Scattered Seeds

Chapter Thirteen

"Jessica," As Sy called out from down the hall.

The threesome paused just outside the bathroom to turn their attention to the UNICEF director.

"You asked about the pumps," As Sy said, catching his breath after jogging the long corridor. "If you don't mind, I'd like to show you the workshop before you clean up."

Jess's face lit up with delight, while Tom's countenance fell in disappointment.

Of course Jess would rather discover the workshop than shower with him.

"Sure!" Jess replied with eagerness. She turned and gave Luke and Tom a half-apologetic shrug. "You fellas enjoy your, ah," Jess's eyebrows rose and fell with sarcasm, "time together. I'll catch up with you later."

She clasped Tom on the shoulder, and then disappeared down the corridor with As Sy; Tom watching her until she was out of sight.

"Sorry, mate," Luke sniggered, pushed the heavy bathroom door open. "No black bikini for you."

Irritated, Tom shoved his publicist through the door.

The workshop was a rather shabby building. The wood siding's flat grey paint was blistered and peeling in spots, and the three wide steps leading up to the covered front porch sagged in the center.

The screen door slammed shut behind them when As Sy led Jess inside; a sound that reminded her of summers spent long ago at her grandparents' country home. The whine of the door's spring and the thud of it hitting the jam were quite comforting, to be honest.

"Cabaas did not clean up before he," As Sy paused in solemnity. He traced over the handle of a screwdriver on the long workbench that lined the far right wall. "Departed."

Jess looked around. Two incandescent light bulbs hung from the ceiling to her left; one in the front of the building, the other towards the rear. There were no globes covering them, just long pull strings dangling down. They still swung from As Sy turning them on; their soft glow moving shadows back and forth across the large room.

Stacked cardboard boxes formed a haphazard tower in the far corner. A long dresser with a small, blotchy mirror above it was on the left wall, and behind a bamboo privacy screen she saw an unmade double bed, toilet, and sink.

It unnerved Jess to think that a dead man was the last to sleep in that bed, and she resolved to strip and wash the sheets and pillowcases. If she was going to spend any amount of time in the workshop, Jess did not want to look over and see the haunting impression of Cabaas's last rest before his final rest.

A florescent light ran the length of ceiling above the work bench on the right wall, and another just like it was over the metal desk a few feet in front of the bench. Tools of all sorts littered the bench and the desk, as well as diagrams of the pumps and miscellaneous nuts, bolts, and washers.

"These are in Somali," As Sy apologized as he looked over a diagram he held in his hands. "I don't know that they'll be of any use to you."

Jess regarded the depictions when she came to stand beside him, and then looked up at the dark skinned man.

"Pictures are pictures, regardless of language," she said with confidence. "I'll figure them out."

As Sy grinned down at the American woman, glad to have someone show an interest in taking up the pumps project.

"Where have you been?" Tom asked when he found Jess pulling luggage from her room in the dormitory later that evening.

She'd been missing for hours while the rest of the team washed up and enjoyed their suppers.