Page 87 of The Image of You

I needed it to be the former.

* * *

When we had arrived in Africa, and we flew low over the terrain, I was shocked at the devastation below us. None of the news reports had shown the true, massive destruction the wildfires had caused. Tommy was going ahead with Larry, the journalist, to the clinic. After we separated, Chris and I hit the ground running, constantly moving as we filled memory cards with the horrific photographs. Our guide was amazing, taking us places most people would never see. Image after image filled my camera of destroyed villages, dead and displaced animals, and land that would take years and years to regrow and replenish. By the time I was shaking Chris’s hand goodbye, I was drained. He would now finish on his own, while I headed farther inland to meet up with Larry and Tommy and complete this assignment. Chris would be home before I would, and I made him promise to call Ally and tell her I was fine. I had only gotten one brief message to her, and I knew she would worry. Larry had the satellite phone, so I could use that to contact her.

“Good luck, Adam.”

“You too. I’m not around to pull you away from a crumbling precipice, so be careful.”

He grinned widely. “But what a fucking shot I got—am I right?”

I shook my head. Ten years ago, I would have said the same thing. I snorted—ten months ago, I would have said it as well.

I climbed into the Jeep with my new guide, waving Chris off. I still had a long journey, both by Jeep and plane, to get where I was going.

I thought about Ally the whole time.

Nothing prepared me for what I walked into. A village close to the clinic had fallen victim to the fires, and now the clinic was filled with the wounded and dying. In the blink of an eye, I became a medic, tamping down my revulsion of blood and doing what I could. Dr. Conrad and his wife worked tirelessly, Larry and Tommy pitching in as well. I dressed wounds, cleaned cuts and gashes, washed and tended burns. Peter, as he insisted I call him, and his wife Edwina handled the far worse cases. For two days, I did nothing but work, until finally, there was no one left to help—at least for the moment. As I sat surveying the wounded, watching families cry and mourn their dead, and the fires still raging, I realized I was in far graver danger than I had ever exposed myself to in the past. I would have to work harder than ever to keep my promise to my girl.

When I finally got to hear Ally’s voice and told her what had happened, she immediately realized the serious situation I was in.

“Come home,” she pleaded through the very bad connection. I covered my ear in a vain attempt to hear her better. All around me, a storm was bearing down on us, the rain and thunder moving in rapidly, almost drowning out the sound of her voice. Every room in the building was full, so I had come outside to call her, desperate to hear her voice. I paced up and down the riverbank, wishing more than ever, I was on my way home to her.

“Soon.”

I could hear the tears of worry in her voice. “What if the fires spread and the clinic is caught?”

“It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“You can’t say that, Adam! You don’t know what will happen!”

“The fires are starting to burn out—it’s raining right now. It’ll be okay,” I soothed, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want her upset again, and now I’d added to her stress. The fires had come dangerously close to us here, but we were sure the hazard was past now. The sound of the heavy rain approaching was a welcome relief to us all.

“I want you home.”

“As soon as this is done.”

“No,” she sobbed. “Now. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t—”

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep!” she yelled. “You’re not safe there!”

I pulled on my neck in frustration. “Ally, I’m—”

A scream behind me, the sudden rush of footsteps, and a small body crashing into my legs startled me so badly I swung around, causing the phone to fly from my hand, arcing high and landing in the swirling, rushing water.

I cursed, shouting profanities into the air, wading into the water, though I knew I would never recover the phone.

Peter’s equipment had died only days before we’d arrived. I stared at the murky water, realizing what I had done.

I’d lost our satellite phone, and now I had no way to get hold of her again. None of our cell phones worked here. I had no way to contact Ally.

Time passed in a haze of activities. I was a part-time medic as more people showed up from other places affected by the fires; I worked with Peter on the story, photographing him working and interacting with the people who adored the “pale healer,” as he was known. With his snow-white hair and quiet demeanor, he was a calming presence, no matter what was occurring. His wife was a small, sturdy woman, with dark, flashing eyes and a no-nonsense attitude that was a cover for a gentle, empathetic heart. They gave everything they had to their cause. I pitched in and helped repair broken items, roofs, anything that had been damaged by the huge storms and subsequent wildfires that were ignited by the violent lightning. I helped Edwina with the children, my heart breaking at the sadness I witnessed daily. It was nonstop.

Seeing the desperate need, I sent Tommy with the guide to the closest center to get what supplies he could. I also gave him the information to contact my business manager, John, so he could have more supplies purchased and shipped here. Tommy was gone for three days. When he got back, he told me he had left messages on Ally’s cell phone, explaining about the satellite phone and that we were fine. He also spoke with Sean, who promised to try to get in touch with her. It was the best I could do, although I hated that he hadn’t spoken to her directly. He had been unable to purchase another satellite phone, and I still had no way to contact her myself.

The story Larry was writing would be powerful and moving, and I hoped it meant help for Peter’s work. The pictures I had taken would add so much to it. I swore I would do whatever it took to bring attention to him and this place. I had quickly become fond of him and his wife, admiring their strength and generous, loving spirit. I promised more supplies would be shipped as soon as I could make the arrangements back home. Plans were set for me to leave the next day.