“I couldn’t take that chance. Regardless of the way I forced your cooperation, I really do need you there.”
“You need a nurse,” she corrected. “Not necessarily me.”
“The nurse I need is you.” He leaned forward. “I’m not looking forward to flying for obvious reasons and I’d travel another way, if I could. Unfortunately, my other choices aren’t practical or timely. With you beside me, though, I can get on that plane.” He paused. “If I hadn’t been coming home—to you—I doubt if anyone could have forced me to board the last one.”
She’d never considered how difficult his return must have been. No doubt every noise had had him thinking the worst. “Oh, Gabe.”
“The point is, we have both seen how working with a common purpose builds a team, which is what I want for us. I’m hoping we can accomplish it, but…” He hesitated. “If you truly refuse to join me, I won’t stop you.”
His offer startled her. “You’d let me stay behind?”
“Yes. According to what I heard this morning, they have a tremendous amount of critically ill children, especially infants. It won’t be easy on you.”
She didn’t know if she should be grateful for his understanding or affronted by the implication that she would be too affected to do her job. More importantly, though, knowing they had so many sick young patients and a shortage of nurses, how could she refuse and still be able to sleep at night? Besides, he had apologized and explained his motivations, misguided though they’d been.
If he’d been so desperate to fix their marriage that he’d resorted to blackmail, then he wasn’t simply giving lip service to the idea.
“All right, I’ll go.” Seeing his suddenly broad smile, she added, “Someone has to make sure you don’t overdo it.”
“Thanks. You won’t regret it.”
She already did, not because she didn’t want to help those people but because Gabe was obviously expecting more from her than she could give. “I’d better start packing.”
He caught up to her before she reached the bottom step. “This could be the thing our relationship needs.”
She stared at him with a sad smile. “It might also be the thing that breaks us.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
LEAH accompanied Gabe onto the tarmac with mixed emotions. From a medical standpoint she wanted to be a member of his team, but from a personal standpoint she was afraid. He believed working together would foster teamwork and cooperation, and it could. However, it could promote dissension just as easily. This would be a stressful three days for both of them and stress didn’t usually bring out the best in people.
Maybe this trip would be a game-changer for their relationship, but if it changed for the worse, it was better they learned it now, rather than later.
However, her thoughts of what might or might not happen faded as soon as she saw how Gabe struggled to climb on board the plane. He drew a deep breath, braced his shoulders and squared his jaw before he finally ducked through the doorway. His hands shook as he buckled his seat belt and on the strength of his reaction she wondered how he’d been able to fly home immediately after his accident.
Helping him cope became her top priority. Throughout the entire flight she held his hand and chatted about everything and anything, asking question after question about Ciuflores. If he noticed she repeated herself, he didn’t comment.
Sheldon and Ben, their other team member, obviously anticipated Gabe’s reaction, too, because when she was at a loss for words, they took up the slack. The two men kept up a steady stream of chatter through their headsets in a not-sosubtle effort to divert his attention from their position high above ground.
“Try to get some sleep,” she advised.
He shot her an are-you-crazy look, but dutifully closed his eyes.
Luckily, the trip went without incident. As soon as the wheels touched down on the level patch of ground that constituted the small airstrip outside Ciuflores, the look of relief sweeping over Gabe’s face told how agonizing this trip had been to him. She had to admit to a grudging respect for a man who faced his fears in order to help a friend…
“Thanks for being here,” he said simply.
“I’m glad I could help.” And she was, she realized. He’d needed her, which thrilled her to the point where she was almost glad she hadn’t stayed at home.
Hating the slight tremor in his hands, she kissed his cheek. “Enough lollygagging,” she said cheerfully. “It’s time to go to work.”
As she’d suspected, facing his mission and fulfilling his purpose for being there did wonders for his composure. He squared his shoulders and began issuing orders to Sheldon, Ben and Corey Walsh, their pilot, as he opened the door and exited the plane.
Leah stepped outside the new twin-engined Cessna and was immediately struck by the humidity and the earthy aroma. Flowering trees lined the eastern edge of the clearing, which probably accounted for the floral scent she detected. A hint of something more unpleasant—like the community dump—drifted in from the north, but the thick foliage hid it from view.
A man wearing jeans, a casual shirt and a clerical collar rushed to greet them.
“David!” Gabe exclaimed as he hugged the tall fellow, confirming the priest’s identity as Father Odell, Gabe’s old classmate who’d established this mission church some seven years earlier. “It’s good to see you.”
In his late thirties, David had light brown hair and crow’sfeet around his eyes, and his skin was tanned from the Mexican sun. He also looked tired but, as Gabe had explained on the plane, David not only ministered to the spiritual needs of the area but also was the director of the only orphanage in the vicinity.
The idea of running across so many parentless children had troubled her, especially as this was the first mention of a local orphans’ home, but if Gabe could face his fear of flying, she could deal with the children if it became necessary. She had to because by then she couldn’t walk out with the plane at ten thousand feet.
“The feeling is mutual,” he answered. “When we heard about your plane crash, I said a lot of masses on your behalf. Then, when you phoned, I could hardly believe our prayers had been answered.”
“That makes two of us, David, but with a man of your spiritual pull on my side, how could it have turned out any other way?” he joked.
“All things considered, I didn’t expect you to fly here yourself,” David chided gently.
“I wouldn’t have for anyone except you,” Gabe said.
“I’m glad you decided to get back on the horse that threw you, although I wish you’d come under better circumstances.”
“Me, too. By the way, this is my wife, Leah.”
It was obvious the two were close friends. “Father,” she said as she shook his hand. “Gabe has told me so much about you.”
“Now, that’s a scary thought,” the priest teased. “But, please, call me David. What are titles among friends?” He turned back to Gabe. “I assume you brought the supplies Hector requested?”
“And then some,” Gabe told him. “If you have a few strong backs, we can start unloading.”
David waved forward a group of men standing near the edge of the field. In no time at all the cargo had been moved from the plane to the waiting trucks and they were bouncing their way into town.
Leah clung to Gabe and hoped she’d still have teeth and eardrums when they finally reached their destination.
“Still no shocks on this beast?” Gabe yelled over the noisy muffler.
David grinned. “Why bother with shock absorbers? They’d just wear out. Honestly, though, think of this as nothing more than a free carnival ride.”
Because it was futile to talk, the rest of their short trip passed without conversation. Ten minutes later, they reached Ciuflores.
The village’s poverty was painfully evident by the dirt-packed streets and ramshackle houses. Grass had long since given up its struggle to survive, although a small patch appeared every now and then. Chickens a
nd dogs roamed freely through the town and goats remained tethered to their owners’ yards. What surprised her most was seeing only one person and he had tied a handkerchief over his nose and mouth, bank-robber style.
“Where is everybody?” Gabe asked the same question Leah had on her mind.
“They’re staying at home,” David explained. “Normally, this is a bustling time of day but with the flu hitting so hard, most aren’t venturing out for anything except basic necessities. We’re following all precautions but the situation has gotten worse since I called you.”
“And your kids?”
Concern spread across David’s face. “They fall into three groups. Those who are recovering, those who are currently sick, and those who will probably show symptoms before long. We’ve also lost four to pneumonia. Because an illness like this spreads through group homes like wildfire, we’ve sent the sick ones to the hospital to try and contain the illness. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough resources to care for everyone, which was why I called you.”
He pointed ahead. “This is our clinic, Leah, which we only have because of your husband’s generosity.”
“And your arm-twisting,” Gabe added.
David chuckled. “That, too.”
The whitewashed building was unassuming and boxlike, in contrast to the graceful Spanish architecture of the neighboring church. Yet even if she hadn’t noticed the simple sign in front that read “Clínica”, it was obvious this was an important building in the community because of the satellite dish perched on the flat roof like an oversize bird.
Inside, four patient wards, which had been designed to hold five patients each, held double that number. Of those, nearly every bed contained a child. One of the rooms was filled with cribs and padded boxes to accommodate the littlest. A few had IV poles standing beside their beds. Some were coughing, some crying, and some were too ill to do either.
In the last room, Dr. Hector Aznar was sitting on a young boy’s bed, listening to his lungs. As soon as the nurse beside him murmured in his ear, he looked in their direction and a relieved smile suddenly grew on his face.
“Gabriel, welcome,” he said as he approached and shook his hand effusively. “You are a sight to see.” He launched into Spanish, which Leah couldn’t follow.
Hector seemed to be at least ten years younger than Gabe, but his eyes reflected wisdom and experience that went beyond his years.
As the two men talked, presumably touching on Gabe’s accident because Leah understood a few words, she studied her surroundings. One woman in uniform who was obviously a nurse from the way she checked IV bags and listened to lung sounds cared for the twelve toddlers and infants. A few other adults—probably parents—sponged little bodies, held cups and cuddled those who needed cuddling.
“Gabriel says you are a nurse, no?” Hector asked her in his thick accent.
“I am,” Leah answered, anticipating his request.
“Good. Any assistance you can give us will be appreciated. Our girls are, shall we say, exhausted.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said simply. “What strain of influenza are you dealing with?”
He shrugged. “We have not tested anyone, but the ministry of health tells us it is most likely H1N1 Influenza A. Regardless of what name we use, we are fighting an uphill battle. Now that you are here, we can hope to turn the tide, yes?”
“Yes,” she said. “Are you the only physician on duty?”
“My partner, Miguel Diego, is here, too, but now that you have arrived, he hopes to travel to the towns we normally visit once a month. Those people are probably in the same dire straits we are but sadly there are more of them than of us.”
“Then you have a large caseload,” she remarked.
Hector nodded briskly. “Larger than we can adequately care for, but we do our best. Your husband has been what you would call our guardian angel.”
Leah stole a glance at her husband. The local physician’s praise had brought a tinge of pink to Gabe’s face as he grinned sheepishly at her.
Suddenly, all those hours when she’d begrudged his work made her feel extremely small and petty. It was one thing to know her husband’s charity made a difference in the lives of so many people and quite another to actually see the difference with her own eyes.
Hector spoke rapid-fire Spanish and eventually Gabe nodded before he translated.
“Here’s the deal,” he began. “Ben, because you’re a pediatrician, he would like you to evaluate every child here, starting with the most ill. According to Hector, pneumonia is a real problem so we have to start the IV antibiotics ASAP. The nurses speak English fairly well so you should be okay on your own, but if you run into problems, let me know.”
“Okay, but don’t wander away too far,” Ben said as he shrugged on a gown that Hector provided. “My Spanish is so rusty I could ask for a blood-pressure cuff and get an enema.”
Gabe grinned. “Yeah, well, do your best.”
As Ben strode off to begin, Leah asked, “Did we bring the IV supplies for—?”
“Pediatric infusion sets are being unpacked as we speak. As soon as we get a handle on the hospitalized, you and I are going on house calls while Hector covers the walk-in cases.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think we’re going to accomplish all that today?”
He grinned boyishly, looking far more energized than she’d expected, considering his emotionally and physically stressful journey. She was feeling overwhelmed and she’d slept on the plane for a few hours, whereas Gabe had hardly closed his eyes. “Welcome to my world.”
After one of the nurses shyly identified herself as Elena, she steered Leah to her first patient—a three-year-old girl who cried fitfully but sucked greedily on the bottle Elena handed her.
“It is electrolyte drink. She is not as sick as others but now you are here, she will have IV, too. If you would sponge her down, please?”
Leah saw how the little girl lacked the strength to hold her own bottle. Immediately, she sat in the nearby chair, cradled the child in her arms and held the bottle. As the child relaxed against her, she brushed away the sweat-dampened dark curls from her forehead.
“Where are her parents?” she asked Elena, who was wringing out a wet rag in a nearby basin of iced water.
“At home with their other children,” she answered, handing the cloth to Leah. “They are sick, too, but not as sick as Sofita.” She stared down at Leah and smiled. “She rests. Good. When bottle está vacío, go to next.”
At the rate Sofita was guzzling the fluid, it wouldn’t take long for her to finish. In the meantime, Leah propped the drink against her chest and held it in place with the same arm she’d crooked around the child’s head. With her right hand, she ran the cool cloth over her face and arms.
The small sigh of obvious pleasure and the twitch of a smile were all the thanks Leah needed.
A short time later, she gently laid the toddler in her crib. After washing her hands, she moved to the next patient, as Elena had instructed. The Spanish nurse had placed IV sets in or near every bed, and with her help they began inserting the lines into tiny veins. Most of the children were too ill to give more than a token protest, which threatened Leah’s composure more than once. As soon as they had the fluids and antibiotics running, she gave each one a bottle, a cuddle and a cooling sponge bath.
Time didn’t matter. Caring for these kids did.
Finally, she reached a five-year-old boy who was so severely dehydrated she couldn’t raise a vein. When he hardly flinched at her failed attempts, she knew she was in trouble.
“How’s it going?” Gabe asked. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said, frustrated. “He’s so dehydrated I can’t start his IV. I’ve tried twice and I can’t poke him again. I was hoping you’d try.”
“Okay.” Gabe took her place on the bed and began his search for a suitable site. When he’d succeeded and the IV fluid dripp
ed at a steady pace, Leah wanted to cheer.
“Are you ready for a break?” he asked.
She stared at him, horrified by his suggestion. “I’m not finished. I still have IVs to start and—”
“This is the last one,” he told her gently. “See?”
She finally glanced around the room and, sure enough, an IV bag hung near every bed.
“But I haven’t cuddled this one yet,” she said. “Or bathed him, or—”
“I will do that, Señora Montgomery,” Elena came up to say. “We have done well. Go with your husband.”
“But you’ve worked longer than I have.”
“Go.” Elena tugged her away from the bed. “I will sit as I watch Felipe.”
“Come on, Leah,” Gabe coaxed. “You won’t be much of use if you wear yourself out on the first day.”
Reluctantly, she followed him. “Where are we going?”
“To eat,” he said, leading her past the patient areas to an average-sized room that served as Hector’s office and staff lounge. There, two covered plates of food were waiting, along with a pot of rich black coffee.
“Hmm,” Gabe said, sniffing the air and whipping the napkins off the plates. “This smells like Carlotta’s cooking. She makes the best tamales, beans and rice.” His hand froze and a thoughtful expression crossed his face.
“Carlotta? Is this the woman you suspect has pancreatic cancer? The one who cares for her three grandchildren?”
“Yes.”
“If she’s in the kitchen, maybe she isn’t as ill as you thought.”
“Maybe. When I have a minute, I’ll find out.”
At first, Leah thought she was too keyed up to eat, but the delightful aroma convinced her otherwise. She tasted the beans while Gabe poured two mugs of coffee.
“Has everyone else eaten?” she asked as he rejoined her at the table for four.
“I assume so. We took the last two places.”
“Is it always like this when you visit a place?” she asked.
“The experience is never quite the same,” he said. “We’ve conducted clinics before and treated a lot more people, but never this many seriously ill cases at once.”
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