Page 8 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
“No, he’s fine. My family looks out for him. He won’t even know I’m gone.”
“I’ll have to show him how many grapes I can catch in my mouth later,” she said. “That trick won me a hand-carved wooden flute from a snake charmer in Delhi.”
“Leave it to you to win a musical instrument by catching fruit,” he said dryly, trying not to imagine the snakes.
“Where are you two headed?” his cousin JillHale drawled as she rushed over from the dessert table. “Sneaking out?”
One of Jill’s twins, Mia, gurgled on the floor, crawling toward them like a small panther. Jill shoved her brownie into her mouth and snatched the little girl up.
“Going for a walk,” Andy said with a laugh, remembering the days when he’d had to watch Danny like a hawk. “See you later, cuz.”
She made a noise through her full mouth as Mia tugged on her red curls.
“Better make a break for it, or we’ll never get out,” Andy said, picking up his pace. “Do you want to grab another beer?”
“We’ll never make it,” Lucy said, shaking her head.
When they reached the front door, he opened it and made a melodramatic sprint down the sidewalk to the street. He did it to make her laugh, but he suddenly realized he was practically dragging her. Immediately stopping, he turned to face her. She was breathing hard, he realized. A short run shouldn’t do that to a normal adult system, but it would to an injured one. His gut tightened.
“Let’s walk to the park,” he said, giving her a moment to catch her breath.
Nodding, Lucy removed her arm from his and took off, saying nothing, which worried him even more. He followed her, walking slowly beside her. When they reached the park, he pointed to the bench by the swings.
“I bring Danny to this park a lot when the weather’s nice,” he commented when they were seated, surreptitiously scanning her face out of the corner of his eye. “We’re only a block away from my house.”
Her color was a ghastly gray, and while she wasn’tbreathing hard now, her pulse was still pounding visibly in her neck.
“Okay, Luce,” he said, folding his sweating hands in his lap. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? You’re sick, and you’re scaring me.”
“I amnotsick,” she immediately shot back, “so you have no reason to be scared. It’s the altitude. I appreciate your help in deflecting my mother’s efforts to stop me from getting my own place while I’m here, but you didn’t have to take me on a walk. I can take care of myself.”
He turned to face her again. There was fire in her eyes, and the gray pallor of her face was disappearing. So she wasn’t going to tell him after all. At least not willingly.
He nudged her with his shoulder like he used to do in school when she was angry. “How long have we been friends, Lucy? You need to tell me why you came home.”
She crossed her legs and stared straight ahead. “I already told you—and everyone else for that matter. I’m?—”
“Don’t bullshit me,” he said, edging closer until his knee brushed her leg. “I’m a doctor. I’m trained to tell when a body has been injured.”
When she remained silent, he proceeded to tick off the signs like he was writing them on a patient’s chart at the hospital. “Your clothes are hanging on you from a sudden loss in weight. Your face is pale, your cheeks look hollow, and your rigid posture is a sign you have pain somewhere in the body. And if that’s not enough, your heart rate increases from a simple activity like walking. So, let me ask again. How wereyouhurt?”
She rested her chin on her chest mulishly. “Can’t we just sit here quietly? Andy, I just traveled for two days. I’m exhausted.”
Her voice—usually so strong—quavered. Clearly, she was afraid to tell him. He thought back to how Moira had asked him if he was afraid to hear the truth. He was more than afraid now. He was terrified.
He took his friend’s hands in his and shook them so she’d look at him. Her green eyes finally did, and in them he saw a million agonies. He knew that look. He’d seen it in the mirror after Kim had died.
“Lucy,” he said softly, looking into her eyes, “talk to me.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and then she released a jagged exhale that sounded like it had been wrenched from her body. “Soldiers attacked the Congolese village I was visiting.” She gripped his hands so hard he could feel her bones. “They bombed it first—to kill as many people as they could—and then raided it on foot. One of the bombs exploded near me. It knocked me out.”
It took him a moment to process her words. A bomb? An attack on a village? Dear God. “Oh, Lucy,” he said helplessly, feeling her hands tremble in his.
“I can’t be sure if they thought I was dead or if they just left me alone because I’m a white journalist,” she continued in a monotone voice indicative of shock. He’d heard that same tone time and again in the emergency room at the hospital. “Sometimes there’s a strange code of conduct among soldiers. They don’t want to attract international media attention by unwittingly killing a journalist. It happens, of course, but usually it makes the news.”
He forced himself to swallow as his mind conjured up a scene out of a movie. Explosions. Smoke. Gunfire. People lying dead on the ground.
“How bad were your injuries?” He didn’t ask,Why didn’t you tell us?He knew.
