A Weldon Family Christmas: A Southern Steam Novella (Weldon Brothers) by Jennifer Saints

Blood trickled down her side, prompting her to examine her right shoulder.  Just below her right collarbone she had a round wound that oozed blood.  As she touched it, she could tell something hard was embedded in it.  She tried to press it out and nearly fainted from the pain.  She needed to pad the wound and stop the bleeding.  Feeling exposed and vulnerable, she stripped to the waist and took off her bra.  Using the cups as a dressing, she applied pressure to the wound and tied it tightly in place.  A red stripe marked her chest from where the shoulder strap had bruised her.   She shivered harder and slipped back into her uniform.
    Next she examined the pouch the boy had given her.  She found a pocket knife and about a dozen rambutan fruits.  Looking like red spiny sea urchins, the grape-like fruit made a nice jam.  The boy must have been out collecting them for that purpose.  She’d apologize later, but decided to eat one.  Her body needed sugar to counteract the effects of shock and adrenaline.  Getting to the fruit inside was no easy task.  She was so distracted that she almost blew her cover.  If a soldier hadn’t coughed, she wouldn’t have heard them coming.  She kept her wits, stayed still, and waited.  Until she knew whether he was friend or foe passing by, she barely breathed.  She was rewarded with a whispered order in Vietnamese moments later.
    Emma prayed hard.  The men could have been friendly Vietnamese, but she wasn’t about to take the chance.  It was a long time before she went back to peeling the rambutan.  Only now, as the jungle sounds filled in the void, did she find a measure of comfort in them.
    After eating the fruit and throwing the peeling as far away from her as she dared, she cut a number of leaves to make a pallet to sit on and protect her from most of the creepy crawlies on the ground.  Supporting her back against the bamboo and wrapping her skirt tightly around her bruised legs, she relaxed enough to take a thorough assessment of her condition.  Besides the wound in her shoulder and a wrenching pain in the muscles of her neck, she was relatively uninjured.  She was damn lucky to be alive.
    Ginny and the pilots were dead.  Emma swallowed the hard lump in her throat.  Because she suggested Maggie to switch places with Ginny, Ginny was now dead.  It was Emma’s fault. The soul-deep pain of guilt and loss made her stomach churn.  She should have died in the crash and Ginny should have survived.
    Emma lost track of time and before she realized it, dark had descended and she had to ward off the mosquitos, ever fearful of malaria.  Where was the boy?  Why hadn’t he come back for her?  With the night upon her, the jungle sounds turned menacing.  The screech of a monkey became a murderous cry.  The least rustling of the leaves became a slithering snake.  She shivered harder and closed her eyes to pray for strength.  Turning her thoughts to John, she wished she’d been able to spend more time with him.  That led her to remembering his kiss and then dreaming of another kiss.  Though she would have sworn it impossible, at some point during the night, she fell asleep.
     
    “I ’m not sure if I should kiss you, fall on my knees and cry, or yell at you for being a stubborn fool.”
    Emma popped her eyes open, blinked with disbelief and would have pinched herself if she weren’t already throbbing from pain.  In the predawn light, Lieutenant John Weldon stood looking at her like some smug god, and the little boy who’d hidden her, was beside him.  She winced as she sat up.  “At the moment I’ll take all three, if it will prove that I’m not hallucinating.  How in God’s name did you find me?  How did you get here?”
    He looked like Heaven and Hell, like a savoir who’d fought through demons to reach her.  His face and green shirt were streaked with sweat and dirt.  He had his rifle slung over one shoulder and a large backpack strapped on.  He