. She fell somewhere below his career, his reputation, and his family name.
“It isn’t true that no one would miss you, Glory Bee,” John murmured against her.
“Oh?”
The noises of the night filtered around them for several beats before John said, “I’d miss you.”
The words hurt more than she could have ever imagined, because they were uttered by a man who was a near stranger. One who had no reason to rue her absence after such a short acquaintance.
And yet, more than anything on earth, she wanted his statement to be true. She wanted John Macklin to care for her enough to miss her once this was through and she’d made her way back home.
Because heaven only knew, she would miss him too.
• • •
John waited, feeling Glory Bee’s body slowly becoming lax against him, knowing that as soon as she fell completely asleep, he would have no legitimate reason to stay.
But he did. Even long after he knew she was completely unaware of his presence, he continued to hold her, absorbing the warmth of her body seeping into his side. The weight of her head pressing into his chest.
The curl of her fingers against his waist.
Was this what it felt like? Not just to hold a woman, but to be held by her in return? Not only in passion, but in friendship…affection?
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm the frantic beat of his heart lest she hear it under her ear and know the effect she had on him.
Dear Lord above, he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be playing with fire. He’d only known Glory Bee for less than a month, and their situation was far from conducive to building any kind of emotional relationship. She was grateful for his help. She’d made no secret of that. And he would be a fool to take advantage of her faith in him. More than that, he would be a fool to believe that any intimacy developed between them during such a time of fear and privation could last.
His fingers curled into the soft strands of her hair and he allowed the tresses to twist and twine around his knuckles like lengths of silk.
True, he’d only known her a short time. And yet…
There was something about her that felt timeless and familiar and oh, so right.
Knowing that to re
main any longer at her side would add fuel to the unwanted fire of his attraction, John forced himself to slide free. She frowned, uttering a soft moan—a sound that was nearly his undoing. But he resolutely turned his back on her and sat up, reaching for his boots.
Tomorrow, they would need to delve deeper into the woods. The village was situated at the edge of a bamboo forest, and he knew from experience that even a hundred feet in, the foliage would become nearly impenetrable. Once there, it would be easy to hide from the Japanese patrols. Even if the soldiers tried to make their way into the forest, John and Glory Bee would hear their approach in plenty of time to hide. It shouldn’t be too difficult to build a rough shelter. The primary problem would be water.
After tying his laces, John reached for the rifle and moved outside.
As soon as he stepped down onto the ground, he became aware of a single hulking shape in the darkness. Crossing to Esteban, he sat down beside him next to the well.
“The cargadores?”
Esteban sighed. “Gone. I couldn’t keep ‘em here, Boss.”
John nodded, not really surprised. The men had been spooked by the distant fires. When they’d found the empty village, their fears had magnified.
“I tried to offer them more money, Boss, but they kept sayin’ these woods are haunted.”
John squinted into the darkness that surrounded them. Now more than ever, the foliage loomed like a black, yawning maw.
“Maybe they’re right.”
“Don’t you be talkin’ that way, Boss.” Esteban shivered and crossed himself.
“And what will you be doing, Esteban?”
So far, it was Esteban who had been leading them up the mountain. His wife had family nearby. One of her brothers, a man named Pascal, was rumored to be gathering men to fight.
Esteban dropped his gaze, studying a mosquito bite with abject fascination. Then he admitted slowly, “Maria is tired. Afraid. She thinks her family can keep us safe.”
John nodded. “Her brothers are strong and know the area well.”
“My children are also strong but…” Esteban lifted his shoulders helplessly. “They’re children. They make noises. And once Maria has the baby…”
