looked up into clear blue eyes that made him think of the pool of water at the bottom of his favorite waterfall. The woman he’d just seen climbing off the truck waited. She’d removed her hat and now he could clearly see a long blonde braid falling over a shoulder. With her fair coloring she would burn in no time in the hot Honduran sun.
“Start with cutting away the clothing.”
She stepped to the table. The paper on the table was soaked with blood. He glanced up to see her face blanch as she viewed the man who would be disfigured for life from the deep lacerations.
“Don’t faint on me,” Chance said through clenched teeth. “Michael, get over here.” He nodded toward the other table. “Go help there. Michael and I’ll handle this.”
She moved off to see about the case Michael was working on. Chance didn’t have time to ponder why someone in the medical profession couldn’t handle this type of injury.
He and Michael worked to piece the Honduran man back together. It may have been the largest number of stitches he’d ever put into a person. There would be a long recovery time.
“We need some help here,” Michael called as he finished suturing an area.
The woman stepped to the table again.
Chance glared at her. “I thought I told you—”
She gave him a determined and unwavering look. “I’ve got this.” She turned to Michael. “What do you need?”
“Bandage this hand,” he said.
“I’ll take care of it.” The words were full of confidence as fingers tipped in hot pink picked up the saline and four-by-fours sitting on the table and began cleaning around the area.
Chance had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. That manicure wouldn’t last long here and there wouldn’t be another forthcoming either. He moved on to the next laceration. As he looked at the man’s arm Chance kept a watchful eye on the new staff member. With the efficiency of few he’d seen, she’d wrapped and secured the dressing and moved on the next spot.
At least she seemed to have recovered from whatever her earlier issue had been. He was used to temporary help, but he still wanted quality.
Many who came to help with the Traveling Clinic were filled with good intentions and the idealism of saving the world but didn’t have the skills or common sense required to work in such primitive settings. The clinic served the medical issues in the small villages outside of La Ceiba. Making it even more difficult was that the locals were often hesitant about asking for help.
A jaguar attack wasn’t the clinic’s normal kind of injury but they did see a number of severe wounds from accidents. He needed staff that could handle the unexpected and often gruesome. If Chance wasn’t such a sceptic he’d have given the new woman points for her recovery but he’d been doing this type of work for far too long. Had seen staff come and go.
He was familiar with people who left. His mother had done it when he’d been a child. He’d been seven when she’d just not been there. His father was a world-renowned surgeon and had been gone much of the time. With his mother’s absence Chance had starting acting out in an effort to keep his father’s attention, even to the point of stealing. That had got him sent to boarding school. Even in that restrictive environment Chance had pushed back.
In a stern voice the headmaster had said, “It’s time for you to decide if you’re going to amount to anything in your life. Right now I’d be surprised if you do.”
He was the one man in Chance’s life who had taken a real interest in a scared and angry boy. The grizzled and gruff headmaster had believed in him, had taken time to listen. Unlike his father. Chance had wanted to make the headmaster proud and had made a change after that conversation. He’d focused on his studies. Dedicated his life to helping others. But in the area of personal relationships he had failed miserably over and over to the point he had long ago given up. Those, apparently, he wasn’t capable of having.
Why were dark memories invading now? Maybe because the new woman reminded him so much of his ex-wife, Alissa, whose defection always made him think of his mother. Two females who had rejected him. He’d moved past all that long ago. His worry now was how to keep the clinic open. Pondering old history did nothing to help with the present problem.
He watched the new woman as he changed gloves. Her movements were confident now. Marco, a local man who served as clerk, translator, and gofer for the clinic, entered the tent with a distressed look on his face. He hurried to her and said in his heavily accented voice, “I know not where you are. Please not leave again without telling. Much danger here. Not get lost.”
She looked at him. “I’m sorry. I saw the emergency and thought I should come help.”
“It’s okay, Marco. I’ll explain. See to the other two,” Chance said to the short, sturdy man.
“Sí, Dr. Chance.” Marco nodded and hurried out of the clinic.
Chance gave her a pointed look. “Please don’t leave the clinic area until we’ve talked.”
Her chin went down and she nodded. “I understand. By the way, my name is Cox. Dr. Ellen Cox. Like Bond. James Bond.” She flashed him a grin.
She was a cheeky little thing. He wasn’t certain he appreciated that.
He finished up with the injured man and sent him off in a truck to the hospital in La Ceiba. He would check in on him when they got back to town. Chance cleaned up and moved on to his next patient, who was an older woman with an infected bug bite. It would be necessary to drain it.
Before starting the procedure, he stepped to the table next to his, where a five-year-old girl sat. Digging into his pants pocket, he pulled out a peppermint and handed the piece of candy to her. She removed the clear plastic cover and plopped it into her mouth, giving Chance a wide, toothy grin. He’d given a child a second of happiness. He just wished he could make more of a difference. What he did wasn’t enough.
As Chance returned to his patient, Ellen joined him.
Since she was so enthusiastic he’d let her see to the woman as he watched. “We’re going to need a suture kit, a box of four-by-fours and bandages. Supplies are in the van.” He gestured toward the beat-up vehicle that had been parked partially under the tent so that the back end was protected from the daily afternoon rain and could function as a portable storage room. Chance waited as she hurried after the supplies.
Returning to his side, she placed the kit on the bed and a bottle of saline water as well. “I’ll get a pan.” She was gone again.
Chance spoke to his patient in Spanish, reassuring her that she would be fine and that what he was going to do wouldn’t take too long. A few moments later Ellen was back with the pan and plastic gloves for herself.
He helped the older woman lay back on the table.
Ellen gave the patient a reassuring pat on the shoulder and then turned her attention to opening the suture kit, placing it where he could easily reach the contents. Taking the plastic gloves off the top, he pulled them on. She did the same with hers. Removing the blue sterile paper sheets, she placed them
