LITMIR.BIZ

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know if I could have handled the situation without you.”

      “I’ve no doubt you could have.” His look met hers. “Maybe I earned that meal after all.”

      Court had been called in early the next morning to help with an emergency and had been assisting in surgery ever since. He’d had to hustle to get a bite of lunch before going back. He’d not seen Maggie all day. It bothered him not to know where she was and what she was doing. Calling it curiosity and unable to stand it any longer, he’d asked and been told it was her day off.

      Bottom line, he missed her. A foreign concept for him. He never let someone interest him enough to miss them. That’s what most of his lady friends complained about—he never really cared. He couldn’t.

      Shaking his head in an effort to remove the idea, Court returned to seeing patients and worked late into the afternoon. He was on his way back to the bungalow when he saw Neetie running up the path. Court couldn’t help but be captured by the bundle of energy the young boy presented with his arms flying and sticklike legs pumping. Neetie made him think of the childhood question, “Is that you or are you riding a chicken?”

      He sobered. He’d asked Neetie on their return to the hospital from the village how old he was. Neetie had said eight. The age Court had been when his brother had died. The same age that made his heart catch when he cared for a patient. He’d become a pediatrician because of his brother and wanting to help others like him, but in many ways it had been difficult. Especially when his actions caused a child to be disabled. The burden of failure weighed on him like a sack of heavy rocks he never put down.

      Neetie slid to a stop out of arm’s reach, and looked up at Court with uncertain eyes.

      A stab of regret cut through Court. Had he intimidated the boy so much yesterday that he was afraid of him? Court had never meant the boy to fear him.

      Neetie pointed down the path from the direction he’d come. “Missy Maggie, help.”

      Court’s heart jerked in his chest and he went down on one knee, meeting the boy at eye level. “What’s wrong with Missy Maggie?” The amount of worry those words held surprised Court. When had Maggie started becoming significant enough for him to feel any anxiety over her?

      “She in …” Neetie seem to search for the word. He said something in Mamprusi.

      “Box?” Court translated.

      Neetie gave a vigorous nod and pointed toward the back of the compound.

      “A box? What box? Show me.”

      Neetie scampered down the winding path, and Court followed him at a lope. They went past the bungalows, around a small group of trees and came to what looked like an outdoor storage area. Sitting on the ground were two large metal overseas shipping containers. Neetie pointed into the container with the huge doors flung open. Court looked inside the dark cavern and found the box partially full.

      Squinting, he waited while his eyes adjusted from the bright light of the outside to the almost pitch dark inside. He could make out aqua fifty-five gallon plastic drums. They were stacked two high, the top of the second one well above his head. Some of the drums had fallen and were lying at odd angles.

      Panic surged through him. Maggie could be seriously hurt. Court stepped into the container. “Maggie?”

      “I’m back here.”

      Relief washed over him, to be replaced by flaming anger. What if he hadn’t gotten here in time? What if she’d been too hurt to cry out for help? “Where?” His fear made the word sharp. With a tight chest he took a deep breath and let it out in the hope of slowing his pulse and holding off his irritation at her for being so reckless.

      “Straight back.”

      He turned to Neetie. “You stay here.” Court pointed to the ground outside the container, making sure his instructions were clear. Neetie nodded. Court refused to allow another person be injured because he’d failed them. He needed to know that the boy was safe.

      With a grunt Court righted a fallen drum. It was heavier than he’d anticipated. What in the world was Maggie doing in here by herself? When he got to her he was tempted to put her over his knee like he would have a disobedient child for scaring him. He continued to move barrels to the side, creating a narrow aisle. “Are you hurt?”

      An exasperated sigh came from a few feet in front of him. “Not really.”

      What the hell did “Not really” mean? “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

      “No. Mostly it’s my pride that’s hurt.” Her voice became clearer as he worked his way closer. “I saw a drum marked ‘Bandages’ up on the top. I knew better than to climb up there and rock it but I did it anyway. I didn’t want to take the time to walk all the way to the hospital to get help.”

      “Yeah, don’t do the smart thing. As always, handle it yourself,” Court mumbled, while he pushed at another drum with more force than necessary. She was the one everyone turned to for help at the hospital. Amazingly, she always gave it willingly.

      “After the first one went they all started falling like dominos. One of the metal clips holding the top closed caught my clothes, and I went down with the barrels.”

      Her chatter told him that she was more afraid than she’d first let on. Good, she should be. Maybe she’d learned a lesson. He’d reached the deepest part of the fifty-foot box that doubled as a furnace in the late-evening sun. Visibility was dismal at best but he could just make out the top of Maggie’s head. He uttered a curse under his breath when he thought of what could have happened. If he’d not seen Neetie …

      Court righted the barrels and pushed them to the side, squeezing past them.

      Maggie was trapped, half under a barrel. The fury he thought he had under control snapped. “Why’re you out here by yourself?” His words cut as sharply as a scalpel. “You should know better.”

      With a glare, she said, “I do this all the time. It’s no big deal. I was doing it before you showed up, and I’ll be doing it when you’re gone,” she snapped.

      She had him there. He had no business telling her what she should and shouldn’t do. But he still couldn’t get the gut-wrenching feeling of what could’ve happened to her out of his mind. He wiped away the sweat beading heavily on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It had to be over a hundred and ten. “How long have you been in here?”

      “All together?”

      “Yeah, all together.” The sarcasm snapped as bluntly as a dry twig. Yet his professional side kicked in. He needed to keep her talking until he could reach her, so she wouldn’t be afraid. She could be seriously injured and, if nothing else, she had to be dehydrated.

      “I started working after lunch. A couple of the men were helping me but they got called away.”

      “How long have you been pinned here?” He enunciated each word as he continued to shift barrels.

      “Oh, maybe fifteen minutes.”

      The temptation to shake her built within him. That fist-size ball of fear he always carried in his gut grew. She sounded so calm about it. It was a wonder she’d not passed out.

      Court mumbled a word Neetie didn’t need to learn until he was much older. “Maggie, you could’ve …” He stopped himself from saying more. Getting irate and making her the same wasn’t going to help matters. Now was the time to use the cool he’d been so famous for when he’d practiced medicine. He called out the door, “Neetie, go to my bungalow. Get a jug of water and my med bag. It is by the door. Run.”

      Nettie’s rapid prattle of response reached Court’s ears. Good, Maggie would need the water when he got her out of here.

      Struggling with the bulk of a drum, it made a thump when it rocked on its end. He could see her well now. She sat on the floor of the container, with a drum over her legs, and thankfully one drum supported

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