“Timor Khan may do it. You need to ask. You’re a woman, not a man.”
“Has he given Lokhay to the Marines in this compound?”
“No way.”
Mouth quirking, Megan said, “But the Marines do so much for this village. You’d think he would.”
“If Khan did, it would mean whoever is shelling us at night would have to stop. And then they would probably turn against the people of Lar Sholtan and murder all of them.”
“I see....”
“You’re a noncombatant, Megan. You need to get this idea across to Mina. You’re there to help.”
Nodding, Megan said, “I’ll ask about this. Thanks for letting me know.”
“There’s a lot out here in the field you’ll never be taught back in a schoolroom.”
It was a somber conversation. “I’m just glad I have your friendship, Luke. You have no idea how safe it makes me feel.” She eyed him shyly. “Oh, I know we’re not safe anywhere out here, but you just have that sense of protection around you.”
Something in Megan’s voice stirred his heart. Her blue eyes danced with sincerity. And her husky voice affected him as would a lover trailing her fingertips across his sensitized flesh. The light coverlet of freckles across her nose and cheeks deepened. Was she blushing?
“Hey, you have no idea how much I look forward to seeing you. It’s nice to have a woman around. I feel damned lucky you’re a field medic,” he said softly.
Megan chuckled. “It’s a big adjustment for everyone.”
“So far,” Luke said in a confidential tone, “I think the company likes having you here. A lot of these grunts have wives back home, and just seeing a pretty young woman like yourself helps them not feel so homesick.”
Heat flared up into her face and Megan knew she was blushing. “I just hope I can prove to Captain Hall and the other Marines that a woman isn’t trouble. We can be of use.”
“You proved that to Hall earlier tonight. I thought his mouth would drop open when you gave him that laundry list of intel.”
“I’ll feel really good about myself if I can persuade Emma and Kahlid to help Lar Sholtan. Cross your fingers the phone call I make to them goes well.”
* * *
Megan felt as if she were walking on air as she moved through the darkness from HQ to her hut from the chow hall. Elated, she opened the door and closed it. Luke was the only one in the hut at the moment.
“Where’s everyone else?” Megan asked, making her way to her cot.
Luke sat on his cot refilling his medic pack. “There’s a poker game tonight.”
“Oh...”
“Did you get ahold of your cousin Emma?”
Sighing, Megan said, “I did. And it’s wonderful news. Emma and Khalid are flying out in a couple of days in their CH-47. They’re going to talk with Timor Khan. There will be a jirga, a meeting of all the elders, when Khalid comes in to sell them on the importance of education for their children. I’ll tell Mina tomorrow morning. I know she’ll be so excited. I’m excited!”
Although he could hear the joyfulness in her voice, Luke could barely see an outline of her face. “That is good news.”
“I really think we can help them, Luke.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Megan. Just quietly present the possibility to Mina and she’ll carry the info back to her husband.”
Trying to ratchet down her expectations, she unlaced and pulled off her boots. “You’re right.” She placed them near the head of her cot. “Do you think we’ll get shelled tonight?”
“Never know,” he said, zipping up his bag and setting it beneath his cot. What would it be like to have Megan in his arms? She was so full of hope, a beautiful flower thriving out in this dangerous desert at five thousand feet. He worried about her enthusiasm. And her life. The enemy could move through the village like a shadow. He lay down on the cot. “Do you know how to recognize someone who’s from the Taliban if you saw one?”
Megan got rid of her Kevlar vest. “No.”
“They have a hatred of us. Their eyes are black and filled with hate. You won’t miss it. And there are other signs. These villagers are small. Wrinkles in their face and their hands show their hard work. A Taliban soldier is going to have soft hands because he doesn’t work out in the fields all day. They’re hired by a warlord to ride and fight. Their beards are well trimmed, whereas a villager’s is not. Their clothes are cleaner and not threadbare and patched.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Do.”
Megan lay down and brought the four thick wool blankets up to her shoulder as she turned onto her left side. Snuggling into the hard pillow, she sighed. “Thank you, Luke. You’re a lifesaver.”
Luke wanted to be more than that, he was discovering. Unhappy that he was powerfully drawn to Megan, he closed his eyes. “Get some sleep, Megan. Busy day tomorrow...”
* * *
Mina listened with delight over the invitation from Emma and Khalid to her husband, Timor. Megan sat with her in the warmth of her kitchen, drinking hot tea before the clinic opened.
“This is wonderful news,” Mina said, sipping her tea.
“I thought it was. Do you think your husband will hold a jirga and discuss the possibility? Perhaps invite Jabbar over?” Megan held her breath because if Mina knew something she didn’t, the plan could be axed before it ever got off the ground.
“He must think about it.”
Nodding, Megan tried to hide her feelings of panic. “I understand.”
“Jabbar is not Pashtun,” Mina cautioned in a low voice. “He was born in Pakistan and he’s not of our tribe.”
Confused, Megan said, “I don’t understand what he has to do with what we’re discussing.”
“Jabbar knows of Lokhay, but Timor is not sure he respects it.”
Megan was silently thanking Luke for telling her about their code last evening. “Does that pose a problem between your village and Jabbar?”
“I don’t know.” Worried, Mina looked around the brightly lit kitchen. The sun’s slats shined through the dirty windows and filled the area with a golden color. “Jabbar is a very angry and deadly man. He works with al-Qaeda in this area. And no one is sure he is respectful of Lokhay, which is problematic.”
“You mean, for example, he could come into your village and kidnap your older boys for service?” Megan knew the Taliban did that.
“Yes. If there is Lokhay between two people or two villages or tribes, both abide by the laws of it. Timor has met Jabbar once at a jirga and the meeting didn’t go well. Jabbar is arrogant and he abuses the privilege of the power he holds. He threatened to burn our crops if we didn’t give his men the food they demanded from us.”
“Oh, no...”
“Yes.” Grimly, Mina whispered, “You know how precious our food is to our village. In the code, we have Melmastia, or hospitality. We respect all visitors, no matter who they are or what tribe they are from. We will offer them our homes, our food and our blankets. Without question. Last year, Jabbar came riding in here on his white stallion. He had an army of a hundred men on horseback. And he demanded bags of beans we had grown to feed all his men. He told Timor that he owed the food to all of them because of Melmastia.”
“But you had no Lokhay agreement?”
“Exactly. We fed his men, fed his horses and offered them hospitality while they were here, but Timor refused to allow them to take our harvest. My husband realized Jabbar was bringing a show of force in order to scare us into giving our winter food to him. He is known for stealing from others.”
“What happened?” Megan saw the anxiety come to Mina’s green eyes.
“Jabbar tried to threaten the elders at a jirga. Timor stood up and told him if he took our tribe’s winter food, they would rise, hun
t all of them down and slit their throats. If Jabbar did not abide by Lokhay, he could never return and demand anything from us again.”
“Wow,” Megan murmured. “What did Jabbar do?”
“He cursed the elders, the Lokhay and Pashtuns. Some of our younger men, even though they are farmers, were outraged over such insults toward our elders. They attacked two of Jabbar’s soldiers, slit their throats and promised to hunt the rest of his men down to do the same.”
Eyes widening, Megan asked, “Then what happened?”
“Jabbar left in fury. He and his hundred men rode out of here, but they didn’t shoot anyone. Since then, he’s not returned. The Marines came here shortly after Jabbar left. Jabbar bombs the Marine compound all the time. He sends his men to plant those awful IEDs out on our dirt roads to kill the Americans.” Her voice lowered and she added sadly, “All we want is to live in peace.”
“It must be very, very stressful,” Megan whispered, reaching out and touching Mina’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“The Americans want to stop the Taliban and al-Qaeda. The problem is our villages are in the way. Timor hates both groups because they have no code of life. They are disrespectful and he sees them trying to bribe other villages with threats, intimidation, food or antibiotics. There are many villages up in the mountains above us that barely survive, and the bribes Jabbar offers them are like life itself. You know as a medic how important an antibiotic is for someone who is sick or injured. I can’t tell you how many of our people have died over the years because we had no medicine.”
“It sounds like Jabbar knows the needs, supplies them and then gets the village to agree to what he wants.”
Mina held up her hands. “Yes. The mountain villages have done that. But we, in this valley, have not. We live by Lokhay. No one, not even the Taliban, can tell us differently. And this causes great friction between us and the Taliban. Timor does not want the Taliban running our villages. Even an American, if given Lokhay by our people, would be protected against Jabbar. And he knows that.”
“Sounds like a standoff between you and Jabbar,” Megan said.
Sighing, Mina said, “It is. Timor hates that his men are always out there at night planting IEDs on our roads and paths. Our own people walk them. And many of our men and boys have lost their lives or a leg to them.”
“And yet you’re friends with Jabbar’s wife, Tahira?”
“Yes, because she is from southern Afghanistan and she is a good person. Tahira is the soul of kindness and is much like you. I believe the only reason Jabbar has not attacked our village and murdered everyone is her influence.”
“She has real power over Jabbar?”
Mina shrugged. “Yes. She’s very tiny but very firm with Jabbar.”
“How did you get to know her?”
“After Jabbar’s missteps with us, she came over the mountain a week later by horseback. She asked to talk to me, because, as you know, women cannot talk to men they do not know. We became instant friends. She has two young boys and of course, we talked about our children, the pressures of being the wife of a leader.”
“And Tahira came from a tribe that was not Pashtun?”
“Correct. Tahira’s father is a chief of another tribe in the south of our country. She was very lucky and was taught how to read and write. She recognized my education made me a better leader’s wife. That is why I want to send a messenger across the mountain and see if she will welcome me into their home. I want to speak to her about the educational opportunity your cousin and her husband can bring to us. All of us.”
Considering the jaded past with Jabbar, Megan worried for Mina. “Would Jabbar stop his wife from allowing you to ride over the mountain to visit Tahira?”
Laughing, Mina said, “Oh, no! Men rule, but they never rule us in that way. This is a visit between women. Whatever I would share with Tahira, she in turn would let her husband know. And even though Jabbar is a fierce warrior, he is a lamb toward his beautiful wife.”
“I hope this works,” Megan said.
“And what of you?” Mina asked, pouring more tea into their cups. “You are a beautiful young woman. You have Tahira’s spiritedness. Are you married? Do you have children?”
“No, I’m not married.” She saw sadness come to Mina’s eyes.
“Are you lonely?”
Megan picked up her cup of hot tea. “I’m just trying to concentrate on what I’m doing here to help your village.”
“I’ve watched that handsome young medic, Luke Collier, from time to time.” She raised her thin black brows. “He’s very appealing. Don’t you agree?”
Laughing a little, Megan nodded. “Yes, he’s very handsome. So even though you ladies are out and about in your burkas, you do look at men?”
Grinning, Mina whispered, “You know, a burka works two ways, my friend. We have a slit to look out of and no one can see what you’re looking at.” Laughing, she added, “And men, at times, are like dumb donkeys. We can look and appreciate a very good-looking, strong man and never get caught doing it. There’s no harm in appreciating beauty, no matter whether man or woman.”
Megan grinned with her. “You ladies are amazing.”
“I know I’ve read articles where Americans think burkas are bad, but they hide and reveal much!”
The laughter made the room feel warm and secure for Megan. She felt utterly safe with Mina around. The young wife of Timor Khan was a force to be reckoned with.
“I have seen Luke stare at you,” Mina said, a playful smile on her lips. “Have you noticed it?”
Caught off guard, Megan stammered, “Why...no. I had no idea.”
Megan wagged a finger in her face. “Megan, for being such a young, beautiful woman, you are a donkey with blinders on! The first day you arrived here, I saw the medic stare at you like a lovesick stallion pining for his favorite mare!”
Choking on the tea, Megan covered her mouth and set the cup aside. Heat soared into her face and she saw Mina’s wide smile and knowing in her eyes. After coughing some more, she managed a weak smile. “I’m here on business only, Mina. We have rules in the military that say you can’t have a relationship with another person. It’s not allowed.”
“Umm,” Mina said with mirth as she sipped her tea. “Well, someone should tell your handsome medic about that rule.”
Chapter 6
“Tell me about your parents,” Luke said. It was the first time in the past two weeks he’d had a chance to talk with her privately. He sat on his cot after coming back from morning chow. They had a busy day ahead of them, and both would be holding clinics in the village. Everyone else had left for duty. A lucky break.
Megan hauled her medic bag from the bottom of her cot and set it up on the table. “My dad, Noah, was a Coast Guard officer for thirty years. He’s retired now as a rear admiral. My mom, Kit, is still a detective with Dade County, Florida. Why do you ask?” She cherished the small moments with Luke. Most of the time, they were separated by demands. Megan couldn’t stare at him because it would have been obvious to the other Marines. The military’s warning of “no fraternization” always rang in her ears.
“I was just wondering who you took after.” Luke flashed her a grin.
“My dad, for sure.”
“Is he like you? Quiet and thoughtful?” Luke saw her expression grow contemplative.
“Yes, he’s like that. My mom is more intense, like a laser. She misses nothing. My dad is very laid-back and easygoing.” She picked up some drugs from another pouch and placed them in her pack. “I have a twin, Addison, and she’s exactly like my mom.”
“And where’s Addison?”
“She’s graduated from Annapolis and is now a helicopter pilot aboard the carrier John C. Stennis.”
“A hard charger? Gung ho?” Luke guessed.
; “Addy is definitely a hard charger.”
“So, what happened to you? Why didn’t you join the Coast Guard?”
“My dad wanted me to, but I guess I had to bumble around and find out who I was first. I knew I had to complete the Trayhern tradition of serving our country.”
“You didn’t want to become an officer even though you’ve got a four-year college degree. Why not become an officer in the Navy?” He could hear Humvees firing up and getting ready to leave for the day’s first mission. Judging from her expression, he could tell he’d accidentally stepped into a wound she carried.
“I guess Addy would tell you I’m like a shadow in comparison to her. I was always the quiet one who watched but didn’t say much. I’m an introvert. I need peace and quiet. I believe in peace, not war.”
“I don’t like war, either,” he told her. Cherishing their intimacy, he added, “I guess that’s in part why I became a field medic. I’d rather save lives.”
She melted beneath his hazel gaze. “You’re an introvert, too?”
“Probably,” he groused, packing dressings into the larger pack. “My father is a medical doctor. My mother is a registered nurse.”
“You have medical genes for sure,” she said, impressed.
“My father was always pushing me to become a doctor, but I wasn’t into it.”
“And your mother? What did she want you to be?”
He stopped and rested his hands on the pack in his lap. “Happy.”
“I like her already. She sounds like my dad. He’s an idealist and believes that human compassion is better than going to war and killing.”
“I like his philosophy. I think you’d like my mother. She cries if she sees a dead butterfly on the sidewalk.”
“Oh, so do I,” Megan said, amazed. “So, do you take after your mother?”
“I do. But,” he said teasingly, “I don’t cry over a dead butterfly.”
“What makes you cry?” Megan sat and watched his expression. Outside, the voices of sergeants bawling at their charges filled the air along with the roar of Humvees.
Beyond Valor Page 8
