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.”