CHAPTER SEVEN
His eyes were swollen from lack of sleep, or was it from the whiskey?
Both probably, he thought as his third—or fourth—drink slid down his throat, the burn of the alcohol less intense with each shot.
He’d tried to stay away from it, but on the third day of searching for Sidney, with no sign of her, the promise of an alcohol-induced oblivion had supplied a companion.
He knew where Kamal—his host family’s father kept it, and Kamal had offered Greg a drink several times in the past month as their relationship grew.
Greg had always declined, knowing he and alcohol never led anywhere good, but the stress of the past few days was too much.
After everyone had gone to bed, he took the bottle and set up for the night in the medical hut.
He checked his watch, but it had been dead for the better part of two days.
He just kept forgetting to put it on the charger.
They had searched for her the night of the attack when Greg came back from the field hospital and realized she was missing.
They’d found the Rover sunken down into a bog, and the bin of medical supplies a few yards away, smeared with blood.
She was out there, wounded, but he was sure she wasn’t dead—he would know.
He would feel it. She was just…gone. Gone where? Why was this happening to him?
He knew why he was drinking—tomorrow, he had to call Sidney’s mother and tell her she was gone—no, not gone. She was not gone—she was missing and they would find her. His hope was wavering. He could feel it, but he wasn’t about to give up yet.
They had informed the mission of their predicament, and the mission approved both medical and search teams, but the reinforcements wouldn’t arrive for another five days.
Greg proved good for nothing other than searching for Sidney.
He’d rallied groups of Makian men to canvas the jungle, the chaos of it all helping him to stay above the pull of emotions threatening to take him down.
But at night, when they had to stop searching, with little to no clues as to where she was, or if she was still alive, he couldn’t fight it anymore.
Why, dammit? Why was this happening? He’d gone over and over the day she’d disappeared, piecing together what he thought must’ve happened.
Why had she left camp? Why hadn’t she stayed put like he’d told her?
Damn her independence. She never listened, never thought the rules applied to her. Now look what she’d done!
He let his imagination create a different reality. What if she had stayed right where he’d left her, shook up a bit, maybe, but intact—with that steely veneer she so capably pulled over her emotions.
The next few days would’ve been somewhat normal.
Should he have agreed to saying their vows here?
To get married on the beach like she’d suggested?
He hadn’t wanted to rush into it, but now he wondered regretfully, if things would’ve turned out differently.
They could be enjoying a day or two alone in a hut, discovering each other’s bodies now as husband and wife.
He felt his body stiffen at the useless day-dream.
This could implode his career before it even got off the ground!
He flung the paper cup across the room. The lack of violence from the lightness of the cup seemed to mock him, so he picked up the trashcan and flung it—the clatter of it giving him a bit more satisfaction.
The door creaked and Rachel entered, her eyebrows raised in slight apprehension.
“Throwing things, I see,” she said, as she picked up the trash that had scattered across the floor. Greg said nothing but turned his back to her, his eyes filling again with tears.
“You need to get some sleep,” came her soft reply.
“I can’t sleep,” he stated, when he turned he saw Rachel fingering the half-empty bottle, ready to feel her judgment, but instead she picked up a cup of her own.
“Well then, at least let me join you. Drinking alone is just sad.” She poured the medicine cup full and downed the amber liquid, pouring another one for him. He came closer, his head already addled—he knew he shouldn’t, but pushed the thought away with another swig.
“Did you find anything out today with the consulate?” Even he heard the slur in his words. Rachel took another shot and shook her head.
“It’s like what we thought. The tribes don’t talk to each other.
Everyone keeps to themselves and no one feels the same urgency to help find Sidney like we do.
I got a few different scouts in each of the neighboring villages keeping their eyes and ears out for any clues about an American woman, but even that was bought with no real guarantee they will stick to their end of the bargain.
Here, sit down.” She guided him to the chair as the room spun around him.
“We’ve done all we can, Greg…she’ll either turn up, or she won’t and—”
“No, no, no!” he swung his arms like he was swatting away the doubts like flies. She caught his hand and held it, her dark eyes finding his.
“You and I both know what it is like out there, and while there may be some tribes like Makia, who might take her in and protect her, there are just as many who would take her and exploit her for their gain. She could be halfway to Europe by now for all we know.”
“No, no…Rachel, just, please…” Greg stood abruptly with the new thought of Sidney gone from his life forever.
Rachel moved closer, “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you may have to come to the realization that we may never find her…”
“It’s only been three days!” Greg broke down, weeping, his hand over his eyes.
“I know, I know…I’m sorry. It’s the pessimist in me.” Rachel wrapped her arms around him in a comforting gesture at first, which soon become more. She caressed his back slowly.
“Rachel…” he whispered, but didn’t pull away.
“Do you know how hard it’s been for me?” Her voice thick with emotion. “Working alongside you over this last month?” She broke the hug to touch his face. “Seeing you relate with the kids, effortlessly making connections with some of the elders?”
Her dark eyes filled with tears and he clenched his jaw.
“I’ve tried…I’ve tried not to notice the way your eyes light up with laughter, or how much you care for your patients.
I thought when Sidney got here it would be easier, because I would see you two together and know you couldn’t be mine,” she laughed gently, “but it just made me so jealous,” she finished more seriously.
Her hand ran up his arm and his skin prickled with goose flesh despite the heat. “And now, seeing you like this,” her hand cupped his cheek, the feel of it sending warmth through his whole body. She brought his forehead to hers.
He could smell the alcohol on her breath, the faint sweetness of her sweat, and the acrid scent of fading bug spray.
“I just want to make you feel better.” Her mouth covered his and he found himself kissing her back in a fog of grief, his body stiff with need.
Without another word he let her lead him into the unlit recess of the adjoining room.