Rula Sinara - The Marine's Return

They’d met at the hospital during one of his short leaves in the States. He had been visiting a young woman—a medic—who’d been wounded while en route to the field hospital where he was stationed. Lexi had felt an instant connection with Tony. So immediate, it had scared her at first.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself from loving him. He had been just as open with her as she had been with him. He’d been an only child, too, except he’d had good parents. He’d been raised in Kenya and had grown up with his best friend who’d been like a brother to him. A brother who hadn’t been able to make it to her and Tony’s wedding because of his deployment. But Tony had promised he’d introduce her to him someday.

He’d also promised she would never be alone again.

Ever.

The last time they’d been together had been the final day of his leave, only three weeks into their marriage. He’d proposed as soon as he had returned home from duty and they were married that week. In retrospect, she wondered if he’d somehow sensed he might not make it back and it had been his way of ensuring that he kept his promise in one form or another. They had married, honeymooned locally...then he’d had to return to duty. And then their life together ended. Just like that. He’d been gone less than two weeks when he was injured.

She’d rushed to be by his side but he’d been in a medically induced coma. One he never awoke from.

His death had felt like the sharp edge of a knife twisting and carving its way through her chest. She’d lost everything that day. She’d thought she had nothing left to lose...until she’d discovered she was pregnant on the day of his funeral.

Lexi’s eyes burned from the memory. She blinked and sniffed to stop any tears from falling, then focused on clearing her clinic supplies. She needed to keep her head. Tony had never been comfortable around emotional outbursts or signs of weakness. She needed to stay strong for him...for his baby.

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.