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“That I can’t cook worth a damn,” and he gave her a boyish grin, thanking her for the bowl. Their fingers met.
Willow didn’t want to enjoy the connection, but she did. “I know that. That’s why I invited you down here. Also, because you’re probably going to be eating a lot more Ethiopian food in Addis Zemen than American. There’s no McDonald’s in that town or any other village in the Northern Province.” She gestured to the wat and said, “I didn’t spice it as hot as the Ethiopians like it, but it’s still zesty, so be forewarned. Also, I’ll make up a container of it for Luke. I’m sure he’ll appreciate a home-cooked meal about now.”
“He will. Thank you. Hey, I like zesty,” and he gave her a knowing look that could easily be translated.
“Oh,” she said, filling her own bowl, “meaning you married me and it was a zesty two-year romp?”
Picking up the curled bread, he unfolded it and tore off a piece, dipping it into the stew. “Yes. You made my life interesting, overflowing with vitality and exploration, no question.”
Willow liked that they could talk about their marriage without either of them getting out of whack about it. She dug hungrily dug into her own stew. “We will always be opposites, Shep.”
“That’s what drew me to you.” He chewed on the bread, the honey-like flavor invading his nostrils. “You gotta admit, your red hair was a beacon in that bar.”
She smiled fondly, remembering that first meeting. “If it was such a beacon, then how’d you crash into me? And then you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You’re a Type-A hiding under a Type-B exterior, Porter.”
Gloating, he nodded. “True, I’m low-key on first meeting. Hey, this is really good,” he said, pointing to the steaming bowl.
“Wat is a country-wide stew that is served nearly every day in families here. Good thing you like it because you’ll eat a lot of it over the coming year.”
“You made this?”
“Yes. Will miracles never cease?” and she gave him a wolfish grin. Her heart hammered briefly when he sent back that yearning, heated look of his. Shep never could hide how he felt about her, and Willow was glad for that. The guy might be the world’s toughest safe to crack emotionally, but when it came to enjoyment, to wanting her sexually, it was always right there in his eyes. In his beautiful, sharpened azure eyes that missed nothing.
He said, “I think this is going to work out well between us. You gave a great talk at the briefing.”
“These people need to be brought up to speed about Ethiopia, its culture and people. And the people here… are wonderful. They’re hard-working, love their families, and all they want is to be able to work, till their fields, and survive.”
“Just like in every other country in this world. Right?” Shep replied.
She nodded between bites. Waving the injera bread around, she said, “Yes, but this country is far more stable than most other African countries, which is good.”
“So far,” he murmured, soaking his own bread in the fragrant, reddish-colored stew. “I worry about this Tefere David, though. He sounds like a really sick bastard. Turns my stomach to hear he’s stealing children to sell them to sex traffickers in Europe and who even knows where else. The parents have to be torn up completely.”
“They are,” she said grimly. “We fly into those villages monthly, sometimes more often. If there’s a medical emergency, we’ll fly in day or night, and take the child or adult to the hospital in Addis Ababa for treatment.”
“Do you ever get a vacation?” he wondered.
Laughing a little, Willow shook her head. “Not really. There’s just Dev and me for the upper one-third of Ethiopia where Delos has their charities. We kind of get thrown a bit of slack from time to time, for a week maybe, at most. And even when we do, we can’t leave the country and go home to visit our family. Well, I should amend that because Dev never wants to go home to be with her family anyway; it’s so dysfunctional.”
“What about you?”
She liked that he was now asking personal questions. And that they seemed sincere ones. That was a nice change in Shep that she’d desperately needed. “Oh, I’d love to visit my mom and dad.”
“How are they?”
“Retired. Enjoying life on their five-acre farm outside of Seattle, Washington. My Dad, ex-fighter jock that he is, is now working part time for Boeing in their drone department.”
“What about your mom, Ruth?”
She was amazed he’d remembered her name. Swallowing her surprise, she said, “My mother has her own nutrition business. That way she can stay home, weed her huge garden, canning in the late summer and into the fall, and then grow veggies during the winter in her greenhouse. She’s happy.”
“Are you happy, Willow?” Shep asked, holding her surprised stare.
Taken off guard, she blinked a few times before replying, “Yes, I am. I like being of service. I’d rather drop supplies; food, medicine and clothing, to villages, than drop bombs. There was a hidden part of me; while I loved the adrenaline charge of flying an F-16, I never liked killing. I knew the bombs had to be dropped, but I never gloried in it like other pilots did. People died. Bad people, for sure, but it’s still killing, and I longed for a more peaceful world. At least for me personally, I found one here in Ethiopia… to a degree.”
“I always knew you were a softy beneath that tough, brash jet jockey exterior you walked and talked.” He saw her grimace.
“I think everyone has more than one side to themselves, don’t you, Shep?” Just to be able to talk like this was refreshing to Willow. She’d never been able to entice him into this kind of philosophical discussion before. He seemed relaxed and almost eager to talk with her, which was also new. Her heart warmed. She saw he was honestly trying to invoke those changes he said he’d made.
