by Dianne Drake
“What were you expecting?” she asked him.
“I’m not sure, really. Maybe someone close to retirement age, or someone’s who’s basically burned out the way George was. The thing is, when you have very little to offer, you can’t expect your pick of the profession to come knocking on your door. Then when you showed up here—well, you’re closer to the pick of the profession, and I simply didn’t expect that. It caught me off guard. Gave me some hope I’m probably not entitled to have.”
“So you immediately turned rude, because you didn’t think you deserved someone like me, with my background and skills?”
“I immediately turned defensive, because I thought there was no way in hell I’d get to keep you here after you’d seen what I had to offer.” It was too late, he was too tired. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing here confessing to things that were true but would otherwise never be admitted to. In the course of one day, Juliette had softened him. Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen.
Time would tell, he supposed. “Before we go look at Maria, would you care for a cup of hot tea? Herbal, so it won’t keep you awake.”
“Want me to make it?” she asked him.
Damien shook his head. “A cup of tea is the least I can do for you. Oh, and Juliette, how about you take my hut for the rest of the night so you can get some sleep? I think it’s going to be pretty busy, and pretty noisy, in here.”
“But you need sleep worse than I do.”
“I’ve got my exam table.”
“Which is ungodly uncomfortable. No, you go back to your hut and I’ll stay here.”
“And here, I’m trying to be nice to you.”
Juliette shook her head, then smiled. “Don’t be too nice, because if you are I’m afraid I won’t recognize you.”
And that was the problem. He wanted her to recognize him.
CHAPTER FIVE
“IT WAS BUSY,” Juliette said to Cynthia over a typical Costa Rican breakfast called gallo pinto, made of black beans and rice. Some restaurants made it with bacon, eggs, ham and a number of other ingredients, but Juliette preferred hers plain, as her appetite was never large in the morning. “A lot of people come in with general complaints, and that takes up most of the time. So I saw gout, bug bites, a broken finger—those kinds of things. But I also assisted in an emergency C-section, which was a good opportunity for me to learn since all my pregnant ladies at the hospital back in Indiana got referred to the obstetrics clinic.”
Cynthia snapped her head up and looked across the table at Juliette. “You did a C-section? How? Because what I’ve been gathering is that your little hospital isn’t equipped to do much of anything.”
“It’s not. But that didn’t matter, because we did it at the patient’s home.” She took a sip of coffee then sat the mug back down on the table. This had become her morning routine.
A small portion of gallo pinto and coffee in the tiny little restaurant down the block from her flat. It was cheap, filling, and once she’d gotten used to the starchy heaviness that early in the day, she’d actually grown to like the concoction.
“It was a little dicey, since I’ve never assisted in a C-section outside my residency, but Damien was there and he’s a skilled surgeon so Maria—the patient—was in good hands.”
“Is he cute?”
“Who?”
“Damien. What’s he look like? Tall, dark and handsome? Great body? Nice smile? Soft hands?”
“Whoa,” Juliette said, thrusting out her hand to stop her friend. “I was too busy working to pay that kind of attention to him.” Nice words, not exactly true, however, as she had paid a little attention to him. And while Damien wasn’t the physical type she’d always been attracted to, something about his blatant rawness was appealing. Sexy. “Actually, he is tall, dark and handsome. I did notice that much.” With drop-dead gorgeous brown eyes, and a beautiful smile punctuated by the most appealing dimples she’d ever seen on a man. “And I have an idea that in his real surroundings, he’s probably a bad boy.”
Cynthia’s eyes lit up. “Maybe I’ll have to go out there with you sometime. I really like bad boys.”
“He’ll put you to work,” Juliette warned. “Make you change beds.”
“As long as his bed is included in that, I won’t mind.”
It almost put Juliette off, seeing how her friend was reacting to a man she’d never met, let alone seen.
“He’s grumpy.”
“So?”
“I mean, really grumpy.”
“Yeah, but there are ways to soothe the savage beast.”
“Aren’t you engaged or something?”
A dreamy look overtook Cynthia’s eyes. “To my one and only. But a girl can still look, can’t she?”
Actually, Juliette didn’t know since she’d never been one who was much into looking. Something else always got in the way, always took up her time and energy.
“Look, I need to get on into work. I’ve got a prospective GI doc coming in about half an hour, and I want to take him over to the hospital and show him around, so he’ll have time to acquaint himself with the facility before his interview.” She also just needed to get away from Cynthia for a little, to clear her head. To put some proper perspective on why she felt the way she did where Damien was concerned. “So why don’t you finish up here, and I’ll see you when you get to work.”
“Do you have a thing for him, Juliette?” Cynthia asked bluntly.
“A thing?” There was no thing going on with her—except maybe a smidge of fascination. And that didn’t qualify as a thing, did it?
“You know—something going on. Or maybe just a feeling. Because I think you’re mad at me right now because I teased you about him.”
Cynthia’s reaction to Damien might have been teasing but, for a reason Juliette didn’t understand, it had struck a raw nerve in her. “I’m not mad at you, and I don’t have a thing with, or for, Damien.” Said a little too vehemently, she was afraid. Which she was sure Cynthia would misinterpret.
“Well, I was just joking with you. I mean, I’ve got Carlos and I’m not looking to get involved with anyone else. Not even your Damien.”
“He’s not my Damien, and I’m not looking to get involved with him, either.”
“Then you two didn’t hit it off?”
Juliette shook her head. “He’s a talented doctor, which I respect, but apart from that...” She shrugged. “He’s just not my type.” A sentiment that wasn’t necessarily true, if she took into account all the many times she’d thought about him since she’d come back to San José just this morning. “Besides, I don’t have time for a personal life. Between my two jobs, I barely have time to sleep.”
“And whose fault is that? Aren’t you the one who works the late hours and, as often as not, goes in early? And aren’t you the one who always goes out of her way to help clients in ways not required of our job?”
What Cynthia said was true. But, in her own defense, these were the things she did to make sure the people who were trusting her to make a perfect medical match for them got everything they hoped for. She took her job seriously—as seriously as Damien took his job in his impoverished little jungle hospital. As seriously as her dad took his job in a large, university teaching hospital. “I’m just doing the best I can.”
“And not enjoying your life while you’re doing it. You’re going to get tired of living that way, Juliette,” Cynthia warned. “When I first came here, I was just like you—too dedicated. It almost burned me out. But eventually I began to back away from it and find a life outside of my work.”
“You fell in love with a doctor at one of the hospitals,” Juliette replied, smiling. “That’ll give you a new life.”
“If you let it. And, from what I can see of you, you’re not letting it.”
“I’ve barely been here a month, Cynthia. I hardly know my way around my desk yet.”
“Well, keep your mind open to this jungle doctor. Your eyes lit up when you mentioned him.” Cynthia shoved back from the little table for two and stood. “In the meantime, I think I’ll go in a little early with you, and give Carlos a call.”
“Didn’t he just leave the flat like two hours ago?”
“Maybe he did, but I miss him already.”
“Spoken like a woman in love,” she said to Cynthia.
Of course, for Juliette, love was only an idea, a notion. Something that sounded beautiful. But she’d never been in love. Never pictured herself as someone who was lovable, as no one had ever fallen in love with her. Of course she wasn’t sure she’d ever given anyone the chance. She’d been too busy, between her work and her father. In some ways, she was turning into him—always striving to take on more work, then hiding behind it in lieu of a real life. Building block upon block, which turned into a fortress. Well, she was finding herself more and more cloistered inside that fortress every day, wanting to get out of it. And Costa Rica was her out. Falling in love with someone, though, was the best out she could think of. But she didn’t know if that would happen.
“Well, just give it time,” Cynthia said. “Maybe you’ll find the love of your life here, in Costa Rica, too.”
Wishful thinking as she didn’t know where to look for it. She was too inexperienced when it came to love. Embarrassed by the fact that, at thirty-three, she didn’t know a thing about it. Saddened by the fact that she might have let it pass her by without even seeing it.
* * *
“Quit looking at the road, Damien,” George Perkins said as he was changing a bandage on Alfonso Valverde, the local mechanic. He’d been working on a truck manifold and received a nasty burn, which he hadn’t treated at the time. Now it was infected and the infection had spread from his thumb to his entire hand. “She’ll get here when she gets here.”
“I expected her an hour ago,” Damien said, fighting to keep his eyes off the front window.
“Maybe she had car trouble. Or got swallowed up in one of the potholes on the way out here. Or maybe a jaguar...” George grinned up at Damien. “Or maybe she’s just late.”
“Or decided she didn’t want to come.”
“Without getting word to you?” George shook his head. “She doesn’t seem the type. Of course, I really don’t know what type she is, so maybe I’m not the one who should be telling you to quit looking.”
Fat lot of help that was! He’d spent the whole week thinking about Juliette, planning on ways to make this weekend better for her. Of course, he’d also spent the week reminding himself of all the reasons he didn’t want to get involved with a rich girl again. And he stretched that involvement to include working with her.
“Well, I’m going to run down the street and see Padre Benicio. He hasn’t been feeling well for the last couple of days and since he refuses to come into the hospital, the hospital’s going to him.”
“Tell him for me that Carmelita and I want to get married in a few weeks, so he’d better get over what’s ailing him, because I don’t want a sick priest anywhere near me on my wedding day.”
“It’s allergies,” Damien said. “He’s not contagious.”
“Well, I don’t want him sneezing his allergies all over my bride.”
“You’re actually going to go through with it?”
George taped the end of the bandage and put on his reading glasses to make a close inspection of his work. “I’m almost sixty, so why wait? She’s given me a second chance at life.”
“Well, I wish you and Carmelita the best of luck. And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a great couple. She’s good for you.” The man had so much faith in the power of love it almost made Damien want to believe again.
“Sorry I’m late,” Juliette called from the doorway. “I didn’t get away from San José as early as I’d hoped to.”
Without turning to face her, Damien said, “You’re late? I didn’t notice.”
George shook his head, rolled his eyes and gave Damien a pat on the shoulder as he walked out the door. “Good luck with Damien,” he said to Juliette. “He’s in a mood tonight.”
“Another mood?” Juliette asked.
“My mood’s no better or worse than it ever is,” Damien replied, slinging his medical rucksack over his shoulder.
“Something I’ve looked forward to all week,” Juliette replied. “So, are you going out on a house call?”
“I am. And George’s off tonight, so the hospital is all yours for now.”
“But you’re coming back, aren’t you?”
“Eventually.” Actually, he wanted to get back as quickly as he could, but that would make him seem anxious, maybe even desperate. So, to avoid anything that made him look the least bit interested in Juliette, he decided to take the long road home, stop at the village café for a bite to eat—he had a taste tonight for arreglados, a tiny sandwich filled with meat and salad—then afterward he might wander on over to see how Javier Rojas was responding to the new medication he’d prescribed for him: cyclobenzaprine, a drug used for treating the muscle spasms he was having in his back. Anything to keep him away for a while. Anything to give him time to think about some unexpected feelings he was having. Unexpected, and quick, as he’d known her only a week.
“And if I need help while you’re gone?”
“Alegria’s on tonight. Right now she’s gathering up the hospital gowns from the lady who washes them for us, but she should be back here in about fifteen minutes.”
Damn! This wasn’t the way he’d envisioned the evening starting out. Every single day this past week he’d come up with a new scenario. He and Juliette would pitch in together and check every patient in the hospital. He and Juliette would have a nice meal together before they started work. He and Juliette would simply sit down together and have a pleasant chat. The list of scenarios went on and on, yet here he was, leaving her all alone. No he and Juliette anything!
“So you want me to make beds again?”
“Actually, what I’d like is for you to make a bedside check of all the patients. You know, get their vital signs, assess them for whatever we’re treating them for, address wounds, that sort of thing. Oh, and we’ve got seven patients admitted right now. Nothing seriously wrong with any of them, so you shouldn’t have a tough evening.”
“How’s Maria Salas and her baby doing?”
“Maria’s doing fine. So is Alejandro, her baby. We sent them home day before yesterday, and she’s due back in here tomorrow so we can make sure nothing’s going wrong with her incision.” He paused, and frowned. “You know, to save her the trip over here, I might just stop by her house this evening to take a look.” At the rate he was going, he’d be lucky to get back to the hospital by midnight.
“Well, it looks like I’ve got a busy night ahead of me. Guess I should get to work.” Instead of heading into the hospital ward, though, she turned and started walking toward the clinic.
“Where are you going?” Damien asked her.
“I ran into Padre Benicio on the way in. He’s got a terrible cough, and he said he’s coming down with a sore throat now. So I’m going to go take a look at him. He’s in the clinic right now, waiting for me.”
“How’d you get him here when I’ve been trying for days, and he’s refused me every time?”
“Simple. I asked.” Juliette smiled, and shrugged. “What can I say? I have good powers of persuasion.”
“That’s all it took?”
“Well, that, and I also promised to pick up a book for him when I get back to San José.”
“So, you’re bribing a priest. Guess I never thought of that.”
“Actually I didn’t either, but he laid the opportuni
ty out there by mentioning a book he’d like to have, and I grabbed it.”
“Well, your new bribed friend has allergies,” Damien said, chuckling. “He’s allergic to the flowers on the trumpet tree. They produce these lovely white flowers that go perfectly with a bat’s nocturnal activities. The flower is closed up during the day and opens only at night, revealing its pollen-releasing stamen, which attracts the bats. Padre Benicio is allergic to the pollen.”
“You had him tested for that?”
Damien shook his head. “Nope. Just applied common sense. He’s improved during the day, pretty much to the point that he functions normally. But at night all hell breaks loose with his allergies. Which means that it’s related to something that comes up every night. The trumpet trees are blooming right now, and since that happens at night—” He shrugged. “Common sense.”
“Ah, yes, the standard at El Hospital Bombacopsis.”
“Hey, it works! When you don’t have the proper equipment at your disposal, you learn to rely on your own instincts or gut reactions.”
“If you trust yourself that much.”
Juliette was a confident woman. Somehow, he didn’t see her as someone who wouldn’t trust herself.
“It’s a class they should probably offer in medical school, because there are a lot of doctors, all over the world, who are treating by the seat of their pants, the way we do here.”
“Well, Padre Benicio is a lucky man since his diagnosis does make common sense. Like Señor Mendez and his gout.”
Damien nodded. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got.”
“And, apparently, you’ve got a good gut instinct. Anyway, how are you treating Padre Benicio?”
“Diphenhydramine.”
“That’s it? Something over the counter?”
