by Ronica Black
She had a lot of questions for him that needed answers and she fussed at herself for not being able to recall more of the Spanish she’d learned during her summer volunteering in the region the year before. She should’ve taken the time away from work to refresh and learn more Spanish before she’d come.
She asked him the one important question that she could. She asked him his name.
He said it was Alberto.
She told him hers and he seemed pleased even as he struggled to say it. He had trouble pronouncing the B and the L together. It made them both laugh.
Sloane returned with the water and the medical bag. Blake took his temperature and his pulse. She listened to his breathing and took a closer look at the swelling and redness around his wound, still mindful not to touch him yet. When she was satisfied with her examination, she cleaned and disinfected her hands with Sloane’s assistance. Then she pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and prepared Alberto’s hand, readying him for the thorough cleaning of his wound.
“This is going to hurt and I don’t know how to tell him that,” she said to Sloane as she was looking at her patient. McKenna joined them and as she took in the scene, her empathy was already apparent.
“What can we do?” she asked.
Blake pressed her lips together. “His wound appears to be infected. It’s also quite deep so it’s going to hurt when I clean it and stitch it up. I would like to be able to tell him that and make sure that this is something he wants me to do.”
She tried again to speak to him in Spanish, but he answered her in broken English, saying he didn’t understand.
Sloane said she’d be right back, but Blake hardly noticed. She was busy searching her brain for additional Spanish vocabulary, but she came up empty. McKenna transferred Alberto’s blankets and cases to the patio and then returned and sat next to him. She spoke to him softly in English and held his free hand in an attempt to comfort him, something Blake had seen her do numerous times throughout the years when they’d come across someone needing assistance. He stared at both of them, spoke to them in Spanish and then stopped suddenly as he seemed to realize it was pointless. His eyes filled with tears, and Blake had never felt so helpless and frustrated in her life.
Chapter Fourteen
Blake heard someone approaching and Alberto’s face lit up as he looked over her shoulder. Sloane rejoined them, a little breathless, and for a second, Blake couldn’t figure out why Alberto was so happy to see her. But then someone came to stand at her other side, and Blake knew without having to look who it was. Her insides tightened at the sound of her voice.
“Hola, Alberto.”
Blake looked up at Cam in surprise.
She knows him?
Of course she does. Cam lived there. She must see him all the time.
Alberto’s sudden happiness now made sense.
He gave Cam a huge smile. “Hola, Santi. Como estas?”
Cam answered him in Spanish and the two of them briefly laughed. Then she looked at Blake and pointed at the space next to her on the lounge.
“May I?”
If you must.
But Blake merely shrugged, making sure to show the apathy she did not feel. “Sure.”
Cam sat and Blake tensed slightly as Cam’s body lightly pressed against hers. Ignoring her was the best and only option Blake had. The warmth of her bare skin, however, along with that tantalizing scent Blake recalled from that very first morning, made ignoring her an almost hysterical alternative to even consider.
The memory of her wearing that short, body-clinging satin robe soon added to the mix.
Cam spoke to her, breaking her thoughts. “Sloane said you need my help? To help Alberto?”
Blake analyzed her words expecting to have heard at least a hint of sarcasm. She felt oddly disappointed when she concluded there wasn’t any.
“He has a bad cut on his hand, and I need to communicate with him in order to help him.”
Cam studied her for a long moment, as if she, too, were doing her own analyzing. She focused on Blake’s gloved hands as she responded.
“What do you need to know?”
“I need to know, number one, if he’s okay with me helping him. If he’s okay with me cleaning his wound.”
Cam relayed the question and Alberto nodded. “Sí, por favor.”
“He’s okay with that. Very grateful.”
“Great,” Blake said, nodding back at Alberto.
Cam started to stand. “So, if that’s all you need—”
“That’s not all I need,” Blake said quickly, agitated at her attempt to hastily exit. She didn’t want Cam there either, but she needed her, and more importantly, Alberto needed her. How could she just up and walk away?
“He said he’s fine with you tending to him,” Cam said. “You can go ahead and bandage him up or whatever it is you’re going to do with your first aid skills.”
Blake blinked at her.
Huh?
“You obviously have a first aid kit or supplies of some sort.”
Blake continued to stare, and her confusion must’ve been evident because Cam tried to explain further. “You have the gloves and stuff.”
“Yes,” Blake said.
“Then that’s all you need.”
She was searching Blake’s face and Blake would’ve gladly offered her the answers she was seeking if she knew what the hell it was she was looking for in the first place.
“Oh, do you need more? I can go get mine if you need extra supplies.”
“What, a first aid kit?”
“Yes,” Cam said as if she hadn’t been paying attention. “That’s what you need, right? So, you can do your little first aid thing?”
Was Cam messing with her, trying to piss her off by undermining her skills as a physician? Blake opened her mouth to let her know just how it was she felt about that, but she thought of Alberto and steadied her anger. “He needs a lot more than simple first aid treatment. His wound is deep and infected and it needs to be thoroughly cleaned and sutured. And then he needs to be treated with antibiotics.”
Panic, or something that appeared close to it, came over Cam’s face. “Then he needs a doctor. I need to get him to town.” She tried to stand again, but McKenna reached out and touched her arm.
“Cam, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. He needs—”
“Blake can handle it,” Sloane said.
Cam gave a short laugh. “No offense, but I don’t think she can.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Blake let out.
“Oh, my God.” Sloane palmed her forehead.
McKenna stood, obviously worried about the escalating scenario.
She grabbed Cam by the shoulders as she stood. “Cam, listen.”
“No, I’ve heard enough. He needs a—”
“Cam—”
“Blake is a doctor,” Sloane let out.
Cam froze. She looked first at Sloane and then back to McKenna. She swallowed. “What?”
“She can handle this. She can help your friend,” McKenna said.
Blake then took her turn at looking at her two friends. “She didn’t know? I thought you told her all about me?”
“A doctor?” Cam sounded as lost and confused as Alberto apparently was.
“Kenna?” Blake said.
She wouldn’t meet her gaze. Kept staring at the ground.
“I may have left that part out of the conversation,” Sloane said.
Cam spoke, her gaze fixed on Sloane. “You told me she was a workaholic. A high-strung overachiever. That she needed a vacation almost as badly as she needed a woman. You never said she was a doctor.”
“What?” Blake felt her mouth fall open.
“Oh, my God,” McKenna said again, rubbing her temple.
“Everyone just calm down,” Sloane nearly shouted.
They fell silent and Sloane tried to control the situation by saying more, but Blake had had enough.
“S
loane, shush. You and Kenna go inside, please. Cam, you stay. Alberto is our main priority right now and we’re supposed to be helping him. Not sitting here fighting like a bunch of lunatics.” She looked at her friends. “Now. Get a move on. I have work to do.”
Sloane and McKenna seemed reluctant to leave, but they slowly walked back to the house. Blake kicked things into an efficient high gear and asked Cam to sit and translate. She asked about his appetite. He said he hadn’t wanted much since the day before, having very little to eat or drink. He felt weak and fatigued. He also had a headache. Blake explained that she thought he had the beginnings of an infection and therefore needed to clean his wound thoroughly and suture the cut. She told him it would hurt but that he needed to do his best to remain still. He gave his final approval without hesitation.
The procedure was painful and he cried out a couple of times and winced. But Cam, who’d moved to sit next to him, held fast to him, soothing him with her words. She seemed to be as kind and empathetic as McKenna, which surprised Blake a little. She was aware of the close bond Cam seemed to have with her friends by seeing her interact with Tomas, but she hadn’t been privy to this nurturing side. It warmed her heart and she almost smiled. But then she reminded herself that Cam had been continuously rude to her. She couldn’t excuse that just because she was kind to others. Could she? Should she?
She continued to question that as she finished cleaning the cut. By the time she was ready to stitch him up, the mood between the two of them had changed dramatically.
Cam was calm, soft-spoken, and thus far had been keenly interested in Blake’s every move.
Blake, too, had calmed, but she was used to pushing her feelings aside to take charge and focus solely on what needed to be done during traumatic situations. Even so, she knew Cam’s change in demeanor had influenced hers, more than she’d like to admit. Even Alberto seemed to have settled, though Blake suspected that was due to exhaustion. Whatever the reason, he sat quietly as she sutured him, only wincing and speaking a few times before she was finished.
He gave her a tired smile when she was done and Blake insisted he rest and recline back in the chair as she went inside to retrieve a vial of antibiotics from the fridge. An emergency supply of medication, along with her medical bag, were things she was sure to bring with her when appropriate. Given this trip and their rather rural location, she’d been sure to bring extra of everything.
“He’s asleep,” Cam said with a serene smile when Blake returned.
Blake touched his face with the back of her fingers. “He’s beat.” She looked back at Cam and found her staring at her. She realized she was still only wearing her bikini top and shorts. Any other time she would’ve blushed under such close scrutiny, but under the heaviness of Cam’s stare she felt differently. She felt…a little thrill. A little rush of excitement at the notion that Cam might be admiring her.
“Can you open his shirt?” she asked Cam, breaking the moment. “So I can get to his upper arm?”
Cam knelt over him to unsnap his shirt. She then eased it away from his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open as Cam informed him of the coming injection. Blake pulled on a new pair of gloves, cleaned a small patch of skin and then gave him the shot. He smiled up at them, but his exhaustion was apparent and soon he was sleeping once again.
“Will he be okay?” Cam asked.
Blake sat next to her and peeled off her gloves. “His wound is infected, but not as badly as I feared. The swelling is probably from a combination of the infection and the way in which he sustained the injury. The redness is minimal and hasn’t spread. But…”
“But?” Cam said, searching her face once again.
“He has a mild fever.”
“That worries you?”
“A little, yes. His other symptoms could be due to the infection, but I don’t believe they are. I think it’s mostly dehydration and I’m hoping he will feel a lot better once he’s properly hydrated. But to be safe, I’d like to keep an eye on him for the next few hours to be sure.”
“He’s been walking for hours in the heat without eating or drinking. With an infection brewing,” Cam said, shaking her head, her sorrow for him obviously consuming her.
“As badly as he feels, I’m surprised he didn’t stop for the day hours ago.”
“He doesn’t know any different,” Cam said. “Walking beaches, selling his goods is what he does all day, every day. The thought of quitting probably never crossed his mind.”
The lingering breeze came off the sea as the tide was pulling out once again. Blake shivered and rubbed her arms. Cam saw her hugging herself and she moved slightly, lifting her hand toward Blake as if she were going to draw her close but then stopped.
“You should go change into warmer clothes.”
“I’m more concerned with him,” Blake said, watching him sleep. “Does he live nearby? Do you think his family would mind if I stayed with him a while?”
“I’m not sure where he stays, but I know it’s not close. He gets a ride in from somewhere near town and then, if he’s lucky, finds a ride back. If not, he settles down in the dunes for the night.”
Blake grew alarmed. “He sleeps in the sand?”
“Sometimes.”
“And no one helps?”
“No one knows. The only reason I do is because I saw him walking through the dunes on my way home one evening. I tried to get him to come back to my place for some food and a roof over his head, but he declined, said he liked to sleep in the dunes. So, I gave him what I had with me in my Jeep and watched him walk away.”
“What about tonight? Do you think he’ll stay and let us help?”
“He’s tired, so he won’t be able to put up much of a fight.” Cam knelt over him again and gently shook him. When he opened his eyes, she spoke to him and then helped him sit up and stand. She draped his good arm over her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Blake asked.
“I’m taking him to my place, where he can rest. Whether he likes it or not.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cam carried the glass of wine into the living room and handed it to Blake, who was sitting quietly on the sofa, her body turned to stare out at the dark beach through the window.
“Mm, thanks,” she said as she took the refilled glass.
“Are you warm enough?” Cam asked, settling in on the other side of the sofa. The fire was putting off some good heat now. She hoped it was enough to keep both Blake and Alberto warm.
Blake sipped her drink. “Mm. This is so good. I had no idea you were into wine.” She eyed the coffee mug Cam was drinking from. “Do you ever enjoy any or are you just a collector?”
Cam returned the mug to the table next to her. “I drink it. Otherwise I wouldn’t bother chilling it.” She nodded toward Blake’s glass of chilled Chardonnay.
Cam expected her to snap back at her, offended.
She laughed. “Smart-ass.” She took another sip and made another noise of approval. “What is this?”
“A Chardonnay.”
“I know that.”
“That’s a 2017, Rombauer Chardonnay.”
Blake seemed to be impressed. “A very nice, rather costly bottle of wine if I’m not mistaken.”
Cam shrugged. “Cost isn’t something I worry a great deal about.”
“This is, what, a three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine? And that’s not something you worry about? You must not drink very often.”
“It wasn’t quite three hundred and you’re mistaken about how often I drink.”
She laughed softly. “Dare I ask how often?”
Cam met her gaze. “Nightly.”
She looked surprised. “You drink wine this expensive every night?”
“Like I said, I don’t pay much mind to cost. What I do care about is whether or not it’s good. But to answer your question more directly, yes, I have wine every evening, but no, I don’t think about what it cost.”
“If you enjoy it that much, then why are
n’t you having any tonight?”
Cam hadn’t expected to be asked that and it took her a moment to figure out how to answer.
“I’m worried about Alberto. I want to keep a clear head.” It was the truth, just not the complete truth. The real reason why she wanted to keep a clear head was sitting across from her on the couch, drinking her Chardonnay. She didn’t want to risk doing or saying anything foolish.
Blake seemed to accept that explanation. She gazed down at Bo. He was draped next to her, his head in her lap while Bingo lay on the floor in front of her. That left Byron, Cam’s ever faithful companion. He wasn’t currently snuggled up to Blake, but that wasn’t because he didn’t want to be. He just couldn’t seem to shove aside his brothers to get to her. He came up to Cam and rested his chin in her lap, pouting. She stroked his head.
“I don’t feel sorry for you at all. I know the only reason you’re here giving me those sad eyes is because you can’t get to her. I know I’m now chopped liver.”
“Does it really bother you?” Blake asked. “That the dogs like me so much?”
It was another unexpected question and Cam glanced over at her as she considered her response. The sight of her sitting on her couch, in a simple long-sleeved shirt and a pair of blue jeans, all cuddled up with her dogs, stirred Cam so powerfully she tried to make herself look away. But the firelight was breathing upon her face and setting off sparks in her eyes. The fact that her presence alone seemed to be threatening the tranquility of her home and the careful construction of her emotional ambivalence couldn’t win against the way she looked at that moment.
To Cam it looked like, felt like…she belonged there.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”
Cam moved her gaze from Blake to Alberto, fearing Blake had seen too much in her eyes. Alberto was snoring softly in the chair by the fireplace, covered by one of his colorful hand-made blankets. But looking at him didn’t help Cam much because she recalled the kind, gentle way Blake had been with him. Watching her with him made Cam realize that Blake had a heart after all. Another reason why her presence was a threat to the life Cam now knew.
Thank God I’m not drinking.
