onto the same stool he’d sat on the night before.
“Spud’s a slave driver, I tell you,” Trent said with an exaggerated sigh. “Actually, I just finished up an emergency surgery. Clinic hours don’t usually start until nine. Coffee?”
He started to get up, but she waved her hand when she spied the percolator on the counter. “Thanks, I’ll grab it myself.” Last night, the darkness had obscured most of the kitchen, but this morning showed it to be big and functional, if a bit utilitarian.
“So, do you and Chase share a room?” As soon as the words left her mouth she wondered why in the world she’d asked. She stared into her cup as she poured, heat filling her face at the look of impassive assessment Trent gave her in response.
“No. The medical workers used to stay with families nearby, but they built the sleeping quarters you’re in a couple years ago, with small rooms for everyone.”
“Oh. Can you tell me where there’s oatmeal or something for Drew?”
“Top cupboard on the left. Spud fixes breakfast around eight. Chase runs every morning.” He leaned his back against the table and sipped his coffee. “But you probably know that.”
She did know. The man was a physical fitness nut. “How long have you worked with Chase?”
“We’ve worked together in the Philippines and Ghana. Been here a year. Both our commissions are up, but we’re hanging around until there are other surgeons here and we get new assignments.”
Did that mean Chase might not be here long? A sharp pang of dismay stabbed at her, which was both ridiculous and disturbing. Shouldn’t she feel relief instead? It would be so much better for Drew if Chase moved on before the two got too close.
“Mommy, I need food,” Drew said, fidgeting on his stool.
Lord, she had to be sure this whole mess didn’t distract her from the work she’d come to Africa to do. If she couldn’t even get Drew’s breakfast going, she was in serious trouble.
In a sign that their new, temporary home was practically made for her and Drew, two of his favorite foods sat in the cupboard. Dani microwaved the apple-flavored oatmeal and opened a box of raisins.
Trent got up and pulled some construction paper and crayons from a drawer to place them in front of Drew, poking a finger at his pajama top. “While your mom gets your breakfast, how about drawing me a picture of Spiderman climbing a wall?”
Wow, the man sure knew kids, and she wondered what Trent’s story was. Just as she was about to ask, he beat her to the questions.
“So, obviously you and Chase go back a while. Where did you meet?”
“Honduras.” Back then, her expectations for mission work had been so starry-eyed and naive. And the last thing she’d expected was to meet a hunky, dynamic doctor who’d knocked her socks off. Among other things.
Apparently, Trent expected more than a one-word answer, looking at her speculatively. It was pretty clear he wondered if her arrival was bad for Chase. Her stomach twisted. Who knew if this situation they were in was good or bad for any of them?
“I’d just finished my pediatric residency and wanted to do something important for a while,” she said, tucking raisins into the steamy oatmeal to make a smiley face. “Go where kids don’t get the kind of medical care we have at home.”
She didn’t add that she’d stayed months after her contract was up because she hadn’t been ready to say goodbye. Knew she’d never be ready. Until she was forced to be.
She slid Drew’s artwork aside to make room for his breakfast. He picked the raisins out one at a time and shoved them in his mouth. “He can’t see now! I ate his eyes!”
A smile touched Trent’s face as he watched Drew dig into his breakfast, but when he turned to Dani, his expression cooled.
“So, why didn’t you tell Chase? Frankly, I think that’s pretty lame.”
She gulped her coffee to swallow the burning ache in her chest that was anger and remorse combined.
R. C. Farrington, Jason Farrington