The Doctor's Lost-and-Found Heart

Except now she wasn’t tired, and she did care, because … Well, it was the jungle. It was always the jungle, and the jungle always made her feel like someone other than who she was. Why? No clue. But from the moment she arrived here—every single time she arrived here—the old Amanda started giving way to the new one. Sometimes it crept out of her by slow measures, sometimes it leaped, like a hungry panther.

Sure, there had to be a psychology to it, and as a psychologist she should have been able to figure it out. But maybe she liked the way she felt when she unpinned her hair and took off her pearls, which was why she avoided that little analysis. It just plain felt good to be Argentina Amanda.

So here she was, throwing off those figurative pearls by changing into something more comfortable than linen slacks and fitted blouse, anxious to get on with the panther inside her. Yet when she opened the door, she couldn’t take that leap. That was the other Amanda fighting to take her back. The one who took control so completely now all she could do was stand in the doorway and stare at Jack, who’d apparently shooed Ezequiel away then stretched out flat on his bed. Either asleep already, or trying to bring on a self-induced trance.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, and to help her hang on to the last few shreds of that other Amanda … shreds she was a little afraid to let go of. “Look, Ben’s in clinic for another hour, and I’m on my way to the kitchen to see what I can find to eat. Care to come with me?”

“Thanks … not hungry,” Jack said.

“Thirsty? There’s always a pitcher of fresh lemonade.”

“Not thirsty.”

This was the way it was going to be? “Are you always so non-responsive?” she asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a doctor, and doctors are supposed to be responsive.” He rose up, arched the sexiest eyebrows she’d ever seen in her life, and simply stared so hard at her she began to feel self-conscious. “What?” she finally asked.

He didn’t answer, though. Instead, he lay back down and shut his eyes. Then finally said, “You’re being responsive enough for the both of us. No need for me to join in and interrupt what you’re doing so well.”

Now he was playing with her. Look out, Jack Kenner. Because as sexy as he was to look at, he was just that challenging to be around, and she did love a good challenge. A thought that added just a bit more jungle wind to Amanda’s sails as she tossed the clothes she’d been wearing down on her bed, then headed to the door of the hut. “Well, here’s one more responsive moment from me, Jack. Those boots … keep them under your bed. Not in the middle of the floor. In fact, keep everything about you on your side. I don’t like messiness.”

“And I don’t like fussy roommates. Which makes this a stand-off, doesn’t it?”

“Not really,” she said, smiling as she spun around and marched straight back to the middle of the room, where she bent down, picked up those boots then strode straight to the window, opened it and hurled them outside. “Not when there’s a simple solution.”

Jack’s only response was to rise up again, give her a good, hard stare, toe to head, then back down again. A stare so hard she could feel it graze her curves. Suddenly she was feeling self-conscious that her white shorts might be a little too short, or her white vest top a little too tight. Too much leg, too much chest.

“Okay, then,” she finally said when Jack said nothing. “If you change your mind about that lemonade …”

By the time she was finally pouring that lemonade, she was back on course. Not as much as she wanted to be, though. Because that little episode in the guest hut, that up-and-down emotional swing—attracted, frustrated, attracted, frustrated—definitely wasn’t her. These clothes weren’t her. Nothing here was her. Not really. Yet it all felt so right. All except Jack, and she had no idea how what was going on inside her raised so many quivers, hackles, goose bumps and objections all at the same time.

The thing was, she knew she should avoid Jack. Maybe even wanted to. But could she? Truly, honestly, could she? And if she could, would she?

CHAPTER TWO

“I KNOW you’re familiar with the basic concept, but let me give you a little background on hospital-acquired infections,” Jack said, settling into a wooden chair across the table from Amanda, trying hard to regard her professionally. Not easy considering the way she looked.

“Believe me, I’ve been reading. And I think my brother has probably spent some time on his hands and knees trying to sanitize the ward. The thought of being sick because of something we’re doing … ” She shook her head. “We’ve got to stop it, Jack. Whatever it takes, we’ve got to stop it.”

“Might not be what you’re doing so much as what’s being done to you,” Jack said. “Everybody blames themselves, especially in smaller, more contained hospitals like Caridad, but these bugs, as I’ll call them for lack of a better definition, aren’t predictable, and just when you think you’re on to something … ” He shrugged. “Everything changes. Like life, in a lot of ways.”

He studied Amanda for a moment, saw absolutely no resemblance to Ben whatsoever. While Ben was fair, she was so … His guess would have been Argentinian, actually. Possibly from the Pampas region, Mapuche descent, which she wasn’t, of course. But maybe that was just what he wanted to see in her because her eyes were the same color as Rosa’s, and her skin the same tone. Odd, how coming back after all this time affected him, seeing Rosa everywhere he looked.

“Anyway,” he continued, shaking himself back into the moment, “internationally, the incidence of a hospital-acquired infection makes up nearly nine percent of all hospitalizations, with pediatrics being even higher than that. Unfortunately, in Latin and South America, more of these infections turn into critical situations than in most other areas in the world. And we’re talking things like methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, an Enterobacter species resistant to ceftriaxone, and even Pseudomonas aeruginosa resistant to fluoroquinolones. To name a few.”

Amanda pushed a can of soda in Jack’s direction, and leaned back in her chair. “So what do we do about Caridad to keep this thing from spreading? It won’t take much to shut our doors, and the area can’t afford to have us shut down for even a little while because the next nearest medical service is about half a day away.” She paused, took a drink of her own soda, then set the can down on the table. “This is killing my brother. He blames himself.”

“But it’s not his fault.”

“Logically, he knows that. He feels responsible, though. That’s the way he is, taking on everybody’s problems. I mean, the first time I ever met him, there he was all stalwart in his new brother duties, showing me around the house, the yard, the neighborhood. You’d have thought he was going to be my adoptive father and not my brother. Yet he has that sense of purpose ….”

She was adopted? So, maybe he was right. “It’s human nature to feel responsible when we’re sidelined the way Ben is right now. He sees his world falling apart and there’s not a damned thing he can do about it. But he’s lucky to have a sister who cares.”

“You have Cade.”

“Cade and I are only now becoming acquainted. I think that kind of relationship is a long way off for us.”

“I hope it happens, because you’re right. I’m lucky. Ben and I are as opposite as two people could be in most regards, which is pretty obvious, but we formed a tight bond almost instantly.” She laughed. “After he quit trying to find ways to get rid of me. He sold me a couple times, traded me, and then there was the time he simply took me down the street to the neighbor’s house and told me to wait on the doorstep until they came home, then tell them it was their turn to be my parents.”

“Did you?”

She nodded, and her eyes softened. “And Ben got in so much trouble. But he felt threatened, having this new sister just drop in from nowhere. Maybe if my parents had adopted me when I was a baby … ” Pausing, the slight smile of reminiscence dropped from her face. “Jack, you’re pretty straightforward. I don’t think you’d soft-pedal something to spare someone’s feelings.”

“That’s a pretty low opinion of me.”

“But I heard you at the hospital back in Texas, the way you talked to people, your interactions.”

“I’ve been accused of being blunt.”

“Then be blunt with me. Tell me what you see when you look at me. You’ve traveled extensively, lived in so many places around the world—South America, Africa, the Mediterranean regions. More than anybody I’ve ever known. So, when you look at me, do you see anything you recognize? A nationality? The hint of something you’ve seen before somewhere? Because of your background, I’ve wanted to ask you almost from the first time we met. But how do you simply blurt out something like that? And I’ll admit I’m a little afraid to know.”

“It wasn’t in your adoption records?”

She shook her head. “There weren’t any adoption papers, no records. Nothing.”

Jack swallowed hard. But didn’t answer.

“I’ve tried to find out. But the best I’ve come up with is that the adoption agency told my parents they believe I’m from some sort of Mediterranean background. Except …”

“Except you don’t believe that.”

“Except when I look in the mirror and want to believe that I am, the image looking back at me doesn’t have a clue. But you do, don’t you? You’re trained to observe, and you don’t miss things. That’s what makes you the best in the world at what you do.”

“Hospital infections and what you’re asking me to do are two entirely separate things, Amanda,” he said, not sure what to do with this. “What I do with a hospital infection is make a logical guess based on what I see, then do the tests to prove I’m either right or wrong.”

“How often are you wrong?”

He shook his head. “Never,” he said, clenching his jaw so hard the ache was starting to set in.

“Then make a logical guess based on what you see.”

“Why me?”