CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sunday October 22nd
Baga Sola
Frisco sat against the concrete wall of the hospital and drained his bottle of water. It was well past midnight, and Brooke was still arm-deep in patients and blood. The three suicide bombers that had hit the market were DOA, and the two that had made it to the refugee camp were as well. Scrubbing his hand down his face, he tried to erase the picture of pulling up the burka of one of the bombers and seeing the face of a thirteen-year-old girl. For all the war he’d seen, all the atrocities, that shit still got to him.
Fadoul and Oumar walked over and joined him. “Boko Haram?” he asked.
“Probably,” Fadoul responded. “Someone should claim responsibility in the next day or two.”
“What’s the casualty count?” Oumar asked.
“Heard at least thirty,” Frisco responded. “I went in to check on Brooke a little while ago, and she was assisting in surgery.”
“Lucky for the victims that she decided to come and visit her friend,” Fadoul remarked.
“Has this ever happened before?” Frisco asked.
“No, but we expected something to occur, because we participated in the joint task force that moved them out of their strongholds in Borno. We are seen as infidels, the same as you,” Oumar responded.
“How can you be an infidel if you’re Muslim?”
Fadoul let out a sharp snort. “Because, apparently, our Muslim faith is not as good as theirs. Our faith does not require us to kill and terrorize innocent people, so we must be part of the unfaithful.”
“This is what we like to call a goat fuck in America. Which means no one is winning and everyone has lost.”
“I like this term,” Oumar said as he uncapped his water bottle. “A lot.”
Frisco let out a snort and then wiped his face with his T-shirt. “Should we expect a second attack? Was that just the appetizer?’
“That was probably it,” Fadoul responded. “But if it were me, I would take Brooke out of here as soon as I could. American aid workers are a big commodity for Boko Haram because they can extract both publicity and money if they manage to get ahold of one.”
“That was my plan when I heard the first explosion, but I can’t pull her out of the hospital until she’s done what she needs to do.”
“We have the army patrolling the town and surrounding area, so I think you’ll have until Monday. The area will be restricted, and since you two are traveling without an affiliation, they’ll want you to evacuate,” Oumar said.
“But try to make it her idea; don’t give her orders,” Fadoul said quietly. “If I tell my wife what to do, then it will never happen, but if I move her in the direction of where I want to go and she comes up with the idea, then everyone is happy.”
Oumar tapped his nose and then pointed at his friend. “Happy wife, happy life.”
“We have the same saying in America,” Frisco replied with a laugh.
“Every man in the world who wants a happy marriage and happy life probably follows the rule. Women are like a hurricane. You know it’s coming, you just don’t know when it’s going to hit landfall and how bad the damage is going to be,” Fadoul added.
Frisco fist-bumped his friend and grinned. “Amen.”
Oumar drained his bottle of water and then heaved himself to his feet. “We should check in with the commander and see if they need extra patrols tonight.”
Frisco stood as well. “Let me know if you need an extra set of eyes.”
Fadoul shook his hand and tipped his head toward the hospital. “You can make sure nothing happens here, and that will be enough.”
He saluted his two friends and watched them walk down the dirt road toward the center of town and then turned when he heard his name being called. “Hi, sweetheart.” Opening his arms, he waited for her to walk into them. When he wrapped his arms around her, he felt her melt into him as she anchored her arms around his waist. “I got you.”
“We just lost a ten-year-old girl.”
Feeling her shudder, he held her as she cried. There were no words that would make the situation better, so he did the only thing he could and hugged her as she let it out. He knew from experience that, no matter how many times you faced it, you were never fully prepared.
And since she was on the side of saving lives, he couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. When she pulled away, he felt her hands rub against his T-shirt. “What?”
“I was covered in blood from the surgery, and I got it all over you.”
“Not the first time; forget about it.”
“What kind of lives are we living where this is a regular thing?”
He lifted her face and held her gently. “The kind that matter. We’re in the thick of the battle between good and evil, of life and death. Of what matters. Nothing about that is civilized, no matter if you’re the one ending a life or saving one.”
“We sure didn’t pick the easy path,” she said quietly. “Being in the middle of this again isn’t easy.”
“It’s not supposed to be. When it doesn’t feel like anything, then you know it’s time to get out of the game.”
“I’d like to get out before that happens.”
“Which is why the idea of leaving the Teams in several months doesn’t scare the shit out of me. I don’t want to be completely void of feeling by the time I get out.”
“To be a successful aid worker, you have to become a sort of machine. There is no way to take in everyone’s story and feel it, because you can’t function if you do. Turning off emotion is the only way to survive, and when that becomes the norm, it’s harder to go back to feeling anything.”
“We call it shoving shit into boxes and making sure it stays there. You can’t deal with the experience when it happens, because then it would be impossible to go out and do your job, and yet when it comes time to deal with whatever you’ve experienced or seen, those boxes don’t like to be opened.”
“I prefer to shove them on the top shelf of the closet and hope they magically disappear,” Brooke said as she laid her head against his chest.
“The good news here is that we get one another. Granted, we’ve had very different experiences, but at the core, we’ve seen the worst of humanity and done what we could to right a wrong or fix what we could.”
“It feels endless sometimes.”
“That’s the way of the world, always has been…always will be.”
Wrapping her arms around his waist, she held him tightly. “You’re good medicine, Frisco Jones.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” He smoothed his hand over her hair. “Hell of a day, Brooke.”
“Yeah.” She looked up and gave him a small smile. “You get to pick the next adventure.”
“Beaches and no clothes,” he answered.
“I’ll take it.” Turning toward the doors of the small hospital, she patted his chest. “I should get back in there and check on the patients.”
“Go and do your thing.”
“We’re not going to be able to stay for long, are we?”
“No, they want to restrict travel in and out of the area, and since we’re not attached to an agency, they want us out by Monday at the latest.”
“That’s what I thought.” Shrugging, she shoved her hands into her pockets and started walking backward. “I’ll do as much as I can.”
“Love you, Brooke.”
Tilting her head, she stopped and pressed her hand against her heart. “I love you too, Frisco. A lot.”
Before he could absorb the words, she had disappeared inside the tiny hospital, and he fell back a step. Looking up, he saw a dark sky scattered with stars, the same one he saw no matter where he was in the word, and knew his lucky star had finally decided to start shining down on him. The love of his life, the woman who gave him purpose, loved him back.
Drop the mic, because he just got everything he ever wanted in his life.
In the middle of Africa.
Who the hell met the woman of their dreams in Chad? Most people couldn’t find it on a map, and yet he somehow managed to find the one person who was exactly perfect for him there.
***
Brooke walked into Malaba’s small house and checked her watch. It was three in the afternoon. She’d been in town for twenty-four hours, and this was the first chance she had to visit with her dear friend. “Hello,” she called out.
“Come to the kitchen,” Malaba replied.
Stepping into the room, she saw her friend sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come.”
“Come and give me a hug so I know for sure that you were not hurt in the blasts.”
Opening her arms, she gently hugged Malaba and inhaled the familiar scent of vanilla. “Not a scratch on me.”
Cupping her face, Malaba studied her. “You look exhausted but happy.”
“I am,” Brooke replied with a smile she hadn’t been able to wipe off her face since she’d confessed her feelings to Frisco.
“Pour yourself a cup of coffee and tell me everything.”
“Are you comfortable here, or would you like to go sit on the couch?” Brooke asked as she filled a cup.
“The kitchen table is where life is worked out, so we’ll stay here.”
Taking a seat, Brooke set her cup down and folded her hands. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
Waving her hand in dismissal, she smiled. “I’m fine, and I’m not interested in talking about my health.” She rubbed her hands together. “Tell me about that man you brought to town.”
“You were right.”
Letting out a small laugh, Malaba replied, “You have to be specific, because I’m right about most things.”
“True, but in this case, you were right about someone showing up in my life and helping me discover what the next chapter should be.”
Clapping her hands together, she nodded. “I felt like it was your time to focus on something else, and the universe cooperated and sent someone.”
“You’re going to meet him in a little bit, and I’m interested to hear what you think.”
“If the smile on your face is any indication of how happy he makes you, then I already like him.”
“He’s getting cleaned up and should be here soon.”
“Tell me all about him.”
“I met him in N’djamena, and he’s with the American military…a SEAL.”
“Like your father?”
Sitting back, Brooke smoothed out her T-shirt. “Yes, he’s everything I didn’t want and the absolutely perfect man for me.”
“That’s how life works.”
Hearing a light knock on the door, Brooke stood. “That must be him.”
“Bring him in so I can see who has stolen your heart.”
Following directions, Brooke answered the door and pulled Frisco into the kitchen. “Malaba, I’d like you to meet Lt. Cmdr. Frisco Jones.” Looking up, she saw his sexy smile and remembered the first time she’d seen it. “He’s the love of my life and the one I think I may end up spending my life with.”
“No thinking, honey, only knowing. We’re going to be hitched within the year.”
Malaba hooted with laughter. “I see you found a good one.”
“I found a crazy one if he thinks we’re getting married in the next several months.” Shaking her head, she took her seat and motioned for Frisco to take one as well. “Next year.”
Frisco leaned forward and took Malaba’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, and I’m hoping you can talk some sense into this woman and tell her to quit fighting what is and just embrace it.”
Malaba waved her finger back and forth. “I have news for you, young man. The woman you fell in love with needs to take her time with things and cannot be rushed into something.”
Sitting back, he crossed his arms. “I already figured that out. I was just hoping you could get her to move a little faster toward accepting that we’re made for one another.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Brooke huffed out.
Frisco put his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. “I love you.”
“I love you too, but don’t be enlisting my friends to try to help you with your shenanigans.”
“Getting married is not a shenanigan; it is the next logical step in our relationship.”
Brooke looked over at Malaba and twirled her finger next to her head. “He’s crazy.”
“True, but maybe it’s just what you need.”
“We’ve know one another for less than two months, so we’re not getting married anytime soon.”
“One year from the day we met, then,” Frisco said.
Brooke saw his sideways glance filled with determination and knew he meant it. “I will consider your offer when and if you give me a proper proposal.”
He put out his hand and waited with a raised eyebrow. “Deal?”
Reluctantly, she slipped her hand into his and shook it. “Deal.”
Malaba pressed her hands together as a tear slipped down her face. “Congratulations.” She stood slowly. “I’m going to change my dress so we can go over to the hospital and let your friends share the happy news.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, child. I’m almost back to full working order.”
Brooke watched Malaba walk out of the kitchen and then turned toward Frisco and put her hands on his face. “Did we just agree to marry one another?”
“Unofficially, yes.” He leaned in and pulled her closer and pressed their mouths together. “I’ll propose for real when we get home.”
“Are you sure?”
“The devil’s army couldn’t stop me from making sure we’re bound together and happy.”
“All right, then, Frisco. I’ll take you on because I love you. There’s nothing anyone can do in this godforsaken world to take that away from us, and I’m ready to let go of my doubtful heart and believe in what we have.”
“I fucking love you, Brooke Foster, and there’s not going to be a day that passes that I’m not going to make sure you know that. Completely and unequivocally.”
Wiping her hand against her face, she collected the tears that had fallen. “I didn’t think something…someone so extraordinary would ever come into my life. And, yet, here you are.”
“Here we are…together. Imperfectly…perfect for each other.” Lifting her into his lap, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I knew when I saw that goddamn perfect smile of yours in N’Djamena that I was going to do everything I could to make sure I got to see it every day for the rest of my life.”
Burying her face in his neck, she smiled against his skin. “I’m going to keep you.”
He lifted her head and held her face gently. “Mine.”
“Mine,” she repeated. “All mine.”