Читать книгу New York Doc, Thailand Proposal / The Surgeon's Baby Bombshell - Dianne Drake, Deanne Anders - Страница 14

IT WAS GETTING ON in the day when Layla finally gathered up the courage to go back to the hut to face him. Overall, seven patients had come to the hospital and she’d managed to figure out what each one wanted. Luck had been with her on that one. That, plus some translation help from Samron, who seemed genuinely pleased to be useful.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asked Arlo, who was heading back to the hut at the same time she was.

“A couple of times. My house call patients always like to offer food.” He handed her a wooden plate covered with a cloth napkin. “Khao pad. It’s a fried rice with several different vegetables and pork in it. There’s also some mixed fruit.”

“I, um—I don’t know what to say except thank you and I’m sorry. This is awkward and I know it, and I shouldn’t have gotten so familiar. Leaning against you that way was inappropriate, but just for a few minutes we were almost—us. The way we started anyway. From now on I’ll keep my distance.”

“And I never meant to imply you were a holiday girl. You were my break from reality, and you knew that. But I never thought of you as someone who was there only for a good time, someone to use at my convenience, and I’m sorry that’s how it sounded.”

“I know who we were, Arlo. From the very first day until the last one, I always knew. I also know that’s not what you thought of me but, like I said, it’s awkward now.” She peeked at the food under the cloth, and her mouth practically watered. “Mind if I heat this up on your yakitori?”

“Communal property while you’re here, Layla. What’s mine is yours.”

“So, where do I put my fifty pairs of shoes?”

He laughed as they went inside together, she straight to the yakitori, to lay the fire beneath it, and he to his mat on the floor. But when he lowered himself to it, he winced.

“I really do need to have a look at that,” she said, pulling a matchbox from a shelf and lighting the fire. “Even if I can’t see anything, maybe I can feel which muscle is giving you problems and manipulate some of that soreness out of it. Strictly medical, of course.” She turned around and studied him for a moment. It wasn’t quite dark in the hut yet, but it wasn’t quite light either. Yet somewhere in the ebbing of the day she saw traces of the man who’d shared her bed for nearly two years mingling with traces of a man she didn’t know.

“You’ve changed,” Layla said, not caring that he could see her assess him. His hands—yes, she was a handsy type. Always looked at the hands second. Neck first. Eyes. Mouth. But right now she was wondering if his hands would still be soft. They looked soft, and she wondered what they would feel like on her skin again. Caressing her. Causing her to tingle

No, this wasn’t allowed. No memories. No fond thoughts of what they’d had. Still, Arlo Benedict, for his un-trendy ways, was a rugged and well-proportioned man. A head-turner. Always had been, and she was pretty sure he’d never even been aware of it.

“How?” he asked. “And if it’s in a bad way, please lie to me. I know the jungle can be harsh.”

“Quite the contrary. You lookmore mature. Not so much in the physical sense as what I can see in your eyes.”

“I think that’s called wisdom. Before I went to medical school I was here with my parents, working as their helper. They had everything under control and that’s what I expected to come back to. But when I did come back, my mother was gone, and my dad wasn’t the same. He stayed around long enough to help me find my way, then he went to live his own life, leaving me here with a lot of expectations that weren’t mine to have. I expected what my parents had but my reality was that I had to build my own place here, gain trust that was mine and not my parents’. So I wised up pretty fast. Had to in order to survive.”

“Well, it looks good on you.” Layla turned back to the yakitori, pulled a metal pot off the shelf above it and dumped in her fried rice. While it heated, she ate large chunks of papaya and mango with her fingers.

“You’ve changed, too,” Arlo said, still wrestling to find a comfortable position. “You used to bereserved. Or at least not as sure of yourself. You grew out of that a little while we were together but now you’re this dynamic ball of fire that plows through everything. Instead of talking about what you wanted to happen, you’re making things happen in your life, and I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

She pulled the rice off the little stove then turned back to face him. “Care to share?” she asked, thinking of the many times they’d ordered one meal and shared it, both eating from the same plate. Sometimes feeding each other. Often with just fingers. So nice. Sensual. So much intimacy in such a simple gesture.

Patting his flat belly, Arlo shook his head. “When I make evening calls, I have to pace myself with what I eat because everybody wants to cook for me.”

“And I usually grab something from the hospital before I leave for the evening.” She wrinkled her nose. “Haven’t learned to cook properly yet.”

“Well, I didn’t move in with you because you were a domestic goddess. And I did know that you sneaked in a maid to do the cleaning.”

“Seriously?” And she’d thought she’d been so stealthy about it.

“Remember that vacuum we bought? You didn’t even know how to turn it on. It was a flip switch. On and off. And you didn’t know how. Yet the apartment was always spotless.” He laughed so hard it caused a spasm in his back. “I let you keep your secret because you were trying so hard to be domestic that I didn’t want you to know I was well aware of the real you.”

“Only once a week,” she said, taking her plate of rice across the room and sitting down across from Arlo. At a safe distance. So there was no way to lean, or touch, or even accidentally brush up against him. “And I really thought you didn’t catch on.”

“Oh, I caught on. But it wascute, how you’d try to hide things. Like more shoes, when you bought them. I was always wise to you, Layla.”

“But I was never wise to you. So, how did that happen?”

“I think we see what we want to see. Or we don’t see what we don’t want to see. I don’t think you wanted to see the real me.”

“Yet you wanted to see the real me.”

“Because there was so much to see. So many facets.” He smiled. “And secrets.”

“Secrets? Besides the shoes and the maid, and the takeaway food. Oh, and the laundry”

“You had someone do the laundry?”

She nodded, watching his face for a reaction. Which happened immediately in a broad smile and a loud laugh. “Are you kidding me? Because I never knew that.”

“I didn’t want you thinking I was too incompetent. But I didn’t know how to sort laundry or even turn on a machine.”

“So, who?”

“The woman who worked for my mother. She’d stop by a couple times a week, grab what needed to be cleaned and leave what she’d already done. So, is there a secret behind those sandals?” She referred to the well-worn pair sitting on the shelf outside the door. “Because I don’t see another pair of shoes in here.” Traditionally, shoes were left outside on a rack, and houses were entered either barefoot or in socks. It was interesting that Arlo respected tradition enough to do that in his own hut, where he wouldn’t have to if he didn’t want to. It was a nice quality, paying homage to a tradition that wasn’t his. Yet he fit this place so well. Much better than any place she’d ever tried to fit. She envied him that as it was something she doubted she’d ever have.

“Until I can afford a new pair, it’s them or nothing.”

“And I’m betting that once you have enough money for a new pair, you put that money to what you would consider a better use.” Arlo was like that. Always taking care of others before he took care of himself. Even when they’d been together and Layla had been struggling through a particularly difficult lesson in physiology or couldn’t quite remember the function of every bone in the body, he’d stop his studying to help her through hers.

There were so many little details she’d taken for granted then, which were coming back to her now. To think she’d had so much yet couldn’t hold onto it. And maybe, in some ways, she’d pushed it away, knowing she came in second to his dream—a dream that would never include her.

“I might,” he confessed. “But the soles are still intact, the straps keep them on me, and with a little tape I’m good for now. Besides, I don’t have a closet, so where would I put them since you’ve got, what? Ten pairs lined up against the wall?” He tossed her a sexy wink.

There was something to be said for a doctor who devoted everything he had to his practice. She did admire that. Much more now that she could see it than before, when it had been mere words. And while none of this was for her in the long term, she was anxious to see how it worked. To see how Arlo worked. For his sake, she hoped everything was good for him because, despite their rocky time at the end, she did want him to be happy with his choice, even though his choice didn’t include her.

“You don’t happen to still have some of those socks I bought you, do you? They’d look stunning with your sandals.”

She smiled, thinking of all the outrageous socks and underpants she’d bought him over the course of their relationship, trying to loosen him up a bit. Not that he was stodgy. But he was a man of habit. Everything was the same—all his socks alike, the same with his underpants. So every now and then she’d thrown in something a little different and hidden one of his tried-and-trues.

At first, it had simply been colors. Red socks, plaid socks. Then figures—pickles, kittens. Santas for Christmas. Hearts for Valentine’s Day. Eventually came the unicorn socks, underpants and T-shirts. And that was when he’d finally commented. Actually, his comment had been to balk at wearing them, but by the time the unicorns had arrived he’d had no choice but to wear what she’d bought as she’d hidden everything else.

“Ah, yes. The unicorns. Those got dumped in the trash shortly after I left.”

“But you wore them.”

“Did I have a choice? You took away everything else. And did I ever tell you how badly I was ridiculed in the locker room at the hospital when I changed into my scrubs?”

“You never said a word, but I heard.”

“Everybody heard, and I was so”

“Cute. Maybe even a little bit sexy.”

“In unicorns? I was going to say I was so humiliated.”

“Yeah, but remember the night you came home and paraded those unicorns around the—” This was going too far. The memories were of something she shouldn’t be remembering. Yet being around Arlo seemed to knock down all her defenses—defenses she’d struggled to raise in the few days she’d had between knowing she was coming here until arriving. “You know what? Instead of tea, I think I’d like to go back over to the hospital to make sure I’ve replaced everything I used today.”

“You can’t run from it, Layla. We have history, and considering what we were together I’m not sure you should have come.”

She pushed herself off the floor and took the plate over to the bucket that was used for washing dishes. “I’m not denying what we had, Arlo. And you’re not the reason I’m here. I want that promotion and I thought that if Ollie saw how well I could function under adversity, that would put me one step closer.”

“Is the jungle the real adversity here, or am I?”

She didn’t answer him, because she didn’t know what to say. So maybe she’d deluded herself into believing that Arlo wouldn’t be a factor in her goals. Or maybe she’d simply hoped he wouldn’t. Whatever the case, he was an obstacle and she was going to have to be very careful. Because in the span of only one day a new truth about the way she’d felt about Arlo was trying to force itself in. And it was a truth she didn’t want to admit was there.

It was interesting, getting to again know someone he’d shared a bed with for two years. In many ways she was still the same, yet in as many ways she was different. She’d never really asked questions about how he’d live his life here when they’d been together. Mostly, she’d assumed what it would be, and had let that play on the way she accepted things. Now, watching her face his reality, she wasn’t overwhelmed the way she might have been years ago. Curious, yes. Even ready to be involved. But she was looking at things differently. Even seeing him differently. Of course, he was seeing her differently as well. Time and maturity, he supposed. And also a good dose of their own, personal realities.

“Tell me about Eric,” she said, from the other side of the curtain.

It was late, but he wasn’t ready to sleep. Neither was she, as he’d been listening to her over there for the past hour, settling in, making adjustments, arranging her belongings. Getting her cot well away from the drippy ceiling so she wouldn’t feel the splash as the leaking water hit the bucket. As he recalled, she’d never been the first to go to sleep. She was more of a polyphasic sleeper—sleeping in bursts, napping in between—while he was a hunker down and get to sleep as fast as he could kind of guy. He remembered the many nights when he’d waken briefly to find her simply staring at him. It was nice, knowing she watched him sleep.

“He’s got a good life going. Married, has a son. Living in Japan.”

“Did he ever get to see your mom before she—?”

“He did. It was difficult for both of them, especially with the way she left him when he was so young.”

“And you didn’t even know you had a brother until you were, what? Twenty?”

“Almost twenty-one.”

“I never knew how something like that could happen. I always wanted a brother or sister because I was so alone growing up. If I’d found out, only after I was an adult, that I had a brother or sister, I don’t know that I could have forgiven my parents.” She poked her head around the curtain. “Yet you’ve always seemed very calm about that.”

“Because I was.”

“But not Eric?”

“He had a lot of resentment, even after he knew the reason our mother walked away. I think being a married man with a family of his own has made it better for him. And I can’t even begin to understand what it would be like having a mother who walked away from me. But that’s what our mother did.”

“And you don’t resent her for keeping her secret?”

“What I resent was that Eric’s dad put her in the position that forced her to keep secrets from her sons. I don’t blame her for what she did, and in time I don’t think Eric will either.”

“But the good news is you have a brother.”

“And the relationship between us is getting better. Can’t say that it’s great yet. Especially since we live in two totally different worlds. But it’s nice knowing he’s out there.”

“So, did your mother ever tell you why? Or am I getting too personal?”

“It’s personal, but you lived through some of the ups and downs of it, so you have a right to know.”

She came around the curtain, with her hair up in a ponytail the ways she’d always put it up at night, but instead of the cute nightwear she used to wear—short shorts, barely there belly shirts—she was wearing knee-length cargo pants, a baggy T-shirt and boots. Still cute, in its own special way.

“She tried legally for partial custody, but Eric’s father wanted his legacy and my mother was only the means by which he could get what he wanted. After he had his son, he didn’t need her, so he kicked her out. Then after she tried to maintain a place in Eric’s life—let’s just say that in my own dad’s earlier days he wasn’t a saint. He smoked some weed, was arrested a couple of times—although he has no convictions.

“But Eric’s dad found out and used that to threaten my mother—told her he’d expose her husband, my dad, and by that time she’d had me and he also said he’d expose her as an unfit mother for allowing me to be raised by a man like my dad. Things were different back then. My mother was afraid of losing me, and afraid my dad could lose his medical license, even though there were never any real charges brought against him. Eric’s dad had a lot of power and he wasn’t afraid to use it. Also, because she’d been so abused by Eric’s dad to begin with, she simply didn’t have the wherewithal to fight him.

“So, because she feared losing both my dad and me, after she’d already lost Eric, she walked away.” He paused, then sighed. It was a sad sigh that resounded loudly through the hut, filling it with the same sadness. “My mother wasn’t a fighter, Layla. She was a very quiet, undemanding person. And after all she’d already suffered”

“I’m so sorry,” Layla whispered. “You didn’t know this when we were—?”

He shook his head. “My dad only told me the whole story a couple years ago. He kept my mother’s secret for a long time, then finally decided it was time I knew everything.”

“And you told Eric?”

“He had a right to know. He was settling into his new life and I knew he harbored a lot of resentment for our mother, but because his son was our mother’s grandchild, I thought for Riku’s sake—that’s his name—everybody needed to know the truth. And I did want my nephew to know how amazing his grandmother was. She was part of his heritage and he deserves to know the good about her. Eric didn’t want to know, but for the sake of his son I had to tell him.”

“I wish I’d known. Wish I could have helped you. Some things are so difficult when you’re alone. I really am sorry for that.”

“Well, the good news is Eric now has memories of a mother he can be proud of, and Riku has a grandmother who would have loved him more than life itself. He’ll understand that when he’s old enough. Eric will make sure.”

Layla wiped a tear siding down her cheek. “And your father?”

“In Cambodia. Doing well. Running a little clinic in a tourist area.”

“And I thought I had it bad because while I had my parents’ time, I never really had their love. At least, love in the sense that I think parents should have for their children.”

“Maybe they did the best they could, the way my mother did.”

“They do,” she admitted. “But that understanding comes as an adult, not as a child who was simply lonely. Anyway, I’m going to get some sleep. It’s been a long, full day and since Chauncy has vacated my bed now, I think it’s time.”

This time, Arlo lay awake long after Layla was asleep, thinking back on the day. This morning, he’d known someone was coming. Hadn’t known who but wasn’t surprised as Ollie would have sent him only the best. And Layla was the best. It concerned him she was here, but he was also looking forward to the next couple of months with her. No deluding himself about anything, though. She was still Layla, and Layla didn’t belong here. On top of that, she didn’t want to belong here. But over the course of the years there’d been many, many times when he’d wondered what it would be like, having Layla at his side.

Well, for a little while he had that chance, and he was glad about that. What he wasn’t glad about were the feelings that would hit him again once she’d gone. He’d been through that and had been nearly crippled by emotions he’d never expected. It wasn’t until he’d left her that he’d truly realized how much he’d loved her. This time he was smarter. No hearts involved meant no hearts broken. And she was clear that her heart was in her career and nowhere ese. But his? Where was it?

“Damn,” he muttered, as he blew out the kerosene lamp and turned over on his side. Winced because of his back. Then turned again.

“I really do need to look at that,” she said from the other side of the curtain. “Tomorrow. I’ll pencil you in as my first appointment of the day.”

He smiled. She never gave up. That may have been one of the things he’d loved most about her back then. But now?

“Baby’s on the way”

Layla didn’t open her eyes when Arlo’s voice wafted over her. It was a dream. They were cozy in their apartment, cuddled up, studying. Maybe some playing mixed in. And he was explaining

“Contractions just a couple of minutes apart, Layla.”

“Dilated?” she asked, her mind still all snuggly on a sofa back in New York.

“Has been since yesterday, when I checked her.”

She loved his voice when it was all serious. It was deeper, sexier. “Epidural, I’m assuming,” she said.

“We don’t do epidural out here.”

“Better call anesthesia.” He should have already done that. She didn’t understand why he hadn’t.

“Do you want to come with me, Layla?”

“Where?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“To deliver a baby.”

This time her eyes shot open and she realized where she was. Not in Arlo’s arms, studying the basics of childbirth, but in a jungle hut with a patient who was ready to deliver. She bolted upright. “Who’s with her?” she asked, sliding off the cot and running over to the door to grab her boots.

“Empty them first,” Arlo warned. “I can’t handle a delivery and a snakebite at the same time.”

Reality. This was her reality for a while. She shook the dream away totally as vigorously as she shook her boots. “How long has she been in labor?”

“Off and on since yesterday. I checked her earlier, when I was making rounds, and contractions were still about ten minutes apart. But it seemed to have sped up.”

“How long have I been sleeping?” she asked. The fact was her sleeping was so erratic, she often didn’t know.

“About two hours.”

“And you’ve been working”

“About the same.”

Layla grabbed her medical rucksack and rushed out the door. Arlo followed, amused by the way she went from sound asleep to at the ready. She’d always been a little bit difficult to wake, but once he’d succeeded she’d been on the spot, bright-eyed and ready to go. “Her mother’s with her. And her grandmother. Also, there’s a midwife, and she’ll do most of the work.”

“So what will we do?” she asked.

“Respect the traditions. I just thought you might want to see how this works, since we’ve got at least a dozen more pregnant women in the village and you’ll no doubt be called to watch but not participate in the birth unless there’s a problem.”

“I know a lot of places in the world don’t welcome outside interference. Is this one of them?”

“No. They love having a hospital. It’s the only one around for nearly a hundred miles, so they take pride in having medical services here. But they also have their traditions, which I don’t interfere with unless they become a problem.” He pointed to a well-apportioned hut, one with a door, at the end of the road. “It’s bigger than yours,” she said, following him up the path to the front door.

“Because I don’t have my parents, grandparents and children living with me. Family is a large part of their tradition.”

Which she saw for herself when she and Arlo went inside. There were women cooking, children playing, men talking. And in the doorway to the area where the bedrooms probably were stood an old woman holding a tiny bundle in her hands. “I see they didn’t really need us,” Layla said, pushing her way through the crowd to look at the newborn. The old woman, named Hanni, immediately put the baby in Layla’s arms then headed off to the area where the food was being prepared. In her medical practice Layla didn’t deal with children and, in all honesty, she hadn’t even handled one since her rotation through Pediatrics during her residency. And this one—he was so tiny. Red, wrinkled and screaming for all he was worth.

“They named him Arlo,” Arlo said, stepping to her side.

“Even though you didn’t deliver him?”

“It’s a tribute.”

“So, how many little Arlos are running around the village?”

“At last count, five. This Arlo makes number six.”

“Well, if ever there was a village legacy” Layla grinned, reaching down to take baby Arlo’s tiny fingers. “Suppose you have a son someday and want to call him Arlo? What then?”

“Just accept the fact that he’ll be one of the many.” He pulled back the blanket to have a better look at the baby. “You look good with a baby. Ever thought that maybe you might?”

“I haven’t changed on that,” she said. “I told you back then I didn’t want children, and I still don’t. I’m the living proof of how badly it can work out when the parents are all about career, and I’d never want that for my child because, in my family, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, even though the career tree is different.” She handed the baby over to him. “Think I’ll go look in on the mother to make sure she’s getting along OK.” And to get away from the cozy feeling of home and family that was coming over her.

“I’ve got another house call to make after this,” he called after her. She heard him but didn’t respond as she ducked out of the room and found an empty room down the hall where she could hide long enough to gather her wits. And will her hands to stop shaking. Of everything that was going to be difficult here, this might be the worst. Because she’d had these thoughts before. Although she’d never told Arlo. What was the point when their directions were so vastly different?

It was mid-afternoon when they caught up again. Layla had taken the hospital calls while Arlo had done rounds in the village.

It was nice having her here to help him. While his assistant was good, he wasn’t a doctor so his duties were limited. But having two doctors here—the way his parents had been—would be nice. Even after only a day and a half, he was getting spoiled by it.

But not spoiled enough to let himself believe the other doctor would be Layla. Because, as they said, a leopard didn’t change its spots. Neither did Layla. One look at the baby and the almost panicked expression on her face had said it all.

“I’ve got a house call to make. It’s out some way, so I thought you’d like to go with me to see some of the countryside. And if you don’t, could I borrow your SUV?”

They were both back in the hut, getting tidied up for the rest of the day. When Arlo peeked around the dividing curtain to talk to her, he had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing. Chauncy had managed to find his way onto Layla’s lap, and she was simply sitting cross-legged on the cot, petting him. Normally, he wasn’t quite so friendly with strangers, but Layla did have a way about her. Especially considering that Chauncy wouldn’t even cuddle up to him that way.

Somehow, seeing a gray, ring-tailed raccoon-looking mongoose-rat creature all cozy with her caused a lump to form in his throat. This was the other side of her, one he’d loved as much as he’d loved her harder side. There’d been times when she’d just snuggle into him for no reason and simply exist in his embrace. No kidding, no anything else. Just touch. Sensation. And he’d enjoyed those moments as they’d felt so caring. So consuming.

“What do we have?” she asked, plucking a quartered mango from a bowl next to her and handing it to Chauncy.

As the juice dribbled down her arm, Arlo could almost imagine himself kissing her arm along its trail. Stopping at her neck. Kissing ithe loved the way she was so ticklish there. As hard as she’d tried to fight it, she couldn’t. And the fightit had always led to more. A little shove back onto the bed, some pillow play, clothes flying everywhere But these were dangerous thoughts, as he began to experience the stirrings of feelings and emotions he hadn’t had in a long, long time. And while they were sexual, they weren’t purely sexual the way they had been before. “It’s dengue fever. Two members of one household.”

“Hemorrhagic?”

Arlo raised his eyebrows in bold appreciation. “I see you know your dengue fever.”

“A little. I did some reading on the plane. Not enough, but as much as I could to give me a good start here.”

“Well, then—no. It’s not hemorrhagic. But it did come on in the typical symptoms: high fever, headache, vomiting, muscle and joint pain, and a characteristic skin rash. We’re at the end of it, too. This will probably be my last trip out there, which means the house calls on this one will be yours in the future, because dengue can relapse. So rather than having me do a daily check, you can do one every three or four days for a couple of weeks.”

“Your treatment choice?” she asked.

“Supportive, for the most part. It’s a mother and her five-year-old daughter. The rest of the family is fine.”

“And by supportive you mean force liquids and treat other symptoms as they occur?”

“Exactly. Since it’s a virus, that’s about all we can do. Kanika and her daughter Achara went home from the hospital yesterday morning. They’d been here the week prior, and now Kanika’s mother will be taking care of them until they’re fully recovered. People here really opt for short-term stays. Or home care, when they can. So, from here on out it’s mostly just rest and proper nutrition. And better mosquito netting.”

“Do you see much dengue out here?” Layla asked.

“A fair amount, but not epidemic-sized. There have been efforts by the government to control the mosquitoes, but some of the remote areas such as this don’t get a lot of help. I’ve petitioned for more netting and was allocated some, but not enough.”

“Then I’ll get some. How many do I need and who do I contact to make arrangements?”

“I’ve already petitioned for it, Layla. It will get here in due course.”

“Could I get it here faster?”

“In the jungle, patience is a virtue. We get what we need, but sometimes we have to wait.”

“And in the meantime people are being exposed to mosquito-borne disease. Why would you want to be patient about that?”

This was the same old Layla. Impatient for results. Impatient to move up. Impatient to get to the next thing on her list. He’d gotten used to it but coming from a place where impatience produced ulcers more than it did results, he’d never been one to indulge. And he worried that she did as it increased the chance that she would continually be dissatisfied in her life.

Impatient people risked feeling overwhelmed. They set themselves up for failure and got down on themselves when it happened. And they burned out easily. Layla was too bright to burn out, but her impatience was leading her straight down that path. He’d warned her over and over when they’d been together. She hadn’t listened. Or maybe she’d thought she was somehow impervious to the pitfalls.

He didn’t know which, but the Layla standing here with him right now hadn’t budged from the Layla of the past. “Because that’s the way it is here. We get what we need when it’s available and always keep in mind there are twenty-five regions here, and each one has several hospitals just like ours, all needing the same things we need. Everybody gets served, but we have to realize that we’re not the only ones in line.”

“But what if I can cut that line?”

“I can’t stop you. I never could. But be careful that cutting that line doesn’t cost you somewhere later in your career. We’re not impatient people out here, Layla. And we don’t see the stress-related disease brought on by impatience here the way so many doctors see it in the more civilized societies. But you already know that.”

“So what you’re saying is you wouldn’t support me trying to use my connections to get you what you need?”

“What I’m saying is we all do what we have to do. If buying netting from a private source is what you must do, then do it.”

“And in return I’ll get to listen to you complain.”

“No. I don’t complain about anything anyone donates, Layla. In fact, I’m grateful for it. And if you buy netting, I’ll be grateful for that. But you do need to know what you’re facing since you’ll be working here for a while. It’s rewarding and frustrating, in that order. And if you let it, it will tear you up.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Arlo.”

He smiled. “Sometimes I wonder about that myself. But, for the most part, it works out. And I’ve got five hundred people living in the village and the same number living just outside who support me and help any way they can. And they’re not impatient when they have to wait. I’m also not treating one ulcer in my whole practice.”

“Point taken. But I still want to support you with some netting.”

Ah, yes. The stubborn Layla got the last word. He’d expected it. And back when they’d been together, the making up that had come afterward had almost been worth the disagreement. It had always been more—intense. Arlo smiled, remembering. Almost missing those times. “And let me thank you in advance, because mosquitoes are a huge problem. So, tell me. Does your impatience get in the way of your medical practice? And I’m not trying to start something here. More like curious about an aspect of you I’ve always known.”

“It’s part of who I am as a doctor. When I order a test, I don’t want to wait days for the results. When I order medications, I want them immediately. My patients expect that from me. So does your grandfather.”

“He doesn’t mind your impatience?”

“It gets results, so why should he?”

“You’re always about the climb, aren’t you?”

“That shouldn’t come as news. And maybe time has escalated my impatience,” she said, smiling. “However it works, it serves my patients well, and that’s always the bottom line for me.”

“But what about your own personal bottom line, Layla? I know you have an agenda, as most people do, but what happens to you if something derails it? What if you don’t get this promotion? You’ve been working for it the whole time you’ve been a doctor, so what do you do with yourself when it doesn’t happen? Do you take stock of the things you’ve put aside to get it? Do you regret what you’ve missed on that climb?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “For me, my life is designed around forward momentum. If that stopped, if I couldn’t get where I wanted to go, I have no idea what I’d do. Maybe try someplace else. Maybe still keep pushing despite the roadblock.”

“At what cost, though?”

“Do you really care, Arlo?”

“Surprisingly, yes. I know how you struggle to get ahead. I lived with it until I realized I couldn’t compete with it.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” she said.

“I don’t regret what we were, Layla. I walked away from us as a better man. But I did worry about your direction. In a lot of ways, it was much more difficult than mine. It still is.” And, yes, he still worried. More than he should.