Читать книгу The Last Temptation of Dr. Dalton - Robin Gianna - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

THE LITTLE BOY looked like a ghost. Literally. He’d been covered head to toe in white paint. In all Trent’s years of seeing crazy and unusual things around the world, he’d never seen this.

Charlotte covered a small smile with her fingertips, and he could tell she wanted to laugh at whatever the hell his expression was. Could he help it if it startled him to see the little guy looking like that?

“It’s a common home remedy here for malaria. The sick person is painted white as part of the cure.”

“Ah.” Trent schooled his features into normal professionalism and turned back to the boy. He touched his knuckles to the sleeping child’s cheeks, then pressed the child’s throat, both of which were hot and sweaty. The boy barely opened his eyes to stare at him before becoming wracked by a prolonged, dry cough. When the cough finally died down, Trent leaned close to him with a smile he hoped would reassure him. “Hi, Prince. I’m Dr Dalton. How do you feel? Anything hurting?”

Prince didn’t answer, just slid his gaze towards his sister. She knelt down next to him and touched her hand to the boy’s thin shoulder. “It’s okay, Prince. Dr Dalton is here to help you get better.”

“Have you had belly pain or diarrhea?” The boy still just stared at him, looking scared, as though Trent was the one who looked like a ghost. Maybe the child was delirious. “Anna, do you know about any belly pain? Has he been confused or acting strange?”

She nodded. “He did complain about his tummy hurting. And he has been saying silly things. I think he seems the same as when I had the malaria—shaking and feeling very hot and cold.”

“Trent, how about I drive back to the compound and get the malaria medicine?” Even through the low light, he could see the green of Charlotte’s eyes focused intently on his. “I’ll bring it back here; maybe we won’t have to scare him by taking him to the hospital.”

He shook his head, not at all sure this was malaria. “If he has belly pain, it might be typhoid, which requires a different kind of antibiotic. Hard to tell with a child who’s sick and obtunded like he is. The only way to know for sure is if we take him back to the hospital and get a blood test—see if it shows the parasites or not.”

“No hospital.” The older woman’s lips thinned. “If de boy go, he will never come back.”

Obviously, the poor woman had lost someone she loved. “I’ll watch over him myself,” Trent said. “I promise to keep him safe.”

“Mama Grand, no boys are kidnapped any more. For true. The war is over a long time now.”

Damn, so that was what she was worried about. He could barely fathom that boys this young had been kidnapped to be soldiers, but knew it had happened so often that some parents sent their children out of the country to be safe, never to see them again.

He stood and reached for the woman’s rough and gnarled hand. “I understand your worries. But it’s important that Prince have a test done that we can only do at the hospital. I promise you that I will care for Prince and look after him like I would if he were my own child, and return him to you when he’s well. Will you trust me to do that?”

The suspicious look didn’t completely leave the woman’s face, but she finally nodded. Trent didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind and quickly gathered Prince in his arms, wrapping the blanket around him as best he could.

“You want to come with us, Anna? You don’t have to, but it might make Prince feel more comfortable,” Charlotte said.

“Yes. I will come.”

“Are you going to hold Prince so I can drive, or do you want to take the wheel?” he asked Charlotte as they approached the car.

“You know the answer to that.” Her gorgeous eyes glinted at him. “You’re in the passenger seat, Dr. Dalton.”

He had to grin. “You really should address this little controlling streak of yours, Ms. Edwards. Find out why relinquishing power scares you so much.”

“It doesn’t scare me. I just trust my own driving over anyone else’s.”

“Mm-hm. One of these days, trying to control the direction the world spins is going to weigh heavy on those pretty shoulders of yours. Drive on, boss lady.”

* * *

Tests proved that Prince did indeed have typhoid, and after a couple days he’d recovered enough to return home. Charlie was glad that Trent’s expertise had led him to insist the child be tested, instead of just assuming it was malaria, as she had.

She was also glad that, in the days that had passed since Trent had come back, she’d managed to stop thinking about him for hours at a time. Well, maybe not hours. Occasionally, the man sneaked into her thoughts. Not her fault, since she wasn’t deaf and blind—okay, a little hard of hearing in that one ear of hers she was grateful to have it at all.

His voice, teasing and joking with the nurses and techs, sometimes drifted down the hall to her office. His distinctively tall form would occasionally stride in front of her office on his way from the clinic to the hospital ward until she decided just to shut the darn door.

She’d made a conscious effort to stay away from the hospital ward where she might run into him. She got dinner alone at home, or ate lunch at her desk so she wouldn’t end up sitting with him in the kitchen. She spent time at the school instead of here, where thoughts of him kept invading her brain, knowing he was somewhere nearby.

It helped that Trent had kept their few interactions since the brief kiss in the rain short and professional. When the man said goodbye, he sure meant it, never mind that she felt the same way. Thank heavens he’d be leaving again in the next few days so she wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of thinking about all they’d done in their single night together.

Her door opened and her heart gave an irritating little kick of anticipation that it just might be his blue eyes she’d see when she looked up.

But it was John Adams standing there. “Any word yet on the funding for another teacher?”

She smiled and waved a paper. “Got the green light. I’m sending the final forms today, and they said we should get a check in about a month. Is the woman you’ve been training going to work out?”

“Yes, most definitely.” He dramatically slapped a hand to his barrel chest. “She is smart and beautiful and I am in love with her. Thanks to God I can officially offer her a job.”

“You’re starting to remind me of ladies’ man Dr Dalton. No mixing business with pleasure.” A flush filled her cheeks as soon as the words were out of her mouth, since she’d done exactly that, and the pleasure had been all too spectacular.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “Anyway, I also stopped to tell you to come look at our little patient this morning.”

“What little patient?”

“Lionel. The one with appendicitis and the hemangioma—or who used to have a hemangioma. You won’t believe what Trent’s done with it.”

Alarm made Charlie’s heart jerk in her chest. She’d worried from the moment she’d agreed to let Trent take care of such a delicate procedure. Had he messed it up? She’d checked on the child a couple of times, but a patch had still covered his eye. “What do you mean? Is it going to have to be redone when we get a plastic surgeon in here?”