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The Nurse He Shouldn't Notice
Susan Carlisle


About the Author
SUSAN CARLISLE’s love affair with books began when she made a bad grade in maths in the sixth grade. Not allowed to watch TV until she brought the grade up, she filled her time with books and became a voracious romance reader. She has ‘keepers’ on her shelf to prove it. Because she loved the genre so much, she decided to try her hand at creating her own romantic worlds. She still loves a good happily-ever-after story.
When not writing Susan doubles as a high school substitute teacher, which she has been doing for sixteen years. Susan lives in Georgia with her husband of twenty-eight years, and has four grown children. She loves castles, travelling, cross-stitching, hats, James Bond and hearing from her readers.


The Nurse He Shouldn’t Notice
Susan Carlisle







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader
Often when we stop focusing on ourselves and start concentrating on others good things happen that we never dreamed were possible. Too many times we become so secure in our own world that we must step out beyond our comfort zone to change our perspective. When we do that we are more aware of others around us, and that can make a difference in our own lives. My characters, Court and Maggie, are no different from us. They must struggle, but they find the truth in the saying ‘Give and it will be returned to you.’
Although the hospital in Teligu is fictitious, and Maggie and Court’s story comes completely out of my imagination, there are dedicated and hard-working doctors and nurses who spend their lives working to provide healthcare to the people in the remote areas of northern Ghana. You can find out more about the medical work being done there on my website: www.SusanCarlisle.com
I hope you enjoy Court and Maggie’s love story as much as I enjoyed telling it.
Susan Carlisle

DEDICATION:
My special thanks go to:
My Tuesday night critique group for all your advice.
Dr. Chupp for giving medical details.
Sia Huff and Carol Burnside
for being such great critique partners.
Flo Nicoll for being such a supportive editor.

CHAPTER ONE
THE dry season dust surged past Maggie Everett as she halted the battered Jeep next to the sleek jet. Raising a hand, she shielded her eyes from the sun and the haze of the plains of northern Ghana in West Africa.
As the passengers disembarked from the plane, one in particular drew her attention. Maggie hadn’t seen many American men near her age of twenty-eight in the last couple of years but she could still recognize a fine-looking specimen when she saw one.
He looked in her direction, while behind him the three other newcomers sorted out their luggage. A balding man pointed and issued orders while pulling boxes and baggage from the belly of the aircraft. Two young women, chatting with excitement, searched through bundles that were unloaded. They must be the nursing students who’d be working during their summer break from college.
These were the latest medical personnel to fill in at the remote hospital for a few weeks. She appreciated the assistance but what the hospital desperately needed was enough financial support to hire additional physicians who would be committed to staying for years.
The man caught her full attention again as he strode toward her. His aviator sunglasses added mystique. Slimhipped, wide-shouldered and, if she had to guess, over six feet. He reminded her of the guys in those year-old magazines her mother sent in care packages. Like one of the models from a cologne ad. An undertone of ruggedness, offset by a touch of refinement. Maggie’s pulse beat a little faster in anticipation.
Reaching her, he flipped the glasses up to rest on the top of his head, revealing crystal-blue eyes, made sharper by the deep tan of his skin. “I’m Dr. Court Armstrong. I’ve two sensitive pieces of equipment that need to be seen about right away.”
No hello, nice to meet you. His crisp New England accent caught her off guard. Could he be? “Armstrong? As in the Armstrong Foundation? Boston?” She didn’t try to keep her disgust out of her voice.
“Yes.”
He could be the very one who had denied the hospital’s request for aid, including her plan for an urgently needed children’s clinic. The locals were desperate for medical care, children the most. The hospital required help to stay open, and her new program could make a difference. But the hospital didn’t meet their requirements for funds. It was in too remote an area, not seeing enough patients. She gritted her teeth. Not qualify! She couldn’t imagine a project more qualified or a hospital more in need.
“So why are you here if you’ve already denied our application?”
His mouth compressed for a second before he said, “I’ll be glad to discuss that with you after we get this equipment out of the sun.”
Before she could respond with the sharp retort that sprang to mind, her name filled the air.
“Missy Maggie, Missy Maggie.” Neetie, a young African boy, ran across the parched ground toward her. Clouds of dust trailed behind. He halted beside the Jeep. “Truck. Hit. Hurt,” he said in his native tongue between panting breaths. “Come. Now.”
“You’re needed,” she said to the doctor. “Get in, Neetie.”
The long-legged doctor gave a curt nod and picked up a knapsack from the pile of luggage before climbing into the seat beside her. Maggie noted his split-second hesitation before he reached for Neetie.
Using one arm, Dr. Armstrong swung the boy into the back and called over his shoulder, “John, see to the machines.” Turning to her, he said, “Let’s go.” He returned his dark glasses to their place on his nose. She missed the clear blue coolness of his eyes. What a shame to hide those pools, and an even greater shame they belonged to such an insufferable man.
The Jeep cranked on the first turn of the key. Maggie floored the gas and the vehicle shot forward. She steered a circle around the plane and back toward the compound. “Where, Neetie?” The wind whipped the words away.
“In front of Arthur’s.”
Dr. Armstrong gripped the edge of the windshield, one foot propped on the raised edge, a hand on his bag as if he wasn’t comfortable racing to an emergency in an emerging country. After he realized the conditions he’d have to practice medicine in, she wouldn’t be surprised if twenty-four hours from now, he took off in that fancy jet, looking for his pressed-white-lab-coat world again.
She slid the Jeep to a stop in front of the hospital. When Dr. Armstrong’s hand slapped against the dash to stop his forward motion, Maggie’s mouth lifted slightly at the corners.
“Why’re we—?”
“Supplies.” She gathered up a handful of her skirt’s material, climbing out of the Jeep. This was one of those times when the clothes she was required to wear were a nuisance.
Minutes later, Maggie returned with a large black bag she kept prepared for this type of situation.
Dr. Armstrong jumped out and met her. “I’ll take that,” he said, reaching for the bag. He placed it beside Neetie.
Before she put the Jeep in gear he’d returned to his seat.
Maggie said nothing to her passengers as she drove. Instead she concentrated on weaving her way through streets lined with clay-brick, one-story buildings and filled with people and animals. She glanced at the man beside her. The doctor made no attempt to speak either, seeming to absorb everything around him.
Reaching the accident, she could see that a truck had hit a cart. People mingled around an elderly man who must have been pushing the cart. He lay off to the side, clutching his chest, while a child of about nine had her legs pinned beneath the cart. A woman chattered in a loud voice at the man standing beside the truck.
Maggie’s stomach clenched. She hated to see a child hurt most of all. No matter how far she ran, she still couldn’t outrun her mothering nature when a child was in trouble.
The Jeep had almost come to a jolting stop when Dr. Armstrong’s feet touched the ground. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he lifted the other bag from the back. “You check the child. I’ll take the old man. Looks like a heart attack.”
Well, he certainly had no trouble giving orders! Who did he think he was to drop out of the sky and five minutes later start telling her what to do? As lead nurse, she’d been the one who’d made most of the daily decisions. She knew what to do, and didn’t need super-Doc to take over before he’d even seen the hospital in Teligu. She made no comment regarding his high-handedness. Having someone in charge during an emergency was critical to maintaining order, and Dr. Armstrong made it clear he believed that was him. “Neetie, you go with Mr. Doctor. Talk for him,” she instructed the boy.
Going to the girl, Maggie used a gentle voice hoping to calm her fears. Her ex-emergency-room nurse instincts took over. Quickly she assessed the girl’s injuries while keeping an eye on the doctor’s progress. She couldn’t have a newbie fresh off the plane damage the relationship and trust that the hospital had painstakingly built with these people.
He gave curt, simple directions that Neetie translated from a distance, as if the doctor had placed Neetie in that spot, not too far away but not too close.
Using hand gestures, Maggie instructed three men on how to raise the cart off the child. Maggie pulled the girl out by the shoulders and then examined the girl’s injured right leg.
Dr. Armstrong joined her. “Thankfully no heart issues. The man’s forehead will require stitches but those can wait. I applied a couple of four-by-four gauze bandages and told Neetie to tell him to hold them in place. The girl?”
“Fractured leg,” Maggie said, not looking at him. “Thank God that appears to be the only injury.”
He pulled the supply bag over to him and knelt across the girl from Maggie. The doctor ran long tapered fingers over the girl’s distended skin with medical thoroughness but something was missing. No soothing voice, no tender touch, no personal involvement. His actions were all strictly clinical. “Let’s get this stabilized and get her to the hospital.”
Despite the negative emotions his last name and attitude kindled in her, Maggie grudgingly admitted he seemed to know his medical care despite his almost non-existent bedside manner. Still, he wasn’t going to push her out of the way as if this was her first day in Ghana, instead of his.
Maggie handed him splints. He gave her a quick glance of admiration. She squeezed the girl’s hand, before holding one of the boards in place while the doctor gripped the other.
Pursing her lips, she drew in a breath. The pain in the girl’s eyes pulled at Maggie’s heart. She reassured the girl that she would be fine. If it hadn’t been for her own accident, Maggie might have been the mother of a little girl close to the same age. Because she couldn’t have her own children, she’d embraced each native child as hers. She even planned to adopt Neetie. It made her livid to think about how much she could do for them if the Armstrong Foundation would support the hospital. “The bandage is in the right-hand corner of the bag, Dr. Armstrong.”
He reached for it. Passing the material back and forth, they slowly began to wrap it around the boards holding the leg straight.
“You make my surname sound like a dirty word. Why don’t you call me Court?”
“What?” she asked, distracted by her thoughts of getting the bandage just right.
“My name. After an emergency—what, less than five minutes after I land?—I think we can survive on a firstname basis. And you’re Missy Maggie.”
Her usually efficient movements faltered when his fingers slid over hers as he handed her the wrapping. “I’m Maggie Everett. The head nurse. You can call me Maggie.”
He glanced at her as she returned the wrapping. With deft movements suggesting years of practice, he secured the end by tucking it under the edge of the material. Without looking at the girl, he said, “Maggie, tell her that we are taking her to the hospital.”
No “please” there but Maggie did as he instructed, then went to move the Jeep closer. She couldn’t fault the new doctor’s care, but she was used to the visiting doctors showing more personal attention, more personal interaction with patients. He was no different than his family’s foundation.
The people of Teligu needed help and this man had the influence to see they got it. Could she convince him to persuade the foundation to reverse its decision?
Court stepped into the cool evening. He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh compared to the busy city of Boston. Even the noises of the night were a sharp contrast to those of home. He took a moment to listen to the wildlife bickering back and forth, and the shuffles of an animal searching for food outside the compound fence. He’d never call this place home.
Was Ghana something like his parents had experienced all those years ago? Part of what had kept them going on medical mission trips even when his mother had become pregnant? He shook his head. His parents should have been in the States, not off in the wild, especially with his mother so far along.
He shook his head. With his kind of luck, his first patient in Ghana had to be a young girl. He’d not trusted himself with a child’s care since that awful night. The girl had required his attention and he’d had no choice but to tend her. The constant reminder to focus ticker-taping through his mind kept his hands steady.
The soft casting of the girl’s leg hadn’t been challenging. Yet he felt exhausted. He’d flown all day, crossed three time zones and was coming down from the adrenaline rush of an emergency. It did feel good to be practicing medicine again, even if he had to start with a child. Still, he needed sleep.
Heck, he didn’t even know where he was to bunk. Scanning the compound, he didn’t see anyone to ask. The screen door behind him slammed, and Maggie stepped out.
They’d worked well together, despite his feeling that she didn’t like him. He’d been impressed by her efficiency in casting the girl’s leg regardless of the rudimentary exam room and equipment. She did everything with precision and care. In America, these facilities would be comparable to a back-alley clinic. Like the one he and his brother had been born in. The one without enough technology to help his brother. Now wasn’t the time to start dredging up those ugly, negative memories. He pushed them back into the corner of his mind where they belonged.
Even with the events of the past few hours, Maggie still had a fresh look about her. Her dark, wavy hair was pulled high on her head and brushed the top of her shoulders. What would it be like down? A dark flowing waterfall? In the dim light, he could just make out her quizzical expression. Had he voiced his curiosity out loud?
“I guess you’d like to settle in.” Her businesslike voice eclipsed the evening sounds. “I’ll show you to your bungalow. Someone will have already put your bags there.” She didn’t sound as if she welcomed the chore.
“I could use some rest. Long day and even longer evening.”
“I’d like to tell you a day like today is unusual but it isn’t.” She stepped away and headed down a winding path.
Her look implied she’d expected a negative reaction. “Have I done something to make you angry?”
“Your foundation has done something to these people.” She stopped. Her words were cutting as she spread her arm out in a dramatic arc. “The hospital requested support and we were denied!”
“Now, Ms. Everett, you know the foundation must make tough decisions. We would like to give—”
“Don’t patronize me and don’t give me the party line. From what you’ve seen today, can you think of another medical facility that needs help more?” Her voice rose with her ire.
He found Maggie even more interesting fired up and fighting. “To be honest, I need to spend more time here to answer that question.” He brushed his hand across his forehead slick with sweat, even in the night air. All he wanted right now was a bath and bed.
“Cop-out,” she huffed. The words hung between them for a second before she asked, “By the way, are you on the foundation board?”
He took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to like his answer. “Yes, I’m the acting CEO.”
Her shoulders squared and her back went straight as a pole. “So you knew the foundation had turned the hospital down before you came here.” She almost spat the words.
“I did. I also read your appeal letter. It’s why I’m here.” Her impassioned plea for the foundation to reconsider its decision had touched a chord in him. He’d decided to come and see for himself if all she’d written was true, if perhaps he could finally do some good. Still, he had no intention of telling her the other reasons he’d come to this desolate place. Like making a decision about whether or not to continue practicing medicine. “I thought I’d see what the hospital’s needs were for myself. The foundation receives numerous applications for assistance but we can’t fulfill them all. Not every request has merit.”
“I can assure you ours does.”
“I’ve yet to make that determination.”
She looked him square in the eyes. “Then I’ll have to convince you.” She glanced away, then said, “You don’t practice medicine?”
“I’m a trained pediatrician but I’ve taken a leave of absence. The foundation takes all my time right now.”
He’d stopped practicing when he’d allowed a little boy and his parents to suffer for his inattentiveness. The boy now lived with brain damage, just as Court’s brother had. Court should’ve gone when he’d been paged but he had been too busy with foundation business, trying to make points with his parents. Trying to fill some juvenile need to be noticed. Even thinking about it disgusted him. A grown man should’ve gotten over it by now. But he’d hurt a child. Everyone said that Jimmy’s reaction to the meds wasn’t his fault but they would never convince him. Either way, there was still a child living as his brother had because of him.
“Really?”
“Why the sound of surprise?”
“You were good enough with the girl today, but you don’t act like the typical ped doc.”
Ouch, Missy Maggie was way too perceptive. He’d thought he’d covered up how anxious he’d been while seeing to the child. “How’s that?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve seen all kinds of doctors come through here and I can usually tell by how they interact with a patient what field they’re in. I’ve not missed one in a long time.”
“Well, it’s nice to know that there’s still some mystery to me.”
Maggie shrugged before she started down the worn dirt path toward a copse of squat, low-canopied trees. “The bungalows are out this way.”
He watched the soft sway of her hips under her long cotton skirt. All the women here wore some type of flowing skirt or dress. Hers was too lengthy to give him any more than a glimpse of well-formed calf. She wasn’t waiting to see if he followed.
“Have you worked here long?” he asked as he caught up with her.
“I’ve been working in the Teligu Hospital for a little more than two years.” The words flowed over her delicate shoulder.
“And you’re already the head nurse?”
She chuckled low in her throat. “Yeah, and sometimes nutritionist, health inspector and ward housekeeper. Around here we do it all.”
Her dry mirth punctuated her earlier anger. “We all pitch in. Locals are hired to do some of the work but there’s always something needing to be done. Like today.”
“How many are on staff?”
She turned round, her eyes having gone serious. “Including you and me? Not enough.”
“Why not?”
“For the same reason you’re only here for a short while.” She looked out across the compound as if taking it in for the first time. “Lack of supermarkets, malls and night life …” Her voice trailed off into a soft, accepting voice, which told Court she’d run out of energy to fight.
He said nothing for a while. For some reason he wished he could commit to staying forever just to see her happy. That was an odd thought. “So what does the hospital need most?”
“Doctors. Not for a couple of weeks or months. Staff willing to commit to staying for a year or more. Pharmacists, nurses, a hospital director, or any other medical professional you can think of, we could use them all. And the money to encourage them to stay longer and …” she paused for effect “… a children’s clinic.”
“What about doctors and nurses local to the area?” He would continue to pepper her with questions as long as she agreed to answer them.
“No native doctors. For pretty much the same reason others don’t stay.” Her voice strengthened, a steel edge entering it with her passion for the subject. “If they get out of the villages, they find they like the life at the coast. And the money. There’re five full-time nurses. We’re training local women, and some go off to school with the help of the government.”
“Doctors?”
“Just Dr. Roberts full time, we fill in with visiting doctors. For the next couple of weeks it will be Dr. Roberts and you. But Dr. Roberts will take a few days of vacation next week. He’s not had any time off in months.” She finished with a flourish.
The more she spoke, the more animated Maggie became. He couldn’t take his eyes off the petite woman who spoke like a lioness protecting her young. What would it be like to have someone who loved so unconditionally in his corner?
Court leaned back. “We’ve more help. Another doctor flew in with me.”
“Really?” She seemed excited by the news. “Great. We’ll be able to do the clinic in one of the neighboring villages after all.”
They’d reached a simple, cinder-block structure, covered by a tin roof. She opened the screen door and held it for him. He stepped into the tile-floored room. A lamp illuminated two well-used chairs and a small bare table in the sitting area. A ceiling fan produced the only air circulation.
“There’s a small kitchen area, bedroom and bath through there.” She pointed in the direction of a dark doorway.
Her skirt brushed against his cargo pants as he moved to tug on a light pull so he could see down the hall.
She shifted, putting distance between them. “You can fix your own meals or we’ve a mess hall. Since there’s no food stored here, I’ll be by at six-thirty in the morning to show you where you get breakfast. If we have a few minutes before rounds, I’ll take you around the hospital. Clinic starts promptly at seven-thirty.”
Her words were all but rolling over each other. Did he make her nervous? He would’ve never imagined anyone could rattle this unflappable woman.
Stepping out the door, she warned, “Be sure and latch the screen before you go to bed.”
Maggie was running. And she wasn’t half as impressed with him as he’d like. She certainly shared no love for his family’s philanthropic endeavors. Missy Maggie reminded him of his favorite kind of candy, hard on the outside, gooey in the center. He’d like to find out what other surprises she hid.
The next morning Court started down the bungalow’s short hall as a knock sounded at the door.
Maggie stood outside the screened entry. She wore a scooped-neck shirt and a floral skirt, hiding what he imagined were enticing curves. Her chestnut hair hung from the nape of her neck secured by a rubber band. She looked shiny, natural and young. And completely out of place in this stark land.
“I didn’t think you’d be up,” she said through the wire mesh.
“You told me six-thirty, and it’s six-thirty.” He pushed the door open, stepping out.
The glint in her eye suggested she might be laughing at him. “We’ll see if you feel this chipper tomorrow morning.”
He still felt the same chill from her that had been present the day before. He fell into step beside her as they took a different path from last night. This one ended at a long, low building adjacent to the hospital.
“This is what we affectionately call the mess hall.” She led the way to a short buffet line set up at one end.
It resembled a military mess hall he’d seen in pictures.
“The food’s prepared for the in-patients Monday through Saturday. Families bring the meals in on Sunday. Most of us find it easier to eat here than to go to the town market daily.” After filling her plate, she moved toward an empty table.
“Hey, Court,” John Weber, the doctor who had flowm in with him, called. “Come join us. Tell us where you disappeared to yesterday.”
“Sure.” He and Maggie took chairs at the table. “Maggie, you haven’t had a chance to meet John Weber. He works with the foundation. This is Lisa Mills and Jen Skindowski.” He directed a hand toward first the blonde and then the brunette woman sitting beside the doctor.
She nodded to the women and shook hands with John. “I’m sorry. I thought you were the pilot.”
John laughed. “No, I’m a general practitioner. The pilot would be Court. It’s his jet.”
Court shrugged when her piercing gaze came back to him. She didn’t look impressed. Did she think he should sell the plane and offer the money to the hospital?
“In fact, you could call it his baby, he loves it so much.” John took a bite of scrambled egg.
“I imagine a plane makes it easy to get around,” she mumbled. What she left unsaid made him uncomfortable.
“John, did you get the equipment taken care of?”
“Yeah, the director put it in storage. I made sure it was handled carefully. So tell me about the big emergency yesterday.” John kept his focus on Court.
“Truck and cart accident. Cart lost. A child with a clean fracture. An old man who needed a couple of stitches. The girl was doing well when I checked on her at midnight.”
Maggie’s head jerked up. “You went to check on her in the middle of the night?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I like to keep a personal eye on my patients.” He’d failed to check on a patient once and he’d never make that mistake again, even if he was still a long way from feeling comfortable around children. She gave a nod of approval. It felt good to think her opinion of him had taken at least a slight upturn. Something about how she’d reacted to the girl being injured made him believe the children routinely received her special attention.
Lisa asked Maggie a question about the facility, and they began discussing the hospital and the area. There were additional questions about the people and the type of care they most often required. Court listened, impressed by how involved Maggie was with her patients. She clearly loved her work and the Mamprusi people.
She pushed her plate away and said to the group, “If you’re finished, why not join Court for a tour?”
Court lagged behind the others as Maggie pointed out buildings within the compound.
She turned to the nurses. “Don’t go outside the fence after dark and only with a companion during the day. It isn’t like at home. There’s no police or law like you’re used to.”
Inside the hospital building she pointed out the pharmacy, office area, supply area, and the two ORs. She led them to the women’s ward where the beds looked to be World War II surplus. Family members were sitting or sleeping on the floor around their loved ones.
Jen asked, “Why’re there people everywhere?”
“We ask families to help care for their loved ones. There’s not enough staff to do it all,” Maggie explained.
Had he been wrong in his evaluation of the hospital’s application? Maybe, but he wasn’t ready to concede that so early in the visit. He couldn’t let her emotional play on the situation get in the way of a comprehensive evaluation.
The men’s and the children’s wards were much the same. Leaving the latter, Maggie stopped and looked straight at Court. “You’re the pediatrician so you need to know we don’t tell the parents if their child is dying because they’ll desert them.”
If her intent was to drive home the point the hospital could use foundation money to hire additional stuff, she’d done it. With one-two punches.
He’d been born in a small jungle clinic but he’d been reared around glistening state-of-the-art hospitals in Boston. Aware of the type of work the foundation supported, he’d still never been in a hospital this primitive.
“It’s time for rounds,” Maggie said. “Lisa and Jen, I’ll leave you to help out in the children’s ward. One of the staff members will show you what needs to be done. Doctors, we’ll meet Dr. Roberts in the men’s ward.”
Court looked out the window of the hallway linking the two buildings while they walked. The line of people waiting, sitting or standing stretched as far as he could see. He couldn’t keep the amazement out of his voice. “Are all those people waiting to be seen?”
“Yes. We see around three hundred a day. And do eight to twelve surgeries.”
He whistled. She made it sound like there was nothing to it.
She met his look. “Another reason we have difficulty keeping doctors and nurses.”
They entered the men’s ward. “Dr. Roberts, I brought you help. Gentlemen, I’ll see you later in clinic.” Maggie turned and left.
Maggie looked across the packed dirt yard in the direction of the patient clinic. She scanned the crowd of people waiting in the open-air treatment area. With relief, she spotted Court’s dark-haired head. He had stepped out of the building, deep in conversation with one of the local orderlies who spoke English.
She hadn’t spoken to Court since earlier in the morning. Lunch was taken in shifts, so she had no idea how his day was going. She’d bet he wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping tonight. A couple of times from a distance she’d had a chance to watch him work. His personality didn’t endear him to her but she’d grudgingly admit he was a good doctor, maybe one of the best they’d seen in some time.
He stopped speaking to the tall man, looked up and met her gaze, like he’d known she needed him. A tingle zipped along her spine. She waved him in her direction and walked to meet him halfway.
There were two small furrows between his brows. “Is something wrong?”
Her voice lowered. “I need you to look at a wound. I’ve been checking it weekly but it doesn’t seem to be improving.” She led him toward a young woman sitting on a portable examination table.
“Raja, this is Dr. Armstrong,” Maggie said. “He’s going to look at your leg.” Court gave Raja a reassuring smile. “Tell her I would like her to lie back,” he said to Maggie.
She relayed his message.
Court supported Raja’s back as he helped her lie back on the table. Maggie moved to the other side of the table, facing him.
He raised the cloth bandage from the wound. The smell of infection wafted into the air. Maggie saw the slight jerk of Court’s cheek only because she watched him. She was grateful he didn’t let on to the frightened Raja how bad the situation was.
Apparently his bedside manner extended to women if not children. If he didn’t like children then why in the world had he become a pediatrician? That ironic twist made him interesting for some reason. Was there more going on with Dr. Armstrong than he was letting on?
Court touched the skin around the worst area of the injury.
“How did this happen?” His eyes flickered upward toward her for a second, before his attention returned to Raja’s leg.
“The water barrel she’d been carrying on her head slipped. As it fell it hit her leg, making a gash. She lives so far away she didn’t come in to get it stitched.”
He looked up. Their gazes met. Held. The confirmation of her diagnosis showed in his eyes. His stone-faced look was the opposite of the emotional upheaval she felt. A mixture of sorrow, pain and disappointment all rolled within her.
Didn’t he have any feelings about what was going to happen to Raja? Maggie blinked. At least he could show some regret for what was to come.
Court spoke to Raja again and helped her to sit up. “Maggie, could I speak to you a moment?”
They stepped a few paces away before Court stopped. “You do know the leg has to come off, don’t you?”
Maggie nodded, looking at the ground.
“It’s too far gone. If she didn’t live in these deplorable conditions …” A tone of remorse filled his voice. “Why didn’t you say something to Dr. Roberts about this earlier?”
Maggie’s head jerked up and she met his gaze. “Don’t be too quick to issue blame. Around here the people have to work hard every day to eke out some kind of existence.” The hopelessness of the situation, her inability to make a real difference washed over her but she bowed her back and continued. “Coming to us means giving up a day of labor, and sometimes walking ten miles or more. When they get here they have to wait in line for hours because we’re so short-staffed. It’s not that they don’t want help, it’s just that it takes so much effort to get it. And as for me not informing Dr. Roberts, I did. He and I have been doing all we can.”
“I didn’t understand—”
“No, you didn’t. You need to be here longer than twenty-four hours before you start judging us.” All of a sudden she felt tired to the bone. Her shoulders slumped. Just one night she’d like to fall asleep knowing she’d offered the best medical care possible in the world. That would never happen here.
Court stared at her a moment. “I wish I knew another way but if her leg isn’t removed then the gangrene could spread and kill her. Do you want me to tell her?”
With your emotionally distant attitude, I don’t think so. “She’s my friend. I’ll explain.” Maggie turned to go back to Raja but jumped when Court’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. His touch comforted. For a second his eyes showed a glimpse of compassion before they became shuttered again.
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
He sounded as if he meant it. Maybe the ice doctor did have a heart. “I do too,” she said. His hand fell away when she turned back to Raja.

CHAPTER TWO
COURT ran a hand across his face. Swiveling his head from side to side, he worked the kinks out of his neck. He gazed into the night sky. It’d been a long, horrible day. He’d done a rotation in the largest emergency room in Boston but nothing had compared to the volume of people this primitive clinic saw each day. This hospital needed at least two more full-time physicians.
He’d expected to have to care for patients on this trip but nothing like the magnitude he’d been presented with that day. And the number of children. It was almost overwhelming. With great fortitude he’d managed to care for the first one through to the twentieth. Thankfully his training went into autopilot mode and he found some semblance of comfort, a return of a modicum of confidence. Still, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t glad to see the day done.
Finished with the last patient, he’d headed to the mess hall for a bite to eat. Dr. Roberts had come by and asked him to assist with removing Raja’s leg. Court had explained he wasn’t qualified. Dr. Roberts responded, “Here we do it all. I’ll show you where to scrub in.”
The surgery had been short and unpleasant. He always thought an operation helped. It fixed. In this case, a life had been saved yet devastated. The only saving grace was that Maggie hadn’t been there with those big accusing eyes. She had to be thinking—if he hadn’t turned the hospital down for funds, if he could see the need for outlying clinics, if he could get the supplies they needed …
Had he been a part of making a wrong decision that had hurt someone? Guilt gnawed at him, becoming a living entity in his gut that grew stronger by feeding on his doubts. He wanted to feel good about himself again, wanted to see respect for him shinning in someone’s eyes—Maggie’s.
But why should he care what she thought? He wasn’t going to get involved with her. That would be opening a door to hurt that he didn’t need, refused to accept. He’d learned at an early age that when you cared for someone you got hurt. If you didn’t want to hurt, you kept your heart and feelings locked away. Missy Maggie wouldn’t be allowed to knock on that door. Getting involved with Miss Save the World was out of the question. He had larger things to worry about in his life than trying to please her. Like what direction his career would take when he returned to Boston.
Court trudged along the path toward his bungalow by moonlight, too wired to sleep. Something moved among the trees. Stopping, he squinted in an effort to determine if it was man or beast. He’d heard talk of animals finding their way under and over the chain-link fence at night. Maggie had even made a point of warning him to lock his door.
Stepping closer, he found Maggie, sitting in a hammock. He left the path, walking with caution over the uneven ground with its dry grass clumps. The night shade flung shadows across the earth.
Maggie glanced at him as he approached. “Hey,” she said in a low voice, but not one of real welcome.
“What’re you doing out here so late?” He eased closer, trying to get a better look at her face. “You okay?”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Yeah.”
Her flip-flop dropped from her foot. He wouldn’t have noticed the action except for the sparkle of rhinestones. Yet another contradiction to his first impression of her. Miss All Business, Give Me the Facts had a quirky side. Interesting.
Stabbing her big toe into the half dirt, half dried-up grass, she pushed backward in the hammock.
“Raja’s resting well,” Court said into the quiet night.
“Good.”
Her almost non-existent answer screamed of her distress.
“You know …” she pushed the hammock back and swung forward again “… women in this land are the family workhorses, carrying water for long distances, gathering food and building homes.”
Court spied a wooden chair beside a tree. He sat, arms resting on his knees, content to listen while she talked. Her voice had a pleasant, lyrical quality that soothed.
Maggie sighed. “A woman without a leg is dependent on the village to keep her alive. Her husband will put her out. She’s no use to him.”
She sobbed softly, her empathy for the woman almost a personal pain. Something in the sound of her sorrow suggested the grief went deep. Had someone done something similar to her?
The desire to wrap Maggie in his arms surprised him. The emotion was so foreign that he hardly recognized it for what it was. The tug was so strong he gripped the edge of the chair.
“I came here to help.” Her words were a murmur crossing the hot still air. “To make a difference. But I don’t see it happening. I told Raja what to do. Showed her how to bandage it …”
She raised her eyes to the starry heavens. “I appreciate you taking care of her.”
“You’re welcome.” He’d not felt so inadequate since that horrible night he’d failed his small patient. His jaw tightened. Caring wasn’t a feeling he would make a habit. He’d been running from his emotions since his brother had died and now he’d come smack up against them again. Heaven help him, for some reason this woman managed to pull them out of him.
She pushed into a slow swing. “So what did you think about clinic today?”
He sat up in the chair. “I’m more than impressed by the number of people seen and the vast array of medical issues needing treatment.”
Maggie dug her toe into the ground, bringing the hammock to a halt. She gave him a look he was confident would make a weaker person squirm and give up information.
“So, now you think we could use the grant?”
He put up his hand. “Ho, there. I didn’t say that. There’re many hospitals and programs needing money, a number closer to home. What I will say is I’ve been impressed with how efficiently the hospital runs with so few obvious resources.”
“Well, at least that’s something. Hopefully we’ll continue to impress you with our service, and you’ll see our need.” She scooted to the edge of the hammock.
The movement captured his attention, her hips shifting first one way then the other as she wiggled to the edge, supporting herself by holding on to the side. Not for the first time he longed to see her legs. What was the old saying? “Leave them wanting more?” Maggie had definitely perfected that objective.
She slipped her feet into the flip-flops. “It’s late.” She made an attempt to stand but fell into the hammock as it swung backward.
Court offered his hand. “Let me help you.” Her low-trilled laugh of embarrassment vibrated through him like a bow moving across the string of a bass violin.
Her hand hovered over his palm. For a second he feared she’d refuse his help. When her fingers touched his, the bolt of satisfaction stunned him.
Using him for leverage, Maggie pulled herself to her feet. She stood so close he could make out the faint wildflower smell of her shampoo. It was the most surprising thing he’d encountered in this arid land. It stood out in the surroundings like Maggie did.
What was her story? She seemed full of contradictions.
Maggie slid her hand from his, leaving him with a sense of loss. Gathering up her skirt in a hand so it no longer flowed around her legs, she headed toward their bungalows.
“I’ve been meaning to ask why the female staff wears long skirts in this heat.” He stepped over a protruding root.
She grinned over her shoulder.
The first real one he’d seen since he’d arrived.
“Wearing a skirt is cooler and more functional than you’ll ever believe. You should try one. Local men wear them all the time.”
He chuckled. “No, thanks, I’ll stick with scrubs and cargo pants.”
“The real reason we wear them …” she did an about-face and looked him straight in the eye “… is because the Mamprusi men find female thighs sexy. In America, breasts seem to be the thing, here it’s thighs.”
Court agreed with the Mamprusi.
She’d delivered the teasing bit of information like she gave a report during medical rounds. The upward curve to her lips and the slight shake of her shoulders said she wanted to laugh. “Do you have any other questions, Doctor?”
“No-o-o, I think that about sums it up.”
She giggled. A sense of rightness filled him—something he’d not felt in a long time.
They reached the spot in the path where they’d separate to go to their respective bungalows.
He touched her arm briefly to get her attention. “Hey, would you give me a crash course in Manprusi? It would sure make treating the patients easier if I learned a few basic words. Help put them at ease.”
“I guess so.” She turned, starting down the path.
In a couple of strides he caught up with her. “How about tomorrow afternoon? I understand the clinic’s closed,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d show me around the village, maybe give me a lesson then. I’d like to know more about the people. I don’t think the wild ride yesterday counted as a true visit.”
She took longer than he would have liked to answer. “I guess so. I planned to get some fruit and other items at the market anyway.”
“Aw, thanks for having compassion for the new guy in town.”
That brought a slight curve to her lips. Court watched as she walked to her door a few steps away, rubbing the spot he’d touched.
Maggie had been a little surprised when Court hadn’t balked at walking into the village when she’d suggested it. He acted like he made casual outings to a village regularly. While they moved along the crowded dusty road, she appreciated him matching his long-legged pace to her shorter one.
He hadn’t struck her as someone who routinely took time for a stroll but she couldn’t miss a chance to have him see up close how the locals lived and why they needed the Armstrong Foundation’s help. Convincing him to use his influence to give the hospital the funds they required was her primary objective. Otherwise she would’ve turned him down flat when he’d asked her to show him around. Something about having him close made her think she wouldn’t be enjoying a few relaxing hours. Court set her nerves tingling.
Court impressed her with his thoughtful and intelligent questions about the traditions and culture. Between his quizzing and her lectures on the area, they practiced simple words like “hello”, “pain”, “where”, “how long” in Mamprusi. He was a quick study, which by this time didn’t surprise her. He had a real aptitude for the difficult language. It wasn’t long before she expanded to using phases.
Maggie glanced inside the doorways of the simple square, dirt-brick buildings facing each other creating a wide main road. She pointed to one group. “These are the well-to-do businesses. Most of the locals live humbly, working daily just to stay alive.”
He seemed genuinely interested in the country’s history and the people. The closer they drew to the market, the more the number of people surrounding them increased. The sounds of bargaining filled the air, joining the ripe smell of fruit. “Stay close, I don’t want to lose you,” she said, turning a corner into a large open area filled with stalls. Colorful fruit, vegetables and a variety of meats were spread out in the open air on blankets with thin men squatting on their haunches beside their goods.
“You don’t think a tall, white man dressed in American clothing is going to stand out?”
With his piercing blue eyes, firm jaw and broad shoulders he’d stand out on the streets of New York City. The man was eye candy. “You have a point. Is there anything you’d like to look for while we’re here?”
“No, but I would like to practice what I’ve learnt when I can. I’ll just stick by your side.”
She wasn’t sure why the statement rattled her so much. “I’m not sure Where does it hurt? or Bandage it this way is going to work here.”
“I was thinking, Hello, goodbye, how are you? might, though.”
She stopped often as they made their way up and down the rows of vendors. She always gave Court a chance to speak to the merchant first. After he had done so, he seemed content to wait and listen from nearby. She couldn’t see those crystal-blue eyes for his sunglasses, but by the tilt of his head he watched what was happening intently.
The crowd thinned at one point and Court stepped beside her. “So, tell me how you came to work at the hospital?”
She bent to pick up a bunch of bananas, said a couple of words to the toothless man then handed him a coin and waited while Court said thank you. “I was working in a hospital ER. One of the traveling nurses told me about the Teligu Hospital and I was intrigued. I needed to make a change and decided to look into coming here.”
They moved on to the next vendor.
“Did you always want to work in a developing country?”
A house with children’s toys in the yard and a minivan in the drive flashed into her mind. “Not exactly.” The words were said slowly. “I’ve always wanted to be a nurse, though.”
He picked up a piece of corn still in its husk from the pile she studied.
“Mealie.” Maggie supplied the word.
Court repeated the word. “I wish they were all that easy.” Putting the ear back in the pile again, he asked, “Not exactly? What does that mean?”
“Little nosy, aren’t you?” She focused on the vegetables on the ground before her.
“Little touchy, aren’t you?”
Concentrating on the produce, she tried not to let the hurt show in her eyes. “We all have dreams that don’t work out, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
Maggie glanced at him. The simple word hid more than he let on. Did the aggravating doctor have a secret?
“What’s all this for?” He pointed toward the growing amount of food items stuffed into a woven basket she’d brought along.
Relieved at his change of subject, she said, “Supplies for a meal.”
“You cook?”
She put a hand on her hip. “Yes, I cook.” She mustered as much indignation as she could but tempered the words with a smile.
“I didn’t mean to imply …”
“I know what you were implying.”
“What I meant was where do you cook?”
“I use the mess hall kitchen on Sunday afternoons. I wish I could use it more often.”
“I’m a pretty fair cook myself.”
Maggie looked sideways at him in disbelief.
“I am. I learned to make meals on a one-eyed hot plate during medical school. I found cooking an excellent way to release stress after a long day.”
With his family background he’d done his own cooking? She would have thought he’d have his own personal chef.
“So who eats these meals you prepare?” Court asked.
She looked at him. “Fishing for an invitation?”
“Could be. I haven’t been here long but I already know your cooking has to be better than the usual fare in the mess hall. I’d be willing to assist. I could be your sous chef to earn one?” His grin seemed forced as if he’d not spontaneously shared one in a long time.
Maggie’s stomach tightened, flipped and righted in one motion. On Court the grin had been the sexiest she’d ever seen. If he did that and let those incredible eyes come out to play more often, getting an invite would be a sure thing. With a mental shake of her head she said, “We’ll see.”
Court asked to make her next purchase so he could practice his newfound skill. He did look at her once when the man spoke too fast. As they started back toward the hospital, the crowd thickened again. She’d just suggested they take a longer return route when a commotion drew her attention.
“Missy Maggie, Missy Maggie.” Neetie’s high-pitched voice filled the air. He rushed at her, wrapping his arms around her legs. Neetie’s forward movement propelled her backward. She stumbled and would’ve been flat on her back if it hadn’t been for the strong arm circling her waist.
“Ho, I’ve got you.” Court’s breath fluttered warmly against her ear.
The heat of his broad chest against her back reminded her of how long it had been since she’d been held by a man. She’d missed the contact.
Neetie circled to her side and pushed against the back of her legs until he squeezed between her and Court, squealing the entire time, “Help, Missy Maggie, help.”
The crowd gave way to a man swinging his hand above his head and shouting. Maggie could understand little of what was being said but she did hear the word take.

Court stepped in front of her and assumed a formidable stance. “Stay behind me.”
Maggie considered disagreeing with his directive but didn’t believe she could take on both Court and the angry man at the same time. Instead, she remained behind and to the side of Court, close enough that she felt him tense as the man approached.
Neetie worked himself between them, half hiding behind her and continuing to chatter. She looked down at the child and said, “Hush, Neetie.” He quieted but his eyes remained huge white circles in his dark face.
“Maggie, ask him to stop there, but do not move from behind me, understand?”
She did as instructed, bringing the irate man bearing down on them to a halt.
“Ask him what the problem is,” Court said in a tone that had the man looking at him instead of her.
She translated.
“Neetie stole.” She looked around Court and Neetie peeped around her legs.
Digging into his pocket, Court brought out a couple of coins and handed them to the man. He used his newfound words of Thank you and Goodbye and the man left.
Court turned, which brought his mouth to within inches of hers. Her breath caught and held for a moment. He had nice full lips. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. His eyes darkened.
Neetie pushed against their legs, disrupting the moment.
“Let’s get out of this crowd,” Court said.
Maggie moved the basket up on her arm and took Neetie’s hand, and Court clasped her other one. She tried to pull it away but Court held it securely.
“For heaven’s sake, Maggie, I just don’t want us to get separated in this mob.”
All of a sudden she felt silly and accepted the touch of her hand in his. It was no longer necessary for Court to protect her but it still felt nice to have someone look after her for a change.
Reaching the road back to the hospital, Court led them off to the side until they found the shade of a tree. He released her hand and looked down at Neetie.
The boy’s eyes widened with fear, and he hopped from side to side.
“Someone should take this child in hand. The boy needs to know he can’t steal.”
Maggie couldn’t disagree and she hoped to be the one receiving responsibility for Neetie soon. She needed to get Neetie’s village chief to agree. Would the chief and the village accept her as Neetie’s mother? She’d promise to see that Neetie’s culture was part of his life. She gave the boy an encouraging smile. Even if she couldn’t have a child of her own, her drive to protect remained strong. The pain that had ebbed to a dulled ache over the years sharpened again.
“I’ll handle this.” She went down on her knees to be at his eye level. “Neetie, what you did was wrong. You should never take what isn’t yours.”
“But I wanted—”
“That doesn’t matter. Court paid for what you took but you’ll have to repay him by working it off. I want you to sweep out his bungalow and take out the trash until you have paid him back.”
The boy’s eyes remained large as he glanced up at Court but he nodded his agreement.
From above her Court said, “Another thing, I want you to be careful about grabbing Missy Maggie. You could’ve knocked her down. Hurt her. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you?”
Neetie gave an earnest negative shake of his head, but still looked terrified. Couldn’t Court tell he was scaring the boy? Where had the congenial guy gone who had been with her before Neetie had shown up?
“I’m sorry, Missy Maggie.”
She opened her arms and Neetie stepped into them. After giving him a tight hug, she stood and turned to Court. “Thanks for your help back there. I don’t know if I could have handled the situation without you.”
“I’ve no doubt you could have.” His look met hers. “Maybe I earned that meal after all.”
Court had been called in early the next morning to help with an emergency and had been assisting in surgery ever since. He’d had to hustle to get a bite of lunch before going back. He’d not seen Maggie all day. It bothered him not to know where she was and what she was doing. Calling it curiosity and unable to stand it any longer, he’d asked and been told it was her day off.
Bottom line, he missed her. A foreign concept for him. He never let someone interest him enough to miss them. That’s what most of his lady friends complained about—he never really cared. He couldn’t.
Shaking his head in an effort to remove the idea, Court returned to seeing patients and worked late into the afternoon. He was on his way back to the bungalow when he saw Neetie running up the path. Court couldn’t help but be captured by the bundle of energy the young boy presented with his arms flying and sticklike legs pumping. Neetie made him think of the childhood question, “Is that you or are you riding a chicken?”
He sobered. He’d asked Neetie on their return to the hospital from the village how old he was. Neetie had said eight. The age Court had been when his brother had died. The same age that made his heart catch when he cared for a patient. He’d become a pediatrician because of his brother and wanting to help others like him, but in many ways it had been difficult. Especially when his actions caused a child to be disabled. The burden of failure weighed on him like a sack of heavy rocks he never put down.
Neetie slid to a stop out of arm’s reach, and looked up at Court with uncertain eyes.
A stab of regret cut through Court. Had he intimidated the boy so much yesterday that he was afraid of him? Court had never meant the boy to fear him.
Neetie pointed down the path from the direction he’d come. “Missy Maggie, help.”
Court’s heart jerked in his chest and he went down on one knee, meeting the boy at eye level. “What’s wrong with Missy Maggie?” The amount of worry those words held surprised Court. When had Maggie started becoming significant enough for him to feel any anxiety over her?
“She in …” Neetie seem to search for the word. He said something in Mamprusi.
“Box?” Court translated.
Neetie gave a vigorous nod and pointed toward the back of the compound.
“A box? What box? Show me.”
Neetie scampered down the winding path, and Court followed him at a lope. They went past the bungalows, around a small group of trees and came to what looked like an outdoor storage area. Sitting on the ground were two large metal overseas shipping containers. Neetie pointed into the container with the huge doors flung open. Court looked inside the dark cavern and found the box partially full.
Squinting, he waited while his eyes adjusted from the bright light of the outside to the almost pitch dark inside. He could make out aqua fifty-five gallon plastic drums. They were stacked two high, the top of the second one well above his head. Some of the drums had fallen and were lying at odd angles.
Panic surged through him. Maggie could be seriously hurt. Court stepped into the container. “Maggie?”
“I’m back here.”
Relief washed over him, to be replaced by flaming anger. What if he hadn’t gotten here in time? What if she’d been too hurt to cry out for help? “Where?” His fear made the word sharp. With a tight chest he took a deep breath and let it out in the hope of slowing his pulse and holding off his irritation at her for being so reckless.
“Straight back.”
He turned to Neetie. “You stay here.” Court pointed to the ground outside the container, making sure his instructions were clear. Neetie nodded. Court refused to allow another person be injured because he’d failed them. He needed to know that the boy was safe.
With a grunt Court righted a fallen drum. It was heavier than he’d anticipated. What in the world was Maggie doing in here by herself? When he got to her he was tempted to put her over his knee like he would have a disobedient child for scaring him. He continued to move barrels to the side, creating a narrow aisle. “Are you hurt?”
An exasperated sigh came from a few feet in front of him. “Not really.”
What the hell did “Not really” mean? “Are you bleeding anywhere?”
“No. Mostly it’s my pride that’s hurt.” Her voice became clearer as he worked his way closer. “I saw a drum marked ‘Bandages’ up on the top. I knew better than to climb up there and rock it but I did it anyway. I didn’t want to take the time to walk all the way to the hospital to get help.”
“Yeah, don’t do the smart thing. As always, handle it yourself,” Court mumbled, while he pushed at another drum with more force than necessary. She was the one everyone turned to for help at the hospital. Amazingly, she always gave it willingly.
“After the first one went they all started falling like dominos. One of the metal clips holding the top closed caught my clothes, and I went down with the barrels.”
Her chatter told him that she was more afraid than she’d first let on. Good, she should be. Maybe she’d learned a lesson. He’d reached the deepest part of the fifty-foot box that doubled as a furnace in the late-evening sun. Visibility was dismal at best but he could just make out the top of Maggie’s head. He uttered a curse under his breath when he thought of what could have happened. If he’d not seen Neetie …
Court righted the barrels and pushed them to the side, squeezing past them.
Maggie was trapped, half under a barrel. The fury he thought he had under control snapped. “Why’re you out here by yourself?” His words cut as sharply as a scalpel. “You should know better.”
With a glare, she said, “I do this all the time. It’s no big deal. I was doing it before you showed up, and I’ll be doing it when you’re gone,” she snapped.
She had him there. He had no business telling her what she should and shouldn’t do. But he still couldn’t get the gut-wrenching feeling of what could’ve happened to her out of his mind. He wiped away the sweat beading heavily on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It had to be over a hundred and ten. “How long have you been in here?”
“All together?”
“Yeah, all together.” The sarcasm snapped as bluntly as a dry twig. Yet his professional side kicked in. He needed to keep her talking until he could reach her, so she wouldn’t be afraid. She could be seriously injured and, if nothing else, she had to be dehydrated.
“I started working after lunch. A couple of the men were helping me but they got called away.”
“How long have you been pinned here?” He enunciated each word as he continued to shift barrels.
“Oh, maybe fifteen minutes.”
The temptation to shake her built within him. That fist-size ball of fear he always carried in his gut grew. She sounded so calm about it. It was a wonder she’d not passed out.
Court mumbled a word Neetie didn’t need to learn until he was much older. “Maggie, you could’ve …” He stopped himself from saying more. Getting irate and making her the same wasn’t going to help matters. Now was the time to use the cool he’d been so famous for when he’d practiced medicine. He called out the door, “Neetie, go to my bungalow. Get a jug of water and my med bag. It is by the door. Run.”
Nettie’s rapid prattle of response reached Court’s ears. Good, Maggie would need the water when he got her out of here.
Struggling with the bulk of a drum, it made a thump when it rocked on its end. He could see her well now. She sat on the floor of the container, with a drum over her legs, and thankfully one drum supported another so not all the weight rested on Maggie. Her back rested against another barrel.
She looked up at him and with a lift to her chin said, “Of all the places, in all the hospitals, in all the world …”
“Funny, Maggie, real funny.” His lips pulled into a tight line in his desire to stop himself from throttling her. Concern still knotted in his stomach for the risk she’d taken. Outside her being another human and him being a doctor, he couldn’t understand way Maggie being injured would matter so much. But it did. “You could’ve been really hurt.”
Court didn’t wait for an answer. He considered the drums above them. They looked steady in their places. “Can you hold that one away from you while I pull this one off?”
“Yes.”
“On three. One, two, three.” Court lifted the barrel, while supporting it with the edge of his foot to prevent it from sliding and falling back onto Maggie. With the drum on its end, he steadied it and moved it out of the way.
Her skirt had bunched up toward her waist, leaving a vast amount of leg exposed and a hint of bright red panties between. As he’d suspected, Maggie had fine legs. Superiorly fine ones.
She swiftly tugged the material down, making herself decent but not totally covering her thighs, before attempting to struggle to her feet. Court reached out to help her. She appeared unhurt but when she put her right foot down, she slumped into him.
“Ooh.”
His arm circled her waist, supporting her. “So you did hurt yourself.”
“Don’t sound so self-satisfied, Doctor. My ankle got caught between two of the drums on the way down, and I pulled it out. It’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“I’ll have a look at it after we get you out of here.”
Court led her through the maze of barrels, assisting the best he could, though they both had to squeeze past drums in some spots. Reaching the open area, he swung Maggie into his arms.
“What’re you doing?” she squeaked and shifted against him. “Put me down.”
Tightening his hold, he said, “Carrying you.” Her body was too hot against him. He had to get her in the shade.
“I can walk.”
“Yeah, I saw how well you stood back there. You hang on for a minute, and I’ll put you down when we get out of this third circle of hell.”
Court felt Maggie’s soft laugh against his chest before he heard it. If he hadn’t already been burning up he might have heated more in response to her mirth surrounding him like the sweet smell of spring. He wanted it to last.
He blinked a couple of times before his eyes became accustomed to the brightness of the outside. He found the nearest tree and headed for it, placing Maggie on the ground underneath it. She pushed at the damp curls that had escaped to fall around her face. “I need to fix my hair.”
“Leave it be. It looks fine.” Kneeling beside her, Court removed her thong from her foot.
“Hey, what’re you doing?”
“I’m getting ready to examine you.” He lifted her leg and she made a frantic movement to push her skirt down from where it had slid up her leg. “You do realize I have seen a woman’s leg before?”
“Yes, I imagine you’ve seen many.”
If he weren’t so worried she might be injured, he would’ve enjoyed the feel of her skin beneath his hand. Running his fingers over the delicate bones of her ankle and halfway up her calf, he found nothing broken.
She jerked her leg from his hand. “I appreciate your concern but I’m fine.” She rotated her ankle a couple of times, before she reached down and rubbed it gently.
Amused at the flustered way she acted, he said, “Seems so.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of me, Doc?”
He sat down beside her. He’d learned that when she was ruffled or wanted to put him in his place she used his title instead of his name. “Maybe just a little bit, Nurse. Neetie should be here in a minute with some water, then we’ll get you to your bungalow.”
“I still have work to do here.”
“You’re done for the day. Doctor’s orders.”
“But we need the bandages for clinic tomorrow.”
Stubborn woman. “You do know you got off easily. You could’ve been crushed.” He wasn’t going to let her go back into the container tonight or any other day by herself ever again. She wouldn’t appreciate it but he planned to speak to Dr. Roberts about what had happened. “I’m already tempted to shake you, so don’t push me any further.”
“Aren’t you overreacting a little bit, Doctor?”
Maybe he was, but for a gut-twisting moment while in that box he’d felt that out of control, numbing fear he’d swore never to experience again. He gave her his best pointed look, which had sent many a nurse running, hoping to make it clear he would hold to his threat. Needing to get her mind on something else before they fought, he said, “What’s in all these drums anyway?”
“Bandages. Some medical supplies. The envelopes we use to dispense medicine.”
“Really?” He wondered about the simple supplies he’d seen used but hadn’t thought to ask. During clinic no one had the time to answer unrelated medical questions. “Where do they come from?”
“From the States mostly. Different groups strip old sheets and roll them. They’re what we use on the sores we see so many of. Churches send us unused offering envelopes to put meds in. A couple of ladies in Georgia ship us a container about every two years. It’s a big help to the hospital.”
“Interesting, and impressive. But why are you down here working on your day off?”
“Someone has to do it.” Before Court could comment, Neetie arrived with the water and his bag. Standing, Court took the jug, which was almost too large for the boy to handle, bent to one knee and held it to Maggie’s lips. She grasped it, guzzling the water. Court supported her back and the jug while she took a long swallow. She’d been more desperate for water than she’d let on. Did she ever complain?
“Slow and easy there. You don’t want to overdo it.”
Maggie nodded but kept drinking. Finally she’d taken her fill and released the jug. Court offered her a couple pills for pain.
“I don’t need those.”
“Take them anyway.”
She removed the medicine from his hand. In her haste to take them, water ran down her chin and across her chest to wet her thin white shirt. Court could make out the valley between Maggie’s breasts and the lacy outline of her bra.
The second she realized the direction his gaze had taken she gave a little yelp, put the jug on the ground and covered herself with her arms.
Court stood and reached for the jug in one movement. He took a long swig of the water but it did little to ease his frustration. It didn’t cool his libido. Maggie hid secrets that he’d had a sneak peek at today. No doubt she had other equally fascinating qualities. Ones he refused to let himself explore.
What was happening to him? He had no business being interested in her. Why did Maggie hold such fascination for him?
He’d always enjoyed women. Had all the women friends he wanted, more in some cases. But he never allowed himself to care. Wasn’t even sure if he knew how. But for a reason unknown to him this simply dressed, zero makeup, perspiration-soaked, workaholic woman had him wanting to find a spring pool, strip her and spend time showing her the delights between a man and a woman.
Damn. The African sun was already getting to him. Maggie began making movements to stand. Court handed the jug to Neetie and grasped her arm to steady her. She started to pull away but when her ankle gave way, she accepted his help. She hobbled a few yards beside him.
With a resigned sigh, Court leaned down and stretched his arms out in invitation.
“I can make it.”
“Yeah, right,” Court said in a gruff tone and scooped her up into his arms. “You and I both know you’re going to need to keep off that foot for tonight at least. So shut up and enjoy the ride.”
Maggie’s indignant huff fluttered his shirt as she lay stiffly in his arms.

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