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