The Marine's Return Read online

  This had been Tony’s dream—to complete his service as a marine medic then return to his father’s native Kenya to set up a clinic and provide medical care to tribal villages that were in dire need. After he’d told her about visiting his grandmother at a Masai village, Lexi had understood his vision. She’d assured him she’d wanted to be part of it and they’d had their future here all planned out. Living in Kenya would be a fresh start for her...a way to leave the past behind and build a future with family.

  They were supposed to be here, in Kenya’s wild west, working side by side. And even though Tony had died, there was no way she could let that dream die. Being here honored him. Being here was the only way she knew how to stay strong. And for all the broken promises she’d suffered in her life, she would never break the one she’d whispered to him moments before he was gone—that she would find a way to fulfill their dream to bring medical care to the Masai and other tribes. She’d do it for him. She’d do it for the only family she’d ever had.

  She picked up a small box of supplies off the table and headed for the storage room built against the side of their bungalow. They always had the exam tent on the other side of the clinic camp stocked, but there wasn’t enough room there to store all their supplies.

  “I finished the inventory,” her assistant, Jacey, said, knotting her long dark hair at the nape of her neck. “We need more alcohol wipes and gauze bandages. Everything else is good for now. I don’t know where all these supplies went, though. I could have sworn we had more, but I guess between all the clinics we held this week and yesterday’s trip, we used more than anticipated. I’ll restock in here first thing in the morning.”

  Lexi was lucky to have Jacey, who had been working as a tech assistant out here at least three to four months before Lexi signed on.

  “Makes sense. Thanks for making a list. What would I do without you? I’ll add them to the order this evening. I need to eat first,” Lexi said.

  Lexi set the box she was carrying on an empty spot and headed back to the folding table where she’d been vaccinating kids. Jacey followed her out to the central, courtyard-like clearing where they held outdoor clinics, and grabbed another box off of the table. Lexi picked up the hard, plastic, biohazard container carrying discarded needles, then returned to the storage room.

  “How are you holding up?” Jacey pulled a key out from around her neck and locked the dented metal cabinet that housed their vaccine and antibiotic vials, HIV screening supplies and prescription pills for most of the conditions they encountered. Less expensive supplies, such as bandages, were kept in a separate cabinet, unlocked because it didn’t come with one, but secure enough to keep dust and insects out of it. Besides, they always locked the storage room door, too. The only place some things weren’t secured was in the exam tent, but they were always in and out of it and it was easily seen from the bungalow across the clearing. Lexi set the biohazard container down.

  In the grand scheme of things, they had meager supplies considering the number of people they saw in a day. Inadequate supplies, really, given the conditions she was treating. The fact that they couldn’t do more for some of the tribal children and their parents ate away at Lexi every night.

  It roused memories of when one of her foster “sisters,” a girl five years younger, had come down with a fever, yet instead of using the foster check to buy medicine or to pay for a doctor’s visit or even to make soup, their foster mom had simply given her acetaminophen and told her to stay in bed. Had it not been for Lexi caring for the little girl, no one would have comforted her, given her cold cloths or gotten up at night to check on her.

  But medicine itself had limits, too. Doctors and nurses hadn’t been able to do more for Tony, either, and he’d had access to state-of-the-art medicine and the best care possible. The burns and shrapnel wounds had been more than Tony’s body could handle.

  “I’m okay. Could use food and a nap, though,” she said, as Jacey followed her back outside. “Where’s Taj?”

  Taj, a medical resident, came out to the clinic most weekends and was always willing to help out in any capacity. With only three of them on staff, even the most menial duties were shared. Right now, Lexi needed him to take down the temporary canopy they’d used for shade. She knew better than to try to take it down herself. At this point in her pregnancy, into her thirty-fifth week, balance and coordination were not her forte. Besides, it was more weight than she was willing to risk carrying. Her baby came first.

  “Taj will be here in a sec. He’s still in the exam tent, finishing up with the older fellow with the abscess on his foot. You can wash up. We’re basically done,” Jacey said.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I am. Go on. We’ve got this. I’ll help him take down the canopy, too.”

  Lexi squeezed Jacey’s shoulder and smiled her thanks as she dragged her feet to the bungalow that served as their living quarters. She lumbered up the three steps to the bungalow’s front porch, ducked inside to grab a bottle of water, then headed back out onto their narrow front porch. She collapsed onto one of the wicker chairs. There was more of a breeze out here than inside. Plus, she liked closing her eyes and listening to the sounds of Africa. The trumpeting, roars, high-pitched calls and rumbles all made her feel at home. It was a natural lullaby. It made up for the rustic and outdated living quarters.

  The small plaster-and-clay bungalow they lived in had two tiny, dorm-size rooms with cots for sleeping, a kitchenette and the main sitting room—still small—where clinic records were stored in a file cabinet against the wall. Jacey and Lexi shared one room and either the clinic’s founding doctor, Hope Alwanga, or Taj used the other, depending on who was covering the weekend.

  As a medical resident, Taj took care of anything Lexi wasn’t licensed to do at the clinic. But he had obligations back in Nairobi where he was finishing up his hospital residency. He tried to make it out to the rural clinic as much as possible because giving back to the communities where he grew up was important to him.

  He was a lot like Tony in that respect. Lexi loved that about him. Both men were reminders that there were good people in the world. She took the fact that Taj’s goals mirrored Tony’s as a sign that she was on the right path. That she belonged here even if she was technically an outsider. Tony had been her only family, which made this land a part of her through love and marriage and a part of their child through blood. She felt more rooted to this place than she’d ever felt anywhere in her life. She felt accepted.

  She took another swig of water and pushed her short hair off of her forehead.

  Even Hope Alwanga had taken her under her wing, making sure that Lexi had good prenatal care. Hope used to make it out here herself more often, but she was also running a pediatric practice in Nairobi and venturing out with a separate mobile medical unit to as many rural areas as she could.

  Most people out here knew “Dr. Hope.” Many of them hadn’t seen a doctor before Hope had established her mobile clinic program for the Masai Mara and surrounding areas decades ago. Being of Luo decent and passionate about helping children, Hope had wanted to give back, as well. It was as if Lexi had finally met kindred spirits.

  Hope had told Lexi that this static clinic was only a few years old, yet the staff turnaround had been high. Living out here wasn’t for the average person, but Lexi had never considered herself average. Given her past, she’d always felt a bit like a nomad, so the move from America hadn’t fazed her at all.

  When she’d seen the online ad for a registered nurse willing to live and work in rural Kenya, she responded immediately. The timing had been perfect. She’d still been numb from burying Tony and, to top it off, she’d discovered she was pregnant. The news had been a bittersweet gift she’d never gotten to share with him.

  As far as Lexi was concerned, the job posting had been a sign. It was as if Tony had been opening a door...nudging her to pursue their dream instead of l
osing herself in mourning.

  She’d answered the ad and Hope had responded. The two women had instantly bonded. Hope’s son—also a marine—had been injured during a mission only a week before the attack on Tony’s field hospital. And it was Hope that made the connection between the two men. Her son, Chad, was the friend Tony had grown up with, the one who hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding.

  She touched her belly. The thought of losing one’s child... She shuddered. This was why she hated sitting around and resting, even if she needed to. It gave her idle time to think and her thoughts, more often than not, only reminded her of what she’d lost.

  Hope was lucky her son had survived. Injured, yes, though she hadn’t divulged all the details of Chad’s injuries. But at least he’d survived. At least he had loving parents—a father who could understand what he’d been through and a mother who, as a doctor, could help him heal or at least make sure he was getting the care he needed.

  Since coming to the clinic, Lexi had met Hope’s daughter, a human rights lawyer who was well known for helping Kenya’s indigenous tribes, and Hope’s younger sons, currently in college, but she’d never met Chad. He’d only recently returned to Kenya and, according to Hope, he was far from healed.

  Hope often lamented, with all the love and anguish of a mother, that Chad was the most stubborn, impossible patient she’d ever tried to work with. She’d been struggling to pull him out of a depression and to motivate him to resume therapy, physical and psychological, in Nairobi. But it was an uphill battle.

  Lexi couldn’t blame him after the trauma he’d suffered, but she also knew motivation had to come from within. A person had to want to survive all that life threw at them. They had to want to find a way to chase their goals, even if it meant taking a different path. She’d heard of individuals who, after being told they’d never walk again, had learned to not only walk but to dance. Unlike Tony, Chad still had his life ahead of him. She wouldn’t feel sorry for him if he chose to waste it.

  “I heard my name,” Taj said, stepping out from the exam tent. He paused to say goodbye to his last patient, a thin, lanky man whose cheekbones were framed by beaded loop earrings that reached his shoulders. The man gave a toothy smile and nodded his appreciation, then adjusted a red-and-orange shuka that was draped over his shoulder and headed down the dirt path for home.

  “You need help cleaning up in there?” Lexi asked, nodding her head at the tent, which stood about twenty meters across the clearing from the bungalow. Her legs didn’t want to move so she kind of hoped he didn’t.

  “No, I’ll get it. And this,” he said, grabbing the table Lexi had used to hold her vaccine trays. He folded the legs in and leaned the table against the peeling plaster of the clinic wall. “I’ll put that away in a second. Jacey can help me with the rest. Sitting there isn’t enough. You need to raise your legs. You should go lie down before your feet swell to the size of an elephant’s. I still think you should come back to Nairobi with me and let Dr. Hope find someone else to staff this place.”

  “Not happening. I’m fine here. It’s good for me. Being sedentary while pregnant isn’t. But I’ll take you up on raising my feet. I’ll be inside. Oh, and if someone can get their hands on some chocolate-chip ice cream and potato chips in the next five minutes, my hormones will love you.”

  “Good luck with that.” Jacey chuckled as she helped Taj pull the legs of the canopy out from the dry, red earth.

  “I’ll have to bring you a cooler on my next trip over so we can stock some ice cream for you,” Taj said. They had a small freezer, but they needed it for ice packs and healthy foods. Not junk food. Besides, there was no room left in it.

  “I would worship you if you did that,” Lexi teased.

  He did have that ancient godlike look to him. Tall, dark and muscular with a sincere yet dazzling smile. Jacey had most definitely noticed. The poor thing was almost too careful not to steal glances, but the way her cheeks flushed whenever she and Taj talked casually over work, gave her away.

  She also got annoyed with Taj quite a bit. The blushing and bickering were a dead giveaway that the two were engaged in some sort of primal courtship ritual.

  Jacey didn’t like wearing her emotions on her sleeve any more than Taj did, but Lexi was convinced her two staffers liked each other. As a nurse, Lexi was well trained in how to read faces and body language. Sometimes people were too stoic for their own good...or too stubborn.

  “You better share that ice cream,” Jacey said. Lexi chuckled and shook her head.

  “I can’t make that promise. He’ll have to bring you your own tub. Although sharing would save me some calories. I’m probably lucky I can’t have ice cream and chips on a daily basis out here. I’d be huge.” Lexi pressed her palm to her lower back. “Thanks, you two, for finishing up here. I’m going inside.”

  “Sure thing,” Jacey said over her shoulder.

  Lexi wasn’t sure what was worse, the intense pregnancy cravings or the constant aches. She slipped into their mini kitchen, grabbed some cheese from their small, generator-run fridge and a banana off of the counter, then sat in a chair and propped her feet up on an empty supply box. She rubbed a hand across her belly, stopping when she felt a small kick. She lifted her T-shirt and smiled at the little bump on the left side of her belly.

  “You too, huh?” she said, tracing her finger where the baby was nudging her. She had no idea if it was a boy or a girl. She still didn’t want to know. As undeniably real as her pregnancy was at the time of her ultrasound, somehow the more she learned about her baby—their baby—the more it hit home that Tony would never share the experience with her. That she was alone in this. That he’d died not even knowing she was pregnant. God, she hadn’t even realized herself. She’d assumed the light-headedness and nausea were due to being overwhelmed by all that had happened.

  Her body jolted at the memory of the twenty-one-gun salute piercing the air at Tony’s funeral. The baby kicked back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, placing her palm against what looked like a tiny foot, until the little one calmed down. She pulled the end of her T-shirt down and dabbed her eyes, then took a deep breath. Was she being stupid? Was Taj right about getting a replacement? She had another OB-GYN appointment in Nairobi in just under two weeks. So far so good. Everyone was coaxing her to quit this job for the baby’s sake but she didn’t see it that way. This was home now. She needed to be here.

  Man, it was hot today. She leaned her head back against the wall and pushed her side-swept, pixie-cut bangs off her forehead. She’d donated all twenty inches of her silky black locks before moving to Kenya.

  She still wasn’t sure what had spurred her to cut it all off. On one hand, she’d wanted to help someone else since she had been feeling so helpless herself after Tony’s loss. But there had been practical reasons, too, given the rugged lifestyle she’d signed up for. And maybe subconsciously she’d been symbolically cutting ties to the past so that she could move forward to the future she and Tony had planned.

  It was just her future, now. Hers and the baby’s.

  What had she been thinking, falling for a marine? She’d reassured herself that he was a field hospital doctor, not a special missions guy. He’d been in Afghanistan to help the wounded, not to get wounded himself. Hospitals were supposed to have some level of protection. They weren’t supposed to be targets. But that hadn’t stopped him from being killed.

  That attack had come from out of nowhere. Her throat tightened.

  The baby did something akin to a summersault then lodged itself under her rib cage and stretched. Lexi let out a yelp and contorted sideways in her chair to try to accommodate the sudden move.

  “You okay?” Jacey came running in but stopped and scrunched her face when she spotted Lexi. “Ew. That looks painful.”

  “Looks painful?” Lexi gasped and held another breath. “I don’t think I’m carrying
a human child. I’m convinced he or she is part alien or antelope...make that giraffe.” She tried nudging the little one away from her ribs. It didn’t work.

  “You look like an alien is about to pop out of you,” Jacey said, kneeling next to her and patting Lexi’s protrusion. “Like in that old horror movie.”

  “Thanks. That’s so comforting. Especially since I avoid horror movies like the plague. Does feel like the baby is going to pop out, though. I seriously hope he or she knows that up isn’t the way out.”

  Jacey plopped onto her bottom, laughing, and crossed her legs. The baby shifted to a more normal position and Lexi let out a breath of relief.

  “See?” Jacey said. “She settles down when I laugh. It happened last time, too. I’m already a good Auntie Jacey.”

  Jacey was right. Laughter seemed to calm the baby, while Lexi getting anxious and thinking about the past seemed to make the baby irritable.

  “Why do you keep saying ‘she’?”

  “Just a gut feeling. Plus, it’s easier than saying ‘he or she’ every time, and nicer than calling her ‘it.’ ‘It’ kind of emphasizes the creepy alien-with-human-host factor.”

  “Got it, Auntie. Promise me your bedtime stories will conjure up less freaky images in her mind.”

  “You still sure you don’t want to spend the rest of your pregnancy in Nairobi before the rainy season hits? Or even head back to the US?”

  “No. We’ve been through this. Plenty of people have raised kids out here and I’m not talking just the Masai and other tribes. You heard the story Hope told us about the vet who founded Busara. She raised her little girl out there when the camp was far, far more rustic than what we have here. And Mac and his wife have an adopted child and they live in a remote eco-camp. The point being, if others have done it, so can I.”

  Mac Walker was a bush pilot originally from South Africa but who had lived in Kenya’s Serengeti region most of his adult life. He’d eventually become part owner of an eco-tourist camp—Camp Jamba-Walker—but still devoted flight hours to helping wildlife rescues and the Kenyan Wildlife Service with surveillance and reports of suspicious poaching activity in the area.