CHAPTER ONE
Emmeline France ran the threadbare towel across her forehead, stopping the rivulets of sweat from dripping into her eyes. New drops beaded up along her hairline. The heat of the West African summer was unrelenting and she stared up at the slow-turning aluminum ceiling fans.Move the air, you useless pieces of metal.
“Anuli, how many patients are waiting?” The sip of room temperature water did little to cool her down. She grimaced, sick of drinking water. God, she’d pay good money for an iced latte.
“Three, Miss Emme. I think one about to have the baby.” Although Anuli’s thick, lyrical French and Bambara accent sounded as tired as she looked, she seemed unaffected by the heat.
Emme looked at the clock on the dingy wall. Why did it feel like she’d jammed twenty hours into the last twelve? Go to Africa, they said. It’ll be rewarding, they said. It was. But it was also hot, dusty, and incredibly frustrating.
Sometimes it sucked being the only clinic for miles that catered to women and children. “Okay. Take her to room four and get her comfortable. Is she here by herself?”
“Yes.”
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Close the front door before you take her back. We’ll call it a day after these last few.”
Pushing to her feet, she braced her hands on her hips and twisted at the waist to crack her lower back. Three more patients and then she could put on some shorts and read a book. Hopefully, she’d stay awake through a full chapter this time.
She walked down the short hall to the waiting room and asked for the next patient. She led the young girl accompanied by an Auntie, an older woman from her village, to one of the exam rooms.
“How are you today?”
“I am good,” the girl said.
“My name is Emme. What’s yours?”
“Mariam.” She sat still on the end of the table, her hands folded in her lap while her Auntie stood next to her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mariam. How can I help you today?”
“I think I am pregnant.” Her happiness shone through in her wide smile.
She pulled the stethoscope from around her neck. “How old are you Mariam?”
“Fifteen.”
Emme plastered on a smile and died a little inside.She’s too young to be a mother.“I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs and then we’ll do a simple pregnancy test, okay?” The girl nodded and sat up straighter.
She set the stethoscope in her ears and placed the end against the girl’s chest. Even after six months in Mali, it bothered her. It didn’t matter that the government had made child marriages illegal, tribal culture held more sway in this part of the country.
Shouts erupted from the waiting room. Confused, she pulled the stethoscope from her ears and poked her head out of the curtained-off room. Four armed men rounded the corner, shouting in a mix of French and Tuareg.
What the hell was going on? She stepped out of the room. “You can’t be here.Vous ne pouvez pas être ici.” They advanced toward her and she held up her hands as if to push them back. “Please, this is a women’s clinic. Please leave.”
“Tais-toi! Salope!” One of the gunmen slammed the butt of his rifle into her temple. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Her legs gave out and she crumpled onto the hard, cracked linoleum floor. Pain shot through her shoulder, accompanied by a loud pop, when she hit. The edges of her vision blurred.
Dad is going to have a shit fit.Blackness closed around her.
