New York Doc, Thailand Proposal

by Dianne Drake

  “But people assume that because I’m poor, and will likely spend my life that way, that I’m to be pitied. So they buy me expensive watches and send architects to a jungle to design a state-of-the-art mini-medical center. While their—your—intentions may be good, they’re not my intentions. But that gets overlooked.”

  “Wow,” she said, stunned. “Have I ever done anything right?”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong. Neither has Eric. People who care for each other want the best. Only in my case, my best wasn’t good enough for the people who cared for me.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, then at his dad. “It’s getting close,” he said, as Ward was beginning to turn a peculiar shade of gray. Layla had put an IV in him hours ago, and the oxygen was helping his breathing a little bit. But he was burning with fever now and shaking so hard the vibration of it traveled through the bed and down to the wooden floor.

  “I’ll bet Eric will be here within two hours.”

  “If he holds on that long.”

  She could feel Arlo’s despair. Even though he was fighting hard not to show the fear, she saw it. The distant look in his eyes. The impatient way he ran his hand through his hair. Shifting positions sometimes several times a minute. No looking directly at his dad unless it was in some medical way. “He’s in good physical condition overall, Arlo. That’s to his benefit.”

  “Pep talks don’t work here,” he said, bolting off the bed. “So please—” He stopped, shook his head. “I need some air. Won’t be gone long.” With that, he strode out the hospital door, pushed his way through all the people out there and headed for a path straight into the jungle. Layla watched him from the window but didn’t go after him. He needed to be alone. With his dad being so sick, and with all the talking they’d been doing, she knew that as well as she knew her own name. Arlo needed space and she wouldn’t deprive him of it.

  * * *

  “It’s complicated, isn’t it?” Sylvie said. She’d come to help and now she was bringing a cup of tea to Layla, who was sitting bedside with Ward, holding his hand. “It turns your world around and there’s nothing you can do about it except let it happen and hope you don’t perish in it somewhere.”

  “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him the first time I did, and I certainly didn’t mean to do it again. And you’re right. It’s complicated.”

  “If you want it to be. When I was married, we didn’t allow complications. My husband was much older than I and I knew our time together wouldn’t be as long as I wanted. So, every day was a gift. And I’m not saying we didn’t have problems. Every couple does. But we didn’t let them come between us. Which is what I believe is happening to you and Arlo. You’re letting the complications keep you apart.”

  “But how can you get through them?”

  “You let the love in. Freely. Fully. Once it’s there you’ll find that the complications aren’t so...complicated.”

  “So why did you stay here after your husband died? Didn’t it hurt to do that?”

  “It did, but we loved it here. And that’s the thing I can’t bear to walk away from. It’s still here, and it still keeps me connected to the love of my life.” She smiled fondly. “This is my home now. I can’t leave it. As they say, home is where the heart is.”

  And her heart and home were with Arlo. Which proved Sylvie right. Suddenly her complications weren’t as complicated as she knew what she had to do. Finally, after all this time, she knew. Now she only hoped it would be the same for Arlo.

  * * *

  Arriving in the nick of time was just that. Eric had arrived in the nick of time with the antivenin. And now Arlo was watching his brother load his dad onto a helicopter for transport to one of the best hospitals in Bangkok. He’d promised to come back tomorrow to give Arlo a lift there to be with his dad.

  And Layla—she was working hard and fast to take all their medical calls. Insulin shots, maternity checks, rashes, everything.

  He caught up with her outside Dusit’s vendor stall and literally had to take hold of her arm to keep her in place for a moment. “He’s going to be OK,” he said to her.

  She smiled. “That’s what the talk on the street is all about.”

  “Except you don’t understand the talk on the street.”

  “I have my ways, Arlo.”

  “Like I didn’t know that before. So, care to come sit with me for a little while?”

  “Will it involve a cup of tea?”

  “And a pair of arms around you, if you’d like that.”

  “Ah, the one offer I can’t refuse.” She slipped her hand into his. “Are you OK? You look exhausted.”

  “Probably because I am exhausted. But I’m too wound up to sleep.”

  “Then think nice, warm soak in a tub.”

  “I would, except for two things. No warm water. No tub.”

  She smiled. “That’s what you think, Dr. Benedict.” She pointed down the road to several men who were hefting an old, galvanized tub of some sort into their hut. “Problem one, solved.”

  “It’s for the water buffalo to drink out of,” he said, more frustrated than amused. “Not for people to soak in.”

  “It can be anything you want it to be, Arlo.”

  “Then what becomes of the poor water buffalo who’s thirsty?” He knew she meant well, but all he wanted to do was talk about their problems rather than try to solve them in some poor water buffalo’s trough. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Obviously, she wasn’t. And right now he simply didn’t have it in him to work it out because this was the old Layla, trying to fix matters with her materialist outlook. Expensive watches, a water trough. It was all the same. Something meant to push away the reality of what they needed to talk about.

  “Look, let’s talk later, OK? Without the trough. Maybe when we can take our situation more seriously.” Bad words. He knew that from the look on her face. But it was too late to take them back, and he really didn’t want to try and explain. Not now. Maybe not ever since they’d had a variation on this theme before and nothing good had come out of it. “When I’m up to it?”

  “Up to it, Arlo? Or do you mean up to dealing with me?”

  He held his arms up in surrender. “Look, now’s not the time. We might say things we’d regret later on, and I don’t want to do that. Not again.” And another bad turn of the word. He was sinking here, and didn’t know how to save himself. So, for now, he wasn’t even going to try. And hopefully, after he’d rested, when they’d come back around to this, and they would, he’d make better sense of it. He wanted to. But in his current condition he wasn’t optimistic.

  “Just as well,” she said, pulling her hand from his. “I have several more patients to see, plus several hours of charting ahead of me. Need to write up a progress report for Ollie, too. Think I’ll take it over to Sylvie’s tomorrow, scan it and send it to him right away.”

  Yep, the same old Layla. Different circumstances, different conditions, same old Layla. And here he was hoping—well, it didn’t matter what he hoped, did it? They really hadn’t come so very far from where they’d left off last time. One of them wanting to talk, the other putting it off. The beginning of the end of something they both wanted but didn’t know how to hold onto.

  * * *

  “Looks like the lady isn’t happy with you,” Eric said, coming up behind Arlo. “I think she’s giving you the cold shoulder.” It was early morning, the day after Ward had gone to Bangkok, and Eric was there to fetch his brother.

  “To be honest, I’m used to it. That’s our history because Layla is ambitious in ways I’m not and, in the end, that’s what causes our problems. I can’t win over her ambitions and she doesn’t see why I can’t put aside what I want so she can have what she wants. That’s what killed us the first time, and what will kill us again. We can’t be together and still go our separate ways which is why I think she
is going to have to go back early. This isn’t doing either of us any good. We can talk and talk until there are no words left, but there’s no resolution. Our destinies are different.”

  “And you can’t compromise?”

  “How?” Arlo shook his head. “Look, I know that you’re happy now and you want everybody to be as happy as you are. But life doesn’t always work out that way.”

  “I gave up a billion-dollar corporation and moved halfway around the world because I loved Michi more than anything else in my life, and I would have moved heaven and earth to be with her. It was a small sacrifice considering all I’ve gotten in return. So maybe you just don’t love Layla enough. Anyway, we need to fly. I stopped by to see your dad before I came back here and he’s up and ready to get out of there. I think we need to fly to Bangkok, grab him, and we can come back. Maybe by that time I’ll be able to meet her properly. Or, at the very least, she’ll have forgiven you for being so dense about the ways of true love.”

  “Does it matter? This is history repeating itself.”

  “It does matter if you’re going to patch things up and finally marry her.”

  “Who said anything about marriage?”

  “I did, if you’re smart.”

  “Do you really think I could adjust to living a civilized life? Go back to New York and start to wear real shoes?”

  “If Layla means that much to you, you can do anything.”

  Arlo looked up and down the main road of the village, somewhat pensively at first. Then he smiled. “I do have a brother who owns a fleet of airplanes, so getting back here from time to time wouldn’t be a big deal, would it?”

  “Any time you want to fly, it’s there, waiting for you.”

  “You do realize that I’m about to become a man of material means, don’t you?”

  “Then I take it your destiny is in New York?”

  “Working for my very ambitious wife, it seems.”

  Eric chuckled. “Welcome to the road that will lead you to be the happiest man in the world, next to me, of course. Now, on the way to Bangkok, let’s discuss how we’re going to manage the holidays. Your and Layla’s place, or Michi’s and mine?”

  * * *

  She wasn’t sure what’d she heard, and when she’d realized she was practically eavesdropping, she walked away. But it sounded like Arlo was getting ready to send her away. Had she heard him saying they were about to go their separate ways?

  Angry tears streamed down her face and she didn’t even bother to blot them. She’d come to tell him she wanted to stay, wanted to find her happiness in the life that made him so happy. But he had other ideas, and he didn’t even have the decency to discuss them with her.

  Well, maybe she deserved that. Still, it hurt. Hurt worse this time because she knew so much more. Knew that she loved him and how valuable that love was. Knew she could make sacrifices to be with him. Knew that her true happiness was with Arlo and not in her ambitions and agendas. She’d watched him. Everything he did only made her love him more. And the respect he received—he couldn’t walk away from that. She didn’t want him to. She’d never had that from anyone. Didn’t know what it felt like. But she was so proud of the respect Arlo had earned and, for the first time, knew that was enough for her.

  But, in the end, maybe she simply was his holiday. The one he’d get together with every few years, then walk away from when, yet again, he realized their gap was too wide to bridge. Or she realized once more that sometimes love wasn’t enough. Well, not now. Not while she had some dignity still intact. Not much, but some. And this time—there was closure.

  She’d seen his world, even fancied herself a part of it. Deluded herself into thinking she was fitting in. She was wrong, though. Wrong in so many ways. So she’d go. Go her separate way, like he’d told his brother they would do. But with her head held high, as she’d given it a chance. And failed. Only problem was, even while her head was being held high, her heart was breaking in a way it would never be put together again. Nobody compared to Arlo. She knew that even more now, this second time, than she had the first. Nobody compared, nobody ever would. And in a way, that sealed her destiny.

  * * *

  “It’s nothing, Mrs. Anderson. Just a minor infection in your incision. I’ll take a culture and call in a prescription. If it doesn’t clear up in a week, make another appointment.”

  All day—consultations, scheduling surgeries, scheduling follow-ups. Not even many surgeries to perform as now her work was all about the administrative side of what she’d rather be doing. But in the jungle. She was assistant chief of surgery now, yet her duties made her restless. Meaning what she’d worked so hard to get wasn’t what she wanted after all.

  Arlo—she couldn’t even begin to count the many times she’d thought of him this past month. Had shed tears. Gotten angry. Shed more tears. More than she’d counted on. More than she’d wanted. But she missed him in ways she’d never known one person could miss another. And working for his grandfather wasn’t helping matters because Ollie was always the constant reminder of what she’d almost had.

  But that wasn’t going to last as she’d accepted the promotion on a temporary basis, then applied for a surgical position, no administration at all, in Texas. This time next week she’d be doing surgical repairs on cowboys.

  “Could you pop the chart up on the screen for my next patient?” she asked Jackie Hastings, one of the clerks. “I can’t get the computer to do anything, and according to the list I saw printed out earlier, I’m supposed to see somebody named Jeanne Kingston.”

  “She’s on the list, Doctor. But there’s another name before hers. It’s classified as immediate care.”

  “By?”

  “You,” Jackie said. “That’s your name on the schedule override.”

  “Except I didn’t override the schedule.” Maybe Ollie had, accidentally. Or one of the other three staff doctors. “Well, is the patient male or female?”

  Jackie looked perplexed. “There’s really no information here except a name I can’t read and the diagnosis of heart problems. And it’s scrawled on the admit sheet, not logged into the computer.”

  “So spell the name for me.”

  Jackie looked at the handwritten admission form and shook her head. “Fig—fig something. Figgy?” She squinted her eyes, then shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t make sense of it. I think his name is Mr. Fig?” She squinted again. “Figtree. His name is Mr. Figtree.”

  Layla gasped, then dropped her note tablet on the desk. “Where is he? What room?”

  “Seven,” Jackie said. But by the time the word was totally out of her mouth, Layla was running down the hall toward Exam Seven.

  “What are you doing here?” Layla choked, fighting hard to keep her composure as she ran into Mr. Figtree’s room.

  “I needed a doctor.”

  “For what you’re describing as a heart problem.”

  “A very big heart problem,” Arlo said, keeping a straight face.

  “Then maybe I should refer you straight to a cardiologist.” Dear lord, she wanted to throw herself into his arms. But she didn’t know if she should, or if he’d even want it.

  “Don’t need one,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I already know the cure.”

  “Which is?” she asked.

  “A secret.”

  She stood there, scrutinizing him for a moment. He looked so good. But, then, Arlo always looked good. And she’d missed him so badly... “So the cure to your problem is a secret you’re keeping from your doctor?”

  “It might be. Or I might be ready to get cured.” A smile began to curve his lips.

  “How does that work?”

  Please, please, please let this be what I hope it is.

  “By divulging my secret to see what she can do about it.”

 
“Is it a secret or a complication?”

  He shrugged. “Remains to be seen. Why did you leave, Layla? You didn’t even stay around long enough to say goodbye. When I got back from Bangkok, you were gone. Nothing left behind. And the medic who’d come to take over while I was gone had no idea why you left.”

  “I left because that’s what you wanted me to do.” But not what she’d wanted to do.

  “I did, occasionally. I’ll admit it. But if I’d known you’d actually do it, I would have stopped you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I was so damned messed up that I didn’t even realize I was pushing away the best thing I’d ever had in my life. I built my life around one thing, Layla, and you plowed through that so easily it scared me. Especially since I didn’t want the same things out of life that you did.”

  “Things change, Arlo. I changed. But not until I realized that what I didn’t want was what I wanted most. By then, though, it was too late. You were done with me.”

  “I wasn’t done with you, Layla. I was done with me. At least, the part of me that wouldn’t budge enough to let you in.”

  “Then why did you want me to leave?”

  “I was coming with you, Layla. That’s what changed. I was coming with you.”

  She shook her head. “How could you do that, Arlo? This isn’t your life.”

  “Neither is Thailand, without you.”

  She shut her eyes, so afraid of what she expected to hear yet even more afraid that what she expected, and even wanted, wasn’t going to happen. But this was the moment, wasn’t it? That one moment when she’d either have everything she wanted or nothing at all. The one where, instead of running away from something, she had to run toward something. The one where she would have everything in her heart rather than trying to save her heart from the pain she always expected.