Windy City Romance: Boxed Set: Prequel - Book III

by Barbara Lohr

  Maybe when he went back to Chicago, he would be relieved. Maybe he’d be sorry he’d come and he’d turn to Priscilla Preston and her pristine world where women's obstetric and gynecological problems were handled in sleek offices with plasma TVs and educational videos.

  Snap out of it, McKenna. Time to focus on the work and not Logan. Time to rein in her growing feelings. Sure. Like she could do this.

  The day with the Guatemalan midwives was one McKenna would never forget. Almost twenty came, some wise from years of practice and others still new to the field. A cooling breeze blew from the mountains that day and heavy dark clouds threatened rain.

  These sessions dealt with more complex issues, like how to determine when a woman needed to be transported to a hospital. Because of the tension between hospitals and midwives, the women viewed a transfer as a necessary evil. They feared it but might have no choice. The death rate for both infants and mothers with complications was high.

  With Teresa interpreting and another woman translating into Mam, the Mayan dialect, McKenna took them through the various stages of labor. She explained what complications might indicate a real problem. Although Logan would have done a good job with this subject, it was important that they see a woman authority figure. “If a woman doesn’t dilate or if the baby's head doesn't drop into the pelvis after hours of labor, then it's time to think about the hospital.”

  Unease rippled through the group at the mention of the hospital. One new midwife admitted she’d lost a woman only last month from uncontrolled hemorrhaging. In that case, transport to a hospital might have saved her life. The women settled down with stern faces.

  “Most babies are born within three hours of pushing. If progress doesn't seem to be made, again it's time to evaluate transporting the patient to a hospital.” McKenna took them through other indications. They all needed to understand these signs to ensure the safety of both mother and baby. Their distrust of a health care facility twisted something deep in her gut. But they had no other recourse. Although Logan could have used the time to take a break, he stayed in the back, slugging down a bottle of pop and listening.

  Terry White had been primed to address family planning needed so desperately in these far-flung regions. The cities had access to resources like birth control but in distant villages, knowledge was limited and large families contributed to the poverty. The Guatemalan midwives listened carefully to Terry’s presentation.

  At lunch, Sherry passed out posters written in Spanish illustrating the dietary needs of women and children. Starvation stalked children in this area, but poor parents had no lands to plant with crops. Meals were often unbalanced and limited.

  “What we offer is just a drop in the bucket,” Logan murmured as the day’s session wrapped up.

  “We’ll never be able to solve all their problems, Logan. Took a couple of trips for me to come to terms with that. But our support is appreciated. We can make life-changing interventions for some of these women. Isn’t that better than nothing?”

  “Guess it has to be.” Logan’s eyes were shuttered.

  A cool chill worked its way down McKenna’s spine. The night before they’d taken a walk away from the clinic after supper. In the cool darkness, he’d kissed her. Need unleashed through her body with a wicked snap and she’d struggled for control that just wasn’t there. She wanted him so badly.

  Logan’s heavy panting told her he felt the same.

  But she wanted more than this, and the realization opened a chasm between them.

  After the session with Sherry was over, they walked down to the church where Ana Lena was resting following her pelvic floor repair. McKenna had glimpsed Logan with Pepito, dangling objects in front of the baby. Pepito reacted only to a voice not a keychain or a stethoscope, unless it made noise. Although Logan kept a tight cap on his feelings, she wished she could read his mind. Was this work a sad reminder of the son he’d lost and would that prove a barrier for Logan?

  Later in the day, McKenna saw Logan walking down the dirt road that went into town, nodding to people who came to their open doorway to see el Americano, el Doctor. Her concern eased a bit. Maybe everything would be all right. Maybe Logan would realize that their work was valued. That they could never address every need, but it still had tremendous worth.

  Logan was scheduled for two additional pelvic floor reconstructions toward the end of the week. Word of Ana Lena’s operation had traveled quickly. So far he had done five hymen reconstructions. The girls had looked penitent and hesitant, but once they realized Logan and the crew weren’t there to judge them, they emerged from the procedure smiling.

  But Wednesday night as she lay in her hammock, McKenna was awakened by the sound of rolling thunder that reverberated clear into her stomach.

  “What the heck?” Sherry muttered from the next hammock. “Sounds like the sky is falling.”

  McKenna listened for the patter of rain on the leaves of the trees outside. “That’s about right. Up here, rain is serious. Tropical rainfalls can wash out roads and flatten huts.”

  The clouds must have opened just then. The roar of the downpour made sleep impossible.

  Chapter 15

  Rain pummeled the roof all night. Juan snored and although Logan had packed ear plugs, there was no blocking a buzz saw. Instead of sleeping, he listened to the rain and thought about the week, which had been totally amazing. He felt he'd made a difference and was glad he'd come. Studying McKenna as she worked with the patients gave him a deep appreciation for her skills and compassion.

  Come morning, Juan handed him a black trash bag he’d slit for Logan’s arms. Logan tugged it over his head. He hadn’t showered all week and for a second he considered just walking down to the clinic in the rain. But then he’d be soaked and uncomfortable all day and he had too much to do.

  Slogging down the muddy road in his trash bag, he was glad he’d picked up these work boots for the trip. Thunder broke overhead and water poured from the sky with no sign of letting up. Even the trees looked discouraged. When he reached the clinic, McKenna’s expression stopped him at the door. “Do I look that bad?”

  She shook her head. “Nope, Dr. Castle, you look that good.”

  He would have kissed her but Sherry and Teresa were talking nearby. Except for one evening, they’d had almost no time together alone.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this.” One elbow propped against the door frame, he studied the driving rain that seemed to melt everything into a brownish green river. “Sure doesn't look good. And we can’t afford a down day. The women need recovery time. I want to check them before we leave.”

  McKenna threw him a guarded look. “I told you this would be difficult, weather included.”

  “Hey, just an observation. I'm fine and this...” He gestured outside. "This is fascinating."

  She visibly exhaled just as Teresa bustled out from the back. Sometimes he felt he was walking on eggshells with McKenna. He followed her back to the kitchen. The pigtails were growing on him and she’d never looked more beautiful.

  By that time, he worried that Sunday would come too soon. There was so much more to do. Teresa clucked encouragement, serving generous slices of cornbread and strong coffee for breakfast. He needed both. As he ate, he wondered if the women would even make it to the clinic today. The murkiness started to lift but the rain didn’t relent. Tin cup in hand, he walked out to the waiting room and stood in the doorway. The sight that greeted him would remain with him a long time. Heads bowed and trailed by older children carrying babies, mothers slogged through the water with only worn capes for protection. Teresa quickly crowded them into the waiting area at the front.

  Logan fell back, humbled. How often had his patients canceled because they didn’t want to ruin their hairdo in the rain or were worried about getting tied up in traffic? Some of these women must have started out in the middle of the night. They were that eager to be seen. Putting aside their mugs, the staff greeted patients with warm smiles and enco
uragement.

  “These are some tough ladies,” Logan murmured to McKenna, who was organizing her supplies.

  “Aren’t they? So strong with such spirit.” Without a bit of makeup, she glowed, totally in her element.

  “They’re like you, McKenna. Spirited. Unbreakable.” She flushed and looked away before ushering her first patient into her makeshift cubicle.

  Mid morning, Teresa appeared with Pepito in her arms. Logan had just finished with another fistula and was grabbing a cup of coffee. McKenna also stepped out from behind the sheet, eyes lighting up when she saw Pepito. “Let me take him,” she said.

  What a picture. He had to take a sip of coffee to hide his confusion. Rocking the baby, McKenna hummed the lullaby that played over the PA when babies were born at Montclair. Pepito nestled close and McKenna looked so happy.

  She was a woman who should have children. Lots of them.

  Could he give her that?

  Uncertainty stunned him. Logan blinked, forcing himself to focus on the baby, not his own uncertainty. What did the future hold for this little guy, who obviously would have special needs?

  Running one hand over the baby’s soft hair, McKenna murmured, “So big but so tiny. And such big challenges ahead.” She kissed the top of the baby’s head and looked up.

  Logan shifted his attention to the windows. Rain blew in although they’d tried to tape papers over the open windows. “These women are such troopers.”

  “You're exhausted. Why don’t you take a break?”

  When would she stop hovering? “I can sleep next week.”

  Her heart stuttered when their eyes caught. One of Pepito’s chubby hands wandered up to her face. When she kissed each tiny finger, the baby cooed.

  “Amazing child.” Voice raspy, Logan caught each movement.

  “I will take him. Precioso bambino, no?” Teresa had bustled over and McKenna gave up her charge. She had to go back to work. Anything to keep busy so she didn’t grab Logan and wring him like a wet towel for answers.

  That’s exactly what she’d done with Nick, she now realized. And look at how well that had turned out. But the stakes hadn’t been this high. She had to shelve that thought.

  The day wore on, dark and wet. It was almost impossible to tell when night fell, except her aching shoulders told McKenna she’d been working for hours. After a quick slab of cornbread, Logan disappeared down the road and she tumbled into the hammock and dreamless sleep.

  When the rain let up the following day, the midwives who had gone farther north returned with their escorts. Tired but exhilarated by their adventure, they told tales of tough women working under impoverished conditions.

  Thank goodness the sun came out on Saturday, but humidity pulsated in the small enclosure. Their time here was winding down much too quickly and it was hard for McKenna to picture going home. She felt the familiar tugging on her heart that plagued her every time she left Guatemala. Chicago and all its conveniences seemed so distant.

  The villagers always prepared a feast Saturday night to thank them. As they wrapped up on Saturday, McKenna felt a sense of accomplishment, even greater than her earlier visits. This trip had presented more difficult cases and a broader reach for their teaching opportunities. The grateful smiles of the patients and local midwives made it all worthwhile. Behind them, they would leave not only good wishes but also boxes of medical supplies. The relentless work had kept her from her preoccupation with Logan. But soon she’d have to deal with him.

  Their exchanges had been brief and truncated. He had been so quiet. Was she the only one restless with need?

  She loved Logan. And love creates need.

  Just what she’d been trying to avoid.

  After Logan left for Juan’s, McKenna gave herself a sponge bath with bacterial wipes. She was drying herself off, when Selena slipped into the cubicle. “So how’s it going?” Selena’s dark eyes snapped with curiosity. “You know, the two of you.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Taking her unkempt braids apart, McKenna vigorously brushed her hair out.

  “He’s done amazing work.”

  McKenna wielded the brush more slowly. “Yes, that he has. The man seems to be made of steel. Who knew?”

  “I think you knew. But heck, I sure didn’t.” Selena's raucous chortle bounced off the cinderblock walls.

  “Stop. The others will come running.” Pulling her hair back into a claw clip, McKenna twisted some curls along her neckline. Sure wasn't easy to fix her hair without a mirror.

  Selena gave her a silent shoulder bump. “So what do you think? A keeper?”

  McKenna turned thoughtful. “He’s definitely tougher than I figured. But I just don’t know, Selena.” She was not about to parade all her fears.

  “Stop, McKenna. Time to get gussied up.” She threw what looked like an embroidered cloth at McKenna.

  “What’s this?” Shaking out the fabric, McKenna held up a scoop neck blouse decorated with a flower pattern in intense colors of mauve, orange and green. “How gorgeous!”

  “Present from Teresa. We all got one. Put it on,” Selena tossed over her shoulder, heading out. “Time for celebration.”

  McKenna smiled as she slipped into her gift. The neckline dipped low, and she shivered. Tracing her fingers along the tops of her breasts, she remembered how Logan had looked at her in her green bikini that day on the boat. Seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d been so uncertain then. Not any more. Now she was in the game, but she had no idea how Logan felt.

  The rain had stopped and the air caressed her skin, warm and inviting. Time to relax.

  Darkness was falling when their group of volunteers reached the cave not far up the road from the village. The women laughed softly, dressed in the hand-embroidered blouses Teresa had provided. Celebration floated on the night air. The recent rain had awakened all sorts of rich, earthy smells. McKenna breathed deeply, listening to the night sounds along the way. A soft breeze had come up, the air fresh and new against her skin. Her hair was slipping from the clip, springing into long copper curls on her shoulders.

  A fiery glow beckoned from the cave when they drew closer. The tantalizing scent of food reminded her that she hadn't eaten much that day. Her stomach had been too nervous. The trip was ending. She prided herself on being able to forge ahead, no matter what the circumstances.

  But now she knew she’d fallen in love with Logan. She had a lot more on the line.

  Tortillas and cobs of corn along with what smelled like pork sizzled on a large open hearth. At the back of the cave stretched a long table decorated with red and fuchsia wildflowers. The scene was elemental and beautiful. She’d attended many hospital banquets, but nothing could top this simple elegance. Torches mounted in sconces lit the interior of the cave. Dressed in one of his blue shirts and fresh jeans Logan stood talking to Juan in the flickering light. His clothes might be rumpled but somehow he’d shaved and his hair curled damply at his collar. As she approached, his gaze caught hers in the darkness.

  One glance and she knew he saw it all—the long hair, the blouse. She rolled a shoulder as a tease and caught the glint in his eyes. But this was a group trip, so she took a seat between Sherry and Janet Johnson. Logan ended up at the other end of the table with Selena.

  With quiet smiles, the villagers served dinner. The steaming plates were heaped with tortillas stuffed with a mixture of beans and rice seasoned with spices that made her stomach growl and her eyes sting. Strips of wild boar were piled next to hunks of some kind of fowl. She was ravenous. The villagers filled earthen goblets with an amber liquid that sent fire to her belly before it mellowed out. She tossed back another gulp.

  Moving to the front of the group, Teresa began to speak. “As usual, your visit was a blessing for all of us. The gift of your talent is beyond measure.”

  Both men and women applauded. For a second, McKenna's eyes brimmed. Had she ever felt so grateful for her career? On the other side of the long table, Selena carried on an animated
conversation with Logan, probably signing him up for next year.

  “Now, please eat!” Teresa held up her hands. McKenna ate voraciously, making up for a week of beans and rice eaten on the run. A villager kept filling their goblets. While comparing notes with Sherry and Janet, McKenna felt Logan’s eyes on her. When she felt her top slip from a shoulder, she took her time pulling it back into place.

  By the time the music started, she felt full and pleasantly mellow. A small group of villagers played guitars, accompanied by drums and some kind of melodious whistle. The strings sang to her and she could feel the percussion instruments throb throughout her body. When the villagers began to sing, their words spoke of pride in their country and love for each other.

  After a native dance presented by the women, the men joined them, while the children stood clapping. McKenna smiled over at Ana Lena sitting on a blanket with a large attractive man who must be her husband. The man was holding Pepito, who looked happy and well loved.

  Family bliss. She was so caught up in the picture they presented that she was surprised when Logan touched her shoulder. “Dance?”

  He didn't wait for an answer, tugging her to her feet. Some of the other midwives began to dance with each other, and laughter filled the air. Excitement rippled through McKenna’s body when he pulled her into his arms.

  “I'm not a good dancer, but I'm a great leaner,” he whispered.

  “I can follow.” She fell into him, her body finding its place.

  “You follow?” His chuckle tickled her breasts. “Who are you kidding, McKenna Kirkpatrick? You’re a leader, and you know it.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  “Um, hmm.” He nuzzled her neck. Heat siphoned off reason and she clung to him. The sway of their bodies took on its own rhythm. All she could hear or feel was Logan, the tensile strength of his body intoxicating.