by Chanta Rand
When she’d finished gathering firewood, Grizzly Adams (she’d since learned that his name was really Gary) asked her to help him sweep out the clinic, which was divided into five rooms. One large receiving room, two examination rooms, one surgical room complete with medical equipment. And one recovery room, with four beds. It was state of the art – for a clinic in the middle of the world’s largest rainforest. She could tell the place had been bright and airy at one time, but now, it was filled with thick layers of dust.
“Max wants us to get all the dirt and cobwebs out of here,” Gary told her.
“That’s easier said than done. We’ll be here all day.”
“Here,” he said, handing her a broom. “You can sweep. I’ll start cleaning.”
As she grabbed a broom and began the task, an enormous tarantula lumbered in her direction. The hairy creature nearly ran over her foot, but she quickly reversed her broom and nudged the spider with the handle. It curled itself around the broom handle and she was able to quickly toss it outside.
She turned to see a look of amazement cross Gary’s face. “I can’t believe you just did that!” he exclaimed.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Did you want me to kill it instead?” As a doctor, she believed in preserving life. If she didn’t have to kill an animal, she wouldn’t. Well, flies and mosquitoes didn’t count. They were fair game. And roaches too. If it had been a roach, she would have squashed that sucker flat.
Gary shook his head. “No, you did the right thing. It’s just that you were so calm. Most women would have been scared to death. I can’t believe you didn’t scream your head off.”
“I grew up in Texas,” she explained. “I’m used to all kinds of spiders hiding out in the back yard. They don’t bother you if you don’t bother them.”
“Incredible,” he said, his blue eyes giving her a look of appreciation. “If I could only bring one thing to a remote desert island, it would definitely be you.”
“Funny,” she said, smiling. “The mountain man has a sense of humor.”
“Yes, I do,” he bragged. “But seriously, I’m glad Max found you. You are one tough lady, Dr. Kennedy.”
She mumbled under her breath. “If only you knew how wrong you are, Gary.”
* * *
The next morning, Max woke Alexa up. “Early bird gets the worm,” she sang happily. “Or in your case, the spider.”
Alexa opened her eyes to find Max standing over her, dressed in a short white lab coat. She yawned sleepily. “What did Gary tell you?”
“Not much,” Max winked. “Only that he’s very impressed with you.”
“Hmm. It must not take much to impress him.”
“On the contrary. He’s usually very reserved about handing out compliments.”
“It was no big deal,” Alexa brushed the compliment off. She sat up and swayed haphazardly, suddenly remembering she’d slept in a hammock last night. Their beds weren’t due to arrive for few days. It had taken some time for her to get used to being suspended in thin air, but the gentle swaying rocked her to sleep like a baby. “The spider was harmless,” she said. “Unlike this hammock.”
Max laughed. “Speaking of harmless, today you’re going to meet Dr. Miguel Silva. He’s the man I report to. He’s headed up MOG for over fifteen years.”
Alexa walked across the cool tiles of the floor to the washbasin. She needed to brush her teeth. “I thought MOG was your baby, Max.”
“I’m the pretty face that makes the presentations. Miguel is one of the original founders,” she said. “He spends most of his time in South America, where he lives. He doesn’t like to travel, so he stays put while I get to rack up my frequent flyer miles. One day, I’m going to have enough points to buy a house.” Alexa laughed at her remark. “But as I said, Miguel is harmless. His bark is worse than his bite. I wanted you to know in advance, since you’re assigned to help him today.”
Alexa shrugged. “How bad can the man be?”
An hour later, after a quick shower and a breakfast of fried plantains and bacon, Alexa made her entrance through the back door of the clinic. She felt rejuvenated from yesterday’s hard work. Now, she was ready to get down to the real business of helping others. The other doctors were busy stocking the supply cabinets and setting up makeshift cots. She noticed a new member of the group giving the orders. He was a handsome man, with smooth, darkly tanned skin and jet black, curly hair. She’d learned that just like Black Americans, Brazilians came in all shades. This was due to the inter-breeding of European settlers, Black slaves, and local Indians hundreds of years ago. With his skin color and frizzy hair, Dr. Silva looked African-American. If she hadn’t heard the sight accent when he spoke, she would be none the wiser.
She approached him and tried to introduce herself. “Hello, I’m Dr. Kennedy.”
“You’re late,” he said, rudely tossing her a white lab coat.
Well, good morning to you, too! “I didn’t know we had to punch a clock,” she joked.
He pieced her with eyes that rivaled the finest black Onyx. “You have a fiercely independent streak,” he observed. “In Brazil, we call it cabeçudo.”
She didn’t need a translator to know that word meant headstrong in Portuguese.
“That can be a blessing or a detriment,” he continued. “I could care less one way or the other. But I hate to keep them waiting.” He pulled back the curtains on the small window and Alexa saw hoards of people lined up outside the door.
Her mouth dropped in astonishment. “Are all of those people here to see us?”
“Yes.” He placed his stethoscope around his neck. “Many have been waiting months to see a doctor. Some have traveled hundreds of miles on foot to get here. They risk the displeasure of their husbands and other family members for being here. Just so you know, Kennedy, we have no time clock here. We are motivated by the frantic beating of our hearts and the urgent desire to help those in need.” He peered at her as if she were a naughty child stuck in time out. “Now, if you’ve had enough beauty rest, I’ll open the door and we can get started.”
Alexa donned her lab coat and remained silent. Already, she was off to a pissy start with her new boss. She had to remember, she was here to help others, not start a war of her own. She would bite her tongue for now and let her work speak for itself.
That was easier said than done. Dr. Silva kept her moving at an Olympic pace. He had her running ragged, fetching antibiotics, wrapping burned limbs, and making a chart for each person they examined. Most of the people who came through the door fell into two categories: those who suffered from mild burns that could be easily tended to, and those who had scars from old burns that had gone untreated. She examined an old woman who had been burned in a kitchen fire over ten years ago. Bumpy skin resembling gnarled wood stood out prominently on her arms. In her case, nothing could be done except corrective surgery. And with money so limited, those resources would be saved for children who needed the services most. Unfortunately, she had to tell the woman there was nothing she could do.
The doctors at the clinic saw a steady stream of patients for the remainder of the day. Alexa felt like a school nurse attending a never-ending line of sick students. She wordlessly worked by Dr. Silva’s side. Because he spoke fluent Portuguese, he made the initial consultation with each patient, and then she patched the person up and sent them on their way. Her previous attempts at light conversation went largely ignored by him, so she decided to give him the silent treatment. When he did speak to her, his tone was brusque and demanding. She couldn’t decide if he was still angry with her, or if he was simply a male chauvinist pig. She didn’t see him talking to the male doctors the way he talked to her. She knew she shouldn’t let him get her panties in a knot, but he’d rubbed her the wrong way too many times already. She felt like she was dealing with a Brazilian Ben Peterson.
She made a mental note that when they were finished she was going to give him a tongue-lashing he would never forget. She didn’t
give a damn who he was. There was no way she was going to let him treat her like this.
You think I’m cabeçudo? Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!
Chapter Fourteen
Alexa regained her focus when she saw two women wheeling a third woman in on a makeshift wagon. The woman in the wagon was propped up on her back, supported by a stack of pillows. But she looked far from comfortable. A pained expression and sad, dark eyes dominated her thin face. Alexa was already growing used to that pitiful, hollow gaze she saw in many of the women who came to the clinic. Sure, a few stood out with their shoulders squared, backs straight, and eyes watchful. But those were far fewer in number. Most were similar to the woman in the wagon.
She was a study in art. Her thick eyebrows were the blackest black, practically meeting in the middle of her forehead, like a self-portrait of Frida Kahlo. Her mouth was lop-sided and twisted to the right side, like a grotesque Salvador Dali painting. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a loose bun. It was dull and lifeless.
When Alexa peeled back the woman’s thin dress and saw the gruesome burns that covered her body from her thighs to her ankles, her breath caught in her throat. Charred, red skin etched angry streaks into the woman’s delicate skin. Seeing trauma like this was a delicate balancing act for her. She kept her professional mask in place, but silently, she wanted to recoil from the horrors of the burnt flesh. She could feel Dr. Silva looking at her out of the corner of his eye. He approached and spoke with the woman in rapid Portuguese. Alexa could barely follow the conversation. She waited patiently as Dr. Silva took his time examining the woman. One of the women who carried her in wept silently, trying her best to muffle her cries against the palm of her hand. The other woman was clearly fearful. She kept looking over her shoulder, her pretty, wide eyes scanning the horizon. In search of what, Alexa did not know.
When Dr. Silva wasn’t readily forthcoming with any information, Alexa pried it out of him. “Well, what happened to her?” she finally asked.
“Last night, she was set on fire by her husband,” he informed her. “He came home drunk and accused her of cheating with another man. She was in bed alone and he poured alcohol on her and then threw a match onto the bed. It looks like she’s suffered second-degree burns on both legs.”
Alexa fought to control her anger. “That son-of-a-bitch!” she hissed. “How dare he do that to a woman? How dare he do that to anyone? Tell her she needs to leave him immediately.”
“Our place is not to judge,” Dr. Silva said as he stoically examined the woman’s burns. “It is our job to repair the damage, not to give marriage counseling.”
“Someone should at least report him to the authorities.”
He shook his head. “Her husband is one of the authorities. So, she will not report this.”
“Then, I’ll do it for her,” Alexa threatened. “The law requires physicians to report any abuse, even if the victim doesn’t want to press charges.”
He stopped briefly to glare at her. “Maybe that is how it is in America, Kennedy. You assume the laws are the same everywhere in the world.”
“The laws of human decency are the same. No woman should be subjected to this type of treatment. It’s savage. I’m telling you, we have to do something.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he warned. “Regardless of your personal convictions, in this country there are consequences for what you’re thinking of doing.”
“So, I’m supposed to let threats keep me from my duty as a doctor? I can’t believe I’m even having this discussion with you.”
“And I can’t believe you are being so selfish.”
“Selfish? How is wanting to help a woman set on fire by a jealous bastard being selfish?” she demanded.
He turned back to the patient but continued to speak to her. “You’ve given no thought to what she wants. She’s an innocent victim and you are dragging her into your grand plans. Retaliation is standard practice here. Not only for you, but for her as well.”
She hesitated. She hadn’t thought of it that way. She was only trying to do what she thought was right. But now Dr. Silva was taking the steam out her argument. “I’m still not totally convinced,” she said backing down a little. “I’ll have an interpreter talk to her later and I’ll ask her what she wants to do. She may surprise you. After all, she was brave enough to come in here. I’ll be brave enough to help her, if she wants me to.”
He reached for a tube of Silvadene healing cream lying nearby. “Bravery is an admirable trait, Kennedy. But even as brave as you seem to be, I promise you don’t want to tangle with the corrupt Brazilian Polícia.” He pinned her with a serious look. “You may never make back to the States in one piece.”
She swallowed the lump of fear that had grown unchecked in her throat. He was right, of course. She was a visitor in a foreign country. She was here for a purpose, and she could not complete that purpose if she were dead.
“In the meantime,” Dr. Silva continued, “I need you to stop thinking like a prosecutor and start thinking like a doctor. We’ve got to get this woman bandaged up and taken care of. You can get back on top of your soapbox when your shift is over. Right now, I need you to come back down to earth with the rest of us.”
She nodded her agreement and refrained from giving any further opinion on the matter. She knew the burned woman didn’t speak English, but she seemed to understand their agitated tones, so Alexa made sure to give her an encouraging smile each time their eyes met. Deep inside, she was glad she lived in a country where women had human rights.
Unbelievably, it had taken a trip to another continent to make her fully appreciate the United States.
By the end of the day, she felt like she’d been flattened by a steamroller. The endless flow of patients ensured that she’d had no time to take a break. She vaguely remembered drinking a glass of water, but other than that, she hadn’t slowed down for a second. When she glanced out the window and saw fading streaks of crimson brushed across the landscape, she realized it was dusk. They’d literally been working from sunup to sundown. She took a moment to marvel at the beautiful Brazilian sunset. No matter where she was on earth, the sunset was always impressive. She remembered the last spectacular sunset she’d seen in Texas, the night Tristan stood her up. Metaphorically, the sun had also set on their relationship.
Though she could hardly call it a relationship. So what was it? Infatuation? Fleeting passion? Incredible sex? No, it had been more than just physical. A seed had been planted that took root within her and refused to die. She’d felt a deep connection with Tristan that stunned her with the force of its intensity. So much so that she’d jumped in, nose wide open. And promptly got punched in it. That was definitely a rude awakening that she could have dealt without.
“All right, Kennedy, we are finished for today,” a cold voice pulled her out of her trance.
She turned toward the sound of Dr. Silva’s voice. He hadn’t spoken to her, other than to bark his orders. He’d never said thanks or given her one word of praise. She looked around to make certain everyone the clinic was empty before she gave him a piece of her mind. “Now that we’re alone, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“You handled Mrs. Gonzales well today,” he interrupted.
“Who?” she asked.
“The woman who was burned by her husband.” He walked toward her and gave her the gift of a tight smile. He looked as though it took all of his strength to make his lip muscles curve upward. She was surprised by his compliment, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook.
“I simply followed your lead,” she replied. “No matter how calloused it seemed.”
He stared at her and his look softened. Once again, he shocked her when his hand reached out to brush an errant hair from her face. His fingers were warm as they came into contact with her cheek. She pulled back, not sure how to take his actions.
“I am not a monster,” he said, defending his actions. “But I must become emotionally detach
ed when dealing with patients. I serve them best when I am unfettered by any personal feelings.”
“I’m not buying that crap,” Alexa argued. “I have a personal stake in each of my patients. And I don’t think it makes me any less effective as a doctor.”
“Yes, I saw it in your work today,” he said. “You and I simply have different methods.”
“Truly, I would hate to have you as my physician,” she told him. “You’re so,” she paused and searched for a better word, but finding none, went with the first that came to mind, “cold-hearted. I want a doctor who actually cares about me as a patient.”
His dark eyes flashed. “I do care about people. I wanted to strangle her husband for what he did.”
“Well, why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you have my back?”
“I already told you, behavior like that won’t change anything.”
“Maybe not for you, but for me it would. Someone has to step up.”
“The fact that you are here helping is good enough. If not for doctors volunteering at this clinic, women like her would have to suffer in silence.”
“I wish her sadistic husband would suffer. In front of a firing squad would be perfect.”
He shook his head. “You are a firecracker, Kennedy.”
She defiantly crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t call me that. Firecrackers explode, and then fizzle out. Their sole purpose is to amuse people. I am not a firecracker.”
“Okay, what would you prefer I call you?”
“Doctor would be nice,” she ground out. “I don’t know what the procedure is in Brazil, but I went to medical school for six years to earn that title. If you took the time to stop treating me like a second-class citizen, you’d realize I’m damn good at what I do.”