by Robin Gianna
Her door opened and her heart gave an irritating little kick of anticipation that it just might be his blue eyes she’d see when she looked up.
But it was John Adams standing there. “Any word yet on the funding for another teacher?”
She smiled and waved a paper. “Got the green light. I’m sending the final forms today, and they said we should get a check in about a month. Is the woman you’ve been training going to work out?”
“Yes, most definitely.” He dramatically slapped a hand to his barrel chest. “She is smart and beautiful and I am in love with her. Thanks to God I can officially offer her a job.”
“You’re starting to remind me of ladies’ man Dr Dalton. No mixing business with pleasure.” A flush filled her cheeks as soon as the words were out of her mouth, since she’d done exactly that, and the pleasure had been all too spectacular.
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “Anyway, I also stopped to tell you to come look at our little patient this morning.”
“What little patient?”
“Lionel. The one with appendicitis and the hemangioma—or who used to have a hemangioma. You won’t believe what Trent’s done with it.”
Alarm made Charlie’s heart jerk in her chest. She’d worried from the moment she’d agreed to let Trent take care of such a delicate procedure. Had he messed it up? She’d checked on the child a couple of times, but a patch had still covered his eye. “What do you mean? Is it going to have to be redone when we get a plastic surgeon in here?”
“Just come and see.”
She rose and followed him to the hospital ward, her fears eased a bit by John Adams’s relaxed and smiling expression. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she might have made a big mistake.
Lionel’s head was turned towards his mother, who sat by his bedside, and Charlie found herself holding her breath as they came to stand beside him.
“Show Miss Charlotte how well you’re seeing today, Lionel,” John Adams said.
The boy turned his head and she stared in disbelief.
The patch had been removed and, considering he’d had surgery only days before, he looked shockingly, amazingly normal.
The angry red bulge that had been the vascular tumor was gone. His eyebrow and eyelid, other than still being bruised and slightly swollen from surgery, looked like any other child’s. His big, brown eye, wide and lit with joy, was now completely visible, just like his other one.
“Oh, my. Lionel, you look wonderful!” She pressed her hands to her chest. “Can you see out of that eye?”
“I can see! Yes, I can! And Mommy show me in the mirror how handsome I look!”
“You even more handsome than your brothers now, boyo, and I told them so,” his mother said with a wide smile.
Tears stung Charlie’s eyes as she lifted her gaze to the child’s mother and saw so many emotions on the woman’s face: happiness; profound relief; deep gratitude.
All because of Trent.
Where was the man? Had he seen the amazing result of his work? She turned to a smiling John Adams. “Has Dr Dalton seen him since the patch was removed?”
“Oh, yes. He took it off himself this morning.”
“Dr. Dalton told me he gave me special powers, too, like Superman.” The child’s face radiated excitement. “Said I have x-ray vision now.”
His mother laughed. “Yes, but Dr. Dalton was just joking and you know it. Don’t be going and telling everyone that, or they’ll expect you to see through walls.”
“I can see so good, I bet I can see through walls. I bet I can.”
“Maybe you’ll become a doctor, Superman, who can see people’s bones before you operate.” Trent’s voice vibrated into the room from behind Charlie’s back. “That would be pretty cool.”
“I want to be a doctor like you. I want to fix people like you do, Dr. Trent.”
Trent’s smile deepened as he came to stand next to Charlie. “That’s a good goal, Lionel. If you study hard in school, I bet you can do anything you set your mind to.”
Charlie stared at Trent, looking so relaxed, like all this was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t to him, but it was to her, and to Lionel and to his mother. A very, very big deal.
“I can’t believe the wonderful job you did,” she said, resting her hand on his forearm. “You told me I didn’t know who I was dealing with and you were sure right.”
“Now she learns this, just before I’m ready to leave.”
The twinkle in his eyes, and his beautifully shaped lips curved into that smile, were practically irresistible. She again was thankful that he would be heading out of her life very soon before she made a complete fool of herself. “Good thing you don’t have x-ray vision too. Hate to think what you’d use it for.”
“Checking for broken bones, of course.” His smile widened. “What else?”
She wasn’t going where her mind immediately went. “Probably to decipher a bank-vault combination, so you could go on vacation without working a solid year. Speaking of which, the GPC says a general surgeon should be here in a matter of days, so you can have them schedule your flight out of here soon.”
“Great.”
The relief on his face was obvious and she hated that it hurt a tiny bit to see it. “I can’t help but wonder, though, why are you working as a general surgeon when you can do things like this?”
His smile faded. “You think plastic surgery has more value? More than saving someone’s life? I don’t.”
“It’s a different kind of value: changing lives; changing the way someone is viewed, the way they view themselves. You have an obvious gift for this, a skill many would envy.” Did he not see how important all that was? “Your focus should be on plastic surgery. On helping people that way.”
“The way other people view a person, what they expect them to be and who they expect them to be, shouldn’t have anything to do with how they view themselves.” He took a step back and pulled his arm away from her touch. She hadn’t known those eyes of his were capable of becoming the chilly blue that stared back at her. “Excuse me, I have a few other patients to check on.”
She frowned as she watched him walk through the hospital ward. What had she said to make him mad?
“I have things to do too,” John Adams said. But, like her, his gaze followed Trent, his expression thoughtful. “Bye, Lionel. See you later, Charlie.”
“Okay. Listen, can you come have dinner tonight at my house? I’d like to talk to you about some things.”
He nodded and headed off. Charlie watched Trent examining another patient and could only hope John Adams came up with a good idea for how she could accomplish her newest goal—which was to encourage Trent to perform surgery on a few patients in the day or two he’d still be here, patients who’d needed reconstructive surgery long before the plastic surgery wing had even been conceived.
She knew how desperately some of these people needed to have their lives changed in that way. Not to mention that it wouldn’t hurt for her to have a few “before and after” photos that would impress the Gilchrist Foundation with what they were already accomplishing. And, really, how could Trent object?
As she headed back to her office, her cell phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket. “Charlotte Edwards.”
“Hey, Charlie! It’s Colleen. How’re things going with Trent Dalton?”
“With Trent?” What the heck? Did the gossip vine go all the way to GPC headquarters? Besides, nobody here knew she and Trent had briefly hooked up...did they? “What do you mean?”
“Is it working out that he came back until the new temp gets there?”
Phew. Thank heavens she really didn’t have to answer the first question, though their moment together was history anyway. “He’s doing a good job, but I know he wants to move on. Do you have a final arri
val date for the new doc?”
“Perry Cantwell has agreed to come and we’re finalizing his travel plans. Should be any day now.” Her voice got lower, conspiratorial. “Just tell me. I’ve seen photos of Trent that make me salivate, but is he really as hunky as everyone says? Whenever I talk to him on the phone his voice makes me feel all tingly.”
If just his voice made Colleen feel tingly, Charlie hated to think what would happen if she saw him in person. She wasn’t about to confess to Colleen that, despite his reputation, she’d fallen into bed with him for one more than memorable night. While she felt embarrassed about that now, she still couldn’t regret it, despite unexpectedly having to work with him again. “He’s all right. If you like tall, good-looking surgeons who flirt with every woman in sight and think everything’s amusing.”
“Mmm. Sounds good to me if the surgeon in question has beautiful black hair and gorgeous eyes.” The sound of a long sigh came through the phone and Charlie shook her head. She supposed she should feel smug that über-attractive Trent had wanted to spend a night with her. But, since he likely had a woman in every port, that didn’t necessarily say much about her personal sex appeal. “I actually have his new release papers on my desk to send out today. Are you going to hit on him before he leaves?” Colleen asked. “Might be a fun diversion for a couple days.”
Been there, done that. And, yes, it had been—very fun. Keeping it strictly professional now, though, was the agreed goal. “I’ve got tons to do with the new wing opening any time now. And my dad called to say he’s coming some time soon to see how things are going with that.”
“Actually, I have some bad news about the new wing, I’m afraid.” Colleen’s voice went from light to serious in an instant.
Her heart jerked. “What bad news?”
“You know David Devor, the plastic surgeon we had lined up to work there?” Colleen asked. “He has a family emergency and can’t come until it’s resolved, which could be quite a while.”
“Are you kidding me? You know I have to have someone here next week, Colleen! The Gilchrist Foundation made it clear we won’t get the funding we need until I have at least one plastic surgeon on site.”
“I know. I’m doing the best I can. But I’m having a hard time finding a plastic surgeon who wants to work in the field. I’m turning over every rock I can, but I can’t promise anybody will be there until Dr. Devor is available. Sorry.”
Lord, this was a disaster! Charlie swiped her hand across her forehead. The hospital was scarily deep in the red from getting the new wing built. It had to be opened pronto.
“Okay.” She sucked in a calming breath. “But I have to have a plastic surgeon, like now.”
“I know, but I just told you—”
“Listen. I need you to hold off a day or two before you send Trent’s release papers. Give me time to talk to him about maybe staying on here. If he agrees, you can send Perry Cantwell somewhere else.”
There was a long silence on the phone before Colleen spoke. “Why? Cantwell’s expecting to come soon. And I can’t just hold Trent’s paperwork. He’s already filled in for you twice and is way overdue for his vacation. I don’t get it.”
“I found out Trent’s a plastic surgeon, not just a general surgeon.” She gulped and forged on. “If Devor can’t be here, I have to keep Trent here at least long enough to get the wing open and the funding in my hand. Otherwise I won’t be able to pay the bank, and who knows what’ll happen?”
“Maybe he’ll agree to stay.”
“Maybe. Hopefully.” But she doubted he would. Hadn’t he made it more than clear that he wanted to head out ASAP? The only reason he’d come back for a few days was because of how sick Lionel had been. “All I’m asking is for you to hang onto his release papers until I can talk to him.”
“Charlie.” Colleen’s voice was strained. “You’re one of my best friends. Heck, you got me this job! But you’re asking me to do something unethical here.”
“Of course I don’t want you to do anything you feel is unethical.” This was her problem, not Colleen’s, and it wouldn’t be right to put her friend in the middle of it. “Just send them out tomorrow instead of today, address them to me and I’ll make sure he gets them. That will give me time to contact the Gilchrist Foundation and see if they’ll make an exception on their requirements before the donation check is sent. If they won’t, I’ll try to get their representative to come right now while Trent’s still here. I’m pretty sure the guy is close—somewhere in West Africa. I’ll go from there.”
Colleen’s resigned sigh was very different from the one when she’d been swooning over Trent earlier. “All right. I’ll wait until tomorrow to send the release papers and finalize Perry’s travel plans to give you time to talk to Trent. But that’s it.”
“Thanks, Colleen. You’re the best.” Charlie tried to feel relieved but the enormity of the problem twisted her gut. “Hopefully they’ll send the funding check even if we don’t have a plastic surgeon here yet and we’ll be out of the woods. I’ll keep you posted.”
The second she hung up, she searched for the Gilchrist Foundation’s number. What would she do if they flat out said the conditions of the contract had to be met, which would probably be their response? Or if they couldn’t send their representative here immediately? If the GPC couldn’t find a plastic surgeon to come in any reasonable period of time, the whole hospital could fold. Every dollar of the GPC’s funding, and all the other donations she’d managed to round up, had been spent renovating the nearly destroyed building, buying expensive equipment and hiring all the nurses, techs and other employees needed to run the place. And the money she’d borrowed to build the new wing was already racking up interest charges.
Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she straightened in her seat. The end justified the means. The hospital absolutely could not close and the plastic surgery wing had to open. It had to be there to help all the people who had horrible, disfiguring injuries left from the war. It had to help all the kids living with congenital deformities, like cleft palates, which they’d never have had to live with if they’d been born somewhere else. Somewhere with the kind of healthcare access she was determined to offer.
If the Gilchrist Foundation insisted on sticking with the contract stipulations, she had no choice but somehow to make sure Trent stayed on until the money was in her hand.
CHAPTER SIX
TRENT HAD BEEN relieved that Charlotte wasn’t in the hospital commons for dinner. He hadn’t wanted to make small talk with her while pretending he didn’t feel insulted by her words.
The book he tried to read didn’t hold his attention, and he paced in the sparse little bedroom until he couldn’t take the confinement anymore. He headed into the humid, oppressive air and strode down the edges of the road, avoiding the muddy ruts as best he could.
When he’d first met Charlotte, he’d been impressed with her enthusiastic commitment to this place, to her vision of what she wanted it to become. And, as they’d spent time together, she’d seemed interested in his life. She’d asked smart and genuine questions, and he’d found himself opening up, just a little—sharing a few stories he usually kept to himself, nearly talking to her about things he just plain didn’t talk about.
But, when it came right down to it, she was like anyone else: a woman who questioned who he was and why he did what he did. Who didn’t particularly care what he wanted from his own life. Had she asked him why he didn’t do plastic surgery exclusively? Expressed any interest in his reasons?
No. She’d just made the same snap judgment others had made. She’d told him what he should do, convinced she knew. Exactly like the woman in his life he’d trusted completely to have his back, to know him, to care.
A trust he’d never give again.
It was disappointing as hell. Then again, maybe this was a good thing. Maybe it
would help him feel less drawn to her.
He needed to see this as a positive, not a negative. And, when he left in just a day or two, maybe the peculiar closeness he felt to her would be gone. He’d leave and hope to hell his world would be back to normal.
He kept walking, not having any particular destination in mind, just feeling like he didn’t want to go back to that room and smother, but not wanting to chit-chat with people in the hospital either. Maybe he should call up a buddy on the phone, one of the fraternity of mission doctors who understood his life and why he did what he did. They always made him laugh and put any personal troubles in perspective.
As he pulled his cell from his pocket, he noticed a light up ahead. Had he somehow got turned around? He peered through the darkness and realized he was practically at Charlotte’s doorstep. Had his damned stupid feet unconsciously brought him here because he’d been thinking of her so intently?
About to turn off on a different path, he was surprised to see little Patience bound out the door, holding a rope with a tiny puppy attached, bringing it down the porch steps. It sniffed around before doing its business, and Trent wanted to laugh at the look of distaste on the little girl’s face as she picked up a trowel from the steps.
He didn’t want to scare her by appearing out of nowhere in the darkness. “You have a new dog, Patience? When did you get it?”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Hi, Mr. Trent! Yes, Daddy got me another doggie. After my poor Rex was killed by that ugly, wild dog, I been asking and asking. He finally said yes, and my friends at the school like having her to play with too.”
“What’s its name?”
“Lucky—cos I’m lucky to have her. Except for this part.” The look of distaste returned, replacing the excitement as she gripped the trowel. “I promised Daddy I would do everything to take care of her.”
