To Save This Child

“My mission is similar. How would you like to be part of that mission?”

“Me? How?”

“Because you speak the Mexican dialects. Because I’ll promise to give Paroveen a thorough clinical trial down there. You can bring a case of the stuff with you. You can keep your own records. Merrill Jackson will love it. They should even get some great PR out of the deal.”

Behind him, Kendal now noticed, Kathy Martinez was smiling broadly, encouraging her. The nurse named Ruth was smiling, too, but with a kind of uncertainty.

“You’re saying you need an interpreter?”

“Absolutely. I speak a little Spanish, of course, and so does Ruth—” he motioned to the beautiful nurse “—but not fluently. The patients are hurting, frightened. They talk fast and the dialect is tricky. A good interpreter is crucial. What do you say? Will you consider it?”

“When?”

“Next week.”

“Next week?”

“Sorry. My regular interpreter got sick. I just found out yesterday.” He shot Kathy Martinez a meaningful glance.

“Isn’t that pretty short notice for getting me on board for a trip to Mexico?”

“You said you’d been there. I assume your passport is still current.”

“Well…yeah, but—”

“The other arrangements won’t be a big deal. Every year, I choose my own team, fly my own plane. We take our own security guard, Ben Schulman from the hospital. All of these nurses have gone down there at one time or another.”

The trio behind him nodded in affirmation.

“Ask them how fulfilling it is to help the poor, to change lives for the better. It will be a perfect opportunity to demonstrate the effectiveness of your new drug in a setting where it is desperately needed. Maybe Merrill Jackson would donate some immunizations, too.”

Kendal didn’t know how the conversation had taken this radical turn from slightly flirtatious to genuinely idealistic, but it had.

“I see. I…I’ll have to check my schedule. And I’ll have to get approval from my company.” But that wouldn’t be a problem, she was sure. Her boss had been very clear—do whatever you have to do.

“Of course.”

“We’d better get downstairs,” the willowy Ruth interjected. She stepped up beside Bridges.

But Jason Bridges stepped toward Kendal, facing her squarely, moving in close with his palm outstretched. “Give me one of your cards,” he said. “I’ll call you and we’ll set up a time to get together and discuss this. I’ll also have to teach you a bit about the types of surgery we do. You’ll end up answering a lot of questions for the patients and families. We’ll have a lot of preparation to do in a week’s time.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.” But while she was handing him one of her cards Kendal was thinking, He can’t be serious. Me? On a medical mission to Mexico? In only a week?

He took the card. He glanced at it, then smiled into her eyes again. And again Kendal thought of The Wolf and how thoroughly dangerous it felt to be the object of this man’s attention. Like he could talk you into almost anything. She felt her cheeks heating up and was glad when he turned back to Ruth.

He stuffed Kendal’s card in the pocket of his leather jacket with the brochure, then said to his scrub nurse, “The patient is elderly. Very fragile. No room for screwups. I’d like you to be the one to set up downstairs, not one of those O.R. nurses.”

“Already done.” Ruth favored her boss with a cover model smile and a look of supreme confidence.

“Great. Remind me to give you a big old Christmas bonus.” Jason put a guiding hand to the small of his nurse’s back, and as the two of them hurried out the door his flashing eyes fixed on Kendal one last time. “I’ll talk to you soon, Kendal.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“PARDON ME?” Kendal tapped the security guard’s huge shoulder, which felt like it was carved out of marble. “You’re Ben Schulman, right?”

He turned, and Kendal looked up into the kindly handsome face that went with the killer body. The name tag on his massive chest read SCHULMAN, so of course this had to be the Gentle Ben that the nurses all talked about. Usually their talk bemoaned the fact that this fabulous hunk of male was not interested in women.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kendal always greeted the younger man when she came into the hospital early in the mornings, when she was trying to catch up with the surgeons before they got too busy. He was always polite, always calling her “ma’am.”

Covering the night shift, Ben Schulman made for an imposing presence at the front entrance of the hospital. He was a six-foot-four blond wunderkind with a body builder’s physique and a choirboy’s face. The endless, swirling hospital rumors had painted Ben with a pretty broad brush. Religious fanatic. But a not-so-latent homosexual. But Kendal’s impression of him was that he was totally professional. Stoic, polite, nice. Approachable, should one need help. Aggressive, should one be up to no good. Definitely idealistic. A real “serve and protect” kind of guy.

“I’m Kendal Collins.” She extended her hand and he gently shook it. “I understand you accompany Dr. Bridges on his Doctors Without Borders missions to Mexico.”

His face broke into a boyish smile. “We’re not associated with Doctors Without Borders, per se. But yes, this will be my third trip to Chiapas.”

“Could I ask you a few questions about that? When you have a minute?”

He frowned. “Why? Are you a reporter or connected to the hospital PR department or something? I was under the impression you did sales of some kind.”

“I do.” She handed him the card she had at the ready. “I’m in sales for Merrill Jackson. But Dr. Bridges has asked me to accompany him on the Chiapas trip as an interpreter. I thought we should meet, and I’d like to find out a little more about what I’d be getting myself into.”

Ben studied the card, then her. His expression was carefully neutral, not surprising considering his job, but even so, Kendal could see that he was uncomfortable about something. “Working with Dr. Bridges is quite an experience. But I’ll be happy to tell you everything I know.” He checked his watch. “I get off in twenty minutes.”

“Meet me at the Daylight Deli then. I’ll buy breakfast.”

DAYLIGHT DELI was situated in the middle of the hospital concourse that connected four enormous buildings. It faced an open courtyard and had the kind of atmosphere desperately needed in a place where people were suffering and worrying and working too hard. An atmosphere that said, “Peace. Relax. We’ll feed you.”

The food was excellent, and the place was often packed with hospital personnel in lab coats and scrubs, business-suited executives, casually dressed visitors, exhausted relatives and even the occasional patient. It was especially busy at eight o’clock in the morning. Everybody was hustling for a mug of the deli’s gourmet coffee, a cup of fragrant herbal tea, a fresh-baked muffin or one of its infamous sticky buns.

Kendal felt fortunate when two lab techs vacated a small table that was out of the way by the windows. She rolled her cart into the nearby corner, sat down and waited, thinking about what she should ask the security guard.

Before long Ben came in. From behind the counter the owner looked up. The man wore an earring and a kerchief on his head and called most of his customers “sweetie.” He hollered, “Ben!” and Ben answered, “Hey, Nolan!”

When Ben spotted Kendal in the corner, she waved at him.

“What can I get for you?” Kendal offered as Ben approached the table.

“A strawberry banana smoothie would be great, thanks.”

The owner winked at her when Kendal and Ben walked up to the counter. He was already making the smoothie. “He always has the same thing. What can I get for you, sweetie?”

Kendal craved a sticky bun in the worst way, but she ordered a small serving of fruit salad instead. This kind of discipline was second nature to her by now, but it was never easy.

Once he got the smoothie whirring in the blender, the owner said, “You guys know each other?” while looking back and forth from Ben to Kendal.

“Kendal Collins. Nolan Nelson. Kendal’s a pharmaceutical sales rep around here.”