She quickly changed the subject to more mundane conversation about the hospitals where she and Jennifer worked, and he only half listened as he thought about Annabelle. Her first mission trip had been only four years ago, and she’d told him...what? That this was her ninth one? That was a lot of vacation time taken for this kind of trip. Most women he knew from both Peru and the US who had the means preferred taking spa vacations or trips to exotic locations. Just as he was about to ask her where else she’d gone on mission trips, and why, his cell phone rang.
He glanced down and nearly cursed when he saw it was the general surgeon from a Lima hospital that he’d asked to open the currently closed clinic near Huancayo for the duration of this trip. Not a conversation he wanted to have in front of everyone.
“Excuse me a moment,” he said, getting up to stride to the hotel door. As he did so, he swore he could feel Annabelle’s blue eyes drilling a hole in his back, but of course that was his imagination.
“Thanks for calling, Eduardo. So, are you able to take a week or so to work in Huancayo?”
“Good timing from this end. I can be there the day after tomorrow, with Alan Velasco coming to do anesthesia with you at your clinic the same day.”
“Glad to hear it. Thanks for making that happen. When I learned that the Huancayo clinic hadn’t been open for over a year, I knew we should get a surgeon up there if at all possible. So I appreciate you going.” And never mind that lack of recent care wasn’t the only reason he’d wanted to get it open for business.
“We Peruvians have to look after our own when we can, right? Alan and I’ll be at your clinic on Tuesday with a nurse who’s agreed to help me, then I’ll take the anesthesiologist you want working with me down to Huancayo.”
Peruvians looked after their own? He knew that wasn’t always true. Those like his own family with education and wealth and privilege were certainly well taken care of. But those living in poverty on the other side of the infamous wall of shame in Lima that had been compared to the Berlin Wall? The deeply poor living in the many remote towns in Peru that the various mission groups were devoted to help? Not so much.
“Thanks again. I’ll let Dr. Richards know she’ll be helping get the clinic open in Huancayo. See you when you get here.”
He should be elated, since this was exactly how he’d hoped it would all turn out. Instead, a small knot formed in his gut as he pondered how to talk to Annabelle about the change of plans. But surely, if he played it right, she’d be happy to be helping patients in a part of the country that hadn’t received medical care or surgeries for a long time. Right?
Daniel shook off his unease and headed back toward the hotel. Whatever he was feeling was ridiculous and made no sense. He’d have a top-notch anesthesiologist working with him on the delicate heart surgeries, and more children and adults with health problems would be seen during the next couple of weeks in Huancayo, where the need was real. Annabelle might never know he’d been the one to get the clinic open but even if she did, she’d probably assume it had come about organically, without any agenda other than having more doctors available to care for more patients. A win for everyone.
The shining halo of Annabelle’s pale blond hair shone through the falling darkness in front of the hotel, just as it had at dawn this morning, spilling to her shoulders in silky waves. His steps slowed as he thought through how he was going to tell her about the change of plans in a way that would make her feel fine about it. Then stopped completely to watch her crouch down to a feral cat, offering it a morsel of food that had it purring and rubbing against her ankles. The sexy roundness of her bottom and hips caught his attention, and the sweet, low sound of her voice crept under his skin.
“Ah, you’re such a little sweetie, aren’t you?” she cooed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The hotel manager told me not to feed you, so this is just between us, okay? No more meowing out here in the middle of the night. Got it?”
In answer, the cat flopped onto its back, purring even louder, and Annabelle laughed softly as she scratched its belly, an indulgent smile on her face. “I can tell you’re going to get me in trouble. Just so you know, I’m going to swear it wasn’t me giving you treats. We’ll blame Daniel Ferrera instead, but you have to back me up on this.”
“Won’t work,” Daniel said, a smile twitching his lips even as he wanted to ask her why she’d put the blame on him instead of someone else staying in the hotel. “I’m now a witness to your illicit activities.”
Annabelle jumped to her feet, twisting to face him, and her alarmed and guilty expression nearly made him chuckle. “Oh! Dr. Ferrera. Why are you sneaking up on people in the dark like that? You startled me.”
“My apologies. I didn’t realize it could be considered sneaking since I was walking in full view on the designated path to the front door.”
“Well, it’s almost dark and you should have made more noise.”
“So I wouldn’t hear you plotting against me?”
She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. “If I did plot against you, it would be tit for tat, wouldn’t it? However, I’m not that kind of person.”
“Uh-huh. No way am I going to be the fall guy if a cacophony of meows wakes up the whole hotel.”
“I was just kidding about blaming you. Even though you blamed me for something that wasn’t my fault. Or at least was only partially my fault. But that’s long over with and I’m going to put it behind me. No plotting against you.”
That knocked the smile off his face because, yeah, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he was plotting against her, given everything he’d orchestrated to get her services transferred to the other clinic.
“Anyway,” she continued in a stiff and professional voice that had him regretting that their light banter was obviously over, “what’s tomorrow’s surgical schedule?”
“Full day again,” he replied. “We need to get going no later than seven to fit them all in, especially since a couple of the diagnostics we were given aren’t very clear. May find some surprises during surgery that will take longer than we expect.”
“That happens about fifty percent of the time anyway,” she said as she slung the small green backpack over her shoulder that she seemed to carry everywhere.
“True.” Now was the time to tell her about the new plans for her upcoming trip to Huancayo, and he hoped she was perfectly fine with it, not figuring there was anything to it other than helping more people. He drew a breath, only to expel it as he watched her move the backpack strap down to the crook of her elbow, her face scrunching up a little with obvious discomfort as she reached to massage her neck and shoulder. “Is your arm hurting you?”
“I don’t want to say.” Her voice was mulish even as she winced. “Especially to you.”
“Why not?”
“What procedure does our first patient need?” she asked, ignoring his question and dropping her hand from her trapezius muscle. “I want to be ready with everything so we stay on schedule and maybe even catch up a little.”
“Four-year-old has coarctation of the aorta, but I suspect we may find more issues during surgery, as the imaging isn’t very good. Tell me why your arm hurts.”
“I took a swing at an arrogant, holier-than-thou doctor in the States just before leaving there. Very satisfying, but I miscalculated the impact on my own body.”
“Uh-huh. I know you wanted to take a swing at me five years ago, maybe even with a long, sharp knife. But since you didn’t, violence doesn’t seem to be your answer to conflict.” He reached to fold her hand into a fist and tapped it against his chin. “However, if you want to punch me now and get it out of your system, go ahead. I can take it.”
A short laugh, then a scowl, before she yanked her hand back. “No,