by Lucy Clark
Dragging in a deep breath, Emmy opened her eyes and forced her emotions back under control, determined not to let Dart get to her. He may have a job to do in providing medical care to these people but she also had a job to do and she wasn’t going to let him diminish her role or her professionalism by brushing her aside.
‘Hey, Emmy!’ Gloria called, waving to her and Emmy pasted on a smile and headed towards the bubbly nurse. ‘Dart said to stick with either Rick or myself for this clinic.’
‘Is he always so brisk?’ The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she received a surprised look from Gloria.
‘Dart? No. He’s very organised and fair.’ Gloria headed into a small treatment area that consisted of a table with a sheet over it, a wash basin on the side and plenty of towels and bandages. ‘Action stations,’ she said as Rick brought through the first patient.
In the first hour the TV crew managed to get a lot of good footage but as her crew was busy, Emmy felt very much like the third wheel. Instead, she watched the way Gloria and Rick worked together as a harmonious team, treating their patients and moving them along to make way for the next person who required attention.
Once the patients had been seen, they were directed to the food hut, where Meeree and a lot of the village women were providing a ‘recovery’ aspect to treatment. People could sit, have something to eat and drink and chat. Unfortunately, as Emmy didn’t speak the language, she felt very left out.
‘Ms Jofille.’ She turned as she heard Dart call her name. ‘If you’ve nothing better to do, come over here and help me out.’
Emmy ignored his impatient tone and headed to where he was leading a patient into his small clinic area, happy to be allowed to actually do something.
‘Wash your hands.’ He pointed to the wash basin as he helped his pregnant female patient lie down on the examination table. Dart spoke in Tarparnese to the woman, who was crying. ‘Iodine, gauze, bandages,’ he said to Emmy as he hooked his stethoscope into his ears and listened to the woman’s abdomen.
Emmy’s eyes widened. ‘Are you going to perform a C-section here?’ She quickly hunted around among the supplies for the things he’d requested. In the medical hut where she had assisted Dart in suturing Hunklu’s wound, things had been more organised. Here she had to look in containers, lifting lids and digging around to find what she needed.
‘She has a cut to her left foot. Stepped on something sharp and is worried the cut is going to affect the baby. I’m reassuring her the baby is just fine and then we’ll start on the foot.’ Dart switched back into Tarparnese as he spoke to the woman. The relief that washed over the woman’s face when she was told her baby was fine made Emmy’s heart melt. This woman cared so much for her unborn child that she’d risked walking goodness only knew how far in order to receive medical attention.
Emmy continued to assist Dart for the rest of the afternoon, pleased to be able to help out, even if it was only in a small way. She’d always been a fast learner and had picked up a few key phrases, and by the time the clinic started to wind down, she was able to call a patient in and say farewell in Tarparnese.
‘Impressive,’ Dart said as he started to tidy up the area they’d been working in.
Emmy smiled brightly, thrilled that he’d noticed her attempts to help and adapt. That was why he’d made the comment, right? She shook her confusion away, deciding to take his words in a positive light. ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she commented.
‘Thank you so much for the vote of confidence,’ he drawled dryly, glancing over at her. Her bright smile lit her face completely, her eyes sparkling, her perfectly pink lips wide, showing off straight white teeth. The woman really was extraordinarily beautiful. Dart cleared his throat and looked away, keeping his tone dry and impersonal. ‘It means so much.’
There was no sarcasm detectable in his tone and again she thought she saw that irrepressible curve of his lips so Emmy wasn’t sure whether he was joking or being serious. She’d worked alongside him, noting the way he was kind and considerate to every patient, treating each person as though they were important whether they were there for a check-up or something more serious, like a congenital heart defect. However, she had yet to figure the man out.
Not that figuring out the inner workings of Dart’s mind was essential to her job here—it wasn’t—but ever since she’d arrived Emmy had been intrigued by the man beside her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on just why she felt that way but it was there, simmering low and deep within her.
She pushed it aside. She was here to focus on her job, on doing an important piece for the network on the plight of the Tarparnese people and those dedicated and brave people who offered help and support. That was all that mattered for the next week.
‘QaH!’ P’Ko-lat called, and Emmy recognised the Tarparniian word for ‘help’. It was a word she’d heard quite often that afternoon yet it was the urgency in the receptionist’s tone that made Dart stop what he was doing and rush to see what was happening.
‘Look.’ P’Ko-lat pointed to where two men were coming through the trees into the village clearing, carrying an injured man between them. Dart rushed over to look at his latest patient. He sucked in a breath, shook his head and then muttered directions in Tarparnese, pointing to the medical hut.
‘Get me some gauze,’ he called to her, as he quickly pressed his hand to the injured man’s abdomen which, as they drew closer, Emmy realised was covered in blood. She did as he said and handed him the gauze as he walked past. He pressed it to the wound and yet it was soaked within less than a minute.
‘Belhara, Tarvon,’ he called as P’Ko-lat held open the door to the medical hut. Emmy watched as the two men ran across into the medical hut, the door closing behind them. A moment later Hunklu came out, a little dazed at being evicted from where he’d been resting. P’Ko-lat helped Hunklu as Gloria came racing over.
‘What is it? What’s happening?’ Emmy asked, interested to find out more and annoyed she didn’t speak the language.
‘Emergency. Probably a gunshot wound.’ Gloria disappeared inside the hut as the two men who had been carrying their friend emerged.
Gunshot. Emmy’s eyes widened at this news. Guns were not her favourite thing. She knew there were soldiers, she knew the country was in a state of political unrest, but why had this man been shot? She motioned to her TV crew and together the three of them headed to the hut.
Opening the door and stepping inside, unsure of what reception she’d receive from Dart, Emmy was transfixed by the sight of Dart and Tarvon working to stabilise their patient. Gloria was cutting off the man’s camouflage and Belhara was getting his equipment set up to provide anaesthesia when the time came for Dart to operate. All of them had hastily pulled on thin protective gowns over their clothes, the tapes flapping untied behind them.
She looked down at the patient, seeing the red area where the bullet had entered his body. Guns were bad, they could cause so much distress, and like a wave of sickness, Emmy felt a heaviness from her past settle over her. She closed her eyes and worked hard at controlling her emotions, staying in control. The past was the past and that’s exactly where it would remain.
‘If you’re here to help…’ Dart’s deep, resonant voice broke through her control and she instantly opened her eyes, meeting his dark brown glare. ‘Then grab me a bag of saline. If you’re here to gawk, get out.’
Emmy looked at her crew. ‘You heard the doctor. Out.’ She knew they would already have shot some footage so they exited the hut without complaint. She returned her attention to Dart. ‘Saline? Coming right up, Doctor.’ She headed over to where she’d seen it stored earlier and passed it to him.
‘Thanks.’
Taking that as a sign that her presence was acceptable, Emmy hurried to the wash basin and cleaned her hands, pulling on a gown and a pair of gloves. She was determined to be helpful whether Dart really wanted her here or not.
As the rest of the team worked,
she handed Gloria the drapes and prepared the iodine so that the wound site could be sterilised before surgery. She passed Belhara the vials he couldn’t quite reach and set up the operation tray for Dart.
As she tied Dart’s mask in place, the patient now anaesthetised and ready for surgery, Emmy ignored the warmth radiating from his close proximity. She’d already tied Tarvon’s mask in place and had felt absolutely nothing like this. Why did she only get this feeling when she was next to Dart?
Emmy swallowed over the dryness in her throat, trying not to breathe in the subtle spicy scent that surrounded him. Her fingers fumbled with the tapes, turning into a bunch of uncooked sausages as he bent down slightly, her on tiptoe, so she could reach.
He wished to goodness she’d hurry up and not because he was in any sort of pain from bending down. The sweet, fresh scent she wore, probably something extremely expensive that cost his entire year’s salary, was winding its way about him, starting to infuse his senses with the need to draw her closer and breathe in more deeply.
That was the last thing he needed, to want to draw this woman closer. He’d been doing his best all day long to keep her at a firm distance but when he’d required help earlier in the clinic, he’d had to put up with her at his side. The same thing was happening now. Her help since she’d walked in the door had been great but right now he didn’t need to be distracted with thoughts of what scent she was wearing when he needed to focus on removing a bullet from his patient’s abdomen.
‘Done. Sorry. Didn’t mean to take so long.’ She spoke near his ear, her breath fanning down his neck, and Dart immediately straightened, stepping closer to the table, hands held up, eyes looking down at his patient, brain processing the fact that his body was reacting to Emerson’s nearness more than it had reacted to any woman in the past six years.
Dart cleared his throat as she moved away to stand next to Gloria, pleased she wasn’t crowding him any more. Perhaps now he could school his thoughts to where they needed to be and not on the TV socialite who had seemingly come into this village to create havoc in any way she could. He knew that wasn’t exactly true but it was certainly the way it felt.
‘Belhara?’ He looked at the anaesthetist.
‘Ready.’
Dart held out his hand. ‘Scalpel.’ It was a surgery he’d performed far too many times since he’d started coming to Tarparnii. All of them knew the drill.
‘Do you remove a lot of bullets?’ Emmy asked into the silence.
‘Yes,’ Dart responded.
‘Too many,’ Tarvon concurred sadly.
‘If we’re not suturing gashes or cuts, we’re delivering babies or removing bullets,’ Dart continued.
Gloria nodded. ‘Rick’s even performed a few teeth extractions.’
Both Dart and Tarvon agreed with this.
‘So, really, you become “bitsa” doctors out here. Bits of this and bits of that.’
Dart looked up and held her gaze for a moment, surprised she understood. ‘Exactly. It doesn’t matter what your speciality might be, whether you’re a surgeon or an obstetrician, a clinic nurse or an experienced midwife. Out here, everyone does what needs to be done to the best of their ability.’ Dart held out his hand. ‘Forceps.’
Within a few more seconds he’d removed the bullet from the wound and Tarvon was packing it with gauze. After tidying up the area and ensuring none of the patient’s vital organs had been ruptured, Dart started to close the wound in layers.
‘How’s he doing, Belhara?’
‘Very good, Dart.’
‘Excellent. Right.’ Dart stood back from the patient and started to peel off his gloves. ‘Must almost be time for the celebrations.’
‘Celebrations?’
‘Your welcome-to-the-jungle party,’ Dart remarked as he finished degowning.
‘I’m sorry. I’m afraid I still don’t understand.’ Emmy shook her head slightly as she, too, removed her gown. Dart pointed to the door and it wasn’t until she’d opened the door that she realised night had fallen.
Outside, the centre of the village had undergone a transformation. Gone were the clinic tents, packed away until they were next needed. The ground had been swept with a stiff broom made of sticks, the area free of twigs and leaves. Food was being prepared, the enticing aromas filling the air, and a large bonfire was being stacked.
Everywhere people were working, busy either stringing flowers to make garlands or rolling some sort of tree sap which Emmy realised were being turned into candles. Some patients had stayed, others had returned to their own villages. She spied her own crew, taking footage of everything.
‘A welcome-to-the-jungle party.’ She shook her head and turned to look at Dart. ‘This is all for us?’
‘For you and your crew? Yes.’ He’d watched her closely as she’d taken in the hub of activity before them. Where he’d thought she would expect such preferential treatment, she’d surprised him instead by appearing quite moved.
She clutched her hands to her chest and slowly exhaled. ‘Never have I felt so welcomed anywhere in my life as I do here.’ The words were softly spoken and Dart realised the emotions she was displaying weren’t at all artificial.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat and looked at him again, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘This place is…magical.’
Dart frowned and forced himself to look away from the enticing picture she made. There weren’t many people who came here and saw this country, this village, these people in the same way he did, and now it appeared that Ms Emerson-Rose Jofille was one of them.
Chapter Three
EMMY smothered a yawn, trying to be discreet in case anyone thought she was being rude or that she was bored. She most certainly wasn’t the latter, especially as the village had held a campfire banquet in their honour. She and her crew of two, consisting of Mike, her sound man and Neal, her cameraman, had been made to feel like royalty, everyone in the village welcoming them with open arms.
Everyone, that was, except for Dart Freeman.
The man had been brisk and standoffish, especially during the past few hours since the festivities had begun. Emmy was still trying to rack her brains to figure out what she might have done wrong.
Hunklu had stayed for the campfire celebrations, continually offering her the lovely fruits and vegetables they grew in the village as well as pieces of a corn-type bread she’d seen some of the ladies making earlier.
Hunklu had been highly attentive and even though they didn’t speak the same language, with a lot of gesturing they’d been able to communicate quite effectively. Dart, on the other hand, had kept his distance and even now Emmy could see him on the other side of the fire where he sat surrounded by children, talking to Jalak. The children clearly adored him and it made Emmy realise that there was something about the man that was good and proper because children were often quite good judges of character, able to pick a phoney a mile away.
‘He is a quiet man,’ Meeree said as she came and sat on the log next to Emmy.
‘Huh? Pardon?’ Emmy dragged her gaze away from the enigmatic Dart and smiled warmly at the woman beside her.
‘He does what needs to be done with no fuss.’
Emmy nodded. ‘A quiet achiever.’ That label seemed to fit him perfectly somehow.
‘You are most perceptive, Emmy. Even today he has done much for so many people.’
‘He didn’t go out to the other village with the rest of his medical team.’ Emmy allowed her gaze to stray back to where Dart sat. ‘Why not?’
Meeree smiled. ‘He was the only one who could do the clinic today on his own. He has the experience. He is also PMA leader and must be here to meet you first.’
It was food for thought. He’d had to stay behind because of her. Was that why he’d been standoffish? All but ignoring her? ‘How many people came to the clinic this morning?’
‘Almost fifty,’ Meeree supplied, and Emmy gasped. She’d seen for herself how hectic clinics could be.
‘How…how did he finish by the time we arrived just after midday?’ She now openly stared at Dart and when he looked her way she didn’t turn away but held his gaze.
‘He began well before the sun was bringing us heat.’ Meeree held out a bamboo jug in order to refill Emmy’s cup but she declined.
‘Thank you but I’ve had too much already. You and your people have been so generous.’
‘It’s their way,’ a deep voice said next to her. She turned and there, standing on the other side of her, was Dart, a small baby, only about a month or so old, asleep in his arms. Emmy stared up at him, almost getting a crick in her neck he was so tall. ‘They may not have much but what they do have they willing share with all who come to the village.’
Meeree stood and indicated that Dart should sit. ‘I must check on others.’
Emmy wanted to delay Meeree, to ask her to stay so that she wasn’t left alone in the glow of the campfire with the handsome but annoying Dart Freeman. Well, she had been in plenty of situations in the past where she’d had to call on her finishing-school training when faced with a situation she wasn’t all that happy with.
After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to gain control over her body and mind, Emmy pasted a smile on her face. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t really see it, given the lack of bright light, she knew it was there and it was like a barrier that would protect not only her from him but him from her.
‘So, please tell me, Dr Freeman, how long have you been here in the village? Meeree said that you were the senior doctor for PMA?’ Emmy almost applauded herself at the way she’d managed to maintain control and open dialogue between them. If he didn’t pick it up, she could sit here quietly for a few minutes and then politely move off.
‘I’ve almost finished a twelve-week stint but I’m the PMA medic in charge in this area mainly due to the fact that I’ve been here so many times. I’ll be returning to Australia on the same flight as you and your TV crew.’ Dart didn’t look at her as he spoke, instead preferring to look straight ahead.