Alfonzo took Mr. Mendez’s blood pressure, checked his pulse, and asked questions. The elderly man explained his symptoms in rapid-fire Spanish, and Raylyn struggled to understand. With every word, her trepidation increased. What had she been thinking? She shouldn’t have let them rush her through the Spanish course. She should have insisted they give her more time.
Distracted by her failings, she hadn’t noticed Alfonzo had finished until he directed the man into the lobby and ushered Raylyn to the hallway.
“Did you understand?”
“Do you want the truth?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then no, I didn’t completely understand him.”
“No worries. You could have asked his daughter. She speaks English well enough. Also, you will find if you ask, they will slow down or speak your language. And do not be afraid to request help. Now I must prepare a room. I will open the door and call for Mr. Mendez when I am ready.”
Raylyn nodded and returned to her spot behind the counter.
Once Mr. Mendez was escorted to a room, another patient entered. It took awhile to find the patient’s file. By the time she escorted him to triage, the patient was irritable and ready to leave.
His wife pleaded, “Mariano, you mustn’t leave. What will we do if something happens to you?” The man frowned but listened to his wife’s pleas.
Raylyn took his vitals and asked questions, but Mariano wouldn’t answer. She looked to the wife for assistance and almost released a sigh when the young lady replied.
“He fell last week and cut himself. He wouldn’t come to the doctor, and now it oozes. See?” She lifted her husband’s pant leg, and Raylyn fought the urge to recoil at the smell.
She noted the issue on his chart and directed the couple back into the waiting room. Raylyn went to find Alfonzo. “I think we have someone who needs to be referred.”
She explained, and Alfonzo frowned. “I know Mariano. He will not like what I have to tell him.”
“I’m not sure it is gangrene, but if it is, and they don’t take his leg—“ She stopped talking.
“Yes, I know. I am almost finished with this patient. We will close up early, and I will go with him to the hospital.”
Alfonzo reentered Juan’s room, and Raylyn returned to the counter. Patients lined the walls of the waiting area. She gulped. What were they to do with them? They couldn’t send them home.
Shuffling papers on the desk, Raylyn waited for Alfonzo. A tap on her shoulder startled her. Alfonzo stood behind her; a frown covered his face. “When did these people arrive?”
“Just now. What should I do?”
“Can you take care of them?”
“Me?” she asked, pointing a shaky finger at her chest.
“If you can treat them, good, if not, send them home and tell them to come back tomorrow.”
“But—”
He placed his hands on her upper arms and stared into her eyes. A smile lit his face. “I know you can do this. For if you do not, then I fear Mariano might die.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“Mariano will not go to the hospital without my assistance.”
Raylyn looked over the crowd of patients and swallowed. Was she up to the task? She’d seen action in the severely wounded ward, and she was well-equipped to handle many situations. But acting as a doctor? She drew in a deep breath and prayed. She would just have to treat each one individually and follow Alfonzo directions. If the case was too difficult, she would refer them to the hospital or ask that they return the next day.
She nodded.
Alfonzo called for Mariano and his wife. The three of them entered a patient room only to come out moments later and exit the front door. Several patients in the waiting room groaned. But as she called the first patient to triage, they grew quiet.
Chapter Thirteen
In his apartment, Jack fell onto the sofa and removed his prosthesis. A raw place had appeared beneath his sock, and he massaged the area. Leaving it off, he laid his head against the seat and grimaced. His neck burned from wind and sun exposure. If only he could lie in a hot tub of water and relax. Maybe a shower striking his sore muscles would suffice. Too bad he couldn’t take his time and just let the water course over his back, but Manuel had invited him over to eat. If he’d had any food in his apartment, he would have declined. He was so tired, he could barely move.
The tiled roofs of San Cristóbal were different from any other roof he’d worked on. First, they could only replace tiles they could reach with a ladder, because standing on the roof could cause damage to other tiles. After the broken tile was removed, with some creativity, they had to take it to a shop to find a replacement tile that would fit. Then came the process of putting the new tile in place.
A knock sounded. With his prosthesis off, he couldn’t rise, so he yelled, “Come in.”
Manuel entered and stopped.
“Come on in, Manuel. I’m just resting.”
He continued, lifted his chin toward the ceiling, and whistled softly under his breath. “I am sorry to bother you, señor. Would you prefer your supper brought to you?”
Jack noted Manuel’s discomfort. He replaced the prosthetic sock and reached for the prosthesis. “Is that an option?”
“Si. The young señorita has made such a request. I can do the same for you.”
“Thank you. But instead of bringing my meal up here, I’ll join the lady downstairs.”
“Very good. I will return.”
Manuel scurried out the door, and Jack replaced his prosthesis with his shower leg, pushed off the cushioned seat, and stumbled toward the shower. His pulse beat rapidly against his neck as he anticipated his impromptu dinner with Raylyn.
****
While she waited on Manuel to bring dinner, Raylyn changed into a flowery skirt and a solid yellow, soft, cotton t-shirt. She left her shoes at the door and padded barefoot across the cold tiles.
Manuel knocked, and she hurried to open the door. He carried a basket to her table and unloaded dishes.
“Manuel,” she said, gnawing on her lip, “this seems like a lot of food.”
“Si, I made enough for señor Williams. He will be joining you.”
“But—“ She protested only to have Manuel interrupt her.
“He is tired this night. I fear I worked him overly hard. I did not realize his infirmity.”
Raylyn closed her mouth on her protests and helped unload the remaining dishes. Before Manuel left, she said, “Any word on Mariano?”
“No. I must wait until Alfonzo returns. I fear for them.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, as Manuel headed toward the door.
“Mariano is a farmer. If he only has one leg, then he will have a hard time providing for his family. Although I must say, after seeing señor Williams work, my fears are slightly relieved. He works as well as any man.”
Raylyn nodded and closed the door behind Manuel. Scents of the fresh-baked tamales drifted to her nose, and her mouth watered. How long might she have to wait? A knock echoed, and Jack opened the door and peeked around the edge.
“May I come in?”
“Yes.” The word came out raspy, and she cleared her throat and tried to control her raging emotions. She needed a distraction. How could water droplets sprinkling his hair cause him to look so handsome?
Swallowing, she headed to the small refrigerator and pulled out two bottled waters. When she returned to the table, Jack had already taken a seat and stretched his legs out.
“I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself over for dinner.”
She shook her head. Of course I mind! What was he thinking to just barge in on her quiet time?
“I just couldn’t make myself walk over to Manuel’s tonight.”
A measure of guilt assailed her. “I understand.”
“Would you like me to pray?”
She nodded, grateful for his offer. Right then, she couldn’t have strung two words together even
if she’d wanted to.
He offered thanks, and when he finished, he asked, “Did you have a rough first day?”
She nodded and took her seat. Lids off the dishes, she piled food on her plate.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked as he gathered his own food.
She opened her mouth to say no, but the details fell from her lips. “I’ve never been so stressed. I had to be receptionist, nurse, and doctor!” Her breathing increased, and she drew in a slow breath until she calmed.
“What happened?”
His interest in her plight encouraged her to share, and she proceeded to tell him the story of Mariano and how Alfonzo had had to leave with him. “The patients that came later weren’t hard to treat. It was just there were so many. They didn’t complain about their wait, which was amazing. They were just glad to be seen.”
“Sounds like you saved the day.”
The inflection of his voice sounded sincere, and heat flushed her cheeks. She studied the contents of her plate until she felt in control. She asked, “How was your day?”
He shrugged. “The work is different.”
“I’m sure you did fine.”
He wiped his mouth. “Whether I did or not, the people seemed greatly appreciative, and it felt good to do something for someone who needed it.”
She smiled. She knew the feeling he spoke of, and she completely agreed. Helping in any capacity always made her feel good, but doing it for people who wouldn’t have had any help without her made her feel even better.
She gulped a swig of water. “What made you come to San Cristóbal?”
“I needed to get out of the states for awhile.”
“Oh.”
Jack looked over the table at her. “I was at a gem festival in this small town, and I thought I saw someone I knew, and it made me feel like I needed to start a different chapter in my life.”
She swallowed. A gem festival?
“I tried to apply for a missionary team, but they wanted me to fly, and I’m not ready for that yet.”
Keep the conversation neutral, Raylyn. “So you decided to be a carpenter?”
“Yes, just one of my many talents.”
“I know the people of Chiapas could use someone with that skill.”
“As they can use good nurses.”
The compliments felt good, but it was as if they masked a much deeper conversation she knew they were meant to have in the future.
He cleared his throat and stood before carrying his dish to the sink. She noted the limp in his step. The work had taken a toll on his leg; there was no mistaking it.
Raylyn gathered the rest of the dishes and followed him. He ran water and added soap. A radio sat on top of the cabinet, and he reached over and switched it on. The sweet sounds of Mexican guitar music drifted over the airwaves.
As he washed the dishes, he swayed his shoulders and hips. Raylyn stood beside him and mimicked his movements. He drew his hands from the soapy water, stepped back, and spun. When he stopped, he touched her nose. She giggled as she swiped at the bubbles, and he wrapped one arm around her waist.
They twirled around the room as the stringed music filled the air. He released her, enacted some fancy footwork, and she clapped. He bowed before wrapping his arms back around her.
The song ended. Her heart raced, and her face felt flushed. “You’re a good dancer.”
He smiled. “Thank you.” He returned to the sink, his hips still swaying as he cleaned the last utensil.
Raylyn forced herself to look away from his lithe frame and his perfectly formed bum. He lowered the music volume and faced her.
“I guess I should go. I need to sleep tonight.” He toweled his hands dry.
“You didn’t sleep well?” Raylyn fought the urge to ask if it had had anything to do with her.
“No.”
Before she could stop herself, she’d asked, “Why?”
He approached slowly. They stood inches apart. He lifted a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
She gulped.
He released the strand, gathered his jacket over his arm, and sauntered toward the front door. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her throat constricted. All she could manage was a nod as the door closed behind him.
Chapter Fourteen
The next couple of weeks passed in a blur. Jack developed a routine. Every day he and Manuel worked on some rundown house or building. Every afternoon he spent in his room praying, wishing, hoping Raylyn would invite him into her home once more.
Since that day they’d danced in her apartment, he hadn’t seen her except at worship service. The rest of the time she worked at the clinic or sat alone in her apartment. At least, he assumed she'd been alone. The thought of someone being with her caused cold chills to race along his spine.
Market day in the town center had enabled Jack to stock up on supplies. He shifted through the food cabinet. Nothing held appeal. He grabbed his coat and entered the courtyard. Lights shone from Raylyn’s apartment, and he considered knocking on her door. As he approached, he heard the sounds of male laughter, and he stopped. So she wasn’t alone.
Hands shoved into his pockets, he left and strolled toward the city center. The Christians who lived in the ghetto considered the center of town a violent place. Manuel had encouraged him to stay away from the area, and definitely not to visit at night or alone. Today he was breaking all the rules.
He stood on a street corner. A procession marched past. They wore pointed hoods and carried large boards with religious figures. They stopped at homes and said prayers and blessings, erecting a small shrine before they left.
Passersby joined the demonstration. An elderly man clutched his forearm. “You come. We go to the inner shrine and you eat.”
Jack declined, but the man insisted and drew Jack along. They stopped at a large open plaza. A group of people enacted the Passion Play. In the center of the crowd, a man hung on a cross.
Horrified by the realistic sight, Jack fought his urge to watch and failed. Actors displayed the entire crucifixion. The play ended, and the people disbanded. The elderly man had disappeared in the throng, and Jack was left alone.
Closing his eyes, he tried to erase the vivid imagery. The death of one so innocent brought back other deaths he’d witnessed…
The radio crackled. “We’re taking heavy fire. Where is Jack with that chopper?”
Jack spoke into the mike on his headset. “Bravo Charlie Company, this is Red Leader coming your way. Hold tight and make a place.”
“Jack, where are you! We need you now. We can’t wait.”
His messages weren’t getting through! The headset smacked the opposite seat as he pushed the stick forward and increased his speed.
Smoke curled and rose. Jack’s heart hammered against his chest. He wasn’t going to make it in time. The radio had gone silent. Gunfire struck the side of the helicopter, and Jack corrected his course. He needed to get closer.
He hovered over the ground, hidden behind the gray wisps of dying fires. When the smoke cleared, the ground looked dark brown with a reddish stream flowing along the cracked earth. The ground was littered with his friends.
A clearing appeared, and he lowered the chopper. Grass swayed beneath him. He was close, so close…
A church bell tolled, and Jack squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. His heart pounded against his chest, and sweat beaded his brow.
He blinked. Fake blood covered the landscape. He swallowed and pushed off the stump he’d used as a seat. Distracted by his memories, he placed his hands in his pockets and continued to the market. Stalls offered a variety of food items. Not being picky or thoughtful in his purchases, he bought a bag of fresh fruit. Nothing else held appeal.
Sack in hand, he returned to the ghetto. He hoped to run into Manuel, but he wasn’t around. Jack placed his grocery bag on the terra-cotta tile of the courtyard and settled on the edge
of the stone fountain.
Raylyn’s door opened, and Alfonzo exited. A frown covered his face as he approached Jack.
He wanted to be gracious and not give the doctor an attitude, but he couldn’t help it. In a sarcastic tone, he asked, “Did you have a nice evening?”
The doctor seemed stunned and stuttered. “Y-yes. And you?”
“I did. I walked to the city center.”
Alfonzo frowned.
“I saw an interesting sight. A parade of people wearing pointed hats led me to a play depicting Jesus on the cross.”
Alfonzo’s expression changed, and he seemed to relax. “Ah, yes. I meant to mention that this is Holy Week. During this time, the city will have many processions and plays. At the end there will be a fireworks show. You can also see the Feria de la Primavera y la Paz, the Spring and Peace Fair.”
Elbows on his knees, Jack leaned forward with genuine curiosity. “Do you attend these festivals?”
“Some of us go, but not as a group.”
“And am I allowed to go?”
“Of course. You are not a prisoner, señor. The things we tell you and warn you against are for your safety, nothing more.”
Jack couldn’t help but goad the doctor. “And what of Raylyn’s safety? Are you thinking about her?”
“I think of her probably more than I should,” he said, staring longingly at Raylyn’s door.
Jack fisted his hands to his side. “I see.”
Alfonzo raked his hand through his thick hair. “I know I should not. She is temporary, as are all Americans. She does not love my country as I do. She is here to help as a Christian. When she feels she has accomplished this, she will move on.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Jack held his breath as he waited for Alfonzo’s answer.
“Then I will consider more.”
Jack nodded, and his heart clenched.
Alfonzo said, “Good night, señor.”
“Good night,” replied Jack.
Emerald Street Page 8
