“So what about you and our new American doctor?” Fiona asked Christianna, as they got into their beds. “I think he likes you,” Fiona assessed. She loved imagining sex and romance all around her, although there was little or none of it in the camp. They all had other things on their minds, and had set romance aside for the duration of their stays, much to Fiona's chagrin.

“He likes everyone.” Christianna smiled at her with a yawn. She was sorry to see the visiting medical team leave, too. They had been good company while they were there, and had done a huge amount of impressive work. “That's how Americans are. I loved going to school in America. I had a wonderful time while I was there.”

“I've never been,” Fiona commented. “I'd love to go one day, if I can ever afford it.” She made a pittance as a midwife in Ireland, and was making even less here, but it was for a good cause. She had a real calling to do what she was accomplishing with the local women, and had already saved many lives. “I'll probably be poor forever.” She didn't know why, but she always had the sense that that was not the case with Christianna. She wore simple clothes and no jewelry, but she was obviously educated and she had lovely manners, and was kind to everyone around her. Everything about her suggested a genteel background. Fiona had long since observed that she had the generosity of someone very comfortable in her world and in her own skin. There was nothing in her that was jealous or resentful. She seemed to care about everyone, and never spoke of money or the advantages she did or didn't have at home. In fact, she almost never spoke of her home, except now and then her father with great admiration. Fiona suspected but had no way of knowing that she came from a very easy life. It was that word that Mary used when she spoke of her that everyone agreed described her best. Christianna had grace, it was just an air about her, like the smile on her face.

“Maybe we can go to America together one day, if I ever leave Africa, which I'm beginning to doubt. Sometimes I think I'll stay here forever, and maybe even die here,” Fiona said with a dreamy look, as Christianna smiled at her, her head on her pillow, her arms behind her head.

“I wish I could stay, too. I love it here. Everything makes sense here. I always feel like this is where I'm meant to be. For now anyway.”

“It's a good feeling,” Fiona said as she turned off her light. The others still weren't back. Mary had stayed out to enjoy a last night of talking to the doctors. Laure was still somewhere with Antoine, maybe still kissing him, or getting to know him better before he left. The two women could hear laughter outside. And both were sound asleep when the others came in.

Everyone was on hand to say goodbye to the Doctors Without Borders team the next morning. It was one of those gorgeous golden days typical of Africa that kept them all in love with the place. They all hated to see the visiting doctors leave. It had been so much more fun at the camp with them around. And Christianna noticed as she said goodbye to them that Antoine was holding Laure's hand, and she was smiling up at him. Whatever had happened between them the night before seemed to have been a good thing. Laure looked as though she was about to cry when he left.

“You'll see him again soon,” Christianna said confidently as they both walked to work, after saying goodbye to the team. Laure headed toward the office, and Christianna toward the hut, where she visited the AIDS ward every morning.

“So he says,” Laure muttered under her breath, and Christianna grinned.

She found Mary doing rounds with Parker when she went in. He had just finished examining a young mother whose baby had contracted AIDS. Further conversation with her revealed that she hadn't used the formula they'd given her and had given the infant the breast instead. She said her husband had been suspicious of the formula, thought it might make the baby sick, and had thrown it away. It was a tragedy Mary saw every day. AIDS and malnutrition were the curses she was constantly fighting there.

Christianna moved quietly past them to visit the women and children she knew. She didn't want to disturb Parker or Mary, and went about her business in silence, whispering gently in the bits of Tigrinya and Tigre that she had already learned. Both languages accounted for ninety percent of what was spoken in Eritrea. There was some Arabic spoken as well, although Christianna hadn't learned any yet. She was working hard learning the other two, and Fiona was helping her as she was fluent in both, given her extensive work in the field delivering the babies of the local women. The women Christianna spoke to in the AIDS ward had names like Mwanaiuma, which meant “Friday,” Wekesa, which she had been told meant “harvest time,” Nsonowa (seventh born), Abeni, Monifa, Chiumbo, Dada, and Ife, which meant “love.” Christianna loved the sound of their names. The women laughed at her efforts in Tigre, which she didn't speak as well yet, and nodded their approval as she tried to master at least the rudiments of Tigrinya. They certainly weren't languages she'd ever speak again once she left. But they were useful here, for her work with the local women and children, and whenever she moved around Senafe. And the women loved her for the effort she made, even when she made embarrassing mistakes. When she did, everyone giggled in the ward. After she had finished delivering baskets of fruit to each of them, and set out two vases of flowers she'd picked herself, she went to her office to meet with half a dozen young women, to teach them the AIDS prevention course she'd designed.

She was just finishing with the women when Parker walked in, just in time to see her hand each of the women a ballpoint pen and several pencils as they left.

“What was that about? The pens I mean.” He was looking at her with admiration. He had been touched earlier by how kind and attentive she was to everyone in the ward. And he thought the AIDS prevention class she had designed was very impressive.

Christianna smiled before she answered. He was wearing baggy shorts to his knees, and his white coat over a T-shirt. Everything was informal here. “I don't know why, but everyone here loves pens and pencils. I buy them by the case in town.” Actually, Samuel and Max did, and gave them to her when they came back, so she could give them out, on nearly every visit to the ward, and to everyone after each class. “They'd rather have a pen than almost anything except food.” The entire country was fighting a battle with malnutrition. Food was the greatest gift, and the center handed out a lot of it. It was their most important supply.

“I'll have to remember that,” Parker said, watching her. She seemed to have learned a lot in the short time she was there. He had been particularly impressed by her efforts to speak to them in their native tongue. Their languages sounded nearly impossible to pick up to him. He couldn't even imagine managing as well as she did after being there little more than a month. Christianna had been working hard with her translator to learn essential words and phrases in the most common local dialects. “Are you heading over to the tent for lunch?” he asked with a friendly smile. She wondered if he was lonely now that the visiting medical team was gone.

“I teach a class in a few minutes,” she explained, “with Ushi in the classroom. The kids are really cute.”

“Do you speak the local dialects to them, too?” he asked with interest.

“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.