The Agreement by S. E. Lund Page B

Tents and make-shift shacks made out of cardboard
and corrugated metal, held together by rope.
    I stopped talking when we came to a series of
more graphic photos. Inside a medical tent were several babies being weighed.
Some of them looked healthy, others were emaciated, their eyes huge in tiny
faces. Women waved papers over their babies to keep the flies away. Tiny
corpses wrapped up in dirty blankets.

A photo of the open desert, the hard dirt and
the sky almost the same beige color, a few bits of scrub brush dotted across
the landscape. In the distance, Chinua and Alika and their baby Maya alone
against the stark emptiness. Just seeing it brought my emotions to the surface,
my throat constricting.
    "What's this one?" Drake asked,
pointing to it.
    I covered my mouth and didn't look at him.
    "I can't." I shook my head.
    He tried to turn my face towards his but I
fought him, not wanting him to see the tears that stung the corners of my eyes.
I turned my body away. He touched my arm softly, and then let his hand drop and
just that small show of understanding warmed me to him a bit – against my
better judgment.
    Before we got a chance to speak more about the
photos, in walked Nigel and our little bit of private time was over. Nigel
strode right over to us and I smiled with relief. I glanced quickly at Drake
and put my drink down for the hug that I knew was coming.
    "Kate, my dear ." Nigel bent
down to me. "Your father let slip that Dr. Morgan was coming a bit early,
and so I thought I'd be chivalrous and offer my services…"
    We hugged and he kissed me on both cheeks. I was
so glad to see him. He rescued me, and I clung to him as if he were a life
preserver.
    "Can I get you a drink?" I asked.
    "Please." Nigel smiled at Drake but by
his sour expression, it was clear he wasn't pleased Drake was here. "My
usual."
    I nodded and left the two men standing in front
of the wall of photographs.
    When I returned with a glass of red wine for
Nigel, the two men were staring each other down as if in some disagreement. I
smiled up at Nigel and then turned to Drake without meeting his eyes.
    "How is your drink, Dr. Morgan?"
    "Please, call me Drake." He bent down
a bit, trying to catch my eye, smiling. "Considering. And it's still fine,
thank you."
    I caught Nigel giving Drake the stink eye over
my head.
    What the hell was that about?
     
    Guests arrived over the next half hour and I
watched Drake meet and shake hands with two-dozen people. All the while, I
tried to stay close to Nigel, but Drake was determined to prevent Nigel from
acting as my wingman, stepping beside me whenever I was alone. Then Nigel would
come to the rescue and get between us, try to take me over. It was almost
comical to watch.
    A half-hour in, we stood in the living room when
my father pulled Nigel and me back into the study, waving several of the people
he'd been speaking with to follow, including Drake.
    "Kate has some wonderful photographs from
her trip to Africa. Come dear," he said to me, "and talk about your
trip."
    I frowned, not wanting the limelight he was
forcing me into. Once inside the room, the three of us stood in front of the
wall of photographs, each one mounted and arranged in several rows.
    "Go ahead, dear," my father said to
me, ushering me to his side. "Tell us about your trip. Start here, with
this one."
    I recounted arriving in Africa, of the airport
and the questionable plane we took to Niger. I spoke about the UN High
Commission for Refugees aid agency I worked for, my term lasting a month and
how we distributed supplies and formula to mothers and babies in the camps. I
described all the photos with the exception of the one that I couldn't talk
about – the empty desert with the tiny figures in the distance.
    "Tell them about Alika and Chinua," my
father said, touching my back as if to encourage me. He turned to the guests
gathered around. "A couple and their baby that Kate and Nigel rescued from
the desert."
    He turned back expectantly. I