by Laura Iding
“Yes, but you need to understand—I can’t change who I am. I’m falling for you, but I still don’t want a family.”
Her brief feeling of euphoria faded. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do. You’re the one who told me adults make choices. What if this is the choice I’ve made? Is it so awful just because it happens to be one you don’t agree with?” When she opened her mouth to interrupt him, he raised a hand. “Do you see that as selfish? I think it’s being realistic. Some people aren’t the family type, they can’t cope with it. My parents were a prime example.”
His parents weren’t worth much, in her opinion, but she held her tongue about that. “Children don’t have to be a burden, Blake.”
“Yet they are a burden, by their nature. They need to be loved, clothed, fed, housed and taken care of. Some people welcome that burden, others don’t. Some people simply don’t want families, Moriah. And I’m one of them.” He stepped back, widening the distance between them. “If you can live with that part of me, then you’re welcome to come in.”
She stared at him, unable to believe he’d tossed her an ultimatum. He loved her and she loved him, but she couldn’t accept what he was saying. No matter how badly she wanted him, she couldn’t make herself step over the threshold. “Blake, I know you’ve lived most of your life alone. But I can’t change who I am either. I come from a large family. I’ve always dreamed of having children.” She shook her head. “I can’t give up my dreams. Especially since I don’t believe you’re anything like your parents.”
“You might not like it, but I am very much like my parents. I spent time with your family, Moriah. There were so many people, everyone talking at the same time with no one listening. I couldn’t wait to leave. With every minute that passed, I knew I didn’t belong there.”
Her eyes widened. She’d had no idea he’d felt like that. And for the life of her she couldn’t think of a suitable response.
“You have no idea how much I wish I could change for you. But I can’t.”
Slowly, quietly, giving her every chance to stop him, he closed the door.
Her knees threatened to buckle and she leaned against the wall for support. The bag of food slipped from her fingers to land on the floor with a thud.
She had so wanted to believe there was the slenderest hope of having a future with him.
But Blake had just convinced her there wasn’t.
Moriah pulled herself together, knowing there wasn’t a place in Peru she could go to avoid memories of Blake. She headed back to the hospital, where she could at least talk to her patients as a distraction.
Theo, Marita’s father, was grateful for the dinner she brought him, the one she’d originally intended to give to Blake. The second meal she’d planned to give to Henri, since Marita wasn’t able to eat anything except through a straw. Moriah had planned for that, though, stopping in the hospital cafeteria first to fetch a shake-like concoction made from papaya juice and milk.
“Have you seen how you look?” she asked Marita as the girl gratefully sipped her drink.
Slowly, Marita shook her head.
“I’ll get the mirror for you.” She hurried out to the nurses’ station and fetched the mirror, then returned to Marita’s room. “Here.” She held up the mirror. “Take a look.”
For a long moment Marita gazed at her reflection, then bright tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her brown cheeks. Moriah muttered a curse and dropped the mirror on the bed. “Oh, Marita, don’t cry. I know the incision looks a little puffy now, but it will heal beautifully, you’ll see.”
“It’s OK, she’s not upset.” Theo stood and hugged his daughter with one arm. “She’s crying tears of joy.”
“She is?” Worried, Moriah tipped Marita’s chin up with her fingers to look into the girl’s eyes. “Really?”
Marita nodded. Her lip was swollen and sore, but she spoke slowly and quietly. “Thank you very much. You have given me a new life.”
“You’re welcome.” Moriah wished all her patients could be this happy. She turned and headed down the hall to Henri’s room carrying the second container of food.
“Hello, Henri. I brought dinner for you.”
“Moriah.” He was bouncing on the bed with the pent-up energy of youth. He looked happy to see her. “Thank you so much. Look what I can do.” He raised his affected hand and moved all five of his fingers.
“Excellent.” Moriah dropped into the chair beside him. “Now you’ll need to keep up your exercises, so they become even more flexible.”
“I will.” He dug into the food with gusto. “And then maybe I get to leave tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Moriah’s stomach tensed. She’d really enjoyed spending this time with Henri. He was a great kid. And she couldn’t help but wonder if this was the closest she’d get to having a family of her own. Taking care of Henri here, and playing with her nieces and nephews when she returned home.
Shaking herself out of her funk, she realized that if Henri was going home she’d need to arrange for transportation. Rather than head all the way back to the hotel, she went to the nurses’ station to inquire about using their phone.
The Peruvian nurses seemed puzzled by her request, so she explained the whole story, how she needed to get Henri back to the orphanage once he was discharged. There was a bit of discussion about buses versus taxis, then one nurse generously offered Moriah the use of her car. Moriah didn’t want to offend her by refusing, so she gratefully accepted, and they made arrangements to meet in front of the hotel the following morning.
Satisfied, Moriah returned to Henri’s room. At least she could take Henri back where he belonged. And she imagined Sister Rita wouldn’t let her get away a second time without the grand tour. Maybe she’d take the morning off.
After she’d checked Henri’s hand incision, she settled in for the rest of the night.
There was no use going back to her hotel room—she wouldn’t get any more sleep there than she would sitting here by Henri’s bed. She watched him sleep, his youthful expression peaceful. He was satisfied to have five fully movable fingers, and Marita was thankful for her new life.
She should be thrilled at the positive outcomes, yet she couldn’t shake the cloak of depression that had settled over her shoulders. Blake thought he might be falling in love with her, but he only wanted her on his terms. She knew she loved him, but longed for a family.
What if she gave up Blake, only to discover she couldn’t have children of her own? Or, worse, what if she never found a man she loved as much as she loved Blake to have a family with?
At first, she had seen Blake’s refusal to have a family as being selfish.
But maybe she was really the selfish one. Because she wanted it all. Blake, marriage and a family.
And now she feared she’d end up with none of them.
The next morning, Moriah woke up with a stiff neck from the awkward position in which she’d slept in the chair beside Henri’s bed. With a wry glance at the clock she knew Blake would be coming in soon. Pride, if nothing else, forced her into the bathroom to freshen up.
“Hi, Dr Powers.” She heard Henri greet Blake and quickly finished in the bathroom.
“Hello, Blake.” She gestured toward Henri. “I think your star patient is doing great.”
“I can see that.” Blake crossed the room and examined Henri’s fingers. “He could probably be discharged, as long as he continues to take the full course of antibiotics.”
“No problem. I’ll make sure he knows how to take the medication before we leave.”
“Have you arranged for Bernardo to drive you?” Blake asked.
“No, actually, I’ve made arrangements to borrow a car.” Talking to him like this, like they were polite strangers rather than lovers, was difficult. She swallowed her instinctive offer to ask him to come along. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” She glanced at Henri. “Right?”
“Right,” he echoed, but his gaze was troubled. Had
Henri noticed the strain between her and Blake? He was a bright kid, she didn’t doubt he’d pick up on the tension.
“Fine, then. Consider him discharged.” Blake wrote the order on the chart, then handed her a discharge summary sheet, transcribed in Spanish on one side, English on the other. “This is for the staff at the orphanage.”
“I know.” She took the slip of paper, careful not to touch him in the process. For a long moment they stood awkwardly, then Blake turned to leave.
Moriah had to steel herself against the urge to call him back, even though she had no idea what she would say. Pushing aside her discontent, she gathered Henri’s things together.
They walked down to the hospital lobby, so Moriah could fetch his antibiotics from the pharmacy. As they headed outside, she gave them to him, along with detailed instructions on how to take them. “Twice a day, one in the morning and one at night. Do you understand? Put them in your pocket so they won’t get lost.”
Henri complied, but remained quiet. Just outside the hospital entrance, she caught sight of Rasha and Manuel. Rasha saw her and waved wildly. She immediately crossed over to them.
“How’s the baby?” She peered at the sleeping infant nestled in Manuel’s muscular arms.
“Fine. Better now that she has the antibiotics.”
“She’s beautiful.” Moriah squashed a surge of unattractive jealousy. Certainly, Rasha and Manuel deserved to be happy.
No use wondering why the same sort of happiness seemed to elude her.
“Please, you must come to the festival tomorrow night.” Rasha exchanged a long look with her husband. “We would like to see you again before you return home.”
“You couldn’t keep me away,” Moriah promised. “But for now we’d better get going, right, Henri?” She glanced down, but didn’t see his familiar face anywhere. She frowned. “Hey, where did he go?”
Rasha and Manuel glanced at each other, then shook their heads. “I don’t know,” Manuel said.
The circular street was packed with people as the festival preparations were now in full swing.
“Maybe he went for a walk?” Rasha suggested.
For a walk? Where would he go? Back to the orphanage by himself? Not likely, without a ride. She dashed down the street, to the area in front of the hotel, but he wasn’t there either. She quickly made her way back to the hospital, where Rasha and Manuel still waited.
Her shoulders slumped as she forced herself to face the truth. Henri was too responsible to simply wander off. He must have run away, to avoid returning to the orphanage.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BLAKE could barely concentrate. He must have relived the conversation with Moriah a thousand times, only now he changed the outcome. Instead of being bluntly honest and forcing her to decide between him and her dreams of having a family, he opened the door wider and pulled her inside, into his arms.
Damn. He should have stayed away from her. Because no matter what he’d said, he didn’t really want her to change for him. The image of how she’d looked holding Rasha’s baby daughter wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d been bothered by a strange urge to hold the baby, too, when he’d never experienced anything remotely similar before.
Not every woman possessed the maternal instinct, but Moriah was a natural-born nurturer. Keeping a professional distance while talking to her a few minutes ago in Henri’s room had almost killed him. She’d looked so stoic, so determined to ignore her feelings, he’d almost given in right then and there.
But then he’d remembered his childhood, and his parents. They hadn’t wanted a baby, but he’d arrived on the scene anyway. He supposed they’d tried to adapt to his presence as much as they’d been able to, although his memories of those early years were blurred and faded.
The only clear image he could recall was of the day they’d taken him to the airport to put him on a plane bound for Chicago, where his aunt and uncle had lived. His parents had stood in the small airport, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, waving at him with wide smiles as the stewardess had taken him by the hand and led him aboard. To this day, he was left with the impression they had been a unit, so tightly paired even a child hadn’t penetrated the bond.
It was a memory that still stuck with him, all these years later. Maybe Moriah was right: being abandoned by his parents had translated to avoiding close, intimate relationships. Until he’d made love with Moriah.
Now she was the only woman he could imagine having the sense of completeness with that his parents must have had. Yet she was the one woman who wouldn’t settle for existing as half of a pair.
A no-win situation, no matter how you looked at it.
Outside José’s room, he paused and braced his hand on the door frame, struggling to breathe around the tightness of his chest. Would he ever get over the feeling his insides were being ripped into shreds? Or would she haunt him for the rest of his life, ruining him for anyone else?
He was afraid he already knew the answer. Straightening, he took a deep breath and walked into José’s room.
“Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. I’d like to go home soon. I need to return to work.” José seemed to be a little more comfortable than the last time he’d checked on him.
“I understand.” Blake took a few minutes to examine his patient, noticing the skin flap looked much better. Another success. He’d write the discharge orders as soon as he was finished making rounds.
He returned an hour later. Seated at the nurses’ station, he’d just signed his name when Moriah rushed in, a determined glint in her eyes. “Blake, I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?” He quickly stood, raking his gaze over her.
“Henri ran away.”
“What?” Blake was astounded by the news. “But why? I thought he’d adapted to life at the orphanage?”
“I thought so, too.” Moriah ran an agitated hand through her hair. “All I know is that he’s gone. One minute he was there, standing beside me while I talked to Rasha and Manuel, then, poof, he’s gone. Vanished. I didn’t know what to do so I came to find you.”
“All right, we’ll both go and look for him. He’s only ten years old, he couldn’t have gone far.”
“I’ve checked the hotel, but that’s all. Finding him will be hard because there are people everywhere, trying to finish the decorations for the festival.”
Blake soon understood what she’d meant. Never had he seen the streets of Trujillo so crowded. There was hardly a car in sight, but everywhere he looked, people were setting up booths, lights and working on the stage for the festival.
“I’m sure he’s not far. I’ll help you look for him.” He recognized a few of the locals from the time he’d helped string up the lanterns and thought about requesting a search party, but figured he’d hold off for now. The boy probably hadn’t gone far. He and Moriah would no doubt find Henri soon.
“It isn’t like him, to take off like this.”
“What was he wearing?” Blake asked her.
“White pants and a red short-sleeved T-shirt.”
“All right, you go south, I’ll head north. We’ll meet here at the statue in twenty minutes.”
Moriah nodded and took off. He headed in the opposite direction from the hotel, looking for anything that might have caught a child’s eye. He quickened his pace when he noticed a whole group of kids gathered in front of what appeared to be a school.
“Henri?” It was hard to tell if a particular boy was there. Most of the children were dressed very much like Henri.
The crowd of kids parted and he saw what they had gathered around: a boy, lying on the ground. His heart jumped into his throat before he realized the supine child wasn’t Henri. Then his expression cleared because Henri was there, using fabric from his pants leg to bind a bleeding cut on the boy’s arm.
“What happened?” Blake pushed his way to the child’s side.
“I saw them fighting and tried to stop it.” Henri’s r
ight eye was puffy, as if he’d gotten in the way of someone’s fist. “They didn’t listen at first, not even when I shouted and shouted. Finally it was different when one of them was hurt. I tried to make a dressing for his arm, like the one you made for me in the hospital.”
Relieved the crisis wasn’t worse, he had to give the kid credit. Henri hadn’t simply taken off, but had instead waded into the thick of things in an effort to help out. He laid a hand on Henri’s shoulder, remembering how the boy had shared his dream of becoming a doctor. “You did a good job with the bandage,” Blake complimented him. “Did he get hit in the head?”
Henri shook his head, but Blake did a quick assessment on the injured child anyway, to make sure there wasn’t something really wrong with him.
“Open your eyes for me,” he said in Spanish. To his relief, the boy’s pupils were equal and reactive. As far as he could tell, there were no other injuries. He turned toward Henri. “Moriah is worried about you, Henri. We need to get this boy to the clinic and let Moriah know you’re fine.”
Henri nodded and between them they got the injured boy to his feet. Other than the cut on his arm, he seemed fine, but Blake intended to get him to the hospital to make sure.
He didn’t see Moriah on the way as he took Henri and the injured boy to the clinic, where the locals took over his care. Blake stayed long enough to make sure he wasn’t needed before he and Henri headed back to the statue in the center of the street, the designated meeting place.
Moriah rushed toward them, her expression a mixture of relief and anger. “Henri! I can’t believe you ran away. Don’t you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?”
The boy shook his head. “I didn’t run away. I—”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You took off without saying a word. Do you have any idea how I felt when I noticed you were gone?”
Blake experienced a flash of sympathy for Henri, who couldn’t manage to get a word in on his own behalf. He rested his hands protectively on the boy’s shoulders. “Moriah, listen to him for a minute.”
“Are you defending him?” Her tone sharpened.