New York Doc, Thailand Proposal / The Surgeon's Baby Bombshell. Dianne Drake
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Chauncy?”
Arlo chuckled. “You’ll meet him soon enough. And probably get to sleep with him as well.”
She didn’t know what this was about, but his eyes were sparkling with laughter the way she remembered. It was nice seeing that again. Nice being part of it.
“No door?” she asked, as he pulled back the mosquito netting on his hut to let her in.
“Not yet. It’s on the list of things I want, but the hospital gets the little funding we raise, not me, so it’s not a priority.”
A quick look revealed a small area where he prepared food, a desk off in one corner, a couple of rough-hewn chairs and a thin curtain separating a small area at the back from the rest of what was, essentially, a one-room hut. It was clear, and as basic a space as she’d ever seen, and she could picture Arlo living here. He’d always been a man of simple needs—something she’d admired about him. “Sono facilities?”
“Over at the hospital. Once you get used to it, it’s not so bad.”
“Bad, as in?”
“Adequate. A hose through a window that brings water from a tank outside and takes a while to prime and get running. Or you can heat a bucket of water on the stove over there if you prefer a warm bath.” He smiled. “I’ve lived in much more primitive digs than this so, to me, this is all good.”
“Primitive for me was that weekend you took me to a cabin in the Catskills. Remember that?”
“It had indoor plumbing,” he said defensively, smiling.
“And I had to carry in wood to the fireplace. In my life, a fireplace is turned on with a little knob off to the side. One little flick, gas turns on and, voilà, a fire.” That had been a nice holiday, though. A wonderful holiday. No trappings like her parents required. Just simplicity and—the two of them. Snow outside, safe and warm with Arlo inside. Feeling protected by him. Drinking hot chocolate. Playing chess for hours on end. Making love for even more hours. Watching, through the plate-glass window, the snow coming down outside and being glad she was in Arlo’s arms, inside. Perfect.
He chuckled. “I always did say you were a wimp.”
“So, where’s the switch to turn on your lights?” she asked, looking around for it.
“I have a generator, but fuel to run it’s pretty expensive and hard to come by out here, so most of the time I light the place with a kerosene lamp. And candles. One of the women here makes candles for me.”
While Ollie had tried to prepare Layla for Arlo’s lifestyle, he hadn’t come close. Yet she was here anyway. But it was only for two months, which did concern her—not the lack of amenities but being so close to Arlo because, already, memories she didn’t want coming back were flooding in. The Catskills. Going to farmers’ markets on the weekends. Reading out loud to each other at night—she liked Charles Dickens, he liked Stephen King. The way he’d always shown up at the hospital to walk her home when it was dark. Or check the oil and battery in her car, then go fill it up to make sure she wouldn’t get stranded somewhere on the road. The big thingsthe little things. The things she’d taken for granted. So many of them were coming back to her now.
She’d expected some of that, but not so much, which made her wonder if what she’d thought of as a nice romance, or even an intense one at times, had really been much more. She knew she’d fallen in love with Arlo, but suddenly some of their memories were tearing at her heart. Even so, she didn’t regret her decision to come to Thailand as there was a possibility she needed closure much more than she’d thought she did.
“And this is how you get along on a daily basis?” she asked, wondering if she could as well. Because she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Arlo. There’d been too many times when he’d teased her about being a spoiled little rich girl, which had bothered her more than she’d expected it to. What she wanted more than anything was to show him she could do this on her own. Live this way. Be a good doctor. Be someone he respected. Because that’s the one thing she’d never been sure she’d had from him—his respect. And now, even after all this time, she wanted it. Why? She didn’t know. But it mattered. Mattered much more than she’d have ever guessed it would.
“SERIOUSLY? YOU CAN’T get antibiotics?”
Layla was reacting to a definite lack of supplies in Arlo’s medicine lock-up. She’d taken a peek while she was over there and had been totally shocked. In comparison to what she’d had available to her all the time this was crazy. Yet it was Arlo’s crazy, and he seemed good with it.
“I can, but it’s not as easy as you’d think. Medical care is free, but I have to wait for my allotment, then it’s sent to the regional hospital for me to pick up. Getting there isn’t always easy. I don’t always have time. And I can’t have someone do it who isn’t medically qualified.”
“But don’t you have an assistant?”
“He’s a student, Layla. A college graduate who’s getting ready to go to med school. And he’s a good medic in the field. Trained by me, though. So he’s not licensed or certified in any medical capacity yet, which means he can’t make that trip. I have a nurse who’ll bring my supplies out when he can, but doctors and nurses are in critically short supply outside the big cities, so he’s not always free to help me either. Meaning if I need something immediately, sometimes I can go get it, sometimes I must wait, depending on what else is going on.
“Bottom line—what I need is available, but the ability to go after it is often lacking. So we wait, and make do until we can rectify the situation.”
“I guess I never realized how difficult some medical situations can get, even when supplies are available.”
“Most people don’t. It’s not their fault, but who wants to hear about what I do here when what’s happening with medicine in Bangkok’s hospitals is a huge contributor to the medical world in general. That’s just the way it is.”
In her medical world, a quick call to the pharmacy or central supply got her what she needed within minutes. Layla couldn’t even begin to imagine the frustration of knowing you had what you needed available, yet you couldn’t get to it. Maybe that was something she could fix. Something where her admin skills would prove to him she was good at what she did. Certainly it was worth looking into.
“So, can you stock ahead? Keep a few things back in case of emergency?”
“I do, but I don’t have a lot of storage capacity here. And sometimes no electricity for days, which means the drugs that require refrigeration go bad.”
It kept getting worse. No easy access to drugs that were his. Sometimes no ability to store them properly. And Arlo had chosen this over his grandfather’s surgery? “Can’t say that I understand any of this, Arlo. When you used to talk about coming back here, what you have isn’t what you described. I pictured a modern facility tucked away in the jungle. Not a rundown structure that lacked supplies, personnel and anything that could be construed as convenient or up to date.”
“But that’s who we are. And this is what I knew I’d be getting when I came back.”
“Do you have a bed?”
“Sure do. And it will be yours if you want it. Also, it’s not a bed so much as a cot.”
“And with the facilities across the street”
“Consider it a little bit of rustic camping.”
“For two months, Arlo. I can do that. But this is the rest of your life and even though I can see it, and I do have a better understanding of the need here”
“Let me guess. You still don’t