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Her flip-flop dropped from her foot. He wouldn’t have noticed the action except for the sparkle of rhinestones. Yet another contradiction to his first impression of her. Miss All Business, Give Me the Facts had a quirky side. Interesting.
Stabbing her big toe into the half dirt, half dried-up grass, she pushed backward in the hammock.
“Raja’s resting well,” Court said into the quiet night.
“Good.”
Her almost non-existent answer screamed of her distress.
“You know …” she pushed the hammock back and swung forward again “… women in this land are the family workhorses, carrying water for long distances, gathering food and building homes.”
Court spied a wooden chair beside a tree. He sat, arms resting on his knees, content to listen while she talked. Her voice had a pleasant, lyrical quality that soothed.
Maggie sighed. “A woman without a leg is dependent on the village to keep her alive. Her husband will put her out. She’s no use to him.”
She sobbed softly, her empathy for the woman almost a personal pain. Something in the sound of her sorrow suggested the grief went deep. Had someone done something similar to her?
The desire to wrap Maggie in his arms surprised him. The emotion was so foreign that he hardly recognized it for what it was. The tug was so strong he gripped the edge of the chair.
“I came here to help.” Her words were a murmur crossing the hot still air. “To make a difference. But I don’t see it happening. I told Raja what to do. Showed her how to bandage it …”
She raised her eyes to the starry heavens. “I appreciate you taking care of her.”
“You’re welcome.” He’d not felt so inadequate since that horrible night he’d failed his small patient. His jaw tightened. Caring wasn’t a feeling he would make a habit. He’d been running from his emotions since his brother had died and now he’d come smack up against them again. Heaven help him, for some reason this woman managed to pull them out of him.
She pushed into a slow swing. “So what did you think about clinic today?”
He sat up in the chair. “I’m more than impressed by the number of people seen and the vast array of medical issues needing treatment.”
Maggie dug her toe into the ground, bringing the hammock to a halt. She gave him a look he was confident would make a weaker person squirm and give up information.
“So, now you think we could use the grant?”
He put up his hand. “Ho, there. I didn’t say that. There’re many hospitals and programs needing money, a number closer to home. What I will say is I’ve been impressed with how efficiently the hospital runs with so few obvious resources.”
“Well, at least that’s something. Hopefully we’ll continue to impress you with our service, and you’ll see our need.” She scooted to the edge of the hammock.
The movement captured his attention, her hips shifting first one way then the other as she wiggled to the edge, supporting herself by holding on to the side. Not for the first time he longed to see her legs. What was the old saying? “Leave them wanting more?” Maggie had definitely perfected that objective.
She slipped her feet into the flip-flops. “It’s late.” She made an attempt to stand but fell into the hammock as it swung backward.
Court offered his hand. “Let me help you.” Her low-trilled laugh of embarrassment vibrated through him like a bow moving across the string of a bass violin.
Her hand hovered over his palm. For a second he feared she’d refuse his help. When her fingers touched his, the bolt of satisfaction stunned him.
Using him for leverage, Maggie pulled herself to her feet. She stood so close he could make out the faint wildflower smell of her shampoo. It was the most surprising thing he’d encountered in this arid land. It stood out in the surroundings like Maggie did.
What was her story? She seemed full of contradictions.
Maggie slid her hand from his, leaving him with a sense of loss. Gathering up her skirt in a hand so it no longer flowed around her legs, she headed toward their bungalows.
“I’ve been meaning to ask why the female staff wears long skirts in this heat.” He stepped over a protruding root.
She grinned over her shoulder.
The first real one he’d seen since he’d arrived.
“Wearing a skirt is cooler and more functional than you’ll ever believe. You should try one. Local men wear them all the time.”
He chuckled. “No, thanks, I’ll stick with scrubs and cargo pants.”
“The real reason we wear them …” she did an about-face and looked him straight in the eye “… is because the Mamprusi men find female thighs sexy. In America, breasts seem to be the thing, here it’s thighs.”
Court agreed with the Mamprusi.
She’d delivered the teasing bit of information like she gave a report during medical rounds. The upward curve to her lips and the slight shake of her shoulders said she wanted to laugh. “Do you have any other questions, Doctor?”
“No-o-o, I think that about sums it up.”
She giggled. A sense of rightness filled him—something he’d not felt in a long time.
They reached the spot in the path where they’d separate to go to their respective bungalows.
He touched her arm briefly to get her attention. “Hey, would you give me a crash course in Manprusi? It would sure make treating the patients easier if I learned a few basic words. Help put them at ease.”
“I guess so.” She turned, starting down the path.
In a couple of strides he caught up with her. “How about tomorrow afternoon? I understand the clinic’s closed,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d show me around the village, maybe give me a lesson then. I’d like to know more about the people. I don’t think the wild ride yesterday counted as a true visit.”
She took longer than he would have liked to answer. “I guess so. I planned to get some fruit and other items at the market anyway.”
“Aw, thanks for having compassion for the new guy in town.”
That brought a slight curve to her lips. Court watched as she walked to her door a few steps away, rubbing the spot he’d touched.
Maggie had been a little surprised when Court hadn’t balked at walking into the village when she’d suggested it. He acted like he made casual outings to a village regularly. While they moved along the crowded dusty road, she appreciated him matching his long-legged pace to her shorter one.
He hadn’t struck her as someone who routinely took time for a stroll but she couldn’t miss a chance to have him see up close how the locals lived and why they needed the Armstrong Foundation’s help. Convincing him to use his influence to give the hospital the funds they required was her primary objective. Otherwise she would’ve turned him down flat when he’d asked her to show him around. Something about having him close made her think she wouldn’t be enjoying a few relaxing hours. Court set her nerves tingling.
Court impressed her with his thoughtful and intelligent questions about the traditions and culture. Between his quizzing and her lectures on the area, they practiced simple words like “hello”, “pain”, “where”, “how long” in Mamprusi. He was a quick study, which by this time didn’t surprise her. He had a real aptitude for the difficult language. It wasn’t long before she expanded to using phases.
Maggie glanced inside the doorways of the simple square, dirt-brick buildings facing each other creating a wide main road. She pointed to one group. “These are the well-to-do businesses. Most of the locals live humbly, working daily just to stay alive.”
He seemed genuinely interested in the country’s history and the people. The closer they drew to the market, the more the number of people surrounding them increased. The sounds of bargaining filled the air, joining the ripe smell of fruit. “Stay close, I don’t want to lose you,” she said, turning a corner into a large open area filled with stalls. Colorful fruit, vegetables and a variety of meats were spread out in the open air on blankets with thin men squatting on their haunches beside their goods.
“You don’t think a tall, white man dressed in American clothing is going to stand out?”
With his piercing blue eyes, firm jaw and broad shoulders he’d stand out on the streets of New York City. The man was eye candy. “You have a point. Is there anything you’d like to look for while we’re here?”
“No, but I would like to practice what I’ve learnt when I can. I’ll just stick by your side.”
She wasn’t sure why the statement rattled her so much. “I’m not sure Where does it hurt? or Bandage it this way is going to work here.”
“I was thinking, Hello, goodbye, how are you? might, though.”
She stopped often as they made their way up and down the rows of vendors. She always gave Court a chance to speak to the merchant first. After he had done so, he seemed content to wait and listen from nearby. She couldn’t see those crystal-blue eyes for his sunglasses, but by the tilt of his head he watched what was happening intently.
The crowd thinned at one point and Court stepped beside her. “So, tell me how you came to work at the hospital?”
She bent to pick up a bunch of bananas, said a couple of words to the toothless man then handed him a coin and waited while Court said thank you. “I was working in a hospital ER. One of the traveling nurses told me about the Teligu Hospital and I was intrigued. I needed to make a change and decided to look into coming here.”
They moved on to the next vendor.
“Did you always want to work in a developing country?”
A house with children’s toys in the yard and a minivan in the drive flashed into her mind. “Not exactly.” The words were said slowly. “I’ve always wanted to be a nurse, though.”
He picked up a piece of corn still in its husk from the pile she studied.
“Mealie.” Maggie supplied the word.
Court repeated the word. “I wish they were all that easy.” Putting the ear back in the pile again, he asked, “Not exactly? What does that mean?”
“Little nosy, aren’t you?” She focused on the vegetables on the ground before her.
“Little touchy, aren’t you?”
Concentrating on the produce, she tried not to let the hurt show in her eyes. “We all have dreams that don’t work out, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
Maggie glanced at him. The simple word hid more than he let on. Did the aggravating doctor have a secret?
“What’s all this for?” He pointed toward the growing amount of food items stuffed into a woven basket she’d brought along.
Relieved at his change of subject, she said, “Supplies for a meal.”
“You cook?”
She put a hand on her hip. “Yes, I cook.” She mustered as much indignation as she could but tempered the words with a smile.
“I didn’t mean to imply …”
“I know what you were implying.”
“What I meant was where do you cook?”
“I use the mess hall kitchen on Sunday afternoons. I wish I could use it more often.”
“I’m a pretty fair cook myself.”
Maggie looked sideways at him in disbelief.
“I am. I learned to make meals on a one-eyed hot plate during medical school. I found cooking an excellent way to release stress after a long day.”
With his family background he’d done his own cooking? She would have thought he’d have his own personal chef.
“So who eats these meals you prepare?” Court asked.
She looked at him. “Fishing for an invitation?”
“Could be. I haven’t been here long but I already know your cooking has to be better than the usual fare in the mess hall. I’d be willing to assist. I could be your sous chef to earn one?” His grin seemed forced as if he’d not spontaneously shared one in a long time.
Maggie’s stomach tightened, flipped and righted in one motion. On Court the grin had been the sexiest she’d ever seen. If he did that and let those incredible eyes come out to play more often, getting an invite would be a sure thing. With a mental shake of her head she said, “We’ll see.”
Court asked to make her next purchase so he could practice his newfound skill. He did look at her once when the man spoke too fast. As they started back toward the hospital, the crowd thickened again. She’d just suggested they take a longer return route when a commotion drew her attention.
“Missy Maggie, Missy Maggie.” Neetie’s high-pitched voice filled the air. He rushed at her, wrapping his arms around her legs. Neetie’s forward movement propelled her backward. She stumbled and would’ve been flat on her back if it hadn’t been for the strong arm circling her waist.
“Ho, I’ve got you.” Court’s breath fluttered warmly against her ear.
The heat of his broad chest against her back reminded her of how long it had been since she’d been held by a man. She’d missed the contact.
Neetie circled to her side and pushed against the back of her legs until he squeezed between her and Court, squealing the entire time, “Help, Missy Maggie, help.”
The crowd gave way to a man swinging his hand above his head and shouting. Maggie could understand little of what was being said but she did hear the word take.
Court stepped in front of her and assumed a formidable stance. “Stay behind me.”
Maggie considered disagreeing with his directive but didn’t believe she could take on both Court and the angry man at the same time. Instead, she remained behind and to the side of Court, close enough that she felt him tense as the man approached.
Neetie worked himself between them, half hiding behind her and continuing to chatter. She looked down at the child and said, “Hush, Neetie.” He quieted but his eyes remained huge white circles in his dark face.
“Maggie, ask him to stop there, but do not move from behind me, understand?”
She did as instructed, bringing the irate man bearing down on them to a halt.
“Ask him what the problem is,” Court said in a tone that had the man looking at him instead of her.
She translated.
“Neetie stole.” She looked around Court and Neetie peeped around her legs.
Digging into his pocket, Court brought out a couple of coins and handed them to the man. He used his newfound words of Thank you and Goodbye and the man left.
Court turned, which brought his mouth to within inches of hers. Her breath caught and held for a moment. He had nice full lips. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. His eyes darkened.
Neetie pushed against their legs, disrupting the moment.
