Adam's Promise. Gail Gaymer Martin
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Her eyes narrowed, and the look she sent him nailed him to the floor. “Perhaps we should hire a local to handle supplies. Is your Spanish prolific enough to give her orders?”
Adam held up his hand to calm the waters. “I’m not arguing with you, Katherine. We’re dealing with drugs here, and we need to be responsible. We can’t lose cartons of morphine and Demerol.”
“I didn’t lose anything. I just can’t find the boxes.” She spun around and headed for the doorway.
He watched her rounded hips sway as she charged across the room. Besides being irked by his comment, he knew she hated him to call her Katherine. Everyone called her Kate, but Adam thought that calling her Katherine kept things more professional.
Before she passed through the doorway, Kate paused, eyeing him over her shoulder. “You know, when I volunteered for Doctors Without Borders, I agreed to leave my cozy apartment and come to this village miles from nowhere, except mangroves and jungle.” She spun around to face him. “But I didn’t agree to be called inadequate.” She pivoted again and hurried out of the room.
“Look, Katherine. Come back…please.”
In a moment, she reappeared in the threshold, her arms folded across her chest.
“I’m not blaming you. It’s a month between shipments, and when we come up short—”
“I know.” Kate stepped into the room and approached him, her arms swinging in a hopeless gesture. “I’m upset, too. I don’t understand what happened.”
A movement at the doorway caught Adam’s attention.
“What happened?” The clinic’s internist stood inside the doorway, eyeing the two of them. “What’s the problem?” Perspiration beaded Lionel Valenti’s face, and he pulled out a handkerchief to blot the moisture.
“Our supplies,” Kate said, her tone as defeated as she looked.
Valenti’s gaze shifted from Kate to Adam as if not sure who had the answer. “What about them?”
“We’re running low on some of the meds,” Adam said, studying his co-worker’s face with concern. The man’s haggard look grew worse everyday, and Adam prayed he hadn’t contracted some type of jungle virus. The Venezuelan climate had been difficult for everyone.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Valenti said. “When I give away meds, I list them on the charts.”
“No one’s accusing anyone,” Adam said. “But according to Katherine, the computer records and what’s on the shelves don’t match.”
Valenti shrugged. “Our new shipment should be here on Thursday. It is the second Thursday of the month, isn’t it? If so, we don’t need to worry.”
“I’m not worried about running out. I’m worried about being accountable,” Adam said.
Kate held up her hand to halt the discussion. “I forgot to tell you. I got a call this morning. The Thursday shipment will arrive on Tuesday, two days early.” She shrugged. “Don’t ask me why.”
Valenti eyed his watch. “Tuesday. July sixth.” He swung his arms out at his sides and let them drop. “Then there’s no problem. In four days we’ll have a restocked dispensary.”
“But that still doesn’t answer my question,” Kate said as she marched toward the doorway and vanished into the hallway.
“What’s eating her?” Valenti asked.
Adam shrugged. “Prima donna. She doesn’t take criticism well.” He swung his frame into the chair Kate had vacated and eyed the computer screen. “She’ll get over it.”
Valenti leaned over with him and studied the monitor. When he drew back, he swayed and grabbed the chair back to steady himself.
Adam looked into his colleague’s face. “I’m concerned about you, Lionel. You don’t look well. You’re flushed and look tired. Have you checked your temperature?”
“It’s nothing,” Valenti said, waving Adam’s words away. “It’s the climate. I hate humidity. And I’ve got a sinus infection.”
“You sure? If you need a day off, we’ll cover for you.”
“No need. I’m fine.” Valenti dug his hands into his lab coat pockets. “We’re all looking bad. It’s this late shift.”
“Someone has to do it,” Adam said.
Valenti shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. There’s not much to do here anyway except slap at mosquitos and listen to those incessant insects.”
“This isn’t Colorado Springs.” Adam chuckled. “I have to keep reminding myself this is Santa Maria de Flores. No luxuries here.” He swiveled the chair from side to side, thinking of the comfortable town house and silver sports car waiting for his return. “I soothe myself with the thought that people wouldn’t have medical treatment if we weren’t here.”
“You sound like a true humanitarian, Adam.”
Valenti’s comment had a sarcastic ring to it, but Adam didn’t challenge the man. He’d been tense lately. Like Valenti had said, so had everyone.
Prima donna. Kate stormed away from the doorway with Adam’s words ringing in her ears. If she were going to tag someone with that label, his name wouldn’t be Kate. Daily she struggled to put a Christian spin on Adam’s arrogance. He irked her to the core with his Katherine this and Katherine that. Who did he think he was?
Kate’s footsteps whispered along the hallway as her thoughts swung from her frustration with Adam to her admiration. The man could be self-centered one minute and filled with compassion the next…when it involved the patients. Beneath her irritation, she admired the man. He’d come from a prestigious family in Colorado Springs. His father was the mayor, and yet, here he was in Venezuela providing health care to the poor in a rustic community so many miles from the comforts of home.
Kate reached the end of the long hallway, turned right for a short distance and entered the dispensary on the left. She scanned the shelves again, concerned. Had she mislabeled the inventory when it arrived? She pulled the ladder to the end of the row and checked the boxes lining the wall.
Perspiration beaded her skin, and with her exertion, moisture collected along her hairline and rolled down her face, stinging her eyes. She blinked and climbed down from the ladder.
Stepping back, she tripped over a pile of empty cartons and gave them a swift kick. A box cart-wheeled through the air and landed near the doorway.
“Take that, Adam Montgomery,” she said, then chuckled at her childishness.
What made her most angry was her attraction to the man. Since they’d arrived, she’d watched him work and had observed his skill as a plastic surgeon. He transformed deformed children into beautiful youngsters—healthy and unscarred by their tragic births or their horrible mishaps. And, though Adam strutted his stuff in the office, she witnessed a humility when it came to working with the families. His kindness touched her heart. Somewhere beneath that arrogance was a true Christian man.
Longing for a breath of air, Kate turned off the dispensary light, locked the door and walked a step farther to the outside delivery door. Once a month a truck pulled up behind the clinic to bring lifesaving drugs and supplies to the volunteer group of doctors, nurses and personnel who worked there.
Darkness enshrouded her as she stepped outside. No convenient streetlight glowed to dispel the gloom. Only the moon’s faint glint flickered from beyond the tree leaves. She stood beside the door, drawing in the humid air. An occasional whiff of breeze rustled the grasses around the stucco building, her home away from home.
Home. She didn’t allow herself to think about home. She loved her small apartment in Colorado Springs. She’d made something of herself despite her difficult past, a past she pushed out