Revealing the Real Dr. Robinson (13 page)

“And you’re sure these symptoms manifested themselves this morning?”

Shanna nodded, didn’t say a word. But the implication wasn’t lost on Amanda or Jack, both of whom had the good grace to not ask. “I’ve asked him a couple times lately if he’s feeling okay, and he always said he’s fine.” She shrugged. “But that’s Ben, isn’t it?”

“I want Jack to treat him,” Amanda said. “There’s no time to soft-pedal this or spare feelings. Jack’s the best, and I want Ben to have the best.”

Shanna knew Amanda was upset, and didn’t want to add to that, especially as she was pregnant. But she’d made a promise to Ben she intended to see through. Ben trusted that. Deep in her heart she knew he truly trusted that. “With all due respect, Amanda, I need Jack in the lab. He
is
the best, and he’s the one who needs to do the tests. But I need to do the treatment because I promised Ben I would. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to draw the first round of blood work, so Jack can have a look.”

“Can I see him?” Amanda asked.

“In a few minutes. I’m in the middle of an exam, and once I’m through with that, I’ll let you know.”

“He isn’t going to...?”

Amanda didn’t finish the question, but she didn’t have to because the unspoken word congealed inside Shanna, clawed at her breath, clutched at her heart. “No. He isn’t.” Words that shouldn’t have been said as last time she’d made that promise, she’d failed her patient. And if ever there was a time she’d worn her heart on her sleeve, this was it. It was time to face who she was, and accept it, for Ben. That was the thought weighing on her as she went back into the exam, followed by Jack, who insisted on drawing his own samples.

“In my work, it’s best to control all the variables.” He glanced briefly at Ben, then turned to the storage cabinet to pull out the various sample tubes he’d need and turned back. “Damned shame, what he’s gone through,” he said as he applied the tourniquet and started his search for a good vein. “He’d hate it, being exposed the way he is right now. Ben does everything he can to cover himself up.”

“She’s already seen me,” Ben muttered.

Chuckling as he poked for a vein, Jack said, “So you’re eavesdropping on us?”

“Some. Too much effort to open my eyes, but I can hear.”

“Off and on,” Shanna said, stepping up to the head of the bed with a damp cloth to wipe Ben’s face.

“But everything was fine last night?” Jack asked. “And I’m not asking to pry. I need to establish a timeline.”

“He was fine until a little before midnight, then...” Shanna shrugged, looked over at Jack, who was extracting his third tube of blood from Ben’s arm, and smiled apologetically. “Then when I woke up just after five he was like this. First thing I noticed was how hot he was, then after I checked him I discovered the rest.” Dipping the rag into a basin of cool water, she wrung it out and began to wipe his face again, but stopped. Held her breath, bent down, took a close look... “Hello, kissing bug.”

Also called a triatomine bug, they hid in crevices in the walls and roofs during the day, emerging at night when people slept. “See, Jack, right there, next to Ben’s left eye, that little bit of swelling.” The triatomine’s choice of human contact—the face. Hence the common swelling near the eye.

“She knows bugs,” Ben mumbled.

“I may know my bugs, but this little beauty isn’t one of my favorites,” she said. It caused too much damage. Often killed its victims or rendered them significantly damaged and disabled. Heart transplants were a frequent outcome for the lucky ones able to survive to that point.

The outlook for Ben? She hoped good. She hoped this was in an early enough phase that a sufficient course of benznidazole, an antiparasitic drug, would be all he needed. It was a long shot. She understood that. But she also knew Ben. He was strong. A fighter. If will could win this battle, he’d be good as new in due course. “Really, Ben. A bee sting would have been easier.”

“Never claimed to be easy,” he said as his eyes shut.

“No, you didn’t,” she whispered, then looked across at Jack, who was well into drawing the fourth and final tube of blood. “Jack, besides the blood work you’re going to do, I’d like to get an abdominal X-ray, as well as do an endoscopy. Do you think Amanda will object?”

“You’re Ben’s physician,” he said, “so do what you think is necessary. And, by the way, good catch, Dr. Brooks. I knew who you were before, but that officially turned you into a jungle doctor.” After he’d drawn the blood, Jack pulled off the tourniquet then moved up to look at what Shanna had spotted. To the naked eye the swelling was nearly invisible. But it was there. He whistled as he palpated it with his index finger to make sure. “Yep. Hell of a good catch!”

“Well, it’s barely there, but it’s definitely a
chagoma.”

“And as it hasn’t developed fully yet, I’m definitely impressed.”

Maybe he was, but he needed to reserve judgment of her until later, after Ben had run his course with Chagas disease, so named for the Brazilian doctor who had first diagnosed it. Time, as well as treatment, would be the deciding factor, but time scared her to death as the course of this disease was to start mild in the early stages, sometimes go away altogether, sometimes go dormant, only to return with a vengeance after a while. Ben was definitely seeing the vengeance side, but she was praying it was the early stage of vengeance rather than the late.

“You stay with me, Ben,” she told him three hours later, as she settled down into a chair next to his bed. “I don’t want you going anywhere.” They’d put him in one of the very few private rooms at Caridad after Jack had confirmed the diagnosis by identifying the parasites in Ben’s blood, and after an abdominal X-ray and endoscopy had shown no intestinal, stomach or esophagus damage—the usual areas of damage in Chagas. And while Chagas wasn’t contagious, and any other patient infected with it might have gone to the ward, Ben deserved his privacy. So much so, she believed, that she’d removed all the nurses from his care. He was hers to take care of, and hers alone.

So maybe it was the protective thing going on in her because Ben fought hard to protect himself. Or maybe it was just that she didn’t want to leave him, didn’t want to take her eyes off him. Didn’t want to shut her eyes and not hear his breathing. Whatever the case, as she settled down she knew she’d be there for the duration, however long that was. After that...no clue. But for now her life was solved, even if that solution was only a temporary one. She loved this man and she was hoping the rest of it would fall into place.

“Damn it, Ben! I’ve spent a lifetime having difficult stuff, and for a change I needed something easy. But you’re not easy. Not even close to it. So why did you happen to me?”

Naturally, he didn’t answer. But that was okay, because she didn’t have an answer, either. For now, maybe being clueless was enough.

CHAPTER TEN

“
N
OT
as good as Italy,” Ben said, struggling to his feet. Eleven days flat on his back, except for trips to the bathroom over the past couple of days, and he was ready to get up and move around. But slowly, because the repercussions from being bedbound were screaming from every fiber and
synapse in his body.

“What?” Shanna asked, holding on to him as she steadied him.

“Italy. The mountains, and the ski slopes. Nice way to spend my time off work. This wasn’t. I hate being...”

She laughed. “Grounded.”

“Grounded. Inactive. Treated like an invalid.”

“But you are an invalid.” They were heading outside, to a chair on the wooden porch.

“Because you’ve been waiting on me hand and foot. Being my
slave,
even though you didn’t lose the bet.” After he’d rejoined the so-called living, he hadn’t really minded her taking care of him. In fact, the better he felt, the more he’d enjoyed it. Shanna had such a feminine touch, and that was something he wasn’t used to, especially when it touched him.

“Haven’t heard you objecting.”

“I’ve been sick, not crazy.”

“Anything you want before I go on duty?”

Glancing over at the clinic, the line of people waiting to be seen was winding its way around the corner of the building. Ever since word had got out that he’d nearly succumbed to the dreaded kissing bug, people were lining up to have every bug bite and nibble checked. He couldn’t blame them. It was a frightening thing to be attacked in the night and never even realize it until you were sick. Or, in his case, almost dead. “I want you to take some time off. You’re looking worn out.”

“Wish I could, but I can’t. Your doctor is absolutely adamant about you not coming back to work for at least three more weeks, which means somebody’s got to see your patients while you’re sitting here lounging around and drinking tropical fruit drinks.”

“My doctor is overreacting. I’ll be good to go in a few days.”

“Your doctor scheduled you for some tests in Buenos Aires in a few days, and she’s not taking no for an answer.”

“I don’t have any heart damage, Shanna,” he said. Except for some residual weakness, he felt fine. Mentally, he was ready to get back to work, if not to active duty then consulting in some capacity. But she was being a real stickler, which he would appreciate for some other patient but not for himself. “All my vital organs are fine. Everything’s fine.”

“How do you know that, Ben? You were sick for weeks before you collapsed, and you didn’t even know it.”

“Because Chagas is asymptomatic in the beginning.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not clearing you for work, and that’s hospital policy. Your policy. You have to secure your doctor’s clearance to return to work after an extended illness.”

He appreciated her diligence, but more than that he appreciated the feistiness in her. He’d been a grump these past several days and had caught himself arguing when there wasn’t anything to argue about. Shanna had stood up to him every time, and he liked watching that in her. Part feistiness, part pure moral purpose. She was a fierce doctor. More than that, a true friend. Maybe the first one he’d had outside his sister since his childhood.

Loving her was complicating the situation, though, because things hadn’t changed with him. At the end of all of Shanna’s tender, loving care he’d still be who he’d been for the last dozen years, and she deserved more than that...better than that. “I can change the rules.”

A sly smile slid to her lips. “Not without Amanda’s consent. And she won’t consent, Ben. We’re on the same page when it comes to what to do about you.”

“I feel...” Happy, actually.
Happy
wasn’t a word that invaded his vocabulary too often, neither did it ever have a place in his life. But he felt happy and in odd, refracted moments, even though he didn’t want his convalescence to end. It had to, of course, but he liked the attention. Especially Shanna’s attention.

“Smothered?” she asked.

“Picked on.” In a good way.

“Poor Ben. Terrible patient. Even worse in his recovery.” She laughed as she spun away. “If I have time, I’ll join you for lunch. And if you need anything...”

“I need to get back to work.”

“Not happening yet, so deal with it.” She waved goodbye, then hurried over to the clinic where the waiting crowd almost mobbed her as she tried to get through.

Shanna had brought new life to Caridad. And new inspiration. The place needed her more than it needed most of the equipment on his want list because she embodied what he wanted this place to be—the hope, the passion, the caring demeanor. But she was fully in doctor mode right now, and when that wore down a little, when she actually had time to figure out that they weren’t a couple, or involved, or could never have a relationship, she’d leave, because Shanna was such a bright star in the universe and Caridad couldn’t contain her.

So for the next hour, trying to keep his mind off what he couldn’t have, he sat in the sun and endured an article with the dry title “Internal
Jugular Vein Cannulation: to Turn or Not to Turn the Head.” Dry reading to go along with the title, and in spite of the early hour he caught himself nodding off halfway through, where he was just beginning to read the section where cannulation times, success rates and correlation to neutral head position and forty-five-degree head rotation were being introduced.

That was when his eyes finally gave up the battle and sent Ben off to catch forty winks, or in his case an hour’s worth.

He only woke up when an unfamiliar voice invaded the pleasant dream where he and Shanna were stretched out on a blanket, having a picnic down at
laguna ocultada.
They’d just decided there were things better to do than eat when—

“Dr. Robinson?” It was an older voice, a vaguely familiar one. “You
are
Dr. Robinson, aren’t you?”

He opened his eyes, disappointed that his dream had been interrupted. “I am,” he said, looking up at the man. Good-looking guy, vaguely familiar face, lots of white hair, age indeterminable as he didn’t have a wrinkle. But he had...Shanna’s green eyes. He’d recognize them anywhere.

“And you’re Dr. Brooks?” Extending his hand to the man, he didn’t even attempt to stand. Wasn’t sure if his legs were quite steady enough, and pitching forward into Shanna’s grandfather’s arms wasn’t an impression he cared to make. “Please, forgive my appearance.”

He had on his usual cargo pants and white, long-sleeved shirt, but his hair was unkempt, and he sported several days’ worth of stubble. And he was barefooted. During his illness he’d discovered he liked going without shoes. A small step away from his cautious ways, but a nice one. “But I’m recovering from Chagas. Not up to speed yet.”

“I trust it was caught early enough that you’ll have full recovery,” he said, taking Ben’s hand. “Mind if I sit down?”

“By all means...” So, what was he doing here? Shanna hadn’t mentioned anything about a visit. Or if she had, it had been days ago, when he’d still been too sick to hang on to much around him. Did she even know he was here? “Would you care for some fruit juice?” He pointed to the pitcher Shanna had left for him. “Or I can have some tea made. Yerba maté’s quite tasty.”

Miles Brooks rejected both offers and never fully settled into the chair. Instead, he sat on the edge, kept himself erect and, from outward appearances, aloof. His attire was something more suited to the golf course than the jungle. “My goal, young man, is to collect my granddaughter and leave here as quickly as possible.”

“Shanna knows your plan?”

“What Shanna knows is that she doesn’t belong here. She may have some wild, romantic notion that she’s queen of the jungle, but her place is at her hospital, taking up her new duties, and once she’s out of this environment, she’ll remember that.”

“You’re really going to let her walk away from patient care to spend her days behind a desk?”

“Not let, young man. Insist. She has a good head for business matters, and a frail heart for patient care. What I’ve done is put her where she belongs.”

“You put her where she belongs.” No wonder Shanna was on a sabbatical. That was probably what he’d be doing too if Miles Brooks was what he had to face every day. “Shouldn’t where she belongs be Shanna’s choice?”

“When she works for me, no, it is not.”

“Then that’s too bad. Because I’d be willing to bet there’s no one on your staff as suited for patient care as your granddaughter.”

“I gave her the chance to be suited the way Brooks Medical Center needs her to be suited. But she failed, Dr. Robinson. Failed miserably.”

“Failed what?” he asked.

“My ultimatum. After her sabbatical, she was to return to us as a doctor who didn’t get emotionally involved with her patients, or as an administrator who would have no contact whatsoever with patients. Her emotions make her weak. She gets too involved, too caught up in aspects of a patient’s life where she has no business. So I gave her a chance to correct that, to remove the emotion from her patient care and deal solely with the treatment. In other words, eliminate the involvement she seems to develop for the people she treats and simply do a straightforward job. It’s what we expect from all our physicians, and Shanna is no exception.

“Oh, and she agreed to the arrangement, by the way. We didn’t just shove her out the door. She walked away willingly, knowing what she had to do.”

He didn’t know how to process this yet. Didn’t even know how to begin, he was so...numb. Shanna had agreed to her grandfather’s ultimatum? How? Why? “And she’s agreed to return to Brooks on your terms?” he asked, trying to blot out what was becoming glaringly obvious.

“If she doesn’t return, the board has the right to sever her completely from Brooks, which would mean her part-ownership would dissolve.”

“And she wouldn’t be welcome in her family?”

“Really, that’s none of your business, Doctor.”

True, it wasn’t. But now he had his answer and he couldn’t simply blot it out. Because now he understood why Shanna had come here to be like him. In her eyes, he was like her grandfather. Cold, dispassionate. She’d come here to learn detachment from the master of detachment. He couldn’t say it was a good feeling, being copied for the things he himself knew weren’t good.

In fact, it felt downright awful, because he’d hoped she was here to observe and learn something else from him. Jungle medicine would have been okay. Running a small hospital would have been fine. Or maybe, in the wildest of all fantasies, she’d followed him here because she’d wanted to have some kind of a relationship, in spite of his platonic ways in Tuscany.

Well, it didn’t matter what he thought, did it? Because what Shanna had come to learn from him was how to be a cold, impersonal bastard like her grandfather was. That was all she’d wanted—to figure out how to switch off her real self, the way he was so good at doing, and turn on the heart of stone. And she’d seen him as her perfect teacher. “You don’t care what people want, do you, Dr. Brooks? Or what they’re best suited for?”

“In my world, what I have to care about is that everything is run as efficiently as possible. We’re a large institution, and silly sentimentality gets in the way. Shanna suffers from silly sentimentality, and the only way to reduce that is to remove its cause from her path. I know you run a hospital here, but I doubt you can even begin to comprehend to enormity of the task of running Brooks.”

No, he couldn’t imagine. Neither did he want to. “How did you find Caridad?” he asked, fighting back the thought of what Shanna really thought about him.

“You’re easy to track. And I do remember you, by the way. Young man with an axe to grind. My decision to refuse you for a residency was a good one and judging from the way you ended up, even better than I realized. You may think you’re some kind of a Svengali, son, who’s going to manipulate his way into the Brooks family and medical resources through my granddaughter, but it’s not going to happen.

“It’s a simple equation, really. Shanna back at Brooks Medical Center equals everything for her. Shanna staying at this little place you call Caridad equals nothing for her—no more partnering in our medical enterprises, no more position at the hospital, no more family, for the most part. If she turns her back on us, we turn ours on her. And somehow I have an idea you enter into the equation, don’t you? I’m sure she’s gotten herself all emotional over you. Young man with a tragic past. Now with a serious illness. That’s her element, Doctor. It’s where she deludes herself into believing she’s delivering good patient care.”

“You’re a divisive son of a bitch, Dr. Brooks.”

Miles Brooks laughed aloud over that. “Been called worse, young man.”

“But have you been called shortsighted? Because believing that good medicine is practiced without emotional involvement is about as shortsighted as it comes.”

“Fine. Run your hospital on any kind of emotion you want. But don’t disrespect me because I don’t choose to be the same kind of administrator you are. What I do works.”

“And hurts your granddaughter. Can’t you see that? She’s as gifted a doctor as I’ve ever seen, and what you expect from her either diminishes or disallows that. And if you force her back to Brooks in an administrative-only capacity, it’s your loss.”

“Or, depending on the perspective, my gain.”

“Add manipulative to my description of you, Dr. Brooks. Because it’s not Shanna you want. It’s your victory over her.”

“It’s never occurred to you that her family loves her and that’s why we want her back.”

“No, because it’s never occurred to Shanna that her family loves her.” He watched the old man’s face for some sort of shock, or anger, because that was an outrageous statement to make, as true as it was. Sadly, nothing registered on Miles Brooks. And that was when it hit him again. Shanna had believed she could learn from him how to be like this cruel excuse of a man.

“What her family loves, Dr. Robinson, is any equation that betters the hospital. Shanna is part of that equation. But do you fall into that somewhere? To get her, do I have to offer you something?”