Part 21 (2/2)
The lone spectator heard Kelly's approach. Nathan turned. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips, its tip a red spark in the night.
”I didn't know you smoked,” Kelly said, stepping next to him and staring at the river from atop the bank.
”I don't,” he said with a grin, puffing out a long stream of smoke. ”At least not much. I b.u.mmed it from Corporal Conger:” He thumbed in the direction of the pair on patrol. ”Haven't touched one in four or five months, but . . . I don't know . . . I guess I needed an excuse to come out here. To be moving:”
”I know what you mean. I came out here for the proverbial fresh air.” She held out her hand.
He pa.s.sed his cigarette.
She took a deep drag and sighed out the smoke, releasing her tension. ”Nothing like fresh air.” She pa.s.sed the cigarette back to him.
He took one last puff, then dropped it and stamped it out. ”Those things'll kill you:”
They stood in silence as the river quietly flowed by. A pair of bats glided over the water, hunting fish, while somewhere in the distance, a bird cried out a long mournful note.
”She'll be okay,” Nate finally said, almost a whisper.
Kelly glanced to him. ”What?”
”Jessie, your daughter . . . she'll be okay.”
Stunned for a moment, Kelly had no breath to reply.
”I'm sorry,” Nate mumbled. ”I'm intruding:”
She touched his elbow. ”No, I'm grateful . . . really. I just didn't think my worry was so plain:”
”You may be a great physician, but you're a mother first:”
Kelly remained quiet for a bit, then spoke softly. ”It's more than that. Jess is my only child. The only child I'll ever have:”
”What do you mean?”
Kelly couldn't say exactly why she was discussing this with Nate, only that it helped to voice her fears aloud. ”When I gave birth to Jessie, there were complications . . . and an emergency surgery.” She glanced to Nate, then away. ”Afterward, I couldn't bear any more children:”
”I'm sorry.”
She smiled tiredly. ”It was a long time ago. I've come to terms with it. But now with Jessie threatened . .
.” Nate sighed and settled to a seat on a fallen log. ”I understand all too well. Here you are in the jungle, worrying about someone you love deeply, but having to continue on, to be strong:'
Kelly sank beside him. ”Like you, when your father was first lost.”
Nate stared at the river and spoke dully. ”And it's not just the worry and fear. It's guilt, too:”
She knew exactly what he meant. With Jessie at risk, what was she doing here, traipsing through the jungle? She should be searching for the first flight home.
Silence again fell between them, but it grew too painful.
Kelly asked a question that had been nagging her since she had first met Nate. ”Why are you here then?”
”What do you mean?”
”You lost both your mother and your father to the Amazon. Why come back? Isn't it too painful?”
Nate rubbed his palms together, staring down between his toes, silent.
”I'm sorry. It's none of my business:”
”No,” he said quickly, glancing to her, then away. ”I . . . I was just regretting stamping out that cigarette.
I could use it right now.”
She smiled. ”We can change the subject:”
”No, it's okay. You just caught me by surprise. But your question's hard to answer, and even harder to put into words.” Nate leaned back. ”When I lost my father, when I truly gave up on ever finding him, Idid leave the jungle, vowing to never come back. But in the States, the pain followed me. I tried to drown it away in alcohol and numb it away with drugs, but noth-ing worked. Then a year ago, I found myself on a flight back here. I couldn't say why. I walked into the airport, bought a ticket at the Varig counter, and before I knew it, I was landing in Manaus.”
Nathan paused. Kelly heard his breath beside her, heavy and deep, full of emotion. She tentatively placed a hand on his bare knee. Without speak-ing, he covered it with his own palm.
”Once back in the jungle, I found the pain less to bear, less all-consuming.
”I don't know. Though my parents died here, they alsolived here. This was their true heartland:” Nate shook his head. ”I'm not making any sense:”
”I think you are. Here is where you still feel the closest to them:”
She felt Nate stiffen beside her. He remained silent for the longest time.
”Nate?”
His voice was hoa.r.s.e. ”I couldn't put it into words before. But you're right. Here in the jungle, they're allaround me. Their memories are strongest here. My mother teaching me how to grind manioc into flour . .
. my father teaching me how to identify trees by their leaves alone . . :” He turned to her, his eyes bright.
”This is my home:”
In his face, she saw the mix of joy and loss. She found herself leaning closer to him, drawn by the depth of his emotion. ”Nate. . :”
A small explosion of water startled them both. Only a few yards from the bank, a narrow geyser shot three feet above the river's surface. Where it blew, something large hunched through the water and disappeared.
”What was that?” Kelly asked, tense, half on her feet, ready to bolt.
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