The Nurse He Shouldn't Notice

“Let’s get out of this crowd,” Court said.

Maggie moved the basket up on her arm and took Neetie’s hand, and Court clasped her other one. She tried to pull it away but Court held it securely.

“For heaven’s sake, Maggie, I just don’t want us to get separated in this mob.”

All of a sudden she felt silly and accepted the touch of her hand in his. It was no longer necessary for Court to protect her but it still felt nice to have someone look after her for a change.

Reaching the road back to the hospital, Court led them off to the side until they found the shade of a tree. He released her hand and looked down at Neetie.

The boy’s eyes widened with fear, and he hopped from side to side.

“Someone should take this child in hand. The boy needs to know he can’t steal.”

Maggie couldn’t disagree and she hoped to be the one receiving responsibility for Neetie soon. She needed to get Neetie’s village chief to agree. Would the chief and the village accept her as Neetie’s mother? She’d promise to see that Neetie’s culture was part of his life. She gave the boy an encouraging smile. Even if she couldn’t have a child of her own, her drive to protect remained strong. The pain that had ebbed to a dulled ache over the years sharpened again.

“I’ll handle this.” She went down on her knees to be at his eye level. “Neetie, what you did was wrong. You should never take what isn’t yours.”

“But I wanted—”

“That doesn’t matter. Court paid for what you took but you’ll have to repay him by working it off. I want you to sweep out his bungalow and take out the trash until you have paid him back.”

The boy’s eyes remained large as he glanced up at Court but he nodded his agreement.

From above her Court said, “Another thing, I want you to be careful about grabbing Missy Maggie. You could’ve knocked her down. Hurt her. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you?”

Neetie gave an earnest negative shake of his head, but still looked terrified. Couldn’t Court tell he was scaring the boy? Where had the congenial guy gone who had been with her before Neetie had shown up?

“I’m sorry, Missy Maggie.”

She opened her arms and Neetie stepped into them. After giving him a tight hug, she stood and turned to Court. “Thanks for your help back there. I don’t know if I could have handled the situation without you.”

“I’ve no doubt you could have.” His look met hers. “Maybe I earned that meal after all.”

Court had been called in early the next morning to help with an emergency and had been assisting in surgery ever since. He’d had to hustle to get a bite of lunch before going back. He’d not seen Maggie all day. It bothered him not to know where she was and what she was doing. Calling it curiosity and unable to stand it any longer, he’d asked and been told it was her day off.

Bottom line, he missed her. A foreign concept for him. He never let someone interest him enough to miss them. That’s what most of his lady friends complained about—he never really cared. He couldn’t.

Shaking his head in an effort to remove the idea, Court returned to seeing patients and worked late into the afternoon. He was on his way back to the bungalow when he saw Neetie running up the path. Court couldn’t help but be captured by the bundle of energy the young boy presented with his arms flying and sticklike legs pumping. Neetie made him think of the childhood question, “Is that you or are you riding a chicken?”

He sobered. He’d asked Neetie on their return to the hospital from the village how old he was. Neetie had said eight. The age Court had been when his brother had died. The same age that made his heart catch when he cared for a patient. He’d become a pediatrician because of his brother and wanting to help others like him, but in many ways it had been difficult. Especially when his actions caused a child to be disabled. The burden of failure weighed on him like a sack of heavy rocks he never put down.

Neetie slid to a stop out of arm’s reach, and looked up at Court with uncertain eyes.

A stab of regret cut through Court. Had he intimidated the boy so much yesterday that he was afraid of him? Court had never meant the boy to fear him.

Neetie pointed down the path from the direction he’d come. “Missy Maggie, help.”

Court’s heart jerked in his chest and he went down on one knee, meeting the boy at eye level. “What’s wrong with Missy Maggie?” The amount of worry those words held surprised Court. When had Maggie started becoming significant enough for him to feel any anxiety over her?

“She in …” Neetie seem to search for the word. He said something in Mamprusi.

“Box?” Court translated.

Neetie gave a vigorous nod and pointed toward the back of the compound.

“A box? What box? Show me.”

Neetie scampered down the winding path, and Court followed him at a lope. They went past the bungalows, around a small group of trees and came to what looked like an outdoor storage area. Sitting on the ground were two large metal overseas shipping containers. Neetie pointed into the container with the huge doors flung open. Court looked inside the dark cavern and found the box partially full.

Squinting, he waited while his eyes adjusted from the bright light of the outside to the almost pitch dark inside. He could make out aqua fifty-five gallon plastic drums. They were stacked two high, the top of the second one well above his head. Some of the drums had fallen and were lying at odd angles.

Panic surged through him. Maggie could be seriously hurt. Court stepped into the container. “Maggie?”

“I’m back here.”

Relief washed over him, to be replaced by flaming anger. What if he hadn’t gotten here in time? What if she’d been too hurt to cry out for help? “Where?” His fear made the word sharp. With a tight chest he took a deep breath and let it out in the hope of slowing his pulse and holding off his irritation at her for being so reckless.

“Straight back.”

He turned to Neetie. “You stay here.” Court pointed to the ground outside the container, making sure his instructions were clear. Neetie nodded. Court refused to allow another person be injured because he’d failed them. He needed to know that the boy was safe.

With a grunt Court righted a fallen drum. It was heavier than he’d anticipated. What in the world was Maggie doing in here by herself? When he got to her he was tempted to put her over his knee like he would have a disobedient child for scaring him. He continued to move barrels to the side, creating a narrow aisle. “Are you hurt?”

An exasperated sigh came from a few feet in front of him. “Not really.”

What the hell did “Not really” mean? “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“No. Mostly it’s my pride that’s hurt.” Her voice became clearer as he worked his way closer. “I saw a drum marked ‘Bandages’ up on the top. I knew better than to climb up there and rock it but I did it anyway. I didn’t want to take the time to walk all the way to the hospital to get help.”

“Yeah, don’t do the smart thing. As always, handle it yourself,” Court mumbled, while he pushed at another drum with more force than necessary. She was the one everyone turned to for help at the hospital. Amazingly, she always gave it willingly.

“After the first one went they all started falling like dominos. One of the metal clips holding the top closed caught my clothes, and I went down with the barrels.”

Her chatter told him that she was more afraid than she’d first let on. Good, she should be. Maybe she’d learned a lesson. He’d reached the deepest part of the fifty-foot box that doubled as a furnace in the late-evening sun. Visibility was dismal at best but he could just make out the top of Maggie’s head. He uttered a curse under his breath when he thought of what could have happened. If he’d not seen Neetie …

Court righted the barrels and pushed them to the side, squeezing past them.

Maggie was trapped, half under a barrel. The fury he thought he had under control snapped. “Why’re you out here by yourself?” His words cut as sharply as a scalpel. “You should know better.”

With a glare, she said, “I do this all the time. It’s no big deal. I was doing it before you showed up, and I’ll be doing it when you’re gone,” she snapped.

She had him there. He had no business telling her what she should and shouldn’t do. But he still couldn’t get the gut-wrenching feeling of what could’ve happened to her out of his mind. He wiped away the sweat beading heavily on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It had to be over a hundred and ten. “How long have you been in here?”

“All together?”

“Yeah, all together.” The sarcasm snapped as bluntly as a dry twig. Yet his professional side kicked in. He needed to keep her talking until he could reach her, so she wouldn’t be afraid. She could be seriously injured and, if nothing else, she had to be dehydrated.

“I started working after lunch. A couple of the men were helping me but they got called away.”