Out of the Shadows (7 page)

She turned her attention back to her hosts and watched Jean-Baptiste sign the credit-card receipt. “Thank you once more for dinner,” she said, trying to regain her earlier sincerity. It truly
had
been a wonderful evening. “It was lovely and much needed!”

Jean-Baptiste stood aside to allow Christine and Leslie to precede him as they exited the restaurant. “No, no!” he replied. “We want to thank you. Had you been unable to come...well, the outcome would have been different on many cases. We are grateful to have met a new colleague and friend.” They paused at the juncture between the entry to the restaurant and the lobby of the hotel, and he shook her hand, his face solemn once more.

“Excusez-moi.”
A voice interrupted from the doorway. Ben stepped hastily forward with his hand extended. “Jean-Baptiste, it is my pleasure to see you again.”

Jean-Baptiste allowed his surprise to show. He smiled and shook the offered hand. “Ben Murphy. It has been at least a year since we have seen you.”

“Oui!”
Ben replied, and turned to Christine. He took her hand, and she presented her cheeks, which he air-kissed three times.
“La belle Christine,”
he said with aplomb. A conversation ensued in rapid French, which Leslie tried to follow. She understood the gist: Jean-Baptiste and Christine appeared to be explaining the measles epidemic and its resolution. She watched as Ben nodded his head—he appeared genuinely interested and sympathetic. There was a pause, and Jean-Baptiste said something and then gestured toward Leslie. The three turned toward her.

Still smarting from Ben’s earlier snub, Leslie debated her response. Ben took the option from her when he held out his hand and said, “Yes, Mrs. Carpenter. It’s nice to see you again. I understand that you’ve been helping the DeMerodes work through a difficult situation.”

Leslie felt her face redden as she shook his hand. She quickly pulled her hand away and murmured, “I was glad that I was able to help.” She looked into his eyes for only a second, then diverted her gaze to stare at his chin. She knew her response had been abrupt, so she added, “The people of Nyeri are fortunate that Christine and Jean-Baptiste were there for their children.” Her smile felt awkward and forced.

“Do you two know each other?” Christine asked.

Ben did not wait for Leslie to reply. “Yes. I flew Mrs. Carpenter—er, Leslie—to Namanga when she first arrived, and a couple of times since then.”

“Oh. I see. Of course, that makes sense. I recall that you know Mama Joe well.” Christine sounded a little disappointed.

Another short discussion ensued in French before Ben took a short step back. “I fear that I must return to my colleagues.” He kissed Christine’s cheeks and shook Jean-Baptiste’s hand again. “It was nice to see you, Leslie,” he said. Although he didn’t touch her, his gaze found hers and held it. This time, something deep and unreadable flickered in his eyes. He seemed to be about to say something else; instead he blinked, then gave a slight nod and reentered the restaurant.

As she watched the departing man, Christine chuckled and said something quietly to Jean-Baptiste. She leaned over to Leslie and whispered, “His colleagues.” She grinned. “He seems to have a lot of friends with long hair.”

Jean-Baptiste responded with an exaggerated nod. Christine jabbed a teasing elbow in his abdomen and giggled. “The only thing I think he is more concerned with than his ‘friends’ is his work.” She turned her hand palm up and rubbed her thumb across her fingers in the universal sign for money. “He seems to be doing very well with it.”

“How do you two know Ben?” inquired Leslie, trying not to sound overly interested.

Christine paused to consider, then answered, “Well, the American and European communities are really quite small in Kenya. Most everyone knows everyone else, or we know someone who does.” She took Jean-Baptiste’s hand and started toward the hotel’s lobby. “Also, Ben is a very handy person to know. When we first moved here from the Congo two years ago, there was an outbreak similar to this one. Except then it was polio.” She shuddered in recollection. “Ben was able to help us. He worked very hard to obtain vaccines, supplies and other aid.”

“Yes,” interjected Jean-Baptiste. “If Ben had not come to our assistance then, the results of the epidemic would have been much worse.” He smiled at Leslie. “Many children would have died or been crippled had he not helped.”

Leslie was eager to learn more, but they had arrived at the hotel’s entrance. She waved when she saw Marcus parked nearby. Christine and Leslie hugged tearfully, and Jean-Baptiste took her hand and kissed her cheeks, thanking her once more. “Please call me again,” she said in parting. “I’ll be happy to come to work with you anytime.”

“The sentiment is mutual,” Jean-Baptiste replied. “Give Mama Joe our regards when she returns.”

* * *

L
ESLIE
HAD
DIFFICULTY
falling to sleep that night. She was comfortably settled in a lovely guest room at the East Africa Mission house, but her mind seemed to repeatedly return to the events of the evening rather than the hectic, trying and tiring days she’d spent fighting measles. She kept recalling the expression on Ben’s face in that brief second before he’d turned his back. Was it her imagination, or was it a look of yearning? She chided herself, thinking that more likely it was regret or embarrassment. But as she reflected on what she’d seen in his eyes, it seemed as if he were reaching out to her—like he wanted something from her.

She tried to brush those thoughts aside and focus on the coming day and her trip back to Namanga. She was mostly successful and, after a few minutes, fatigue took over and she fell into an exhausted sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

O
NE
AFTERNOON
,
near the end of her third month in Namanga, Leslie heard a vehicle pull into the compound. The sound was unusual, given that almost all of their patients walked—or ran—to the clinic. From the exam room where she was completing a follow-up visit with a new mother, she heard a man’s deep voice ask, “Where’s Mrs. Carpenter?”

Elizabeth was in her customary spot at the desk, and Leslie could hear an exchange in Swahili, but the distance prohibited comprehension. She refocused her attention on her patient, but an urgent knock interrupted her. Without waiting for a response, Elizabeth opened the door and said, “Miss Leslie, please come.”

Elizabeth’s expression alarmed Leslie. Apologizing to the new mother, she hastily followed the clerk into the waiting area, but stopped abruptly when she saw Ben Murphy. She hadn’t seen him since the encounter at the restaurant several weeks earlier and had forgotten how imposing he was. His eyes shone vividly in his deeply tanned face. She read impatience in his expression, along with something she had rarely observed in him—concern.

He closed the distance, obviously in a hurry, and grabbed her elbow to pull her toward the door. “You need to come with me. I have a client who may be having a heart attack.” His words were terse.

She stopped and tried to pull away. “Wait just a second. I need—”

He refused to let go of her. “Maybe you don’t understand,” he interrupted. “You need to come
now.
”

She yanked her arm again. “Let go. I have to get some things.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He finally released her and followed as she retreated into the storage room. “He’s a tourist.” His tone was more conciliatory. “Probably about sixty-five. Evidently he has some history of heart problems.”

His description compelled Leslie to hurry. She quickly collected a blood-pressure cuff and an assortment of medications and supplies, then stuffed them into a large canvas tote bag that she slung over her shoulder. Grabbing the portable defibrillator, she thrust it at Ben. “Here. I may need this.”

As they neared the door, Ben inquired, “If he has to be evacuated to Nairobi, can you come?”

Leslie hastily considered the possibility, and, frowning, she nodded. She paused at the door to give instructions to Naomi and Elizabeth. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If I haven’t returned by this evening, assume we’ve flown to Nairobi.”

Outside, she saw two men sitting in the back of Ben’s Jeep. They were similarly dressed in newish, pressed khaki shirts and slacks. The older man had thinning, iron-gray hair and appeared to be in his sixties as Ben had suggested. He was obviously ill, leaning heavily against the younger man. As she approached the Jeep at a rapid walk, the younger man’s eyes pinned her, and he barked, “Are you the doctor?”

Leslie barely glanced at him as she crawled into the back of the Jeep and wedged herself between the front and rear seats. “I’m a nurse-practitioner,” she answered absently, her attention on assessing the patient. She gently shook his shoulder. “Sir, can you open your eyes?”

The man complied and gave her a faint smile. His face was grayish in color, and he was sweating heavily. He looked to be about average height, but was at least thirty or forty pounds overweight. She rummaged through her canvas bag and pulled out the blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope. “How long have you been having chest pain?” she asked as she wrapped the cuff around the man’s arm.

“A little last night.” His voice seemed weak and his breathing shallow. “But it’s bothered me quite a lot today.”

She finished taking his blood pressure and then said to Ben, “Hand me that case.” When he did, she opened it and removed two pads. “Sir, I’m going to check your heart rhythm,” she explained as she started to unbutton the man’s shirt.

“Wait a minute!” snapped the younger man. “We want a doctor, not a nurse!” He reached out and grabbed her wrist.

His tone and inflection struck Leslie as haughty and she bristled. Impatiently, she shook him off. “Well, I’m what you’ve got right now. If you’ll help instead of getting in the way, perhaps we can get him to a doctor!”

Ben shouldered his way past the younger man and helped pull back the patient’s shirt. He said, “Look, Justin, Mrs. Carpenter is the only health-care provider within a seventy-mile radius. She has a lot of experience. I assure you, she can handle it.”

Both men watched as Leslie slapped one pad on the patient’s chest and the other on his left side before connecting wires directly into an opening in the unit. She activated the combination electrocardiogram and automated defibrillator and watched the screen for about a minute. She looked up at Ben and said, “We need to go.” Although her words were calm, her eyes communicated urgency.

Ben held her gaze briefly then nodded. Absurdly, she felt a wave of satisfaction at his declaration of confidence and quick response to her instructions. He actually meant what he’d said to the younger man and wasn’t merely trying to placate him. Then she shook off the feeling—why did she care what Ben Murphy thought?

Ben jumped into the driver’s seat, and the younger man moved to join him in the front. As they pulled out of the compound, Ben made belated introductions. “Leslie, this is Bill Cooper and his son, Justin. I picked them up earlier at Amboseli Preserve to fly to Kilimanjaro. But before we got to the airstrip, Bill complained of chest pain, and then he blacked out for a minute.” He was pushing the Jeep as quickly as possible down the dusty, rough road. “Bill and Justin, this is Leslie Carpenter.”

The older man opened his eyes, which were light brown and a little watery and red rimmed. “Nice to meet you, Leslie.” His voice wavered somewhat, and Leslie glanced at the heart monitor again.

“Mr. Cooper, do you have a history of heart disease?”

“Yes. I had a heart attack about five years ago—”

“My father has had a couple of heart attacks.” Justin interrupted his father, turning to face the occupants in the rear seat and watching Leslie’s actions like a hawk. “He had an angioplasty two years ago by the best cardiologist in Seattle. He stopped smoking and has been fine since.” His tone made it sound as if it was her fault that his father was having chest pain—and that she was little better than dust because she wasn’t a doctor. She took a deep breath and worked hard at holding her temper, electing to ignore him.

“Justin, I can give my own history.” Mr. Cooper waved his hand in the direction of his son, perhaps trying to calm him. “He’s right. I had an angioplasty with a stent. They told me I didn’t need surgery. Just stop smoking...lose weight...exercise more.” Despite his obvious discomfort, he managed a weak grin. “I stopped smoking.”

Leslie couldn’t help but like Bill Cooper. She patted his arm in a gesture of reassurance. “Have you taken any meds today?”

“Just my cholesterol pill.” He seemed to be short of breath. “I didn’t bring my nitro pills with me.... Stupid, I know...but I haven’t had any problems in two years.”

“Mr. Cooper, I can’t tell if you’re having a heart attack, but you’re obviously having angina, and your heart rhythm indicates some premature contractions.” Leslie took his blood pressure again and glanced at the monitor. “Are you allergic to any drugs?” He shook his head and closed his eyes. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out two small bottles. She handed him a tablet. “Here, chew this. It’s aspirin.” When he had finished chewing the pill, she handed him another. “Nitro. Under your tongue.” He nodded and obeyed.

Ben made good time, and when they arrived at the airfield Bill Cooper’s pulse had slowed to almost normal and his color had improved. Charles Endebbi met them at the hangar, and he and Ben began to prepare the Cessna.

Obviously impatient to be off, Justin Cooper left the confines of the Jeep to monitor the process, mostly staying out of the way. For the first time Leslie studied the younger man and noted that he was probably in his late thirties. He was of average height and solidly built, although not heavy like his father. He glanced anxiously back toward the Jeep. She climbed from the vehicle to try to reassure him. As she approached, Justin whipped around, and she got her first good look at him. His appearance was striking. His features were even and refined, and his dark hair, although thinning slightly, was nicely groomed.

“Mr. Cooper, your father should be fine,” she said. “His heart rate and rhythm and blood pressure have stabilized, and you’ll be in Nairobi in less than two hours. Ben can call ahead and have an ambulance meet you and drive him to a hospital.”

Justin Cooper’s light brown eyes flashed with intelligence and agitation. “You
are
coming with us, aren’t you?” It was as much a command as a question. His stare was intense.

“I really don’t think that will be necessary. As I said, his condition has stabilized.” She frowned. “I’m needed here, and I couldn’t get back tonight because the airfield isn’t lighted—”

“I don’t care! I’ll pay you to come with us. I’ll pay Murphy to fly you back tomorrow.” His attitude was unrelenting, and Leslie got the impression that he was used to getting his way.

She straightened her shoulders. “Look, Mr. Cooper, it’s not about getting paid. I don’t work for money. If I thought your father needed me, I’d come. But I have responsibilities here.” Plus, she thought, she would have to endure Ben’s company, something she’d successfully avoided for the better part of a month. She blinked at that random thought—was that part of her hesitation?

“Ms...er...Leslie, my father is a very important man. Insuring his well-being should be your primary responsibility.” As if to emphasize what he was saying, he placed both of his hands on her forearms and gave her a small shake.

Leslie didn’t respond well to being bullied and was growing increasingly irritated. She took a deep breath in an attempt to control her temper. “I need to go assess him again. We’ll talk more in a minute.” She pulled away and hastily returned to the Jeep.

* * *

B
EN
FURTIVELY
WATCHED
the exchange between Leslie and Justin Cooper. Both Coopers, as he’d been informed several times during their brief acquaintance, were prominent lawyers from Seattle. Their clothing appeared costly, and both wore expensive watches that were inappropriate for the African bush. Either they hadn’t read the guidebook warnings about the high rate of theft of such items, or they didn’t care. He shrugged. Obviously they were wealthy enough to set their own agenda and hire charter pilots.

For some reason he did not pause to examine, he was annoyed to witness what appeared to be an intense discussion between Leslie and Justin. Objectively, he knew the lawyer was good-looking, in a smarmy, refined kind of way. But he had an unmistakable air of superiority that grated on Ben. As he started to turn away, he saw Cooper grasp Leslie’s arms and hold her briefly. He was overcome by a wave of jealousy so powerful that he became light-headed. Without considering what he wanted to accomplish, he started toward them. He had taken a few steps in their direction when Leslie broke the contact and returned to the Jeep.

Ben stopped abruptly and rubbed his hands over his face.
What is wrong with you?
he chided himself.
Get your act together and get the man to Nairobi!
He managed to refocus his attention and, ignoring the others for the time being, he helped complete preparations.

At the Jeep, Leslie watched the heart monitor for a minute. The patient’s heart rate was down, but there were still some worrying irregularities. “Mr. Cooper, how are you feeling now?” she asked as she took his blood pressure.

“The pain is definitely better, and I don’t feel quite as nervous or nauseous.”

She turned as she heard someone approach. She expected Justin Cooper, but it was Ben.

“How’s he doing?”

“Better. His heart rate and blood pressure have improved, so he’s stable enough to travel.” She glanced from her patient to Ben, but when she saw the intensity in his green eyes, she blinked and looked away. “He definitely needs to get to a hospital as quickly as possible. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, not taking his eyes from her face. “Let’s go.”

“Uh...Ben, I’m not sure that it’s necessary for me...”

“You’re kidding, right?” His voice was incredulous. “Get in the plane. I’ll assist Mr. Cooper. You should ride in the rear seat with him.” He turned his back to her and leaned toward the patient.

“Wait just a minute!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him around. She dropped her voice. “Where am I going to stay? How will I get back?” She was startled to find that, standing this close, she was forced to lean back to meet his eyes. She did not recall his being that much taller than she was.

He looked down at her hand on his arm and sighed. “Look. There’s a Hilton a couple of blocks from the hospital. You can stay there.” His eyes rose to latch onto hers. “And don’t worry. I’ll bring you back first thing in the morning.”

Between Ben and Justin, it appeared that arguing was futile. Although she was confident that Mr. Cooper would make the trip with no further problems, Leslie conceded that it would be good for her to accompany him anyway—just in case. Reluctantly, she nodded and climbed into the plane.

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
, Bill Cooper was loaded into an ambulance and driven to Nairobi’s most modern hospital, the Aga Khan. Ben found a taxi, and the trio followed. At the hospital, Leslie accompanied her patient as he was evaluated by the staff, and soon he was whisked away to the coronary care unit, reportedly in stable condition.

Leslie shifted the large canvas bag from one shoulder to the other as she made her way back to the hospital lobby to find Ben. Her work was done and she suddenly realized that she was tired and very hungry. It was nearing dusk, and she had not eaten since breakfast. She hoped to persuade Ben to stop for dinner before going to the hotel.

“Leslie! Wait!” She turned to see Justin Cooper jogging toward her, skillfully dodging people in the crowded lobby.