Still, what was it that had her nearly running away from a man she’d only just met?
“Look, Caprice, I don’t blame you for being angry, but I’ve made arrangements to stay.”
That stopped her. Dead in her tracks, actually. Taking a firmer grip on Isabella’s hand, she turned around slowly to face him. “So now you want to stay?” she snapped. “Quit one minute, come back the next?”
“I always wanted to stay,” he defended himself. “I didn’t think my circumstances would allow it, but I’ve made some arrangements that’ll let me stay here.”
She should have been glad to hear it, and deep down she was, but she still wasn’t able to react the way she should. Something about the man put her on the defensive. “Arrangements you could have made before you let me know how little you think of your obligation to Operation Smiling Faces? You’re not making a good first impression here, Doctor.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she couldn’t tell if the look was speculative, angry or amused. And that put her on the defensive all the more. “We’re a serious operation, and we deserve more respect than you’re giving us. I’m not so sure I want someone working with us who has an obvious lack of real concern for what we do, as you seem to.”
“You talk a lot, Doctor,” he said, his face dead serious even though a twinkle was in his dark eyes. “And say all the wrong things for someone who, only a few minutes ago, wanted me to stay.”
Standing there doing nothing more than staring at her, he was disarming her. Disarmed in one twinkle. Bad sign. Very bad sign, and she drew in a sharp breath to steady her resolve. “You expect me to grovel and slobber out a thank you after what you’ve put me through? Is that what this is about now? You’re trying to humble me, trying to put me in my place?”
“This is me trying to extend a sincere apology and honor my commitment. And what I expect you to do is get me to Operation Smiling Faces the fastest way you can.” He stepped up next to Isabella, who immediately latched onto his hand. “I’m sorry we got off to a bad start, and even more sorry about almost leaving. None of it is what I’d intended to happen, but it did, and all I can do is keep on apologizing. Or go to the hospital and start work, if you’ll have me. Your choice, Caprice. Do I stay, or do I go?”
In answer, Caprice started off toward the airplane, she holding one of Isabella’s hands, he holding the other. Neither Caprice nor Adrian spoke, but sandwiched between them, Isabella was smiling for all she was worth.
The flight was smooth enough, and Grant was certainly a fine pilot, but basically Caprice hated flying and hated flying in these little planes even more. Good thing for the Dramamine already in her system. She never flew without it. Good thing for the earphones, too, and the drone of Mozart from the CD player in her ears. None of this actually alleviated all her nervousness over stepping into an oversized tin can and having somebody hurl it straight into the air, but anything, short of tranquilizers, which she never took, that calmed her down and got rid of the nausea was just fine with her.
Isabella had gone to sleep almost immediately after they’d left the landing strip. She was curled up in the seat across from Caprice, totally oblivious to all the things that were currently making Caprice jumpy. Just as well. Poor child had enough problems without heaping her own phobia on top of them.
And Adrian… When he wasn’t sitting with a scowl on his face and a black cloud hanging over his head, he was shouting medical talk at Grant over the clatter of the engine. And so it went for the entire trip. When they finally landed on the grass strip cut into the thick of the jungle outside Golfito, Caprice was ready to get out and kiss the ground, she was so happy to be back.
“You don’t like flying much, do you?” Adrian asked, taking the sleeping child from the seat and carrying her to the door.
Caprice stepped up to take Isabella away from him, but he didn’t give her that choice. Instead, he exited the plane carrying her, taking obvious pains not to jostle or awaken her. Then when they were all on the ground and Caprice made another attempt to take Isabella, he shrugged her off.
“I can do that,” she whispered.
He smiled. “So can I, and for me she’s not so heavy.”
Caprice wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was he being considerate, or was he trying to impose himself into a place he didn’t belong? Maybe her need to over-protect was causing her to read more into a simple gesture than was there. “I hate flying,” she said, falling into step with Adrian as they crossed the grass on the way to the pickup truck sent to fetch them. “Always have. Always will.”
“There are pills for that,” he said.
“I could get liquored up, too, but I don’t. It’s easier to listen to Mozart. Better for the body, too.”
Adrian gave Caprice a sideways glance, one that extended from head to toe—one she was not unaware of—then returned his focus to the truck ahead. “Look, I know we’re off to a bad start here, and I’m sorry about that. Since I’ve decided to stay, I’d like for us to find some way to have a cordial working relationship.”
“Since you’ve decided to stay?” she snapped. “Your first choice is to not be here. I don’t know what changed your mind and kept you here, Dr McCallan, and truthfully I don’t want to know. We don’t get into other people’s personal business. But as for that cordial working relationship you want…our working relationships here don’t have outside factors coming into them. We don’t allow that. We have a lot of work to do in a very short time, and distractions are costly. So if you want cordial, that’s fine. But as for your bad start, that’s not so easily forgotten. You nearly threw us into a position that would have damaged us, and it was clear that staying here and honoring your obligation wasn’t important enough to you. And even now you’re only here because something else came up that kept you from going home. That didn’t get past me, Dr McCallan. So, as far as I’m concerned, you can be as sorry as you want, but I’m wary and I’m going to stay wary until you prove yourself to me. Now, would you, please, hand me my daughter?”
“Do you hate all men, or is it just me?” he asked, still hanging onto the sleeping girl.
Caprice narrowed her eyes in anger. “This mission is about the children, Dr McCallan. That’s all it’s about. You don’t get to ask me personal questions.”
“So do you like your work?” he asked, stopping next to the old, green, dented, rusty truck and turning to face Caprice.
“I said no questions.”
A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You said personal questions. Asking you about your work is totally professional.”
Caprice opened the door to the passenger section behind the front seat and climbed in, then stretched out her arms to take Isabella. “How I feel about my work is highly personal, Dr McCallan,” she said as he slid the child over to her. Then, instead of continuing the discussion between them, or the argument, depending upon the perspective, she slammed the door shut, leaving Adrian to climb into the front seat with Grant and a local named Don Pepe, who’d volunteered to bring the truck to the landing strip.
No one said a word all the way to the hospital, partly because Isabella was still sleeping soundly—sleeping the way only a child could under the circumstances—and partly because Caprice’s bad mood seem to permeate even the rusty metal of the old truck. It wasn’t rational, the way she was feeling. She knew that. She even tried to force herself into a better mood, but something about Adrian McCallan was setting her off, and she simply didn’t know what it was. Meaning there was no way to put it right. She tried convincing herself that his preference to leave was the reason but, honestly, she knew better. That was only part of it, and the rest was a great big blank.
Sleep. After a good night of it things would be better tomorrow. She was sure of that. Well, not so sure as much as she hoped that would be the case. Because one thing was certain. If she didn’t