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“Let’s get out of this crowd,” Court said.
Maggie moved the basket up on her arm and took Neetie’s hand, and Court clasped her other one. She tried to pull it away but Court held it securely.
“For heaven’s sake, Maggie, I just don’t want us to get separated in this mob.”
All of a sudden she felt silly and accepted the touch of her hand in his. It was no longer necessary for Court to protect her but it still felt nice to have someone look after her for a change.
Reaching the road back to the hospital, Court led them off to the side until they found the shade of a tree. He released her hand and looked down at Neetie.
The boy’s eyes widened with fear, and he hopped from side to side.
“Someone should take this child in hand. The boy needs to know he can’t steal.”
Maggie couldn’t disagree and she hoped to be the one receiving responsibility for Neetie soon. She needed to get Neetie’s village chief to agree. Would the chief and the village accept her as Neetie’s mother? She’d promise to see that Neetie’s culture was part of his life. She gave the boy an encouraging smile. Even if she couldn’t have a child of her own, her drive to protect remained strong. The pain that had ebbed to a dulled ache over the years sharpened again.
“I’ll handle this.” She went down on her knees to be at his eye level. “Neetie, what you did was wrong. You should never take what isn’t yours.”
“But I wanted—”
“That doesn’t matter. Court paid for what you took but you’ll have to repay him by working it off. I want you to sweep out his bungalow and take out the trash until you have paid him back.”
The boy’s eyes remained large as he glanced up at Court but he nodded his agreement.
From above her Court said, “Another thing, I want you to be careful about grabbing Missy Maggie. You could’ve knocked her down. Hurt her. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you?”
Neetie gave an earnest negative shake of his head, but still looked terrified. Couldn’t Court tell he was scaring the boy? Where had the congenial guy gone who had been with her before Neetie had shown up?
“I’m sorry, Missy Maggie.”
She opened her arms and Neetie stepped into them. After giving him a tight hug, she stood and turned to Court. “Thanks for your help back there. I don’t know if I could have handled the situation without you.”
“I’ve no doubt you could have.” His look met hers. “Maybe I earned that meal after all.”
Court had been called in early the next morning to help with an emergency and had been assisting in surgery ever since. He’d had to hustle to get a bite of lunch before going back. He’d not seen Maggie all day. It bothered him not to know where she was and what she was doing. Calling it curiosity and unable to stand it any longer, he’d asked and been told it was her day off.
Bottom line, he missed her. A foreign concept for him. He never let someone interest him enough to miss them. That’s what most of his lady friends complained about—he never really cared. He couldn’t.
Shaking his head in an effort to remove the idea, Court returned to seeing patients and worked late into the afternoon. He was on his way back to the bungalow when he saw Neetie running up the path. Court couldn’t help but be captured by the bundle of energy the young boy presented with his arms flying and sticklike legs pumping. Neetie made him think of the childhood question, “Is that you or are you riding a chicken?”
He sobered. He’d asked Neetie on their return to the hospital from the village how old he was. Neetie had said eight. The age Court had been when his brother had died. The same age that made his heart catch when he cared for a patient. He’d become a pediatrician because of his brother and wanting to help others like him, but in many ways it had been difficult. Especially when his actions caused a child to be disabled. The burden of failure weighed on him like a sack of heavy rocks he never put down.
Neetie slid to a stop out of arm’s reach, and looked up at Court with uncertain eyes.
A stab of regret cut through Court. Had he intimidated the boy so much yesterday that he was afraid of him? Court had never meant the boy to fear him.
Neetie pointed down the path from the direction he’d come. “Missy Maggie, help.”
Court’s heart jerked in his chest and he went down on one knee, meeting the boy at eye level. “What’s wrong with Missy Maggie?” The amount of worry those words held surprised Court. When had Maggie started becoming significant enough for him to feel any anxiety over her?
“She in …” Neetie seem to search for the word. He said something in Mamprusi.
“Box?” Court translated.
Neetie gave a vigorous nod and pointed toward the back of the compound.
“A box? What box? Show me.”
Neetie scampered down the winding path, and Court followed him at a lope. They went past the bungalows, around a small group of trees and came to what looked like an outdoor storage area. Sitting on the ground were two large metal overseas shipping containers. Neetie pointed into the container with the huge doors flung open. Court looked inside the dark cavern and found the box partially full.
Squinting, he waited while his eyes adjusted from the bright light of the outside to the almost pitch dark inside. He could make out aqua fifty-five gallon plastic drums. They were stacked two high, the top of the second one well above his head. Some of the drums had fallen and were lying at odd angles.
Panic surged through him. Maggie could be seriously hurt. Court stepped into the container. “Maggie?”
“I’m back here.”
Relief washed over him, to be replaced by flaming anger. What if he hadn’t gotten here in time? What if she’d been too hurt to cry out for help? “Where?” His fear made the word sharp. With a tight chest he took a deep breath and let it out in the hope of slowing his pulse and holding off his irritation at her for being so reckless.
“Straight back.”
He turned to Neetie. “You stay here.” Court pointed to the ground outside the container, making sure his instructions were clear. Neetie nodded. Court refused to allow another person be injured because he’d failed them. He needed to know that the boy was safe.
With a grunt Court righted a fallen drum. It was heavier than he’d anticipated. What in the world was Maggie doing in here by herself? When he got to her he was tempted to put her over his knee like he would have a disobedient child for scaring him. He continued to move barrels to the side, creating a narrow aisle. “Are you hurt?”
An exasperated sigh came from a few feet in front of him. “Not really.”
What the hell did “Not really” mean? “Are you bleeding anywhere?”
“No. Mostly it’s my pride that’s hurt.” Her voice became clearer as he worked his way closer. “I saw a drum marked ‘Bandages’ up on the top. I knew better than to climb up there and rock it but I did it anyway. I didn’t want to take the time to walk all the way to the hospital to get help.”
“Yeah, don’t do the smart thing. As always, handle it yourself,” Court mumbled, while he pushed at another drum with more force than necessary. She was the one everyone turned to for help at the hospital. Amazingly, she always gave it willingly.
“After the first one went they all started falling like dominos. One of the metal clips holding the top closed caught my clothes, and I went down with the barrels.”
Her chatter told him that she was more afraid than she’d first let on. Good, she should be. Maybe she’d learned a lesson. He’d reached the deepest part of the fifty-foot box that doubled as a furnace in the late-evening sun. Visibility was dismal at best but he could just make out the top of Maggie’s head. He uttered a curse under his breath when he thought of what could have happened. If he’d not seen Neetie …
Court righted the barrels and pushed them to the side, squeezing past them.
Maggie was trapped, half under a barrel. The fury he thought he had under control snapped. “Why’re you out here by yourself?” His words cut as sharply as a scalpel. “You should know better.”
With a glare, she said, “I do this all the time. It’s no big deal. I was doing it before you showed up, and I’ll be doing it when you’re gone,” she snapped.
She had him there. He had no business telling her what she should and shouldn’t do. But he still couldn’t get the gut-wrenching feeling of what could’ve happened to her out of his mind. He wiped away the sweat beading heavily on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It had to be over a hundred and ten. “How long have you been in here?”
“All together?”
“Yeah, all together.” The sarcasm snapped as bluntly as a dry twig. Yet his professional side kicked in. He needed to keep her talking until he could reach her, so she wouldn’t be afraid. She could be seriously injured and, if nothing else, she had to be dehydrated.
“I started working after lunch. A couple of the men were helping me but they got called away.”
“How long have you been pinned here?” He enunciated each word as he continued to shift barrels.
“Oh, maybe fifteen minutes.”
The temptation to shake her built within him. That fist-size ball of fear he always carried in his gut grew. She sounded so calm about it. It was a wonder she’d not passed out.
Court mumbled a word Neetie didn’t need to learn until he was much older. “Maggie, you could’ve …” He stopped himself from saying more. Getting irate and making her the same wasn’t going to help matters. Now was the time to use the cool he’d been so famous for when he’d practiced medicine. He called out the door, “Neetie, go to my bungalow. Get a jug of water and my med bag. It is by the door. Run.”
Nettie’s rapid prattle of response reached Court’s ears. Good, Maggie would need the water when he got her out of here.
Struggling with the bulk of a drum, it made a thump when it rocked on its end. He could see her well now. She sat on the floor of the container, with a drum over her legs, and thankfully one drum supported another so not all the weight rested on Maggie. Her back rested against another barrel.
She looked up at him and with a lift to her chin said, “Of all the places, in all the hospitals, in all the world …”
“Funny, Maggie, real funny.” His lips pulled into a tight line in his desire to stop himself from throttling her. Concern still knotted in his stomach for the risk she’d taken. Outside her being another human and him being a doctor, he couldn’t understand way Maggie being injured would matter so much. But it did. “You could’ve been really hurt.”
Court didn’t wait for an answer. He considered the drums above them. They looked steady in their places. “Can you hold that one away from you while I pull this one off?”
“Yes.”
“On three. One, two, three.” Court lifted the barrel, while supporting it with the edge of his foot to prevent it from sliding and falling back onto Maggie. With the drum on its end, he steadied it and moved it out of the way.
Her skirt had bunched up toward her waist, leaving a vast amount of leg exposed and a hint of bright red panties between. As he’d suspected, Maggie had fine legs. Superiorly fine ones.
She swiftly tugged the material down, making herself decent but not totally covering her thighs, before attempting to struggle to her feet. Court reached out to help her. She appeared unhurt but when she put her right foot down, she slumped into him.
“Ooh.”
His arm circled her waist, supporting her. “So you did hurt yourself.”
“Don’t sound so self-satisfied, Doctor. My ankle got caught between two of the drums on the way down, and I pulled it out. It’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“I’ll have a look at it after we get you out of here.”
Court led her through the maze of barrels, assisting the best he could, though they both had to squeeze past drums in some spots. Reaching the open area, he swung Maggie into his arms.
“What’re you doing?” she squeaked and shifted against him. “Put me down.”
Tightening his hold, he said, “Carrying you.” Her body was too hot against him. He had to get her in the shade.
“I can walk.”
“Yeah, I saw how well you stood back there. You hang on for a minute, and I’ll put you down when we get out of this third circle of hell.”
Court felt Maggie’s soft laugh against his chest before he heard it. If he hadn’t already been burning up he might have heated more in response to her mirth surrounding him like the sweet smell of spring. He wanted it to last.
He blinked a couple of times before his eyes became accustomed to the brightness of the outside. He found the nearest tree and headed for it, placing Maggie on the ground underneath it. She pushed at the damp curls that had escaped to fall around her face. “I need to fix my hair.”
“Leave it be. It looks fine.” Kneeling beside her, Court removed her thong from her foot.
“Hey, what’re you doing?”
“I’m getting ready to examine you.” He lifted her leg and she made a frantic movement to push her skirt down from where it had slid up her leg. “You do realize I have seen a woman’s leg before?”
“Yes, I imagine you’ve seen many.”
If he weren’t so worried she might be injured, he would’ve enjoyed the feel of her skin beneath his hand. Running his fingers over the delicate bones of her ankle and halfway up her calf, he found nothing broken.
She jerked her leg from his hand. “I appreciate your concern but I’m fine.” She rotated her ankle a couple of times, before she reached down and rubbed it gently.
Amused at the flustered way she acted, he said, “Seems so.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of me, Doc?”
He sat down beside her. He’d learned that when she was ruffled or wanted to put him in his place she used his title instead of his name. “Maybe just a little bit, Nurse. Neetie should be here in a minute with some water, then we’ll get you to your bungalow.”
“I still have work to do here.”
“You’re done for the day. Doctor’s orders.”
“But we need the bandages for clinic tomorrow.”
Stubborn woman. “You do know you got off easily. You could’ve been crushed.” He wasn’t going to let her go back into the container tonight or any other day by herself ever again. She wouldn’t appreciate it but he planned to speak to Dr. Roberts about what had happened. “I’m already tempted to shake you, so don’t push me any further.”
“Aren’t you overreacting a little bit, Doctor?”
Maybe he was, but for a gut-twisting moment while in that box he’d felt that out of control, numbing fear he’d swore never to experience again. He gave her his best pointed look, which had sent many a nurse running, hoping to make it clear he would hold to his threat. Needing to get her mind on something else before they fought, he said, “What’s in all these drums anyway?”
“Bandages. Some medical supplies. The envelopes we use to dispense medicine.”
“Really?” He wondered about the simple supplies he’d seen used but hadn’t thought to ask. During clinic no one had the time to answer unrelated medical questions. “Where do they come from?”
“From the States mostly. Different groups strip old sheets and roll them. They’re what we use on the sores we see so many of. Churches send us unused offering envelopes to put meds in. A couple of ladies in Georgia ship us a container about every two years. It’s a big help to the hospital.”
“Interesting, and impressive. But why are you down here working on your day off?”
“Someone has to do it.” Before Court could comment, Neetie arrived with the water and his bag. Standing, Court took the jug, which was almost too large for the boy to handle, bent to one knee and held it to Maggie’s lips. She grasped it, guzzling the water. Court supported her back and the jug while she took a long swallow. She’d been more desperate for water than she’d let on. Did she ever complain?
“Slow and easy there. You don’t want to overdo it.”
Maggie nodded but kept drinking. Finally she’d taken her fill and released the jug. Court offered her a couple pills for pain.
“I don’t need those.”
“Take them anyway.”
She removed the medicine from his hand. In her haste to take them, water ran down her chin and across her chest to wet her thin white shirt. Court could make out the valley between Maggie’s breasts and the lacy outline of her bra.
The second she realized the direction his gaze had taken she gave a little yelp, put the jug on the ground and covered herself with her arms.
