Rogue (26 page)

“My guess is I won't be staying anywhere, if this is anything like other earthquake disaster scenes I've been to. I'll be camping out in a truck, and sleeping standing up. I probably won't even see Blake when I get there, or not much.” It seemed ridiculous to her that Charles would make a jealous scene over something as obvious and benign as this.

“I don't think you should go,” he said, digging in his heels. He was livid.

“That wasn't the question, and I'm sorry you feel that way,” Maxine said coolly. “You have nothing to worry about, Charles,” she said, trying to sound gentle and be understanding about it. He was jealous. It was sweet. But this was one of her specialties and the kind of work she did all over the world. “I love you. But I'd like to go over and lend a hand. It's only coincidental that the one who asked me to go is Blake. Any of the agencies involved could have called me too.”

“But they didn't. He did. And I don't see why you're going. For chrissake, when his son got hurt, it took you nearly a week to find him.”

“Because he was in Morocco, and they had an earthquake,” she said, sounding exasperated. This was seeming more unreasonable to her by the minute.

“Yeah, and where has he been for the rest of his children's lives? At parties and on yachts and chasing women. You told me yourself, you can never find him, and that's not because of earthquakes. The guy is a jerk, Max. And you're running halfway around the world to make him look good while he rescues a bunch of earthquake survivors? Give me a break. Screw him. I don't want you to go.”

“Please don't do this,” Maxine said through clenched teeth. “I'm not running off with my ex-husband for an illicit weekend. I am going to consult about starting up a program for thousands of children who have been left orphaned and injured and are going to be traumatized for the rest of their lives if someone doesn't do the right stuff in the beginning. It may not make much difference, depending on how they implement it, and what kind of funding is available to them, but it could make some. And that's my only interest here, not Blake, but helping those kids, as many as I can.” She made it very clear to him, but he wasn't buying it. Not for a minute.

“I had no idea I was marrying Mother Teresa,” he said, sounding even angrier than before, much to Maxine's utter frustration and chagrin. The last thing she wanted was a fight with Charles over this. It was pointless, and would just make things harder for her. She had made a commitment to Blake, and she was going. It was what she wanted to do, whether Charles liked it or not. He didn't own her, and he had to respect her work, and even her relationship to Blake, such as it was. Charles was the man she loved, he was her future. Blake was her past, and the father of her children.

“You're marrying a psychiatrist specializing in suicidality in adolescents, with a subspecialty of trauma in children and adolescents. I think that's pretty clear. The earthquake in Morocco is right up my alley. The only reason you're upset about it is because of Blake. Can we be grown-ups here? I wouldn't make a fuss if you were doing it. Why can't you be reasonable about me?”

“Because I don't understand the kind of relationship you have with him, and I think it's sick. You two have never cut the cord, and you may be a psychiatrist, Dr. Williams, but I think your bond to your exhusband is twisted, that's what I think.”

“Thanks for your opinion, Charles. I'll take it into consideration some other time. Right now, I'm late for my patients, and I'm going to Morocco for three days. I made a commitment, and I'd like to do it. And I would appreciate it if you would be a little more adult about it, and trust me with Blake. I'm not going to have sex with him amid the rubble.” She was raising her voice, and so had he. They were fighting. About Blake. This was crazy.

“I don't care what you do with him, Maxine. But I can tell you one thing, I'm not going to put up with this kind of thing after we're married. If you want to run off to earthquakes and tsunamis and God knows what else halfway around the world, that's fine with me. But don 't plan on doing it with your ex-husband and have me stick around. I think this is just an excuse for him to get you over there and hang out with you. I don't think it has a goddamn thing to do with Moroccan orphans or anything of that nature. The guy isn't enough of a human being to give a damn about anyone but himself, and you've told me that yourself. This is just an excuse and you know it.”

“Charles, you're wrong,” she said quietly. “I've never known him to do anything like this either, but I have to respect what he's doing. And I'd like to help him if I can. I'm not helping
him.
I'm doing what I can for
those children.
Please try to understand that.” He didn't answer her, and they both sat there fuming. It bothered her that he had such an issue about Blake. It was going to make things very difficult for her and the children in the future if he didn't get over it. She hoped he would soon. And in the meantime, she was going to Morocco. She was a woman of her word. And hopefully, Charles would calm down. They hung up, but nothing had been resolved.

Maxine stood staring at the phone for a moment afterward, upset by the conversation. And she jumped at the voice behind her. In the heat of her fight with Charles, she hadn't heard Daphne come in. “He's an asshole,” Daphne said, with a voice from beyond the grave. “I can't believe you're going to marry him, Mom. And he hates Dad.” Maxine disagreed, but she could understand why her daughter felt that way.

“He doesn't understand the kind of relationship I have with him. He never talks to his ex-wife. They don't have kids.” But it was more than that with Blake. In their own way they still loved each other, it had just transformed into something else, a kind of familial bond that she didn't want to lose. And she didn't want a showdown with Charles over it. She wanted him to understand, and he didn't.

“Are you still going to Morocco?” Daphne asked with worried eyes. She thought her mother should, to help out her dad and all those kids.

“Yes, I am. I just hope Charles calms down over it.”

“Who cares?” Daphne said, pouring cereal into a bowl, as Zellie started making pancakes for her.

“I do,” Maxine said honestly. “I love Charles.” And she hoped that one day her children would too. It wasn't unheard of for children to resent a stepparent, particularly at these ages. There was nothing unusual about it, she knew, but it was damn hard to live with.

Maxine was a full half hour late at her office, and continued to run late all day. She hadn't had time to talk to Charles again. She was swamped, seeing patients, and canceling whatever appointments she could for the end of the week. She called Charles as soon as she got home, and was discouraged to find that he was still upset. She reassured him as much as possible, and asked him if he wanted to come over for dinner. He stunned her by saying that he'd see her when she got back. He was punishing her for the trip that had been generated by Blake, and he didn't want to see her before she left.

“I'd love to see you before I go,” she said gently. But Charles wasn't ready to give it up. She hated leaving knowing that he was still angry at her, but he refused to relent. Maxine thought it was childish of him, but decided to let him calm down while she was away. There was no other choice. When she called him later, she found he had even turned off his phone. He was stewing and taking it out on her.

She had a pleasant dinner with her children that night, and after another crazy day in the office on Thursday, she called Charles again in the evening, before she left. This time he answered his phone.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” she said as calmly as she could. “I'm leaving for the airport.” They were flying out of Newark where Blake always landed his plane.

“Take care of yourself,” Charles said gruffly.

“I emailed you Blake's cell phone and BlackBerry, and you can try mine. I think it'll work while I'm there,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“I'm not going to call you on his phone,” Charles said, sounding angry again. It still rankled him that she was going. It was going to be a miserable weekend for him. She understood why, and she felt badly about it, but she was sorry he couldn't seem to get past it and be more understanding. She was excited now about the trip, and what she'd be doing. There was always a kind of professional high in those situations, even though they were heartbreaking. But helping in national disasters like that made one feel like one's life had some meaning. She knew it was good for Blake too, and it was a first for him, which was part of why she was going. She didn't want to let him down, and she wanted to reinforce the turn his life seemed to be taking. It was just too much for Charles to understand. And Daphne was right. He hated Blake, and had been jealous of him from the first.

“I'll try and call you,” Maxine reassured him, “and I left Zellie your numbers in case anything happens here.” She assumed he'd be in town, since she wouldn't be around.

“Actually, I'm thinking about going to Vermont,” Charles replied. It was beautiful there in June. She would have loved it if he had the kind of relationship with her children where he would see them even without her, since he was going to become their stepfather in two months, but he didn't. And she knew that, in her absence, the children wouldn't want to see him either. It was a shame. They still had a long way to go before both factions were at ease with each other. They needed her to be the bridge between them. “Be careful, disaster sites like that can be dangerous. And that's North Africa, not Ohio,” he admonished her before they hung up.

“I will, don't worry.” She smiled. “I love you, Charles. I'll be back on Monday.” She was sad when she hung up. This had definitely been a hiccup between them. She hoped it wouldn't be more than that, and she was sorry she hadn't seen him before she left, because he refused to. It seemed childish and petty to her that he was being so stubborn about it. As she went to kiss her children goodbye, she observed to herself that in the end, no matter how old they were or how grown up they pretended to be, all men were babies.

Chapter 17

Blake's plane took off from Newark airport on Thursday night,
just after eight
P.M.
Maxine settled back comfortably in one of the luxurious seats, and she was planning to use one of the two bedrooms to get a good night's sleep. The rooms had king-size beds, beautiful sheets, and warm comforters and blankets, and there were big fluffy pillows. One of the two flight attendants on board brought her a snack, and shortly after that, a light dinner of smoked salmon and an omelette they had prepared on board. The purser gave her the details of the flight, which would take seven and a half hours. They would arrive at seven-thirty
A.M.
local time, and a car and driver would be waiting to take her to the village outside Marrakech where Blake and several other rescue workers had set up camp. The International Red Cross was there too in full force.

Maxine thanked the purser for the information, ate the light meal, and went to bed by nine. She knew she'd need all the rest she could get before she got there, and it was easy to do in the luxury of Blake's plane. It was handsomely decorated in beige and gray fabrics and leathers. There were cashmere blankets on every seat, mohair couches, and thick gray wool carpets throughout the plane. The bedroom was done in a pale yellow, and Maxine fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. She slept like a baby for six hours, and when she woke up, she lay in bed, thinking about Charles. She was still upset that he was so angry at her, but she knew that going to Morocco had been the right decision.

She combed her hair and brushed her teeth, and put her heavy boots back on. She hadn't used them for a while and had retrieved them from the back of her closet, where she kept clothes for situations like this. She had brought rough gear with her, and suspected she'd be sleeping in what she wore for the next few days. She was actually excited about what she was going to do, and hoped she could make a difference, and be of some assistance to Blake.

She emerged from the bedroom looking fresh and rested, and enjoyed the breakfast the flight attendant served her. There were fresh croissants and brioche, yogurt, and a basket of fresh fruit. And she did some reading after she ate, as they started to descend. She had pinned a caduceus to her lapel when she got up, which would identify her as a physician at the disaster site. And she was ready to roll when they landed, her hair in a neat braid, and wearing an old tan safari shirt under a heavy sweater. She had T-shirts, and a rough jacket too. Jack had checked the weather for her online before she packed. And she had a water canteen that she filled with Evian before she left the plane. There were work gloves clipped to her belt, and surgical masks and rubber gloves in her pockets. She was ready to work.

As Blake had promised, there was a Jeep and driver waiting for her when she got off the plane, and she carried a small shoulder bag with clean underwear in case there was a place for her to shower on site, and she had medicines in the event that she got sick. She had brought the surgical masks with her in case the stench of rotting bodies was too much, or they were dealing with infectious diseases. She had alcohol wipes with her too. She had tried to think of everything before she left. It was always a little bit like a military operation going into situations like that, even if there was utter chaos. She wore no jewelry except a watch. And she had left her engagement ring from Charles in New York. She was all business as she hopped into the waiting Jeep and they drove off. Her French was rudimentary, but she was able to talk to the driver on the way. He said many people had been killed, thousands, and many people were hurt. He talked about bodies lying in the streets, still waiting to be buried, which to Maxine meant diseases and epidemics in their immediate future. You didn't have to be a doctor to figure that out, and her driver knew it too.

It was a three-hour drive to Imlil from Marrakech. It took two hours to a town called Asni, in the Atlas Mountains, and nearly another hour to Imlil on rough roads. It was cooler on the way to Imlil than it had been in Marrakech, and the countryside was greener as a result. There were mud-brick villages, goats, sheep, and chickens on the roads, men on mules, and women and children carrying bundles of sticks on their heads. There were signs of damaged huts, and the trauma of the earthquake from Asni to Imlil, and there were footpaths between all the villages, most of which had been destroyed. Openbacked trucks from other areas carried people from one village to another.