by Dianne Drake
“I’ve warned him about that, but he never seems to think his need is greater than someone else’s. Last time he had boot money, he spent it on some wood and nails to build a ramp for one of the older women here. She was having difficulty getting up her steps. Time before that, I think it was to help someone start a sugarcane crop. That’s what my son does. Puts almost everyone ahead of himself. But you know that, don’t you?”
“He’s told you about me?”
“Not in so many words. But because he chooses his few words about you carefully, I think you’re the one who impacted his life in ways I’d always hoped someone would.”
“In ways that wouldn’t let us be together. Not in the sense you and your wife were.”
“He always said you were ambitious, but ambitions are an odd thing, Layla. Everybody has them, of course. But they can change, and they can certainly be what you want to make of them. Arlo is just as ambitious as you are, and his ambitions are no less important than yours. He told me it was your ambitions that broke you up the first time. But it was about his ambitions as well. He just couldn’t see that at the time. I doubt any of us can when we’re as involved as the two of you were. And just keep in mind, ambitions are not objective. In fact, they’re quite the opposite. Subjective as hell. And that’s the end of my fatherly lecture. So, tell me, the bite...” He smiled, even though his face was beginning to bead with sweat. “Bugger was a red-necked keelback. They’re usually not aggressive, but I must have done something to make this one angry because it came at me before I had a chance to step away. Went right up to the top of my boot.”
“So, since I don’t know my snakes, you tell me: Are we in trouble here?”
“Somewhat,” Ward admitted.
“How long did this snake have hold of you? Was it less than one second? One to three seconds? Three to five? Ten? Sixty?”
“Probably thirty to forty. It wouldn’t let go.”
“Which means it had a lot of time to squeeze plenty of venom into your leg. And judging by the second set of marks, it bit you again.”
“Well, that little—”
“I don’t think getting yourself upset, causing your blood pressure to increase, is going to help you.”
“A bottle of whiskey would, though. If you happen to have one handy. Which you probably don’t since Arlo prefers wine. Something that came about in his time with you, I believe?”
“Well, now I know I had some kind of good influence on him.”
“You had your influence, Layla. Probably more than you know, or more than he’d ever tell you. Anyway, while I’ve treated snakebites before, this is my first time to be bitten, and as a patient I’m beginning to have some worries over the outcome of this thing. Especially now that a headache and nausea are setting in.”
“Well, we have a good stock of antivenin...”
“Not this, you don’t. Which may turn this into a sticky situation shortly.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know my snakes, and I especially know my antivenins. You don’t live most of your seventy years here and not know what’s crawling in the grass, and what’s available to counteract its poison.”
Now she was beginning to panic. Her patient was telling her about his prospects, not the other way around. And she didn’t like what she was hearing. There had to be a way—Arlo would know. He always knew. “I think I’m going to go find Arlo and see what he has to say,” she said, trying not to sound as alarmed as she was feeling.
“He’ll say the same thing I said. We’re in trouble here.”
She gave the man’s arm a squeeze. “If I can do a field amputation hanging upside down in a tree, this little snakebite should be a breeze.” Not that it was, or that she even believed her own words. “I’ll be right back.” She saw the woman who owned the hut, Naak, standing in the shadows, watching, then pointed to a chair across from Ward. “Can you ask her to stay with you?” Layla asked Ward.
He chuckled weakly. “And to think I only came to let Arlo be the first to know I’m getting married again. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Married?”
“If I survive this.” He lay back on the bed and shut his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to die in the next few minutes. I just proposed to her a couple of weeks ago and she’ll kill me if I die before we marry.” He chuckled weakly, then dropped off to sleep.
* * *
Layla ran so hard and fast through the village, stopping to inquire after Arlo every few seconds, she didn’t even remember arriving at Dusit’s home, which was where she was directed. But there she was, standing outside, trying to catch her breath so she could talk to Arlo.
“Layla?” he asked, stepping out, still holding the blood sugar monitor.
“It’s your dad,” she panted. “Snakebite. Red-necked something-back.”
“Damn,” he muttered, jamming the monitor into his pocket then dashing back inside to grab his bag. “How long ago?” he asked, running back outside and not even slowing when he passed her.
She ran to catch up with him. “Maybe twenty minutes.”
“Any symptoms showing yet?”
“A few. Nausea, headache, sweating. Exhaustion. Arlo, he said we don’t have the antivenin.”
“Nobody does. It’s manufactured in Japan and it’s in short supply because a red-necked keelback doesn’t usually bite. I’ve never had that antivenin because I’ve never had a patient bitten by one of those.” He stopped at the entrance to Naak’s hut, then shut his eyes. “They’re so docile children play with them.”
She stepped up to his side. “Well, this one wasn’t playing. He bit your dad twice and the envenomation took a long time. I think he’s pumped full of the poison. I didn’t ask him, but he said it was fatal. Is it?”
Rather than answering, Arlo looked down at Layla. “He might not have enough time left for us to get him what he needs. It’s only made in Japan, and you have to have quite a pull with the pharmaceutical company to get it. I’m thinking since Eric lives in Japan, he might have that pull.” He sucked in his breath then headed up the stairs. “Go out as far as you can until you get a signal. Then call him. It’s a long shot. But it’s all we have.” He tossed her his phone with Eric’s number in it.
“Arlo, your dad tried sucking out his own venom.”
“Hopefully, that will prolong his life.” Those were his last words before entering the hospital. And seconds later Layla was on her way to find a mobile signal. Wondering what anybody in circumstances like this would do if not for Arlo—and her. For the first time she felt connected. Maybe more connected than she ever had before. She mattered in this. She needed to be here. And it wasn’t she who needed the support. It was everybody out here. Everybody. And Arlo. Especially Arlo.
CHAPTER NINE
“HOW’S THE SNAKEBITE VICTIM?” Arlo asked, as he entered the clinic, fighting to remain calm when nothing inside him was.
“He’s seen better days,” Ward admitted, as Arlo reached his bedside and bent down to give his old man a hug.
“So, how did you get into this mess, Dad?”
“Wasn’t paying attention. Thinking happy thoughts, I suppose.”
He peeled back the sheet and looked at his dad’s leg. It wasn’t necrotic yet, but it wasn’t good. There was too much swelling, his dad was diaphoretic and having some trouble breathing. “Tell me, what were those happy thoughts?” he asked, as he hooked up an oxygen mask to the cannister he’d grabbed on his way over. “Anything I should know about before I put this thing on you and tell you not to talk?”
“Well, if I do come out of this somehow, I’m getting married.”
Arlo blinked hard at the news. “Seriously? Who? How’d you meet her?”
“She’s a nurse who works in the tourist clinic with me near Angkor Wat. I’ve been working around there quite a while now and—What can I say? She�
��s a great lady and I’m not dead yet—well, that remains to be seen, I suppose.”
“This isn’t going to kill you, Dad. Maybe make you suffer a bit, but...” He faked a smile as he pulled out a bottle of antiseptic to clean the wound. “Does she make you happy?” he asked, uncapping the bottle and pouring it over his dad’s leg.
“Does Layla make you happy?”
“Ah, the question that has no answer.” He placed the mask on his dad’s face and tightened the elastic straps for a tight fit.
“It has an answer, son. I saw it in her face as clearly as I see it in yours.” He reached up to wipe the sweat from his face, but his hands were too shaky. “So, what’s the plan here, son? Because if I were the doc in charge, I would be preparing the patient for the inevitable.”
“But you’re not the doc here, and the plan is Layla getting through to Eric who will ride in on his white horse all the way from Japan with the antivenin.” Such a long shot, but it was the only one he had unless someone, someplace else, had some antivenin. Which didn’t seem likely given its scarcity. “So, right now, you need to rest. The more active you are, the more the venom spreads.”
“Isn’t that something I taught you when you were, what? Seven or eight?” Finally, his eyes drooped shut and he took a deep breath that indicated sleep was already overtaking him.
“I was eight, Dad,” Arlo said, slapping at the tears streaking down his cheeks. “What you taught me when I was seven was how important the work here is.” He took hold of his dad’s hand and stayed there, sitting on the edge of the bed, until Layla finally came back almost two hours later. The first thing she did was rush to the bed, look down and sigh a sigh of relief when she discovered that Ward was only sleeping. The second thing she did was pull Arlo into her arms and simply hold him. “We’re going to get through this,” she whispered. “I promise. We’re going to get through this.”
He heard the words but had no response to them. All he knew was that he was grateful Layla was the one with him now, whichever way this went. He needed her. Only her.
* * *
“Eric’s going to grab a supply of the antivenin and fly down here. It’s going to be a long flight, Arlo. But he’s on his way.”
“It may be too late,” he said, not even trying to hide the discouragement in his voice.
“How long...?” She didn’t finish her question. How could she when what she wanted to know was how long Ward had to live? She didn’t know and didn’t want to ask. But she had to take charge here and leave Arlo time to simply be his father’s son.
“Ten to twelve hours. Maybe up to a day, depending on my dad’s sensitivity level.”
“Then Eric will get here in time.”
“Or it may take only an hour, then all of this is for nothing.”
“Not for nothing, Arlo,” she said, sitting in a chair opposite him, her hand on his knee while he still held his dad’s hand. “For your dad. Or for any patient in the same situation. You don’t quit. You never have. And you won’t now.”
“It’s so hard doing this alone. Doing the things I must do. Facing the things I must face. With my parents, they had each other to help them through. I have a civet cat, which says a lot, doesn’t it?”
Villagers were beginning to assemble outside, all of them knowing now that the patient was Doc Arlo’s dad. People were bringing food. Various drinks. Women were offering to clean the hospital. Several men were across the street, repairing Arlo’s leaking roof. It was an amazing sight, watching everybody come together the way they were. And not just because Arlo was their doctor. They loved him. He was part of them. Part of the heart and soul of everybody here. “Just look at them,” she said, as they were going into their third hour of waiting. “You’re not alone here, Arlo. Even Dusit is out there, toting a basket of sweets for you.”
He chuckled. “Of course, he would. Which means he’s going to need another test shortly, and probably a shot.”
“You take wonderful care of these people. In turn, they take wonderful care of you. And if you ask me, that’s an almost perfect way to run your medical practice, minus the hardships, of course.” She stood, then crossed over to the bed to check Ward’s vital signs. Currently, he wasn’t losing ground, and that’s the best they could hope for. “I could sit here, if you want to go grab some sleep.”
“I can’t sleep,” he said, standing, then stretching.
She heard his neck pop. “Can I fix that for you?” she asked, pointing him to her chair rather than the side of the bed.
He didn’t answer, but he did sit where she wanted him to, and positioned himself for the neck massage. And the instant she applied pressure with her fingers, he moaned. “Best hands I’ve ever experienced,” he said, relaxing into her touch. “You always knew when I needed it, too, didn’t you?”
“We might have been bad at some things, but I never ignored you, Arlo. In fact, there were nights I’d lie awake in bed simply to watch you sleep.”
“I knew that.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. And I liked knowing you were doing it, even though most of the time you weren’t sleeping. So, tell me. Why did you watch?”
“I loved the way that your hair would curl down over your forehead. And your neck—did I ever tell you that you have the sexiest neck I’ve ever seen on anybody? After you’d gone to sleep I loved nuzzling into your neck. Or were you even asleep?”
“Nope,” he said, finally fully relaxing. “Not all the time anyway. And I did enjoy the way you’d sort of sneak into me and position yourself so I could feel you pressed to my neck. Sometimes you’d kiss me there. Just a light one. Trying not to wake me up, I suppose.”
“So, whatever happened to that couple?”
“One went to Thailand, and one didn’t. That’s the way we started our relationship, and the way we finished it. We both knew what would happen from the beginning, but I think we—or, at least, I—got sidetracked somewhere along the way.
“Did you ever think I might stay with you, Layla?”
“Not think as much as hope.”
“But you never asked. Never said a word about it.”
“Because we couldn’t get past it, Arlo. Not then. And I didn’t want to keep on hurting over it so no, I never asked, because I didn’t want to be rejected. Especially by the only man I’d ever loved.”
“Was I?” he asked.
“You still are. Nothing about that has ever changed.” Layla sniffed back tears as she moved her massage more toward the side of his neck. “But nothing about us has ever changed either, has it?”
“You said you loved me before but went right past it, so I didn’t know. And this is the first time I really believe that you did...maybe still do. But never when we were together.”
“What I couldn’t say wasn’t what I felt. And I was so afraid of what I felt because the people in my life didn’t love me the way I thought they should. I saw my friends get that kind of love. Even just now I saw it between you and your dad. But what I got was always...compromised. There was always another component to it. Another agenda. So I suppose you could say that for me the non-resolution was safer than what I feared the resolution might be.”
“Which was why you were so distant so much of the time.”
“I was afraid to get closer, Arlo. Because I knew the ending to our story from the very first page.”
In the bed, Ward stirred and opened his eyes. Arlo jumped up to be at his side, and Ward gave him a very weak thumbs-up. “Everything’s in motion, Dad. Now we’re just waiting for the antivenin to arrive. Eric’s bringing it, by the way.”
Ward attempted a nod and a smile, then went back to sleep.
“So, what is it between you and your brother that you’re not close? His money? Do you resent it the way you resented mine?”
“I didn’t resent your money, Layla. Money’s never
been a big thing in my life one way or the other. But when we were together you used your money as a crutch, shutting me out of places where I really belonged. When you had a problem, rather than letting me help you through it, you went on a shopping spree. When you had your infrequent contact with your parents and ended up all depressed, and I’d try to be understanding, you’d push me away and—”
“Go on a shopping spree. It was easier than dealing with the emotions. And it’s what I learned growing up. When I had a problem, rather than my parents trying to help me through it, they bought me things. See this pearl necklace, darling? It’ll make you feel better. When you hear that enough, you start believing it. But what about Eric? If it wasn’t about money, then what?”
“We just haven’t had our opportunity yet. There was resentment in the past because we shared a mother I knew and he didn’t, but we’re over that. Or almost over. And as far as his money—or even yours—goes, I don’t resent it, but I don’t want my life to be about it either.”
“And you think mine is?”
“It was. You were the one who supported me, Layla. Took pity on the poor resident, invited him to live with you. Paid for the expensive meals out when you wanted to go out and I was good eating a bowl of cereal at home. You were the one who bought me a watch that cost more than I’d make in two or three years, because you thought it would look good on my arm. And Eric—shortly after he was married, and finally happy, he wanted to come in like a storm trooper and turn my hospital into something that would never work here. For me, when money entered the picture, I got pushed aside. Or what I wanted got pushed aside.”
“And what you want is...?”
“What I have. I’ve never been like other people, Layla. I’m simple. Not in the head, but in the way I want to spend my life. People get too complicated, too cluttered and they lose themselves in all that. Eric did. He was drowning when Michi, his wife, saved him. And you—the kind of ambitions you have—that’s way over my head. I’d much rather hike five miles into the jungle to treat a throat infection than sit behind a desk and only come out when protocol dictates I do.
