Sam figured into several troubling thoughts. She felt his attraction keenly, but always with an underlying wariness, like a prey being tempted by the all too irresistible bait. She knew that once she gave in, she would be hooked. Married.
Caged. In a way she understood the plight of those leopard cubs. They would have a good life in the zoo. They’d be pampered, fed, cared for, and never know the threat of death by some set of thrashing hooves or a bullet. But at what price? Oh certainly, Sam said he loved her adventuresome spirit, but later, would he expect her to settle into a more moderate routine? Already he’d disapproved of her newest job and demanded her promise to act more sedately.
She thought about Beverly, so happy in her impending motherhood. Where was the Beverly she’d once known? The Beverly who threw all caution to the wind on an ambulance run had become the Beverly who also worried whenever Jade got a little too daring. Maybe, like the leopards, there wasn’t any place for the free spirit anymore. Am I a dying breed?
Another part of Jade told her that Sam was different. He wouldn’t cage her. She could trust him. But just recently he’d been gruff, and Jade worried that she’d offended him somehow. She’d been right all along. He hadn’t been well, but her suggesting it had angered him, pushing her away. How ironic. Maybe my worry about losing my independence is a moot point.
Then there was that nasty bit of business involving Stokes. Sam, it seemed, had become Finch’s key suspect, and while Jade didn’t believe Sam had killed Stokes, some supposed eyewitness did. Had the real killer seen the argument and taken advantage of it to kill Stokes and then blame Sam? That last thought made Jade shudder.
Her reflections ended as Neville left his men in the truck and led Jade into the hospital. They headed for Sam’s ward, where a zealous nurse in stiffly starched whites stopped them.
“Visiting hours are over,” she said. “You must return tomorrow.”
Jade didn’t intend any such thing. “I’ve come to see the American Sam Featherstone.” She kept her tone cool, nonadversarial, and very matter-of-fact, hoping that she spoke with an assured authority.
The nurse immediately looked her over, taking in the dusty boots and jodhpurs. “Mr. Featherstone,” she repeated. “Then you must be Jenny?”
Jade felt a momentary sting, knowing that Sam had called for his plane instead of her. She didn’t show it. “Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
“I’ll take you there right away. The doctor thinks you might be able to calm his delirium. We haven’t been able to do much with him. Can’t even draw blood safely.” She nodded to Neville. “You shall have to wait until tomorrow, though, sir. Hospital rules.”
Jade turned to Neville. “You’d better get yourself and your men back home. Maddy will be anxious enough. Thanks for coming for me.”
The nurse marched ahead of Jade down a long corridor, turning right into one of the side rooms, a ward for male patients. Rows of beds, most empty, lined both walls with a narrow walkway between them. A few men lay sleeping under white sheets. One watched Jade pass by.
Jade had no trouble telling which bed was Sam’s. She heard his moans as soon as she entered the room, and they tore into her heart. For a moment she felt transported back to the battlefields, where she’d helped to load the wounded. All those beautiful, brave young men. As Jade drew nearer, she could see that they had strapped Sam into the bed around his chest and upper arms and again around his knees, but in his fevered delirium he still thrashed against the restraints.
“Haven’t you gotten any quinine in him yet?” Jade asked.
“Some,” said the nurse, “by pinching his nose shut and forcing his mouth open, but I’m afraid he’s vomited most of it back out.”
She knelt beside the bed. “Sam, I’m here. Sam. Can you hear me? It’s Jade.”
“Jade?” snapped the nurse. “You said your name was Jenny.”
“It’s a nickname,” said Jade with a dismissive wave. She turned back to the feverish man lying drenched on the bed. His cheeks looked sunken, emphasizing the bold, straight nose that grew from his brow. His gaunt appearance made Jade shudder. Sweat trickled from his high forehead and pooled briefly on his pillow before soaking into the casing. His lips worked as he struggled to give voice to his deliriums and his left foot shifted restlessly under the sheets. Jade noticed that his right leg disappeared about midcalf.
“We removed his prosthetic leg,” said the doctor who had appeared at her elbow.
Jade picked up a cloth and patted his sopping brow. “Sam,” she called again, this time getting closer to his ear. For a second, his moans stopped, and his eyelids flickered. “Rest easy, Sam. No one’s going to hurt you. We want to help you.”
The doctor held a glass to Sam’s lips. “Mr. Featherstone, you must drink this.”
Sam’s left forearm flew up and he swatted at the doctor’s hand. “German swine! You’ll get nothing from me!”
“He apparently thinks it’s the war, and the Germans have him prisoner,” said the doctor.
Jade felt her stomach wrench. He’d never given any hint that he’d been taken prisoner, but then like most soldiers, he didn’t like to talk about the war. For that matter, neither did she. Is it true? She remembered Sam talking about interrogation tactics back at police headquarters.
“Give me that,” said Jade. She sniffed it and smelled the lime, which made the bitter quinine in ordinary tonic water remotely palatable. But in here, the quinine dosage was higher. “He’s not British. I don’t think he’s used to your usual sundowner,” she said, referring to the nightly gin and tonic. “I have an idea. Do you have a lemon? And I need an empty glass.”
“Nurse, fetch a lemon sliced in two,” ordered the doctor. He looked at Jade. “Don’t Americans like limes?”
Jade shrugged. “Never had one myself before I came here.” The nurse returned with the two halves of a lemon and the empty glass. Jade took the glass of tonic water from the doctor and squeezed one lemon half into it. “When I give the word, put the empty glass in his right hand.”
She held the second lemon half under Sam’s nose, her fingertips brushing his mustache. “Sam,” she said softly, “it’s a hot summer day. You’ve been working hard in the field. It’s time to come to the porch and drink a cool glass of lemonade.” She nodded to the doctor. “Now.”
Sam’s lips moved in a voiceless response. His nostrils twitched, then flared as he inhaled the clean scent of lemon. After a moment, his right hand gripped the empty glass and lifted at the elbow. At the same time, Jade held the glass of quinine water to his lips. Sam drank slowly at first; then, with the doctor supporting Sam’s head, he gulped the rest just as he might have drained a glass of lemonade back on his home farm in Indiana.
“That was delicious, wasn’t it, Sam?” Jade said, her voice soothing and calm. “Now you should take an afternoon snooze here on the hammock.”
“Work . . . Jenny,” Sam muttered.
“Don’t worry about Jenny,” said Jade. “She’s fine. I’m taking care of her.”
Sam’s body relaxed as he drifted into sleep. The doctor took a syringe full of Sam’s blood for observation.
“That was brilliant, miss,” said the doctor. “I’m most grateful to you.”
“Once his fever’s down, you’ll probably find him more pliable,” said Jade. “But you might have to resort to this deception again. If you don’t object, I’d like to stay by him until then.”
“Not at all,” said the doctor, ignoring the nurse’s shocked glare. “Your presence appears to me most soothing to him. But I’m confused. I thought you were Jenny. You’re not?”
Jade shook her head.
“Then is this someone we should send for?”
Jade’s lips twitched in a brief, wry smile. “Hardly. It’s his plane, Doctor. A pilot’s first love.”
“Oh, I see,” mumbled the doctor. Then his eyes opened wide and he held Jade’s gaze. “I daresay, that’s a bit of a stunner for you, miss . . . er, what
is your name?”
“Jade del Cameron. And it’s probably no more than I deserve.” She smiled weakly. “He’s a good man and a war veteran, as you probably gathered.” Jade nodded toward the stump where his lower leg should have been. “I expect you to treat him as such.”
“Of course, Miss del Cameron. All our patients receive the best of care. I must own I wondered about that leg. Tough break for the chap, but I’ve seen worse.”
Jade met his eyes. “So have I.”
Something in Jade’s emerald eyes made the doctor wince, as though she projected all the pain and sorrow she’d ever experienced hauling the wounded and mangled in her ambulance. He stood. “Nurse Harper will be in the ward, of course, and I will make rounds again in a few hours. If he, or you, should need anything, let us know.”
Jade thanked them both, then settled into a wooden chair by Sam’s head. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned her head back against the wall. Might as well catch a bit of sleep before Sam wakes again. It’s going to be a long night.
She catnapped, slipping out of sleep every time the nurse walked by or whenever Sam shifted in his bed. Then, as soon as her brain registered that all was well, or at least not any worse, Jade drifted back into her fragmented dreams. Her body rested, but her mind worked at sorting and organizing her many questions and her scant information. As a consequence, she dreamed of Biscuit chasing raggedy, half-starved zebras into newspaper offices full of orphaned babies.
The doctor returned at four a.m., and together, they repeated the last ruse and tricked Sam into swallowing the bitter concoction. He thrashed less than before, and drank willingly if less eagerly. This time he didn’t speak. He continued to perspire, but seemed less feverish than before. The nurse brought fresh sheets and a clean nightshirt.
“Wait outside, miss. It would not be proper for a”—she paused, eyed Jade’s clothes, and nearly choked on the next word—“lady to be present while the patient was bathed and dressed.”
“I was an ambulance driver during the war,” Jade said. “I’ve been around men while they’re being cared for.” She pointed to the restraints. “What if he gets violent again? You know you shouldn’t be doing this alone. If you don’t want me around, then get a second nurse in here or the doctor.”
“The doctor is resting at the moment,” said the nurse, “and we only have one nurse per ward during night shift.”
“Then you’re stuck with me.”
The nurse scowled. “Very well, but I do not approve.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Jade. “Now, you’re in charge. What do you want me to do?”
Knowing that Jade was willing to follow her directions placated the nurse’s sensibilities. “Undo the chest strap only. If he begins to thrash, apply firm but gentle pressure to his shoulders and I’ll redo the restraints. We must work quickly.”
Jade did as she was directed and kept her hands on Sam’s shoulders, moving one only when the nurse pulled the back-less shirt from first one arm, then the other, and again when she slipped the clean linen gown on him. She felt the firmness of Sam’s muscles under her hands and recalled the night he’d held her close in the hammock on Mount Marsabit, protecting her against the cold with his body heat. That night, her own overpowering fatigue had dissolved in his strong but gentle embrace.
The nurse quickly washed Sam while Jade kept her gaze focused on his face and the mop of damp brown hair that clung to his brow. They undid the leg restraints next.
“Roll him toward you,” said the nurse. Jade complied and the nurse slipped the wet sheet from under him and slid in a fresh one. “Now I’ll turn him toward me, and you finish that side of the sheets.”
Jade tugged the sheet tight, averting her eyes from Sam’s exposed rear. They rolled Sam onto his back again and pulled up a fresh top sheet, leaving the restraints off. When they were done, the nurse once again looked Jade over.
“You’re a cool assistant—I give you that,” the woman said. “At least you’re not one of those flighty women who faint.”
Jade smiled at the term “flighty.” For her, it had a different meaning. “Thank you, Nurse. Mr. Featherstone appears to be calmer now. I doubt you’ll need any help next time.”
“His fever is dropping. He shouldn’t sweat out another set of sheets so quickly.” The nurse started to leave, then turned back to Jade. “You should consider becoming a nurse yourself.”
Jade shook her head. “I dealt too closely with death during the war. I doubt I could maintain my composure as well as you do.”
The nurse accepted the compliment with a nod and returned to her rounds. Jade went back to her hard chair and another attempt at sleep. She managed half an hour. Then the iron grip of a hand clamped on her wrist startled her awake. She turned to see a pair of black eyes staring at her.
“Sam,” she said, “you’re awake.” He only stared, his eyes slightly glazed as though he was trying to comprehend the situation. Jade came to his rescue with a whispered explanation. “You’re in the hospital, Sam. In Nairobi,” she added, lest he was still feverish and under the impression he’d been shot down.
He tried to speak and managed to croak out, “Why?”
“Malaria, from the looks of it. I’ll bet you haven’t been using your mosquito netting. You’ve had a pretty wild fever. I’ve seen broncs that bucked less than you were doing.”
He tried to rise and fell back against the bed.
“Lie still, Sam.” Jade took a cloth, dampened it in a basin, and wiped his face. “You had me pretty worried.” She noticed his left foot shift, searching for the right one. Did he feel his missing leg, she wondered, or was he only trying to find out if the wooden one was attached?
“Should I call the nurse for you, Sam? Is there anything you want?”
His grip on her wrist tightened. “What day is it?” he said, his voice weak and breathy.
Jade placed her other hand on his, stroking it, hoping he’d relax the pressure on her wrist. “It’s not yet dawn on Monday.”
His nearly black eyes took on a pleading note. “I need to leave. The job. The Jenny.”
Jade shook her head. “You can’t fly right now. They’ll have to wait on their rhino.”
“No!” he said more forcefully. “They can’t wait. Contract.”
Jade sighed. Although the plane and a spare engine had only cost him two hundred fifty dollars from the Curtiss Company, Sam had spent a lot more having it shipped overseas last year. He’d put nearly everything else he owned into the Akeley motion picture camera and film. This job was important to him. “I could talk to them if you want,” she said.
“No! You fly.”
CHAPTER 12
Initiation into manhood means respect, freedom, and the fellowship of other
warriors. Initiation into womanhood means the end of freedom and marriage
to a junior elder at least twice as old as she. Yet the women sing constantly.
—The Traveler
YOU FLY! THE command echoed in Jade’s ears, stirring myriad conflicting emotions. Exuberance and excitement clashed with sadness and fear. She thrilled at the thought of going solo, then rebuked herself for forgetting the cause of this honor. Sam was still in a bad way. But a sense of pride surfaced, because she knew that she could help calm his mind by removing one of his concerns. Fear that she wasn’t ready to fly plowed right into pride. What if I wreck his plane? He’ll never forgive me. A sneering voice reminded her that she needn’t fret there. If she wrecked his plane, she’d probably be dead anyway.
Jade leaned closer to Sam and kissed him lightly on his forehead. “Sam. I—”
She was interrupted by the renewed grip on her wrist. “Please,” he pleaded.
Jade patted his hand. “All right, Sam. If it will help you to rest, then I’ll take her up.”
He sighed, closed his eyes, and collapsed back on his pillow. His right hand slipped from her wrist and fell to his side. Jade readjusted his cover sheet before reachin
g into her bag for a pencil and her notebook. She tore out a back page and wrote a note to Avery, remembering his plans to visit in the morning.
Avery: Sam had a job scouting for rhino. He’s asked me to go up for him. I’ll be home later this evening.
Jade
She looked over the brief note, decided it was adequate, and folded the paper. She wrote Avery on the outside, and set it on the chair seat.
The nurse saw her head for the door. “You are leaving now?”
“Yes,” said Jade. “Thank you for taking such excellent care of him.” She pointed back to the chair. “I left a note for a friend of Mr. Featherstone’s, someone who’ll come by later.”
“What shall I tell Mr. Featherstone if he wakes and finds you’re gone?”
“Tell him I’m taking care of Jenny.”
WHEN JADE ARRIVED at the Thompsons’ farm, the sun was just breaking over the horizon, and the warmth felt good on a chilly morning. The Thompsons were already giving directions to their workers for the day. The smaller fly crop had already been picked and pulped. Now it waited for the fermenter to loosen the residue left on the beans in preparation for washing.
Biscuit greeted Jade first with a chirp and a head butt. A small black feather with white spots stuck on his chin told Jade that her pet had found a wild guineafowl for breakfast.
“Jade,” called Madeline when she spied her friend, “how is Sam? We’re going to drive in and see him later this afternoon if we can get away.”
“He’s doing better, Maddy,” Jade said. “We managed to get the quinine in him and his fever finally broke. I left him sleeping, and Avery’s going to spend time with him this morning. They’re limiting his guests anyway.” She clapped Neville on the shoulder. “Thank you, Neville, for bringing him in last evening and for coming to get me.”
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