Page 29 of Falling for the Enemy

“Fine. But make sure you put the snake far enough away that he doesn’t slither right back inside. According to his belly, he’s found himself a nice little rodent paradise.” I walked to the table and held out my hand. “It’s not poisonous. In fact, it’s the kind of snake you want in your camp because they eat rodents.”

Pam was shaking her head as she took my hand and climbed down from the table. “I’ll take a cute little mouse anytime.”

“Cute little mice can destroy the contents of a pantry in days. Let’s go back to the hut. The men can cook breakfast this morning.”

Pam was quite shaken. Snakes were notorious for leaving people shaken to the core, even the harmless ones like our visitor this morning.

“There must be a way out of here. Maybe Evan and Ian could walk me back to the station. I’ll stay there until it’s time to leave. I just can’t stay here in the jungle any longer.”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone on a scientific expedition realized they weren’t cut out for it. “Tell you what, Pam. Spend the day here in the hut. Read or rest and get through the whole day and night. If you wake tomorrow and still feel strongly about leaving, I’ll get hold of Harold on the two-way radio and see if he can help us out. You’ve had a shock. Most snakes get a bad rap because of the venomous species.”

“And because everything about them is creepy. That snake’s tongue kept flicking out of its mouth.”

“Yes, unfortunately for them, nature made them startling in appearance. Jack—Professor Sinclair—is taking the snake out into the jungle. Give it one day, and we’ll see how you feel tomorrow.” Sometimes, after the shock of a snake sighting wore off, it was easy to push the fear aside. I wasn’t so sure mytheory would work this time. It wasn’t just the snake but the whole camping in the wild thing that wasn’t working for her, and considering she was hoping for nice accommodations and discovered there were literally no accommodations, I wasn’t holding much hope that she’d change her mind in the morning.

Pam had retired to her cot for the day, and the rest of us continued our research. But it seemed the rough start to the morning was only the beginning of our bad luck. Even Nonna’s necklace wasn’t strong enough against the gremlins determined to ruin the trip.

I plucked a Cookeina speciosa, more poetically known as a pink champagne mushroom, another edible fungi, from the loamy soil and dropped it in my basket.

Evan came hurrying over with a massive indigo milk cap. “It’s so blue. It’s so cool seeing and holding these specimens instead of just looking at them in pictures.” He returned to his work area. Jack and Milo had gone off on their own to search for some guava, rambutan or star apples, something other than the dried banana and coconut we had in the mess tent. We hoped some fresh fruit would help persuade Pam that things weren’t so bad here.

I was busy lifting fallen logs and other debris, hoping that I would stumble on a mushroom that was rare enough to be considered a new find, when Jack and Milo returned. Jack cleared his throat behind me.

I stood up from my crouch and turned around. “Good news and bad news.” Jack said. He held up two beautiful fruits. “We found a guava tree. And now for the bad news.” Milo stepped out from behind Jack with a rash that made my knees buckle some in shock. There were red splotches all over his face and arms, and he looked miserable. “It seems Milo is allergic to guava.”

“You poor thing. Quick, let’s get you back to camp for some antihistamines. Is everyone all right? We’re taking Milo back to camp. Head back soon for lunch.”

Jack and I walked Milo back to the camp. “I want to throw myself in the river to stop the itching,” Milo said.

“You’ll be fine with the antihistamine,” I said. “I take it you’ve never tasted guava.”

Milo was quiet. I looked over at him.

“I had a reaction like this to something I tried as a kid, but I honestly couldn’t remember what kind of fruit it was.”

“Well, I think you’ve solved that childhood mystery,” Jack quipped. “He was still enjoying the first bite when I noticed something odd happening to his face.”

We reached the mess tent. Milo took some antihistamine and went to his cot to rest and allow the allergy medicine to do its thing. Jack and I decided to get lunch started. My students, namely Robyn, had worked hard on our chore chart, but a few days in we realized it was easiest just to pitch in when the opportunity arose. And since our assigned cook, Pam, wanted nothing to do with kitchen duties, it was easier to take her place.

“I guess since you risked life and limb to find the guava, the least I can do is cut it.” I reached blindly behind me to the knife on the counter, and somehow miscalculated how close it was to the edge of the counter. My thumb slid across the sharp blade. “Ouch.” I pulled my hand forward. The cut was long and deep enough that it instantly dripped blood.

“Starting to think that guava tree was cursed.” Jack hopped into action. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my hand. “Hold it up above your heart to slow the bleeding while I get the first aid kit.”

I sat at the table holding my hastily wrapped hand up in the air and feeling entirely embarrassed by my clumsiness. Jack returned with the first aid box. He sat down with a serious brow.“Now, my medical expertise is mostly limited to skinned knees and twisted ankles, but let’s see what we’ve got.” He was being facetious, but it was actually kind of cute.

“You’re always much more likeable when you’re—well, I guess—when you’re not being Professor Sinclair.”

Jack looked up at me. “I’m literally Professor Sinclair. How can I not be him?” He shook his head. “Never mind. You’ve had an accident, and you’re in shock, so I won’t take anything you say too seriously.”

“See, there’s the ole professor. Stuffy and less charming.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was a mistake.

His dark brow arched cockily. “You think I’m charming?”

“I just said you were less charming—relative to your usual level of charm, which is abysmal at best.”

“Probably not the smartest decision to insult the medic before he’s about to stitch up a cut.”

I held my swaddled hand out of reach. “There will be no stitching.”

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