Out of the Shadows (13 page)

She bit her lip to keep from giggling, but the effort failed. “
Herman?
Your parents actually named you
Herman?
”

Feigning vexation, he repeated, “It’s a family name.” He chuckled then; his green eyes were shining.

She gave up trying to control her reaction and burst out laughing. Ben’s stomach clenched at the sound, and his own smile vanished. The room seemed to close around them, and he sat mesmerized. He absorbed her laughter and watched the mirth in her beautiful eyes—he couldn’t imagine ever growing tired of it. He ached with the need to make her smile, to make her laugh, to keep her happy.

The sudden seriousness in Ben’s expression confused Leslie, and she sobered. “Oh, Ben, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you. It’s just that...well...” Guiltily, she tried to stifle her mirth. She shook her head in disbelief. “You just don’t look like a Herman.”

“Honey, for the record, I’ve never forgiven my parents.”

Leslie took a sip of her Coke. “So tell me about the PhD.”

He shrugged and finished off his second cookie before explaining. “I think I mentioned that I started graduate school when my wife and I moved to Washington. I had pretty much finished my coursework when we divorced.” He picked up his glass and swallowed the remains. He hesitated a bit, then added, “Then there were some problems with my commission. The air force and I parted company, and I ended up here. By that time, I was starting the dissertation. It’s pretty much complete now. I’m just doing final edits.”

“Well, wow. I’m impressed. So you’ll be Dr. Murphy... Dr. Herman Murphy.” She smiled. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

He was compelled to touch her then, but he settled for just taking her hand. His heart quickened when her fingers laced with his. They sat for a few minutes without saying anything, and then Ben broke the silence. “Les, I was serious. I need you to keep this a secret. I know my request sounds odd, but it’s important.”

“Why? I think it’s fun and interesting.” She smiled at him again. “For goodness’ sake, Ben, it’s impressive!”

Not wanting to spoil the mood, he attempted to joke his way through the issue. “Hey, if word got out, it would ruin my street cred.”

“Your
street cred?
” She looked puzzled.

“You know—my credibility. How I’m perceived.”

“This is about your
reputation?
” Her smile vanished.

He felt another twisting in his gut when he realized she was disappointed in him. His enjoyment of the discussion vanished, deflating like a burst balloon. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. Once again, he buried the emotions that were threatening to erupt with increasing regularity. His voice carried an edge when he answered, “Yes. It’s important that I maintain my reputation.”

Leslie looked at their joined hands and nodded. “Okay. I understand.” Her eyes rose to meet his. “It’s no problem, Ben. I can keep your secret.” She gently squeezed his hand and then let go. She rose and walked to the bookcases, appearing to study the titles. “Do you have any fiction?”

He managed to cover his own disappointment and gestured to one of the bookcases. “That’s the fiction. You’re welcome to borrow anything.”

She went to the spot he had indicated and discovered an eclectic collection. Charles Dickens, Herman Melville and Mark Twain were interspersed with books by Tom Clancy, Michael Crichton and Stephen King. “Where’s the romance section?” she inquired, trying to recover the light mood.

He reached past her and pulled out a copy of Jane Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice.
“This is it...the whole romance section.” He grinned. “And for the record, I have read it.”

She chuckled softly and took the book from him, laying it aside after caressing the spine for a moment. She pulled out what appeared to be a very early edition of
The Great Gatsby
and flipped through it before replacing it on the shelf. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. About all I have to read at the clinic are an excellent collection of medical and nursing books and some of Mama Joe’s books on missiology. They’re nice for reference, but not particularly entertaining.” She indicated the books with her hand. “Other than
Pride and Prejudice,
do you have recommendations?”

With that prompting, Ben proceeded to pull out several books and place them on the table in front of Leslie. He briefly explained the plots of a couple she was not familiar with and teasingly chastised her for not having read some of the classics.

Leslie glanced outside and noticed the position of the afternoon sun. “I should get back to the clinic in case anyone comes in later.” She picked up the selection of books, and Ben followed her to the door carrying the peanut butter. The pair stood looking at each other for a heartbeat before Leslie put her free hand on his shoulder. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for a lovely visit. It was one of my most enjoyable since I came to Kenya... And Ben,” she said, continuing to look at him steadily, “thank you again for being there for me during the hard times.”

Although he tried to refrain from reaching out to her, he could not keep his hand from caressing her hair. “Leslie...”

Instead of verbalizing his thoughts, he leaned down to gently touch her lips with his. It was not a passionate or demanding kiss, but its simplicity, coupled with the longing in his eyes, was devastatingly effective in melting her final resistance. She had been attracted to him for a long while—probably from the very beginning—and finally acknowledged that the attraction had grown to something warm and enticing. But, in the recesses of her mind, she feared giving in to the feelings. She was afraid to love, and she was even more fearful of loving Ben.

He pulled back and grinned at her. “Next time I’ll expect peanut-butter cookies.”

His teasing words allowed her to put aside her pensive musings, and she managed an easy smile. “You’ve got a deal.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

D
URING
THE
NEXT
few weeks, Ben and Leslie saw each other fairly regularly. Sometimes Ben would stop at the clinic in the early evening and stay for supper. One day they went to the Merdians’ for dinner, enjoying time with the active family.

Another day, they took an afternoon and drove through the great Tsavo wildlife park, spending hours watching the herds of elephant, Cape buffalo and zebra. Ben spotted a small pride of lions in the tall grass, and the great cats did not stir even though he drove within twenty feet of them. For a long while, they watched rambunctious cubs rolling over tolerant mothers who lounged in the tall grass, completely ignoring the pair in the Jeep.

On the third Sunday in May, as was her habit, Leslie went to church. She sat near the front and, trying not to be obvious, she occasionally turned her head to look through the sea of faces, hoping to spot Ben. She’d learned that he always came to the service when he was in town, but he routinely arrived late and left early, standing at the rear of the structure to avoid attracting attention. That Sunday she didn’t spot him so she was surprised to find him waiting for her.

He caught her arm as she walked out of the tent into the bright sunshine. His gaze swept over her as he pulled her to one side. She was wearing a simple, pale blue cotton dress that buttoned in the front from the conservative neckline nearly to her ankles. At the sides were thin ribbons that tied in the back, accentuating the smallness of her waist. A large tortoiseshell clip held her wavy brown hair on top of her head. She looked softly radiant.

“Hi,” she said, smiling up at him. “I looked for you inside.”

He smiled back. “I was in the far corner—trying to keep a low profile.”

Her smile faded at his quip, and she said, “Oh. I see.” The more involved Leslie became with Ben, the more troubled she grew. His persistence in maintaining his hard-drinking, womanizing, ne’er-do-well persona goaded her—and because of it, she couldn’t completely trust him.

A brief look of something that appeared to be pain flickered across his face, and she saw his jaw twitch. The moment passed, and he reached out to touch her hand. “Look, Leslie, I have an errand to run in Mombasa. If you’re not busy, I was wondering if you would come with me.”

She looked at his hand lightly holding hers. Despite her concerns, she was drawn to him by a force that was becoming impossible to resist. Her cautious nature—coupled with her ongoing worry about his activities—warred with her desire to be with him. She sighed inwardly as her better judgment lost the battle. “I’ve not been to Mombasa yet. I can’t be gone long, though.”

“It’s just for the afternoon. The flight is only about an hour and a half. We can have a late lunch at one of the nice hotels, and I’ll have you back by dusk, I promise.”

There was nothing Leslie needed to do at the clinic, and she’d been dreading being alone. Flying to the coastal city for a few hours would be a fun way to spend the afternoon. Besides, she reluctantly acknowledged, she could spend the rest of the day with Ben.

She nodded and smiled again. “Actually, I’d love to go. Let me tell Titus and Naomi.”

* * *

O
N
THE
WAY
to the airstrip Ben stopped briefly at his compound, explaining that he only needed a moment to change and suggesting that Leslie wait in the car. In less than five minutes he returned, fashionably dressed in black slacks and a blue dress shirt and wearing a beige linen sport coat. Leslie stared as he climbed into the vehicle. Only once before had she seen him wearing anything but khaki slacks and tan or white shirts.

“Goodness!” she exclaimed teasingly. “You do clean up well!”

He grinned. “The occasion warrants it. I’m having lunch with the most beautiful nurse in all of Africa.” On impulse, he leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips before starting the Jeep. Because he had turned away to put the vehicle into gear, he missed the blush and look of pleasure that crossed her face.

During the short flight, Ben explained the purpose of some of the dials and gauges on the instrument panel. He showed her how to monitor the altitude, attitude and pitch of the small plane, and she quickly became enthused with the idea of learning to fly.

As they neared the city, Ben radioed ahead and requested the control tower’s permission to land at the busy airport; soon they were on the ground. Outside the bustling terminal, Ben found a reputable-looking taxi and told the driver to take them to Mombasa Island.

Ben cracked the taxi’s window to let in fresh air. “I thought we could go to the Imperial Hotel. It’s one of the venerable hotels built when the British were constructing the railroad. It’s truly a landmark. Plus, they have a terrific chef.”

“That sounds perfect,” Leslie replied as she gazed out her window. As they drove toward the harbor, Ben explained the rest of his plans. “My meeting is scheduled for four o’clock. That will give us a couple of hours to eat. I don’t want you to have to sit through it, so I was planning on dropping you off with the Gustafsons. They’re another missionary couple who knew my parents. The meeting will only be an hour or so, and then I’ll pick you up and head back to the airport.”

She nodded and continued to stare out the window. “That will be fine,” she replied, more interested in the sights of Mombasa than Ben’s plan. Old mosques, Hindu temples, and churches were interspersed with modern buildings of glass and steel. Colorful, bustling bazaars dotted the narrow streets, and people of all races and cultures moved through them at a leisurely pace. The South Asian influence was evident, and she was captivated by the Moorish architecture. Domed buildings were beset with wide arches. Many of the window eaves were heavily decorated with plaster filigree, and colorful tiles adorned doorways. In odd contrast, the attire of the people seemed somber. Indeed, many of the women were modestly dressed in traditional Islamic black veils, which covered them from head to toe.

The Imperial Hotel was a huge white stucco structure on a palm-lined beach. The grounds were gorgeously landscaped with deep green lawns and huge shrubs laden with pink, red or white flowers. Two beautifully marked peacocks and several peahens wandered around, adding a perfect finishing touch to the exotic setting.

They dined on a shaded veranda overlooking the gardens on one side and the blue waters of the harbor on the other. Despite the heat and humidity, large overhead fans comfortably cooled the air. The table was covered with white linen and set with silver utensils. Fragrant pink and red flowers rested in a crystal vase in the center of the table. They arrived a little before two o’clock, after the normal lunchtime and before afternoon tea, so the dining area was almost deserted.

Throughout lunch Ben entertained her, sharing more tales of his African exploits. At his suggestion, Leslie chose an entrée of curried fish over rice, which was spicy and delicious. Over a dessert of custard with a light cream sauce and dark coffee, the conversation slowed. Leslie felt drowsy and slightly detached, thoroughly enjoying the beauty of her surroundings and the company of the man across from her.

Ben watched Leslie as she dreamily stared past the manicured lawns toward the sea. Moving slowly, he reached across the table to catch her hand, which was resting beside her china cup. Without moving her gaze, she turned her hand over to hold his.

The warmth of his fingers sent tiny tingles up her arm, which spread until her entire body felt flushed. Finally, she focused on their intertwined hands and then lifted her eyes to his face. His expression was unguarded, and she saw what she could only interpret as longing in his pale green eyes. She was certain she recognized deep affection, but she was reluctant to probe further into his emotions because she was unwilling to fully examine her own.

Suddenly anxious to break the mood, she removed her hand from his. As an excuse for the retreat, she picked up the dainty cup that contained the remainder of her coffee and finished its contents. Sensing her withdrawal, Ben looked away. He gestured to the waiter and presented cash to the man. After the waiter departed, Ben took a final sip of coffee and glanced at his watch. “We’d better get you to the Gustafsons, so I’ll be in time for my meeting.”

Ben gently placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked in silence through the cool lobby of the hotel. He was encouraged when she leaned toward him, tacitly welcoming his touch. A uniformed doorman requisitioned a taxi, and, inside the car, Ben consulted a piece of paper before giving the address to the driver.

“Sam and Charlotte Gustafson are Bible translators who worked with my parents. They have two sons, one on either side of me in boarding school. Their oldest son, Greg, returned a few years ago and runs an HIV program in Tanzania. You’d like him.”

“Are you sure they won’t mind us just dropping in?”

“Yes. I promise they’ll relish the visit, and Charlotte will talk your ear off.”

Less than ten minutes later, the taxi pulled up next to a dainty, peach-colored house surrounded by a walled garden. Ben asked the driver to wait and helped Leslie exit the car.

“Excuse me.” A man’s voice stopped them as they were mounting the front steps. “Whom are you seeking?”

The couple turned in response to see a small, thin man of indeterminate age on the porch of the house next door. He was dressed in white, loose-fitting pants and shirt and had swarthy skin and straight black hair.

Ben nodded slightly to address the older man with the formality befitting South Asian culture. “Your pardon, sir. I am Ben Murphy. My companion and I are in Mombasa for the day, and we wished for a brief visit with Mr. and Mrs. Gustafson.”

The man nodded politely and answered, “I regret to inform you, Mr. Murphy, but Mr. and Mrs. Gustafson are not home at this time. They have gone to a conference in Switzerland. I do not expect them back for another week.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Ben. He digested this revelation then nodded to the man in white. “Thank you for your time, sir.” He turned back to the waiting taxi and gestured for Leslie to precede him inside. Both Leslie and the driver waited in silence as Ben considered their options. Finally, he glanced at the driver and gave him the address of an office building in the Old Town.

Once en route, he turned to Leslie. He stared at her for a moment, then abruptly said, “Take down your hair.”

It was more of an order than a request. She frowned. “What?”

He motioned to her head. “Your hair. Take the clip out of your hair and leave it loose.”

Bewildered, Leslie nonetheless complied. In silence, she removed the tortoiseshell clip and combed her fingers through her wavy hair until it fell in a heavy mass well past her shoulders.

Ben nodded, pleased with the effect, but a scowl marked his brow and the corners of his mouth. He studied her for a moment and then reached across to touch the neckline of her bodice. Leslie recoiled in surprise and quickly put a hand up to hold the dress against her chest. Exasperated, she asked, “What
are
you doing?”

He gestured toward her dress. “Unbutton the top two buttons.”

She gaped at him.
“What?”

With growing impatience, he explained, “Look, Leslie. It really isn’t safe or acceptable to leave you alone anywhere, so I’ll have to take you with me. But you don’t look right.” Seeing her injured frown, he quickly added, “I mean, you look great, but you don’t look right for this meeting.”

She shook her head again. Her expression indicated a lack of comprehension.

“We don’t have time to go into it now, but you know I have something of a reputation. You’re different from the women I’m usually seen with.”

Leslie understood that part, but his explanation had not helped his cause. Sarcastically, she replied, “Look, Ben, I’m sorry if my appearance doesn’t exactly fit your precious reputation—”

Ben stopped her. “Leslie, this is serious.” He gripped both of her arms above the elbow and explained in quiet tones he was certain the driver could not overhear. “It’s not my reputation that concerns me. I don’t want anyone we meet today to connect
you
to a certain visiting nurse. Honey, there’s probably nothing to worry about, but it’s best that nothing be out of the ordinary.” Abandoning the serious demeanor, he gave her his lopsided grin. “Look, I would not bring a gorgeous missionary nurse with me... So you need to turn into a gorgeous something else.”

She was flattered by the offhand compliment. Willing to hear him out, she looked at him skeptically. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

He answered immediately. “First, we need to alter your appearance.” At his instruction, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her bodice and several of the buttons at the bottom of her skirt. He contemplated her face again. “Do you have any darker lipstick?”

She shook her head and pulled a small silver tube containing pale coral-colored balm out of her pocket. “No. I just have this.”

He nodded. “Okay. It’ll have to do. Apply it fairly heavily.” After she had finished with the lipstick, he eyed her critically. “That’s better. But you need to do something more to your hair. Can you poof it a little?”

“Poof
it?”
she practically squeaked.

“You know. Make it bigger.”

Sighing, Leslie leaned her head down and brushed her hair forward with her fingers to add fullness. She then threw her head back and smoothed her hair slightly. He nodded approvingly.

“Oh, here, give me your watch.” He held out his hand, and she removed the chunky black Casio that was decidedly more functional than fashionable. Obediently, she handed him the watch. He perused her appearance again and then nodded with satisfaction.

“Okay. You look great. Now we need to work on your character. What’s your middle name?”

Caught off guard again, she gave him another worried frown. “Ann.”

“Hmm,” he responded. “No, that won’t work.” He thought a moment. “Meredith Woodward.”

“
Who
is Meredith Woodward?”