THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT... (20 page)

But then everything changed.

Then she was faced with a baby.

A really sick baby.

Even before she touched him she could tell instantly how unwell he was.

And she did the worst thing possible. She hesitated.

A horrible sense of dread was sweeping over her. If she could run outside and be sick right now she would. Her mouth felt as dry as a stick as she approached the woman clutching the tiny bundle in her arms.

The words almost stuck in the throat. How awful. How ridiculous. This was exactly why she’d come here. There was no way she could let her nerves get the better of her now.

But this was harder than she’d thought.

This was the first time she’d been in contact with a real, live sick child since her daughter had died.

Her arms trembled as she held them out. “Can I see him, please?”

The mother nodded, burst into tears and handed him over.

Violet held the little bundle in her arms. Aware of the sensations sweeping over her and trying to push them all aside. Trying to keep her “doctor head” in focus. He was seriously underweight, his skin wrinkled with no fatty tissue underneath. According to his mother, after a bout of diarrhea he hadn’t been able to eat anything in the last week. It was clear he was severely dehydrated.

Back home a child like this would be rushed into Pediatric Intensive Care, with a central line inserted and IV fluids delivered in a systematic manner to stop overload leading to organ failure. Here, Violet had none of those facilities.

She sat quietly, gently rocking the little boy backward and forward in her arms. Taking a few moments just to gather her thoughts. His eyes were too glazed to focus properly—a clear sign of his ill health.

She spoke quietly to Olabisi. “Do we have any oral rehydration salt sachets?”

Olabisi shook her head. “We go through them so quickly. The Global Children’s Support Organization supply us regularly but we’re not due another delivery for a couple of days.”

Violet nodded. This little boy didn’t have a couple of days. He might only have a few hours. She lifted her head. “Could you go and find my case please? Open it up, you’ll find some sachets near the back. Bring them to me.”

Olabisi bobbed her head and left the room quickly. The sense of dread was leaving Violet. This was a baby who needed comfort. Something else was sweeping over her now.

She felt her lips turn upward and she did the most natural thing in the world to her. Violet started to sing. This little boy needed more than comfort. He needed all the medical care in the world. Children died every day from gastroenteritis and diarrhea, all because of a lack of clean water, sugar and salts. What a difference a little medicine could make. A few sachets could put this little boy on the road to recovery again.

Back in the U.S. some doctors would have given specific instructions to parents to make a suitable solution themselves. But it was a dangerous balance. Too much sugar or salt could upset the child’s system. And out here it was wiser to use the ready-prepared solutions.

Violet watched his dark brown eyes while she continued to sing. It would be helpful if there were some antibiotics available too. She’d need to check with Evan if they had their own supplies and could dispense them.

Olabisi gave a shout and the mother stepped outside the room. Violet already knew that Olabisi would be explaining how to use the medicine. The young woman’s knowledge and expertise were impressive.

She was left alone with the baby.

For a second it scared her. This was a really sick little baby. But she was a doctor, she should be used to sick kids.

Only right now she didn’t feel like a doctor.

Right now she felt like a mother.

A mother whose heart had been wrenched out.

Her little girl hadn’t felt like this. A little bundle of bones.

Her baby had been tiny, well formed and perfect.

Except for the fact she hadn’t been breathing.

Violet had been building herself up to this, knowing that at some point she would hold a living, breathing baby in her arms and it would bring back a whole host of bad memories.

But this was different.

And it didn’t make her feel the way she’d thought it would.

She didn’t want to weep and wail about her own loss. About the lack of rhyme or reason to her perfect daughter being stillborn.

She wanted to weep and wail for
this
baby. For this little boy. For the fact that a few hours of simple medicine could make the difference between life and death for him.

For the fact she
could
do something for this little boy when she hadn’t been able to do anything for her own daughter.

And she knew it. She knew it straight away.

She had made the right decision coming here. Evan or no Evan.

Why had she waited so long to do this? Maybe she should have done this straight away, not waited three years until she felt as if her heart had healed.

Maybe if she’d done this sooner she could have moved on with her life, rather than hiding away at a desk job in the DPA.

That first instant, before she’d held him, had been the worst. That had been the moment when she’d thought she would rather do anything else in the world than this. But everyone had experiences like this. The first time doing anything was always the toughest. But always the most worthwhile because it set the scene for what came next.

She cradled the little bundle in her arms. Olabisi arrived a few minutes later with the mother clutching a bottle of the electrolyte mixture, and Violet handed him over with a few extra words.

And then she sat in the fading light in the medical center, watching the mother feeding her child. Knowing that every weak suck and mouthful gave this child another chance at life.

Grateful that someone had a chance to save their child—even if it wasn’t her.

* * *

Evan stood in the dying light, watching Violet with the baby in her arms. The handover from Dr. Yusif had taken much longer than expected and he’d gone to the accommodation, expecting to find Violet there.

Instead, he found Olabisi rummaging through Violet’s lime-green case for some rehydration sachets. She’d quickly explained what she was doing and he’d followed her back to the clinic, waiting outside while she demonstrated to the mother how to use them.

He was feeling overwhelmed. It wasn’t that he felt incapable. He was more than capable of doing this job.

It was just that it was so different from what he’d been used to. He hadn’t even really had time to get his head around the fact he was coming to work in Africa for three months before their plane had touched the ground.

This time last week he’d been in the director’s office, thinking he was kissing his job and Violet goodbye. This time last week he’d gone to a bar for a drink on the way home, trying to sort out in his head how he could be in Violet’s company for the next three months. By the time he’d reached his apartment he had been sure he could keep this entirely professional. It had only taken him a few phone calls to sort out the arrangements for his apartment. No family, no girlfriend to placate, no pets to rehouse. It was kind of sad really, and made him realize how alone he was.

Would anyone miss him while he was gone? His group of male friends had disintegrated in the past few years. Some had moved away as their careers had progressed or splintered in other directions, others had settled down and had families of their own. In the end he’d only had to call a few to let them know he would be gone for a few months and ask them to keep an eye on his place.

So now there was just him and Violet on the outskirts of three local government areas in Nigeria for the next three months.

The “entirely professional” part had worked until he’d seen her at the airport, with her crumpled white shirt, floral skirt and bare legs. From there on out he’d been fighting a losing battle.

Violet was clearly off-limits. If she’d been interested she would have let him know months ago, after their kiss.

But clearly she wasn’t.

And since he was obviously on the director’s radar, the last thing he needed was to pay undue attention to another member of staff. Nothing like signing your own death warrant.

So why did watching Violet singing to a sick baby in the dark send a whole host of weird sensations creeping down his spine?

Was it the way she was looking at the baby? The way she seemed to want to soothe it? The gentle way she stroked the side of his face?

Or was it the fact she was so at ease, so comfortable in this strange environment? An environment in which he’d just spent the past few hours wondering how he could keep her safe?

He pressed back against the wall. The heat had dissipated a little now. Would it be cool enough to sleep?

Who was he kidding?

Sleep? With Violet Connelly and her sweet lullabies in the room next door?

Not a chance.

CHAPTER FOUR

“D
O
 
YOU
 
FEEL
up to this?”

The sun had barely risen above the horizon and breakfast was still settling in her stomach at this unearthly hour.

“Of course I am. It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” She didn’t mean to sound tetchy but she couldn’t help it.

Evan’s eyebrows rose slightly and he handed her one of the GPS transmitters. He sighed. “I still can’t believe we can get equipment like this to work out here and some families don’t have access to running water. It seems almost absurd.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m having trouble making sense of things here. I had another two children at the clinic yesterday affected by polio and their mothers still refused to get their younger siblings immunized. It didn’t matter what I said to them.”

Evan finished stowing the rest of the vaccines in the carriers. “They were from the village we’re going to this morning?”

Violet nodded. “Olibasi claims most of the children in that village aren’t immunized against polio. It’s swept through the village twice already. Some of the older adults are virtually paralyzed, but they still won’t immunize their children.”

His hand came over and rested on her forearm. She tried to ignore the warm sensation that trickled up her arm. “Dr. Yusif left me some notes on that village. They were part of a previous testing trial for another drug for meningitis. Eleven of the children died and many others suffered injuries. Some are blind, some deaf, some kids have brain damage and some liver damage. Is it any wonder the villagers are suspicious? If you were a parent in that village, wouldn’t you refuse any other drug offered by strangers?”

Violet felt a tightness spreading across her chest. He’d asked her how she’d feel if she were a parent.

He couldn’t possibly know how those words went straight to her heart.

She would have done anything possible to save her child. No matter what that meant. Putting herself into the shoes of these villagers wasn’t as difficult for her as Evan might think. Would she have allowed her daughter to be vaccinated by something that might have caused harm?

Absolutely not. Not question about it.

She could almost hear the fear from the villagers. Understand their protectiveness toward their children.

Evan was watching her closely. Waiting to see what her reaction would be.

“I think I would refuse anything that I thought would cause harm to my child.” She turned her face away and started searching through her bags, anything to take her away from his close scrutiny. “Here, this is the pictorial flipbook that Olibasi has been using. It’s got pictures and health information on health hygiene and sanitation on caring for a baby, as well as information on polio. Gentle persuasion might be the route we have to take, instead of going in with all guns blazing.”

Evan smiled at her. The early-morning sun was sending warm orange tones sweeping across the pale earth surrounding them. Why did it make him seem almost...inviting? The midday heat had proved too oppressive for them to work in this last week, so they’d decided to make an early start the norm. But making an early start meant sharing beautiful sunrises with a totally unsuitable man.

Evan had been wrong six months ago and he was still wrong now.

She sucked in a little air.
One step at a time
.

She wasn’t ready to consider a relationship of any sort right now—particularly with a man who’d had suspicions about her brother, no matter how good he looked at this time in the morning.

So why did she sometimes feel as if he was sensing the same electricity as she was? The same strange pull?

Was it all in her head? Was the pull just a figment of her imagination? Because in moments like this it felt very real.

His voice cut through her thoughts. “Olibasi is quite an ambassador, isn’t she? I’m impressed.”

She
was
imagining it. His train of thought was heading in an entirely different direction from hers.

Violet tried to keep the sadness from her tone. “She’s fabulous. At another time, in another place she could probably have a whole different career. It’s hard to believe she’s only had four years of formal education—it’s the same for most women her age. Most of what she’s learned has been self-taught.”

“Want to secretly train her to be a doctor or a nurse?”

Violet sighed. “I wish I could. I just think of the opportunities I had back home. All because I had a good education. It just seems so unfair that most young girls don’t have much formal education.” She gestured toward the book. “It’s why this works so well. It’s difficult to judge someone’s level of literacy. And if someone can’t read well there’s no point in giving them leaflets.”

Evan loaded their final supplies into the truck. “From what I’ve heard, radio is the most popular media in Nigeria. It’s ideal for getting the message out to communities, particularly if people are less able to read.”

“I’ve noticed it playing while we’ve been in the villages. It’s like a constant backdrop. Aren’t they doing the national campaign for polio via radio?”

He nodded and opened the front door of the truck. “Life expectancy around here is forty-seven years. Thirty percent below the world average. In the U.S. it’s seventy-eight. Doesn’t it make you feel as if there’s a really good reason to be here? To do the work that we’re doing?” His eyes looked off into the distance for a second then he jumped up into the truck. “Are you ready? We’re picking Olibasi up
en route
.”

For a second she was mesmerized by the look on his face. Slowly but surely this man was getting under her skin. It didn’t matter what the history was with her brother. It didn’t matter that they’d shared a kiss. Evan Hunter was essentially a good man. And it was something that she occasionally forgot in among all her mixed-up feelings about him. Maybe it was time to just focus on that?

He leaned over as she stood at the side of the truck and flicked the switch on her mobile emitter, which was attached to her waistband. The movement was so quick, so unexpected that his warm fingers touching her flesh made her jump.

“Oops, sorry.” He pulled his hand back. “We need to keep these switched on. The software has been specially designed to track the daily progress of vaccinators, uploading their routes to the server. It generates maps showing which areas have been covered and highlighting areas of risk.”

She slid into the truck next to him, trying to ignore the sensations creeping over her skin. “Like I said, I can’t believe that GPS and smartphones work and the water supplies don’t.”

He started the engine and they set off down the gravel track. “Let’s just try and do the best in the situation that we’re in. We’ll be there in around an hour.”

He had his mirrored sunglasses on and a white shirt with the top few buttons unfastened. She could see several light brown hairs curling through the opening.

Nope. It wasn’t helping. Even in profile he still looked like a movie star. This was going to be a long day.

The “good man” thoughts were being wiped out in her brain.

Work. She had to focus on work. “How did things go yesterday?”

“It was good. There was a volunteer community mobilizer network targeting caregivers who refused vaccination and children who’d been missed. It was a shame really, lots of kids had missed vaccinations just because they’d been in playgrounds, out in the fields or visiting friends the last time the team was there. They visited eighty households yesterday and immunized one hundred and ninety-three children. Essentially all these children need to be vaccinated four times to be fully protected.”

“Wow.” Violet leaned back against the burst upholstery. She gave Evan a sidelong smile. “Think we’ll match that target today?”

“If only...” His voice sounded wistful. “I’ve got to just look at the big picture. They tell us if we can get at least one dose of vaccine into the kids who’ve not been vaccinated, it should give fifty percent of the recipients immunity to the three types of polio. That’s got to be worth the trip.” He pulled over at the side of the road to let Olibasi join them.

“Violet! You wore the clothes!” She smiled as she jumped in next to them.

Violet shifted in her seat and tugged at the bright pink loose clothing. The longer she was here, the more she realized how unsuitable her normal clothing was. All her white T-shirts were covered in dust, as were her khaki trousers and long skirts. She seemed to trail dust wherever she went. Water was a precious commodity and washing machines weren’t exactly available.

Olibasi had arrived with a bag for her the other day containing some more traditional and practical clothing.
Buba
loose-style shirts and
iro
wrap-around skirts. She’d hinted that it might be useful if Violet tried some of the more traditional dress while they were visiting the village today. And even though she wasn’t used to the bright colors, already she felt more comfortable.

But the loose clothing still hadn’t stopped Evan from touching the bare skin at her waist when he’d flicked the switch on the transmitter. Maybe she should try wearing one of the NASA-style spacesuits they wore in the infectious disease labs at the DPA? It might be the only thing to stop the sensations currently zipping through her skin.

Evan leaned over and switched on the radio. “Relax, ladies. If the road ahead is clear, we’ll be there in under an hour.”

Evan was trying his best not to stare at Violet’s new clothes. Whilst they were much looser than the clothing she normally wore, the vibrant colors suited her and brightened up her skin tone. In a way it was sexier than her usual khaki trousers and white shirt approach—even though it hid the curve of her hips and breasts.

His hands gripped the wheel tighter.
Where had that come from?

Why was it that every time he thought he’d managed to shoehorn Violet back into the “colleague only” category, his brain liked to throw a wrench into the works? It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough work today. He could spend every waking hour planning and organizing their schedules for vaccinations over the next three months.

But every now and then, with one little random glance at Violet, an errant thought would enter his head and he would find that she was first and foremost in his brain.

It was beyond frustrating. Nothing was happening here.

Because Violet seemed oblivious. Sure, sometimes she reacted to his touch but most of the time it didn’t seem in a good way.

Most of the time she was totally focused on her work—just like he should be.

Except he couldn’t. Not while he was around her.

He still couldn’t get over Violet’s connection to Sawyer. And it smarted that she’d kept it quiet. What other secrets was Violet keeping?

The director had been wrong. They weren’t learning to work together as a team out here. They were learning to tiptoe around each other as if they were in some skillful dance. Trying to avoid being alone together. Trying to avoid an accidental brush of arms or legs.

Trying to avoid the fleeting eye contact that seemed to stop them both dead and make them oblivious to their surroundings.

So, no, nothing was happening here. Not at all.

Evan focused on the road ahead. Two months, three weeks. That’s how much longer he had to last.

No time at all.

* * *

“Evan, are you okay in there?”

Violet rattled the wooden door to the makeshift toilet. They’d been working in the villages for hours, but on the way back the truck had got a flat. Evan had changed the bigger-than-average tire, but not before the jack had moved, causing the truck to split the skin on his forearm. “Can I do anything to help you?”

She opened the door just an inch, catching sight of his bare flesh and pulling back just a little. But her curiosity got the better of her. His dust-ridden white shirt lay in a heap on the floor, some blood staining the sleeve.

She edged her head back a little, running her eyes over his wide muscular back. Yup. If he was movie-star material in profile, he was definite movie-star material bare-chested. All defined muscle with not an ounce of fat. It automatically made her suck in her stomach. And made her skin tingle when she realized she’d actually shared a bed with this body.

Was Evan a surfer? Because that’s what the defined tone and lines of his body told her. He had a curved scar on his shoulder blade. Flat and well healed. It had obviously been there for years. Where had he got that?

“Seen enough?” The grumpy voice made her jump and she felt her cheeks flush a little at being caught staring.

She straightened her shoulders. “I came to see if I could give you a hand. Do you need stitches? Can I clean your wound for you?” He still hadn’t turned around and she was feeling bolder. “Here, let me have a look.”

He’d spent the past twenty minutes driving with a blood-soaked rag wrapped around his arm. There was no telling how much dust and grit must be in the wound, and she wanted to inspect it.

There was only a faint trickle of water at the sink. Preservation of water was a must in the village, with their only supply coming from a special tank. Violet screwed up her face when she caught sight of the wound. It was longer and deeper than she’d expected. She caught his wrist in her hands as she leaned forward, trying to ignore the fact his bare chest was only inches away from her. Trying to stop herself from looking.

“I’m sure there’s some iodine in the store. I’ll go and get some.”

He tutted. “Don’t fuss, Violet.”

She peered at the wound, which was still dotted with little specks of grit. “If I stitch it like this you’ll end up with an infection.”

“You won’t need to stitch it.”

“Excuse me?” She lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m the doctor and you’re the patient. And just so we’re clear—I’ll be stitching your wound.”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” There was something different. A different inflection in his voice, a different tone. More humor. A little teasing even.

Her eyes met his.