Page 12 of Emma's Element

Panji had indeed followed him everywhere. And Marcus had spent weeks looking after him until he could get Panji to some distant relatives. The poor boy had watched as his entire family was washed away. He had tried in vain to hold on to his little brother, but the force of the water had been too great. Despite the grief, Panji never lost his spark. He had been a joy to know. Marcus still kept in touch with him as often as he could. He was thriving with his relatives. New school. New town. He was happy.

“He sounds very special,” Emma remarked. Marcus nodded. He still got a little choked up when he thought about the boy.

Emma let go of his hand as they moved on to the next training site. He hadn’t realized she was still holding it; it was comfortable, natural. She was quiet as they walked.

“I’m curious why you didn’t tell the world what you did. Why do you never show people that side of you? I can only imagine what the additional notoriety could do for your image?your career. The media would eat that up.” There was something in her voice that caught his attention. The venom in her tone when she spat out the word media took him by surprise. She sounded like she despised famous people, which was strange since she’d never treated him with anything but kindness. Being in her presence had been refreshing, so unlike the piranhas that usually surrounded him. But the animosity in her voice had him questioning their budding friendship.

“You sound like my publicist,” he remarked dryly. “She’s very pushy when it comes to stuff like that and gets bitchy when I don’t do as she wants.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?”

He held a hand up to stop her from talking. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Inside, he was kicking himself. He didn’t mean to insinuate she was either pushy or a bitch. Especially when she was anything but that.

“I know,” she assured him. “I was just curious. Most people want the attention their good deeds get them. It’s human nature, I suppose.” Her voice turned sad, the tone drawing his gaze to her face. She was staring off into the distance as if lost in a memory. A sheen of tears momentarily covered her beautiful brown eyes before she pushed her shoulders back and continued walking.

He shook off his curiosity about her emotional reaction and rushed to catch up to her. “Notoriety is not why I did it. It’s not why I do any of my charity work. I’ve been extremely lucky with my career. It seems only right to give something back.”

She was quiet as she mulled that over. Marcus looked up at the crisp blue sky, breathing deeply. He smiled at the hints of strawberry and vanilla that reached his senses on the breeze. It was interesting how he now associated that aroma with nature and freedom, as well as the statuesque beauty beside him.

The sun took away the intensity of the chill February day, and after endless days of warm weather in LA, the cold was energizing. It did his Pennsylvania blood good. He took another deep breath, trying to clear his lungs of the LA smog. Refreshed and invigorated, he could enjoy staying here forever. But that was never going to happen. He’d have to leave soon to begin filming the next Titan installment.

Emma made a sound, drawing his attention. “What?”

“I think I’m beginning to understand you.” She stopped walking and grinned up at him, the sadness in her eyes suppressed. “I’m willing to bet you went to Indonesia because donating money wasn’t good enough.”

He smiled back. Very perceptive of her to figure that out. He shrugged his shoulders. “Ha! That’s it, isn’t it?” she cried.

“Maybe,” was all he was going to say.

She sobered, suddenly serious. “Well, I’m both glad you were able to help and sad for you for the things you must have seen.” She turned and continued to walk, not giving him a chance to respond.

They spent the rest of the afternoon touring more of the campus, but the sadness in her eyes stayed on his mind. He’d love to question her about it but knew their friendship wasn’t there yet.

She took him to the docks on the St. Joseph River and explained the boats that were moored there. The Rigid Inflatable Boats, or RIBs, were powerful vessels that could move through the water easily and with great speed. He would eventually learn the intricacies of water rescues during his training sessions.

Next, she took him to the edge of the woods, where they practiced searching for missing hikers, reading signs humans left behind, and tracking. Marcus looked forward to that exercise. To be able toseesigns of where someone had gone was intriguing.

Near the outside climbing wall lay the remains of the warehouse. When the ground thawed, they would begin construction on the new one. For the time being, they had erected temporary sheds to hold the supplies they were starting to build up again, thanks to his donation. He was pleased to see some of the results of his efforts. As soon as the warehouse was completed, their supplies would be back to full capacity. Marcus thought about his earlier conversation with Emma about the new technology that was constantly being developed. He’d have to make a note to talk to Graham about that.

They ended the tour in the barracks, which housed living quarters and a dining hall. Dorm-style rooms occupied the three upper floors, which allowed groups from out of town who may not have the funds to pay for a week of hotel rooms to participate in the training classes.

The ground floor consisted of the dining hall and the kitchen where he met Chef Layla. She was young for the way she acted with the Nighthawks. Mid-forties maybe. But she treated everyone like they were her grandchildren who didn’t eat enough. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a bun with her chef hat on top. Marcus was pleased she didn’t treat him like a celebrity; he was just another Nighthawk to her.

Since it was dinner time, Marcus joined the Nighthawks for Chef Layla’s specialty?Lasagna. It was one of the most enjoyable evenings he’d ever experienced. The Nighthawks were a close-knit group if the good-natured ribbing was any indication, including him in their ribald humor. Marcus felt as if he could finally be part of a great group of people. And yet, he knew his time with them was limited.

“We were trying to get this family out of their flooded-out home through their attic,” Finch was saying. “Cobwebs everywhere. Tin Man was already freaking out. He can’t stand spiders.” Everyone chuckled. “He had this little girl in his arms. She was . . . what . . . five or six?”

“She was about that,” Tin Man groaned, knowing exactly where this story was going.

“Suddenly, we heard this weird screech. We all looked back, and Tin Man was standing there frozen in place. A big, fat, hairy spider sat on his foot, looking right up at him.”

“Ugliest thing I ever saw,” Tin Man groused.

“He was about to flick the thing off his foot and stomp on it when the little girl cried out and threw herself out of his arms. She yelled at him to stop. ‘That’s Terri,’ she shouted, then knelt down in front of a frozen Tin Man and coaxed the thing into her hand. Turns out it was her pet tarantula.”

“Thing was bigger than her hand,” Tin Man remarked with a shudder. Everyone laughed again.

Finch continued with the story. “Poor Tin Man had to carry girl and spider out of there and into the boat.”

---