H.R.H.

“I try to, but they usually laugh at me, a lot more than the women.” She smiled thinking about it. The kids always erupted in gales of giggles whenever she said the wrong thing, which she did often. But she was determined to learn their language so she could speak to them directly.

“Do you give them pens, too?” He was beginning to find her intriguing. She had a kind of quiet, gracious poise that appealed to him, more than he wanted it to. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved with someone here. It would be a lot simpler to just be friends, and he had the impression she'd be good at that, too. She was a good listener, and seemed interested in people.

“Yes, I do,” she said in answer to his question. “Max and Sam buy them for me in cases. Colored pens are always a big hit.”

“I'll have to buy some, too, to give to patients. You'd think they'd want something more useful.”

“Pens are a big status symbol here. They suggest education, and that you have important things to write down. Maggie told me about it when I came.”

“What about lunch?” It was six hours since they'd last eaten, and he was starving. He was holding a nutrition clinic with Geoff that afternoon, where they were going to be giving out food.

“I don't have time,” she said honestly. “I'll grab something on my way to class. I usually just eat fruit at lunch. But they put sandwiches out every day, not just when the visiting team is here.” He was still new to the camp and its habits.

“I was hoping they would. I get so hungry here, it must be the air.” Or how hard they worked, they all did, and he had, too. She had also liked his manner with people. He seemed gentle and competent, and deeply interested in every case. He seemed to respond easily to the warmth of the people he treated. It was easy to see that he was good at what he did. He exuded quiet confidence, and had a manner that assured people he knew what he was doing.

They walked over to the dining tent side by side, and once there, Christianna grabbed a handful of fruit from an enormous basket. There were yogurts there, too, which the camp cook bought in Senafe, but she never touched them. She stayed away from dairy products in Africa. A lot of people got very sick, not just from the major diseases that plagued the area, but also from simple dysentery. She hadn't suffered from it yet, and was hoping to keep it that way. Parker helped himself to two sandwiches, wrapped them in a napkin, and took a banana.

“Since you won't have lunch with me, Cricky”—he smiled—“I guess I'll take mine back to work, too.” The others had come and gone. None of the workers ever lingered at lunchtime. He walked her to the classroom where she and Ushi taught, and then went back to the other hut, to discuss a number of their cases with Mary. “See you later,” he said pleasantly, and then wandered off, looking casual and happy. It was obvious to Christianna that he was trying to make friends, but Ushi didn't think so. She thought he had something a little more personal in mind.

“A lunch date?” Ushi teased her.

“No. I didn't have time. I think he's just lonely without his friends.”

“I think it might be more than that.” Ushi had been watching him for days, and actually found him very attractive herself, but like Christianna and most of the others, she didn't want the complications of a camp romance. And he seemed far more interested in Cricky than in her, she realized. He had made that pretty clear through his friendly overtures to her, and had barely said a word to Ushi.

“I don't have time for more than that, nor the interest,” Christianna said firmly. “Besides, Americans are that way. They're friendly. I'll bet you that in spite of the scheming in the camp, he's not even remotely interested in romance. Just like the rest of us, he's here to work.”