“Do you two know each other?” Ian asked uncomfortably. He could see instantly that something was very wrong. If she could have designed the one scene in her life she didn't want to live through, it was happening at that moment.
“We've met before,” she managed to say politely, and shook everyone's hand. She remembered instantly the stories he had told her about organizing airlifts to areas like this before he married Serena, and having reduced his participation to funding after that. Apparently, he had gone back to a more active role. And when the others moved on, Paul managed to hang back He looked down at India, and was obviously as upset as she was. No one in the world could have guessed that either of them would be there. It was an accident of the worst sort, as far as India was concerned.
“I'm sorry, India,” he said sincerely. He could see how distraught she was. She had come here, to the remotest part of the world, to recover and forget him, and now here he was. It was a nightmare. “I had no idea….”
“Oh, yes, you did.” She tried to smile at him. It was the only thing to do now. “You planned this to torture me. I just know it.” He was relieved to see a smile on her face, however small.
“I wouldn't do that to you. I hope you know that.”
“You might.” She was only half kidding, but she knew their meeting was an accident. “Is this a scene out of the worst movie in your life? It is mine.”
“I know. When did you get here?” He looked worried.
“Last night.”
“We just arrived an hour ago from Cyangugu.”
“So I heard. How long will you be here?” She was praying he was going to say that day only. But no such luck.
“Two months. We're going to be taking supplies in and out for them, but I'll be staying here, and using it as a base camp.”
“Great,” she said limply, still unable to believe this was happening to them.
“What about you? How long are you here for?” he asked cautiously.
“Three or four weeks. I guess we'll have to make the best of it, won't we?” she said, sounding strained. Just looking at him was painful. It was like digging a machete through a fresh wound. He looked better than ever, though a little thinner, and a little drawn, but still painfully handsome, and more youthful than ever. The months they'd been apart didn't seem to have left their mark on him.
“I'll try to stay out of your way,” he promised. But neither of them had understood yet how closely everyone worked here. They were all together constantly all day. This was a real team, and there was nowhere for them to go to escape each other.
“Thanks.” She got up and put her coffee cup on a tray, and as she turned she saw that he was watching her with a pained expression. She wasn't mean enough to ask him how his dreams had been. Hers had been terrifying nightmares, mostly about him, since March.
“How are you?” he asked softly as she started to walk away.
“How do you think?” He nodded, and he couldn't identify it at first, but there was something different about her face. And as she left, he realized with a start, that she had a fresh scar running down one side of her face. He wanted to ask her about it but she'd already walked away. And as he went back to the others, he felt a familiar knife stab. But it wasn't Serena this time. It was India, and everything he still felt for her. He hadn't expected to still feel that way.
Chapter 25
FOR THE next two days, India and Paul did everything they could to avoid each other, but it was obvious to both of them that was impossible, and in the end more trouble than it was worth.
He sat down at the same table where she was eating dinner at the end of the second day, and looked at her in despair.
“This is hopeless, isn't it?” he said in a low voice, so no one would hear him. He would have left if he could, but they were doing important work. And he knew she was covering a big story. Neither of them could remove themselves. It was going to be a rough few weeks for her. And it was no easier for him. His heart ground to a stop every time he saw her. And she was everywhere. A dozen times a day, he found himself looking into her face. And every time he did, he felt even worse when their eyes met. There was something in her eyes, so deeply bruised and painful. Just looking at her made him want to cry, or reach out to her.
“Don't worry about it,” she said in her calm, gentle way. But there was no way he couldn't. It was easy to see what he had done to her. And her lip trembled as she looked away. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to feel the things he had awoken in her, but they had been there since the first time they met, and she realized with chagrin now, that they still were and perhaps always would be. She was beginning to believe this was a wound that would remain unhealed forever. He really was the love of her life. But even lost loves could be forgotten, she told herself. She had been given a superhuman challenge, and it had to be met. Somehow.
Within minutes, the others left the table, and not knowing what else to do, he looked at her, with worry in his eyes. “What happened to you?” he asked. She hadn't had the scar when he last saw her in New York, and it was very long and very fresh. And the day before, when he had seen her in the morning, she had had an orthopedic collar around her neck. She still wore it now and then when her neck hurt. And it had after the long trip. And now he gently touched the scar and she pulled away to avoid his touch.
“It's a dueling scar,” she said, trying to make light of it, but he was not amused. “I had an accident,” she said simply.
“In a car?” She nodded. “When?” He wanted to know all the details, what had happened to her since he had left her. He knew that all the other scars he'd given her were buried too deeply to see, unlike the one on her face.
“A while ago,” she said vaguely. But just looking at her, he knew, and he felt sick.
“Was it right afterward?” He was tormented by the thought of it, and felt even more guilty than he had at first. He knew just from looking at her that it must have been right after he ended it with her.
“That night” was all she said.
“That night?” he repeated, looking horrified. “On your way home?” She nodded. “I knew I shouldn't have let you drive. I had an awful feeling about it.”
“So did I,” she said, thinking of what he had done to her. She might have died. And nearly had. And wished she had for a while anyway.
“Was it very bad?”
“Bad enough.”
“Why didn't you tell me when you called the next day?”
“It wasn't your problem anymore. It was mine.” He remembered then how strange she had sounded when she had called him, giddy and out of it and a little incoherent. But he had assumed she was just terribly upset, which she was.
“I feel terrible. What can I say?”
“Don't worry about it. I'm fine.” But her eyes told him a different tale. She was trying to keep her distance from him physically, since she couldn't otherwise. But so far nothing had worked, and being so constantly close to him, and seeing what was in his eyes didn't help. She knew him too well, and knew his pain, just as he knew hers. And she could see too that he still felt all the same things she did. He always had. No matter what he had said to her, he hadn't stopped loving her. And she could still see it now. Somehow, that made it worse. It was all such a waste. He had wasted two lives, their happiness, their future. She wondered if that was why he had come here too. To escape. Just as she had come here to escape her memories of him. It was bittersweet irony that they had both come to the same place. God's little sense of humor hard at work again. Or destiny perhaps.