Читать книгу A Family for the Children's Doctor - Dianne Drake, Dianne Drake - Страница 5

BAD news. Why wasn’t she surprised? Judging from his body language throughout his phone call, she’d been pretty sure the news wasn’t good. Then, when he’d caught her eye and deliberately turned his back, she’d gotten the distinct impression that his bad news, in some way, affected her. Which could only mean he was backing out of his promise. The expression on his face right now confirmed it.

Caprice braced herself for the actual words, still hoping she was wrong. “Why do I get the feeling your bad news has direct bearing on me and Operation Smiling Faces?”

“Because it does. I have to return to Miami as soon as I can catch a plane out of here. Family emergency.”

“Someone died?” she gasped.

Adrian shook his head.

“Injured, ill?”

He shook his head again.

Now she was beginning to wonder. “Disaster?”

“No. Just something personal I need to take care of.”

Personal? The man had a personal problem and he was about to dump them? She shook her head in disbelief. It truly hadn’t crossed her mind that someone with such a sterling reputation as Adrian McCallan’s would back out on her. But he was doing just that, and he wasn’t giving her a good reason. There were many things she could and would accept, but a vague personal reason? “And what about your obligation here?” she asked, trying to delay her anger in case there really was a valid reason for him leaving.

“I don’t have a choice. I’ve been called back because of…” He frowned. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say that some finished business back home wasn’t as finished as I’d thought it was.”

“Unfinished business.” Initial shock over with now, it was all beginning to sink in and the anger was starting to bubble. He was leaving for nothing that seemed all that pressing, which meant there would be a shortage in her medical teams. They were geared up for four teams, and Adrian’s departure would reduce their workforce by one-fourth, because without the anesthesiologist the surgeon could not operate. As simple as that. Children expecting follow-up surgeries, or even the beginning surgeries in a long series of procedures, wouldn’t get what they expected because of Adrian’s unfinished business. In his two weeks here, that could mean as many as fifteen or twenty surgeries not getting done, fifteen or twenty children expecting a miracle and a smile being turned away. More tears over more ridicule.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what this unfinished business is, would you? I have numerous contacts back in the States, and maybe I can find someone to take care of your problems so you won’t have to leave.” Nice try, but from the dead hard set to his face, she knew she’d failed. He wasn’t about to tell her any more than he already had.

“Nothing you can help with,” he said gruffly. “And I’m sorry it worked out this way. I really intended to fulfill my part of the obligation. Unfortunately, it’s simply not meant to be this time.”

“Not meant to be?” she exploded, unable to keep it in any longer. “You’re pushing this off like it’s a casual trip to the grocery store. Can’t go this time but maybe next time. I resent that, Doctor, since so many people are depending on you as part of the surgical team.” Caprice glanced at Isabella, who’d stopped eating and was staring up wide-eyed at her, then she took a deep breath to steady herself. “We had an agreement, Dr McCallan,” she said stiffly, aware that there was no way, legal or otherwise, she could keep him there if he chose to leave. “I counted on you keeping your word.”

“So did I, Dr Bonaventura, but, like I said, something came up.”

“So, what am I supposed to do? Tell my patients that they’ll have to go away because something came up? Try to schedule them for another time, even though my next three trips down here are already booked solid with former patients? Tell them, tough luck, that a hemangioma doesn’t matter, or that Goldenhar syndrome can be fixed by heavy cosmetics, low-brimmed hats and lots of scarves? Because that’s not good enough. These people expect that when I promise them a procedure I’ll deliver it, and part of that delivery is you, Dr McCallan. Some of these children have waited for years and it’s not fair to tell them I’ll have to put them back on the list, that they might have to wait another few months or years.” She slapped her napkin down on the table, scooted her chair back across the floor so hard it hit the empty chair behind her, and stood. “That’s not good enough. And it’s not fair.”

“I’ll find a replacement,” he offered. “As soon as I return I’ll make some calls.”

“And have someone here when? By tomorrow morning? Because that’s when we open the clinic and start evaluating patients, looking at new cases coming in—and there will be dozens of them—and doing physicals for the children already scheduled for surgery. Will you have me that replacement by then, Doctor?”

“Who’s next on the list?” he asked. “I’ll call them right now, and I’ll assume the financially responsibility to get them here. I mean, it’s really not my intention to cause you any problems here. So, I’ll be glad to—”

“You’re next on the list, Doctor,” Caprice interrupted. “My other replacement wasn’t available, and the one after that is out with another of the Operation Smiling Face units right now. Meaning you were last on the list.”

“Last on the list?” he sputtered.

“Last. Very last. People are good to send money, but finding time to volunteer is another thing.”

“He’s not coming back to Dulce with us?” Isabella piped up.

Caprice turned to her daughter, fighting hard to erase the angry expression from her face. “No, sweetie, he’s not. He’s got to go back home as soon as he can.”

Isabella scrunched her face into a sulky little frown, then crossed her arms angrily across her chest. “I don’t want him to. I want Adrian to stay.”

Great, just great! One fleeing doctor, one pouting child. Could this day get any worse? “So do I, but it’s not my decision to make.”

“But you’re the boss,” she cried. “Can’t you make him?”

Caprice turned back to Adrian. “What would it take to convince you to stay?” she asked, the anger returning the instant she looked at him. This man was really leaving her in a lurch, and all she could think about were the disappointments and heartbreak she would have to cause. She hated that. Hated him for being the cause of it. “If it’s money—”

“Not money,” he interrupted. “Like I said, it’s just some matters that need my attention.”

“Can’t they wait for two weeks?”

He shook his head. “Look, I feel bad about this. I really wanted to come out here and do the work. And I’ll be willing to come back at another time…”

“Once is all you get, Doctor. I can’t afford second chances when somebody stands me up on the first chance. Not with the workload we carry here. It would be foolish of me to trust you again. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Then maybe one of the other units will have me in the future because I really want to do this. But right now I’ve got to get home. Sorry about that.”

Sorry? He was sorry? “Not half as sorry as the children will be,” she said, taking Isabella by the hand and leading her away from the table. As Caprice swished by Adrian, she shoved the check for the ice cream at him, then marched on out the door. Wasn’t much of a last word, and ever since her marriage to Tony had ended, she tried always to get the last word. No, a check for ice cream wasn’t much of a last word, but under the circumstances it was the best she could do.

Damn it, this wasn’t the way it should have worked out. Not only had Sylvie’s little ploy upset his mother, it had disrupted an important medical operation. All things considered, Dr Bonaventura had been very good about it. Much better than he would have been. She was actually pretty sexy when riled, he thought. Not that he’d intended to rile her. But he sure couldn’t help but see the obvious.

Sexy aside, though, he felt sick about what he had to do. Thinking about all those children who wouldn’t have their surgeries because of him…because of Sylvie…literally made him sick to his stomach. Suppose Sean had been one of those children? Suppose he’d been on a waiting list for a medical procedure only to be turned away because some selfish idiot of a woman had pulled a stupid stunt for money? Or some idiot of a man had never seen it coming?

Damn, he cursed himself for this as much as he did Sylvie. And in the meantime, a whole lot of innocent people were going to suffer. That was inexcusable. Absolutely inexcusable!

Adrian paid the bill then stepped out onto the street and spotted Caprice and Isabella fairly flying down the sidewalk. They were trying to get away from him, and he couldn’t blame them. What he’d just done wasn’t a very noble thing. In fact, it was downright despicable and he was embarrassed. “Ben,” he said, cellphone to his ear, as he followed them. “Suppose something detained me here and I couldn’t get home right away?”

“What do you mean?” his attorney asked.

“Realistically, how much help can I be if I come back to Miami today? Is there anything I can do to help find Sylvie and get Sean back?”

“Not much. I’ve got my best investigator on it, and the truth is, unless Sylvie wants to be found, there’s a good chance she won’t be until she’s damn good and ready. She wants to take you good this time, and you know what I’ve got to say about that.”

“Same thing you always say. Take it to court. Try and get all her parental privileges revoked. But you know what I’ve got to say about that.”

“I know. You want to protect Sean from all the ugliness, and I do understand that, Adrian. But until you can legally put Sylvie in her place, this is going to happen over and over. Also, if you think that having her take Sean with her is going to traumatize him any less than what he’s going through, being torn in half by the two of you, you’re sadly mistaken. Sylvie wants it all, and if she doesn’t succeed this time, next time’s only going to be worse. And Sean will be the one to suffer then, too. Bottom line is, you can’t protect him any more. He’s old enough to understand what this is about, and while you’ve fought a hard battle and done a good job taking care of him and protecting him, it’s out of your control now. Sylvie’s seen to that.”

That much was true. Ben was right. “I’ll give it some thought, and we’ll talk about it when I’m back in the States. For now, I don’t want the police involved, if there’s any way we can get around it.”

“They’re not particularly interested, so I don’t see any reason to drag them in. Like I said, I’ve got the best investigator on it money can buy. If Sylvie’s anywhere to be found, Paul Radke will find her. And going back to your first question about how much you’re needed here—my advice is to stay where you are. You’re too hot-headed when it comes to Sylvie. I don’t want you dealing with her yet. Especially if we’re going to position ourselves to get her into court at some time in the future.”

True again. He did tend to lose his temper where his ex-wife was concerned. Every time he did, she benefitted. From his bank account to her pocketbook.

“Communications aren’t good where I’m going. At least not by cellphone.”

“They have land lines and computers, don’t they?”

Grudgingly, Adrian conceded that they did. He really did want to go home, to be there for Sean when Sylvie brought him back, to take Sylvie to task one more time. But there was Caprice Bonaventure and Operation Smiling Faces to consider, too, and she didn’t deserve the fallout from this war between Sylvie and him. Neither did the children.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, Adrian doubled his pace to catch up to Caprice. “I’ll give you all my contact numbers and references as soon as I get to the hospital,” he told Ben.

“Good decision.”

“Then why the hell am I not feeling good about it?” he grunted.

“I’ll handle it, Adrian. Don’t worry. You know Sean’s safe with her. And if I need you here for any reason, I’ll let you know.”

That was the way they left it, and as Adrian tucked his cellphone back in his pocket, he wasn’t sure what he felt. He was sick over leaving Sean behind. Caprice had Isabelle here, and if Sylvie hadn’t interfered so much he’d have had Sean here, too. He was also worried. What father wouldn’t be? His son was missing. Safe or not with Sylvie, Sean wasn’t where he was supposed to be. That’s the only thing that counted here. So maybe Ben was right. Maybe it was time to bring an end to Sylvie’s involvement.

Or bring an end to his own if Sylvie had a mind to do it, as, after all, he really wasn’t Sean’s father.

“I thought he was nice,” Isabella said, as Caprice slowed down a little once they were away from the ice-cream shop.

“Nice, maybe, but when you make a promise you’re supposed to keep it.” Like Tony had promised to be a father to Isabella, even after the divorce. Like Adrian had promised to be her anesthesiologist. Other things always got in the way, didn’t they? And it was so easy to drop the really important matters when they did. Tony did without a flinch, and Adrian had without even the batting of an eyelash. So had her father, in so many ways.

Which was why she didn’t get involved with men on any level. She just didn’t trust them. Simple as that. Keep them at an arm’s length personally, let them stand in their professional place with her, but nothing else. That kept Isabella safe. Kept her safe, too.

Fighting the urge to look back to see if Adrian was watching them, and she knew he was from the feel of the prickly goose-bumps popping out on her arms, Caprice turned the corner and spotted the little landing strip at the private airport. Grant Makela was there, leaning casually against the airplane, eating a mango. Baggy khaki shorts hanging down to his knees, red and yellow Hawaiian print cotton shirt, sandals… Nice guy, Grant. He worked in a clinic on Oahu. Born and raised there, he was good for a couple weeks away from the islands before he got homesick and went back. But she could count on him for two trips during the year. Being a pilot helped, too. One of the local ranchers donated the plane, and Grant flew it when necessary.

He was truly one of the few men she did trust. Not her type, in his overly casual ways. But she liked him. Like a brother. And right now she couldn’t get to the plane fast enough. All she wanted was to leave San José and put the whole, ugly scene with Adrian McCallan miles behind her. Of course, what she was about to face wasn’t good—so many people to let down. But there was nothing she could do about that.

“Caprice!”

She heard the shout from behind her. Recognized the voice. Ignored it.

“Slow down. I want to talk to you.”

She didn’t want to talk to him, though. Not any more. What was there to talk about?

“Adrian wants us to stop, Mommy,” Isabella said, trying to tug her mother to a stop. “Mommy! We have to stop!” she cried, when Caprice only quickened her pace.

“If he wants to talk to me, he’ll have to catch up,” she replied stiffly, upping her pace even more, even though Isabella was trying to slow her down.

“Why don’t you l-like him?”

“I don’t know him well enough to like or dislike him,” she lied. Truth was, from that first tug of attraction until now, she simply didn’t know what she felt about Adrian. If he did have problems at home, and she certainly did understand problems at home as she’d had her fair share, she was being much too harsh about this. And as for the way Isabella acted toward him…well, the child liked him, and she was old enough to have her own opinions. Although Isabella’s quick reaction to Adrian did worry her some.

Still, what was it that had her nearly running away from a man she’d only just met?

“Look, Caprice, I don’t blame you for being angry, but I’ve made arrangements to stay.”

That stopped her. Dead in her tracks, actually. Taking a firmer grip on Isabella’s hand, she turned around slowly to face him. “So now you want to stay?” she snapped. “Quit one minute, come back the next?”

“I always wanted to stay,” he defended himself. “I didn’t think my circumstances would allow it, but I’ve made some arrangements that’ll let me stay here.”

She should have been glad to hear it, and deep down she was, but she still wasn’t able to react the way she should. Something about the man put her on the defensive. “Arrangements you could have made before you let me know how little you think of your obligation to Operation Smiling Faces? You’re not making a good first impression here, Doctor.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she couldn’t tell if the look was speculative, angry or amused. And that put her on the defensive all the more. “We’re a serious operation, and we deserve more respect than you’re giving us. I’m not so sure I want someone working with us who has an obvious lack of real concern for what we do, as you seem to.”

“You talk a lot, Doctor,” he said, his face dead serious even though a twinkle was in his dark eyes. “And say all the wrong things for someone who, only a few minutes ago, wanted me to stay.”

Standing there doing nothing more than staring at her, he was disarming her. Disarmed in one twinkle. Bad sign. Very bad sign, and she drew in a sharp breath to steady her resolve. “You expect me to grovel and slobber out a thank you after what you’ve put me through? Is that what this is about now? You’re trying to humble me, trying to put me in my place?”

“This is me trying to extend a sincere apology and honor my commitment. And what I expect you to do is get me to Operation Smiling Faces the fastest way you can.” He stepped up next to Isabella, who immediately latched onto his hand. “I’m sorry we got off to a bad start, and even more sorry about almost leaving. None of it is what I’d intended to happen, but it did, and all I can do is keep on apologizing. Or go to the hospital and start work, if you’ll have me. Your choice, Caprice. Do I stay, or do I go?”

In answer, Caprice started off toward the airplane, she holding one of Isabella’s hands, he holding the other. Neither Caprice nor Adrian spoke, but sandwiched between them, Isabella was smiling for all she was worth.

The flight was smooth enough, and Grant was certainly a fine pilot, but basically Caprice hated flying and hated flying in these little planes even more. Good thing for the Dramamine already in her system. She never flew without it. Good thing for the earphones, too, and the drone of Mozart from the CD player in her ears. None of this actually alleviated all her nervousness over stepping into an oversized tin can and having somebody hurl it straight into the air, but anything, short of tranquilizers, which she never took, that calmed her down and got rid of the nausea was just fine with her.

Isabella had gone to sleep almost immediately after they’d left the landing strip. She was curled up in the seat across from Caprice, totally oblivious to all the things that were currently making Caprice jumpy. Just as well. Poor child had enough problems without heaping her own phobia on top of them.

And Adrian… When he wasn’t sitting with a scowl on his face and a black cloud hanging over his head, he was shouting medical talk at Grant over the clatter of the engine. And so it went for the entire trip. When they finally landed on the grass strip cut into the thick of the jungle outside Golfito, Caprice was ready to get out and kiss the ground, she was so happy to be back.

“You don’t like flying much, do you?” Adrian asked, taking the sleeping child from the seat and carrying her to the door.

Caprice stepped up to take Isabella away from him, but he didn’t give her that choice. Instead, he exited the plane carrying her, taking obvious pains not to jostle or awaken her. Then when they were all on the ground and Caprice made another attempt to take Isabella, he shrugged her off.

“I can do that,” she whispered.

He smiled. “So can I, and for me she’s not so heavy.”

Caprice wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was he being considerate, or was he trying to impose himself into a place he didn’t belong? Maybe her need to over-protect was causing her to read more into a simple gesture than was there. “I hate flying,” she said, falling into step with Adrian as they crossed the grass on the way to the pickup truck sent to fetch them. “Always have. Always will.”

“There are pills for that,” he said.

“I could get liquored up, too, but I don’t. It’s easier to listen to Mozart. Better for the body, too.”

Adrian gave Caprice a sideways glance, one that extended from head to toe—one she was not unaware of—then returned his focus to the truck ahead. “Look, I know we’re off to a bad start here, and I’m sorry about that. Since I’ve decided to stay, I’d like for us to find some way to have a cordial working relationship.”

“Since you’ve decided to stay?” she snapped. “Your first choice is to not be here. I don’t know what changed your mind and kept you here, Dr McCallan, and truthfully I don’t want to know. We don’t get into other people’s personal business. But as for that cordial working relationship you want…our working relationships here don’t have outside factors coming into them. We don’t allow that. We have a lot of work to do in a very short time, and distractions are costly. So if you want cordial, that’s fine. But as for your bad start, that’s not so easily forgotten. You nearly threw us into a position that would have damaged us, and it was clear that staying here and honoring your obligation wasn’t important enough to you. And even now you’re only here because something else came up that kept you from going home. That didn’t get past me, Dr McCallan. So, as far as I’m concerned, you can be as sorry as you want, but I’m wary and I’m going to stay wary until you prove yourself to me. Now, would you, please, hand me my daughter?”

“Do you hate all men, or is it just me?” he asked, still hanging onto the sleeping girl.

Caprice narrowed her eyes in anger. “This mission is about the children, Dr McCallan. That’s all it’s about. You don’t get to ask me personal questions.”

“So do you like your work?” he asked, stopping next to the old, green, dented, rusty truck and turning to face Caprice.

“I said no questions.”

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You said personal questions. Asking you about your work is totally professional.”

Caprice opened the door to the passenger section behind the front seat and climbed in, then stretched out her arms to take Isabella. “How I feel about my work is highly personal, Dr McCallan,” she said as he slid the child over to her. Then, instead of continuing the discussion between them, or the argument, depending upon the perspective, she slammed the door shut, leaving Adrian to climb into the front seat with Grant and a local named Don Pepe, who’d volunteered to bring the truck to the landing strip.

No one said a word all the way to the hospital, partly because Isabella was still sleeping soundly—sleeping the way only a child could under the circumstances—and partly because Caprice’s bad mood seem to permeate even the rusty metal of the old truck. It wasn’t rational, the way she was feeling. She knew that. She even tried to force herself into a better mood, but something about Adrian McCallan was setting her off, and she simply didn’t know what it was. Meaning there was no way to put it right. She tried convincing herself that his preference to leave was the reason but, honestly, she knew better. That was only part of it, and the rest was a great big blank.

Sleep. After a good night of it things would be better tomorrow. She was sure of that. Well, not so sure as much as she hoped that would be the case. Because one thing was certain. If she didn’t get over it, working with Adrian McCallan was going to be impossible.

Briefly, she wondered if him going back to Miami might have been better for all concerned.

“I don’t know what you did to her,” Grant Makela said, showing Adrian to his little room. It was a sparse cell—bed, bathroom, chair, closet. Nothing inviting. Nothing nice. Just basic living space in the hospital resident quarters. “One of the reasons we all come out is because of Caprice. She’s extraordinary. Such passion.” He tossed Adrian’s duffle in the door. “She was pretty cheerful when we went to San José, but now…” He shrugged. “All I can say is good luck. She’s scheduled you to be on her surgical team, meaning the two of you are going to working in some pretty tight quarters. With the way she’s acting right now, all I can say is better you than me.”

“That ought to be fun, the two of us in the OR,” Adrian replied, thinking about the corrosive way in which the two of them had started. It was his fault entirely. He admitted that. Regretted it. But Caprice was as stubborn a woman as he’d ever met, and she wasn’t going to give him any mercy. Briefly, he wondered if anybody had ever earned her forgiveness.

Grant shrugged. “Well, whatever it is, I hope you get it worked out pretty soon, as we’ve got a full docket to get us started. Starting at seven tomorrow morning, by the way. And brace yourself for some long days. We work, on average, sixteen hours. Sometimes more. People are already lining up outside.”

Adrian went to the window and pulled back the blinds. Sure enough, there was a single line with about thirty people standing in it—mothers and fathers with children, grandparents, brothers and sisters—all people affected by a facial deformity in their lives. All there with the same purpose. “They’ll be here all night?” he asked.

“Some of them have been here since this morning. They come prepared for this.”

“But you won’t be able to see them all.”

“One way or another, everybody gets seen. Whether or not all the children get scheduled for a procedure is another thing. We prioritise. First, severity. Is the deformity affecting a substantial life issue like eating or drinking? Second, age. Caprice is very sensitive to how cruel people can be to children with facial deformities and she also knows that the older the child gets the more hurtful people can become, so she likes to get to the older children as soon as she can. Then another priority is the children who are likely to be abandoned because of the way they look, or may have already been abandoned. They go to the top of the list, too.”

“Then it’s not just about the procedure.”

Grant laughed. “Once you’ve been around for a couple of days, you’ll learn that there’s much more to this than only the medical procedure.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, it’s going to start early, and I’m ready to turn in for the night. If you’re hungry, there’s a staff lounge down the hall. Refrigerator is full. We keep it stocked as there won’t be any regularly scheduled meals, so help yourself. And I’ll see you bright and early.” With that, he gave Adrian a salute, backed out the door and closed it after him, leaving Adrian standing in the middle of his sparse room, wondering just what in the world he’d volunteered to do.

He didn’t stand there thinking for too long, however. Once he’d shoved his foldable clothes into a drawer and hung up the rest in the closet, he left his room and hurried down the hall in search of a telephone. His first few hours with Caprice Bonaventura had gotten off to a rocky start, but maybe there would be some good news from home. Maybe Sylvie had come to her senses, brought Sean back, and life was back to normal.

She was always restless the night before they opened the clinic. Tonight she was even more restless than usual. Probably because she was tired. Probably because she wasn’t sure that, come morning, her anesthesiologist would still be there. Certainly, he’d started off on the wrong foot, and not just by almost leaving. Actually, it wasn’t that he was mean or grumpy or had any personality traits that truly rubbed her the wrong way either. It’s just that, well…she didn’t know what it was. More than that, she didn’t want to think about it.

Taking a look to make sure Isabella was fast asleep, Caprice decided to wander down to the cafeteria and scrounge a cup of coffee. There was always a pot brewing, and while a good jolt of caffeine wasn’t what she needed to calm her nerves, just sitting and relaxing might help. So she let Josefina, Isabella’s caregiver, know where she was going before she trotted off to the cafeteria. Josefina—she counted her blessings for that woman! She was a smart, sharp-tongued, outspoken, grandmotherly woman who truly loved Isabella. Caprice had known her since the first time she’d come to Costa Rica, nearly five years ago, and counted her as a dear friend. In fact, Caprice trusted her with Isabella as much as she trusted her own mother. If not for Josefina’s devotion, these long trips wouldn’t have been possible as Caprice would not have left her daughter home in California for more than a week or two. Not even with her own mother. Yes, the woman was truly a godsend, she thought as she closed the door behind her and scurried down the hall.

The cafeteria was dim inside when she got there, with only the minimum of lighting turned on. And so quiet that the faint electrical hum of the vending machines and refrigerator seemed almost an intrusion. A very nice mood here for the middle-of-the-night coffee craving, she thought as she found the coffee-pot, poured herself a cup, and took a seat at the table in the corner. It was obscured from almost everything else in the room by the vending machines, and she was glad to tuck herself away to be alone for this little while. She rarely got to do that, rarely got to have time to herself.

Sighing, she took her first sip of coffee, then settled back into the hard-backed metal chair and stared up at the green light from the coin return on the candy-bar machine reflecting off the ceiling. On the other side of the room, voices entering whispered in muffled tones, apparently in respect for the quiet atmosphere there.

Ten minutes. That’s all she would allow herself, then she’d return to Isabella, and try to get some sleep, too. Or else she’d be all baggy-eyed and sluggish come morning.

“You really do like doing this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice coming out of nowhere.

Caprice startled. “I didn’t see you,” she gasped, immediately bolting upright.

“I saw you,” Adrian said, taking a seat next to her. Without invitation. “You’re wound up pretty tightly for a woman who has a large medical operation ready to start in the morning.”

“I’m always like this the night before. There’s so much to do, and I’m afraid I’ll overlook something, or miss someone who needs to be seen. A lot of people depend on our trips down here, and…” Why was she telling him all this? It seemed that she was always babbling on around him. He had that kind of effect on her. Wary, yet babbling away. Odd mix.

“Somehow I don’t see you overlooking anything. My guess is that you’re obsessive over detail.”

“Not obsessive. Just careful.” Maybe a little obsessive, but she wasn’t going to babble on about that, too.

He chuckled. “There’s a fine line, and you’re over it, Dr Bonaventura. You couldn’t do otherwise.”

“What makes you think you know me so well?” she snapped, that strange response to him clicking on with a slight chill wiggling up her spine.

“Takes one look. Over-protective mother, a doctor passionate to her cause. How could you not be obsessive?”

“Protective,” she corrected. “Not over-protective.”

He chuckled again, then took a sip of his own coffee. “Your eyes practically popped out of their sockets when Isabella took to me. Oh, you were polite about it. But you were bothered. Admit it.”

“You’re a stranger. I’ve taught her never to talk to strangers.”

“It’s hard for children to make the distinction between strangers and friends when the person they trust most in the world introduces that stranger into their life. Child trusts parent, therefore child trusts parent’s judgment. You brought me into Isabella’s life and she trusted that.”

He surprised her, sounding so insightful in matters to do with children. Of course, his own medical practice was devoted to children, so that was probably the reason. He worked with them every day. “Are you to be trusted, Dr McCallan?”

“Depends, I suppose.”

“On what?”

“To what aspects of my life are you referring? Medically, as a doctor, I’m absolutely to be trusted. Personally, as a friend, I’ve never had anyone say I’m not trustworthy.”

“But as a man?” she asked, immediately regretting it. That had just slipped out. Some of her true sentiments shining through, the ones she never, ever let loose around any aspect of her professional life.

“I’d say that’s pretty revealing,” he answered. “A mother alone in the Costa Rican jungle with her daughter. No wedding ring on her finger. Very distrustful of men. I’d say those are all signs of a relationship ending very badly.”

“And I’d say those are personal things I don’t discuss.”

“But didn’t you open the door to that conversation by asking me if I’m trustworthy as a man? That seems like personal conversation to me, and if you’re allowed to indulge in it, in all fairness, I should be given the same consideration.” He sat his cup down on the table and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “And the answer to your question is yes. As a man, I can be trusted. So now it’s your turn. You owe me one. Did the relationship end badly?”

She glared across at him, and even though the room was dim, she could see the intense look on his face. He was serious. He really did expect an answer. “Why do you want to know?” she asked.

“Because I like to know with whom I’m dealing. My reading on you before I came here didn’t reveal much. Mostly academic credits, medical accomplishments. Certainly nothing about Caprice the person. By design, I’m sure.”

“And why would knowing more about Caprice the person benefit you?”

“I’m not answering any more of your questions until you answer mine. In this world, you always have to give a little something to get something.”

Caprice huffed out an impatient sigh. Her time was up. She needed to get back to Isabella. “In this world, sometimes it’s nice to give something without expecting anything in return for it.” With that, she stood, then looked down at him. “And in answer to your question, yes. It ended badly. As badly as a marriage could possibly end.” Then she left him sitting there.

When she got out into the hall she slumped against the wall, thinking about putting her burning cheeks up against the cool cement blocks to stop the heat. Instead, though, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and fairly ran to her room before anyone had a chance to see how badly she was blushing. And shaking. And going wobbly in the knees.

From the end of that same hallway Adrian stood in the cafeteria doorway, watching Caprice make her hasty retreat. When she finally disappeared through her door, he returned to the public telephone to make yet another try at a call home.