Читать книгу Their Forever Family: Her Family for Keeps / A Father for Poppy / His Little Christmas Miracle - Abigail Gordon, Abigail Gordon - Страница 16

“HE’S NOT DYING.” Blandly, Duncan confirmed her statement.

“But…he’s being…nice, he apologized, he never does that!”

Rebel gave an eye-roll and then looked at Rafael. “You really should be nicer.”

“Why? She’d cry more then.” He glared at Lupe, but softened it with a little smile and held out his hand to her. “Come here, woman. I’m fine.”

“Oh, please, everyone. It’s just fine. He’s fine, and I’m starving.” Duncan took Rebel’s hand and led her to the door. “Come out so no one thinks you’re dying, okay?”

Rafael just grinned. The old goat.

“He’s such a pain sometimes.” Duncan shook his head but his touch on her was gentle as he took her to the table. They made their way along the line, filling their plates, and Duncan introduced her to entirely too many people. Their names would never stick in her brain, she was certain of it.

After lingering over the meal and sharing coffee with the family out on the portál, Lupe approached Duncan and Rebel.

“The clinic is set up.”

“Clinic, what clinic?” Rebel had no idea what they were talking about.

“When I come for a visit, I run a health clinic for a few hours. These folks are the poorest of the poor, most of them come from Old Mexico and have never had regular health or dental care. They have issues stemming from lifelong malnutrition and chronic illnesses. We hope we can help them out and the children that are born here will be better cared for right from the start.”

“I didn’t know any of this.” She frowned. New Mexico was not a developing country, but what he was describing certainly sounded like it. “Most people I come into contact with in the ER have health insurance.”

“These folks don’t.” He shrugged and looked away, but she could tell he cared deeply about these people who worked on his family ranch. “Some of these folks have worked here their entire lives. Poverty, lack of education, and cultural biases have kept them this way. Slowly, we’re helping change their outlook. The kids are blossoming.” He tried to hide it, but a burst of pride pulled his shoulders back. “We even have a daycare and an elementary school on the ranch.”

“That’s amazing.” She leaned I closer to him. “I’m so proud of what you are doing here.” Truly she was. She’d never met a man like Duncan.

“I wish we could do more, but there aren’t enough resources and it’s a seasonal business.”

“Well, what can we do today?” Doing things for others had always helped keep her focus off her family tragedy and doing good works never went out of style.

“Let’s go see what the troops have set up.” Duncan took her hand in his firm grip and led her out to the staging area.

“During chili season we use this open-air shed to roast the chili and get it ready for locals. There’s nothing fresher than produce just picked and roasted within a few hours. Today I have a clinic in it.”

“So, what kinds of health issues do you see with your workers?” Though she’d worked in the ER for years, farming accidents weren’t something she’d had a lot of experience with.

“A lot of things are farming related, like cuts and other injuries sustained from using heavy machinery. Other things are minor, like tetanus shots, or colds and flu.” He shrugged. “The usual stuff.”

“You do good work, here, Duncan.” Indeed. He was not just some pretty face playing around at being a doctor. He had a heart dedicated to service to others that was very appealing to her.

“I’d like to do more of it, but at the moment there’s just not enough of me to go around.” That brought some pain to him. This was a group of people who could use his skills, not the people who held fund-raisers and had never set foot in a barrio.

They stepped around the large machine shed to a line of people that looked a mile long and her eyes widened. “Wow. That’s a lot of people.”

“I know.” He grinned. “Not doing anything else the rest of the day, are you?” He patted her shoulder, then let his hand linger there for a second. She was so different from women he’d known. That little alarm inside him started to go off, reminding him again that she could leave him at any moment and he’d best not set himself up for getting hurt again. Then he shook it off, reminding himself there was work to do now.

“Uh, no. No, I’m not.” She straightened her shoulders, ready for whatever would come up. She was an experienced ER nurse. She could handle whatever they had. Except…“I don’t speak Spanish. What do you want me to do?”

“The boys will help with translation for you. You can start with vital signs and triage, get a little info, then send them over to me. You’re over there.” He pointed to a long table where hand sanitizer, index cards for writing down information, and a blood-pressure cuff lay.

Duncan’s area even had a screen so people would have some semblance of privacy.

Jake and Judd stood by, ready to help with translation. With a last look at Duncan as he walked away, she put on her best nurse smile and accepted the first patient into her triage station.

They spent about four hours on mundane issues before a patient of concern surfaced. As Duncan had foretold, the majority of the issues were farm related or other minor complaints. Then a boy with a serious face was plunked down into the chair by his father.

“Hi, there.” Her welcoming smile faded. Usually she liked working with pediatric patients because they always had some interesting take on their situation or made up a grand and glorious tale about their injuries.

But not this.

Something was seriously wrong about his situation. She didn’t know what, but, watching the boy interact with his father, she knew something was off.

This little boy of about six years old was too thin for his age and bone structure. His hair had been cropped very short, as was the custom, but she could see scratch marks on his scalp, and a little bald spot where the hair was worn away. The child didn’t look at her but kept his eyes downcast, a sure sign of insecurity. He was not as frisky as the other children. Then the boy looked up at her and his eyes widened, fixating on her red hair that the wind had begun to tease from its clip.

“What’s the problem?” she asked his father, who had distant black eyes. He made eye contact but dropped his gaze quickly.

“He…no…” Frustrated with his attempt at English, he launched into a monologue in Spanish about the boy’s problems, pointed to the bald spot on his head and then at the boy’s back.

“His father says that he’s always hurting himself, falling down or tripping, and then the spot on his head, he keeps rubbing it, and if he doesn’t stop is going to be bald before he’s seven years old.”

A smile curved up her lips at that last statement. “It’s okay. He won’t be bald, but we do have to figure out the reason he’s rubbing the spot.” She held out a piece of candy to him. First his gaze flashed to his father, then he accepted it and focused on unwrapping the little sweet. “Kids his age, especially boys, are accident prone. They run full blast and don’t see the hazards, so he’ll stop falling if he stops running so fast.” She waited while Judd interpreted that part.

“What’s your name?”

“Alejandro.” He bobbed his head politely.

“Is his mother here? I could talk to her about some things she can do to help keep him calm, from a woman’s perspective.” She’d had lots of training in pediatrics, and now seemed a good time to share some of it.

Judd hunkered over and whispered to her. “Mother’s not in the picture. Died last year. He’s raising the boy alone.”

A sick feeling turned in Rebel’s gut. No child should have to suffer the loss of a parent at that age. She knew exactly what it was like. An ache formed inside her, and she just wanted to reach out, gather the little boy against her and never let go of him. He was an innocent victim and his injuries may have been an attempt to gain his father’s attention.

“Let me check him and listen to his lungs, look at his injuries and then we’ll have the doctor look at him, too.” She set about her tasks, but when she placed the stethoscope on his back he winced and cried out.

Rebel pulled up his shirt to look at his back. “Oh!” She nearly cried out in pain for the boy. “What happened?” She shot a questioning look at the father. “This time.”

“He fell from the high loft in the hay barn,” Judd translated. “He and the other kids were playing a game, and he lost his grip on the rope and fell.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She reached for the boy’s hands. Healing rope burns gave evidence to Pedro’s explanation. With a shake of her head, she took Alejandro’s chin in her hand and gently tilted his face up until he looked at her. He blinked, as if coming back to himself, and rolled the candy around in his mouth until he’d tucked it into one cheek. “You have to be more careful, little man. You hurt yourself too much.”

After Judd had interpreted for the boy, he shrugged. “I…okay,” he said, demonstrating some understanding of English.

“You can hurt yourself doing things like that.”

He only grinned and resumed playing with the candy in his mouth.

“If his mother is…gone, then what does he do during the day? Who takes care of him?”

The father offered an explanation, which was then translated. “He goes to school during the day, then comes home and one of the neighbor kids looks out for him while Pedro is still working. He won’t stay in the daycare.”

Rebel couldn’t help but imagine what she would do if she were closer at hand. Children were at risk for injuries and death if left unsupervised as they didn’t have the capacity to determine risk compared to what the perceived fun would be. She pressed her lips together and tried to resist the primal mothering urge that had begun to surface. If only…

“Pedro says he doesn’t know what to do with him. The boy won’t stay in the house after school, just runs and runs and runs as soon as he’s off the bus. That’s why he’s so skinny.” Judd listened again to Pedro. “He wants to know if there is a medicine or something Duncan can give him to make him behave better.”

“I’m sorry, Pedro. This isn’t a matter of medication, but may be the only way for him to express his grief at the loss of his mother.” Pedro nodded, opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then pressed his lips firmly together and turned away. Rebel could see the frustration and anger in him. “Children often need to cry in order to get those feelings they don’t understand out of them.”

Pedro pointed at his son, anger blazing in his eyes. “No cry. He no cry.” He launched into another explanation to Judd.

“When Pedro’s wife died, it was because she was an alcoholic. He doesn’t want Alejandro to cry for a woman who chose the bottle over them.”

So misunderstood. Grief had grabbed this family by the throat and hadn’t let go. They needed to be in counseling, but how to suggest it to a man still entrenched in the angry phase of grief was beyond her comprehension.

“Duncan, I need your help.” Though she spoke to him, she busied herself with taking Alejandro’s blood pressure.

“What’s up?” Duncan stepped closer and nodded to Pedro, spoke a few words of greeting.

“Kid’s got a case of Superman syndrome.”

“A what?”

“Superman. Thinks he’s invincible, and is into serious risk taking.”

“What is he, six?” Duncan glanced at the kid and frowned.

“Still thinks he’s Superman. Just needs a cape.” After relaying the list of injuries his father had reported and the escalation of them, she turned his hands over to show the rope burns to Duncan.

“So what’s really going on?” That was the question. There was always something behind a person’s behavior, a motivation, even if they were six years old and didn’t know it. She explained the loss of his mother and the emotionally distant father to Duncan as quickly as possible.

He sat with a sigh and examined Alejandro, speaking in Spanish. Pedro seemed to relax a little as he listened to Duncan. Then Pedro stiffened. “No.” He grabbed Alejandro by the hand and began to walk away. Rebel let out a gasp of distress and looked at Duncan.

“You can’t let him just walk away like that. We have to do something more.” There was always something to be done. Alejandro turned to look over his shoulder at her and her heart nearly broke at his big brown eyes beseeching her to do something.

“Uno momento, Pedro,” Duncan said, and the man stopped, but his leg twitched in his eagerness to get away from the situation. Some men couldn’t handle emotion and either ran from it or covered it with anger. Pedro was obviously a runner, so his son came by it naturally. Duncan motioned for the man to return the boy to the chair and spoke to him in Spanish.

Fortunately, the man responded, nodding now and then. Rebel gingerly lifted the boy’s shirt to have a better look at the wounds he’d sustained in the fall while Judd translated. “It’s okay, little man. I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry about anything.” She applied a non-sting wound spray to cleanse the open areas on his back and then a soothing ointment to prevent infection. The wounds on his hands were nearly healed, but she was sure they had hurt like crazy.

Responding to her gentle touch, the boy looked at her, hesitation in his eyes, as if he’d not known much mothering in his short life. He reached out to touch a stray lock of her hair. With careful focus, he took the strand and wrapped it around his finger. A curious expression covered his face, as if he hadn’t ever seen such a thing, and he probably hadn’t. Then he released it and it sprang back against her shoulder, and he grinned.

“Nice to meet you, Alejandro. I’m Rebel.” She shook his hand and noted he had a pretty strong grip. But she could tell he was definitely underweight.

He bobbed his head, but didn’t take his eyes off of her hair. “Buenas dias, señorita.”

Duncan patted Pedro on his shoulder. The man still stood stiffly with his arms crossed, his back to the child, but at least he hadn’t left.

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him he and the boy both needed some support. We’ll pay for it, but we’d really like him to go.” Duncan cast a glance at Pedro. “He’s not happy about it, but says he will try. At least it’s a start.”

He took a breath and let it out in a huff. He squatted by Alejandro and spoke to him, getting more information than Rebel could. She didn’t know what he was saying, but in a few seconds Alejandro gave a grin and then looked up at Rebel, his eyes sparkling for the first time since he’d arrived.

“What did you say to him?” She played along, pleased to see a light of humor in those defeated eyes.

“I told him you were an Irish fairy come here just to help him.” Though his face was stoic, there was a playful light in his eyes she responded to.

“Me? A fairy?” Seriously? At her height? “Aren’t they tiny little creatures and have tiny little wings?”

“I told him the only way you could tell a real Irish fairy was that they had beautiful, curly red hair and an impish gleam in their remarkable green eyes, but you had to look closely to find it.”

“Duncan,” she said. Her heart fluttering wildly at his words. The only glint in her eyes had recently been put there by him. And a fresh beating of her heart.

“Hey, you made him smile again, and that’s a beautiful thing.” He held her gaze for a second longer then broke away to answer Alejandro’s next question. “The other ladies around have tried to offer some mothering, but he hasn’t bonded with any of them. Until you.”

Alejandro distracted Duncan with another question, and he turned to answer the boy.

“He really likes you, you know?” Judd said, and gave her a playful poke in the arm.

“Well, he’s a sweet kid.”

“I mean Duncan. He really likes you.”

Rebel gave an assessing look at Judd. Was it true? Did Duncan really like her in the way Judd meant or was Duncan just having a good time while she was present and would move on to the next woman when he realized she could never give him what he needed? Was that reality or just her own fears surfacing?

“Oh. Yes. Well.” Flustered, she didn’t know what to say.

Duncan stood and the moment was over.

The tension that had eased resurfaced again when Pedro collected Alejandro. There was nothing to be done at the moment. Time would heal, eventually, but Rebel wanted to do something else to help him. To take him in her arms and rock him to sleep, the way he should have been all of his life. The boy went reluctantly with his father, casting longing glances at Rebel. As if the Irish fairy could help him.

A pain filled her heart as she watched him walk away.

What had started out as a lovely day had faded into a low hum of concern for Alejandro. Somehow she needed to figure out a way to get back here and help. Something in her called to this little boy, and she wanted to be around for him. Farming accidents were fairly common and if something happened to Pedro, what would happen to Alejandro?

She imagined she and Duncan would be heading back to Albuquerque soon and this lovely weekend would be committed to the memory books of her mind. She couldn’t imagine another weekend being more wonderful. Or more impossible to hang on to. There was just no way she could be what Duncan wanted or needed. After seeing him, his family, the way they were, this had to be just a one-time event. She just didn’t have it in her to be what he needed, and there was no way she would taint this family with her genes.

“Come here, children,” Lupe instructed, and ushered them from the heat of the outdoors to the cool interior of the home. Ceiling fans ran in every room and the windows were left open a few inches in order to facilitate circulation. The adobe structure needed no artificial cooling.

Rebel and Duncan settled at a large wooden table where several of Duncan’s older female relatives sat. Duncan introduced her to the matriarchs of the family, who all seemed to study her.

“They mean no harm, they’re just curious about you.” He took her hand. “As I’ve not brought many lady friends here, they are taking the opportunity to determine whether I’m worthy of you.” These ladies who had helped to raise him loved him, but didn’t always trust his judgment in women. That made him laugh. They were so right. At least up until now.

“Don’t you mean that the other way around?”

“No. Once you helped out with Rafael, they decided you were made of gold and can do no wrong.” He grinned. “I’m the one in the hot seat.”

“I see. I like them already.” Was she really seeing this? Was his family already taking her under their wings as one of their own? He looked at her as if he saw her, saw who she really was. That frightened her. She sipped her coffee and realized Lupe must have put a dash of red chili in the coffee as well. It had a nip to it. Or maybe it was the close proximity to Duncan and all he represented that made her sweat. The temperature was definitely going up.

“Tell me, dear, where are you from?” one of the aunties asked her. Before she could respond, Duncan’s phone rang, and he got up to answer it then glanced at Rebel and moved farther away. That was curious. Made her wonder if it was work.

Lupe made the introductions as to who was the oldest and the youngest and the ladies began to argue about who looked the best and who had the best hair and the fewest wrinkles among them. Rebel couldn’t help but be engaged and put at ease by these women.

The laugh in Rebel’s throat caught when Duncan reentered the room. Something was wrong. It was in his eyes, in his walk, in the energy around him. He looked only at her, and her heart sank. Somehow she knew this news was only for her.

And it was bad.

She stood, nearly knocking over her chair. “What is it? I know it’s bad, just tell me.”