Chapter 2
Chapter 2
H er tent was in the middle of nowhere, begging to be invaded. It was a wonder she hadn’t been kidnapped and raped already. If not yet, then soon. John remained hidden a minute, eyeing the tent in annoyance. He was the head of this mission and had a million and one things to do. It irked him greatly to have to tear himself away long enough to pack up some boneheaded scientist.
He stalked to her tent and entered uninvited. In his experience, the element of surprise always gave him the advantage.
Something familiar tickled his nose and he stopped short in the entry of the tent. Home, he thought, then quickly shook his head. He had no home. That was what made him a good soldier, his complete lack of attachment.
The woman had her back to him, likely had no idea he was there. It was kind of his thing, to be silent. His calling card, if such could be said about him. He cleared his throat, but when she turned, there was no surprise in her expression, only amusement. They studied each other a few blinks, assessing. She was short and petite, except her hair, blond and curly and spilling out of its confinement. She wore glasses, and he wondered anew at the desperation of his men because, though cute, she wasn’t a knockout by any means. Pretty, but not a pinup. More scientist than siren. He opened his mouth to tell her once and for all it was time to go, but she preempted him.
“John Caruthers, as I live and breathe.”
He blinked at her, as much surprise as he ever showed anyone. Had his men blabbed? How else to explain her recognition of him? “Ma’am,” he said. Was his voice always so stern and gravelly, or was it only in comparison to hers, the first female he’d talked to in months.
She smiled, one of her cheeks revealing a deep dimple. “You don’t recognize me.”
“Ma’am,” he said, different intonation this time, a question.
“This is too good. I wonder how long I can keep you in suspense.”
“I assure you, ma’am, I feel no such emotion,” he said.
She snickered, nose wrinkling. “Look at you, all militarized. And calling me ma’am. This is a twist.”
Her accent was familiar, and he felt a prickle of foreboding. America was a vast nation. It was not possible he wound up in the jungle with someone from so near his home. And yet she knew him. At last his curiosity was piqued, but his mind drew a blank. She looked like no one he knew, and he had an excellent memory.
“Ma’am,” he repeated, and this time the tone bordered on exasperation.
“Haven’t figured it out yet, huh?” she said, smug.
Only years of practice and training kept his ascetic countenance in place. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t place her as her enjoyment at his expense. John prided himself on being the smartest person in the room, always.
“Would you like me to give you a hint?”
His expression didn’t flicker.
Her smile widened. She placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward, tilting on the balls of her feet to whisper, “Bear.”
He blinked at her once, twice, three times. “Juniper Dunbar?”
“One and the same,” she said, smile growing impossibly wider.
“Last time I saw you, you were…” he trailed off, uncharacteristically uncertain.
“Eight.”
“And now you’re…”
“Twenty two. And you are…”
“Thirty two.”
“Old,” she declared, and his brows lowered. Thirty two was not old by anyone’s estimation, except possibly someone who was only twenty two. “Why’d you go away and never come back? You promised you would always come back.”
He heard it then, the same imperious, wheedling tone she’d used when she was eight. Why are you going away, Bear? Don’t you love us? “I’ve been a mite busy, Juniper. The world doesn’t save itself.”
“Oh, my lands.”
That was all she said, forcing him to draw her out. “What?”
“You’ve become pompous.”
“I’ve become factual.”
“You were always that. Now it’s somethin’ else, somethin’ unpleasant. It’s going to take a lot of work on my part to deconstruct you, Bear.”
“No, because, see,” he held out his arm for her inspection. “This uniform means I’m here to work, which brings me to my purpose for this visit. You have to go.”
She tipped her head at him, smiling sweetly. “No.”
“It’s amazing you were able to find the question in that directive. Let me try again.” He took a step closer and stared down at her, channeling his old drill instructor. “You have to go.”
She took a step closer and stood on her toes, widening her smile. “No.”
“Are you unaware of what’s happening in Honduras in this year of our Lord, 1986?”
“So many fascinating things,” she said, shifting back onto her heels.
“It’s practically in all-out war with Nicaragua. The president has ordered this area evacuated. That means you, Juniper.”
“I’m not leaving my work. I’m certain it will all blow over.”
“I don’t think you understand what my presence here means,” he said.
“I do, actually. It’s fate.”
“No, I…what?”
“How else do you explain two long-lost acquaintances from middle-of-nowhere Alabama meeting up in the jungles of Honduras?”
“I’ve been in Central America practically the past ten years, when I wasn’t in Africa.”
She gasped. “Which part? I love Africa. Oh, John, you have to tell me all about it.”
“No, I don’t, and no, I won’t because, see, I go places in secret. That’s what I do, that’s why I’m here .” He pointed to the ground between them.
“If it’s a secret, why are you telling me?” she asked.
“Because I had to come see for myself in person who was so ridiculous four of my men failed to uproot her,” he ground out.
“And it’s me. Surprise!” She waved her hands in the air, beaming at him.
“No, that’s not…I came here because…You can’t…” He couldn’t remember the last time anyone in his life made him stammer. Sucking a breath, he found his center and tried again. “You have a generous ten minutes to pack what you deem essential, and then we’re leaving.”
“You’re cute, Bear. But no,” she replied unconcernedly, turning her back on him, a mistake. She reached for a mug, but he grabbed her arm, halting her. “My, but you’re silent,” she said. Her glance fell on his fingers, now wrapped around her forearm. Impossibly, almost against his will, he saw himself release her, one finger at a time. “Would you like some coffee? I picked and dried it myself.”
“No,” he ground out.
“I think you should. If there’s one thing I remember about you, it’s how grumpy you get when you’re hungry. My lands, I’ve never seen the like of you first thing in the morning, John, hungry and uncaffeinated.”
“You can’t possibly remember,” he rasped. It had been so long since anyone mentioned that time in his life, his beginnings. He had taken great pains to erase his past, and now here it was, standing before him with a beaming smile.
“You’d be surprised what I remember,” she said.
He stared at her, momentarily dumbfounded while she poured a cup of coffee and set a piece of bread on a plate. And then she handed it to him like they were taking tea together.
“It’s banana bread,” she said when he failed to reach for the plate. “The locals think I’m some kind of magician because I bake it in my outdoor oven. I’ve promised to teach them my ways in exchange for access to their knowledge.” She broke off a little piece of the bread and shoved it between her lips.
Absently, he reached for the plate and started to eat. He hadn’t had banana bread since he went to West Point, hadn’t had sugar, really. Sweets made a person soft, and John Caruthers was anything but soft. But now, standing in her hut eating a fresh, fat slice of bread, he wondered why he’d been holding out. Had anything ever tasted so good? He honestly couldn’t remember.
“What kind of knowledge?” he asked. As far as he could tell, all the locals knew was how to keep their heads down and avoid gunfire, something Juniper could probably do well to learn.
“Plants, trees, medicine, herbs. Anything and everything they have to bestow. I want to know it all.”
He glanced down at the delicate plate in his oversized hands, chagrined to realize he’d eaten the entire slice of bread. Without asking, Juniper sliced another piece and slid it onto his plate. “I don’t eat sweets,” he murmured, reaching for the second slice. When he finished that slice, she took the plate and filled his hands instead with warm coffee the color of a coconut.
“What did you put in it?” he asked, grimacing.
“Goat milk and date sugar.”
“Disgusting,” he said, but he tipped it back and drained it. And then he stood there blinking, momentarily forgetting his mission, a thing which had never happened to him in all his years of military life.
“I used to believe I would marry you,” Juniper said softly.
His brows rose. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I thought you belonged to me and, maybe, that I belonged to you, too.”
“Surely by now you’ve realized that was incorrect. I belong to no one. And you…” Suddenly he remembered why he was there and snapped to attention with a scowl. “You have to go. What on earth are you doing here in the first place?”
“The kapoks,” she said.
“What?”
She pointed behind her. “The kapok trees. They’re invaluable. I’ve been sent here to research them as part of my graduate fellowship.”
“What?”
“Thirty two seems young to lose your hearing,” she said.
“I heard you, I simply don’t believe you. You’re risking your life, defying orders, for some overgrown trees?”
“Am I risking my life because there’s danger or merely by virtue of defying your orders?” she asked.
“At this point it’s a tossup,” he said.
She burst into giggles.
“I’m not joking,” he said.
“That’s what makes it funny,” she said, dabbing beneath her eyes. “Oh, John, it’s really hard to take you seriously when I used to ride on your back when we swam.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with this present moment,” he said.
“Are you…” she leaned closer, tipping her head, “Are you blushing?”
“Absolutely no,” he said.
“You’re adorable.”
Never, in his entire life, had anyone called him adorable. He glanced down, the blasted delicate cup still cradled in his too big fingers. What am I doing? For the first time in his life, he felt like he might be having an out of body experience. He set the plate on the counter and backstepped out of the tent, his eyes remaining solidly on Juniper Dunbar.