The Doctor's Sleigh Bell Proposal

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 on her patient’s leg around and under the inflamed area.

Chance handed her the scalpel. She took it without question.

Michael called, “Chance, you got a second to look at this?”

“Go ahead. I can handle this,” Ellen said.

Chance hesitated then nodded. He liked to oversee the new staff for a week or so just to make sure they understood the locals and the type of work they were doing but she should be able to handle a simple case.

The patient’s eyes had grown wide when he’d left. Ellen moved to his side of the table and began speaking to her in a mix that was more English than Spanish. As she distracted the woman by having her pay attention to what she was saying instead of what she was doing, the woman calmed down to the point of smiling a few times.

Chance glanced Ellen’s way now and then to see how she was doing. By the time he returned the patient was bandaged and ready to leave. Ellen had done a good job.

Chance moved on to the next person waiting. She assisted him. They were just finishing when Marco returned with the two other new staff members. He introduced the man as Pete Ortiz and the woman as Karen Johnson, both nurses. Ellen moved off across the short aisle of tables to help Chance’s colleague, Michael Lange. Because Pete spoke fluent Spanish, Chance sent him to do triage and Karen stayed to help him.

Working in Honduras on and off for eight years had only made Chance see the needs here grow. There had been a time he’d thought he might really make a difference but the people needed real clinics, brick-and-mortar buildings with dedicated doctors, not just a few coming in and out every few weeks.

He loved this country—the weather, which he much preferred to the cold of the north, the coast. Scuba diving was one of his greatest day-off hobbies. Walking through a rain forest and being surprised by a waterfall was amazing. But most of all he liked the open, generous smiles of the people. In Honduras he had found home.

The Traveling Clinic had been his idea years ago and he’d worked long and hard to gain funding for the idea. The clinic was a successful concept but money was forever a problem. Again tomorrow the clinic would be stopping at a different village and the locals would line up. Some would wait all day for care. The day would start just as this one had. Never enough, and more left to do.

A couple of times during the afternoon hours the sound of laughter reached his ears. Michael and the new doctor seemed to enjoy working together. That was what he’d thought when his wife had spent so much time helping his clinic colleague, Jim. They had gotten along so well she’d returned to the States with him.

The sun was only touching the tops of the trees by the time Chance saw his last patient. Michael was finishing up with his as well. Now all that was left was to break down the clinic, load the trucks, and head for a hot shower. He leaned up against the nearest exam table, finishing a note on his patient’s chart.

“Doctor, if you’ll excuse me, I need to fold this exam table.” Ellen gave him a pointed look as she flipped her hair back, implying he needed to move.

She reminded him of a teenager, looked no older than a fresh-out-of-high-school girl, even though she must be at least twenty-eight to his tired forty-one-year-old eyes. Breaking down the clinic was the job of Marco and the local men he’d hired to help him. As much as Chance was amazed by her zeal, she needed to understand a few things about the culture and dangers here. “Marco and his men will take care of that.”

“I can get—”

He lowered his voice. “I’m sure you can but they take their jobs and positions seriously. I don’t want them to feel insulted.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize.” She stopped what she was doing.

“Now you do. You need to tread more carefully, Dr. Cox. There are cultural and safety issues you should be aware of before you go off willy-nilly. Don’t be reckless. This isn’t Los Angeles, New York or wherever you are from.”

A flash of something in her eyes he couldn’t put a name to came and went before she said, “New York.”

He looked at her a second. “There’re not only animals in the jungle that could hurt you, as you saw today, but there’s a major issue with drug traders. Neither play around or allow second chances. You should never go out alone. Even in the villages or clinic compound, always have someone with you.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

Did she think this was some exotic vacation spot? “No, I’m trying to keep you out of harm’s way.” He looked straight at her. “If you don’t follow the rules, you don’t stay around here long.”

Her lips tightened as she glanced toward the men working to break down the clinic. “I’m sorry I upset Marco. I saw the number of people waiting and thought I should get to work.”

“You would be no good to them if you get hurt.”

“Your point is taken.”

“Chance,” Michael called.

“Just remember what I said.” He walked away to join Michael beside the supply van.

Half an hour later the tent was down and everything stowed in the vehicles. Now their party was bumping along the narrow dirt road toward the coast. Chance rode in the supply van, with one of the locals driving, while Michael was a passenger in the truck. The others rode in the rear of it. The hour-long trip to the resort might be the toughest part of the day. As the bird flew, the distance wasn’t far; however, the roads were so rough and winding it seemed to take forever to make the return drive. Chance usually tried to sleep.

For some reason his thoughts went to the young doctor traveling in the truck behind him. She’d worked hard, doing her share and some more. There was no way she was napping while sitting on that hard metal bench. If she complained, he would point out that the ride was just part of doing this type of medical work. Anyone who stayed with it learned to accept the hardship.

* * *

Ellen’s head bumped against one of the support frames running around the bed of the truck. Taking a nap was almost impossible. She pulled a jacket out of her duffel bag and folded it up then stuffed it between her head and the unforgiving metal.

Looking out through the slats, she watched the fascinating countryside go by. The vegetation grew rich and huge. Some of the leaves were the size of an umbrella. And so green. It looked impossible to walk through. She’d never seen anything like it. The flowers were such vivid colors. A pink hibiscus always caught her attention.

As the plane had been coming in that morning she’d looked down on the coastline of the county. The pristine white sand against the blue-green of the water had made her want to experience it for herself. It was a beautiful country. She already loved it.

Completely different from New York, the city of buildings and lights. She’d worked at an inner-city clinic that saw pregnant teenagers and babies with colds. It was nothing compared to the type of patients and conditions she’d experienced today. It had been exhilarating. Except for that one moment when she’d looked at that man and all the memories of her mother caught in the car had come flooding back.

The Traveling Clinic cared for people who truly needed it. These people had no other way of getting medical care. They hadn’t made poor life choices like the drug addicts and drunks in the city. Here they had nothing, and the clinic offered them something they desperately needed. And they still had a bright smile to share.

The type of work she’d done today was why she’d become a doctor. As a child, a car accident had killed her mother and had left Ellen in the hospital for weeks. There she’d learned the importance of good medical care. The staff had loved and given special attention to the little girl who had lost so much. Ellen had determined then that she wanted to work in the medical field, do for people what had been done for her.

The only sticking point had been her father. As a Manhattan socialite and the only child of an overprotective father, she’d worked at being taken seriously when she’d announced she was going to medical school. Ellen desired to do more than chair committees and plan fancy fund-raisers. She’d wanted to personally make a difference, get to know the people she was helping.

When Ellen had started practicing at the inner-city clinic her father had pitched a fit, saying it was too risky and he didn’t want her to work there.

“You’re acting like your mother. She went in head first and then thought,” he’d said more than once to her as she’d been growing up.

Ellen had told him he had no choice. A number of times she’d noticed a man hanging around when she’d come and gone from the clinic. Some days later she’d found out he had been hired by her father to watch over her because he’d been concerned about her safety.

A few weeks later she’d heard Dr. Freeman speak with such passion about his work in Honduras that she had been hooked. She wanted to make that kind of difference, offer that kind of care. The next day she’d applied to join his staff. It had taken her six months but she was finally here.

After her decision to come to Honduras, she’d thought of not telling her father but she loved him too much to just disappear. Instead, she’d told him she was going to Honduras but not specifically where she would be, fearing he’d send someone to watch over her. Again he’d accused her of not thinking it through. She’d assured him she had. For once she wanted to do something on her own, free from her father’s influence.

Her head bounced again. The picture of Dr. Freeman’s displeased look when she’d frozen came to mind. Her lips formed a wry smile. Later she had seen a small measure of respect in his eyes.

The wheels squealed to a painful halt. Ellen looked out the end of the truck to see a gorgeously groomed area. Where were they? The others filed off the vehicle and she brought up the rear. With her feet on the ground, she looked around. It appeared as if they were in the back parking lot of a resort.

A couple of Honduran helpers pulled her bag, along with Pete’s and Karen’s, down from the truck. She hadn’t met her fellow staff members until the time had come to board the flight to Honduras. Pete was a nice guy who was looking for a change after a bad marriage and Karen was a middle-aged woman who thought working with the clinic would be a nice way to see a new country. Ellen had liked them both immediately.

Their group was joined by the two doctors. She’d enjoyed working with Michael Lange. He seemed fun and laid back. The same couldn’t be said about Dr. Freeman. From what she could tell, he was an excellent doctor. Everything she’d heard about him had been glowing. But on the Mr. Congeniality scale he was pretty low. He could work on his warm welcomes. He hadn’t even taken the time to offer his name.