From the Beginning. Tracy Wolff
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before you came back here. Is it any wonder that you’re burned out? You need to get away from here for a while and remember that there’s more to life than suffering.”
“I can’t.” She stood and walked over to the crude window near his desk. “We’re understaffed as it is.”
“We’ll manage. We always do.”
“I’m overtired. A couple of nights’ sleep and I’ll be fine.”
His smile was sad. “Not this time. You need to step back for a while, go home, live a normal life for at least a year.”
“A year?” She whirled to face him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious. You’re the best doctor I’ve got, one of the best I’ve ever worked with, but even you can’t keep going at this pace indefinitely. You’re strung out, stressed-out and you’re going to make yourself sick.”
He paused, stared at her for a long minute as if debating with himself. Finally he quietly commented, “You can’t hide from what happened to Gabrielle, Amanda. And you can’t bring her back.”
The words hit her like an out-of-control freight train, had her fists clenching and her blood pounding even as they flattened her completely. “You think I don’t know that?” she demanded, unable to look at him. “You think I don’t wake up every morning, wishing that my daughter was alive?”
“I think you do.” His tone was compassionate, his voice matter-of-fact. “Which is part of the problem. It’s been a year and a half, and you haven’t even begun to deal with what happened.”
“I deal with it every day.”
“No, you hide from it every day. Here, and in Uganda. In Mozambique. You’ve been running from the truth since the funeral, and all it’s gotten you is one step away from a nervous breakdown.”
“Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?” She sounded like a sulky four-year-old, but couldn’t help herself. If he kept pushing, the emptiness yawning inside of her would completely overwhelm her.
“It is.” He sighed, then reached out to cover her hand with his. “I know what I’m asking of you, Amanda.”
Her laugh was bitter. “You couldn’t possibly know, Jack. If you did, you wouldn’t have the nerve to ask.”
He squeezed her hand, letting the silence build until her eyes—once again—met his. “You can’t save her. No matter how many children you help, no matter how much you punish yourself, you still can’t bring her back.”
“It’s my job to save these children.” She yanked her hand away, then ran it carelessly through her short, dark hair. Her fingers snagged in one of the many curls, but she barely felt the pain. These days, she rarely allowed herself to feel anything at all. “They became my responsibility the day I signed up to come here.”
“I know.” His voice was soothing.
“This has nothing to do with Gabrielle,” she insisted. But her voice broke and Amanda rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes as the tears began to flow. “It’s about there never being enough. Enough food, enough medicine, enough doctors. Enough time. Nowhere on this whole damned continent is there enough of anything.”
She gave a watery, sarcastic laugh, then corrected herself. “Except the bad stuff. There’s plenty of that. Corruption. Famine, drought, poverty.”
Glancing out the screened-in window, she watched a trio of vultures circle above the camp, impatient to get their claws into Mabulu’s frail, bloated body. She wouldn’t let that happen.
“And death. There’s always enough death.” Her voice cracked, and the sobs she’d been trying to hold in for months finally broke free.
“Oh, Mandy.” Jack sighed, then pulled her into his oversize embrace. “That’s it, honey. Have a good cry.”
She tried to stop the meltdown—she really did—but she was too exhausted, and her emotions overcame her iron will. A small part of her stood back, untouched, watching in horror as her professional demeanor crumbled like clay left too long in the vicious African sun.
This wasn’t what they’d taught her in medical school. This wasn’t who she was. The Amanda Jacobs she knew was cool, professional, in control at all times. That Amanda Jacobs had graduated top of her class at twenty-four, had worked eleven years in the world’s battle zones with barely a grimace. She’d sat by her daughter’s bedside, dry-eyed and composed, doing everything she could to comfort Gabrielle as she suffered a slow and painful death from cancer.
That Amanda hadn’t shed so much as one tear at the funeral.
Where was that woman now? she wondered hysterically. She wanted her back. Living like this, her emotions an open, aching wound, was too hard.
Jack continued to rub her back soothingly as she sought to pull herself together. It took a few minutes, but when she’d finally managed it, he drew back and asked quietly, “Do you feel any better?”
Was he kidding? Her head throbbed, her eyes burned and her mouth felt as if something had crawled inside it and died. How could she possibly be feeling better when she’d never felt worse? But she nodded as she reached across his desk for a tissue. There was only so much humiliation a woman could stand in one day.
He watched silently as she wiped her face and blew her nose, struggling for the composure that was still a little out of reach. Finally he said, “You know I’m right. If one of your patients came in like this, you’d tell her the same things I’m telling you.”
“I can’t, Jack.”
“You mean, you won’t. But this time, you don’t have a choice. I run this place and I say you go.”
She studied him with narrowed eyes for a minute, then shrugged even as unease crawled up her spine. “There are other clinics.”
“And you won’t get a job at any of them. Not with this organization or any other.”
“You can’t do that!”
“You’d be surprised what I can do.” He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “You’re on the edge, Amanda. No reputable clinic will take on a doctor who is so obviously going to blow. And I won’t give you a recommendation—not right now.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I care about you.” He ignored her snort of derision. “Because you’ve been here too long.”
She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him accusingly. “You’ve been here as long as I have.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But I know when to draw the line—for myself and others. You don’t. You never have. It’s what makes you such an incredible doctor, but it’s also what brought you to this point. You’re used up, Mandy.”
The hell of it was that he was right. She knew it, had recognized the signs for a while now but had ignored them. Because to admit to them meant she’d have to go home. She’d have to face what she’d been running from since Gabrielle’s pediatrician had delivered her death sentence.
She didn’t know if she was strong enough to do it.
“Do I have a choice, Dr. Alexander?” Her voice was stilted, her hands ice-cold.
“Mandy.” He sighed. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
She eyed him steadily. “Oh, I think it does.”
He stared at her for long moments, before shaking his head sadly. “Then no, you don’t have a choice. The supply truck comes in four days. You can ride back to town with Josh and catch a flight from there.”
CHAPTER TWO
“FOUR