Chapter 5
CADENCE
Riley is giving me a guided tour of Three Rivers, but the tour is less about viewing local attractions than introducing me to certain personages known to Riley.
Our first stop after we leave the cafe is the local library, where he introduces me to a Mrs. Joanne Aldis, the librarian and, not incidentally, a key member of the Three Rivers Chamber of Commerce.
Riley is not a subtle man. He clearly and explicitly lays out my mission and my need and asks Mrs. Aldis for her assistance in leading the fundraising.
Mrs. Aldis is a trim, short, severe-looking woman with silver hair in a tight chignon, wearing cat’s-eye glasses and a sour expression. Yet, when she speaks, her voice is soft and kind.
"I am sympathetic to your cause, Ms. Creswell, but I cannot push a fundraiser on the townspeople without performing some due diligence, even on the word of a well-known and -respected citizen like Mr. Crowe."
"You require some manner of proof that I am who I say I am and that my mission truly is what I say it is." I nod, withdraw my laptop from my bag, open it, and glance at her. "May I show you some photographs?"
"Certainly," the librarian says.
I turn my back to her and Riley and pull up my folder of personal photographs from my most recent trip.
"These are from last year and the year before.
After I received my medical license, I took a position with an NGO and spent the better portion of the past two years performing medical work in the DRC, Ethiopia, the Central African Republic, and Mozambique.
These are my personal photographs, therefore I will not appear in them. "
I click slowly through the photographs—as a photographer, my eye focuses on humanity rather than the landscape, so the photographs are of the people of Africa.
Little girls, little boys. Babies. Pregnant mothers.
Emaciated fathers. Children in the throes of various illnesses.
Packed and overflowing makeshift triage tents in conflict zones.
Severed limbs. Mass graves. Mothers weeping over dead children.
Not all of them are so morbid, however. There is joy, too, such as when our caravan arrives with food and supplies.
A particular favorite photograph of mine is of a young girl embracing her very first actual toy doll, a look of supreme ecstasy and joy on her young, innocent face.
Mrs. Aldis has her face covered with one hand, her eyes moist with unshed tears. "How awful."
"Unless one sees this kind of suffering firsthand, one cannot imagine it to exist," I say.
"It is easy, here in this land of peace and plenty, to ignore the realities of life elsewhere.
I am the daughter of missionaries. I cannot ignore it.
" I clear my throat and close out the photographs, and open my slideshow.
"This is the presentation I created to show my corporate sponsors. "
Riley looks at me. "Corporate sponsors?"
I blink at him. "Well, yes. I have cordial and productive relationships with several medical supply companies, who have pledged financial support as well as supply donations. The scale of the funds I require for the mission I intend cannot be met entirely via private donations."
I flip quickly through the slides, which cover my credentials as a doctor, my experience in emergency medicine during rotations and then two years of residency, my background as a missionary with my parents, and the various letters of recommendation from professors, supervisors, fellow residents, and the head of my department at Harvard.
It also goes into detail regarding the situation in South Sudan and my plan to provide aid while mitigating the risks.
Riley says little while I give a much-foreshortened version of the presentation, which I have long since memorized. When I have finished, he regards me with an expression I cannot parse.
"Why do you look at me that way, Riley?" I ask.
He shrugs, shakes his head. "Just…it's a lot, I guess. Seeing what it's like over there, what people are going through. Plus, it's one thing for you to say you're a doctor and what you're planning, but seeing the evidence of it is something else."
Mrs. Aldis turns away, pacing a few steps in thought. After a few moments, she comes back. "Can you give that same presentation on Monday, for the Chamber of Commerce?"
I nod. "Yes, of course."
"I am only one vote, understand, but I know the others well enough to know you will find support."
My heart palpitates madly. "You…you truly believe I might find enough support to finish my fundraising?"
Mrs. Aldis nods, smiling kindly. "I do, my dear." She addresses Riley, then. "I'll work on the Chamber. If you get your friend Sheriff Mannix involved, the rest of the first responders will follow."
Riley grins. "My thinking exactly, Mrs. Aldis. Noelle has a lot of reach, too, both in the church community and as a business owner."
I glance at him, somewhat sharply. "Church community?"
"Yeah, my friend Noelle grew up in the church. She's had her issues on the church front, which isn't my story to tell, but she still has friends and family who are involved. She's our next stop."
The stop turns out to be a hair salon on the main street.
Noelle is a very beautiful young woman about my age and of a similar height, although where I am slender and slight of build, she is more of a Venusian beauty—and a heavily pregnant one.
Riley leads the way into the salon, and the young woman sees him and lights up.
"Rye-guy! Finally gonna let me at that hair of yours?
" she says, grinning at him with a teasing twinkle in her green eyes as she clips with expert speed and precision at a teenage boy's hair.
Riley blows a raspberry. "Not even close, babe, not even close. You got a minute after you're done there?"
She glances at her client and then at the smart watch on her left wrist. "Yeah, like five minutes? What's up?" She turns her gaze to me. "And introduce me to your…friend?"
It only occurs to me when she hesitates on the word 'friend' that Riley and I are holding hands again.
I look up at him. "Riley, you are giving people an incorrect impression regarding the nature of our relationship."
"It bothers you if people think we're together?" he asks.
I frown, considering it. "Hmmm. No. You did say you have a reputation to consider, however."
“Yeah, that was out of concern for you, babe. I was sayin' you may not want to hitch yourself to my wagon."
I frown all the harder. "But…why? Mrs. Aldis said you are well-respected member of the community."
"By some. Not by everyone." He gestures at his friend. "Cadence Creswell, MD, this is my good friend Noelle."
Noelle smiles at me, but her attention seems to be more on Riley as she finishes with her client, takes his money, and cleans her station. "So, Riley. I take it this isn't a social call."
A door in the rear of the salon opens and closes, and then I hear a bizarre clicking sound. I have no time to prepare myself for what happens next.
That being the bounding, slobbery arrival of a canine roughly the size of a not very small horse. It is the most terrifying creature I have ever seen, and I have come face to face with wild lions—sleeping on a game preserve, but still.
I scream and shrink against Riley, all but climbing his body like a tree as the gigantic, slavering creature barks deafeningly, greeting Noelle with a wild, slapping tongue. It then spies me and trots over to me, tongue extended.
I leap fully into Riley's arms, shaking like a leaf. "Get that creature away from me!"
Riley is laughing. "Hey, hey, hey, easy, hon.
That's Panzer." He turns, so I am forced to look at the beast, which has claws like sabers and teeth like daggers, and the most intimidating, terrifying visage one could imagine.
The beast could devour a lion, I do believe.
“He's big and scary looking, but he's a sweetheart. He's just saying hi."
"Panzer. Platz." The voice giving the command—in German—is monstrously deep, rough, and quiet. The dog immediately flops to his belly, panting without taking his eyes off me.
"Bear!" Riley says, his voice betraying his pleasure at the newcomer’s arrival. "Come meet Cadence."
The owner of the voice is every bit as terrifying as the dog.
Several inches taller than Riley and carrying a veritable mountain of muscle, he has bright red hair in a long, thick braid, with a beard also worn long and braided—the man from the photographs in Riley’s home.
His eyes are kind, however, and the way he embraces Noelle with gentle, loving affection puts me at ease.
He kisses Noelle and then releases her, approaching me. "We're scary dudes, Panzer and me." His smile is patient and warm. I wriggle, and Riley lets me find my feet. "I get it."
I stare at the canine, who is panting and drooling and watching me like I'm his next meal. His eyes, for a dog, don't seem aggressive, but I am unfamiliar with dogs.
"Dogs frighten me," I admit. "I was accosted by a dog when I was a child. It bit me and would not let go." I extend my left forearm to show the scars I still bear.
"I'm sorry that happened. Panzer is a highly trained dog, though. He won't move from that spot unless I tell him he can. You don't need to be afraid of him." He extends his hand to me. "I'm Bear."
I shake his hand—his is more of a paw than a hand, so big and powerful, I find it plausible that he could crush bricks into dust, if he so chose. Yet despite this, his grip is gentle. "I am Cadence Creswell." I eye the dog, Panzer, warily. "May I approach him?"
Bear crouches at his dog's side, gripping the beast's collar with one hand and wrapping his giant, burly arm around the dog's enormous neck. "Yeah, 'course. Let him sniff the back of your hand. He won't bite, you have my word.”