We found the number of the HQ for Médicins Sans Frontières in Rwanda, and I made the call. After two hours, several follow-up calls and waiting on the line for long periods for them to locate an English-speaker, I finally found out some more of what had happened and established the name of the girl who’d died from the bad drugs: Linda McArthur.
Linda was a nurse stationed at the same hospital where Logan worked as a surgeon. Although Logan was more versed in consultancy, he showed a real talent for resetting broken bones. Underqualified for a full surgeon’s post in the US, he nevertheless doubled-up as needed.
His girlfriend was suffering severe heatstroke after a field trip during which she and other members of the team dispensed inoculations to the villages hundreds of miles from the city. Logan prescribed a standard drug to her, but as he explained in the bar, she was given a cheap generic drug dressed up as a specific brand, and it caused her tragic death.
The pharmacist in question had since been fired, and Logan cleared of all wrongdoing. I couldn’t find out the exact details of what had happened after Linda died, but quickly put two and two together when I was told her father was a prominent politician from Texas and that he was running for the Senate the year she died. The whole thing had probably been hushed up to make sure it didn’t interfere with Linda’s father’s political career.
I made one last phone call, just to be certain. I wasn’t sure I would have any luck in getting anyone to speak to me, but I called the public number listed for Senator McArthur, anyway. I was fortunate enough to get a hold of Linda’s mother, and she turned out to be extremely helpful in the end.
“I hope you are going to keep this quiet,” she said after I’d explained the reason for my call. “We have done so much to prevent the media from turning this into some story about my daughter dying from drugs. You know how these things can look.”
“I promise,” I said. “I just want to know what is going on with Doctor Storm.”
“Logan is a true gentleman and a man of his word,” she told me. “We asked him to disappear for a while and not to speak about my daughter’s death to anyone, even after he was cleared. The political press in America is no joke, and my husband would never have been elected if there was a hint his daughter was addicted to prescription drugs … whether it was true or not. If it weren’t for Logan doing precisely as we asked, Linda’s death would have been much harder on us.”
I thanked Mrs. McArthur from the bottom of my heart and sat back on the couch in shock. We were all persecuting Logan as if he were a criminal when he was the hero in the story. He was refusing to speak about Linda’s death as a favor to her parents, and it seemed he’d even given up is medical practice for a while to help them go forward.
“You’d better get over to speak to him right away …” Stacy started saying, and I didn’t even wait for her to finish her sentence. I rushed down to the street and sprinted toward the hospital accommodation, then upward again, taking the stairs two at a time to Logan’s room.
When I got there, I banged on his door. I couldn’t give a crap if my shouts were disturbing anyone.
“Logan! Logan, I’m sorry I doubted you. Please open up.”
“He’s not there,” another nurse said. John had a room next to Logan and was peering out of to see what the commotion was about. “He left an hour ago. Had all his bags with him.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “Where did he go?”
“He said he was off to Indonesia. Not sure if he was just making a joke, but the bags looked serious.”
17
I nearly collapsed right there, but steeled myself and ran back to my room and asked Stacy if she knew of a quick way to make it to the harbor. I had no idea whether Logan would be traveling to Indonesia via ship or by airplane, but I figured I had to take a guess, and he somehow struck me as the kind of guy who would rather travel by sea.
“Your mom called while you were out,” Stacy said. “She’s concerned, and she told me Tom Delaney called today to discuss some private stuff with her. Apparently, he mentioned photos of you and Logan, which he could only have seen on her Facebook timeline. She’s afraid he’s stalking you.”
“Great, what a nice way to make this whole thing even more complicated,” I said.
Stacy and I rushed downstairs to her car so we could race after Logan; hoping to get to him before he left Sri Lanka—and my life—for good.
A man’s voice called, “Jenny, wait.”
I looked around as we ran down the hospital embankment and saw it was Tom calling out after me.
I ran back up to where he was waiting for me.
“Thank God you came back,” he said with a smug look on his face. “There are some things about Logan you should …”
Tom didn’t get to finish his sentence as I hit him square on the mouth with a straight right fist.
He grunted as he fell over backward, and I flashed him one final look before running down the embankment again to where Stacy was waiting.
“High-five!” she shouted, and we briefly slapped hands before running to her car. We jumped in, and she fastened her seatbelt and told me to do the same. “Hold on tight, this ride might get bumpy.”
When I saw the road she took toward the harbor, I understood why she’d issued that warning. Fortunately, Stacy had one of those light cars that seemed to run on air, and when we took the turnoff onto a dirt road, it had no trouble in navigating the little bends.
“How the hell did you know about this shortcut to the harbor?” I shouted.
Stacy laughed. “I’ve been down this road plenty of times. Lots of secluded spots, if you know what I mean.”
Stacy’s answer proved that sleeping around can have its advantages, and I was grateful that she was able to cut our traveling time to the harbor in half.
“I can see a ship ready to leave the harbor,” I said as we navigated past the last line of trees that separated us from the coastline.
“Get ready to jump out and run as fast as you can. We’ll have to travel the last half mile on foot.”
I saw what she meant. A steep downhill path passed between us and the harbor. There was no way we’d be able to traverse it in Stacy’s car. I took off my shoes and got ready to run for dear life as soon as Stacy stepped on the brakes and brought us to a halt.
She did so with surprising grace.
My feet hit the ground, and Stacy wasn’t far behind. I almost fell several times, and eventually slid down the hill more than actually running down it. I realized I wasn’t going to look particularly neat and tidy, but appearances were now the last consideration on my list of priorities.
When Stacy and I finally made it to the bottom, we were in time to see the ship part from its mooring. A ferry of sorts, rather than a cruise-liner, and a loud noise rang out as it blew its horn. The Land Rover which Logan always rented was parked at the garage near the harbor, and I knew with complete certainty that he was on the boat.
“Wait! Please, wait!” I shouted in vain as I watched the ship leave.
I sat down and started crying as Stacy put her arms around me and tried her best to console me.
“It will all work out in the end, you’ll see,” she kept saying as I watched the ship through my tears.
As it got smaller and smaller on the horizon, I thought about what the nurse in the room next to Logan had told me and wondered what the hell he thought when he decided to go to Indonesia.
I had treated him without the kind of trust he deserved, but couldn’t see the logic of such a drastic step taken so out of the blue.
Gazing after the ship, I wondered if Logan was staring back at the land and thinking of me at all. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if I didn’t get to see his face every day and feel the warmth of his smile caressing me. Everything suddenly became focused in my mind, and I instantly acquired a brand new tunnel vision.
I forced myself to stop crying and fixed Stacy with my most badass stare. “I know I don’t deserve him, but I
’m going after him, anyway.”
18
The cliffside temple of Uluwatu was unlike anything I’d seen in my entire life. It was built against the side of a rock cliff as if held in place by unseen hands. Because it was so high up, it had escaped the full force of the tsunami, and I walked through its hallowed halls with renewed respect for the archaeological skill of the natives.
I don’t know how the hell Stacy got me to Bali, but it must’ve had something to do with her talented lips and unquestionable blowjob skills. Although her verbal dexterity was also impeccable, I suspected she’d be thrilled to give an “edgy” admin guy a good time as she convinced him it was in everyone’s best interest for me to be transferred to this tropical island and its specific operation of Doctors Without Borders.
The island was well-known for its lively bars, good-looking yoga instructors, and wonderful sights. The meditation retreats were another of its attractions, and most of these institutions had escaped the brunt of the massive natural disaster that had wiped out most of the towns in the area. The reason for this was that the retreats and temples, like Uluwatu, were all built high in the hills where the tsunami could not reach them.
Incredible that the same violent surge that destroyed Arugam Bay also decimated swaths of this group of islands at practically the same time.
I’d been looking for Logan now for one entire month, without any success. The greatest obstacle I faced was that he could have been on any of the surrounding islands on an extended mission to help out the more remote population. One mistake I made was in searching for a nurse called Logan Summers and was stunned to discover he had taken up work in his full professional capacity as a surgeon again. He’d probably learned his late girlfriend’s father, Senator McArthur, had won his election, and that there was no longer any need for Logan to keep a low profile.
As a surgeon, he had a lot more freedom and autonomy, and he’d asked to take care of the roving missions, meaning he traveled around between the islands and helped out wherever the need was the greatest. In a way, I was incredibly happy to hear Logan was working as a surgeon again, and that he no longer had to move around under the shadow of Tom’s innuendos and rumor-mongering.
I only hoped I would have enough time to find him before Tom did what I expected him to do at some stage, namely follow me to Indonesia to reprise his doomed attempt at winning back my affections.
I walked to the rear of the temple and observed the beautiful ancient writings on the wall. I wished I could decipher what it all meant, but it was a mystery to me.
It would have been so easy for Logan to betray the trust of Senator McArthur and his wife, to have told me what happened and got me off his back, but he was too honorable, too committed to his promise.
At first, I was furious with Logan for having left without telling me anything about it. But after giving it some thought, I realized he was probably so sick and tired of Tom’s meddling, as well as me being forced to work side by side with the man, that he must have snapped and packed his bags to start over. Who knew what kind of guilt he carried, even though Linda’s death was not his fault at all?
My phone rang. It was Stacy.
“Hi, how is my intrepid friend doing with her investigation?”
“Hey, I miss you so much. I wish you could be here to see this incredible temple. I’ve taken the day off to do some sightseeing.”
“You do know prayer alone will not help you to find Logan, right?” she joked.
I laughed out loud but muted myself as the noise carried around the walls and a group of Japanese students tutted. I lowered my voice. “I’m not at the temple to pray, although I could probably do with some divine intervention, under the circumstances.”
“Why, have you got no leads on Logan’s whereabouts yet?”
“Some. All very slim. He’s traveling around from island to island.”
“You do know you’re kinda doing what Tom did to you, right? Trailing an ex, hoping to get back together.”
“Yeah, but the difference is I’m not some sociopath with delusions of grandeur.”
“Well, I’m going to be taking my vacation in about two days from now, so I will be joining you over there as we discussed … I do need a break from all this madness.”
“Are things that hectic over there in Arugam Bay?” I asked, wandering outside to keep from annoying anyone else.
“You don’t want to know. Tom walked around with swollen lips for a week after you punched the crap out of him, and now he’s turned into a real monster. He’s shouting at everyone, and I think he’s going to lose it anytime soon. Stress, heat, no five-star accommodation. It’s getting to him. Management isn’t pleased.”
“I have a little surprise for you. The Tom Delaney you see now is not some brand new monster. That is the real Tom without all the pretenses and bullshit. He was always that way at the private hospital, but he was subtle about it, kept it hidden when it mattered.”
“You know, I kind of thought that might be the case. But don’t worry. I do seem to have a little bit of control over him.”
I could almost see the smile on her lips as she said that.
“What do you mean?” I asked, almost too afraid to hear her answer.
“Well, let’s just say I’ve worked with him a couple of times and forgot to wear a bra on those days. And I might have bent over at times and given him a glimpse of what he’ll never lay his hands on.”
“Good Lord, Stacy, your tits should be registered as weapons of mass distraction.” I could imagine how horny poor old Tom must have been when he caught sight of her breasts.
“That’s just his karma biting back at him on behalf of all the nurses, here and back in the States when the two of you were still together.”
There was indeed a kind of poetic justice about it all—the horny, cheating doctor being led around by his nose through the charms and graces of the most seductive women he could ever have hoped to meet.
“Just promise me you won’t give that bastard any action.”
“Don’t you worry, my dear friend. I’d sooner suck off the admin guy a hundred times before I ever touch the vile doctor Tom Delaney.”
“Well, I can’t wait for you to arrive so I can show you around this magnificent place. Arugam Bay is beautiful, but this is close to paradise.”
We said goodbye and hung up. It was almost noon, and the waves on the beach would soon be at their best. I rushed out of the temple and got on my little motorcycle to ride down to my bungalow to fetch my surfboard.
I walked past Lucille on my way to the beach and stopped to check if she’d heard about Logan yet. Lucille was the administrative official at the new Bali hospital, currently run by Doctors Without Borders, but staffing up nicely with indigenous students and immigrants wishing to settle for longer. She was keeping an eye open to tell me as soon as she got wind of where Logan was.
“Any new info yet?” I asked as Lucille stopped to talk to me.
She was a short and pretty Indonesian girl with lively eyes and a radiant smile. “You do miss your doctor, don’t you?”
I couldn’t help but smile right back. She pronounced some of her “R” sounds as “L’s” and also had an unusual accent, so her words had come out as, You do miss yaw doctah, don’t yew?
“I do miss him, yes, so please let me know if you hear anything.”
Lucille promised me she would be doing exactly that, and I waved goodbye before strolling down toward the breathtaking white beach.
The beaches in Bali were not only picturesque with their clear blue waters and golden sand but also dangerous in certain places where underground lava from centuries of eruptions had left razor sharp edges underneath the water’s surface. But they also meant some of the finest breaks in the southern hemisphere.
The swells rose and broke right on top of these rocky embankments, so only the best surfers braved the waves in the most treacherous areas. There were also hollow places in the rock surface underneath the water
where pools caught and were then warmed by underground heat, after which they escaped at regular intervals, shooting out above the surface in spectacular hot geysers.
I wasn’t up there with the elite. Not yet. I’d continued my lessons through a local surf school which knew the area well and had instructed me how to avoid the most dangerous spots. I was making good progress, finally able to stand up and ride the smaller waves right onto the shore.
Today, I walked to the water’s edge, and the water was lovely. I placed my surfboard in the shallows, secured the cuff to my ankle, and lay on it before starting to paddle out. Two American jock-types waited on their boards beyond the breaking waves, and they smiled knowingly at one another when they saw me. I’d never met them surfing there before, and they probably thought I was going to be pummeled by the waves. What they didn’t know was that they were lying right on top of a spot where a hot water geyser intermittently squirted from below. Seeing as they’d laughed at me when I paddled in, I decided the pair were probably clever enough to find out for themselves.
I smiled a friendly smile at them before moving away to a spot where I’d be safe.
Before long, a nice wave approached, and I was looking forward to racing the two arrogant guys to the beach, but they stayed where they were and didn’t try to catch it with me. I gained enough speed, stood up carefully on my board, and when the wave took me, I got that familiar rush of pleasure as the wave pressed me forward with its invisible hand. I even cut back to the top of the wave like I’d practiced before, succeeding with both strokes, and when the wave petered out on the beach, I looked back at the two guys.
They had glanced at one another before offering brief salutes and applauding after watching a tender little girl like me riding a wave as if I’d been born on a surfboard. At their acknowledgment, I suddenly felt guilty for not having warned them about lying on top of a hot geyser. On the other hand, the applause was somewhat patronizing, so I had to weigh up the two options. It didn’t take me long, and I waved frantically at them, gesturing for them to move over a few yards.
My Doctor Without Borders Page 7