A Walk Along the Beach(55)
This was an important assignment, my most prestigious to date. In the oppressive heat of the afternoon beating down on me, I faced the naked truth. I was scared to death of failing. From the moment I joined the rest of the team, I’d been driven by the fear of failure. I was willing to do most anything to get the picture, and that included putting myself at risk. Danger can be an aphrodisiac for some. Not me. All I could think about was how furious Willa would be if I returned home injured or sick again. The thought made me smile. How important Willa’s opinion had become to me.
Sweat rolled down my back as I bent over my computer, downloading hundreds of photographs. Working in the middle of the day was nearly impossible. The light was best in the early morning and late afternoon. Dawn and dusk. My afternoons were spent downloading and editing, napping when I could, writing, trying to keep cool, and missing Willa. Missing home.
Doug, the leader of our team, returned to our camp, mumbling under his breath about the necessity of a trip into the nearest town. More of a village with dirt streets and a few minor businesses. I barely remembered seeing it when we first arrived. Whatever it was he needed went straight over my head. All I heard was what mattered to me. Small as this village was, there might be an opportunity to find an Internet café. Even the smallest of towns would sometimes boast of one. I was desperate to connect with Willa and check in with my family, too.
When my mother learned I was taking another assignment on a remote island in the Philippines, she nearly blew a gasket. She’s always been a worrier, and my leaving again so soon after suffering with typhoid sent her on a rampage. I was surprised she didn’t connect with Willa and demand that the two of them do whatever they could to stop me from leaving. For all I knew, Mom might have done exactly that.
Three of the five-man team opted to take the hour-long ride into town. The road, such as it was, was unpaved and filled with potholes big enough to swim in. Thankfully, Doug was an experienced driver and managed to avoid the hazards.
At one point we got behind a farmer herding ten head of cattle down a narrow section of road. We were forced to follow him until the path widened enough for us to get past.
While Doug and Larry went about their business, I found a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with Internet access, if you could call a few mismatched tables and chairs on a dirt floor a restaurant. Knowing it would be appreciated if I made a purchase, I ordered a coffee, found a seat, and opened my computer. In my eagerness, my hand trembled. Two weeks, fourteen mere days, out of communication with Willa and I shook like an addict, needing a fix.
Once I was able to log in, I scanned emails until I saw Willa’s name. The first message was brief. After a few words asking about my welfare and wishing me success, she casually mentioned Harper was in the hospital. All Willa had mentioned earlier was that her sister was undergoing a few tests. Whatever the results were couldn’t have been good. I frowned as I scanned her email a second time, hoping to read between the lines. I knew Willa worried incessantly about Harper’s health. Seeing that she didn’t elaborate led me to believe there was more to this than what she was saying.
Perhaps it was the flu? Or a cold? But those rarely led to hospital stays unless they had developed into something far more serious. I pondered her brief message again, remembering Harper’s troubles in making the climb she’d prepared for all summer.
In the space of a single heartbeat it came to me. Could it be that Willa was telling me Harper’s cancer had returned? I didn’t want to leap to conclusions, but my mind refused to let go of the possibility. I felt my chest tighten, and for the next moment it seemed as if my heart stopped. The first bout had nearly claimed Harper’s life. She’d recovered, but I didn’t think Willa ever had. She’d lived in fear of her sister’s future.
After a few deep breaths, I debated how best to respond as I scanned down to her most recent email. I hurriedly read her message. Again, it was short, as if she was afraid of saying too much. She told me she missed me and how she longed for me to hurry home. I felt the angst in those two lines, the fear and tension. Her next words confirmed my worst suspicions.
I’m staying with Lucas in Seattle while Harper is in the hospital. Please, my love, hurry home.
For the life of me I didn’t know how I was going to tell her that it didn’t look like we were going to be able to wrap up this assignment in the time allotted. Already Doug was talking about a two-week extension. From six weeks to eight. Maybe longer.
The one bright spot in her entire email was that she called me “my love.”
I answered her, typing as fast as my fingers could manage, before Doug and Larry returned and I would be forced to leave. I let her know how sorry I was to hear about Harper and how desperately I wished I was there with her. I spoke of the job and what we were doing, the progress we’d made, and how much there was yet to be done.
Looking to take her mind off Harper and her current situation, I described the local people we’d met and worked with, their beauty and willingness to do whatever we asked, their generosity of spirit. I mentioned some of what I’d learned about the culture and how I spent my days and nights.
Hoping a long email from me would help ease her mind, I outlined what a typical day was like for me and the rest of the crew. I mentioned my fears and the importance of this assignment to my career and how most days I felt like I had failed until I was able to review the shots I’d taken. At night, when sleep came, I generally felt like I had the best job in the world. That said, it didn’t nearly compensate for how desperately I missed her, how anxious I was to get home. I assured her I would do anything in my power to get back to Seattle as quickly as I could manage.