A Family for the Children's Doctor. Dianne Drake

what?”

      “To what aspects of my life are you referring? Medically, as a doctor, I’m absolutely to be trusted. Personally, as a friend, I’ve never had anyone say I’m not trustworthy.”

      “But as a man?” she asked, immediately regretting it. That had just slipped out. Some of her true sentiments shining through, the ones she never, ever let loose around any aspect of her professional life.

      “I’d say that’s pretty revealing,” he answered. “A mother alone in the Costa Rican jungle with her daughter. No wedding ring on her finger. Very distrustful of men. I’d say those are all signs of a relationship ending very badly.”

      “And I’d say those are personal things I don’t discuss.”

      “But didn’t you open the door to that conversation by asking me if I’m trustworthy as a man? That seems like personal conversation to me, and if you’re allowed to indulge in it, in all fairness, I should be given the same consideration.” He sat his cup down on the table and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “And the answer to your question is yes. As a man, I can be trusted. So now it’s your turn. You owe me one. Did the relationship end badly?”

      She glared across at him, and even though the room was dim, she could see the intense look on his face. He was serious. He really did expect an answer. “Why do you want to know?” she asked.

      “Because I like to know with whom I’m dealing. My reading on you before I came here didn’t reveal much. Mostly academic credits, medical accomplishments. Certainly nothing about Caprice the person. By design, I’m sure.”

      “And why would knowing more about Caprice the person benefit you?”

      “I’m not answering any more of your questions until you answer mine. In this world, you always have to give a little something to get something.”

      Caprice huffed out an impatient sigh. Her time was up. She needed to get back to Isabella. “In this world, sometimes it’s nice to give something without expecting anything in return for it.” With that, she stood, then looked down at him. “And in answer to your question, yes. It ended badly. As badly as a marriage could possibly end.” Then she left him sitting there.

      When she got out into the hall she slumped against the wall, thinking about putting her burning cheeks up against the cool cement blocks to stop the heat. Instead, though, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and fairly ran to her room before anyone had a chance to see how badly she was blushing. And shaking. And going wobbly in the knees.

      From the end of that same hallway Adrian stood in the cafeteria doorway, watching Caprice make her hasty retreat. When she finally disappeared through her door, he returned to the public telephone to make yet another try at a call home.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE room was basic. One great, open area partitioned into separate exam spaces by curtains, with each cordoned space containing a stainless-steel exam table, a stool for the doctor and a chair for the child’s parent, blood-pressure cuff, hand disinfectant, gloves—the most basic of medical equipment. Minimally equipped, yet equipped well enough.

      Near the main entrance to the room stood several rows of brown folding chairs, all set up in neat long rows for parents and children awaiting their turn with one of the doctors. And there was a play area in the corner with donated bright red, blue and green plastic toys for the youngest children. It was always the most popular spot in the room—a place for them to come together to make new friends.

      When the room wasn’t in use as a mass exam for Operation Smiling Faces, it served as a hall for hospital meetings and in-service training sessions—a multi-purpose room in function with three white cement block walls and a fourth wall that was more a row of windows overlooking the lush Costa Rican jungle.

      Caprice liked the room. Over the many times she’d been here, she’d come to appreciate the sparse quality of it, and even taken it on as a symbol of their mission—basic, without extras, minimally equipped, yet equipped well enough to give the children what they needed. No one complained that, in surgical sequences which would require multiple procedures, the entirety of the medical treatment might be spread out months, even years longer than it would elsewhere. The people here weren’t like that. They weren’t impatient or presumptuous. Rather, they were kind, friendly and, most of all, appreciative.

      Perhaps that’s why she kept coming back. In truth, she loved the smiles. One smile on a face that had never before smiled made all the effort worth everything it took to reach the medical end.

      The medical end…even her own Isabella hadn’t reached the end yet. She would require more surgeries over time as her face matured. The same with many of these children. Tweaks to compensate for growth, maybe another scar reduction depending on how technology advanced. More dental work. But then, somewhere, came a logical, beautiful end to it—an end everyone in this room wanted badly. Including herself, for them, and for Isabella.

      This morning, Caprice had ordered all the blinds closed as there were so many people now waiting outside those windows. Many more than last night. Hopefuls who didn’t have a scheduled appointment but came anyway, in the expectation that their child might find a place on the ever-growing appointment list. Sighing as she shut the last of the blinds on the more than one hundred people out there, Caprice turned back to face her team. “It gets bigger and bigger every time we’re here,” she said, smiling. It didn’t bother her. In fact, it rather pleased her that she was trusted here.

      “All facial disfigurations?” Adrian asked.

      “No. About half the people here know there’s some kind of free medical treatment being given to children, so they bring their children no matter what’s wrong. Tonsillitis, common virus, skin rashes. Sometimes nothing’s wrong at all.”

      “Sometimes the adults try to pass themselves off as children,” Grant Makela commented, laughing.

      “And?” Adrian asked.

      “If it’s simple,” Grant replied, “and we have time, we take care of them. If it’s anything more than a scratch or a bump, anything requiring real treatment, we refer them to the hospital.”

      Caprice nodded her agreement. “Medical standards are good here in Costa Rica, but there are always poor people in need no matter where you go, and in this area the medical facilities aren’t adequate for the overall need,” Caprice said, then smiled. “You can’t blame people for trying. I’d probably do the same.” In her heart she knew there would have been nothing she wouldn’t have done to find help for Isabella. More than anyone else in this group could realize, Caprice did understand that need in a parent.

      “And if the hospital won’t see them?” Adrian asked.

      “Then there’s nothing we can do.”

      “In other words, we let them walk away!”

      He sounded exasperated—much more so than he should have. Truth was, he’d known the protocol before he’d come. So why was he on the verge of arguing with her? Caprice’s brow knit with curiosity rather than anger over his near-challenge. “That’s not fair, Doctor. Each and every one of us gives everything we have to this cause, but that doesn’t always work out for the people who want to see us. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.” My, but he was irritable this morning. Irritable and, from the looks of that scowl clamping down over his face, itching to pick a fight with someone. Well, not her, not now. She didn’t have time. “We do the best we can do and hope it’s enough.”

      “And the best we can do is send them out the door with a pat on the back and good wishes?” he continued.

      Caprice finally leveled a cool stare at Adrian. Well, so much for forcing the situation between them. “You send them to me and I’ll make the decisions. At this stage of the operation your only job is to do a preliminary exam and give me your opinion. Do you understand me, Dr McCallan? The one, and only, thing I want from you is your