“My dad told me I could make it all up to him by connecting him with the families of my new friends.” He steered around a pack of dwarf goats in the road. “Why don’t we talk about your dad instead, Jayne?”
He guided the car back on the road again, leading them closer to the long stucco building, surrounded by smaller outbuildings. The slight detour off the road jounced her in the seat, hard, almost as if he’d deliberately bounced her around.
She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, message received.”
Her husband wasn’t as open to talking this morning, but she wouldn’t give up. She would simply wait for a better opening while they spent their day at… Not a school at all.
He’d driven her to a medical clinic.
Nine
Conrad watched his wife, curious as to what she would think of the clinic he’d built. Because yes, he’d built it as a tribute to her and the light she’d brought to his world. Regardless of how their marriage had broken up in the end, his four years with her were the best in his life.
She asked him all those questions about his father and the arrest, looking for ways to exonerate him because she had such a generous and forgiving heart. But she didn’t seem to grasp he’d done the crime. He was guilty of a serious wrong, no justification.
His life now had to be devoted to a very narrow path of making things right. The small hospital was a part of that thanks to a mission to the region nearly four years ago that had left a mark on him. He’d been aiding in an investigation tracing heroin traffic through a casino in South Africa, the trail leading him up the coast. He wasn’t an agent so much as a facilitator to lend effective covers and information about people in his wealthy world. They’d taken down the kingpin in that case, but Conrad hadn’t felt the rush of victory.
Not that time.
His nights had been haunted by visions of the Agberos, street children and teens also known as “area boys.” They were loosely organized gangs forced into crime. And no matter how many kingpins Conrad took out, another would slide into place. There was no Salvatore to look after those boys, to change their lives with a do-over.
Conrad opened Jayne’s car door, her reaction so damn important to him right now that his chest went tight with each drag of air. Lines of patients filed into the door, locals wearing anything from jeans and
T-shirts to colorful local cloths wrapped in a timeless way. They were here for anything from vaccinations to prenatal care to HIV/AIDS treatment.
The most gut-wrenching of all? The ones here for both prenatal care and HIV treatment. There was a desperate need here and he couldn’t help everyone, but one at a time, he was doing his damnedest.
He wasn’t a Salvatore sort, but he could at least give these kids some relief in their lives. He could make sure they grew up healthy, and those that couldn’t would have a fighting chance against the HIV devastating so many lives in Africa.
Jayne placed her hand in his and stepped out of the SUV. “Interesting choice for an outing.”
“I thought since you’re a nurse, you would like to see the facility.”
“It’s so much more than I would have expected in such a rural community.”
“It feeds into the population of three villages, and there are patients who drive in from even farther.”
She shaded her eyes against the sun, turning for the full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of everything from the one-story building to storage buildings. The place even had a playground, currently packed with young kids playing a loosely organized game of soccer, kicking up a cloud of dust around them. A brindle dog bounded along with them, jumping and racing for the ball, reminding him of little Mimi.
Patients arrived in cars and on foot, some wearing westernized clothes and others in brightly colored native wear. A delivery truck and ambulance were parked off to the side. Not brand-spanking-new, but well maintained.
They’d accomplished a lot here in a few short years.
He pointed to the doctor pushing through the front double doors. Conrad had given the doc a call to be on the lookout for them. “And here’s our guide. Dr. Rowan Boothe.”
Another former Salvatore protégé.
Jayne halted Conrad with a hand on his arm. “Is it okay if we just wander around? I don’t want to get in anyone’s way or disrupt anyone’s routine.”
The doctor stopped at the end of the walkway, stethoscope around his neck, hands in the pockets of his lab coat.
“Ma’am, don’t worry about the tour. He owns the place.” Boothe said it in a way that didn’t sound like a compliment.
Not a surprise.
He and Boothe hadn’t been friends—far from it. From day one, the sanctimonious do-gooder had kept to himself. Getting a read off him had been tough. On the one hand, he’d picked fights and then on the other, Boothe damn near martyred himself working community service hours.
The doc didn’t much like Conrad, and Conrad didn’t blame him. Conrad had given Boothe hell over his do-gooder attitude. But Conrad couldn’t deny the guy’s skill and his dedication. Boothe was the perfect fit for this place, and probably even a better fit for Jayne.
Damn.
Where the hell had that come from?
Suddenly it mattered too much to him that Jayne approve of the clinic. He was starting to want her to see him as the good guy and that was dangerous ground.
Damn it all to hell. He needed distance, or before he knew it, she would start asking more questions, probing around in his past for an honorability that just wasn’t there.
“Jayne, you’re in good hands here. I’m going to tend to some business.”
* * *
Jayne’s head was spinning as fast as the test tubes in the centrifuge. Her slip-on loafers squeaked along the pristine tile floors as she turned to follow Dr. Boothe into the corridor, her tour almost complete.
One wing held a thirty-bed hospital and the other wing housed a clinic. Not overly large, but all top-of-the-line and designed for efficiency. The antibacterial scent saturated each breath she took, the familiarity of the environment wrapping her in comfort.
She’d expected Conrad to romance her today. That’s what Conrad did, big gifts and trips. He remembered her preferences from cream-filled pastries to Italian opera.
But this? He’d always seemed to think her nursing was just a job and she’d followed his lead, figuring someone else needed the job she would have taken up. She’d had plenty of money as his wife… But God, after six months, she’d become restless and by the end of the first year, she’d missed her job so much her teeth ached.
Walking down the center hall of the clinic, she couldn’t stop thinking maybe he had seen her need there at the end, that he’d been planning this for her. Had she given up on them too soon?
Dr. Rowan Boothe continued his running monologue about the facilities and their focus on childhood immunizations as well as HIV/AIDS treatment and education.
She was impressed and curious. “You and Conrad seem to know each other well. How did you meet?”
The doctor looked more like a retired model than a physician. But from what she’d heard so far, his expertise was undeniable. “We went to high school together.”
North Carolina Military Prep? Was he the kind who’d gone in hopes of joining the military or because of a near brush with the law? Asking felt…rude. And then there was the whole Salvatore issue…an off-limits question altogether. “Hmm, it’s nice when alumni can network.”
He quirked a thick blond eyebrow as they passed the pharmacy. “Yes, I was one of the ‘in trouble’ crowd who now use their powers for good instead of evil.”
“You have a sense of humor about it.”
“That surprises you?” he asked as he held open the door for her, a burst of sunshine sending sparks in front of her eyes.
“What you face here, the tragic cases, the poverty, the limited resources and crime…” She stepped onto the front walkway, shading her eyes. Where was Conrad? “How can you k
eep that upbeat attitude under such crushing odds?”
“People are living longer here because of this clinic. Those children playing over there would have been dead by now without it.” He gestured to a dozen or so boys kicking a soccer ball on a playground beside the clinic. “You said you’re a Hospice nurse now, an E.R. nurse before that. You of all people should understand.”
He had a point.
“You’re right, of course.” Her eyes adjusted to the stark sunshine and out there in the middle of the pack of boys, her husband joined in, kicking the soccer ball.
Laughing?
When was the last time she’d heard him laugh with something other than sarcasm? She couldn’t remember. The sound of him, the sight of him, so relaxed took her breath away. He looked…young. Or rather he looked his age, a man in his early thirties, in the prime of life. Not that he’d looked old before but he’d been so distant and unapproachable.
She glanced at Dr. Boothe. “What was he like back in high school?”
“Moody. Arrogant. He was gangly and wore glasses back then, but he was a brilliant guy and he knew it. Folks called him Mr. Wall Street, because of his dad and what he did with the stock market.” He glanced at her. “But you probably could have guessed all of that.”
She just smiled, hoping he would keep talking if she didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t come from money like most of the guys there, and I wasn’t inordinately talented like Douglas. I had a monster chip on my shoulder. I thought I was better than those overprivileged brats. I caught a lucky break when I was sent there. I didn’t fit in so I kept my distance.” He half smiled. “The sense of humor’s a skill I acquired later.”
“Yet, Conrad brought you here. He must respect you.”
“Yeah, I guess. I have the grades, but so do a lot of doctors who want to save the world. If we’re going to be honest, I’m here because of a cookie.”
“Pardon me? I’m not sure I understand.”
“My mom used to send me these care packages full of peanut butter cookies with M&M’s baked into them. Damn, they were good.” The fond light in his eyes said more about the mother who sent the baked goods. “One day, I was in my bunk, knocking back a couple of those cookies while doing my macro-biology homework. And I looked up to find Conrad staring at those cookies like they were caviar. I knew better than to offer him one. He’d have just thrown it back in my face.”
He leaned against a porch pillar. “We were all pretty angry at life in those days. But I had my cookies and letters from Mom to get me through the days when I didn’t think I could live with the guilt of what I’d done.”
He shook his head. “But back to Conrad. About a week later, I was on my way to the cafeteria when I saw him in the visitation area with his dad. I was jealous as hell since my folks couldn’t afford to fly out to visit me—and then I realized he and his dad were fighting.”
“About what?” She couldn’t help but ask, desperate for this unfiltered look into the teenager Conrad had been during a time in his life that had so tremendously shaped the man he’d become.
“From what Conrad shouted, it was clear his father wanted him to run a scam on Troy’s parents and convince them to invest in some bogus company or another. Conrad decked his dad. It took two security guards to pull him off.”
The image of that betrayal, of the pain and humiliation he must have felt, brought tears to her eyes she knew her overly stoic husband would never have shed for himself. “And the cookie?”
“I’m getting there. Conrad spent a couple of days in the infirmary—his dad hit him back and dislocated Conrad’s shoulder. The cops didn’t press charges on the old man because the son threw the first punch. Anyhow, Conrad’s first day out of the infirmary, I felt bad for him so I wrapped a cookie in a napkin and put it on his bunk. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t toss it back in my face, either.” He threw his hands wide. “And here I am today.”
Her heart hurt so badly she could barely push words out. “You’re killing me, you know that don’t you?”
“Hey, don’t get me wrong. He’s still an arrogant ass, but he’s a good guy if you dig deep.” He grinned. “Really deep.”
She looked back out at her husband playing ball with the kids. His voice rode the breeze as he shouted encouragement and tips, and she couldn’t help but think of the father that had never been there for him. No wonder he was wary of being a parent himself.
But if he could only see himself now. He was such a natural.
She’d dreamed of them having children one day, and she’d hoped he could be a good father. But she’d never dared imagine him like this. She should be happy, hopeful.
Instead she was scared to death. It was one thing to fail at her second chance with Conrad if she would have had to walk away from the same failed marriage she’d left before. But everything was different this time. What if she lost the chance to make Conrad genuinely happy? This chance to touch lives together in Africa?
That would level her.
An older boy booted the soccer ball across the field, a couple of smaller boys chasing it down. The ball rolled farther away, toward a moving truck stacked with water jugs. The vehicle barreled along the dirt road without the least sign of slowing even as the child sprinted closer on skinny little legs.
Her heart leaped into her throat. Dr. Boothe sprang into motion but there was no way he would make it to the child in time.
“Conrad!” Jayne screamed, again and again.
But he was already sprinting toward the kid, who was maybe six or seven years old. Conrad moved like a sleek panther across the ball field, faster than should have been possible. And in a flash, he’d scooped the child up with one arm and stopped a full ten yards away from the truck. He spun the kid around, sunshine streaming down from the sky around them. The little boy’s giggles carried on the breeze as if all was right in the world. And it was. Conrad had the situation firmly in hand.
Her heart hammered in her ears.
A low laugh pulled her attention away from her husband and back to Dr. Boothe. A blush burned up her face over being caught staring at her husband like a lovesick teenager.
God, her feelings for Conrad were so transparent a total stranger could read her.
What did her husband think when he looked at her? Did he think he’d won her over today? If so, she needed to be damn clear on that point. Yes, she was hopeful, but that didn’t mean she was willing to compromise on her dreams.
But what about his dreams?
This close brush with danger revealed her husband’s competence in a snapshot. She’d spent so many nights worried about why he hadn’t called home, but seeing him in action gave her a new appreciation for how well equipped he was for quick action in risky work. He was smart, strong and he had resources. Furthermore, he had lightning reflexes and a will to help others.
Was she being as selfish as she’d once accused him of being by denying him a job that obviously meant a lot to him? A job that was, she now understood, a conduit to forgiving himself for his past? Clearly Conrad needed his work as badly as she needed hers.
That realization hurt, making her feel small and petty for all the accusations she’d hurled at him. He’d deserved better from her then, more understanding. She couldn’t change the past and she didn’t know if they had a future together or not.
But she could control what she did today.
* * *
Conrad started the Land Cruiser, sweat sticking his shirt to his back from the impromptu ball game and the surprise sprint to keep the little Kofi from dashing in front of a moving truck. His head still buzzed with the kick of fear when he’d seen the kid sprint toward the vehicle, unaware of anything but reaching that soccer ball.
Thank God the worst hadn’t happened.
Playing with the kids was the high point of these visits for him, something he always did when he had time here. But today, he’d also needed the outlet after watching Jayne with Boothe, their heads tucked toget
her as they discussed the ins and outs of the clinic.
The day had been a success in every way that mattered, and he was a petty bastard for his foul mood. He wanted to blame the stress on Zhutov, and God knows that added to his tension. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do but wait until the enemy made a move. And once that wait was over?
Hell. The need to take his wife home and imprint himself in her memory, deep in her body, took hold of him. And he couldn’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t follow through on the urge to make love to her until they both fell into an exhausted sleep.
He put the car in Drive and accelerated out of the parking lot. His wife sat beside him with that expression on her face again, like she’d put him under a microscope. He prepped for what he knew would come next.
“That was amazing how fast you reacted when the child ran toward that truck.”
“I just did what anyone would have.” And he’d also had a word with the truck driver about the dangers of speeding past a playground. “Kofi—the kid—spends a lot of time here with his older brother, Ade. Their mother comes regularly for her HIV treatments.”
“Do you know all the kids’ names?”
“Some,” he answered noncommittally.
She sighed in exasperation. “You said before we got on the plane you would tell me anything. Did you mean that?”
“I should have put a limit on how many questions you could ask.” A flock of geese scattered in front of him.
“I’ll go easy on you then. What’s your favorite kind of cookie? I realize I should already know that, and I feel awful for having to ask when you have my favorite pastry memorized, but I realized I really don’t know.”
Cookie? What the hell? “Um, anything with M&M’s. I’m, uh, partial to M&M’s in my cookies.”
She smiled and touched his knee. Apparently he’d answered that one correctly.
“Next question?”
“Why don’t you wear glasses anymore? And why didn’t you ever mention that you used to? You’d think there would be pictures.”
“Boothe,” he said simply. Now he understood why they’d been standing under the awning so long. Boothe had been spouting out crap about the past. “I had Lasik surgery on my eyes so I don’t need glasses anymore. As for photos of me wearing them? They perished in a horrible accident, a trash can fire in Salvatore’s office. A fire extinguisher was sacrificed in the line of duty.”
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