by Barbara Lohr
After they finished eating, McKenna’s body slumped onto him. Even though she added to his own body heat, he didn’t mind. In fact, he relished her curves and quickly fell asleep, his head resting on hers. Some time later the sound of grinding brakes startled him awake. The van had stopped.
“El Limar,” Juan announced with a flourish, as if this were Palm Beach and they were on tour. The old man made Logan smile. Beside him, McKenna gave a sinuous stretch, pulled away and peered out the window. Rubbing her eyes, she shot him a sleepy smile. The doors slapped open with a rusty screech.
“Home, sweet home…for a week,” Selena announced, jumping down from the bus.
In front of them sat a low adobe building that may once have been yellow. Now the paint was peeling. The long wooden bench in front of the building was warped, one end held up by cinder bricks. McKenna massaged her neck while Logan tried to work the kinks out of his long frame as they stood in the crowded aisle.
She nodded toward the low structure. “That’s the clinic. And the bunk house.”
He figured as much. “Let me take your duffle.”
“Absolutely not.” She hoisted what looked like a heavy bag onto one shoulder. “Down here, it’s every woman—and man—for himself.”
“Is that a warning?”
“Just the way it is.” She stood in the narrow aisle looking like a woman who could take on the world.
“Do you ever let a man help you?”
A shadow passed over her face and, damn, he regretted those words. “Didn’t mean anything by that, McKenna. Just a thought.”
“And I hear it.” The frown stayed on her face.
When had hot and sweaty ever turned him on? With McKenna, the combination became an aphrodisiac.
After grabbing his own bag, he ducked his head and followed her down the aisle. The hum of insects filled the air as he eased down the steps, along with periodic cries of some bird, a lonely sound that chilled him despite the heat.
“Thank you, Juan.” McKenna turned to the bus driver. “See you tomorrow?”
“Si, si.” And then he pointed to Logan. “Come with me, no?”
So, that’s how it was? Logan glanced back at McKenna, who fluttered her hands, pushing him toward the old man. Well, that question was answered. So they wouldn’t be bunking together. His concentration level might improve.
When the others filtered into the bunkhouse that also served as their clinic, Teresa bustled over. “Logan, I thought you could sleep with Juan.” Her shoulders pulled up as if she were defending the honor of the women. In some ways, Teresa reminded him of his grandmother.
“No problem.” Sleeping near McKenna may have tested his patience at a time when he needed his sleep. He had to have his wits about him this week. With a regretful backward glance, Logan grabbed his bag from the back of the van and followed Juan down the road. The image of McKenna standing in the doorway stayed with him all night.
Chapter 14
The next day, the tantalizing smell of coffee pulled McKenna awake. Stiff from a night in a hammock, she slipped on her sandals and headed outside to the latrine.
“Feels almost like home,” joked Sherry Barry, waiting in front of her.
“Right.” In the early morning dampness, McKenna’s gray sleep pants and T-shirt felt like a second skin.
Profound stillness surrounded them as early morning light crept through the dense undergrowth. When they returned to the sleeping area, Teresa was bustling about in the kitchen corner with her quiet competence. Logan hadn’t arrived yet. Or had he bolted and asked Juan to take him back to the airport? Her stomach turned over as she unhooked the hammock from the ceiling. Logan was made of stronger stuff than that and this week could provide proof.
“Patients are already lined up outside the door,” Teresa told them.
McKenna wasn’t surprised. The need was so great in the highlands. Midwives or comadronas took care of general health for the women and children. The people here were mostly Mayan, indigenous to this area. Sadly, they were not always welcome in city hospitals, even if they could make the trip. Often skilled in herbal remedies, they sometimes needed modern medicines that could make a life or death difference.
Fortified by coffee, McKenna quickly consulted with Selena.
“Juan has gone back to Guatemala City to pick up the boxes of equipment and pharmaceuticals,” Selena explained. “If patients need medications, they will have to wait.”
“Did Logan go with him?”
Selena frowned. “No, Juan can handle it himself.”
“Of course.” McKenna shook off her qualms. She’d come here to help, not to evaluate Logan’s abilities to work in a less than sterile setting. This was stupid. Why did this matter so much to her? But it did.
Yawning, Logan wandered into the clinic. “Did you have something to eat?” McKenna asked.
“Yep. Had a couple of the packaged meals I brought with me.” Logan looked rumpled but alert. A worn blue T-shirt outlined his broad chest, and faded jeans were slung low on his hips. The pungent smell of his new leather boots filled the small room. When she glanced up, he was grinning. “Did I do good, Mom?”
Her cheeks flamed. “Teresa has coffee.”
“Good. Smells great in here.”
That determined jut of his chin? Logan was in the game. Teresa beckoned to him with a tin mug of coffee.
After a quick breakfast of warm beans and cold cornbread, they converted the sleeping area into private exam cubicles with sheeting strung from the hooks that had held the hammocks, now bundled into corners. Midwives would arrive midweek for a training session.
“Do I have any volunteers to go about two or three hours farther up into the highlands?” Selena asked. “Teresa tells me that an older ladrona could use some help training other women to take her place. How about it?”
Hands shot into the air, and two of the women prepared to leave. McKenna, Selena and Logan would stay in El Limar with Sherry, the nutritionist, and the four remaining midwives.
The day started. With Teresa’s help, women filed into their makeshift exam rooms while their children played out front. In addition to checking pregnant women, the group of clinicians was also dealing with problems resulting from inadequate care in the hospital. In one morning, McKenna sent two of the women to Logan to repair a poor episiotomy. One young woman’s C-section incision had not healed and her baby was three months old. Vaginal tears, fistulas, incontinence—by the time they broke for a quick lunch, McKenna’s stomach was churning. Troubled, she sought out Teresa for an explanation. “Teresa, I’ve got to ask…why are so many women going to the hospital for delivery if the care is so poor?”
Teresa's face twisted with disgust. “Criminal, no? Most hospitals will not allow midwives. But if anything happens with that delivery, of course it's blamed on the ladrona.”
Frustration choked McKenna. She grabbed another cup of coffee. Eyeing the closed curtain of Logan’s cubicle, she hung around like a mother waiting for her child to come out of kindergarten on the first day. His patient emerged with a grateful smile before Logan stepped out. His shirt rode up when he stretched, and she enjoyed the view. “Everything okay?’
“Fine.” He followed her eyes and she yanked her gaze north. “See anything you like?”
“What if someone heard you?” she whispered, glancing at the curtained cubicle.
“I think they’d get a good laugh. The proper Dr. Castle.”
So he knew what the staff thought of him. A dozen denials leapt to mind, but they died on her lips. They wouldn’t be true.
He chuckled, studying her face. “How about you? Good so far?”
“This is pretty much what I expected.”
Logan had never looked sexier, leaning on one shoulder against the cinderblock. “Guess I didn’t have many expectations,” he finally admitted, jaw shifting. “I’m new to all this. Kind of taking it all in. Tell you one thing. Don’t think I’ve ever had patients more grateful than these ladies. I
t’s humbling, McKenna.”
“I agree.” Heart lifting, she wanted to hug the man. His eyes danced, almost as if he knew what was running through her mind. But time to get back to work. Another patient was following Teresa back to McKenna’s cubicle.
By early afternoon, the sun had climbed high in the sky. Heat rose in puffs of dirt on the road outside. The desultory cry of birds pierced the drone of insects. With flat straw hats jammed on their heads, women waited outside, some holding a serape over their small children to protect them from the sun. Inside, moisture beaded on the cinder block walls, evidence of the last rain.
Although McKenna couldn’t see Logan, his calm voice drifted over the white sheeting. At times, she thought she detected an edge of frustration, but it was the situation, not the women that frayed his patience. One glance told her that much when he burst from his cubicle, looking for more bandaging. They merely nodded to each other. So much work ahead, and the people had come so far.
The parade of maladies always took a toll, but McKenna’s heart positively tore when dainty Ana Lena stepped into her cubicle. Perching timidly on the edge of the cot, the young woman held a large baby with a startling shock of dark hair. From the way she sat, McKenna knew she was far from comfortable.
“Hay dolor? Pain?” McKenna asked.
“Si. Mucho.” With halting words, Ana Lena explained about her three-day labor and the difficulty delivering her son. “Pepito es tan largo.”
Indeed, Pepito was a very big baby. If he was twenty-two pounds now, he must have been a good fifteen when he entered the world. Panicked when the baby hadn’t arrived after two days of hard labor, her husband had carried Ana Lena for three hours until they reached the city. McKenna could only imagine that trip.
Teresa came to take Pepito while McKenna examined Ana Lena. As she murmured reassurance to the younger woman, McKenna struggled to keep her face from reflecting the horror ripping through her. Ana Lena should have been given a C-section. Instead, the young mother’s entire pelvic floor had been damaged. McKenna didn’t need a pediatric specialist to know that the child with his sunny smile and empty eyes had been affected by the hours of slamming against Ana Lena’s pubic bone. Under usual conditions, a C-section would have been done but they had waited too long in an area not served by a ladrona and the hospital was so far away.
Dark eyes shadowed by too many disappointments, Ana Lena looked to her for some sign of hope. McKenna smiled encouragement. “Hay un doctor con nosotros.”
Ana Lena shrank back, no doubt thinking of the doctor who did this to her.
“Un momento,” McKenna told her, holding up one finger. “Y no te preocupes.” Telling Ana Lena not to worry was useless. Her unremitting pain was a constant reminder.
McKenna sought out Logan. Hunched over in his cubicle, he was scribbling on a pad of paper. No electronic medical records here. Seeing McKenna, he tossed the pad onto the cot. “This is no way to chart patient care.”
Was Logan reaching his limits? Struggling past her own worries, she explained the situation.
“Sure, I’ll take a look,” he said, grabbing the antibacterial gel and scrubbing. He snapped up two surgical gloves from the box. “Couldn’t be any worse than the fistula I just saw.”
But it was. She could see that by his clenched jaw as he examined Ana Lena. Slowly and gently, he asked questions, nodding encouragement through her sad tale. Then with McKenna’s help, Logan told her how he could help. The poor young mother may not totally have understood Logan’s words but there was no misinterpreting the compassion in his eyes. Tomorrow he would perform surgery. Janet Johnson, one of their midwives, had once been a surgical nurse, so she would assist.
“I’ll be there too,” McKenna assured Ana Lena, who turned to her with big dark eyes.
Teresa called for Logan and they had no chance to discuss the case further.
The day spun on, one case after another, often presenting a longstanding ailment that had worsened over years. Proud and resilient, the villagers relied on herbal treatments learned in childhood, but some health issues did not respond. Many problems had become critical by the time the villagers made their way to the clinic.
McKenna’s back and neck began to ache, along with her thighs. The cots were low, and she was still tired from the long trip. As the heat climbed, the humidity pressed over them like a warm sponge. Her scrubs clung to her body, and ringlets were teased from her pigtails no matter how often she brushed them back. Still, the women’s patience and gratitude kept her going.
Later in the day, she found Logan in the kitchen, foraging through the cabinets.
“What are you looking for?”
“Sterile wipes.” Hair mussed, he looked incredible. Felt totally inappropriate to think of him this way under these circumstances, but there it was. Yanking a warped drawer open, she handed him a pack. “Please level with me. Can you help Ana Lena?”
Expelling a tight breath, he propped a hip against the counter. “The entire perineum needs reconstruction, but I think I can repair it. It’s worse than anything I’ve seen in the states. I’d just like to meet the butcher who did this to her.” A muscle worked in his jaw.
Teresa was making her rounds. “Hay una problema?”
McKenna shook her head. “Dr. Castle and I were just discussing a patient.”
In her faded blue skirt and colorful woven top, Teresa stood stolid in her huaraches, pushing back wisps of gray hair. “Por favor, do not become discouraged. The work you do here…es muy precioso.” Almost like a blessing, she placed both her hands over Logan’s.
“I only hope it's enough.” With an angry hitch of one shoulder, Logan turned to go back to work.
Watching him disappear behind the white sheet, she whispered to Teresa, “He'll be fine.”
“Your novio is a good man.” When Teresa smiled, deep lines radiated from her brown eyes.
“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“No?” Teresa’s wise eyes told McKenna she didn’t believe her.
Any further denial stuck in McKenna’s throat. She didn’t know what Logan was to her. With every patient he treated, her protective barriers weakened, leaving an uncomfortable vulnerability.
Teresa brought in another young mother with worried eyes. “Buenos dias,” McKenna greeted her, seeing the eyes clear. “Como estas?”
When shadows lengthened, Teresa turned on three stark light bulbs that served the area. A patient had just left and McKenna stretched, feeling the tight knots in her back resist. Her eyes stung and rubbing them didn’t help. Outside the clinic door, villagers still stood patiently, feeding their children with food kept in their serapes.
Finally, Teresa called a halt, stepping outside to explain that they would be seen tomorrow. The patients quietly dispersed. “Where will they go?” McKenna asked.
“The people of this village will take them in. Or they can stay in the church.” Teresa pointed up the road, past the mothers who leaned in doorways. The tiny mud-yellow church had quickly become the recovery area for any women having minor procedures. Then her face lightened. “Juan has returned with the supplies. Can you help unload them while I prepare food?”
“Of course.” Together with Logan, Selena and Sherry Barry, McKenna lugged the boxes into the back room and began to organize the medical supplies. The aroma of cooking food soon filled the air. “I'm starving,” she murmured, her stomach growling.
“Double that.” Logan’s arm brushed hers while they were filling a cabinet with wipes, bandages and ointments.
How twisted was it that she could be wildly attracted to a guy who smelled like he’d spent the day in the gym? McKenna swallowed hard and ran her hands down her wrinkled scrub pants. Didn’t matter if he was a mess, Chicago’s Hot Doc had never looked more gorgeous. His hair was lined with sweat ridges from combing it back with his fingers. And that chin darkened with a two-day beard? She wanted to run one palm along it. Strike his body like a match and feel the heat.
One cor
ner of his mouth quirked up when Logan caught her staring. “Hungry?”
She gulped. “You bet.”
Their eyes locked. The moment stretched. Her body gave her all kinds of disturbing signals.
“Smart ass,” she finally whispered. His lop-sided grin split into a smile.
This was the Logan she loved.
Really? The impact shook her. Thank goodness he’d turned back to stacking supplies in the cupboard and didn’t witness her confusion. When had she fallen in love with Logan Castle? Was it when he’d taken the cold tortilla from Teresa or when he assured Ana Lena that he would help her? After quaking with nervousness and holding him off for weeks, the country club doctor had inched his way into McKenna’s heart with small acts of kindness.
Oh, man. The new revelation knifed through her.
Love upped the ante. Brought consequences she hoped she could handle.
By then Teresa was spooning warm beans and rice into tin plates, and they grabbed bottles of pop. Taking the food outside, they slumped onto the weathered bench. For a few seconds, everything fell silent. Night sounds hummed all around them.
“Questions? Comments?” Selena asked between mouthfuls.
“Hey, why don’t you step off that soapbox and enjoy your complex carbohydrates?” Sherry joked. “Everything went fine.”
A couple of them rolled their eyes. At times today, the cases were anything but fine. They compared notes, discussed issues and offered suggestions. McKenna much preferred this informal setting to case conferences in one of the hospital meeting rooms. Of course, having Logan close beside her was a plus point. The task was huge and the time remaining, short. This was like trying to empty Lake Michigan with a teaspoon, for cripe’s sake.
Here in Limar, they were the only hope, at least for now. Teresa pointed out the small ways the midwives helped the women, like suggesting olive oil to help the skin stretch easier during birth. They had brought cases of donated packets of olive oil to avoid vaginal tears during childbirth.
For the next two days, they continued to see patients. In the back corner, often assisted by Janet, Logan worked silently, lips pressed tight. He never complained. But with each day, he withdrew into a world McKenna couldn’t enter. As she trembled with the new knowledge that kept her awake, Logan became increasingly quiet.