thing for him.
But no boy clamored through Ellie’s house anymore, complaining about too much math homework and asking what was for dinner. Peter was dead, and so was a huge chunk of Ellie’s soul. And now her marriage was dying, too. She’d had to get away.
“I assure you,” she told Rose, “I have no intention of getting a crush on Dr. Wesker.”
Rose shook her head, unconvinced. “They all say that.”
Ellie laughed. “I’m here to give vaccinations and take throat cultures for strep. The last thing I need in my life is romance.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not a lesbian, are you? Not that I mind, one way or the other, but you do have to share this floor with three other ladies. They’re rather young, I’m afraid. College girls on an academic semester abroad.” She gestured through the doorway toward the hall, onto which several other rooms opened. “No medical skills to speak of. They’re very good with the children, handing out suckers and jelly beans after the little ones have received shots. One of them has been a godsend when it comes to processing the paperwork. The other two may someday make suitable nannies, but I don’t see much more in their futures. Certainly nothing in the healing arts.”
“I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” Ellie said.
“They all have crushes on Adrian,” Rose added.
Ellie laughed again. Not strained, hysterical laughter but relaxed, comfortable laughter. Coming here—flying across an ocean and landing somewhere near the equator, in a country that smelled of ferns and spice and cocoa, where people dressed in cool, colorful linens and spoke a language called Twi as well asa pungently accented English, and where impoverished women and their children needed access to free medical care—had been a wise move. When Ellie had exited the airport with Rose and stepped into the warm African morning, she’d felt her spine straighten, her eyes widen. The darkness that had been her companion for nearly two long, horrible years melted away beneath that fine tropical sun.
Once Ellie had finished unpacking, Rose took her on a tour of the clinic. The boxy, functional building wasn’t much to look at, but it included the basics: a waiting room with a spacious play area full of toys for the children, two examining rooms, a modest surgery—“Anything major we refer to one of the hospitals in the city,” Rose explained—and a six-bed ward. Currently two beds were occupied by thin, sad-eyed children battling the flu. “Dehydration, both of them,” Rose noted, pointing to their IV drips. “They’ll recover shortly. Be prepared to encounter lots of childhood diseases you thought had vanished from the face of the earth. Measles, rubella, chicken pox. These children don’t get inoculated the way your children back home do.”
Ellie nodded, taking it all in. She gave each of the young patients a warm smile before leaving the ward.
Rose walked her through the nurses’ station, which contained a small pharmacy, two desks and a computer that would have been obsolete ten years ago. Ellie recalled the nurses’ station at Children’s Hospital in Boston, where she’d taken her first job after receiving her RN degree. It had boasted clean, sleek counters, bright lighting and all the high-tech equipment a nurse could dream of. Even her office at the Felton Primary School made this clinic on the outskirts of Kumasi seem about twelve rungs lower than primitive.
But a nurse didn’t need a fancy computer to make a child with chicken pox feel better. Just lots of liquids, cool baths, calamine lotion and ice cream to slide down a tender throat.
Dr. Wesker’s office door was closed, and Rose warned Ellie not to disturb him when he was shut up inside, unless it was an emergency. So Ellie didn’t meet the doctor until that evening at dinner, in the dining room on the first floor of the residential compound. A long, family-style table took up most of the room, which
But no boy clamored through Ellie’s house anymore, complaining about too much math homework and asking what was for dinner. Peter was dead, and so was a huge chunk of Ellie’s soul. And now her marriage was dying, too. She’d had to get away.
“I assure you,” she told Rose, “I have no intention of getting a crush on Dr. Wesker.”
Rose shook her head, unconvinced. “They all say that.”
Ellie laughed. “I’m here to give vaccinations and take throat cultures for strep. The last thing I need in my life is romance.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not a lesbian, are you? Not that I mind, one way or the other, but you do have to share this floor with three other ladies. They’re rather young, I’m afraid. College girls on an academic semester abroad.” She gestured through the doorway toward the hall, onto which several other rooms opened. “No medical skills to speak of. They’re very good with the children, handing out suckers and jelly beans after the little ones have received shots. One of them has been a godsend when it comes to processing the paperwork. The other two may someday make suitable nannies, but I don’t see much more in their futures. Certainly nothing in the healing arts.”
“I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” Ellie said.
“They all have crushes on Adrian,” Rose added.
Ellie laughed again. Not strained, hysterical laughter but relaxed, comfortable laughter. Coming here—flying across an ocean and landing somewhere near the equator, in a country that smelled of ferns and spice and cocoa, where people dressed in cool, colorful linens and spoke a language called Twi as well asa pungently accented English, and where impoverished women and their children needed access to free medical care—had been a wise move. When Ellie had exited the airport with Rose and stepped into the warm African morning, she’d felt her spine straighten, her eyes widen. The darkness that had been her companion for nearly two long, horrible years melted away beneath that fine tropical sun.
Once Ellie had finished unpacking, Rose took her on a tour of the clinic. The boxy, functional building wasn’t much to look at, but it included the basics: a waiting room with a spacious play area full of toys for the children, two examining rooms, a modest surgery—“Anything major we refer to one of the hospitals in the city,” Rose explained—and a six-bed ward. Currently two beds were occupied by thin, sad-eyed children battling the flu. “Dehydration, both of them,” Rose noted, pointing to their IV drips. “They’ll recover shortly. Be prepared to encounter lots of childhood diseases you thought had vanished from the face of the earth. Measles, rubella, chicken pox. These children don’t get inoculated the way your children back home do.”
Ellie nodded, taking it all in. She gave each of the young patients a warm smile before leaving the ward.
Rose walked her through the nurses’ station, which contained a small pharmacy, two desks and a computer that would have been obsolete ten years ago. Ellie recalled the nurses’ station at Children’s Hospital in Boston, where she’d taken her first job after receiving her RN degree. It had boasted clean, sleek counters, bright lighting and all the high-tech equipment a nurse could dream of. Even her office at the Felton Primary School made this clinic on the outskirts of Kumasi seem about twelve rungs lower than primitive.
But a nurse didn’t need a fancy computer to make a child with chicken pox feel better. Just lots of liquids, cool baths, calamine lotion and ice cream to slide down a tender throat.
Dr. Wesker’s office door was closed, and Rose warned Ellie not to disturb him when he was shut up inside, unless it was an emergency. So Ellie didn’t meet the doctor until that evening at dinner, in the dining room on the first floor of the residential compound. A long, family-style table took up most of the room, which
Similar Books
