Read Online Out of the Shadows by Melanie Mitchell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melanie Mitchell
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squatting down to inspect one of the tires, and when he finished that task, he rose. She felt his eyes on her, and for some reason, her heart started to pound and her mouth went dry.
Ben frowned. “Where’s Mama Joe?”
“She needs to take care of things before she leaves tomorrow. She wants me to handle the delivery.” Leslie knew she sounded defensive. Did he think she wasn’t capable?
“Oh, right... So it’s just us?” He did not look pleased. He opened the passenger door and then stood back. She threw her bag inside, then reluctantly allowed him to assist her—she did not want to chance a repeat of her first attempt to climb into the plane. A short time later they were flying west toward the Great Rift Valley. The entire flight was made in silence.
* * *
T HE BIRTH WENT WELL . The baby boy weighed slightly more than seven pounds, quite large for a Kenyan infant. To avoid the common complication of neonatal tetanus, Leslie clamped the umbilical cord with a small plastic clip and cut it with a sterile pair of scissors, ignoring the ceremonial knife offered to her by the attending midwife. In broken but improving Swahili, she told the mother and midwife how to keep the cord area clean and to not put anything on it, specifically cow dung. She prayed silently that her instructions would be heeded.
Successful births were always uplifting, and, despite her fatigue, she was smiling as she left the tiny hut and stepped into the afternoon sunlight. Her good humor was dashed a little, though, because the first person she saw was Ben. With her bag in hand, she continued forward to the Jeep that had been provided by Father Christopher.
* * *
T HROUGHOUT THE DELIVERY , Ben had waited just outside the door, squatting in the shade with the anxious husband. After nearly five hours, he watched as Leslie walked to the borrowed Jeep. Her thick brown ponytail sagged, and all around her face, wisps of hair had escaped the confines of the cloth-covered rubber band. She was flushed with heat and fatigue, and her white cotton shirt was damp with perspiration; the tail was no longer neatly tucked into her waistband. He observed her rifling through her canvas bag to locate a bottle of water, which she used to wash her hands. Then she splashed some on a bandanna and wiped her face.
He felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Ben dreaded the flight home. He knew she didn’t like him and she hadn’t wanted to fly with him. He sighed and stood up. Glancing at his watch, he realized that it was midafternoon. She hadn’t eaten anything in hours.
Leslie didn’t hear Ben approach and startled a bit when he reached past her to open his olive canvas duffel bag. He drew out a clear pint-size bottle filled with amber liquid and a label indicating that it was some type of bourbon. He also found two candy bars and offered her one.
She took the proffered candy and murmured, “Thank you.” She glanced at the bottle disapprovingly and turned away to store her bags in the vehicle. Her irritation grew when she caught him grinning at her. She didn’t know if he was deliberately trying to aggravate her or if he simply did not care what she thought of him. Hoping that he would recognize her displeasure, she silently climbed into the Jeep and motioned for the driver, who was waiting nearby.
During the twenty-minute drive to the landing strip, Leslie and Ben didn’t talk. Ben spoke freely with the driver, however, and Leslie observed him take at least three drinks from the bottle. He even offered her a sip, which she frostily declined. She might have imagined it, but she thought he was enjoying her discomfort as she saw traces of humor in his eyes. That annoyed her even more.
They finally made it to the airstrip, and Leslie was anxious to be off before Ben drank more. She was gathering her bags and not watching where they were going when the driver brought the Jeep to an abrupt halt. He said something
Ben frowned. “Where’s Mama Joe?”
“She needs to take care of things before she leaves tomorrow. She wants me to handle the delivery.” Leslie knew she sounded defensive. Did he think she wasn’t capable?
“Oh, right... So it’s just us?” He did not look pleased. He opened the passenger door and then stood back. She threw her bag inside, then reluctantly allowed him to assist her—she did not want to chance a repeat of her first attempt to climb into the plane. A short time later they were flying west toward the Great Rift Valley. The entire flight was made in silence.
* * *
T HE BIRTH WENT WELL . The baby boy weighed slightly more than seven pounds, quite large for a Kenyan infant. To avoid the common complication of neonatal tetanus, Leslie clamped the umbilical cord with a small plastic clip and cut it with a sterile pair of scissors, ignoring the ceremonial knife offered to her by the attending midwife. In broken but improving Swahili, she told the mother and midwife how to keep the cord area clean and to not put anything on it, specifically cow dung. She prayed silently that her instructions would be heeded.
Successful births were always uplifting, and, despite her fatigue, she was smiling as she left the tiny hut and stepped into the afternoon sunlight. Her good humor was dashed a little, though, because the first person she saw was Ben. With her bag in hand, she continued forward to the Jeep that had been provided by Father Christopher.
* * *
T HROUGHOUT THE DELIVERY , Ben had waited just outside the door, squatting in the shade with the anxious husband. After nearly five hours, he watched as Leslie walked to the borrowed Jeep. Her thick brown ponytail sagged, and all around her face, wisps of hair had escaped the confines of the cloth-covered rubber band. She was flushed with heat and fatigue, and her white cotton shirt was damp with perspiration; the tail was no longer neatly tucked into her waistband. He observed her rifling through her canvas bag to locate a bottle of water, which she used to wash her hands. Then she splashed some on a bandanna and wiped her face.
He felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Ben dreaded the flight home. He knew she didn’t like him and she hadn’t wanted to fly with him. He sighed and stood up. Glancing at his watch, he realized that it was midafternoon. She hadn’t eaten anything in hours.
Leslie didn’t hear Ben approach and startled a bit when he reached past her to open his olive canvas duffel bag. He drew out a clear pint-size bottle filled with amber liquid and a label indicating that it was some type of bourbon. He also found two candy bars and offered her one.
She took the proffered candy and murmured, “Thank you.” She glanced at the bottle disapprovingly and turned away to store her bags in the vehicle. Her irritation grew when she caught him grinning at her. She didn’t know if he was deliberately trying to aggravate her or if he simply did not care what she thought of him. Hoping that he would recognize her displeasure, she silently climbed into the Jeep and motioned for the driver, who was waiting nearby.
During the twenty-minute drive to the landing strip, Leslie and Ben didn’t talk. Ben spoke freely with the driver, however, and Leslie observed him take at least three drinks from the bottle. He even offered her a sip, which she frostily declined. She might have imagined it, but she thought he was enjoying her discomfort as she saw traces of humor in his eyes. That annoyed her even more.
They finally made it to the airstrip, and Leslie was anxious to be off before Ben drank more. She was gathering her bags and not watching where they were going when the driver brought the Jeep to an abrupt halt. He said something
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