moist soil. He gestured for her to sit on the concrete steps leading down from the back door of the residence compound, then lowered himself beside her. His knees were only an inch from hers, the smooth blue cotton of his scrubs contrasting with her khaki slacks. She considered putting more space between them, but the stairway railing was at her back. And he might be insulted if she shifted away. He’d chosen this place to sit with her, so she decided to accept his nearness without making a fuss.
Perhaps his subtle body language was his way of conveying the way things worked at the clinic. Volunteers worked together. They ate together. They shared a residence—except for Dr. Wesker, who, Rose had informed Ellie, lived in a small cottage just up the street, and Rose herself, who remained in the house she’d shared with her late husband.
Personal space might be a luxury unavailable in this village on the outskirts of Kumasi, at least for the volunteers.
“They’re lovely birds,” he said, “but rather too giddy.”
It took Ellie a minute to realize he was referring to the college interns. “They’re women, not birds,” she said, a stern display of feminism.
“I imagine they’d prefer to be thought of as birds. At least they’d prefer that I refer to them that way. They twitter and flutter a lot. They mean well, but our older staff tend to be more productive. You’ve met the other nurses?”
She had. One was a thin, towering Kumasi native named Atu. He’d said little when Rose had introduced Ellie to him, but he’d had a marvelous smile. The other nurse, Gerda, was from Scotland and was, according to Rose, a fanatic about sterility. Ellie had contended that in a medical setting, being fanatical about sterility was not such a terrible thing.
Atu appeared younger than thirty. Gerda looked closer to sixty. Both, Ellie assumed, met Adrian’s definition of mature.
“You’re here for six months, then?” he asked.
She nodded. “That’s the plan.”
“You will work far harder during these six months than you have ever worked in your American practice, Ellie. You will see health problems you haven’t heard of before. Your heart will break ten times over, and it will soar at least twice as often.”
“I’m looking forward to the soaring part,” she said with a smile.
He smiled back, his eyes nearly disappearing. “Tell me, then,” he asked, “why are you here?”
“A friend mentioned your program to me, and I researched it on the Internet,” she said. “It sounded interesting. I thought I’d enjoy it, and I knew I’d have something to contribute—”
He cut her off with a snort. “Spare me the do-gooder speech. Everyone who passes through here is oh, so altruistic, so eager to save the world.” He tempered his cynical tone with a chuckle.Deep lines framed his mouth and dented his cheeks. At one time, they might have been dimples. Ellie wondered how old he was. His hair was more brown than gray and his forehead was relatively smooth. But the creases framing his eyes and mouth indicated that he’d spent many years in the sun.
He shifted on the steps so he was facing her, his back against the wrought-iron rail and his knees bent toward his chest, and took a sip of his coffee. “People come here for one of two reasons. They come here to lose themselves, or they come here to find themselves. Which reason fits your purposes?”
She leaned back against the cast-iron posts of the railing and drank some coffee, using the time to contemplate his question. Had she come here to lose herself? Hell, she was already lost—but she’d come to get even further away from everything that was wrong with her life back home. Her empty, echoing house. Her bone-aching grief. Her husband’s betrayal. Her dread of the darkness that kept threatening to swallow her.
Yes, she’d wanted to lose herself.
But she’d also wanted to stand tall again, and feel as if her life had purpose. She’d wanted to save
Perhaps his subtle body language was his way of conveying the way things worked at the clinic. Volunteers worked together. They ate together. They shared a residence—except for Dr. Wesker, who, Rose had informed Ellie, lived in a small cottage just up the street, and Rose herself, who remained in the house she’d shared with her late husband.
Personal space might be a luxury unavailable in this village on the outskirts of Kumasi, at least for the volunteers.
“They’re lovely birds,” he said, “but rather too giddy.”
It took Ellie a minute to realize he was referring to the college interns. “They’re women, not birds,” she said, a stern display of feminism.
“I imagine they’d prefer to be thought of as birds. At least they’d prefer that I refer to them that way. They twitter and flutter a lot. They mean well, but our older staff tend to be more productive. You’ve met the other nurses?”
She had. One was a thin, towering Kumasi native named Atu. He’d said little when Rose had introduced Ellie to him, but he’d had a marvelous smile. The other nurse, Gerda, was from Scotland and was, according to Rose, a fanatic about sterility. Ellie had contended that in a medical setting, being fanatical about sterility was not such a terrible thing.
Atu appeared younger than thirty. Gerda looked closer to sixty. Both, Ellie assumed, met Adrian’s definition of mature.
“You’re here for six months, then?” he asked.
She nodded. “That’s the plan.”
“You will work far harder during these six months than you have ever worked in your American practice, Ellie. You will see health problems you haven’t heard of before. Your heart will break ten times over, and it will soar at least twice as often.”
“I’m looking forward to the soaring part,” she said with a smile.
He smiled back, his eyes nearly disappearing. “Tell me, then,” he asked, “why are you here?”
“A friend mentioned your program to me, and I researched it on the Internet,” she said. “It sounded interesting. I thought I’d enjoy it, and I knew I’d have something to contribute—”
He cut her off with a snort. “Spare me the do-gooder speech. Everyone who passes through here is oh, so altruistic, so eager to save the world.” He tempered his cynical tone with a chuckle.Deep lines framed his mouth and dented his cheeks. At one time, they might have been dimples. Ellie wondered how old he was. His hair was more brown than gray and his forehead was relatively smooth. But the creases framing his eyes and mouth indicated that he’d spent many years in the sun.
He shifted on the steps so he was facing her, his back against the wrought-iron rail and his knees bent toward his chest, and took a sip of his coffee. “People come here for one of two reasons. They come here to lose themselves, or they come here to find themselves. Which reason fits your purposes?”
She leaned back against the cast-iron posts of the railing and drank some coffee, using the time to contemplate his question. Had she come here to lose herself? Hell, she was already lost—but she’d come to get even further away from everything that was wrong with her life back home. Her empty, echoing house. Her bone-aching grief. Her husband’s betrayal. Her dread of the darkness that kept threatening to swallow her.
Yes, she’d wanted to lose herself.
But she’d also wanted to stand tall again, and feel as if her life had purpose. She’d wanted to save
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