“She hasn’t said much of anything since it happened. Look, I wish I could help. We weren’t close, but she was nice, and she didn’t deserve what they did to her. If she calls, I’ll tell her you were out of contact until today. But all I can tell you to do is contact her sister.”
Mumbling a weak “thank you,” I hang up and sink down onto the floor, my head in my hands. What if I’ve lost her for good? Shit. She was right. I didn’t trust her with my pain, and now we might be done for.
Four days later, I’m back in San Diego, knocking on her sister’s door. Gerry’s face hardens when she peers out at me through the gap in the chain. “You have some nerve.”
As she starts to shut the door, I wedge my foot in the gap. “Within an hour of getting Joey’s letter, I was in my CO’s office begging for the next flight back to the States. I’ve been deployed on a mission for more than five weeks. I never would have abandoned her. I love her. Please, tell me where she is. I have to explain why I didn’t come when she needed me.”
Gerry’s eyes soften, and she presses her lips together as she nods. Withdrawing my foot, I wait for her to close the door a bit and unhook the chain. Ten years older than Joey, she could be her twin, if not for the slight lines around her eyes and the much darker hair.
“Come on in, Ford. We need to have a little chat.”
I lurch back to my apartment, the bottle of bourbon half empty and dangling from my fingers. Joey took a leave of absence from med school. When she moved out of her apartment, she wouldn’t give her sister her new address. She won’t talk to anyone—not her family, not her friends, and certainly not me. Not even when her sister called her and started to explain where I’d been.
“He didn’t know—”
“I can’t do this, Gerry. I just…can’t.”
Her voice sounded so weak. Afraid. And I don’t know what to do besides down another healthy gulp of bourbon and fall, face-first, into my bed.
Over the next month, I write her letter after letter. Gerry promised to deliver them. And every one comes back Return to Sender.
I’ve lost her. And what’s worse? All her pain, all her suffering…it’s on me. Because I couldn’t let her in.
1
Present Day
Joey
A hint of a breeze stirs the flap on the tent door, and I sink down onto the cot, take off my sneakers, and rub my sore feet. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” I mutter. At forty-two, my joints don’t recover like they used to, and I miss my bed with its thick mattress and weighted blanket.
The buzz of the generator drones from the other side of the canvas wall, and Ivy flounces in, all twenty-one-years of boundless energy and optimism. The light in her eyes…I used to have that.
“Does this country ever cool down?” she asks as she strips off her t-shirt. Standing in front of the fan in a sports bra and her dark blue pants, she holds out her arms, sweat glistening on the tops of her rather large breasts.
Rolling my eyes, I sink back onto the thin pillow and pull the sheet up to my chest. “Get some sleep. We have an eight-hour drive tomorrow. Where’s Mia?”
“She’s chatting up Dr. Phillips. I think the two of them are a thing now.”
I don’t have the energy to roll my eyes again, so I close them and hope the third female member of our little team doesn’t make too much noise when she wanders in sometime around three in the morning.
“How do you sleep when it’s this hot?” Ivy asks.
“You learn.” I shouldn’t be so snippy with her. It’s not her fault Turkmenistan is in the middle of a heat wave. Or that she happened to sign up for a tour just as Doctors Without Borders was planning their first trip here in more than ten years. I crack one eye open to find her half-naked. “Put some clothes on, Ivy. We have to respect our host country’s culture.”
“But—”
Holding up my hand, I press my lips together for a moment to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret. She’s a good kid and a hard worker. But these conditions aren’t for everyone. “When we travel to other countries, we have to do our best to fit in. Otherwise, we might not be allowed back. Think of all the kids we vaccinated today. None of them would be protected. Cholera is one of the primary killers of children in Turkmenistan. Sixty kids. No, sixty-three.” I do the math in my head, and her eyes widen. “Sixty-three kids today who won’t die from a preventable disease. By the end of the week when we’re closer to Turkmenabat, our numbers will be close to a thousand.”
Ivy grabs her long-sleeved scrubs top and pulls it over her head. Her pants go back on next. “I’m sorry, Dr. Taylor. You’re right.”
“Joey.” I sink back down and roll over. “As for how to sleep? Put on fresh socks. You’d be amazed how much cooler your feet feel.”
As Ivy rustles about across the tent, I reach for the chain around my neck, pulling the ring from its hiding place between my breasts. I’ve worn it around my neck every day for twenty years, and it’s become my touchstone. It’ll be dark soon. I don’t like the dark. Haven’t ever since…
When I close my eyes at night, I see the faces of the men who ruined me. Until I reach for my ring. And then…sometimes…I can see the man I used to love. The man I ran away from because I was too scared, too damaged, too afraid.
Tonight, I try to call up a good memory. Happier times. Before I ruined everything.
