There was no point in pulling out the GPS software now. It was only useful if you knew where you were in relation to the signal. He could hear shouts around him. The other searchers were obviously getting disorientated. Was it safe to continue?
There was no way Evan was going back to the village without Violet. No way at all. “Violet! Violet!” He started shouting like the others, stopping every few seconds to listen for any response.
Nothing. Were they heading in the right direction? He started to move a little more left, his torch trying to find an easier path for their feet.
His shoulders and arms were aching relentlessly as he tried to beat the bushes and leaves back. At least Violet would have been able to see these in the daylight and duck out of their way. He could hear some muttering behind him. How long had they been out here? Were the villagers starting to lose heart?
His torch caught a glimpse of something unusual. A color he didn’t expect to see. He dropped to the forest floor and scrabbled about. A notebook. Violet’s notebook with the distinctive purple flowers. His heart leaped. They were heading in the right direction.
“Look! It’s Violet’s!” He showed it to the men behind him, who instantly shouted to the other groups.
His adrenaline surged. The pain in his arms was forgotten. She must be close. She must be nearby. “Violet! Violet!”
Every step had renewed vigor. His calls were louder than before. His shouts echoed through the forest. All the men were repeating them over and over.
Then he heard something. Something different.
“Quiet!”
He stopped moving and held his breath.
Then he heard it. A hoarse reply. “Evan?”
He’d never heard anything sweeter.
He flung his stick aside, crashing through the forest toward the voice. He burst through into a little clearing. Dark moss, set among some trees. Violet huddled on a fallen tree trunk, her arm around another figure and a little wrapped bundle in her arms.
“Evan.” The relief in her voice washed over him. Her pale face could be picked out easily in the dark night. He crossed the clearing in a couple of strides and pulled her into his arms.
“Are you all right? I’ve been so worried. No one knew where you’d gone.” His eyes caught the woman to her right. “Did the delivery go okay? Is there something we can do for your patient?”
Violet shook her head silently. The men from the village had heard the shouts and crowded into the clearing. One of them rushed forward and took Hasana in his arms, shouting with relief.
Violet felt the tears on her face instantly. She laid a gentle kiss on the baby in her arms. She whispered to him, stroking the skin on his face as she talked to him a little longer.
And in that instant, Evan knew.
It felt as if a hand was squeezing his heart inside his chest. It was the tenderness, the look on her face. Pieces of the puzzle started dropping into place.
Violet was a good doctor—she’d always been a good doctor. But she’d risked her life to stay with this woman. She’d trekked through a forest to keep her, and a baby that she already knew was lost, safe.
Evan’s skin prickled.
No. Not Violet. That couldn’t have happened to Violet.
Things started to jumble around in his brain. The look on Violet’s face when he’d told her she would be working with the midwives.
He hadn’t been able to place it at the time. Had it been fear?
Violet had seemed so at ease with the young children and the babies. Surely she wouldn’t feel like that if she’d experienced a stillbirth? Surely she would want to run in the other direction?
He racked his brain. He tried to remember all the types of work Violet had covered in the past few years at the DPA.
None had been with children and families. None at all. Had she been avoiding that kind of work?
Other things started to come back. The few things that she’d said in the quiet moments they’d had together.
The fact she hadn’t been ready to have a relationship six months ago. Why hadn’t she been ready? He’d wanted to press her, had wanted to ask, but it hadn’t seemed appropriate.
The fleeting look in her eyes when he’d told her about his friend who worked at Atlanta Memorial. It had the biggest maternity unit in Atlanta.
Was it because she’d had a stillbirth? Was it because she’d had a stillbirth there?
But why would no one know about it? The thought of Violet going through something so heartbreaking made him feel sick.
Was this why he’d never heard of Violet having a relationship in the past three years?
Had she been getting over a stillbirth?
His throat was instantly dry. He couldn’t swallow. He’d been in bed with this woman. He’d spent hours in her company.
Why hadn’t she told him about this?
He hadn’t been able to be around her when he’d thought he was keeping secrets from her. That’s what had made him blurt out something he’d kept deep inside for six years.
He’d had to share with her. He’d had to get it off his chest. Because his relationship with Violet hadn’t stood a chance without him being honest with her.
So why hadn’t she told him anything?
He felt a little fire build inside him. There was more than the personal side here. There was the professional side. He was her team leader.
If a personal event could have affected her ability to do her job out here, he should have known about it.
She should have told him. It should have on her personnel file. Someone should have told him.
Nothing made sense to him
.
* * *
Hasana was talking to her husband. She was sobbing and obviously tired and distressed.
Her husband looked over toward Violet and didn’t hesitate for a second, he held out his hands for his son.
Violet held him out with trembling hands and he took him, putting his arm around his wife and the two of them sat together, crying quietly. He cradled his son, stroking his face then looked at his wife. “Bem.” She nodded and put her head on his shoulder as the two of them sat, looking at their child.
Not for Bem the traditional village naming ceremony in seven days’ time. His mother and father wouldn’t have the usual cause for celebration. But naming their baby was still precious to them, and Violet understood that.
Violet could hear the murmurs of the men around her. She heard one of them speak to Evan. “His name—it means peace.”
Violet stood up moved to the edge of the clearing. She wanted to give them space to grieve together as a family, but she also felt as if she was suffocating.
The darkness and heavy air was closing in around her. She was struggling to breathe and she clawed at the loose buba shirt at her neck.
“Violet, what’s wrong?” Evan stood in front of her, his wide chest blocking her line of vision. White. He was wearing white. And it cut through the blackness.
His hand touched her cheek, catching a tear with his finger. He pulled her back toward him and cradled her head against his chest, letting her feel the rise and fall of his chest. Her breathing slowed and her panic ebbed. His other reached up and stroked her hair. “You’re safe now.”
And she did feel safe. It was a relief to finally have some other people around her, to share the burden of being alone in the dark forest with a traumatized patient.