Outpost Hospital (8 page)

Mark’s reaction had been completely unexpected and extremely upsetting, but she couldn’t disregard the fact that Mrs. Parks might have exaggerated the seriousness of the illness. If she had, Katherine might throw up everything she had achieved here in Ngombe needlessly. And there would be no coming back. Mark had made that very plain. So that she would probably never see him again. Never see Mark again. She said the words to herself and k
n
ew that all the meaning would go out of her life if that happened. She loved him as much, perhaps more than she ever had.

She stood up. She would take Andrew’s advice an
d
not try to reach a decision until the morning. Sleeping on it was supposed to be a good idea, although she didn’t feel much like sleeping at the moment.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
leep finally came, bringing with it disturbing dreams, so that when Moses brought her washing water next morning, Katherine got up feeling tired and depressed. She went automatically through the routine of washing and dressing, telling herself over and over, “You must decide now.”

She had already put on her nursing uniform when she realized that, if she was going home, she would not want the uniform on. Did that mean that subconsciously she had decided to stay? No! She pulled the white coat off and stood in the middle of the room looking uncertainly from the coat to the cupboard that contained her other clothes and back again.

She was still standing there in her slip when someone knocked at the door. Goodness! That would be Andrew wanting to know if he was to take her to his neighbor who had the airplane.

Hastily pushing her arms into her housecoat and tying the belt she opened the door.

Mark Charlton was there.

“Oh, it’s you, Doctor,” she exclaimed in surprise, fidgeting with her hair and the belt of her housecoat. “Er ... good morning.” He said “Good morning,” and then she noticed that he had an envelope in his hand. An all too familiar envelope! It was another cable. An icy fear spread over her as she stared at it.

He held it out to her. “I was walking by the river when the boat brought this so I said I’d give it to you.” She made no move to take it from him and he said, “Shall I open it for you?”

She nodded, and when he had slit open the envelope and taken out the cable she whispered,
“Will ...
will you read it please?” Holding tightly onto the door she heard him say, “Your father much improved. No need for your return. Keep you informed. Dr. Fraser.”

Then she took the paper and read it herself. “He’s getting better,” she said thankfully.

Mark Charlton smiled warmly. “Yes. I’m very glad, Nurse.
Er...
” He looked down at the floor and then back at Katherine. “I’m afraid you thought I was very hard yesterday over your father’s illness. Well, perhaps I was, but we have both worked hard to get where we have here, and it looked as though it was all going to fall apart. It would have taken months to repair the damage. So you see how important you are to me.” He smiled again and with his odd little salute he walked away.

Katherine watched him go, his words echoing in her mind. “You see how important you are to me.” And Dad was getting better. Dr. Fraser had been their family doctor for many years, and if he said she need not return, he could be taken at his word. She did not have to choose between her father and Mark Charlton. For that is what the problem really came down to, though she would not have admitted it to herself until now; and even now she pushed the unpleasant thought firmly out of her mind as she quickly finished dressing.

Then she wrote a letter to her father and managed to catch the messenger who had delivered her cable before he left the station. He would take it to Makurdi from where it would travel by airmail.

This made her late to breakfast and she had only time to tell Andrew the good news before she went to the hospital.

It was operating morning; then there were out-patients to treat, and at about three o’clock, leaving Simon to carry on with the clinic, Katherine walked into the village to visit “her mums” as she called them. These were the women due to give birth shortly, to whom she gave simple instructions on preparing for the baby, and a brief health checkup; and the women with new babies whom she advised on feeding and hygiene. She always took with her a good supply of orange juice, dried milk and vitamin tablets and antiseptic creams.

These gifts were received in most cases with pleasure, but Katherine could never be quite sure that the orange juice was not rubbed on cuts or sores, and the cream taken internally. There was no doubt however that the health of both mothers and babies was improving noticeably.

At six in the evening Katherine set off back to the hospital, her empty case in one hand and a bag with her scales in the other.

It was a fine, warm evening and she was enjoying the walk through the belt of trees that separated the village from the hospital. The pungent smell of leaves and grass after the long heavy rains; the sounds—some she could not identify—a mixture of chattering, grunting, screeching and, in an occasional quiet moment, even a plaintive “moo” from one of the dairy cows Mark had imported from a more progressive village to provide fresh milk for the children—all these now-familiar noises made a pleasing accompaniment.

She was halfway home when she heard running footsteps behind her and, turning, saw Andrew rushing toward her'. She stopped to wait for him. When he reached h
e
r he panted, “Do you always tear along at such a rate? Phew! I’m piffed.”

“Sorry, Andrew,” she laughed, “I didn’t realize I was going quickly.”

“That’s because you never stop long enough to notice how you were rushing around before. That’s a bit complicated but you know what I mean. Here, give me those bags.” He took them, pretending to find them very heavy. “Jings! I’ll need a wee rest before I carry these home. Look!” He pointed to a fallen tree trunk about ten yards from the path. “Let’s sit there a while. It looks quite dry.”

Katherine shook her head. “No. I must get back. I have notes to write up and Dr. Charlton might want me for something.”

“Och, you’ve been working since eight o’clock this morning. Surely you’re entitled to a few minutes break now?” When she still refused, he said, “All right. If your conscience won’t allow you to take time off you can justify it by regarding me as a patient. Then you’ll realize that I need a rest before carrying these heavy bags if I’m not to strain my heart. And it’s in no condition to withstand any extra strain at the moment.”

She looked quickly at his solemn face. It was hard to tell if he was serious or not. “What do you mean, Andrew? Is there something wrong with your heart?”

“I’m not really sure yet,” he replied. “But come and sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”

She followed him to the fallen trunk and sat down looking uncertainly at Andrew as he put the bags down and took his place beside her. He didn’t speak and she put her fingers on his wrist. “Your pulse is normal,” she told him. “If this is just a crafty trick to persuade me to neglect my work I—”

He smiled and took her hands in his. “Don’t be angry with me, Kathie,” he pleaded disarmingly. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day, and there hasn’t been a moment. And once you get back to the house there’d have been no chance.”

“It is getting rather dark, though,” she said nervously, realizing what he was going to say. She tried to withdraw her hand but he held on to it.

“Don’t try to run away, Kathie, my dear,” he said. “Listen for just a moment.”

“All right, Andrew,” she murmured. “What is it?”

“Well, I think you know I’ve grown very fond of you in the time you’ve been here, don’t you?”

She nodded. “You’ve been very kind to me.”

“That wasn’t difficult,” he smiled. “But when the
c
able came to say your father was ill and it seemed you would be leaving us—even for a short time—I knew I cared more for you than I’d realized. Then, when the possibility of your going forever arose—” his grip on her hand tightened “—well, then it was clear, even to a cautious Scot, that I loved you.” He turned to her and she saw depths of love and tenderness in his brown eyes.

She looked away. Why must it be Andrew who was gazing at her with his heart in his eyes? If only it was Mark. But it was gentle Andrew. Must he be hurt as she had been? Oh, why were human emotions so wayward and contrary?

Still watching her face he said, with an attempt at lightness, “Well, that’s what I wanted to tell you and I’ve done it.”

“Dear Andrew,” she whispered, and searched for a way to answer him without hurting him. “I—”

“Don’t say anything now, Kathie,” he interrupted. “Think about it. Remember that I love you very much, and that if you will be my wife, I’ll be happier than any man has a right
to expect to be on earth, and, well, if it’s not blasphemy, I don’t think Heaven can hold much greater joy.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Then Andrew stood up and helped Katherine to her feet. “We’d better get on our way if you really must do more work before dinner,” he said, picking up the bags.

“I just have to fill in the babies’ weights on their case cards and a few little jobs like that. Do you know that Ika—she was born six weeks prematurely—weighs ten pounds four ounces?” she asked proudly.

“That’s fine,” said Andrew. “I’m baptizing her on Sunday.” And they chatted about their work for the rest of the journey.

That night Katherine lay in bed thinking about Andrew’s proposal. It had not greatly surprised her. She had known for some time that he was becoming increasingly fond of her, but she had never considered how she would answer if he asked her to marry him. Now she must.

Her first reaction had been to dismiss the idea at once as out of the question. Now she was not so sure. Mark did not want her and Andrew did. Ought she to turn away from such genuine affection as the young clergyman was offering her? She could make Andrew happy and be happy herself. She would have a home, a dear husband, children; but if she refused to marry Andrew, what was left for her? Only her work. She loved nursing, but she had never wanted to make it her whole life. And she was lonely. Why turn away the reality for
the dream?

But would it be fair to Andrew to marry him when another man’s touch could make her tremble, when the sound of another man’s voice could make her heart race?

Sighing, she sat up and clasped her arms around her knees. It was no use trying to sleep until she had found the answers to some
at least of the questions that kept rearing their perplexing heads. There was Mark—reserved, self-sufficient, a little aggressive, as her father had said; and there was Andrew—kind, gentle and uncomplicated.

Picturing the two very different men in her mind she suddenly realized why she was having such difficulty deciding how to answer Andrew’s proposal. It was because she loved him! If she had not, there would have been no problem. Her love for Andrew was not the same as her feeling for Mark. Indeed, it was as different as moonlight is different from lightning.

Moonlight and lightning. Which was best? The soft warm glow or the blinding flash?

Having made that much progress she shook up her pillows and decided to leave the rest until the next day.

She gave it a good deal of thought for several days without getting any nearer to a decision. She knew that Andrew would not press her for an answer, and before she gave him one she had to be quite certain. He was too nice to be hurt. Or to be hurt more than was absolutely unavoidable.

She was still turning it over in her mind on her next afternoon off, sitting on the porch with her pen in her hand and a writing pad on her knee. She ought to be getting on with her newsletter for the vicar at home in Dinton instead of dreaming.

“You look very busy,” said a deep voice. She looked up. It was Mark. For once he was not wearing his white coat. He had on a fawn short-sleeved bush jacket over shapeless fawn slacks.

With a sigh of relief, he flopped into a low cane chair. “I’m taking an hour off,” he said, feeling in his pocket for his pipe. “All is peace at the hospital except for the usual afternoon symphony of snores. Don’t let me interrupt you, though. I’ll just have a quiet smoke if it doesn’t bother you.”

“No. No, it doesn’t. Please do. I’m just trying to get my monthly newsletter done, but the boat won’t be in before tomorrow at the earliest.”

At that moment shouts from the direction of the river made them look that way.

“Something unusual seems to be happening,” said Mark, shading his eyes in an effort to see the cause of the excitement.

“I think it’s a boat,” said Katherine. “Yes. I caught a glimpse of it through the trees. It’s a big canoe.”

Mark jumped up, grabbing his sun helmet. “I wonder—Excuse me, Nurse,” and he ran down the steps and across to the landing stage.

Katherine got up and went to stand by the porch railing. She could see the boat clearly now. As well as the boys, there was a pile of luggage, and at one end, under an improvised awning, sat a woman, her face hidden by a large shady hat. Who could it be? Andrew had said nothing about expecting a visitor. Did Mark know who it was? He had seemed excited as he ran from the porch.

The boat, reached the landing stage. There was something vaguely familiar to Katherine about the tall, slender young woman who stepped gracefully from it. She was wearing a lime-green two piece suit and her hat was of the same color. Her hair was coppery red, and as she put her head back to smile dazzlingly at Mark, Katherine recognized her.

It was Elizabeth Frayne—the beautiful doctor Mark loved and had wanted to marry.
The reason for his coming to Africa. And now she was here.