Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
T he late December winter sun in Ethiopia was bright, its warmth creeping into Willow’s clothing as she looked at the tall reeds that grew along the edge of Lake Tana. She was going to spend another rare free day with Shep. Another month had passed and the drumbeat of creating safer Delos schools in different villages was high and steady. With her floppy hat on, shading her face from the equatorial sunlight, she felt the stress melting away. Her shoulders relaxed and she sighed. Maybe because she was, at last, with Shep for a few precious private hours once again. It was like getting her beloved chocolate to Willow. Since their last boating on Lake Tana in November, she’d rarely seen Shep. Mostly, he stayed in whichever village was being helped by the Delos construction crews at that time.
Shep sat in the boat’s well, holding the handle of its old gasoline motor which putt-putt-putted away. A single line of twenty white pelicans flew overhead, looking like a string of feathery pearls moving across the sky. It was going on barely ten a.m. Willow had packed them a hearty lunch with lots of water bottles, stashing the whole fare away in their large knapsacks. Today, they were going on a real adventure! The sky held long white trails of what looked like mare’s tails across the deep blue above them. There was no wind, and the sun warmed them.
Having lived here for over a year, Willow knew that the temperature moderated in the winter season. It was dry in comparison to summer, which brought so much hot and heavy humidity up from the lake then. Where had the time gone? Time seemed to have passed in a blink of her eyes. She had invited Shep to take some time off to start seeing the country and get educated on its history. He seemed eager to spend any time, no matter how short or long it was, with her. They’d rarely seen each other, what with the villages being prepped and ever more construction materials being flown in five to eight times a day.
The eucalyptus trees with their white trunks were thick along one area up on a hill of one of many islands they were heading toward. Shorebirds skittered back and forth along the muddy lakeside turf, and white pelicans in groups of ten or more were out plying the shallow waters for easy fishing. They passed a canoe paddled by an Ethiopian youth who had a fifty-gallon tank of oil behind him. He was most likely bringing it to one of those many nearby island where oil was needed to heat their thatched-roof huts through the winter. Willow pointed them toward a small inlet that had a poorly made wooden wharf of sorts, half of it rotted away from time and weathering, floating haphazardly in the water around what was left of it.
“This is a narrow peninsula that looks like an island. We’ll head in over there and bring the boat up alongside that.” she said, pointing.
Nodding, Shep guided the slender wooden boat they had rented into the quiet, muddy waters around the decaying jetty. No one was around that he could see; only thick trees, plenty of rushes that were knee to waist high, and clumps of reeds at least ten to fifteen feet tall on the other side of the tiny inlet. A person could get lost in thickets like those for sure, Shep thought, having never seen reeds so tall that they stood like such an impenetrable wall. He liked that Willow had put her red hair into a ponytail today, her floppy hat planted firmly above it to keep the sun off her neck and face. She wore an olive-green tee under a long-sleeved khaki shirt, again to protect her fair skin from the equatorial sunlight. Willow had warned him that, where they had to hike, they would be getting thirsty fast, and there was no water, or food available on the strip of land that sat between Tana and a river whose other side was more like jungle. He liked adventures like this, and welcomed the break with Willow. Moments of privacy between them were so rare now. She and Dev were flying nonstop, and, at times, they even met their flight hour limits, and had to quit for the day. He was just as busy, setting up meetings and working with the construction crews, waiting for the building materials to be fully delivered to the first, second and third villages, all seventy miles away and on the other side of Lake Tana.
Willow carefully climbed out of the tippy little boat; the rope provided to moor it to the wobbly untrustworthy wharf post lying nearby. Once she was out, and had tied off the boat, Shep handed her both heavy knapsacks they would be carrying. Gingerly leaving the boat, he opened the straps on hers, and she shucked into them, rearranging the weight across her shoulders and back until it felt comfortable. He did the same, always looking around, inhaling the smell of mud, and the scent of rotting fish that, by the looks of it, some fisherman had scaled and gutted some days earlier.
“Ready?” she asked, all good to go.
“As I’ll ever be,” he said, tightening the belt of his own ruck around his waist. “Lead the way…”
Willow took off at a good hiking pace, but as soon as they got out of the inlet area, moving to the strip of the peninsula where there was plenty of rushes and underbrush to negotiate, often coming up to mid-torso, growing out of the flat of the land they were traversing. She felt thrilled to be away from all the flying and to be doing something like this that satisfied her curiosity, always having had a love of architecture and archeology. At this time of year, as they trod the trail toward the ancient stone monastery site, there was not a hint of any other human presence, neither seen nor heard.
Roughly one mile from where they’d tied their boat to the wharf, Willow wiped her brow as she continued at a hiker’s pace whenever possible, the rushes and marshy area left behind. Now they were on gravel, rocks and loose soil heading upward along a slope. The trees around them had thinned out considerably, not privy to the water nearer the shore. The sky was now mixed with fluffy white chunks of clouds, sometimes hiding the sun for a moment or two. She heard Shep’s footfalls not far behind her. Her heart sang. She hadn’t been this happy for so long that she almost felt euphoric; barely aware of her booted feet hitting the dry dirt trail.
Willow’s mind turned back to the routine they’d slogged through for what felt like forever; even though their work time with one another was always short and stressful, no time to even sit and chat, there had been a day when Shep had managed to get a few private minutes with her before she had to fly. She could see it now:
Men in small tractors were carrying continuous loads of construction equipment to and from their plane.
She and Dev had had time to go to the bathroom, grab a cold drink and snack at Operations, the control tower area at Bahir Dar airport, and then trot out to the revetment where their Otter sat. It was being loaded to the gills with equipment, concertina wire and a variety of tools needed for the different trades. But Shep had made time out of his impossibly busy schedule to be there and take her aside for a moment just to them. Yes, that day was still wonderful to her in so many ways.
She snapped back to the present: They were climbing one of the peninsula’s many hills, and, as she rounded the trail, she saw the remains of the abandoned monastery. She halted, waiting for Shep to join her. He was sweating, too. The humidity around the lake was always higher than the surrounding areas.
From where she stood, she realized that what she had thought was an island they were on, was actually a peninsular arm jutting out along the shore of Lake Tana after taking out her map to get a closer look at the landscape.
Turning, she explained to Shep that they were still on the shore of Lake Tana and not an island within it.
He shrugged., “It’s a beautiful area whether it’s an island or not,” he murmured, taking a bottle of water out of his pack, drinking half of it, and handing the rest to her.
Willow took it, thanking him. She was beginning to think that Shep really had been making some life changes since their divorce. Even out at the villages, she had sometimes been able to meet him at their dusty airports and see how he worked with the laborers unloading the Otter and with some of his construction team who had driven up in a couple of Toyota pick-up trucks. He was so much more open then, smiling more, sometimes laughing, which wasn’t like him at all back in Afghanistan with his men and the Afghan soldiers. She drank deeply, then capped the bottle and handed it back to him, their fingers meeting. Her need for him was always present. And her pain over the way he had hurt her before had been dissolving during these months of working together. “Thanks,” she said, wiping her mouth and then sliding her hands down her olive-green khaki trousers to dry them.
“Tell me about this place?” he urged, looking around.
“This was a fourteenth-century Christian church built by the local religious group here around Lake Tana,” she said, gesturing to the piles of rubble. “They made bricks from the mud, collected gravel and rocks and put them in a patchwork to create the building.” Taking her hat off and wiping her brow, she saw Shep’s immediate interest in the disheveled monastery. He was an engineer. A structure like this, although long ago destroyed and left in ruins, got his immediate interest. “The early Christians built monasteries and nunneries all around Lake Tana,” she added, walking forward toward the heaps of rubble that had once been a standing church. “There’s a lot of monasteries still working on the islands of Lake Tana.” She wrinkled her nose. “The only issue I have with them is that women are not allowed to go through and tour them, but a man can.”
“Not very fair at all. I guess they are Christians who still think women are unworthy in the eyes of a male god. Yes?” Shep replied drily and he shook his head.
She snorted and settled her hat back on her head. “To say the least. But here? Since it is a destroyed monastery and no one lives here or takes care of it anymore? Men and women can come here and look at what’s left of it.”
Shep walked slowly, stopping often around the top of the hill, studying the bricks, the wood that lay dry rotting here and there. At one point he knelt down, sifting his fingers through the dry dirt, picking up hardened yellow reeds that had once been the thatched roof over the main building. “It’s a shame that this was let go… to come to this.”
Willow joined him, standing by his shoulder, looking around the shady hill, appreciating the light breeze through the eucalyptus limbs. “UNESCO has been working here for decades to help save the forty or so churches and monasteries that are still being used around the lake. One’s like this; they were built in a circular style with brick, mud and wood. A thatched roof was put on top of it. All the structures, even the ones that are still operating, need constant maintenance. UNESCO is helping to save them and that’s good. At one time, though? I’m sure this monastery held beautiful, sacred religious objects and art, but it’s all gone, now. Either stolen… or the priests took what was here and transferred it to another church or monastery.”
Shep moved his fingers over a brick that had broken, looking at the stones, reeds and mud that had originally created it. He stood, holding it between his hands. “This is a beautiful place for all this to have been built on.” He turned and he could see Lake Tana shimmering in the distance, a pale blue, a number of reed boats out on its smooth, glasslike surface. “It would take an archeology team of specialized experts to reassemble it at all.” He walked over to a once-dark wooden archway that had cracked, peeled and broken into several pieces. Leaning down, he moved his hands over the roughened, sun-bleached wood.
Willow couldn’t help but remember the same feeling, as if his fingers, as they trailed down the wooden archway’s roughened, splintered surface, were skimming over her body instead. She placed her hands on her hips, appreciating the quiet beauty of the place, ignoring her building need for Shep, and said, “I came here quite often the first year we were here. Usually, Dev came with me. We’d hike up here, have lunch and just be. I love the energy in this place, it’s very calming and sacred feeling.”
“It is,” he agreed, straightening. “Those wooden arches were probably the entry point for the monastery.”
“Yes. As time goes on, and we’re not so frantic in the building-up phase? I can take us out to some of the islands to see Debre Libanos, Ura Kidane Mihret: working monasteries. Most of them are round in construction and with thatched roofs, but not all of them. As an engineer, I think you’d find them amazing and worthy of scouting out. And since you’re a man? You’ll actually be allowed inside the church or monastery to see the inner structure of them. Lucky you.”
“I wish you could come in with me,” he said, giving her an apologetic look. He continued to walk around the hill, inspecting items, large and small.
Willow followed him at a distance, smiling to herself. Shep was in his element. He loved learning, and she knew he’d never seen this type of building before. His focus was intense as he would stop, kneel, always touching wood, brick, or dig into the dirt, his curiosity always high and present. The breeze strengthened and she closed her eyes, lifting her face to the blue sky as sunlight lanced down between the white bark of the eucalyptus trees that crowned the area. Happiness overwhelmed her for a fleeting moment. Just that ripple of joy sent hope flowing quietly through Willow. She’d finally, grudgingly, that one night, known she still loved Shep. She’d never stopped loving him since, but she hadn’t been able to live with him. Not the way he was earlier. For some reason, Willow thought that, after she’d divorced him, that love would stop. But it hadn’t, much to her shock and surprise. She had no idea where that expectation had come from. Maybe based on other friends who’d divorced and moved on?
The love was still there, just as strong as before, despite the head-butting they’d gone through, the realization of which left her stunned and a little dazed. What the hell was she going to do about it? How was it affecting him ? Or was it even? She was too busy in the buildup phase to have time to honestly sort it all out.
Shep’s profile was strong. She’d often thought his face was hewn from granite. He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome, but he had an arresting face, built upon life outdoors, braving the elements, not to mention whatever hard work was thrown at him. Willow knew they needed time to absorb what was happening to them. In some ways, she was reeling from it. Never in a million years had she entertained the thought that, once they met again after their long absence from one another’s lives, her love for him would rise and be even stronger than it had ever been before. She scratched her temple, pushing wiry tendrils of hair away from her cheek. To say she was in mild shock was an understatement. Did she dare allow for the possibility of Shep walking back into her life once more? Was he feeling the same? Grimacing as she took the short steps down the hill to follow him around it, Willow warned herself that she might be getting out over her skis. One honest gut-wrenching talk with him two weeks earlier didn’t mean he felt like she did at all.
***
Shep appreciated Willow’s patience as he nosed around like a birddog on a scent. The hilltop was large and round, some half-buried and scattered remnants everywhere. For him, it was like a treasure chest to be investigated thoroughly, completely; a picture of a puzzle, like a blueprint being created in his mind.
About an hour later, he ambled over to where she was sitting against the trunk of a large eucalyptus, opening her knapsack, bringing out their lunch. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he saw that it was around eleven-thirty a.m. Willow had taken off her hat, and her ponytail hung long and frizzed by the humidity. Her natural beauty made him want her badly. Willow had not given him the green light yet to do anything that was serious and personal toward her. He was afraid. Hell! Who wouldn’t be? What would she think of him wanting to, somehow, bandage up their past, try and heal it, and start all over again? Was that even possible? Or, was it some ridiculous need of his alone?
Crouching down in front of her, arms resting on his knees, he said, “Hungry?” That was a loaded word and he saw her take it many different ways as she unpacked the plastic bags holding their lunch.
“I think,” she laughed, “I’d better ask HOW you mean that word, Porter. You got that animal look in your eyes.”
“Does that bother you?”
Her green eyes grew a darker hue as she consider his tease. “No.” She handed him a sandwich in a plastic bag. “I don’t scare easily. You know that.”
“You’re a very brave person,” he admitted, taking the sandwich. “Thanks,” and he sat down, cross-legged, a few feet away, facing her. “I’m hungry,” he added, opening the tuna sandwiches she’d made the night before.
Willow ignored the layers to the word and pushed an opened bag of potato chips between them. “Makes two of us.”
A silence settled between the two. The few birds that had been chirping somewhere above them, stopped singing. Shep broke the quiet, saying, “There’s a lot going on. I was hoping, somehow, we might get a few hours of downtime during all this.”
Her lips quirked. “Dev and I are working from dawn to dusk, and sometimes, into the night to get the equipment up to the villages for the next morning’s construction.”
“You are working hard,” he agreed. “My two teams are working sunrise to sunset, too. Everyone knows we’re on a razor-thin wire of calendar dates with each Delos school and when it should be finished.” He enjoyed the sweet pickles, and the slight taste of mustard and mayonnaise she’d added to the tuna. His heart widened with incredible joy as he saw laughter come to her eyes.
“You included, right?” and she picked up a potato chip, popping it into her mouth.
“Yeah,” he sighed, giving her a warm look, “I suppose so, but as the project engineer, I have a lot of different baskets with different things in them to keep my idle hands damned busy.”
“No kidding,” she muttered, enjoying her sandwich. She wanted to drown in his eyes, remembering the tenderness he could share with her, but she pushed that all away. What she really wanted to do was shove the food aside, say to hell with it, and grab Shep and demand how he was feeling about them. Was he even going up and down like she was in her heart? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d felt this way. He’d been so conservative when she first met him, and his idea of lovemaking had been bed only. That changed very quickly because Willow saw opportunity everywhere. And she saw him change his mind, too. She saw a look of deviltry come to his gaze. “Are you trying to read my mind?” she asked.
Feigning ignorance, he said, “No, why would I even need to?” And he grinned. “You were always easy to read on the outside, Willow. You’re like an open book.”
“Yes, and you were like a diary: closed and locked up,” she muttered, frowning. Okay… that neediness for good sex was begging her to throw caution to the wind. She’d done it many times before with this man and he’d always been right there for her, no wilting lily himself. That was one of the many things she had loved about Shep: He was strong and brave and steady when he needed to be there for her. And when that wasn’t required, it was like a reset in him to go back to his unassuming, quiet, contemplative, thoughtful nature. Otherwise, he was a pretty easy-going guy and that had always appealed strongly to her because she disliked loud, braggart, toxic alpha types. He was an alpha, just one of the quiet ones… until it became necessary to show otherwise.
“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but my fears about having to meet you once more after these last three godawful years, had me running scared.”
“Me too, Shep. When I got that email from Wyatt, I froze.”
“Really? You too? What is wrong with us? We’re not unintelligent people, Willow. And maybe that’s part of the issue? We’re too damned smart for our own good? We read things into situations that aren’t there? We assume too much? Not enough? After you left me, I tore myself apart mentally trying to figure out what I’d done wrong and how I could fix it.”
“Ditto,” she murmured, finishing off her sandwich, licking her fingers. “It takes two to make a marriage and it takes two to break one up. I never entirely blamed you for it. I was at fault, too, and I wish I had told you that before I walked out on you.”
“It’s always easy to see the other person’s weaknesses, but ignore our own,” he said, shaking his head.
“I went there, too. I admit it, I have a hair-trigger personality, I’m impatient, I get a fixed idea in my head and that’s all I see. I don’t always hear the other person’s conversation like I need too. I filter it out, and that’s not good, either. I know where my faults and weaknesses are, Shep.”
“Join the club,” he grumped, giving her an understanding look, his sandwich gone. He reached for a handful of chips from the bag, “but it’s terribly human. Isn’t it?”
“No argument there. Has three years really changed us that much? Or maybe we’ve grown up a lot more than we realized over that time frame?” she wondered out loud, pulling out a bag from her knapsack containing more sweet pickles.
“I know the time has shown me a lot. Maybe I needed three years to dissect what I’d done wrong to cause you to leave me, Willow. I’m slow in some respects,” and he gave her a sad look.
“Well, I was a jet jockey going Mach three with my hair on fire and you were driving around a D-9 Caterpillar bulldozer that went five miles an hour. We weren’t the same speed and never will be.” She sighed, her voice lowering as she held his gaze. “Emotionally speaking, you barricaded yourself against me, but now, I understand a little more, why, Shep.” She gave him tender look. “You took a mortal emotional blow when your father left and divorced your mom.”
“I’m not into psychology 101 like you are, Willow. I’m a nuts-and-bolts kind of guy. I see black and white. All you see is the gray. I’ve been taught to look at something, find out what’s wrong with it and then fix it.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “Exactly. But every man I’ve ever met wants to FIX what’s wrong. If I cry, you want to fix it. If something doesn’t go my way, you want to fix it.” Frustration laced her growl. “I wish men would stop trying to FIX things for us women and damned well fix themselves—first. That attitude of fixing drove me nuts. If I cried, I needed to cry. It feels GOOD to cry, and I know I’d told you that many times before. Crying, for me, is a RELEASE. I feel better offloading how I feel through my tears. But men never got that memo. The Patriarchy that runs this world, pure male and mostly WHITE, sent a socialized message from the time you were born until you die, that men don’t “feel” and they don’t “cry”. They have to be the tough, strong and silent types. You know what I say to that?! A big, fat ‘Phooey.’”
Wincing, Shep looked away and nodded. “Yeah, I got that memo since we broke up.” His brows fell, his voice roughened, and he said, “When you left, I cried. Many times. Does that count?” and he gave her a wary look, unsure of how she would react.
“Yes, knowing that means a lot to me, Shep, that you can admit you can let down, let out your emotions. I hadn’t seen much evidence of your fix-it mode with me shutting down until just now, but honestly, we rarely see one another even now as it is. This construction job is on a tight timeline. I fall into bed every night, exhausted.”
“I wish Delos could spare two more pilots to give you and Dev some rest.” He sighed and shook his head, his voice low, “I know my bad traits, Willow. And I’m trying my damnedest to fix myself , not you.”
She gave him a look of understanding and nodded. “Well, I’m sure at some future point, I will cry and then we’ll see how you handle it, big guy. Fair enough? The proof’s in the pudding and words are nothing compared to actions. Right?”
He offered the last of the chips to Willow, but she shook her head. He finished them off instead and, crunching them, said, “Right.”
Stretching his legs out, next to hers, hands behind his head and pressed in the leaves, he said, “It always bothered me when my mom would cry.”
This was new! Inwardly, Willow perked up, all ears. Was he opening up more to her? She could barely believe that he was capable of doing so. “And I’m sure your dad tried to fix it?” she asked.
“Yes. But when you’re a small kid and your mother is crying? It does something to you, Willow. At least, it did me.”
“Well, on that one, we’re all built the same. If our mother cries, no matter what our age, we’re deeply affected by it and we should be. But when you entered our relationship, your rules have had to apply. Every time I cried, and it was usually because of a mission I’d just flown, you wanted to fix it. All I wanted from you…. all I really needed, Shep, was for you to hold me, rock me and let me sob my brains out in your arms. I just needed you to be a safe harbor for me. And you always asked me why I was crying instead of just hauling me into your arms and giving me that protective, warm place with you. There’re times for logic, but there’s also time for emotional reactions and needs, instead.”
“I had my therapist friend clue me in on that one, too,” he admitted. “I understand now. As a boy, you’re taught NOT to cry. And no one taught me how to deal with someone who did cry. Men are supposed to suck it up, swallow whatever they felt and bury their feelings, forever.”
Willow knew she was out on the end of a fragile limb with him but asked a very important question. “Your dad didn’t want you crying, either?”
Shaking his head, he tucked the plastic bags back into her heavy pack. “No. I got the same brainwashing message that men and boys never cry. You just swallow it whole and pretend nothing is wrong.”
“I could see that if you’re in a combat situation, but any other? That’s not dealing with your feelings.”
“Combat makes every man cry.”
“Do you cry now?” she wondered, asking the question gently. His face softened for a moment, and he looked away. Willow could feel a barrage of sudden emotions swirling around in him. He turned and looked directly into her eyes.
“I cried when you left. I’ve never cried so much in my entire life as the first year you were gone. I couldn’t stop crying. I holed up in the barracks, in my officer’s quarters, and let it go. Then,” he said with a shrug, “there would be times, even months later, when I’d suddenly need to cry. Luckily, I could get off by myself, hide, and let go. At first, I couldn’t figure out why these sudden storms of tears would attack me. Later, I figured out it was the cycle of grief because I’d lost you, Willow.”
Wincing, she stared down at her hands clasped in her lap. “It was hard on both of us, Shep. I’m sorry I hurt you like that. That wasn’t my intention.”
“I know that now,” he offered quietly. He sat up, crossing his legs, looping his arms around his knees. Holding her sad gaze, he added, “I found out the hard way that crying isn’t that bad. Like you? After I cried? I felt better, not worse. So, I began to understand what you meant when you tried to train me up on simply letting you cry. I just wish that you’d told me you wanted to be held while you cried. My father never held my mother at times like that, either.”
“Yeah, like father, like son. That’s so sad,” Willow murmured. “It’s a relief valve and we need it very badly living on this planet.”
Shep kept his head down, replying, “Lesson learned the hard way, believe me. I was also afraid if anyone saw me crying? That they’d out me, mercilessly tease me, or embarrass me.”
“Another man might do that to you, but a woman wouldn’t. Hell, she’d welcome you with open arms. Crying together is good for our hearts and souls. It’s healing for both parties.”
“It’s been a big learning curve for me, Willow and I don’t profess to know it all. I’m sure as we continue to work together, there’s going to be issues to work out from time to time.”
She was grateful for his can-do attitude about his own weaknesses he was trying to correct. “Look,” she said, “I’ve got my own issues to work on, too, Shep. It’s not just you are doing the hard work of changing and trying to be a better all-around human being. And if we both want this to change, we both have to come at it without ego and pride. I just couldn’t do this again and fail,” and her voice broke. Willow swallowed hard, avoiding his sharpened look. Forcing herself to hold his gaze, she saw incredible yearning in his eyes for her alone. It felt so good to be wanted with love, and she acknowledged that it was, indeed, that love still existed between them. “I WANT to work at this,” she whispered, swallowing hard, “and I’m scared as hell because I don’t know where it will go or how it will ultimately work out.”
He leaned forward, moving his hand down her lower pant leg, a caress. A silent commitment. “We want the same thing. This is a second chance for both of us. I have no idea what will happen, either. Maybe start by becoming good friends again?”
Her skin tingled as his hand left her leg. “Everything’s moving too for me, Shep. Aren’t you scared? I know I am.”
“Yes, but I guess I’m scared and hurtling forward like a loose cannon of sorts,” and he grinned belatedly.
“Usually, I’m the one going Mach 3 with my hair on fire,” she admitted sourly, absorbing the surprising changes she was seeing in him.
“And usually? I’m the stick-in-the-mud having to be dragged forward by you.”
“Is there a middle ground?” Willow wondered aloud.
Shep held her gaze and said, “Don’t you think we’re finding that middle ground right now? That gives me hope.”
She thought a moment, his honesty breathing new life into what she thought was a lost cause, then replied, “Okay… I can’t disagree with us both working toward the middle. I can’t handle anything else right now. My focus is on my job and meeting the construction schedule. I think our personal lives have to remain just that: secondary to the demands on us right now.”
Nodding, Shep replied, “We just need to talk, Willow. And talk until we both understand what the other wants. I know we can do this…”
Suddenly, popping sounds erupted around them. Willow froze for a second. Bark by her head splintered, exploding outward. Shep was on his feet in an instant, drawing his weapon as he turned, placing himself between the barrage of bullets and where Willow sat against the tree.