Gwen woke as the first rooster crowed. Through the small, square window in the room the sun was barely visible on the horizon. She heard movement in the building, the others already working. There was so much preparation to do before the villagers began to arrive.
She’d planned on waking earlier, but since she hadn’t been able to rest on the flight, she’d fallen into an exhausted, deep sleep as soon as she’d hit the foam mattress.
She blamed Derek for her inability to relax on the flight from the UK. Every time she’d close her eyes and start to doze off, she’d jerk awake expecting to find Derek standing in the aisle watching her again.
And every time she experienced a burst of disappointment when he wasn’t there.
Talk about unnerving.
Careful not to disturb a still-sleeping Joyce, she quickly dressed in faded jeans, a plain green T-shirt and her hiking boots. Nothing better than good footwear, regardless of the weather.
She savored the slight chill in the air because in a few hours the sun would rise fully, and this close to the equator the heat would be intense. She quickly lathered on sunscreen where her limbs were exposed. Unfolding a wide-brimmed cotton hat from her pack, she headed toward the room that they would be using as the main treatment room of the clinic.
Moses, Ethan and Ned were already setting up.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said. “Are Craig and Derek still sleeping?”
Ned shook his head. “Haven’t seen Derek. Craig’s checking on breakfast.”
“Okay,” she replied.
Today she’d let Derek and Joyce sleep in, but starting tomorrow they all would start early. She began unloading boxes of gauze, syringes, alcohol swabs, bandages and various other products they might need to treat a mixture of symptoms and conditions that could arise from the living conditions and lack of resources available to this part of the world.
She directed the men where to arrange the long tables they’d acquired from a nearby school. This particular building had been built with the sole purpose of medical treatment.
Unfortunately, the charitable group that had erected the structure had had to leave due to financial constraints, abandoning the building.
Dr. Harper had bought the building and wanted to provide continuous care, but finding staff to stay for more than a few weeks at a time had proved difficult. He allowed other charitable organizations use of the facility whenever possible.
Gwen set up the clinic the way Dr. Harper had taught her, placing an administrative desk near the door where the patients would check in before coming to see Gwen who would determine the nature of their illness. Depending on the complaint, the patients would be funneled to either Joyce, if the patient was a child or teen, or Craig, for adults with non-life threatening ailments. Ned would do any sort of surgical procedures that didn’t require more than localized anesthesia.
Joyce wandered out of the back room, looking groggy in her cotton drawstring cropped pants and pullover shirt. Her short dark curls stuck out in all directions. “Coffee?”
“Go see Craig in the kitchen,” Gwen replied, hoping Craig had found the supply of coffee in the food bag they’d brought and set a pot to brewing.
Derek came out a short while later, dressed in lightweight running shorts, a white T-shirt with a sport logo emblazoned across the front and worn running shoes. His wiry, muscled legs and lean torso showed the effects of his training. He looked every inch the runner, not someone ready to help with a medical clinic.
Gwen narrowed her gaze. Using her best Sunday school teacher voice, she said, “Hey, Harper. We could use your help here.”
Appearing not the least repentant, he shrugged. “Sure. What are we doing?”
She explained the logistics of the clinic, stressing the humanitarian aspects whenever possible, and directed him to help Moses stack the appropriate supplies in the right places.
Craig came through the front door. He grinned as he said, “Breakfast, anyone?”
They all filed out of the clinic. Children of various ages and sizes ran about. Several sat in the dirt eating with their fingers from bowls of porridge or Matoke. Smiling faces, but their potbellies showed they were malnourished. Gwen’s heart squeezed. She knew many would never reach adulthood and for those that did, few would live to be old and gray.
“Wow, I didn’t expect all these kids,” Derek commented as he dodged a running child.
“Most of these children are orphans living with either family members or with other families who’ve taken them in,” Joyce explained.
“Why so many orphans?” Derek asked, his gaze meeting Gwen’s.
She replied, “Between illness, poor living conditions and war, many adults don’t live very long.”
“How many people live in these…houses?” he asked, indicating the many round, mud-sided huts.
“It depends. I’ve seen as many as twenty living together or as few as two or three,” Gwen answered and noticed the pensive shadow in Derek’s gaze.
They approached a small concrete-and-brick building with a corrugated tin roof. Smoke seeped from cracks in the bricks and out the windows. They stepped inside, blinking against the sting of smoke from the fire pits. Several village women sat on the dirt floor peeling and cutting green bananas.
A chorus of voices called out to them, “Jambo!”
At Derek’s questioning glance she explained, “Swahili for ‘hello, welcome.’”
“This is the kitchen?” Derek whispered in her ear, his lip twitching upward in a grimace.
Gwen remembered the same astonishment the first time she’d seen the open fires with the large black kettles suspended over the flames. The wood burned down to charcoal, which was reused. The whole scene was reminiscent of the 1800s. But this was modern compared to smaller, less Westernized villages in the bush.
They were served Matoke, steamed mashed bananas, in large clay bowls. Derek took a clay mug full of steaming coffee, as well.
Derek brought his bowl and sat down next to Gwen on a stone bench. All around them activity started as the villagers began to wander close, curious to see the foreigners. A layer of dirt covered everything. Low-lying palm trees and dense bushes surrounded the brick-and-mud shops and houses.
Men on bicycles rode by laden with sugarcane or bushels of bananas. Boda-boda—as the bicycle transportation was called—was the main means of travel besides walking in the bush. Gwen thought about donating her bicycle to the village when she returned home since she rarely used it.
Derek took a bite of his food. “This is interesting. Will this be breakfast everyday?”
“Probably,” she replied, thinking how at one time in her life she’d have done just about anything for some food.
“Good thing I like bananas,” he commented with a gleam in his green gaze, before taking another big bite.
“Food here is simple. Used for fuel, not comfort.”
“Fuel is what I’ll need.” He finished off his portion, set his bowl aside and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. The playful light left his gaze. “Gwen, there’s something we need to discuss.”
Figuring he was concerned about his role in the clinic, she said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to keep you busy.”
“About that. I don’t see what my presence here is going to accomplish. Without my dad here to shadow, I’m going to be in the way.”
Secretly agreeing with that assessment, but remembering the promise she’d made and the enormity of his father’s wish, she shook her head. “There’s still plenty for you to learn. Even if you’re only observing at times, you’ll get a better understanding of the work and that understanding will help you when we get back to the States.”
“True.” His green eyes stared off in the distance.
She studied his profile. What could be going through his mind? He was a man used to being in charge, to running the show. To winning. Here, he was only to observe and help in minor ways. She couldn’t imagine that would be easy for him.
Finally, he spoke. “I have to be straight with you, though. My dad and I had a deal.”
A sensation of foreboding flashed across her skin. “A deal?”
He turned to look at her, his green eyes troubled but determined. “We…I have—”
“Hey, you two,” Joyce called from the edge of the main building. “We have people already lining up. You want to come help?”
Gwen automatically stood, but the frustration in Derek’s expression stopped her from moving. “Can we finish this tonight?”
He grinned but his gaze grew rueful. “Of course.”
They started walking toward the clinic.
“I need to go for a run before the sun gets too high.”
She stopped. “No.”
He raised his brows. “Excuse me?”
“I know you’re a runner and you like to keep in shape, but—”
He widened his stance, a determined light in his gaze. “I won’t be gone more than forty minutes.”
“Fine. Run circles around the building if you want, but you’re not leaving the village.”
“Whoa. I know Dad put you in charge, but you’re taking this a bit far.”
Pulling in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she tried to make him understand. “We are in the bush of Africa. You can’t just go running off. It’s too dangerous. You could get hurt.”
A small, charming smile played at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t realize you cared, Yates.”
She ignored the little bump in her heart rate his smile caused and glared at him. “You are my responsibility.”
“I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself.”
She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t about your ego. This is about safety. Most Africans haven’t seen a Caucasian before. If you go running through their front yards, they’re going to freak out. Then there are the wild animals to consider and the civil war that’s taking place.”
“I thought you said you weren’t worried about the civil war?”
She hated when her words came back to bite her. “I’m not. We have an emergency plan. Besides, I’m sure we’re safe as long as we stay within the village and don’t venture too close to the borders.”
He shrugged. “I’ll stay on the road. I need to keep up my training and that requires long-distance running to keep my heart as well as my muscles in shape.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “No.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
Men! Were they all so stubborn? Short of tying him down, she couldn’t stop him. Her blood pounded behind her eyes. “Fine. Just let me find someone to go with you.”
His dark blond brows drew together. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
No, he had her for that job. She made a face and stalked back to the clinic. A dozen people ranging in ages from a newborn infant to an elderly couple had already formed a line at the door. Her chest squeezed at the sight. She wanted to get on with the work, not deal with Derek Harper.
She found Moses, told him what she needed.
“I know just the person,” he said and left the clinic.
Gwen went back outside. Derek stood under a yellow bark fever tree stretching. There was a tingling in the pit of her stomach as she watched his muscles bunch and flex. He really was a good-looking man, all lean and fit.
A few minutes later, Moses returned with a tall, lanky youth with solemn brown eyes. She guessed him to be around eighteen or nineteen at the most.
“This is Tito. He’ll go with Dr. Harper’s son,” Moses said.
“Derek,” Gwen called.
He jogged over, his eyes searching her face.
“Here’s your escort. Tito,” she said as she tried not to sink into Derek’s gaze.
An amused glint reflected in the emerald of his eyes. “Great.”
He turned to the boy and stuck out his hand. “Tito, I’m Derek.”
They shook hands and then they set off, their long legs eating up the ground. One powerful man and one in training, striding through the dust of Africa. One light skinned, one dark skinned. Both very different, yet the same in God’s eyes.
Gwen’s heart thudded in her chest as she watched the two disappear into the bush.
Oh, Father, please bring them back safely.
She’d never forgive herself if something happened to Derek, and it had nothing to do with disappointing the good doctor.
“Moses, Tito isn’t Ugandan, is he?”
“No. He is Kenyan.”
“What’s he doing here?” She started toward the clinic building.
“He came for the race.”
Gwen froze. Distrust and dismay converged in her veins. “Race?”
Legs pumping and lungs expanding to draw a dusty breath, Derek pushed himself, forcing his muscles to feel the burn. Amazingly, Tito kept pace, his long, thin legs matching Derek stride for stride. Respect for the young man grew with each mile.
Side by side they ran down a level dirt path that cut through dense foliage. Palm trees shorter than the average man, bushes with big, deep green leaves and tall yellowing grass were a blur of color. The heat of the sun grew more intense with each fleeting moment. Tomorrow he’d have to start out earlier.
Clocking their progress with his runner’s watch, Derek calculated the time into miles. They closed in on five miles relatively quickly. Not bad, considering he’d spent the last two days squashed in an airplane.
A mud-sided house with a thatched roof became visible in a clearing as the trail rounded a bend. In front of the dwelling stood a tall structure made of red bricks encased in mud and seeping with smoke. The shape of it reminded Derek of a beehive.
Nearby a child sat beneath a palm tree. His little brown body was bare except for what amounted to a loincloth. He rose at the sight of them, his brown eyes wide, scared. “Muzungu!”
The boy bolted around the back of the house.
“What does that mean?” Derek asked as they left the place behind.
Tito flashed him a toothy grin. “White man.”
Gwen’s words rang through Derek’s brain. They see you running through their front yards, they’ll freak out.
Derek hadn’t really thought that through. He’d traveled to a wide variety of places, mostly commercial and recreational spots, but he’d never been the minority before. It was a strange feeling to know his presence was viewed with fear. He didn’t like it.
“Tito, what was that place?”
“Brick makers.”
Interesting. He’d never given any thought to how bricks were made. Were they made the same way in America?
“We will go through here and head back now,” Tito said as he veered off the main path and onto a more narrow, hilly trail. They squeezed together, their steps nearly matching.
“You run well,” Derek commented. The boy should be a professional.
“Thank you. You, too. For a Muzungu.” Tito flashed his grin again.
“Yeah, well.” Derek returned a grin. “Where are you from?” Tito seemed so much taller and leaner than the Ugandans he’d met.
“Kenya.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Running.”
Derek slanted him a glance. “You’re in Uganda to run?”
Tito nodded.
“The marathon next week,” Derek stated in comprehension. Little wonder the youth had no trouble with the grueling pace.
“I will win.”
“You can dream,” Derek shot back with a grin of his own.
Tito let loose a deep laugh.
The pace quickened slightly. Two runners vying for dominance, trying to outrun the other. Derek enjoyed the burst of adrenaline gushing through his veins.
Suddenly, Tito grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to an abrupt stop.
“What…?”
Then Derek saw why they’d stopped. Up ahead, a large, black monkey stood in the middle of the path on all fours. Derek blinked. His heart thudded as his adrenaline rush turned to fear. Every instinct screamed turn and run. He prepared his body to do just that.
“Stay,” Tito hissed from the side of his mouth.
The monkey rose to its hind feet and spread its arms wide, making itself look bigger. As if it could scare Derek more than it already did. Black eyes stared at them daring them to challenge him for dominance.
The animal bared its yellowed, sharp teeth and a low rumble emanated from its massive chest. The birds in the trees silenced and the very air seemed to still as if the world understood the dangers of this creature.
Movement from the bushes drew Derek’s attention. More monkeys appeared, smaller versions of the bigger one. Their eyes darted toward the intruders.
Unlike the big one, these didn’t bare their teeth or show any challenging actions. They darted across the path behind their menacing guardian and vanished into the thick underbrush.
As soon as the last one disappeared, the big one dropped back to all fours and hurried after the others.
For what seemed an eternity, Derek stood frozen with Tito’s hand still clutching his arm.
Finally, Tito dropped his hand. “It’s safe now. They rarely turn back.”
“That happens often?”
“Most days they pass through,” Tito said.
“I’ve never seen anything like that. What were they? Gorillas? Baboons?”
“A Bonobo family. Welcome to Africa,” Tito answered as he began to run.
Derek fell into step with him, but his attention stayed on the spot in the bushes where the Bonobo monkeys had entered. In case Tito was wrong and the animals decided to come after them, he wanted a few seconds head start.
Not that he had any illusions that he could outrun a wild monkey, but he’d sure give it a shot if he had to.
“Will we encounter any other wild beasts?”
Tito shrugged. “Hard to say. Most are in the reserves but occasionally a cat will escape. Have to watch for snakes or rodents.”
“Poisonous snakes?” He glanced at the dry grasses and moved farther to the center of the trail.
“Some. They rarely bother humans unless you trample through their territory.”
“Don’t the snakes eat the rats?”
“Our rats are big and huge with inch-long teeth,” Tito said, demonstrating with his hands.
Derek saw the glint of mirth in Tito’s dark eyes. “Yeah, right.”
Tito laughed. “The rats carry disease and fleas. But the most dangerous creatures are the poachers.”
“Poachers?”
Tito shrugged. “Big money in animal parts. The nearest reserve is miles away, so you need not worry.”
“Great.”
Wouldn’t you know it? Gwen was right when she’d said it was dangerous out here. He was glad she’d insisted on sending Tito with him, though he wouldn’t tell her that. Better to keep an adversarial barrier in their relationship.
He could imagine the expression on her face if he told her about the Bonobos. Probably wisest to keep that tidbit of adventure to himself, as well. He didn’t want to give her any leverage over him.