10 - Exposed

Days passed. Then a week. Rain either had people seeking shelter at the Red Pony or kept them away depending on the day. Plans for the rodeo entertainment were coming together nicely. Bands had been lined up. Good ones. No experimental chances this time around. The mechanical bull had been rented and was due to arrive at the end of the week, and the hay bales had been reserved from a nearby ranch.

Kelly was counting the liquor bottles behind the bar, taking inventory of the new arrival of stock. Carl was in the large, walk-in freezer in the back of the kitchen making certain to have enough steaks and burgers, the food staple for the duration of the rodeo, with fries or baked potatoes on the side, of course. Tommy had proven invaluable and had grown over the past few weeks with his new responsibilities, taking pride in ensuring that the floor was clean and tables scrubbed. Henry was proud of him. Chances. Sometimes that's all people needed.

Henry sat at his desk, glasses on the end of his sharp nose, his round face tipped over the files in front of him. Invoices. Bills. The mundane but necessary paperwork of running a business. He took it in stride. To have one required the other. Balance of life. He glanced at the clock. Three fifteen. He'd been at it since noon. Leaning back, he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. The angles in his face deepened with the fatigue.

"Looks like you could use a break." The quiet voice startled him, and he lowered his hands to the desk.

Caught, he thought. "I have not called. I am sorry." He tipped forward reaching to gather the papers. "Every time I think of it, either something comes up or it's midnight." Lame excuse, but true. It had been more than a week since her visit to the Rez, and he hadn't even taken the time to pick up the phone. That wasn't like him.

Julia's lips curved gently upward, her denim blue eyes sparkled as she casually leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest. "You told me you were going to be busy. And, the rain…" She grinned. "I've never seen so much rain! That must have put a damper on things, if you'll excuse the pun."

Henry smiled, scooping the files into a pile, placing them on the right corner of his desk. "That is no excuse for being rude or inconsiderate."

She tipped her head to the left looking completely at ease; that curved mouth looking more inviting. God, he was an idiot for not calling.

Stepping through the threshold, she took a seat in a chunky, wooden chair opposite him, shifting to the left to take the weight off of her right side. Dampness and the morning's workout at the gym had made her back and leg twinge. Leaning her left elbow onto the arm of the chair, she smiled impishly, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"So," she smirked "What would your boss say if he saw you behind his desk?"

Henry placed his glasses on the table top and leaned back, lacing his fingers across his hips, his own lips twitching up. "Somehow, I do not think he would mind." They paused, taking a moment, watching each other. "How long have you known?"

Julia shifted slightly. "Known and suspected are two different things. I have suspected for some time, but you just confirmed that suspicion."

"Well played." His nodded slowly, his dark eyes taking on a sparkle.

"No, not played," Julia seriously replied, her brow furrowing slightly. She had no intention of playing him. "Observation. I also suspect that you had reasons for not telling me, and suspect I know what those reasons might be."

He remained silent, watching, waiting.

"You are a man of position and authority," she continued. "A person people look up to, respect, but also one with a great capacity for compassion. I believe you saw an opportunity to be seen as… simply put… you. I didn't know who you were or what you had, and in that, I merely accepted the man. You didn't lie; you simply didn't embellish. Yes, you do work at the Red Pony, and as owner, you probably do do everything." She smiled thinking of his usual response to her question, so, what do you do?

There was a moment of silence, black eyes studying her carefully. "You are very astute," he quietly said.

She nodded slowly. "A person's humanity is measured by the way he handles himself as well as how he relates to those around him: people, animals, the earth. Respect and compassion are important. When we first met, it was over the well-being and safety of a dog. When confronted by the owner, you stood your ground, spoke well, and stayed calm. You showed strength and diplomacy. You took an interest in a stranger, and I experienced your kindness and concern when I left for New York. You involve yourself in the future and well-being of the youth – Tommy, your niece and nephew, children at the center. You are a loyal friend, are diverse in helping others, and still find time to support family and tradition." She paused, letting him absorb her words. "Henry, I respect that, and I like you for you, not for what you have."

He inhaled slowly, deeply, his attention still fixed on her. Maybe she did understand … actually, she pretty much nailed it on the head.

"You are a wise woman, Julia Farine."

She gave him a lopsided smirk. "So I've been told. I, too, have a great capacity for compassion and understanding. Kind of a job requirement." She shrugged. "I'm pretty good at reading people."

Henry's lips eased upward. "Okay." His eyes gleamed. "What am I thinking now?"

Julia pressed her lips together, and drew a slow breath through her nose. "You would like to know more about me."

"As I said, a wise woman." He nodded slowly.

"I've already told you quite a bit. What else would you like to know?" She shifted again in the hard seat, her back starting to cramp.

Henry leaned onto his right elbow, bringing his fingers thoughtfully to his lips, tapping.

"How does a humanitarian aid worker get so badly injured that she is sent away, not permitted to return, and after nearly a year, is still apparently recovering? You still have the limp. Not as pronounce as before but still there."

Wow. Direct hit.

Julia nibbled her bottom lip. Something she rarely did, and could feel her heart banging in her chest. Where to begin? What to say?

"I was in the right place, at the right time, with a really bad outcome." Her voice cracked at the end, her heart forcing the breath from her pained chest.

Henry patiently waited, never wavering.

"I really don't like talking about it."

They sat in silence; a moment… two.

She sighed heavily, arms protectively folded across her chest. "Fine," she finally said. "I was shot."

Henry's eyebrow rose. He hadn't expected that, but stayed quiet waiting for more.

"My team was mediating the signing of a peace treaty between two feuding clans. A third party didn't want the treaty to go through and attacked. Six dead. Thirteen injured. I was one of the thirteen." It was like a dam breaking. The information spewed forward.

"That does not sound like the job of an aid worker."

"Just one of the hats I wear… wore." Julia sighed, correcting herself. "I work with the UN and was a Mission Director in charge of situation analysis and distribution of aid through northeastern Kenya. In that capacity, I was in close contact with tribal leaders and in a position to mediate and negotiate peaceful terms so that all were treated fairly and with respect. It took some convincing to get these two tribes to sit down and discuss their situation, years of negotiation for a treaty. They were nicknamed the Hatfields and McCoys of Mandera because the feud had gone on for so long. When they realized that they were being manipulated by the third tribe, they banded together to stop it. We thought we had dealt with the threat. We were obviously wrong."

Henry pressed his lips tightly together. Small lines at the corner of his eyes deepened. United Nations. Impressive. Tribes. She understood the intricacies of tribal life. That explained so much.

"Was the treaty signed?" He solemnly asked.

Julia's haunted eyes brightened, and a smile stretched across her face. "Yes, and it's still in effect and honored today. That's what Brook called about the other night."

He returned the smile. "And with such success, they still will not let you return? It sounds like you are very good at your job."

"It's easy to be good at something you enjoy." She paused. She hadn't expected to say this much, but he was so patient, willing to let her get it out at her own pace. "No, they won't send me back." She took another breath feeling the pain of each of the wounds. "I took five bullets. Ended up in a coma for a week, was in a hospital for months, in a wheelchair until January. I wasn't supposed to live let alone ever walk again. I've satisfactorily been proving "the powers that be" wrong. And, to top it all off," she grinned sadly, almost apologetically, trying to make the heavy situation lighter, "I suffer from PTSD. I have a pretty good handle on it most of the time but try to avoid crowds and sharp sounds. Fourth of July was a bitch."

The truck backfiring. The snap of the screen door at the community center. He knew there was something wrong when she nearly dropped to the ground at the sound, but she had covered her reaction well. Now, he understood.

"Wow. I really didn't expect to unload like that." She released a breath like a weight had been taken from her.

"And, still, you want to return?" Henry cocked his head curiously.

"Yes. It's what I do, who I am. It's my home. They're my friends, my family. I had no one here. No one. But sadly, I know, deep down that part of my life is over."

There was more, left unsaid, but she'd said enough for now. He could see the pain, the loss, in her eyes.

Henry stood and walked around the edge of the desk, stopping beside Julia's chair, his heart going out to her. She had lost everything and was struggling to put her life back together. A vulnerable situation that he knew he should be careful with, but he needed to reach out. It was who his was. Holding his hand palm up, he silently invited her to take it. She complied, and he gently pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her in comfort. Her head nestled contentedly in the hollow of his shoulder, and she absorbed his strength. What could he say? What words of wisdom could he impart to her? She had been through so much, and he had a feeling there was much more to be told. But, there was nothing he could do but stand there, holding her, letting her know that she was not alone, that she had a place here, that someone cared.