WEDNESDAY. COLOMBIA. 10 days until Christmas.

Duku “Duke” Kodjoe would give his left nut for a little horizontal time on a stationary surface. It didn’t even have to be a bed. He’d sleep on the floor.

“I wish we could see the rainforest while you’re here. And the Amazon. Maybe we can get away for a few days?” Val leaned into his personal space and peered out the window. Despite traveling for days, she still smelled like vanilla. Happiness.

“And bring the whole family?” He winked at her.

“And have to share you? Never.” She grinned back.

It was a joke, nothing more, and neither of them would take things further. On the one hand, he enjoyed their banter. On the other, it was incredibly frustrating to toe this line and never cross it.

“We’d probably have a whole busload of people with chickens.” She nodded her head at the wire cage of birds that had only recently stopped their screaming.

“They sound kind of like the guys.” Duke nudged her with his elbow and clucked.

“That’s one thing I’m glad to get a break of.” She pushed his elbow away.

“Is that how they sound to you sometimes?” He leaned against the side of the bus, the better to admire his traveling companion.

“Yeah. We should come up with a prank, make them think you aren’t coming back.”

Part of him didn’t want to leave, and they’d just gotten here. At home, he had to share Val’s company with the team, their hosts, her patients. Here he hoped to get some time just the two of them.

“What?” She glanced at him.

“Nothing.”

“Stop staring at me like that then.” Val stretched across his seat, her shoulder driving into his chest as she almost flattened her face against the glass. “Oh—look. You can kind of see the fins in the distance.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to trade seats?” He’d asked her half a dozen times since leaving Bogotá.

“No.” She glanced up at him, her eyes aglow with excitement. “You should get to see it all. Especially the view headed into town. It’s amazing. And sorry. I’ve just never been away for this long.”

“You could have visited.” I told you. Visiting before now wasn’t convenient for anyone. Dad retired, and they were moving out here to help with the bakery. Visiting now means a—”

“Do not tell me how long we have been traveling. Take pity on me. I am an old, old man.”

“Old my ass.”

“I’d like to be as old as your ass.”

Val snorted a laugh and slapped his shoulder.

Things were different when it was just the two of them. Maybe it was him and maybe it was her. He was hyper-conscious of the precarious position he was in, being attracted to Val and also being her boss. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have offered her the job so fast. But if he hadn’t, would she have stayed? Val was a skilled nurse with experience in combat and disaster situations. His human rights team needed someone like her with them when they waded in on behalf of the African Court to settle disputes in war torn areas.

Since joining the team, Val had become something like his personal confidant. He was the leader of their team, but she was a little removed from it as a medical provider. Besides, there was the language barrier to deal with. English was their only shared tongue, and not everyone his team spoke it. Which meant they could enjoy long, uninterrupted conversations on the road. Those were times he enjoyed. And then there were the off-weekends and break periods where he showed her his Africa.

“I wish I could describe to you how beautiful the village is at Christmas.” Val twisted to sit almost sideways, her knees jabbing into his thighs and her cheek resting on the head rest. Even squeezed into the safari Jeep hadn’t been this uncomfortable.

“Has anyone told you that you’re Christmas obsessed?” He remembered the first mention of it, a few weeks after they met and she joined their team.

“Me? Oh—you haven’t seen anything yet.” Val shook her head slowly. “All those decorations in Bogotá? That was nothing compared to the lights they turn on at sunset. No one does Christmas quite like we do.”

“Why the fascination?”

“Oh, God.” Val stared out of the window, her lower lip pinched between her teeth. “If I had to guess, it ties back into the church and our history with fighting. This is a season that gives people in Colombia hope when we stress peace over violence. When I was still in the city working at the hospital we saw fewer violent crimes during the holidays. Still a lot of injuries. December is basically a license to drink yourself stupid and do some crazy shit.”

“Like?” From her smile, he could guess that she knew these things from experience.

“I told you about Mis Aguinaldos?”

“Mees ahgeenaldos.” Duke could speak six languages, but Spanish wasn’t one of them. Yet. He was beginning to pick up some words, but not enough to be conversational. It was going to be an interesting holiday with only Val to talk to until Felix and Jackie arrived next week.

“Close.” Val patted his arm. “It’s this silly tradition that groups or friends—and in my case, my family—plays. We’ll decide which one we’re playing, then any time someone says Mis Aguinaldos, you have to do the thing. Sometimes it’s keeping a straw in your mouth, sometimes it’s not taking things people try to give you, not answering questions. We’re pretty tame, but there are some people that get...crazy.”

“What’s the point?” He twisted to face her, taking in the last, dying rays of the sun on her face while the bus rolled on, into the mountains toward their destination. If he could live in a moment, it would be one like this.

“Well, you get points and on Christmas Eve you announce a winner, and sometimes a punishment. My family won’t take it easy on you just because you don’t speak the language, by the way.”

“I think I can hold my own.” He grinned. “Who gets to decide the reward?”

“Abuela.”

“Don’t tell me.” He closed his eyes, digging back into his memories for a stolen moment under the stars when he’d caught Val after a call home. “That is your...grandmother?”

“Yes, though everyone has to call her Abuela. Even you.”

“What does your other grandmother think about that?”

“My mom’s parents were killed when I was very little.”

Duke winced and opened his mouth.

“Don’t be sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “It was a long, long time ago. They were poor, and the only job they could find was cooking for a group of guerilla soldiers. They were killed during a conflict with a paramilitary group. Colombia was a much more dangerous place then.”

Duke turned his hand over and wrapped his fingers around her palm. He wished he could offer her soothing words. It was easy when they were thrown into a situation to issue the stock words of comfort. She’d heard him console enough people that nothing he said would be new.

The sun dipped below the horizon, plunging them into a darkness broken only by the occasional smart phone. They passed through a few small villages, each with a smattering of lights illuminating the buildings. All the while, her hand remained in his.

Duke could only blame himself for the corner he’d backed himself into. He’d offered Val the job as their team’s medic in the hopes that they could save lives and offer medical attention in the remote areas they visited as part of their work with the African Court of Human Rights. She was possibly their most valuable asset after the protection they offered the marginalized and persecuted. He’d also become her friend, making it even more complicated. How could he betray their friendship by wanting more? And if things didn’t work out, how would that impact their working relationship? Her contribution to the team was more important than his feelings, which was why moments like these were what he lived for. He was hoping these next few weeks would give him a wealth of memories to keep him going.

“We should be almost at the top.” Val craned her neck, peering toward the front of the bus. There were only a few passengers left. “We’ll be able to look down on the town. This time of night it will be lit up. You won’t believe how many lights they can put on all the buildings. People will be dancing in the square. Mom and Dad are likely still up. If we’re lucky, they’ll have saved something for us.”

The bus reached the top of the hill.

Val was practically sitting in his lap.

“Where are the lights?”

The bus crept down the mountains and through the outskirts of the village. A few homes had candles in the windows, but by and large, the lights were out.

“Something isn’t right,” Val whispered.

They got off the bus and recovered their bags from the luggage compartment.

Duke didn’t want to admit how eerily quiet it was. Once he did that, they were committed to digging into what was wrong, and after almost two days of traveling, his greatest desire was a little sleep. The bus pulled away, and they remained standing there in the darkness, listening to the diesel engine chug away and the gurgling fountain. He swiped his hand across his brow. Even in the mountains, it was still warm enough to make him sweat.

“This way.” Val dragged the remaining suitcase toward a building on the square with large windows.

Duke gave the square one last hard stare before he followed her to the shop and through the door. The smell of bread and sugary sweetness reminded him he hadn’t eaten since leaving Bogotá. Glass cases were empty and the only signs of life came from the light seeping around the door leading to the back of the shop.

“This is so weird.” Val twisted the lock on the front door. “Come on. They must be in the back.”

Duke wrangled the bags around the display and followed Val to the bakery. A single light was on in what must be the bakery proper, but no other people were around. Val kept going, through a door on the left, her steps slow and heavy.

Muted voices called out to Val and soft footsteps thumped on the floor. Duke followed, hauling the luggage into the family quarters off the bakery.

“Duke, come meet my parents.” Val had a smile pasted on her face, but it was her eyes that worried him. “Tell me I’m not crazy and you think there’s something off, too?”

He glanced at her parents, unsure what to say in front of the couple.

Something was defiantly going on here. He could have excused the missing of lights, but between the lack of decorations and no people to be seen, it was too eerie.

VALENTINA SANCHEZ STARED at the plastic smiles painted on her parents faces.

“Is it Abuela? Is something wrong? Is that why...?” Her throat tightened. She hadn’t considered that her parents moving to La Playa had anything to do with her grandparents or their health. Dad had said they wanted to retire to a quieter way of life, and she’d accepted that.

“What?” Mom’s face scrunched up, and she shook her head. “No, she’s sleeping. Bring your friend over here. We kept dinner. Does your friend speak Spanish?”

“No, Mom.” Val glanced at Duke.

Duke rocked from his heels to the balls of his feet. He was ready to drop. It was in the heavy-lidded stare, the slight smile. That last mission had been harder than they’d expected, and Duke needed to eat, sleep and recharge. He wouldn’t do that so long as she was up and fretting, which meant that, for tonight, she needed to figure out how to sleep on it.

“Come sit.” Dad waved them to the ancient dining table.

Val sighed and turned toward Duke. She didn’t want to talk too much around her parents. They weren’t fluent in English, but they knew enough.

“They saved dinner for us. Want to eat now?” She wasn’t as used to switching between English and Spanish after the last six months in Africa, but it was coming back to her.

“Sure.” Duke smiled and nodded at her parents, joining them at the table. He ran his hand over the solid surface. “This table is magnificent.”

“Isn’t it. Even if you don’t know what Abuela is saying, she has to tell you the story about her abuela getting the table into the house. She had to have been like, five? It’s the funniest story.” Val traced an old, gnarled knot under all the varnish. The table was seven feet long and made out of the trunk of a tree from the Amazon River basin. To listen to Abuela tell the story, they’d rebuilt the house around the new table following a fire that had only damaged the roof over the house and not the bakery at all.

“I can’t wait to hear it.” Duke’s smile widened.

“What lies are you telling him?” Mom narrowed her gaze at them and slid two steaming plates down the table with expert precision.

“What a terrible mother you’ve been.” Val switched to Spanish and glared right back, but couldn’t help but smile.

Her father took the seat next to her and gave her waist a squeeze.

“It’s good to have you home,” he said.

“It’s good to be here.” Val glanced back at Mom, who seemed more invested in insisting that everything was fine. “Where are all the decorations?”

“Oh, we just haven’t gotten around to it yet,” he said.

“Not gotten around to it?”

Her parents both shrugged and Duke dug into the red beans and rice Abuela had more than likely made for them.

Colombian Christmas was a six week marathon of drinking, eating and dancing. People played games, they had parties, it was a joyous time of the year. And La Playa as a community was particularly festive. The idea that no one had bothered with decorating was crazy.

Val ate, but her mouth was dry and a lead weight filled her stomach.

They finished the meal and Val did a quick clean up so her mother didn’t have to. Her family typically went to bed early since they were up before the sun to bake for the day. They hugged and Val shooed them off to bed. She wasn’t a guest here and didn’t need them fussing over her. She watched them walk hand in hand down the narrow hall to the bedroom they’d taken over since moving here.

Duke reached across the table, offering her his hand. She took it and held tight, using his warmth to anchor her.

“Something’s not right,” she whispered in English.

“You seemed tense. What’d they say?”

“They said they just hadn’t gotten around to decorating, but that’s such a load of crap. I just... What happened while I was gone that they wouldn’t tell me about? What’s happened that would stop a whole town from decorating?”

“I don’t know, but it’s late and you’ll think better in the morning.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” She pushed to her feet, wobbling a little as the weariness of traveling across continents settled on her shoulders.

Duke was there, placing a steadying hand against her back.

“How about I get the bags and you show me where I’m crashing?”

“We’re in the two small bedrooms on the courtyard side.” She blew out a breath. Tomorrow she’d dig into what the hell was going on. “This way.”

She scooped up her bag and led the way down to the door that led into the split bedrooms. A partial wall separated the space into two smaller rooms.

“My dad was the youngest of the four brothers. The two middle brothers used to fight so bad Abuela insisted they build this wall.” Val placed her hand on the wooden column that bore her uncle’s initials and marks for their height over the years.

“Will they be joining us?” Duke set the rest of the bags down on the left side of the wall.

“No. There’s only one sister that’s still living. My aunt doesn’t like coming back to La Playa. Which side would you like?” Val turned on the old, flickering lights, one on either side. It wasn’t glamorous, but they’d stayed in worse during their missions. The beds were clean, the linens smelled like lavender and the sound of the wind whistling through the stone fins would serenade them to sleep.

“I’ll take this one. The right seems like it will have more privacy.”

“Privacy. There’s a novel word.” She grinned. How many nights had they all passed out on a floor, in a barn, without so much as a blanket between them?

“Get some rest. Tomorrow we will figure out what’s wrong.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry you missed out on the view.”

“The view has been perfect.” He smiled at her and a warmth blossomed in her chest.

Val glanced away first, but she could still feel his stare.

There’d been a simmering attraction just under the surface stemming from the first day when she’d removed Duke’s stitches. Their banter, the occasional contact, it all pointed toward a mutually destructive chemistry that would burn hot and leave her devastated.

Duke was a good man. One of the best she’d ever met. She’d probably follow anywhere he led, and that worried her. Duke lived and breathed their work. She feared if the lines between their professional and personal relationships blurred farther, this job would consume her. She liked spending time with Duke, but she wanted more than a well documented resume when she died. She wanted a family, to see the world and make a difference. She didn’t want to give up those dreams for anyone. Not even Duke.