Authors: Kim McMahill
Jessica pushed from Jack’s embrace, worried they might lose Megan if they didn’t hurry, and she witnessed a vulnerable and uncertain look in Jack’s eyes. She wished he would trust her enough to tell her the rest of his story. What he had told her was horrible enough, but he didn’t seem as if he had relieved his entire burden after he had explained what had happened in Liberia. She had the feeling it was only one tragedy in a string of many.
“Come on. I don’t know how long Megan can stall.”
When they emerged from the trees, Jessica could see the old woman wasn’t pleased to see a man. The woman started to raise her machete in a defensive posture when Megan’s legs gave out. The woman dropped the blade and placed both arms around her to keep her from falling to the ground. Jessica and Jack raced to Megan’s aid and Jack pried Megan from the woman’s arms and held her up.
“Stay with us sweetheart,” he whispered in Megan’s ear.
With Jack’s arms full of Megan, he must have no longer looked like a threat. The old woman gave Megan a sympathetic look as she bent down to pick up her machete. She paused for only a moment and then motioned for the three of them to follow.
Jessica circled to the other side of Megan and helped shore up her friend. She and Jack struggled with Megan’s limp weight, but kept up with their guide. The stout woman looked back occasionally, but said nothing.
As they walked on, the heat bore down. Megan’s strength continued to wane until Jessica thought they might have to carry her, though her own strength was rapidly giving out as well. Megan’s head began to bob and her eyes fluttered shut.
The trail came to an end at a small house a half-mile from the garden plot. The area around the structure had been brushed clear of debris, yet the smell of farm animals and rotting vegetables hung in the hot, heavy, humid air. Chickens pecked and scratched under a shade tree, looking for seeds to feast on and two pigs stretched lazily under a canopy to avoid the sun. The scene was peaceful and simple.
They followed the woman to the tiny house. Built several feet off the ground on stilts to provide a cooling draft, closely spaced slats skirted the structure to keep most animals from taking up residency underneath the floor.
The woman opened the door and motioned them in. Light filtered in through faded thread-bare curtains. There were only three rooms. One served as kitchen and dining area and two bedrooms opened up off of the back end.
Jessica and Jack followed her into one of the tiny bedrooms and lay Megan on the single bed in the corner. Jack instantly tipped the water bottle to Megan’s lips, forcing her to drink, while Jessica removed her shoes and socks.
“Her fever’s down, but she doesn’t look good. She’s so pale,” Jessica said.
“I worried all the walking was too much for her, but I imagine lots of rest and fluids will help her feel better. I hope the chloroquine wasn’t too outdated, but we can’t expect it to work this quickly anyway.”
Jessica pulled a wooden hard-back chair next to the bed and took Megan’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Megan opened her eyes and looked at Jessica. There were tears clouding her blue eyes and Jessica didn’t know if they were tears of pain or relief.
“How are you doing?”
“Okay. I’m just so tired and achy. I’m sorry I let you two down.”
Her voice was little more than a whisper. She seemed so fragile that it broke Jessica’s heart. She forced back her own tears and pasted a smile on her lips.
“Everything’s going to be fine. There’s no need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault you got bit by the wrong mosquito.”
Megan managed a weak laugh and shut her eyes.
Jessica placed Megan’s hand back on the edge of the bed and bit hard on her lip to keep from crying. She hadn’t noticed Jack’s hand on her shoulder until he gave it a squeeze. She looked at him and could see concern in his eyes.
The old woman reentered the room and motioned for Jessica and Jack to follow her out. In the kitchen area, she pointed to chairs at the table and Jack and Jessica sat. Carrying a battered aluminum coffee pot from the wood-fired cook stove, she poured thick dark liquid into two chipped cups placed alongside a plate full of biscuits. She nodded to the biscuits, indicating they should eat and took a seat across from Jessica.
The coffee was strong and tepid, but was a flavor from home, and it brought a smile to Jessica’s lips. The biscuits were fresh and warm and felt like heaven in her empty stomach.
Jack ate in silence. He knew he made their host nervous and he didn’t want to cause them to be thrown out. A long night in a real bed would do Megan wonders and he couldn’t remember when a simple biscuit and old coffee had tasted so good.
“Jessica,” she said as she pointed to herself. “Jack and Megan,” she stated while motioning to each in turn.
“Isabel,” the woman replied.
“Gracias, Isabel, gracias.”
Jessica reached over and patted the woman’s hand. She wished she could do more to express her gratitude, but was at a loss. Hours before Isabel had found them, Jessica felt certain they were going to die, but after a kind gesture, coffee, biscuits and the feel of sitting in a real chair, hope began to slip back into her thoughts.
As they ate and drank, Jack couldn’t help but wonder where the man of the house was. He supposed she could be a widow, but it was very uncommon to find old people living alone in rural parts of Mexico and it would be especially dangerous for a woman. He looked around the room and saw nothing to indicate a man lived in the house.
Jack found it impossible to sit, so he took his cup and went outside. For a moment, he stood in the shade of the porch and questioned why a single old woman lived out here in the middle of nowhere all alone. He assumed they were a long ways from anything, but maybe he was way off base.
He wandered around the place. There wasn’t much to it. A couple dogs sleeping on the porch, a dozen chickens scrounging for food and two pigs in an enclosure he was surprised could hold them. Maybe the swine feared the jungle more than they desired freedom.
As he neared the outhouse, the stench was overwhelming and the dilapidated building hummed with flies. The tiny structure leaned to one side and was clearly at the end of its life. About fifty yards away he spotted where someone had started to dig for a new outhouse. The hole was about the right diameter, but only a foot deep.
For lack of anything better to do, Jack picked up the shovel. The dirt was soft and before long, he had to jump into the hole in order to continue digging. He lost all track of time as he forged deeper, sweat rolling down his back, dirt clinging to his skin. The simple act of digging took him home and it felt good to think of something else besides dying and feeling responsible for the lives of others.
Jack had done most of the work on his own cabin. Zach and Dave had helped, but Jack found satisfaction in doing as much as he could by himself. He’d invested nearly every penny from his parents’ considerable estate into his place and it had been worth it. The ten acres and two-story log cabin were much more than he needed and far more extravagant than his usual taste, but it was his sanctuary and a memorial to his parents. He wondered if he would ever see it again. He missed the mountains and the cool temperatures and he yearned to go home.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that Jessica’s voice startled him, making him drop the shovel. He looked up and saw her and Isabel staring down at him. For a brief moment, he pictured Jessica standing next to him on the front porch of his cabin watching the sunset and it felt right, but his eyes quickly shifted to Isabel and the image faded as reality came back into focus.
Jack hoped he hadn’t been too presumptuous by digging the hole deeper, but by the look on Isabel’s face she was pleased. He hoisted himself out of the hole and brushed the dirt off his clothes. Isabel grabbed his hand and repeated, “
Gracias, gracias.
”
He pointed to the old outhouse and motioned to the new hole and she nodded vigorously. He wasn’t sure how they would actually move the building, but he would sleep on it and felt certain an idea would come to him by morning.
Isabel tugged at his hand and led him toward the back of the house. Jessica followed close behind and gasped with delight when she spotted soap, a small basin and a couple buckets of water.
Jessica bumped Jack out of the way. “You’re filthy. Let me wash up first before you destroy the water.”
“Like you’re a whole lot better.” He wiped a smudge of dirt from her nose and lifted a lock of her matted hair in his fingers, holding it up in front of her so she could see just how bad her hair looked.
Jessica grinned at him, jerked her hair out of his grasp and gave him another friendly shove.
With a chuckle, Jack stepped aside as Isabel raced back into the house. She quickly reemerged holding towels and a faded T-shirt that made Jack smile and laugh. When Jessica looked over at him to see what was so funny, he held the t-shirt up for her.
“It’s like a dream come true. Here in Mexico, the Broncos actually won the nineteen-eighty-eight Super Bowl championship.”
It was common for companies to ship t-shirts that weren’t needed after all to foreign, underprivileged countries, but this one was special. He and his dad had managed to get tickets and attended the game together. It was one of the best memories he had. His dad had worn the Washington Redskins Super Bowl championship t-shirt until the thing was little more than holes held together by threads. Jack had been rooting for the Broncos. If only his dad could see him now.
Jack hugged Isabel and thanked her. He hoped he hadn’t scared her, but as he eased back, he could see a broad smile form on her dry, cracked lips. Isabel lowered her head in embarrassment and scuttled back into the house.
He looked at the t-shirt one more time and set it aside to keep it from getting wet. He glanced to Jessica and she held a pail of water in one hand and a fist full of her hair in the other. Her head was cocked, her eyes locked on him and she had a mischievous smile on her lips that made him laugh.
Jack wasn’t sure when he’d turned into the kind of man who would wash a woman’s hair, but he enjoyed the easy connection they shared with each other. He poured a bucket of water over her head while she bent forward over the basin and waited while she used the bar of soap to lather her hair. He then poured more water over her head, running his fingers around her scalp to get all the suds rinsed out.
He continued to watch as she gave herself a sponge bath. If he weren’t still a little afraid they were going to die, he decided he might even enjoy the scene, and he found that thought to be as uncomfortable as it was exciting.
“Oh my God,” she squealed. “Look, toothpaste!”
Jessica squeezed a little bit on her finger and rubbed her teeth as hard as she could. She wasn’t sure how effective it was, but it felt good and tasted familiar. She hadn’t realized how disgusting she had become until now, as she washed off the multiple layers of grime.
Jack smiled at her childlike enthusiasm. She was definitely an interesting woman. She certainly hadn’t behaved the way he would have expected a pampered princess of a wealthy U.S. senator to behave. She expected no special treatment, would clearly sacrifice herself for those she cared about and was now celebrating toothpaste. He took one of her hands and looked at her chipped-polish and broken nails
¾
no she was nothing as he had judged her to be when they first met.
“My turn.” Jack let go of her hand and nudged her out of the way with a slight bump of his hip.
Pulling his old dirty T-shirt over his head, he tossed it aside and leaned over the basin, so Jessica could pour water over his head. He took his time lathering his hair, enjoying the moment of luxury.
Before she dumped rinse water over him, she grabbed the bar of soap and washcloth and scrubbed his back and shoulders. She took another bucket and poured the water slowly over him, swirling it through his hair and over his skin with her fingers to get all the suds off.
As her fingers moved over all the scars on his back, she ached for him. Since he’d told her about Liberia, she knew what had caused the marks. He had healed well, but the scars would never totally fade from his back and would now be burned into her heart.
A sigh of contentment nearly escaped his lips as her hands lingered on his skin. He doubted she had any idea what she was doing to him. He struggled to push the sudden thoughts of what it would be like to make love to her out of his head, reminding himself she had a boyfriend back home and they were still in a great deal of danger.
“That should do it. You’re a little more presentable now.” She tossed him a towel.
Jessica could tell Jack was watching her as she combed out her hair and he finished drying off and brushing his teeth. He spit and rinsed and turned to her with a smile that made her heart leap. She could see mischief in his eyes as he stepped toward her and she thrust out her arm placing her hand in the middle of his bare chest to hold him back.