A Woman To Belong To. Fiona Lowe

simple but effective, I can smell the rice soup Sung’s made for us.’ Bec stood up, her usual ‘in-control’ demeanour back in place. ‘Let’s go.’ She waited for him to start walking, as if she didn’t trust he would follow her.

      ‘We need a complete break so how about we eat outside?’ He led the way, hearing her gentle, uneven footsteps behind him, her slight limp more audible than noticeable.

      They sat under the shade of a tree, clutching their bowls of rice soup as reverently as if they were highly coveted and rare French truffles.

      Bec had chosen a position that left a good metre between them. He noticed she did that a lot. In the truck coming up she’d sat so close to the door that if she’d been any closer she would have been outside the vehicle. And the flinching thing when they’d inserted the drip. What had that been about?

      If she feared him, why had she insisted on coming here with him? A guarded reserve and general aloofness toward him seemed to clash at times with real care and concern. But with the women and children she lost that tenseness. He couldn’t work her out.

      She put her bowl down. ‘So we’re winning, right? Today we’ve only had five new cases?’

      ‘We have. This time. But until we can find out a way to truly make a change in a tradition, this sort of outbreak will continue.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes sparked with genuine interest. He could almost see her brain ticking over.

      ‘Human excreta fertiliser.’

      ‘Really?’

      He smiled at her dumbfounded look. ‘The government is making headway by using the local area health workers, but it’s a long, slow haul, especially in remote communities like this. This practice dates back centuries and the beliefs about it bringing good crops are well entrenched.’

      ‘And they only get one crop a year…’ Her voice trailed away.

      She understood. A warm glow burned inside him. ‘That’s right. Plus we’re close to the border with China here and sometimes cholera comes in that way. But no outbreaks have been reported up there so I think this outbreak must have been started with unwashed vegetables and then it was propelled and promoted by a lack of hand-washing and food-preparation skills.’

      Bec pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and smoothed it on her knee. ‘This is a copy of the mud map of the village. Most of the cases came from this area.’ She pointed with her finger.

      His gaze fixed on her fine, tapered fingers as he moved toward her to study the diagram.

      A line of tension ran through her but she didn’t move away. ‘Why did this section of the village get sick and the other areas didn’t?’

      ‘We could surmise that they used the fertiliser.’

      ‘True, but this is also the area where there is the most malnutrition.’ She turned toward him, almost vibrating with excitement. ‘Families all live together or very close to each other so we could conclude that what some extended families do in their daily life can seem to guard them against illness, whereas the practices of other families lead to illness and malnutrition for their children.’

      Her energy encased him. ‘So what are you saying?’

      Enthusiasm glowed on her face. ‘What if we get the women in the village to identify which women and children are not malnourished? If they can make the connection that some families are eating well and are not often sick then surely they will want to find out how.’

      Exhilaration swept through him at her insight. ‘So instead of us teaching a new way of doing things, the villagers discover it and change the way they have been doing things, based on a positive role model.’

      She tilted her head. ‘Yes and no. We foster the change by setting up opportunities like your gardens. We use positive role models and the health care workers.’ She wrinkled her nose in thought. ‘Perhaps cooking classes but they gather the food first…I don’t know, I’m making it up as I go along.’

      He gazed at her, stunned at what she’d just come up with.

      ‘I think I owe you an apology.’

      Lines scored her brow. ‘Why?’

      ‘When I met you in Hanoi and you seemed so vague about what you wanted to do, how you wanted to help, I thought…’

      ‘You thought I was flaky.’

      Her matter-of-fact tone slugged him. ‘Sorry.’

      She shrugged. ‘You had a valid point. I was vague. I do want to fix it all. You’ve forced me to focus. I wanted to rush in and now I see that I need to take my time and work out what I want to do, how I can best help.’

      He shot her a glance. ‘Or how you’re going to generate funds to do it.’

      She sipped her tea. ‘Oh, I’ve got the money, that isn’t the problem.’

      Her naïvety both entranced and frustrated him. ‘It’s going to take more than a few thousand dollars to start up a clinic.’

      ‘Will two hundred and fifty thousand dollars do it?’

      He choked on his tea. ‘You have a quarter of a million dollars at your disposal?’

      She grimaced, her expression unexpectedly hard. ‘I do.’

      Her expression worried him. ‘Are you certain you want to use all of it in aid? I mean, I assume you’ve allowed enough for your own needs.’

      ‘I won’t have anything to do with that money.’ The words, almost menacing, rolled out on a low growl. ‘It needs to work off its origins and do some good in the world. Every child deserves a childhood so they can grow up to be a productive adult. This money will help them achieve that.’

      She stood up abruptly. ‘We need to get back.’

      Before he could start to ask even one of the numerous questions that had slammed into his mind, she’d turned and marched off toward the clinic, her hair tumbling out of its restrictive band, softening the rigid line of her shoulders.

      Part of him wanted to go to her and let his fingers caress the tension from her shoulders, entwine with the softness of her hair…

      Stop it. It was official—sleep deprivation had finally got to him. Massaging her shoulders—it was an insane thought. Besides, she’d hate it. Hell, she’d shuddered when his hand had accidentally touched hers.

      Getting involved with a woman wasn’t an option. He’d made that decision after two failed relationships. Both women had demanded his full attention. He couldn’t offer anyone that until he’d sorted out his own life. Filled in the missing gaps. So why was he wasting time, thinking like this?

      Because she intrigues you like no one else ever has.

      He tried to push the voice away, empty his thoughts but Bec’s voice whooshed in. I won’t have anything to do with that money.

      That statement generated more questions than answers.

      He sighed. He hadn’t wanted her to come on this trip but instead of carrying her, as he’d expected he’d have to, she’d proved her worth in a thousand ways.

      But the more time he spent with her the more he needed to know about her. She was a bundle of contradictions. What lay behind her determination to work here? He’d stake his life it wasn’t just a philanthropic desire.

      Tom understood that well. For years he’d ignored the call of Vietnam. He was Australian. And yet he was Vietnamese. He had Australian parents who loved him. But their DNA wasn’t part of him. And Vietnam continued to call to that empty space inside him that craved answers.

      He pushed himself to his feet. He was working with the best nurse he’d ever met. That was all he needed to know about her. Nothing else mattered. Everyone had their own journey