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Authors: Maryann Jordan
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take a miracle,” Miriam whispered, beginning to feel that there were no miracles in store for her.
Smiling, Sister Genovia replied, “Miracles happen. And I have a feeling that one is just waiting for you.”
A guard stuck his head into the tent and the two women quickly began counting the bandage rolls once more. Gathering some in her arms, she walked briskly by the guard and into the infirmary tent, seeing Ernesto and Sharon standing very close together. Sharon was leaning close to the handsome doctor and his eyes were on the woman. Remembering the words of the nun, Miriam gave them a quick smile and continued into the next room.
Please God. I need that miracle. But until it came, she bent over the exam table and began helping the next ill worker.
*
Miriam heard the noise of a truck pulling up outside and men shouting. Wanting to be as far away from the commotion as possible, she moved toward the back while continuing to check on patients. Pushing her damp hair away from her sweaty face, she bent over the worker who had been retching most of the night. From the looks of him, he might not live through the day.
Dr. Villogas moved beside her and bent over the patient as well, his body too close to hers for comfort.
“I hope you enjoyed the dinner last night,” he said, turning his handsome smile toward her. “Mr. Guzman and I were thrilled to have such company.”
“It was lovely,” she commented. “I hope we did not put your wives out too much.”
The only thing that gave away his surprise at her comment was the flash of irritation that moved through his eyes.
“Not at all. Our wives are very…accommodating that way.”
Forcing a smile on her face, she just nodded.
“We would love to have you join us again sometime,” he said, his voice smooth.
She looked across the room catching Sharon’s gaze on her and was trying to think of an answer when she was saved by the yelling from a guard at the door.
Dr. Villagas and she moved to the outside of the tent where a large truck parked, two men in the back being loaded onto stretchers and being brought inside. The doctor immediately moved with the ill and Miriam stayed behind hoping to put some distance between she and him for as long as possible.
Her eyes turned back to the truck, the acrid smell of vomit emanating from the bed of the vehicle. That was when she noticed the driver. How could she not notice him? Compared to most men around, he was huge. Taller than her brother who was six feet, two inches tall, he was built like one of the football players she would see when Jobe dragged her to college games. His black hair curled over his ears and down his neck. His olive skin was covered in the same dust that coated the truck. He had a few days scruff on his face, needing a good shave to go along with a haircut. His cargo pants were muddy at bottom as well as his boots caked in the clay. Other men around seemed to be giving the driver a wide berth, probably wondering if he were going to become sick as well. As her eyes moved back up his enormous frame, she was startled to see that he was staring. At her. Directly at her.
Chapter 7
C am could not believe his luck…or fate. How the hell did I manage to pull up to the exact infirmary tent that she’s at?
He looked away quickly, but not before she had noticed him. Her face, having been committed to memory from the photograph, was now forever burned into his soul from seeing her in person. The family resemblance to Jobe was noticeable, but she was more beautiful in person.
Long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Clean hospital scrubs that did not hide the curves beneath. Her complexion was marred by the dark circles underneath her eyes and he quickly ascertained that she was several pounds thinner than her latest photograph. Her eyes landed on his and before he looked away, he saw the flash of curiosity…as well as fear…in her expression.
Placing his hand over his stomach, he received the desired
Smiling, Sister Genovia replied, “Miracles happen. And I have a feeling that one is just waiting for you.”
A guard stuck his head into the tent and the two women quickly began counting the bandage rolls once more. Gathering some in her arms, she walked briskly by the guard and into the infirmary tent, seeing Ernesto and Sharon standing very close together. Sharon was leaning close to the handsome doctor and his eyes were on the woman. Remembering the words of the nun, Miriam gave them a quick smile and continued into the next room.
Please God. I need that miracle. But until it came, she bent over the exam table and began helping the next ill worker.
*
Miriam heard the noise of a truck pulling up outside and men shouting. Wanting to be as far away from the commotion as possible, she moved toward the back while continuing to check on patients. Pushing her damp hair away from her sweaty face, she bent over the worker who had been retching most of the night. From the looks of him, he might not live through the day.
Dr. Villogas moved beside her and bent over the patient as well, his body too close to hers for comfort.
“I hope you enjoyed the dinner last night,” he said, turning his handsome smile toward her. “Mr. Guzman and I were thrilled to have such company.”
“It was lovely,” she commented. “I hope we did not put your wives out too much.”
The only thing that gave away his surprise at her comment was the flash of irritation that moved through his eyes.
“Not at all. Our wives are very…accommodating that way.”
Forcing a smile on her face, she just nodded.
“We would love to have you join us again sometime,” he said, his voice smooth.
She looked across the room catching Sharon’s gaze on her and was trying to think of an answer when she was saved by the yelling from a guard at the door.
Dr. Villagas and she moved to the outside of the tent where a large truck parked, two men in the back being loaded onto stretchers and being brought inside. The doctor immediately moved with the ill and Miriam stayed behind hoping to put some distance between she and him for as long as possible.
Her eyes turned back to the truck, the acrid smell of vomit emanating from the bed of the vehicle. That was when she noticed the driver. How could she not notice him? Compared to most men around, he was huge. Taller than her brother who was six feet, two inches tall, he was built like one of the football players she would see when Jobe dragged her to college games. His black hair curled over his ears and down his neck. His olive skin was covered in the same dust that coated the truck. He had a few days scruff on his face, needing a good shave to go along with a haircut. His cargo pants were muddy at bottom as well as his boots caked in the clay. Other men around seemed to be giving the driver a wide berth, probably wondering if he were going to become sick as well. As her eyes moved back up his enormous frame, she was startled to see that he was staring. At her. Directly at her.
Chapter 7
C am could not believe his luck…or fate. How the hell did I manage to pull up to the exact infirmary tent that she’s at?
He looked away quickly, but not before she had noticed him. Her face, having been committed to memory from the photograph, was now forever burned into his soul from seeing her in person. The family resemblance to Jobe was noticeable, but she was more beautiful in person.
Long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Clean hospital scrubs that did not hide the curves beneath. Her complexion was marred by the dark circles underneath her eyes and he quickly ascertained that she was several pounds thinner than her latest photograph. Her eyes landed on his and before he looked away, he saw the flash of curiosity…as well as fear…in her expression.
Placing his hand over his stomach, he received the desired
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