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Revealing The Real Dr Robinson
Dianne Drake


Those who work with Dr Ben Robinson see a compassionate and brilliant doctor.But at night, in the silence of the Argentinian jungle, fragments of his previous life continue to haunt him… Until a whirlwind arrives in the shape of beautiful and zesty Shanna Brooks. Suddenly Ben is forced to look at the world through her eyes and let down his guarded mask.












About the Author


Now that her children have left home, DIANNE DRAKE is finally finding the time to do some of the things she adores—gardening, cooking, reading, shopping for antiques. Her absolute passion in life, however, is adopting abandoned and abused animals. Right now Dianne and her husband Joel have a little menagerie of three dogs and two cats, but that’s always subject to change. A former symphony orchestra member, Dianne now attends the symphony as a spectator several times a month and, when time permits, takes in an occasional football, basketball or hockey game.

Recent titles by Dianne Drake:

THE DOCTOR’S LOST-AND-FOUND HEART

NO.1 DAD IN TEXAS

THE RUNAWAY NURSE

FIREFIGHTER WITH A FROZEN HEART

THE DOCTOR’S REASON TO STAY** (#ulink_e94d29a2-2fe1-5dce-ac3b-dc0d7cbb21c3) FROM BROODING BOSS TO ADORING DAD THE BABY WHO STOLE THE DOCTOR’S HEART* (#ulink_e94d29a2-2fe1-5dce-ac3b-dc0d7cbb21c3)

** (#ulink_dd7a1cab-fb10-5103-aafc-b51ddad78cfd)New York Hospital Heartthrobs* (#ulink_dd7a1cab-fb10-5103-aafc-b51ddad78cfd)Mountain Village Hospital

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk




Revealing the

Real Dr Robinson

Dianne Drake



























www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dear Reader

Welcome back to Argentina! I love jungle settings, don’t you? In this series, which started in Texas with THE NO.1 DAD IN TEXAS, then travelled to Argentina in THE DOCTOR’S LOST-AND-FOUND HEART, I’ve decided to let Dr Ben Robinson stay in the country that captured his heart and fall in love. And fall in love is exactly what he does, in spite of fighting it every step of the way. But the heart always triumphs over the obstacles, and in Ben’s case there are devastating obstacles.

Back in the day, when I was a young nurse and not yet the critical care nurse I turned out to be, I was assigned the one duty I always knew I didn’t want: the burns unit. I’d been warned about the kind of suffering I would see there, and it was a given that the work would be difficult. I didn’t fear hard work, but I didn’t know if I’d have the heart to take care of the suffering I would encounter. But I was new, barely out of school, and couldn’t refuse the assignment.

Yes, I did see suffering such as no one could anticipate. What I also saw, though, was the courage and spirit in my patients. In fact for my first few days on duty there my patients were the ones who helped me through, and I truly believe that was the first real lesson I ever had in the nature of human resilience.

My character Ben Robinson has suffered devastating burns in the past, and in REVEALING THE REAL DR ROBINSON you’ll see some of the same resilience I saw in my patients. This story is about the true triumph of heart and soul in spite of overwhelming odds.

I’m on Facebook now, so please come visit me there at: http://www.facebook.com/DianneDrakeAuthor. Or check out my website at: www.DianneDrake.com. E-mails are appreciated, too: Dianne@DianneDrake.com

As always, wishing you health and happiness!

Dianne




CHAPTER ONE


BEN ROBINSON threw back the peeling wooden shutters, inviting in the crisp morning air. There’d been a dusting of snow in the valley overnight, for which he was glad. New powder on the ski slope, and one more day of skiing left before he returned home—it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

In fact, everything about this holiday had been perfect. First time off in half a decade, first time in that half decade he’d almost relaxed. Tuscany in winter had been his dream, the one he hadn’t expected to achieve given the way he lived his life. This was the best, though. He’d slept late every morning, then every night dined on his favorite indulgences—pastas and sauces and desserts—all of them sure to add an inch to his waistline. In between his indulgences, he’d explored the fairy-tale villages unchanged over the past two centuries, with all their little shelters for shepherds on the high pastures and the breathtaking succession of age-old churches, hermitages, castles and fortresses.

And he’d met Shanna. She’d shared some of that with him—the late-night dinners, the explorations. All very free and easy, but all very nice.

Ben’s thoughts immediately turned to… well, whatever it was that had developed between them. Friendship? Brief acquaintance? Ships that passed in the night? Whatever it was, it was done. She’d had her plans for the day, he’d had his, and tomorrow he’d be gone. So there it was, come, gone, pleasant memories in its wake.

No, he hadn’t had a holiday fling in the traditional sense. No kisses—not even a farewell kiss other than a peck on the cheek. No sleeping in late with her in bed next to him. Certainly no intimacies shared across the table during a late-night dinner. Then last night it had turned into a simple parting of the ways after a pleasant evening without any promises for his last day. Not even a mention of him leaving. But that was the way he’d framed it, wasn’t it? Keep his distance. Enjoy the companionship, but not too much.

Play it safe.

Admittedly, for a moment or two, he’d wondered what might have happened between them if he’d let it. But he didn’t even let that get past the wondering stage. No reason to because he would go home to Argentina alone. Continue his medical practice alone. Live his life alone.

And Shanna… A wistful sigh escaped him. He hoped she would come to the café this morning, the way she had every morning for the past two weeks. One last look would make his day seem a little better. But he wasn’t counting on anything. He never did.

“Is that seat taken?” a familiar voice asked, twenty minutes later.

“Could be,” he said, without looking up at her, for fear she’d read eagerness in his eyes. “If the right person asks politely.”

“Who would she be?”

“Someone who would change her plans for the day. Ski with me now, shop tomorrow when I’m gone.” Said in a matter-of-fact manner, taking great care not to sound hopeful or anxious.

Shanna Brooks. She was bundled up to the eyes with scarves, hat pulled down that almost covered her eyes and wisps of copper hair escaping their confinement, the way he’d come to count on. Breathtaking however she appeared. As she slid into the chair across from Ben, he couldn’t help himself. He had to look across at her beautiful green eyes so full of life.

“That could be me,” she said as the wraps came off her, layer by layer.

Had he really gotten up and walked to the table at the back of the café that first day she’d approached him? Pure insanity. But in his defense he’d stayed the next day and every day after that, feasting his eyes at the ritual of her revealing, the slow peeling away of scarves and hats and mittens. After all, he wasn’t dead, just alone by choice, or design, or whatever the hell it was that had constructed his life to turn out the way it had. “But the question is, is it you?”

Frowning as she tossed her knit cap on the ledge of the picture window next to their table, she appeared to be thinking about her answer. “Did you ever consider that you could go shopping with me?” she finally asked. “Instead of me skiing with you?”

“No,” he said, sounding too abrupt even to his ears. So he pulled back a little. “I’m on a mission. Twelve straight days of skiing without breaking a leg.”

“What if your luck runs out and this is the day you come off the slopes with a tibia fracture?”

“Open?” Meaning bone protruding.

“Too much risk of infection,” she said, tossing her mittens aside then starting to unzip her ski jacket. “I like to keep my fractures a little more straightforward. But I am thinking a tibial shaft fracture of some sort might be good.” Something breaking between the knee and ankle. “Maybe a tibial plateau fracture?” Just below the knee. “Could be you accidentally hit one of those little mogul hills, popped up, crashed back down.”

“No, I don’t think so. Too much risk of late-onset arthritis with a plateau fracture. How about a tibial plafond fracture?” Closer to the ankle. “It has the same degree of seriousness, same lengthy recovery, but less of a risk for long-term disability.”

She smiled brightly, then nodded. “Good idea. And I’ll make sure I’m there after the surgery with all my bundles and packages, because I’m going shopping this morning.”

“More scarves, hats and mittens?”

“A girl can’t have too many.”

“But knowing how I’m going to injure myself on the slopes this morning, would you actually choose mittens over my wounds?” This was dangerous territory. Too close to being flirty. He knew that. But after nearly two weeks he was still no closer to learning why she’d quit her medical practice than he’d been that first day when he’d shunned her at breakfast, only to find her seated next to him on the lift up the mountain.

“Mittens over wounds because I’m still on leave.”

He faked an exasperated expression. “You created my injury, the least you could do is patch me up.”

“Wrong specialty,” she said.

“What was your specialty?” he asked. “Before you quit?” She hadn’t told him. In fact, they’d been five or six days into their relationship before she’d let it slip she was a doctor. Odd thing was, she’d known he was. That had probably been the most he’d revealed about himself, yet she’d kept their similar backgrounds to herself.

“It wasn’t bones,” she said.

Her eyes turned distant. He could see it, see her shutting out whatever it was that seemed to be skimming the surface of her unhappiness. Or aversion. “Never cared much for bones, either. Not after I broke my big toe once.”

“Skiing?” she asked, turning to face him but obviously not focused on the conversation.

“Ever heard of turf toe?” Where a person propelled themselves forward by pushing off on the big toe, resulting in their weight shifting to their other foot. If the toe stayed flat on the ground and didn’t lift to push off, the joint injury, associated with athletes who played on artificial turf, resulted.

That caught her interest for real. “You played soccer? Or football?”

“No. I was chasing an angora goat.”

Her eyes widened. “Not sure I want to ask why.”

He chuckled. “Nothing… untoward. My parents raised goats and sheep for the wool. The one I was shearing got away.”

“Hence turf toe. But that’s a ligament strain, not a break.”

“Or in my case both.”

Laughing, Shanna said, “Poor Ben. He doesn’t even get the glory of claiming some great athletic accident. You don’t really tell many people you had a goat injury, do you? Very embarrassing, Ben. Very.”

“So would someone pointing out how embarrassing my embarrassment was.” He flagged over the server, who immediately brought cups of coffee to the table.

“I don’t suppose I could coax you into a send-off mimosa this morning, could I?” she asked. “Since this is our last morning together.”

“Coffee’s good,” he said. Revealing a goat injury was enough for one day. No need to reveal any more than that.

“Champagne and orange juice is better.” She paused, thought for a moment. A knowing expression tracked across her face in delayed measures as the full awareness of what she’d just realized finally struck her. “But you don’t drink at all, do you? Not a drop.”

“How do you figure?”

“When we’ve had dinner I’ve had wine a few times, yet you’ve always ordered…” She shrugged. “You’re right. Coffee’s good. And you should have told me, Ben. I wouldn’t have…” Shaking her head, she picked up her coffee mug and held on to it for dear life. “I know we’re not involved, but you should have told me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Such a huge lie. But why say anything and ruin a little light flirting, a few pleasant meals, a couple runs down the slope? There was nothing sloppy, nothing sentimental about the two of them and he’d appreciated that because it had been a step totally outside his normal self. Now, though, it was time to step back in, and inside Ben Robinson there was no need to tell anybody anything about himself. Those who knew knew. Those who didn’t never would.

“Nothing except a drinking problem? In the past, I’m assuming. It would have been nice to know, because I wouldn’t have had wine—”

“Wouldn’t have had wine?” he interrupted. “What people do or don’t do around me doesn’t bother me. I’m not influenced.”

“Maybe you’re not influenced, but I don’t like being insensitive. If you’d told me…”

“It would have changed things between us. You would have been a little more on guard. Or wondered what caused me to turn into an alcoholic, which I am, by the way. That wasn’t the kind of relationship we were having.” And now started the awkwardness between them, when all they should have been doing was having a carefree last day. It was another perfect example of why he didn’t get involved. She’d peeled back one of his layers and discovered the first well-guarded aspect of a man called Ben Robinson. Yeah, he was an alcoholic. Yeah, he did still struggle with the temptation occasionally, even though he hadn’t taken a drink in a decade. Yeah, it was a social barrier.

“Or it would have been a reference in passing. Not everybody is harsh in their judgments, Ben. Trust me, I understand how moments of weakness can escalate. But you’re right. We didn’t establish the kind of relationship where confessions were required. Anyway, I’ve enjoyed our connection for what it was—a few hours of fun with a man who speaks my language. It made my sabbatical easier.” She reached across and squeezed his hand. “Although I am sorry you struggled with alcohol, Ben. Glad you made it through, but sorry for whatever took you on that journey.” She fixed her gaze on the view of the mountain as she let go of his hand.

Then breakfast came, they ate, made light conversation about insignificant things, endured more silence between them than they had before. And it was over. Done. They descended into that so-called mutual parting of the ways of infamous fame and he went to ski while she went to shop. Afterward Ben Robinson, forever alone as he’d pledged himself to be, spent the thirty-six hours that came in a plane or between flights wondering why the hell he hadn’t just lived in the moment for once. Or lived for the moment.

“Because reality returns after the moment,” he muttered to himself, fastening his seat belt as he prepared for the last stretch of his journey home. Fourteen hours in the air left him with a lot of time to think, a lot of time to regret.

“Coffee, tea, soft drink? Glass of wine?” the flight attendant asked him as he tried stretching out his lanky legs in too tight a space. “Or a cocktail, sir? We have all the standards—gin, vodka, Scotch…”

Glancing at the beverage cart, he saw the array of small booze bottles, all ready for pouring. Except he didn’t drink anymore. That was what he’d told Shanna, and that was the way he’d lived his life for a long, long time now.

Even so, nights like this weakened his resolve. Made it tougher on him to fight when he wasn’t sure what he was fighting more—the booze, or himself.

Then he thought about Shanna’s green eyes, and the way she’d looked at him that first morning when all she’d really wanted was the view of the mountain he had. He’d seen vitality, a spark that had made him change his ways for the duration of his holiday. He’d opened the door just a crack to let somebody in. Only now the holiday was over and Shanna was but a memory. And like every other time he’d been tempted to break his resolve, he’d take a deep breath and remind himself about his responsibilities. Then stay on track. “Water, please,” he told the attendant. “Water will be fine.”

“Okay, Ben Robinson, just who are you?” Two days ago he’d left her sitting in the café, wondering what it was about her that clearly hadn’t inspired his trust. And it wasn’t just about his drinking. It was about everything. They’d spent some nice time together, but every minute of it had shown her how obviously distant he was. More than that, how distant he wanted to stay. Being alone together—that was how she’d felt when she’d been with him. Alone. They’d shared a ski lift, shared meals, shared a few walks, shared time. What he hadn’t shared had been himself.

“So who are you, really?” she asked her computer screen as she typed his name into a search engine. “And why are you in Argentina?” The even bigger question was, Where in Argentina? Because it was only after he’d gone that she’d realized she didn’t know. Realized she didn’t even have his phone number. Realized he had merely been a stranger passing through, stopping for a few moments without making a connection.

Except he had. She wasn’t sure what kind it was, but here she was, looking for information about him, wondering what it was about Ben Robinson that pulled her in.

Maybe it was a simple thing, really. He was so found, and she was so lost. Found had a certain sense of stability to it. A security she’d thought she had but had then discovered it had all been an illusion. Ben didn’t give in to illusions. Didn’t even let them come near. Sure, it was a harsh way to live your life, but there was safety in that harshness, and that was what she needed—that safety. Because the rug had been pulled out from under her. All those things she’d defined her life by—gone now. One tug and she was flailing.

But Ben had flailed, hadn’t he? The scars on his neck accounted for some kind of flailing. So did the alcohol. He’d recovered, though, and that was what eluded her. How to recover. How to even start. Or where to start. Which was why she was keying in his name and connecting it to Argentina medical facilities.

Her life was open now. She had no place to be and nothing to do until she figured out how to be someone else. A journey to start over—that was essentially what she was about. And Ben knew that journey. It was, in a word, dispassion. It’s where he lived, where he succeeded. It’s where she needed to live and succeed if she were to continue in medicine. Because if she couldn’t find that place in her own soul, what she loved would destroy her. So her choices were two: learn how to separate herself completely from her passion; or walk away from it altogether.

That was why Ben fascinated her. He’d separated himself. She’d seen that the first morning he’d refused to sit across the table from her, then later sitting shoulder to shoulder on a ski lift with her in near silence. Yet he was a doctor. Owned a little hospital. It didn’t seem to jibe. Or maybe it did. Maybe Ben was the master of that separation she needed to find, and embrace.

“I’m probably crazy, Ben,” she said to the screen as a series of links popped up, none of them leading her to her object of fascination. “But I don’t think we’re through. If I can find you…” she said to the next futile attempt. The one after that she cursed, and the one after that she merely grunted at. But the next attempt… maybe not so futile. “Are you my Ben Robinson?” she asked the figure who finally popped up on her screen. Handsome, not a particularly friendly smile on his face. Same eyes, only hidden behind glasses. Shorter hair, no three-day growth of beard covering his face.

“Dr. Benjamin Robinson, owner and director of…” Shanna breathed a sigh of relief. No, she wasn’t crazy. She was simply looking for a way home and Ben was the map. So, with that in mind, Dr. Shanna Brooks booked a plane ticket, packed her bags and headed to Argentina.

“Are you finally back in the swing of things?” Dr. Amanda Kenner asked her brother. “Or do you need some holiday recovery time?”

“Another week or two in Tuscany would work. But if I can’t have that then, yes, I’m back in the swing of things.” He gestured for her to follow him through the central ward in the forty-patient-capacity hospital called Caridad. There were no epidemics now, thanks to Amanda’s husband, who’d solved a recent crisis with giardiasis. But there were still patients to be seen, and he was glad to be back on steady ground. This was where he belonged, and as much as he’d loved Tuscany, waiting another half decade for his next holiday would suit him fine. Getting away was good, but this is where he belonged.

Although… his thoughts drifted back to Shanna. Thoughts filled with regrets and missed opportunities. He was a normal man in those things, had desires, hopes and dreams. But he also had his reality, the one that told him who he was every time he looked into a mirror. And that was the fact of his life that never changed.

“You couldn’t stand being away any longer,” Amanda teased. “In fact, I’m surprised you stayed as long as you did.”

“It was a nice place. Good food, the best skiing I’ve ever done. And Signora Palmadessa ran an outstanding little inn. But it was a holiday, and we can’t spend our lives on holiday, can we?”

“Am I hearing some sadness in your voice?” Amanda asked.

He shook his head. “Exhaustion. It was a long trip home.” Emotionally and physically.

Before they walked through the doors of the ward, Amanda stopped in front of her brother and studied his face for a moment. “You met someone there, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Not like you think, though.”

“But you fell in love with her. You had a holiday fling and fell in love.”

“No fling, no falling in love. She was just a nice way to pass some pleasant hours. Someone to take the stigma off eating alone. No big deal, really.”

“Then why the wistful sigh?”

“Not wistful. Agitated. I have patients to see and you’re standing in my way.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Ben. Whatever it was between you, whoever she was, I’m sorry it didn’t work out, because I was truly hoping you’d meet a beautiful Tuscan woman who’d steal your heart at first sight, then you’d have some kind of wild adventure with her. Maybe even get married and send me an email telling me you were staying there to have a full life and lots of babies.”

She backed away from Ben and brushed tears from her eyes. “Anything that makes you happy… that’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“I know and I appreciate it. But I’m reconciled to what I have, what I am, Amanda,” he said gently. “It’s taken me a lot of years to come to terms with it, but it’s a decent choice, all things considered. So now it’s your turn to comes to terms with it. Okay?” Being alone had been his choice since he’d been fifteen. More strongly confirmed at age twenty-two with a fiancée, Nancy Collier, who’d gasped, but not in ecstasy, the first time they’d made love. Or attempted to.

The look on her face then the apologies and the discomfort… no man wanted to face that. But what he’d faced that day, even more than Nancy’s repulsion over his physical scars, had been the fact that this was the way it was always going to be. One look at the monster, and people turned away. And that was what unleashed the real monster.

Now it was easier to not let them look.

“No, it’s not okay. Your choice is too hard, Ben. You’re too hard on yourself, and it worries me, because if someone wonderful did come along…”

Someone wonderful, like Shanna… “It is what it is. My life is good, I’m not alone.” Subconsciously, he brushed his fingers across the scars on his neck. “And you’re too sentimental right now. Pregnancy hormones running amuck with your emotions, or something like that. How’s my nephew, by the way?” he asked, fervently hoping to get off the circumstances of his life, for which there was no solution. “I’ve missed him. Wondered how he was settling into family life.” He was referring to Ezequiel, the twelve-year-old Amanda and Jack had recently adopted. Also the sure proof there were happy endings out there. Just not for him.

“He and Jack are out on a medical run, but they should be back in a couple of days. Jack decided it’s good to take Ezequiel with him whenever he can when he goes out on short trips. It gives them some quality father-son time, and also gives Ezequiel a sense of purpose, pretending to be a doctor’s assistant.” She smiled with pride. “My new son is like a sponge. He absorbs everything, and he’s so anxious to learn and experience new things. I think he might be a doctor someday.”

“Children have so many expectations at that age,” Ben commented as he stepped around Amanda and pulled open the door to the women’s ward. He’d had those same expectations once. Not about being a doctor so much as the other things life might hold in store for him. In his youthful naivety he had just been waiting for the world to open up for him so he could take whatever he wanted.

Then one day it had ended. Everything. No more expectations, no more youthful hopes and dreams because those didn’t happen where he’d spent the next year of his life—in a burns ward, fighting for his life, going through skin graft after skin graft, battling any number of opportunistic infections trying to kill him by various degrees.

Those had been the days when his expectations had turned away from the world and centered only on surviving through the next few minutes, the next hour, the next day.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” she said as they walked shoulder to shoulder to their first patient. “Your affair in Tuscany. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“There was nothing to work out,” he said, stopping short of the bed where his first patient was dozing, then turned to face his sister. “See, that’s the thing. She wasn’t into me. If she had been, I wouldn’t have spent those few days with her. That’s the way it is, Amanda, and it’s not going to change.” He gave her a squeeze on the arm. “I love you for trying, but you’ve more important things to worry about now. And in the meantime I’ve got a middle-aged woman, bad diet, uncontrolled diabetes to look after.”

“Do you remember that treehouse Dad built us?” Amanda asked.

“The one where I wouldn’t let girls inside?” he replied, wondering where this was going.

“But I always managed to get in, Ben.”

“And left dolls there.”

“I knew you didn’t want a sister, knew you felt threatened when Mom and Dad adopted me. I was only five, but I could see it in you. See the resentment and the fear that maybe they were replacing you with me. It shows, Ben. It always shows on you.”

“But we eventually had fun there when I finally managed to get rid of the dolls.”

“And the pink curtains Mother made for the treehouse.”

Good memories, those days when his family had been happy. They were good to hold on to, especially when the darker days had prevailed. “So, are you thinking we should build a treehouse for Ezequiel? Is that where this conversation is leading?”

“You know it’s not,” she whispered, fighting back tears. “In the days before you accepted me as your sister, you hid in that treehouse. Refused to come out. I watched from my bedroom window. Could see you in there angry, hurt… crying. Ben, you have to come out of the treehouse. You can’t spend your whole life hiding.”

“I run a hospital. I work twenty hours a day, seven days a week. That’s not hiding.”

“There are different ways to hide, Ben.” She swiped at her tears. “Anyway, you’ve got patients to see, I’ve got patients to see…”

“I’m fine, Amanda,” he said as she walked away. She didn’t answer, though. Just kept on walking. And he… well, he just tried to blot it out of his mind. What else was there?

“So, I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon,” he said, turning his attention to his patient as he pulled up a chair next to the bed, and sat down. “It’s only been three weeks, Maria, which means we need to talk again about the things that can happen to you if you don’t take better care of yourself.” Said to a lady who was eyeing a plate of pastries next to her bed, left there by a too-sympathetic husband.

Sighing, Ben began the spiel he’d used on her ten times before. Apparently to no avail again. But he understood. It was never easy giving up what you loved, or what you wanted, no matter what the reason. Sometimes, though, life was just plain cruel and forced it on you. “First, you could have heart complications…” Something he assiduously avoided in his personal life.




CHAPTER TWO


“THAT way,” the disagreeable driver grunted. The filter of his cigarette was stuck between his lips, just hanging there, no more cigarette left to smoke. “I don’t go there.”

“I’m not surprised,” she quipped, tossing her oversized duffel on the ground outside the taxi, not expecting the driver to help her. Which he didn’t. But he was quick to extend his meaty hand out the window for a tip. The only tip she wanted to give him was to quit smoking and adopt a better disposition, but handing him a few pesos was easier. So she handed him a fist full of notes, then watched as he counted his money, grunted, then drove off without a care or concern over how she was going to accomplish the next leg of her journey.

For all she knew, she was nowhere near the village, called Aldea de Cascada—village by the waterfall—which she’d been told was also called Aldea de Hospital, thanks to Ben’s hospital.

Major disillusion certainly caused major life changes. And the gnats swarming her, either to glom onto the carbon dioxide was she exhaling or the sweat she was sweating like she’d never sweated before, were sure testament to that.

“Okay,” she said, picking up the duffel and slinging it over her shoulder, which threw her off balance and sent her tumbling backward a couple of steps. “Just do it. You want your life back, this is how you’ll get it.”

Shanna gained her balance at the same time she gained her bearings, and headed off down the narrow grassy path she hoped would lead either to her destination or to someplace where someone else could point her in the right direction. At this juncture, there weren’t many options. The sun was already getting groggy in the sky, so if she didn’t land somewhere soon, the chances looked good for her spending the night out here. Not an appealing thought, sleeping alone in the jungle where who knew what kinds of predators were lurking.

Thing was, the darned bag weighed her down, which slowed her down. But leaving it, maybe coming back tomorrow to get it, wasn’t an option. If something happened to it, if it disappeared overnight… She hadn’t brought much on this journey, but she wasn’t about to do without the few creature comforts she’d included. So she redoubled her efforts, focused only on the trail ahead of her, and bore down for the march. Thinking on every step of it how she was going to explain herself to Ben without looking like an idiot, a total lunatic or both.

A few casual days in a tiny Italian village weren’t enough to compel anyone to do what she was doing. Especially given the way those days had gone. He’d been there but, in so many ways, he hadn’t been. And that was what she needed to learn from him. How to switch off her feelings and simply get on with it. That’s the way he lived his life, being an outstanding doctor, no emotional involvement attached to it. Precisely what she needed to learn. And now she’d traveled halfway around the world to get it, or come to terms with what she would do with the rest of her life if she couldn’t. Because heart-on-the-sleeve medicine didn’t work in the Brooks medical world.

“Ayúdeme por favor. Mi madre fue mordida por una serpiente. Está muy enferma. No puede mover. Pienso que se morirá. Ayúdeme por favor!”

A young girl, probably no more than ten, appeared on the road and grabbed hold of Shanna’s duffel. Not to steal it. Shanna understood that. The child was terrified because, from what Shanna could gather, her mother had been bitten by a snake. Una serpiente. Wasn’t moving. Possibly dying, or already dead.

“Is she breathing?” Shanna asked instinctively, before she’d had a chance to think that the girl probably spoke no English. “Respirar. ¿Respira su madre?” she repeated, grateful for some family urging in the direction of languages.

“Yo no sé. Está en el suelo, como duerme. Pero yo no sé si puede respirar.”

Unconscious, on the ground. Status of her breathing unknown. “¿Sabe donde el hospital es?” She was asking the girl if she knew where the hospital was.

The girl nodded then pointed straight ahead on the trail.

“¿Es muy distante?”Very far?

The girl shook her head. “No.”

“Bueno. Por favor, corre al hospital, los dice lo que usted me dijo, y los dice que hay ya un médico con su madre, pero necesitan alguien que puede ayudar a conseguirla al hospital.” She was telling the girl to run ahead to the hospital for help, but the look on the girl’s face indicated she either didn’t understand or might be afraid to do so. “¿Lo que es su nombre?” she asked the girl as they made their way through the grasses.

“Valeria,” she said.

“Eso es un hermoso nombre.”Beautiful name.

“Agradecimiento.”

Valeria smiled politely with her thank-you, even though she was so scared. Shanna was impressed by the girl’s manners, especially given the circumstances. Grace under pressure. Something she needed to master. “¿Y qué es el nombre de su madre?”

“Su nombre está Ines.”

The mother’s name was Ines. Just as that little bit of knowledge sank in, they rounded a clump of tall pampas grass, where Ines was sprawled on the ground. Breathing, thank God! But barely.

Shanna dropped her bag to the ground, knelt to open it, then had second thoughts about snakes. Pit vipers were prevalent here. At least, that was what she’d read on the plane. That, and so many other disjointed facts about Argentina. So she stayed half upright, half bending, and grabbed the few medical supplies she’d been allowed to carry in. No medicines, just equipment. Which wouldn’t save the woman’s life. “Soy médico, Valeria. Pero debo ayudar. Por eso yo deseo que vaya al hospital.” I’m a doctor, but I need help.

Back home, help had been at hand with just the push of a button. Out here, she didn’t know. And as she wrapped her stethoscope around her neck and clicked on her penlight, she wasn’t even sure the kind of help she might have had back home would do much good, given what she was already seeing in Ines.

Truth was, if the bite had come from a pit viper, the only possible treatment was antivenin. “Debo ayudar.” Yes, she needed help, especially when her first take of the woman’s pulse revealed tachycardia. Pulse much too fast and starting to skip some beats. In addition, there was swelling on her left ankle where the bite area was, not only very puffy but red and hot to the touch.

Shanna imagined other symptoms had occurred while the child had waited there with her mother, probably hoping someone would come along to help them—difficulty with speaking, muscle weakness, dizziness before passing out, excessive sweating, blurred vision, maybe even some paralysis.

While she’d never had to treat a venomous snake bite as a family practitioner, she’d certainly studied them in medical school. Which was nothing like encountering one in front of her. Because what she remembered from her studies was that without fast treatment death followed coma. And the blue tinge developing around Ines’s lips was a precursor to death.

“¿Puede correr al hospital, Valeria?” Even though she asked Valeria again to run to the hospital, Shanna wasn’t sure it would make much difference. Time was elapsing and she had no idea how long ago Ines had been bitten. But the woman was still breathing, which meant there was still hope. Only at Ben Robinson’s hospital, though, and only if Ben stocked the right kinds of antivenin.

The child tugged on Shanna’s shirt. “Sí, puedo. Pero tengo a amigos cerca que puede ayudar a llevar a mi madre allí. Creo que sería más rápido.”

She had friends who could carry Ines there faster. Shanna kept her fingers crossed as she shooed Valeria off to fetch these friends. “Tan rápidamente como usted puede,” she urged the child, even though she didn’t know if Valeria’s fast would be fast enough.

In the meantime, Shanna kept vigil over Ines, washing the snake wound the best she could with bottled water. There’d been a time when making a tourniquet had been the field standard in care, but studies had proved that when a tourniquet was applied, the poison was likely to concentrate where the tourniquet was cutting off circulation, increasing the chances of amputation or even a faster death.

Then there was the idea that cutting the wound and sucking out the poison could improve things. Unfortunately, too many people had died from sucking the poison into their own lip or mouth cut.

So now she had to sit and wait, feeling as medically ineffective as she had that day when she’d promised her patient, Elsa Willoughby, a kidney transplant. Not a simple thing to promise, granted. But Elsa had been in a bad condition, which should have put her at the top of the list for an available kidney. What she hadn’t expected, though, had been the hospital’s refusal to allow the procedure once a kidney became available. A refusal that had come from her grandfather, and been upheld by her father and several other doctors bearing the Brooks name. It was like they’d turned into a wall of opposition because she’d had a patient who needed an operation they didn’t want to grant.

Your patient is too old, her grandfather had stated. That, and another dozen reasons that had got Elsa rejected from Brooks Medical Center, a conglomerate of three hospitals, nine clinics and fourteen other miscellaneous medical services.

Eventually, the county hospital had taken Elsa, but too late. Her condition had deteriorated to the point that she had no longer been a good enough candidate for a transplant anywhere. She’d gone back on dialysis to await her fate, which had come just four months later.

Shanna still had nightmares about the day she’d had to tell her patient she could do nothing for her, that the medical system she’d loved and trusted had failed her. She’d had a small breakdown, meltdown, whatever the term du jour turned out to be. Had spent the night alone, crying, angry, doubting everything about what she was doing.

Next morning she’d gone to her grandfather one more time, trying to persuade him to change his mind. But his was a mind that wouldn’t be changed. “Given your emotional involvement, you may be better suited in an administrative role than the actual practice of medicine,” her grandfather had said. An administrative role because she cared? It’s why she’d left medicine and had gone looking for a better way. Or a different way. Or any way at all that would define her place in medicine. And if it wasn’t out there, then what?

Ben Robinson. He proved it was out there. Everything she’d seen of him proved it. And to gain some of what he had, she’d do whatever she had to.

Except here she was again. Not being able to treat a patient. So she spent the next several minutes doing what she’d done with Elsa after she’d broken the news. She sat and held her patient’s hand, felt her own pulse jump every time Ines twitched, felt her own breath catch each time Ines’s breath went raspy. Heart-on-her-sleeve medicine. Even deep in the jungle she could feel the disapproval of the entire Brooks family.

Luckily for Ines, that wait wasn’t long for only minutes after Shanna had settled in she heard quite a clamor coming from the trail. Not just one or two people. Probably not even three or four of them. In fact, by the time she was on her feet, twenty or so people were standing in front of her, hefting a bed. Not a stretcher or some makeshift rig to transport Ines but a single-size bed, mattress, blankets, pillows and all. She’d never seen anything like it. So much response, so much concern…”Put her…” she started to instruct, but the will of the people took over, and before Shanna could blink, Ines was lifted into the bed, and the bed was being whisked down the trail. All she could do was follow.

Which she did, for about half a mile. Then, at the entry to a small wooden building, everybody stepped back for her to go first, after which several of the men followed her in, leaving the bedframe outside and carrying Ines gently on the mattress.

Shanna spotted Ben immediately, and even in the urgency of the moment her heart clutched. Was it excitement to see him, to start her medical makeover? Or was it merely excitement for medical help for her patient? She didn’t know which, didn’t care. Ben was bent over an empty exam table in what she presumed to be the emergency area. He was adjusting a light, not even aware yet that she was in the room. “Is that table taken?” she asked, smiling when he looked up at her.

“I’m supposing this is not a coincidence, you being here?” Ben asked. He gestured for Shanna to sit down across the table from him. They were in the doctors’ lounge, a tiny place with a table, two chairs, an old sofa, a refrigerator and barely enough room to turn around. Sparse of comfort and cramped, but well used by Ben’s largely volunteer staff. “Which means you’re stalking me, correct?”

She grasped the cup of yerba maté he’d made, a tealike drink popular in Argentina, like it was her lifeline. Ben had mentioned it was his favorite, but she hadn’t quite acquired the taste for it yet, like she hadn’t yet acquired the taste for the changes she needed to make in herself.

“Believe me, I had thirty hours to think about it on the flight. You know, questions you’d ask. Answers I’d give. What would sound plausible, what wouldn’t.”

“Plausible would be good,” he conceded, still absolutely bewildered by her being there. Wondering, also, if he was hallucinating or under some kind of other spell that plucked his thoughts from his mind and turned them into reality. Because he’d thought about her in every unoccupied moment since he’d left Tuscany. She’d even managed to creep into a few of his occupied moments. And now here she was, like he’d ordered her up and, poof, she appeared. “But under the circumstances, difficult. You followed me halfway around the world, and I’m trying to imagine how plausible any explanation for that could be.”

“Other than stalking you,” she said quite brightly. Taking a sip of the maté, she let the bitter taste mellow out on her tongue for a moment, then nodded as she swallowed. “Which I’m not. At least, not in the traditional sense.”

“Okay, then tell me what’s the untraditional sense.” It was flattering that she’d followed him here. At least, he thought it was. Or hoped it was. Because there was the distinct possibility that Shanna Brooks was some kind of lunatic, and he’d completely missed that in her back in Tuscany. Blinded by the aura, oblivious to the reality? No, that didn’t make any sense because he’d looked into her eyes more than once, and there was nothing to suggest anything wrong with her. In fact, one of the things he’d been drawn to had been her spark, her vitality, which shone in her eyes.

“It’s hard to explain. I… I need something different.”

“You needed something different so you stalked me and ended up in my jungle hospital. Which, by the way, isn’t on the map, or any global tracking system I know about. So you had to put some effort into finding me.” These kinds of things never happened to him, and he wondered if he should pinch himself to make sure he was awake.

Shanna shrugged. “You’re right. You’re way off the map. But you’d mentioned you were in Argentina, and I’m resourceful. So, here you are.” She took another sip of maté, watched him carefully over the top of her mug.

“Yes, here I am.” So was she being deliberately vague, or was she as unsure of herself as he was sensing, putting forward the brave front with nothing behind it to back it up? Because Shanna Brooks seemed almost as surprised to be here as he was to see her here. “Several years, now, which gets me back to my original question…”

“Why am I stalking you?” She drew in a deep breath. “The answer is… I want to be like you. So who better to show me how to do that than you?”

Now he was back to the theory that she might be a lunatic. “What you’re telling me is that you want to be like a recluse doctor who’s running an isolated, struggling volunteer hospital in the middle of a jungle?”

She smiled. “Not sure it does. So you’re thinking I’m crazy, aren’t you?”

“Probably not crazy enough to medicate you. But odd enough that I might have to keep an eye on you, take away sharp objects, limit your prescribing to sugar pills.”

Shanna laughed. “Don’t blame you. In the same position, I might also be calling for a security guard.”

“If we had one,” he said. “Which we don’t. So what didn’t you tell me back in Tuscany that I obviously should know since you’ve set your sights on… me?”

“That’s a fair question, I suppose.”

“Which you’re going to answer, I suppose?”

She sat her mug down on the table and simply studied him for a moment. Looked deep into his eyes, never breaking contact for what seemed like an eternity. Then she drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly and smiled. “You deserve an answer, but it’s not necessarily the real answer because…”

“Because it’s hard to explain,” he filled in.

“Harder than you can know.”

“Then, start at the beginning.”

“The thing is, every story has so many beginnings. With this one, let’s begin where medicine and I came to a parting of the ways. For the sake of keeping this brief, let’s just call it a discrepancy of idealisms, and move on from there. After I hung up my medical diploma, I went on a road trip. You know, in search of myself, in search of truth, maybe in the higher sense in search of the meaning of life.

“Who knows what I was in search of but, whatever it was, I met you and I liked the way you talked about your medical world. Thought maybe I might like the way you actually deal with it, as well. And I’ll admit I probably got caught up pretty easily as I didn’t have my own medical world any longer.”

“Cutting to the chase,” he interrupted. “You followed me here to study me.”

“Like I said, it sounds crazy. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know anything. I loved being a doctor, think I want to keep doing that. But…” She shrugged. “You need volunteers, and I’m here to volunteer.”

They hadn’t talked about this in Tuscany, and it was something that should have come up when they’d discovered they were both physicians. Of course, how much had he told her about himself? Not much. Shanna had done the same, so he couldn’t fault her for that. “Well, you’re off to a good start, showing up at my door with your own patient.”

“Then you’ll let me stay?”

He’d seen good medical skill and that was almost enough to hire her on the spot. But he was cautious about the people he brought in, even if he had spent time with them on holiday. So while his impulses were telling him one thing, his head was still ruling him. It had to because his only priority was Hospital de Caridad. “You show up on my doorstep and declare yourself ready to work, and think I’ll just let you start working?”

“I was hoping. And you can do an internet search on me.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Although what he’d seen of her already told him everything he needed to know. That, and there was no reason to doubt she was who she said she was. Still, those were personal feelings getting in the way, and whatever was going to happen with Shanna had to be kept professional. From here on out she wasn’t a wishful memory left over from holiday but one of his volunteers. One of the many who got treated no differently than anyone else. In a way, that was too bad, because he’d like those wishful memories.

“You’re a cautious man, Ben Robinson.”

“Have to be.” He smiled. “You never know who’s going to pop out of the jungle and ask for a job.”

“Look, I appreciate the opportunity. Just tell me what you want me to do, then point me in the right direction.”

He pointed at the door. “Evening house calls. You can come along… observation only for now, just to see how we operate. Then after you’re rested…” A sly smile crossed his lips. “And fully checked out, we’ll get you on the full schedule.” He wasn’t sure why he was asking her to tag along, especially as he intended to treat her the way he did all his volunteers—none of whom ever accompanied him on his house calls. Normally, he enjoyed these evening rounds alone, because they got him away from the routine grind and gave him time to walk and think. It was a pleasant way to spend his evenings, yet here he was disrupting himself, and not sure why.

Shanna laughed. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“You know how that old saying goes, something about keeping your friends close and your stalker closer….”

“Enemies,” she corrected. “Keep your enemies closer.”

Except he didn’t see anything in Shanna that would make her his enemy. If anything, what he saw was… gentle. Compassionate. “For now, let’s just keep it at stalker.”

“So, do you have a bed for a stalker someplace?” she asked, taking her last sip of mate then pushing back from the table.

Since Amanda and Jack were still occupying the guest cottage until their own cottage was built, and all the volunteer rooms were full, there weren’t many options left open. His cottage was built like all the others, two small residences per cottage, divided by a central corridor. As hospital owner, he claimed privilege and took up both residences in his cottage, using one for living and one for storage, because he valued his privacy. Looked like he was going to have to share, though. An idea with a certain jumbled appeal. “I occupy half the cottage around to the side… you walked right past it when you came in.”

“Half a cottage?”

“Don’t require much.”

“So what you’re telling me is we’re sharing quarters? I’ll take the part you don’t require?”

“Something like that. You’ll get your own room, as well as your own bathroom and a very small living area. So I’ll have someone move my things aside and make room for you.” Everything in that cottage was the sum total of his life, all of it packed into three or four boxes. Bottom line, there wasn’t going to be much of his life to move aside.

“Very practical,” she said. “Me being your stalker, and all.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, then…” What else was there to say after the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on called him practical? The answer was… nothing. There was nothing to say. Not a word. When a woman saw a man as practical, that was as far as they would go. But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The two of them going nowhere except on some house calls. Yes, practical was right where he needed to be with her. Right now, though, getting what he wanted didn’t feel so good.




CHAPTER THREE


“WHO is she?” Amanda asked, waylaying her brother in the hospital hall and practically shoving him into a supply closet. “And why is she staying in your cottage?”

“Technically, the cottages are meant to be shared by two. So she’s not really staying in my cottage so much as she’s occupying the other half of a cottage that was designed to be used by two people.”

“Quit being evasive,” Amanda scolded. “I want to know who she is and if she’s the one you met in Tuscany. Oh, and why she’s here.”

“It’s not what you think,” he told his sister.

“You don’t know what I think.”

“Yes, I do. It’s the same thing you think every time you come up with the crazy idea that I might be getting involved with someone.”

“So, are you getting involved with…?”

“Shanna. Shanna Brooks. And, no… notice the emphasis I place on the word no? No, I’m not getting involved with her. But, yes, she’s the person I met in Tuscany.”

“And didn’t have an affair with.”

“And didn’t have an affair with,” he repeated.

“Yet she followed you here?”

“Yes, but I’m still trying to process the reason.” Saying she wanted to be like him could be open to so many interpretations. “I think maybe she’s just looking for some variety in her medical life.”

“Medical life. So she’s what? Doctor, nurse, technician?”

“Family-practice doctor. Burned out, I’m pretty sure.”

“And she’s looking for a nice jungle hospital to rejuvenate her?” Amanda shook her head, smiled. “Don’t be naive, Ben. She’s looking for you to rejuvenate her. Notice the emphasis I place on the word you? And I couldn’t be happier for you. It’s about time you crawled out of your deep, dank hole and did some real living.”

“It’s a normal hole, and I live just fine in it.”

Amanda’s curiosity relaxed a bit, and she arched playful eyebrows at him. “Well, whatever it’s about, you have very good taste in roommates. In fact, that’s a Robinson trait. Just look what happened to me and my roommate.” She patted her rounding belly. “It worked out pretty well.”

“Because there was something there between the two of you to work out.” He held out his hand to stop her from saying the words he knew she’d say. “I’m fine. Just leave it at that, okay?”

“Yeah, well, a beautiful woman just followed you halfway around the world. I’d say that’s better than fine, and as for leaving it alone…” Amanda gave her brother an affectionate squeeze on the arm then spun away. “Think I’ll go help our new volunteer get settled in.”

“She’s going on evening house calls with me.”

“Like I said, I think I’ll help our new volunteer get settled in… later.”

“Leave it alone, Amanda,” he warned. His sister was a free spirit, which was both endearing and, right this very moment, aggravating.

“According to you, there’s nothing to leave alone.”

“So let’s keep it that way.” There were times, though, when he wished he didn’t have to.

“You chose a beautiful area,” Shanna said, trailing along behind Ben. His long legs kept a brisk pace and while she was tall, just a few inches shy of his six-foot-two frame, with long legs herself, she was struggling to keep up with him.

“It chose me,” he said brusquely. “There was a need here, and I had the means to do something about it.”

“So you set up a hospital, just like that?” He seemed the type who could. Efficient, not a speck of nonsense in him. She wondered, for a moment, if Ben ever had fun in life, then dismissed the thought when she remembered that her life didn’t afford much fun, either. Not even after she’d walked away from medicine and, effectively, everything else in her life. Her goal then had been to see the world, have a good time, forget what frustrated her, what made her angry or sad. Concentrate only on what was good in the moment. Then get back to her life and see how it worked out. This was now the working-out part and fun didn’t matter. It was time to be a doctor again but without the emotional involvement that always got in her way.

“Easier said than done. But from a simplistic viewpoint, yes. I set up a hospital just like that. With my sister. She’s only just started working here full time, but she’s been my partner from the beginning.”

“Why Argentina?” Was it easier to fight his demons in such an isolated place? Maybe working so hard with so few resources helped him cope.

“Before you ask, no, it’s not about isolating myself from the world because I’m an alcoholic and the temptations here might be fewer. They’re not. And I don’t consider this isolating myself from the world. My parents were humanitarian workers here for a while. And my sister’s native Argentinian, from a region south of here.”

“I’d wondered if it might have something to do with your… shall we call it demon. But it’s not, and—”

“Not, it’s not,” he interrupted.

“Then I’m glad Argentina comes naturally to you. Choosing where you want to be because it’s the right fit or because of the emotional involvement makes your existence there easier. Oh, and just for the record, you overcame a problem, and I admire that. I hope it’s not an issue for you, because it’s not for me.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever told, Shanna.”

“And that’s as far as it goes. I hope you’ll trust that, because we all have our past mistakes. Believe me, I have my share.” Rebelliousness, a husband she never should have married. Definitely a few mistakes there. “But live and learn, or live and wallow. What you’re doing here in Argentina isn’t wallowing, and that’s what matters.”

He nodded, seemed to accept that explanation from her, then smiled. “No, being in Argentina isn’t about wallowing because I’ve always loved it here. The people are great, and they’re also very appreciative of our efforts—even the little things that don’t matter so much in most medical facilities. You know, give them an aspirin for a headache and they’re thankful. Back home, you give a patient an aspirin and, well, let’s just say it’s not likely to be received in the best spirit.”

Something she understood completely. Her family employed a cadre of lawyers to keep all things worked out, including the irate patient who might refuse an aspirin for a headache then turn around and sue because she’d wanted a narcotic. As part owner of Brooks Medical Center, Shanna understood that all too well. Which made Ben’s set up here seem all the more appealing. “Well, I may need an aspirin for some legs aches if you don’t slow down. You’re tall, long legs, I’m having a hard time keeping up.”

He stopped, measured her up, nodded. “Somehow, I don’t think you’ve ever had a hard time keeping up. In fact, I’m betting that in one way or another you’re always out in the lead.”

“Not all the time,” she said, hearing the sadness starting to slip into her voice. “Sometimes I’m so far behind I’m not sure I’ll ever catch up.”

Ben stopped. Turned to face her. “Which has nothing to do with our walking pace.”

“Nothing.” She was surprised by his responsiveness. Had she made a cryptic remark like that to her ex-husband, he wouldn’t have caught on. But Ben did. He absolutely did, which tweaked a change in her opinion of him. Made it a little softer in her estimation. And a little less dispassionate.

“If I slow down, are you going to tell me why you want to be like me? I’m not sure I like the idea of being watched that closely.”

“Some people might be flattered.”

“Or suspicious,” he countered.

“Or hanging on by a thread.”

“Let me guess. You’ve come to a crossroad, don’t know which way to go, so your choice is to copycat me?” He resumed walking, but much slower this time. “Let me tell you, Shanna. That sounds crazy.”

“I know. But all my options at that crossroad are leading me to another career path.”

“Then flip a coin.”

“Would, if I could. But it’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is. You’re a family practitioner. That seems like a pretty good path to me. So stay on the path you’re already on and figure out how to make it work. If you still enjoy practicing medicine.”

That was exactly what she was doing, trying to figure out how to make it work. But Ben didn’t need to be privy to these things about her, especially the part where she wanted to figure out how to separate herself from the emotion the way he did. Telling him everything would only make him wary and watchful of her weaknesses, the way her grandfather had been.

Here, at Caridad, she had the perfect opportunity to work one on one with the exact kind of doctor she had to become in order to survive—the doctor who didn’t flinch or cry when her patient died, or didn’t get so emotionally invested she lost sleep, couldn’t eat. Her grandfather had called her a sissified practitioner. Her father had backed that up and no one else in her family had come to her defense, which meant they all agreed to some extent, if not totally.

But, then, look at them, the stalwart Brooks family doctors—her parents, grandparents, brothers. Why would they back her up when they were so entrenched in the Brooks family ways? She was the ousted, the one who didn’t fit. If she wanted back in, she was the one who had to do the changing. Thing was, she wasn’t sure anymore if she really wanted in, and maybe that was what bothered her. However it went, for now, she was exploring options, and Ben was the best option she’d come across. “I love practicing medicine. But for the moment I’m openly observing all paths and leaving it at that.” Such a confusing place to be.

“Well, in that case, this path leads to Vera Santos, who had a stroke about a year ago. She gets along fairly well, takes care of her grandchildren during the day when their parents are working, and she has a passion for eating anything and everything that will elevate her blood pressure.”

That caught her interest, shook her right out of her confusion. “What medication is she on? Chlorothiazide or furosemide?”

“No medicine. But she’s eating more fish and grain. Garlic, too. And she’s currently concentrating on eating more vegetables and fewer sweets.”

“Is it working?”

“Marginally. Her blood pressure is still high, but not as high as it was when she had her stroke last year. Which I’d consider progress.”

“Progress would be convincing her to take a pill.”

“Which she won’t do because she doesn’t trust our kind of medicine.”

“So she doesn’t get treated? Her medical condition is like a ticking time bomb, Ben. You know the statistics, she’s ten times as likely to have a second stroke because she’s already had one and her hypertension isn’t controlled. I mean, how can we let that happen?” It didn’t seem acceptable, especially with a condition that could kill her. And there she went again, heart on her sleeve and emotional involvement she shouldn’t be having.

“She does get treated, Shanna. She’s on a better diet, she’s losing weight—doing nicely at it, her blood pressure is lowering, and I check her once a week. More, if she’s not feeling well. And the big thing is, if she refuses my treatment, and I have offered a variety of options, including pills, I can’t force it down her throat.”

Ben held the gate open for Shanna, then followed her up the path to the front door. “We deal in realities here. It would be nice to give her a pill, but the reality is, she’s allowing me to do only what she wants me to do. It’s all I have to work with. I don’t like it, because my preference would be something more aggressive. But it’s not my preference, so I have to make do and be glad she allows me to do what I’m doing. The alternative could be doing nothing at all.”

And there was his practical side, the one that didn’t jump in with both feet and get emotionally tangled up at the start. “But she knows the consequences. I tell her every time I see her. Don’t like the result, but it’s her decision to make, her consequence to deal with.”

Shanna knew about choices and consequences. She was living the consequence of her choice now. Somehow, though, losing a family, which she feared was part of what was at stake for her, didn’t equate to losing a life, which was exactly what Vera Santos had at risk here—her life. So who really cared that she was already over the emotional edge for this patient? It wasn’t like her grandfather was standing there, calling her a sissy for caring. He wasn’t. Quite simply, Shanna wanted to help Vera Santos and that didn’t make her a sissified practitioner, no matter what anybody said.

“What if I can persuade her?” she asked. “What if I can get her to agree to take the pills?”

“That sure of yourself?” he asked.

“That sure of human nature.” She knocked on the front door, then smiled at him. “And of myself.”

“Well, if you’re that sure, here’s the deal.” A mischievous glint popped into his eyes. “You get her to agree to the pills and after house calls I’ll show you around the village, take you to dinner at the cantina.”

She liked the glint, liked this unexpected side of him because previously, when they had been in Tuscany, he’d never initiated the plans. Whatever they’d done with one another had been more as a result of them mutually stumbling into something together. So Ben asking… that was a nice touch.

“Then get yourself ready for the pay-off, Dr. Robinson,” she warned, “because I’m ready for that night on the town.”

“But here’s the flipside. What do I get in return if she doesn’t agree?”

“She’ll agree,” Shanna said quite confidently.

“But if she doesn’t, what’s in it for me?”

She thought hard for a moment. “A humble apology for being wrong?”

“Not enough.”

His face was totally expressionless and someone who didn’t know him might have thought he was being unfriendly. But he wasn’t. Ben was reserved but never unfriendly. And that elfish little glint was still in his eyes. “I know you love yerba maté tea, that you drink it every day. What I’ll do is brew it and bring it to you whenever you want it, for one entire day. Medical rounds and patient emergencies excluded, of course.”

“Tea, but for an entire week, and a humble apology. Then the bet’s on.”

She liked this side of him more and more. Not playful but light in a cautious, grounded sort of way. Like taking the step, but conservatively. Something she needed to learn, actually. “You’re a hard man, Ben. But I’m not worried, because I’m going to win,” she said as she stepped up to the door to address the woman who had opened it and was now standing there watching the two of them banter.

“Buenas noches, Sra. Santos,”Shanna began.“Me llamo Dr. Brooks. Trabajo en el hospital con Dr. Robinson. La razón que estoy aquí esta noche es que quiero hablar con usted acerca de cómo puede quedarse sano y continuar cuidar de sus nietos.”

“Really?” Ben said. “You’re going to use her grandchildren as the reason for her to take her medicine? Isn’t that being a little manipulative, telling her you want to talk to her about how to stay healthy so she can take care of them?”

“Not manipulative. Smart.” Shanna looked up at him, smiling. “And you’re just annoyed you didn’t think of it first.”

“How do you know I didn’t think of it first? Or already tried it?”

“Because, like I said, you’re annoyed. If you’d already tried it and it didn’t work, you’d be laughing at me. And if you’d tried it and it had worked we wouldn’t be making a house call.” She stepped through the door Mrs. Santos held open for her, then turned back to Ben. “Is dancing included in that night on the town, by the way?”

His response was to roll his eyes, exaggerate a sigh and follow her inside. No answer, no smile. Faked annoyance, she realized. Which meant his exterior wasn’t as hard as she’d thought it was. That came as a surprise. Actually, a huge surprise. But, sometimes she liked surprises.

“Okay, so you win,” Ben said, stepping around Shanna on the path back to the village and doubling his pace. Five house calls, and they were finished for the evening.

“Spoken like a man who’s going to grudgingly pay off his wager.” She was barely keeping up with him again and, truth be told, she was almost too exhausted to care if he left her behind. Everything about the past few days had finally caught up with her, and the adrenalin edge had worn off. There were no big plans left in her for the rest of the night, except to get back to her room. Forget the tour, forget everything else. All she wanted to do was concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other enough times to get her where she wanted to be—in bed, asleep.

“Spoken like a man who actually wishes he’d thought of your idea first. What you said to convince Vera Santos to take her medicine was nothing short of brilliant. And, yes, I wish I’d thought of it.”

“What?” Shanna sputtered, pausing a moment to catch her breath.

Ben stopped and turned around. “You heard what I said. No need to repeat myself just so you can gloat.”

“Only gloat… a little.” Suddenly so exhausted she felt paralyzed, her words barely managed to escape her lips.

“Shanna…” He took two steps back toward her but she held up her hand to stop him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a little more tired than I’d expected. Wasn’t easy getting here.”

“Jet lag, humidity…”

Nodding, Shanna drew in a deep breath. “Is it a rough life out here, Ben?”

“Not particularly. There are differences, but you get used to them.”

“I hope so…” Straightening, she started down the path again and had almost caught up with Ben when he turned and continued his own trek, but even at his much slower pace she couldn’t keep up. So she didn’t even try. Instead, she lagged back and watched him walk. Man with a purpose, she thought, noting his long, deliberate strides. He calculates everything about his life. Evidenced by his squared shoulders. Not a movement in him without a specific intent. Maybe that was good, all things considered. But she couldn’t help wondering if it was also lonely.

Another couple of dozen steps forward, and Ben was totally out of sight, which was just as well because a little cleared patch beside the road called her name. She wanted to sit down. In fact, she dropped her backpack to the ground with that intent, but thought about Ines and the snake then wondered about what other animals might be lurking in the dark, ready to get her.

“Jaguars,” Ben said, stepping up behind her. “Cougars, and the occasional boar. Plus the snakes, which you already know about.”

Gasping, Shanna spun to face him. “Where did you come from?”

“You weren’t keeping up so I rounded back. Saw you contemplating a little rest by the side of the road and figured that if you were as smart as you seem, you were probably wondering what kinds of animals out here might get you if you sat down. Oh, and I originally came from California, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not funny,” she snapped. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt, and she was barely able to breathe, he’d scared her so bad.

“No, being out here alone at night is never funny. It’s one of those differences you have to adjust to.”

“Do you routinely take all your volunteers to the jungle at night and scare them to death?”

He chuckled. “Hadn’t ever considered it, but it does sound like a good indoctrination idea, doesn’t it? Especially since you’ll never come this way at night again without being cautious.”

He’d actually laughed. Attempted a little humor then laughed. She’d heard it in his voice, wished she could have seen it on his face. “I know I told you you’re a hard man, Ben. But I’d like to add cruel to that, as well. You’re a hard and cruel man. Has anybody ever told you that?”

“Once or twice. But I like to think of myself as a man who doesn’t want to see his volunteers get eaten. Which probably wouldn’t have happened to you as there hasn’t been a sighting of a jaguar near here in years. Still, better to be safe than sorry. Right?”

Not only was he laughing, he was sounding quite chipper. Was this Ben in his element? she wondered. Ben synonymous with the night? Happy in his separation? That analysis didn’t seem right. He might put on that dark front—a psychologist would probably say it was meant to keep people away. Yet she saw something else, something behind it, and it wasn’t dark at all. In fact, it was quite the opposite. “Did you ever consider that it might be better to warn me rather than scare me?”

“And you’re the type who’ll listen to a warning? Because you seem just the opposite. You know, the one who has to find out on her own. Learn her lessons the hard way. Confront the jaguar head on to prove there’s really a jaguar there.”

He was right about that, but she didn’t have to admit it to him. “In other words, learn my lesson by getting myself eaten?”

“Why are you really here, Shanna? And don’t tell me it’s because you want to be like me, because nobody who knows me wants to be like me.”

“But I don’t know you. All that time we spent together in Tuscany and I really don’t know any more than what I see when I look at you.”

“That’s not why you came to Argentina, to get to know me. And maybe you’re here because of that crossroad you’ve come to. But this is a drastic change from your life, as well as a drastic change from the way you practice medicine. There’s nothing here that’s easy. Not even the village path.”

“Maybe I’m looking for drastic and difficult.”

“I’m not buying it. What you’re telling me may be partial reasons, but in total I’m not buying it.”

“You don’t have to. As long as you let me work here, we’ll both get what we need. Why complicate it with anything else?”

He shrugged. “Guess we don’t have to, do we?” Taking a few steps closer, he bent and picked up her backpack. “Look, it’s getting late. I have a couple of patients I want to check on before I grab a of couple hours’ sleep, so we need to hurry this along.” Then he slid his arm around her waist, clearly for support rather than anything else. “Lean on me and we’ll be back at the hospital in a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. Normally, I have more stamina than this. I really didn’t expect to get this tired as I haven’t done much of anything for a while now.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

That was all he said. For the rest of the way back they walked in silence. She was glad for the assistance. Snuggling into his side maybe a bit more than she needed to as they walked, she was glad the assistance was coming from Ben.




CHAPTER FOUR


“MY BROTHER thought I should look in on you, and I wanted to meet you… considering what I’ve heard.” Amanda sat a tray of coffee and pastries on the nightstand next to Shanna’s bed. “I’m Amanda Kenner, by the way. Part-owner of the hospital and resident pediatrician. And impressed as all get-out that you followed Ben from Italy to Argentina.”

“What time is it?” Shanna responded groggily, pushing herself part way to a sitting position. Last night was a blur. Ben had helped her back to the hospital, then she’d practically fallen through the door to her room, and right this moment she didn’t have any recollection of tumbling into bed or anything else past the door. Yet here she was, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, stretched out in bed and feeling rested. And her only concession to undressing was that her boots and socks were off. Had Ben done that? Had he actually removed them for her?

“It’s a little after noon. I’d thought about waking you for breakfast earlier because you missed supper last night, but Ben said you needed sleep more than you needed food, so I waited as long as I could. The thing is, if you’re going to volunteer here, I really need you on the work schedule for this afternoon. Normally, we like to give our volunteers a couple of days to acclimatize, but we’re in a pinch.”




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