Читать книгу New York Doc, Thailand Proposal / The Surgeon's Baby Bombshell - Dianne Drake, Deanne Anders - Страница 13

“SERIOUSLY? YOU CAN’T get antibiotics?”

Layla was reacting to a definite lack of supplies in Arlo’s medicine lock-up. She’d taken a peek while she was over there and had been totally shocked. In comparison to what she’d had available to her all the time this was crazy. Yet it was Arlo’s crazy, and he seemed good with it.

“I can, but it’s not as easy as you’d think. Medical care is free, but I have to wait for my allotment, then it’s sent to the regional hospital for me to pick up. Getting there isn’t always easy. I don’t always have time. And I can’t have someone do it who isn’t medically qualified.”

“But don’t you have an assistant?”

“He’s a student, Layla. A college graduate who’s getting ready to go to med school. And he’s a good medic in the field. Trained by me, though. So he’s not licensed or certified in any medical capacity yet, which means he can’t make that trip. I have a nurse who’ll bring my supplies out when he can, but doctors and nurses are in critically short supply outside the big cities, so he’s not always free to help me either. Meaning if I need something immediately, sometimes I can go get it, sometimes I must wait, depending on what else is going on.

“Bottom line—what I need is available, but the ability to go after it is often lacking. So we wait, and make do until we can rectify the situation.”

“I guess I never realized how difficult some medical situations can get, even when supplies are available.”

“Most people don’t. It’s not their fault, but who wants to hear about what I do here when what’s happening with medicine in Bangkok’s hospitals is a huge contributor to the medical world in general. That’s just the way it is.”

In her medical world, a quick call to the pharmacy or central supply got her what she needed within minutes. Layla couldn’t even begin to imagine the frustration of knowing you had what you needed available, yet you couldn’t get to it. Maybe that was something she could fix. Something where her admin skills would prove to him she was good at what she did. Certainly it was worth looking into.

“So, can you stock ahead? Keep a few things back in case of emergency?”

“I do, but I don’t have a lot of storage capacity here. And sometimes no electricity for days, which means the drugs that require refrigeration go bad.”

It kept getting worse. No easy access to drugs that were his. Sometimes no ability to store them properly. And Arlo had chosen this over his grandfather’s surgery? “Can’t say that I understand any of this, Arlo. When you used to talk about coming back here, what you have isn’t what you described. I pictured a modern facility tucked away in the jungle. Not a rundown structure that lacked supplies, personnel and anything that could be construed as convenient or up to date.”

“But that’s who we are. And this is what I knew I’d be getting when I came back.”

“Do you have a bed?”

“Sure do. And it will be yours if you want it. Also, it’s not a bed so much as a cot.”

“And with the facilities across the street”

“Consider it a little bit of rustic camping.”

“For two months, Arlo. I can do that. But this is the rest of your life and even though I can see it, and I do have a better understanding of the need here”

“Let me guess. You still don’t get it?”

“Oh, I get it. But this isn’t who you were when we were together. You talked about this life, but you didn’t live anything close to it.”

“Consider that as me being on holiday.”

“And I was part of that holiday?”

Arlo didn’t answer the question. Instead, he pulled back a thin sheet separating the main part of the room from what looked to be a tiny space for a bedroom. “And you’re in luck. Chauncy isn’t here right now. So the cot is all yours if you want to rest until I can find someone to get your car.”

Layla looked out the window above her cot and sighed. It was beginning to rain. Big fat drops. Hitting the dirt road and turning it into instant mud. And here she was, in a hut without a door, assigned to sleep with something or someone called Chauncy, and just now learning that what she’d thought might have been love in some form had been merely a holiday for Arlo. She’d been merely a holiday. Well, she was here. And she had to make the best of it while she was. But her spirits were as dreary as the gray sky outside. She’d hoped for something different, something more. And the truth hurt.

“I don’t suppose this Chauncy happens to have an umbrella, does he? I’d like to go back across the road and get myself acquainted with the hospital.”

“Actually, I have an umbrella. But you should be careful because some snakes love the rain and come out to play, while others are making a mad dash to get out of it.”

Yep, that’s all she needed to add to her mood. Snakes in the puddles. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, but the good news is we have a nice supply of antivenin always handy. That’s the one thing that’s delivered to my door because the pharmaceutical reps deem my snakebite findings useful to them. So, use the antivenin, fill out some paperwork, answer some questions and they keep the supply coming.”

Snakes and snakebites. Somehow none of this was brightening her day. Not this holiday girl.

“You trying to get rid of me already, Arlo?” Layla asked, walking into a small room, one of only three with real doors in the hospital, then stopping halfway inside to look around. It was a basic exam room. One hard, flat, old-fashioned exam table, an open cabinet with supplies like gloves, bandages and tongue depressors. The medicine cabinet she’d already seen. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t hopeless either. More like something new in her collection of medical experiences.

“So, do you have a usual time to order supplies?”

“On a PRN basis.” As needed.

“And you get that order sent by?”

“Going to an elephant rescue near here and getting on their internet.” Arlo smiled. “It may seem difficult, but it works out.”

But would she work out inside Arlo’s system? That was the question that kept coming to mind. She wanted to help him, to do a good job, but practically speaking, could she? “And I’ll fit into this how?”

“Any way you want to. I operate on the same system as my orders are submitted. PRN. It works, as long as I don’t get distracted. And that’s when everything falls apart.”

“What distracts you?” Layla was curious, as Arlo had never seemed the type to get distracted when they’d been together.

“A lot of things. Too much need, too little of me to go around. Medicines I can’t get when I need them. The hole in the roof over my cot. Actually, now that you’ve displaced me that’s one less distraction I’ll have to deal with.”

“Did you always feel that way about me, Arlo? That I distracted you?”

He gave her a questioning look. “How do you mean?”

“That I was a distraction you didn’t want to have?”

“You were always a distraction, Layla. But I wanted that distraction. Wanted that time we had together. It meant—everything.”

To her, it had. But she wasn’t sure about Arlo. One thing was certain, though. He’d been her distraction. And he’d displaced her feelings in a way no one would ever do again. Before him, she’d been sure what she wanted. But after him there had been times when she hadn’t been so sure.

“Well, however it worked out, I’m glad you have everything you wanted,” she said, walking out into the short corridor leading to the single room holding ten beds. All empty now. And everything bare bones. Meager. Medicine on a level she’d never seen. “Do you think Ollie might have provided you with more, had he known how bare your hospital is?”

“He knows, Layla. He’s been here. But he’s so heavily invested in his surgical practice—putting me through med school was enough. It was a very generous thing to do, especially considering that if he hadn’t done it, I might still be struggling to earn enough money to get through. Besides, my parents were able to manage under difficult circumstances and so am I.”

“I hope so. For your sake, as well as your patients’.”

“You think I don’t do what’s best for my patients? You’re here all of an hour and you’re already making judgments?”

“Not at all. I’m beginning to realize how difficult it must be to exist here.” She was almost gaining a deeper insight into him now, seeing him differently than she had in those years they had been together. And this side of Arlo wasadmirable. He was someone to be respected. And it was so frightening, knowing he was out here, practically on his own, trying to make a difference she still didn’t understand. “Since I’ve come a long way to work with you, I have the right to wonder. And worry, if that’s the way it turns out. If that bothers you, sorry. But there’s nothing I can do about it. At least, not until I understand more.”

As Layla passed by Arlo on her way to the tiny kitchen at the rear of the ward, she paused when they were almost chest to chest and looked up at him. “I never worked directly with you when we were residents because of our personal situation. Fraternization wasn’t allowed. But now it’s different. And what we had, or what we meant to each other, can’t get in the way. OK? The past is the past. So, keep in mind, Arlo, that this can’t turn into something that’s only about us. Taking offense too quickly at things not intended to be offensive, overreacting—we can’t do that. We can’t wipe the slate clean either. But we’ve got to find a way to make this work for a while. If that’s what you want for your hospital. If it’s not”

She shrugged, then ducked into the tiny kitchen to assess the two-burner stove, the small utility table, and the knee-high refrigerator that looked to be a decade past its prime. It was working off a small generator that ran only the kitchen. Well, for now she’d have to get used to it. For better or worse, she had to make a go of this. And of Arlo.

For the first time, Layla really wondered why she had raised her hand so quickly. But it was too late to worry over that, especially when she had so many other things to fret about now. Snakes, something called Chauncy, rain, difficult conditions, Arlo It was almost too much. Still, she was here, trying to convince herself she could do this. She had to. Arlo might suffer a little if she backed out, but his patients were the ones who really counted. Because of them, Layla would fight her way through and hope she was good enough. No matter what Arlo or anybody else thought, she was about being a doctor. A good doctor. As good a doctor as Arlo.

“What happened to your back?” Layla asked, as they both went to greet a patient who’d wandered in the door. A little boy with a scratch on his arm. He couldn’t have been more than five or six, and Layla escorted the child to the exam room and pointed to the table, indicating for the child to hop up.

“I strained it a little,” Arlo said, surprised and even flattered that she was paying that much attention. But Layla had always been observant. Sometimes too observant, especially when she’d picked up on one of his moods—moods he’d tried hard never to show. Yet she’d always known, just like now. “I fell off a roof. Actually, the roof caved in a little under my weight. That accounts for the hole over your cot.” He said something to the child, who giggled with delight then made hand gestures to indicate someone falling. “Which is tarped, by the way. So the leak is only a drip.”

“Should I ask what you were doing on a roof?” Layla found the antiseptic and scrubbed the child’s wound, then dressed it with a bandage.

“Not unless you want to hear all about Chauncy.”

“Ah, yes, my mysterious bed partner. So, why were you up on the roof with this Chauncy?”

“He got stuck. I had to help him down.” Arlo dug into his cargo pockets and pulled out a sweet for the child, said something to him again, then sent the boy on his way, holding onto his sweet like it was the best prize in the world.

“Do children often come here alone?” Layla asked.

“The children here mature at an early age. Chanchai, the little boy who was just here, scratched his arm bringing in fishing nets.”

“But he’s only—”

“I know. By your standards you see a very young child. But by the standards here, he’s a contributing member of the village and he has an important job. The twenty or thirty bahts here might only be a dollar or less in your currency, but that money goes to help support his family, making Chanchai’s contribution very important.”

“He’s veryresilient.”

“All the people here are. They work hard for their families, and even the young ones know to come to me if they’re hurt, or not feeling well. Of course, it’s easy to persuade them when they know you carry sweets in your pockets.” He smiled. “Which isn’t so different from anywhere, is it? I remember you during your pediatric rotation always stocking up candy for the children, even though your attending physician frowned on it.”

“Because my doctor did that when I was a child. It made the whole medical experience less frightening.”

Arlo chuckled. “Remember that one little boy who’d follow you up and down the hall in his wheelchair, never saying a word but always giving you that sad look when you gave a sweet to another child?”

“Geordie. I haven’t thought of him in years. He did manage to finagle his fair share, didn’t he?”

“Because you were a pushover when it came to children. It surprised me that you went into general surgery and not pediatrics. You were so good with the kids.”

“Pediatrics broke my heart too often. I—um—To be an effective doctor I needed to be more detached.”

For someone who tried so hard to be stone-hearted, he’d seen through the façade to a very soft, caring woman. It had shone in Layla’s face every time she’d looked at one of her pediatric patients. She couldn’t hide it—at least, not from him. “Well, you would have been good at it, and you will get your fair share of children to treat here.”

“Hope I’m up to it better than you were up to your climb on the roof with Chauncy. Who is?”

Arlo put the antiseptic and bandages back in the cabinet, looked out the window and spun around to face her.

“He’s actually just come home. Want to come meet him?”

He waved at Samron, an aged widow who spent several hours each day in Happy Hospital, cleaning, doing laundry, serving meals and other jobs that gave her something to keep her busy. She was also the self-appointed receptionist who greeted patients when they came in.

“I’ll be across the street if you need me,” he said to her.

Yes,” she answered, smiling. “With pretty lady doc. Your wife?”

Arlo chuckled, then explained to Layla. “They all want me to settle down, get married, start a family. I’m usually on the receiving end of a fix-up at least twice a month. Somebody’s sister, or cousin, or daughter.”

“Sounds like they care about you.”

“Maybe a little too much.” He smiled at Samron and shook his head. “Not wife. New lady doc. Doc Layla.”

Samron nodded, but her smile told the story, and it was all about Arlo and Layla, together. “Doc Layla,” she repeated, then pressed the palms of her hands together in a prayer-like fashion, bent her head ever so slightly and said, “Wai,” a customary Thai greeting.

Layla did the same, then followed Arlo into the road. “She seems very nice,” she said.

“And very helpful. She also volunteers at the school. And on the weekends she spends time with new mothers in the village, helping them with their babies. She’s a very respected person here.”

“Respect is important,” Layla said. “Too many people have forgotten what it is.”

“Well, it’s not like that here. If you earn respect, you’re given respect.” Arlo entered his hut and went straight to the curtain separating the room into two. Then pulled it back to reveal

“What is that?” Layla asked, her eyes wide open.

“This is Chauncy, my civet cat. We co-habit.”

“A civet cat is?”

“Something like a cat, only a little larger with a face kind of like a big rat. They’re nocturnal so they have really glowy eyes.”

“And your civet cat got stuck up on the roof and when you went to get him you fell through? Couldn’t he have come down himself? I’m assuming civet cats can climb. You know, the law of jungle survival and all that.”

“They can, but Chauncy’s not good at it. He had a broken leg when I found him, and it healed leaving him lame. So he can climb up pretty well, but getting down is the problem.”

“And now he’s your house cat?”

“Pretty much.” Arlo smiled. “You’ll get used to him.”

Layla took a couple steps closer, then stared down at the creature who didn’t resemble a cat, curled up on the cot she would use. “He’s clean, I suppose,” she said, bending down to pet him. “And he doesn’t bite?”

“Very clean. He doesn’t really wander out in the jungle anymore. He’s pretty domesticated, and since the people here all know him, they feed him, which makes him too fat, which also makes him lazy. And, no, he doesn’t bite. Also, his scent gland was removed since he had to be domesticated for his survival, so you’re safe there as well.”

She bent to pet Chauncy, who raised his head long enough to decide she was no threat, then immediately went back to sleep. “He’sbeautiful,” she said, speaking in a whisper so she didn’t disturb him.

“I recall you liked cats.” Arlo had been concerned that living with a wild animal might cause Layla problems since she was strictly big city but watching her relate to Chauncy gave him a whole new appreciation for her. In fact, he admired the way she simply accepted the fact that she’d be curling up with a jungle creature. That wasn’t the Layla he remembered. She’d beenhighly strung.

“Cats, dogs, civet cats. All God’s creatures, Arlo. Just didn’t expect to be sleeping with one. But when you’re in the jungle I suppose you sleep with the civet cats when you must.” She tiptoed away from Chauncy then moved to the opposite side of the cottage. “Just no snakes,” she said. “They’re free to roam around all they want outside the hut, but not inside, please.”

Arlo laughed. He’d always liked her practicality. When other female med students had been trying to attract him by flirting or making offers that hadn’t interested him, Layla had been the one who hadn’t noticed him. Which had made him want her to.

And he’d worked hard to get her attention, finding out afterward, when they were together, that’s what she’d wanted all along. But she’d been so inexperienced—not shy, though—as much as reserved. Like she had been testing the water and he had been the water. But it had been cute watching her find her way in their relationship. Even after that night with the popcorn, there had been so many things she hadn’t known. Things he’d delighted in showing her. Simple things like hiking in the woods. Complicated things such as the profound pleasure an uncomplicated massage could offer.

She’d led a sheltered life, though. Hadn’t ever really had anyone there to guide her. She also hadn’t had to contend with civet cats, snakes and elephants daily, the way he’d done, growing up. Talk about opposites Honestly, he’d always been a little protective of that side of her. Now he wondered if it still existed, and if it did, would it bring that out in him again? “Snakes have their place. If you know which ones won’t kill you.”

“Good information to have handy,” Layla said in the matter-of-fact tone Arlo remembered, oh, so well, as she sat cross-legged on the floor near the door and patted the floor next to her. It was a tone that meant she was trying to stay aloof, trying to avoid contact, commitment or whatever else frightened her. Understandably, she was probably more frightened of him right now than snakes. Yet here she was, trying to face it. That was a new side of her, one he liked a lot.

“So, since we don’t have proper facilities in here, I suppose buying a luxurious spa tub with soothing jets and all kinds of bubble bath is out of the question? As well as a heated towel rack?”

Arlo laughed as he sat down “Afraid so, but we’ve got a stream about half a mile from here where the water’s pretty warm this time of year. And if the temperature’s hot enough, the rocks heat up so you can consider that your heated towel rack.”

“You always kept me amused, Arlo. I remember some of those long nights of studying after a long day of working in the hospital, when I thought I wasn’t cut out to be a doctor. Then there you’d be, cooking me some of the worst food I’d ever eaten, or strumming your guitar and making up songs that didn’t make sense.”

“They were in Thai,” he defended.

“No, they were in gibberish. Even I recognized that. And if I hadn’t, the look on your face would have given you away.”

“There were good times, weren’t there?” Arlo asked, twisting his back to find a comfortable position.

“And bad ones. I just wish we’d had the bad ones at the beginning so when we finally decided to call it quits we’d have had the good ones closest to us. It would have made the memories better, I think.”

He had good memories of her and that was the problem. The memories were too good for a couple that was destined to break up. “And here we are, together again.”

“But not for that reason,” Layla warned. “I really do want to prove myself and working here should earn me some”

“Some what?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Has your cooking gotten any better?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Actually, my brother Eric—you remember me talking about him, don’t you?”

“The rich one.”

“One and the same. Anyway, he sent me a yakitori grill. And while I’m not good at preparing a meal on it, I do make a mean cup of tea.”

“A yakitori grill? Does that mean you’ve been to Japan?”

“No, my brother lives there. He sent it to me. But I haven’t had time to visit him yet.”

“So, you’ve got a civet cat and a yakitori.” She reached out and squeezed Arlo’s arm—an affectionate gesture from the past that came so naturally.

“That about sums it up.”

“And that makes you a happy man?”

“Along with my practice. You know me. Simple needs.”

“And mine weren’t, were they?”

“Let’s just say that you gravitated more toward the finer things in life. Probably still do, for all I know.”

Layla sighed. “To be honest, I don’t have time for all the finer things in life. Most of my time is spent working.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Probably because you always knew I was ambitious. I think I probably slammed that in your face a thousand times in those two years, didn’t I?”

He chuckled. “Let’s just say that I was well aware of your preferences and leave it at that.”

“Was I that bad, Arlo?”

“You were never bad, Layla. Neither was I. But as a couplewell, our destinies precluded everything else. Maybe that’s what was bad. That, and those fifty pairs of shoes on the closet floor that left me no room for my two pairs.”

He smiled, thinking about how he’d practically lived out of a suitcase during those two years because her clothes had taken up every inch of hanging space in both bedrooms. But that had been part of her charm. At least, to him it had been, because he’d loved watching her make the decision of what to wear.

It would take hours sometimes, and she’d always asked his opinion. Do you like me in this? Is this one better than the other one? It always made him feel a part of something other than the jungle or his parents’ life. Something he liked, even though it was temporary.

“Never more than forty, Arlo. Unless you count boots.”

He laughed out loud. Couldn’t help himself. Even though they weren’t a couple, something about the old familiarity was sinking back in, making him feel like, well—what he hadn’t felt like since they had been a couple. “Well, no worries about that here, since this hut doesn’t have a closet.”

“To think this is where you expected me to live. And that was back when I only had thirty pairs of shoes.”

“Sixty,” he teased.

“We’ll compromise at twenty,” she said, smiling.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I never expected you to take me up on my offer. But in a few of my more stupid moments, I did hope.”

“Not stupid, Arlo. Hope is never stupid.”

“Except when it came to us.”

Layla smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “So, is a hose for a shower and no closets what you still want? I know you feel an obligation to stay here, but has anything changed?”

“No, not really. Because this is where I’ve always worked from the time I was five or six, just like little Chanchai. It’s everything I knew I wanted, probably because this is the kind of medicine my parents practiced, and I respected what they did. I mean, I was raised in the jungle, Layla. Conceived here, born here. It’s what I know. What I want. Taking care of people who wouldn’t otherwise get medical help—I could have gone in with Ollie after I graduated, but it wouldn’t have made me happy, not the way my practice here does.”

“Then you’re where you belong. Following your heart is always the best way.”

“Have you ever done that, Layla? Followed your heart?”

She shook her head. “That’s not who I am. I follow my choices, but you already knew that.”

“I hope your choices have made you happy so far.”

“They’ve made me what I want to be—successful.”

And somehow Layla seemed almost as vulnerable as she had when they’d first been together. The girl who’d been afraid to approach him. The girl who’d never fully invested herself in life. Was it because of her money? Did she still rely on that the way she had when they’d been together? Trusting that rather than trusting people?

There’d been so many times when she’d found it easier to buy her way into a situation rather than rely on her intellect and amazing abilities to come up with a better way. Was that who she still was? Because that was a part of Layla he’d never understood. So independent, yet so willing to fall back into habits she’d said she wanted to be rid of. Even if they hadn’t been going in separate directions, that’s the thing that would have killed them.

“I suppose I thought that after you’d spent so much time back in the States during medical school, then residency, maybe this wouldn’t have the same appeal you remembered.”

“It has more, now that I’m an adult and can fully appreciate what I have here—like the freedom of doing what I want to do without a lot of interference from anyone. My patients are the best, which makes up for my less than spectacular accommodation. And it’s nice caring for people who are grateful for my services and not ones who make unreasonable demands.”

He laughed. “Remember the surgical patient who wanted me to do both a hernia repair and a nose reduction in the same surgery? The guy actually reported me to Administration because I refused, not that my attending would have allowed such a thing even if I’d wanted to. Which I didn’t. But he made my life miserable for a couple of weeks, calling and complaining over and over.”

“If I recall, he thought he’d get a discount that way. Two surgeries for the price of one anesthesia. Guess he didn’t consider that general surgeons aren’t plastic surgeons. Or maybe that didn’t matter to him. You were pretty agitated at the time.”

“And you made me chicken noodle soup—from a can.”

“Because it was supposed to make you feel better.”

“When you were ailing, Layla. I wasn’t ailing. I was angry.” He smiled. “But it was a nice gesture, having someone take care of me like that. Did I ever tell you how much I appreciated that?”

“No. You told me it wasn’t hot enough, then told me to reheat it in the microwave. But you did leave me that flower the next day—the one you picked from the garden at our apartment building. I pressed it and kept it until, well—I probably still have it tucked in a book somewhere. It was the first gift you ever gave me.” Layla smiled, and leaned her head over on his shoulder, a natural thing she’d always done once upon a time. “I’m glad it’s working for you, Arlo.”

“Ium” Arlo pulled away from her so quickly she almost fell sideways to the ground. “We’ve got work to do,” he said, his voice suddenly stiff.

“Did I do something?” she asked, trying to recover from his abruptness.

Arlo shook his head as he stood. “We did something a long time ago and I don’t want to repeat it. You’re not easy to resist, Layla. God knows, I was never able to. But not anymore. My work—my practice here won’t allow me that kind of distraction.”

“That’s right. I was just your holiday girl, wasn’t I? Well, don’t worry. I’m nobody’s holiday now, and I never will be again.” Without another word, Layla marched out of the hut and across the road to the hospital, grabbed the schedule off the desk at the front and saw that the next three patients due in needed general care—a wound check, an antibiotic shot and a maternity appointment. They weren’t there yet, but when they arrived they would find Dr. Layla Morrison waiting for them in the exam.

And Dr. Arlo Benedict standing outside in the road, in the rain, wondering how two people who’d gotten it so right could have also gotten it so wrong.