by Lexy Timms
He threw the phone into the backseat. This particular car was meant for two. Small. Sleek. Mel had barely gotten in before he’d slammed the gearshift and shot out of the parking lot, heading for the freeway. Mel’s grip on the door handle turned her knuckles white, but she said nothing.
They drove in silence.
Think about Maria. Brant schooled himself, keeping the car under the speed limit with certain effort. This is all for her anyway. Concentrate on that, on her. On the smile you can restore. Maria’s still counting on you, still needs you. Forget everything else. Maria still needs you.
Brant swung the car onto the freeway with practiced ease. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mel frowning in fierce concentration.
Probably trying to remember the route for next time.
Like there’d be a next time. He could send someone to fetch her car. No reason to go back to that office ever again, for either of them.
“You said something about a series of surgeries over time…” Mel said after a few minutes. Her eyes were forward, on the road. Her tone neutral. Businesslike. Professional.
Brant nodded. If she wanted to play that game, he could, too. “It’s probably going to take three or four, possibly five before it’s done,” he said, thinking through what he’d written in his notes regarding the case. “And she has to heal between operations. It’s what I told you back when we first talked about all this. It could take up to a year, maybe more.”
“She can’t stay here for a year, Brant.” It was an old argument. He’d felt a year abroad would be good for Maria. He would put her in school. Give her a chance at an education she would never get at home.
She’d argued that it was too expensive. The girl’s family would feel beholden to him. It wouldn’t be right.
He sighed. “No, she can heal at home. Come back when it’s time.”
“I can’t stay here either,” Mel said to the dashboard. “I have a job, responsibilities.”
Responsibilities. They’d planned on her taking a long furlough. She’d had vacation owed to her. For Maria to at least spend the summer there, healing, and then have the second surgery done before she returned to Belize.
Brant shifted lanes and hit the gas. “What are you saying?” His tone was wary. Uneasy.
“You’re busy, I can see that. Hell, I haven’t been here two days and you’ve been in the office most of both days. All those people lined up to see you…” Mel closed her eyes. “I’m not here to interrupt your life, Brant. I never wanted that.”
Brant hit the brakes just in time to avoid slamming into a truck. “Interrupt? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” He could feel Mel flinch. Knew what that close call had just cost him. He took a steadying breath. Put more attention on the road.
“Look. Maria’s safe, you’re busy; it’s time for me to get to my patients, too. Besides, if I’m there and you’re here, we can head off Kenneth’s bloodthirsty reporters, and whatever funding campaign he’s got going. You can keep them from Maria, and I can keep them from her family.”
Brant was speechless. He opened his mouth, but no divinely-inspired words magically formed. All he could do was shake his head, let his hand fall on the steering wheel, and close his mouth again.
“Isn’t this the exit?” Mel asked.
Dammit! It was.
“BRANT!” Mel screamed as he perfectly executed a three-lane-to-exit change and then shot her a look to see why she’d sunk her fingernails into the dash.
“So, you’re just going to leave? Walk out on Maria?” He pulled to a stop at the light off the exit. He turned to her. “What the hell happened that was so dire that you would abandon that child? What was so earth- shattering that you would run out on me?”
Mel sat in silence.
Brant waited for an answer.
“The light changed,” Mel whispered.
Brant let out a lungful of air and pulled himself back around to stare forward. He followed the traffic around to the right; the two of them sat in silence for the rest of the trip.
“She’s in Room 519,” Brant said as he dropped her off at the entrance. Mel didn’t wait for him, but stalked into the hospital. Brant threw his keys at the valet and scrambled to catch up.
At least Maria will be happy to see me if no one else will.
He had no idea what the hell had just happened.
Chapter 12
“I want to go home!” Maria insisted again.
Instead of finding her comfortable in her private room watching TV and eating bonbons, or whatever it was that Brant thought she’d be doing, he and Mel walked into the room more or less together and found the girl primly propped on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, with her suitcase close beside her.
“Maria, what’s…” Brant wasn’t sure if it was he or Mel who began to speak, but it made no difference, as the sweet, kind, affable girl exploded right in front of them.
“I WANT TO GO HOME!” she screamed, and threw the suitcase onto the floor. The worn catch on the ancient piece of baggage gave way, sending clothing and oddments in all directions. “NOW! NOW! NOW!” Maria pounded the bed with her fists and kicked out, overturning an empty tray table, the very picture of a temper tantrum one would expect from a child half Maria’s age.
From a pre-teen, this whole thing was becoming rather dangerous.
Brant and Mel simultaneously threw themselves at the girl, getting in each other’s way. Mel finally won the day and engulfed the girl in a hug that served the purpose of both marginally calming Maria and limiting the path of destruction. Brant hit the nurse-call button and backed away to give them both some room.
A nurse’s voice came over the speaker as the first of the medical staff, likely alerted by the sound, skidded to a halt in the doorway. The first nurse eyed the destruction, the weeping child, and turned to leave, speaking to someone out of sight in the hallway.
Brant started toward the gathering storm. Damage control. She gets hugs and I get damage control.
“MARIA!” Mel was having trouble getting the child to stop sobbing long enough to get any real information out of her. She looked helplessly at Brant over Maria’s head, her hand tangled in the child’s hair, rocking her back and forth with all the tenderness of mother with child. “What happened?”
“Les bastardos!” Maria balled her fists, and suddenly the storm broke. The frantic sobs gave way to something deeper. They were so heavy and so unexpected, Brant assumed that she’d been holding them in for a very long time. He turned to the nurse to ask what the hell happened, and found that she’d disappeared.
“I am not estupido!” Maria was sobbing, gasping for breath between the cries that wracked her body. What little air managed to get into her lungs, she was expelling to force out each word, choking on the syllables, managing more Spanish than English. To be honest, to Brant it was a wonder she was remembering to translate at all at this point.
“Mi madre…” It was at this point that Brant’s limited command of Spanish failed him.
The girl fired out a string of invectives, and flailed her arms like she was fighting off an invasion of mosquitos.
At least he supposed they were invectives. Nice words were never spat like that. There was a certain rhythm and tone to that kind of swearing that was universal, and Brant flinched even without knowing the content.
Mel, on the other hand, went pale and wide-eyed. Working as she did in the jungle he supposed she’d picked up a rather colorful vocabulary from the locals, but never expected to hear it used so skillfully by such a young child. They spoke together in Spanish—he didn’t understand a word.
Had it not been heartbreaking, the whole situation might have been laughable.
Mel had the girl in her arms, rubbing her back and making nonsensical sounds. The murmured promises that every mother makes that the world would be okay again somehow.
Even when it wouldn’t.
And in that moment, Brant forgot the stupid, senseless argument in the car and loved her more than ever.
And wondered what it would be like to see her hold their own child in that way.
But this wasn’t the time for daydreams. Mel looked over the girl’s head at him, and met his eyes. Her own were bright with unshed tears, and the expression in her face was frightening.
Brant shrugged helplessly, hands outstretched, wanting to demand the answers, feeling the rage growing in him that this precious child should be made to cry this way. “What happened?” He mouthed the words, not wanting to disturb the tableau.
“Three men came in here while you—we—were away. They interviewed her, took pictures. One of them called her an idiot for rescuing a man who beat her…”
“He did no beat me!” Maria wailed into Mel’s chest. Her little fists bobbed up and down, as though curiously unable how to function when balled up like that. “He was a good man!” She choked back a sob, burying her face so that Brant couldn’t see her. Her words came back muffled. “Bebió demasiado!”
“She said he drank too much, but she calls him a good man. The people who interviewed her called her a fool for trying to rescue him. They said some vicious things about her mother. They…they took pictures of her injuries…”
Brant wasn’t breathing.
“They asked…they asked about you, Brant. They asked about…about her, why she and I staying at your place…they insinuated things…”
Brant spun and slammed through the door, calling for the head nurse on duty.
The head nurse was already standing in the hallway, right outside the doorway. Waiting for him.
“There were three men,” he said through gritted teeth, “who barged into the room where my patient was waiting and ran her over like a steam roller. When I dropped her off here, I asked for security; I was trying to keep her safe.” Brant was spitting out the words.
“Doctor.” The nurse drew herself up, nearly six feet of solid training. Forearms, that looked like they could pick up a car, crossed with a certain amount of defiance across her ample chest. If her tone wasn’t cold enough to freeze his rage, the quelling look she gave him would have. “This floor has 300 patients; this WARD has 70. I have orderlies and nurses. If you want a security force, then I suggest you hire one. I do not have the time, resources, manpower, or the inclination to run a high-security outfit on this ward or any other. If you knew that this was a possibility, then dumping your problems on a handful of over-worked, under-paid, medical staff is the stupidest thing you could’ve done!”
Brant’s anger hadn’t cooled, but the words the woman fired back at him were, in every regard, completely true. He silently nodded and took a deep breath. And apologized.
“I’ll make a call,” he said quietly, eyeing the staff who hadn’t really made themselves absent in this crisis, and were eavesdropping shamelessly. “Is it possible to acquire a chair for the hallway? There will be a 24/7 guard on the ward beginning immediately.” He eyed an orderly who had refolded the same sheet on a laundry cart at least three times since he’d stepped into the hallway. “I trust this will not be too inconvenient for your staff?”
The orderly blushed and moved the cart down the hallway, wheels squeaking against the linoleum.
“Doctor.” The head leaned in slightly. Her nametag on a lanyard bumped against his arm. Shawanna. The nurse’s name was Shawanna. “That is one of the brightest, sweetest children I’ve ever met. I don’t give a damn if my staff have to tiptoe in ballet shoes past her door, I’ll make sure it’s done. I can’t provide security check points, but I can damn sure provide for the one who can.”
She meant it, too.
“I was being protective,” Brant admitted, running a hand through his hair, feeling more than a little sheepish. “But I was protecting her from all the wrong people. I’m sorry.”
Shawanna smiled, her grin lighting up her whole face. “On the other hand, you find these people and you let me know. I will be happy to give each one of them a hot-coffee enema.”
Brant smiled despite himself and thanked her, realizing that they could easily become friends, and wished he’d started off on a better foot. A moment later, he stood alone in the hallway and breathed as deeply as he could, pulling the air into his lungs and reminding himself that the enemy was long gone.
“Doctor?” a voice asked behind him.
Brant turned to see the nurse who’d run into the room when the tray flew and then disappeared. She was a petite thing, young and pretty, with dark skin and bleached hair cropped close to her skull. He’d seen her on the floor before, and had found her to be very intelligent. He was glad to see her, to know that she had been the first to show up when Maria needed help. “Yes? Kayla, isn’t it?”
“Jayla, sir.” She seemed uneasy, darting a quick look at the nurses’ desk not far away. Shawanna sat at a computer, head bent, typing something. Another nurse moved past with a tray. She waited until they were alone to continue. Her voice was little more than a whisper. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I don’t want to…I mean, I can’t…I need this job and I like working here, but…”
Brant got the idea. He drew her into the room next to Maria’s, one that was thankfully empty for the time being, bed made up neatly, waiting for the next patient. “What is it?” Brant hoped it sounded kinder to her than it did to him. It was still a hard day and he sounded rough, even to him.
Jayla spoke fast, fidgeting. Wanting to get out of there before she was seen talking to him, he guessed. “There were two men, Doctor. One was a photographer, the other was a journalist, or reporter or something.”
Brant frowned. “Maria said there were three…”
“Yes…” The nurse’s face was study in pain. Whatever her secret was it weighed heavily on her. and she looked very scared. “The other…the third man…he was Mr. Winters.”
Brant drew a blank and his mind ran through a list of people who would match that name. “Mr.” and not “Dr.” Winters…Winters…then it hit him like a bucket of ice water. Winters.
“The hospital director? That Winters?”
“Yes, Doctor. He…I was in the room taking vitals and…well, chatting…” she admitted with a furtive glance again at the door, in the direction the head nurse had gone. “I mean, not too long, she’s such a great kid, you know…I…he…he ordered me out of the room, Doctor. He forced me to leave and told me to ‘watch the door’ so they wouldn’t be disturbed.”
Winters? Brant remembered him from some useless function. A dinner of some sort. The man liked throwing his weight around, which was considerable. Acting the bigshot. He liked his name in the papers.
Brant blinked, not liking where this was going. Winters only played the big games. This had gone beyond a little story for some gossip rag, and just turned into a Dateline Special. “And where is the administrator’s office?” he asked a little too nicely. Her head came around, quick, and she gave him a look, equal parts satisfaction and pure terror.
“Third floor, west wing, Doctor. Doctor…” You could see it in her eyes. Much as she wanted to help Maria, she had her own family to protect. She wasn’t married, he remembered. Had a kid or two. “Please, I don’t want to lose this job, but I can’t just let…”
“I’ll keep your name out of this,” Brant assured her. “I can promise you that. Besides, I don’t see a lot of idle talking taking place once I find him. Thank you.” He meant that very sincerely. “Thank you very much for telling me.”
“You’re welcome, Doctor.” Jayla let out a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing noticeably. Her smile came back. It was a nice smile. “For what it’s worth, I’ll, I mean, I’d like to check in on Maria and make sure she’s okay? I’m off duty, but if it’s okay…I have a little girl her age. I wouldn’t want her to be alone, so far from home…”
Alone. It hurt. He should have been here, instead of grandstanding at the office. Mel had been right to be mad.
Brant took a deep breath of his own and nodded. “I think she’d like to have a friend here.”
Jayla fled, the model of an
efficient nurse again, now that her conscience had been appeased. In telling Brant, she could let it go. It was his problem now.
A problem he really didn’t mind taking on.
Maybe the blind rage was past. But some things…well, some wrongs were just meant to be righted. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this slide by. Maria was under his care. His protection. He’d already fucked this up once today.
He wasn’t going to fuck it up again.
He couldn’t see his reflection, there were no mirrors in the hallway, but judging from the way people opened a swath of room before him he figured he had blood in the eye. He made it all the way to the elevator before he realized his fists were clenched.
I keep this up, people are going to think I have anger issues.
Not that he cared.
Chapter 13
“Jayla!” Maria welcomed the nurse, with outstretched arms for a hug and a smile that wavered only a little bit.
Mel let out a shaky breath, glad to see the storm was past. Or at least was on the point of waning. Jayla seemed just as delighted to see the girl, and quietly told Mel that since she was off duty she could stay awhile if she wanted to take a moment to grab a cup a coffee. Nurse-speak for “Go pull yourself together.”
Mel suspected she looked as much of a mess as Maria did.
Today had felt nearly impossible. There were hard days in the jungle, but the emotional rollercoaster of today was exhausting. Mel had held Maria while she cried, comforting her. It was tough enough to lose a parent, but to be called a fool for trying to save your own father, regardless of his foolishness…the whole thing was horrific. Just seeing the poor girl in so much pain had brought Mel to tears right alongside her. Only Mel couldn’t cry pretty to save her life, so she knew her face was blotchy and red. She probably had salt lines running down from her nose that she didn’t even want to think about.
Thankfully the sadness hadn’t sidetracked Mel for too long. As she’d held Maria, comforted her, she’d passed through shock, then anger, and then into something colder, something that seethed in her breast. As Maria cried herself out, and then descended into sobbing hiccups where she’d told Mel over and over in two languages that she had good parents, and that she was a good girl, Mel had been biding her time.
