Rescue from Darkness Page 2

  Twenty children and adults already seen, and she hadn’t had time for more than a few sips of coffee. The winter season had arrived in South Florida, and with the cooler temperatures swept in the annual influx of transients and migrant workers.

  All patients at the Harold Donald Free Clinic.

  Belle washed her hands and eyed the pint-size patient who walked into the room. Big eyes, dark hair and a miasma of fear so thick her heart sank. Mom was the same, looking around with the mistrust Belle had seen on many of her patients.

  The father walked into the room with them, his gaze dark and stone-cold.

  A slight shiver raced down her spine. Most times the mothers, not the fathers, accompanied the children. Unlike most of her clients, he looked different.

  On instinct, she memorized the man. Pockmarked face, thin mouth, dressed in well-pressed dark trousers and a starched white shirt. A battered ball cap with a tractor-company logo hid much of his brown hair.

  Belle scanned the paperwork every parent had to fill out. Anna Rodriguez, age six. She recognized the address on the form as a local homeless shelter. No allergies to dogs, which is why they brought Anna in here instead of letting Dr. George see her.

  She gestured to the dog. “Come here.”

  Time for her pet to work her magic. Kids and dogs were like ice cream and cake. They went together.

  The dog ambled toward the new patient, who eyed him with the same mistrust she eyed Belle. Anna was small, with olive skin, clear forest green eyes tipped with long black lashes, a sweep of inky black hair and high cheekbones. Model-worthy, except she wore tattered clothing that bore faint stains. Despite the clothing, she looked healthy and well-fed. She squeezed a battered brown teddy bear, hugging it tight.

  The father frowned, looking around. “Where’s Dr. Patterson? We saw him last time.”

  “He had a family emergency and had to leave suddenly. I’m taking his patients.”

  Belle frowned. She’d asked the nurse to pull charts on all the patients, but Anna did not have one. “If she’s been here before, she should have a medical record with us.”

  The father didn’t meet her gaze. “That’s your problem if you lost her records.”

  Maybe her records were misplaced. Crouching down to eye level, Belle patted her pet.

  “Anna, come here. You can pet him. His name is Boo.”

  Anna did not move.

  Usually when her pint-size patients played with Boo, Belle would take out her stethoscope and use it to show the child. For many it was their first visit to a doctor. But Anna was stiff and showed no interest in the dog.

  Belle kept patting the dog. The man snorted. “Will this take long? I have to get back to work.”

  She knew how to deal with distrusting and impatient people. Bella offered her brightest smile and gestured to the chairs near the exam table. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Rodriguez. I promise to take good care of your daughter.”

  “Oh no, he isn’t my father,” Anna blurted out.

  At the man’s glare, Anna went quiet. He sat in the chair, and folded his arms, the mother beside him. Anna still trembled.

  Belle took her stethoscope and showed it to Anna. “This is my instrument for examining your heart. Would you like to listen?”

  Still the child did not move, nor smile.

  The mother touched her daughter’s arm and spoke in rapid Spanish. “It’s all right, mi corazón. Let the doctor examine you and we’ll go home. Remember?”

  Anna gave a jerky nod.

  Belle sat on the floor, petting her dog. “Poor Boo. He was hoping you’d like him. He’s a special pup with a special name.”

  Anna took a tentative step forward. “Like in boo-boo?”

  “Yup. That’s where he got his name. He was a stray found living in a ditch. Hold out your hand and let him smell you.”

  Boo sniffed and then licked the small palm Anna held out. Finally she smiled.

  “It tickles!”

  The man grunted. “Dogs have germs. What kind of doctor are you? Are you even a real doctor?”

  Anna’s smile dropped. She squeezed her toy harder. One thumb went into her mouth as she nibbled on the edge of a fingernail.

  “I just completed my pediatric internship last year, Mr....Rodriguez?” Belle gave him a pointed look. “Are you the child’s guardian?”

  The woman said nothing, but he gave her a level look. “I’m a friend. Rosa doesn’t speak much English, so she asked me to come here with Anna.”

  “I’ll need your name for our files.”

  “Smith,” he shot back. “John Smith.”

  Right. And I’m Pocahontas.

  Best if she could get him out of the room. Sometimes macho men responded better to other men instead of a woman doctor. And she wanted to make sure Anna wasn’t a victim of child abuse because the child was clearly fearful. Belle had set up a special procedure for that process.

  Step one: get the parents out of the room. Including the “friend.”

  “Excuse me a moment.” Belle opened the door, saw the physician’s assistant in the hallway. “Dr. George, can you come in here for a moment?”

  When the PA entered, she gestured to Smith and Rosa. “Can you go over the allergy form with Ms. Rodriguez and her friend, Mr. Smith, who helps interpret?”

  Fortunately, George didn’t need any additional hints. “I apologize. Our receptionist forgot to give you the extra paperwork. Can you please come back into the waiting room fill it out? It won’t take long, but it is complicated and I may have to help you,” George told Rosa and her friend.

  The form was long and tedious to fill out. And quite distracting.

  “Why? Why didn’t she tell me there would be more papers?” Smith asked, frowning.

  “Routine paperwork about Anna’s medical history,” George assured him.

  “I already filled that out.” The man scowled.

  “It will only take a minute. It’s to make sure the child receives the best care, and the doctor doesn’t prescribe medications that might make Anna sick in case of an allergic reaction,” George assured him.

  The man glanced at Anna and smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Come on, Rosa,” he said in Spanish.

  The woman immediately stood and went to him. Smith looked at Anna. “Your mama and I will be right back.”

  Step two: address the patient’s physical concerns.

  When they left, Belle lifted her onto the exam table. An odd odor clung to her clothing. Her nose wrinkled. The child’s clothing was wrinkled and slightly dirty, and also carried an earthy scent.

  “Anna, can I have your teddy bear? I promise you’ll get him back right away.”

  “No.” Anna hugged the toy harder. “No, don’t take Andy Bear away!”

  “It’s okay,” she crooned. “But I need you to lower him from your chest so I can hear your heart.”

  Anna shook her head. As Belle moved the stethoscope’s disc past the bear to put on Anna’s chest, the child whimpered.

  “That’s a pretty ribbon Andy Bear has,” she told Anna, moving the stethoscope away. “Did the bear come with it?”

  “No.” Anna shook her head hard and clutched the bear. “Mama cut it off an old dress for me.”

  Well, she had other methods of reassuring her patients. Belle took a paper cup filled with crayons and a sketch pad. “Why don’t you draw me a photo of Boo while I listen to your heart?”

  As the girl worked on her drawing, Belle listened to her heart and lungs. A few times Anna coughed. Then she had Anna remove her shirt and inspected her for signs of abuse.

  “Anna, has anyone ever hurt you or touched you there?” Belle made a gesture to the girl’s privates.

  Anna looked puzzled. “No.”

  “Because it’s okay to tell me. I’m a doctor and I want to help yo
u.”

  More confused looks. “No.”

  To her immense relief, she found no signs of bruises or abuse on Anna’s body. She asked more questions and became satisfied the girl was simply scared. Kids were fearful in the clinic, especially if it was their first time visiting a doctor.

  Part of her work was also diagnosing a child’s living conditions. With Smith, impatient to return to work and distrustful of doctors, she would not get real answers. The mother had been quiet.

  Judging from the dampness of Anna’s clothing, she wondered if they slept outside.

  “Did you have breakfast today, Anna?”

  “Yes. We have burritos with frijoles and cheese and eggs.”

  Well, at least she was eating. “That’s delicious. I like scrambled eggs and bacon, but I need to stick to oatmeal and fruit.” Belle patted her thin waistline. “What’s your favorite food?”

  Expecting her to name something cultural, or as simple as peanut butter and jelly, she was surprised to hear Anna blurt out, “Beef tenderloin with chipotle sauce.”

  Belle laughed. “Were you watching a food show?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “We don’t have television.”

  “Oh. So you’ve actually had medallions of beef?” Belle felt Anna’s pulse, and then her throat.

  “Yes. It was really good.”

  What a curious little girl. But her past didn’t concern Belle as much as Anna’s present. “Anna, is Mr. Smith really a family friend?”

  The girl glanced up at her. “He and my mama... Mama really likes him.”

  “Has he ever tried to hurt or touch you?” she asked.

  More confused looks. “No.”

  Belle listened to Anna’s lungs again to make sure they were clear.

  “How did your clothes get dirty?” she asked.

  Maybe the child was neglected and not abused.

  “I was playing outside and then we had to come here right away.” The child sniffled.

  Belle went to the counter to get a tongue depressor. When she turned back, Anna handed her a folded square of paper. “I tried to draw Boo,” she whispered. “Don’t look at it until you’re home. Put it on your refrigerator.”

  Smiling, Belle pocketed the drawing in her white lab coat.

  “Have you been living outside, Anna? It’s okay to tell me,” she said gently.

  The girl stared at the floor. “We were in a trailer, but had to leave. Mama was too scared to go to the shelter. We rented a tent at a park. Mama said we’ll have a new home soon with John, but it won’t be like anyplace we’ve lived because we’ll move around a lot, which makes Mama happy. She doesn’t like staying in one place. John wants to marry Mama. But we have to wait for him to get money.”

  That explained the man’s attitude. She’d seen it before in proud men who hid their shame behind anger and arrogance.

  She smiled. “That’s nice. What kind of house would you like to live in, Anna?”

  “A nice one, where I can have my own bedroom. Maybe a swing in the backyard and a garden where Mama can grow peppers.” Anna stroked the bear’s head.

  Belle felt the child’s lymph nodes. Slightly swollen. She glanced at her medical history. Missing the childhood immunizations needed for enrollment in public school.

  “Anna, where do you go to school? Around here?” She was old enough for kindergarten.

  Anna nibbled on the edge of a thumbnail. “Mama says I can go to school when John takes us to our new home.”

  Belle fished in the jar on the counter and handed Anna a lollipop. “I give all my brave patients lollipops. Do you like cherry? They’re low sugar, but yummy.”

  Anna nodded and unwrapped the treat, then sucked on it.

  A knock came at the door.

  George entered, looking apologetic, followed by Rosa and John Smith. Smith had coffee in his hands.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Doctor. She’s finished with the paperwork.”

  “Good. So am I. Dr. George, I’ll need two prescriptions, please.” She told him what they were. Belle couldn’t write prescriptions since she hadn’t completed her medical residency and lacked a medical license.

  Smith sneered. “And you call yourself a doctor?”

  Belle forced a smile. Such a disagreeable man. Part of her wanted to try to hold him here, follow through on the nagging feeling he gave her. But patients still crowded the waiting room and they were shorthanded today.

  “Anna is fine. Slight cough, upper respiratory infection. Nothing major,” Belle reassured the mother. “Dr. George is writing you a prescription for antibiotics and cough syrup.”

  New emotion flickered in the woman’s eyes. Same kind she’d seen before—shame. No money to pay the high-priced pharmacy. No need to alert everyone in the waiting room that these people couldn’t afford medicine.

  As the PA handed Belle the scripts, she gave them to Rosa. “Let’s step outside for a moment.” She offered a reassuring smile. “I could use some fresh air.”

  She walked outside the front door with Anna and her mother. Smith had already gone to the car and started it. Belle scribbled the scripts, adding a special smile face to indicate she’d foot the bill, and handed them over to Anna’s mother.

  “Take these to Skipper’s Pharmacy down the street. The medicine is good, but the prices are even better. You won’t pay.”

  Belle started to tell her about the blood work and making a follow-up appointment when a car horn blared.

  “Let’s go,” Smith yelled out the open car window.

  With a chorus of “thanks” and “bye, Boo,” the mother and daughter rushed away and climbed into the car. Belle waved as they drove off.

  On impulse, she scribbled down the license plate number of the rusting brown sedan. The bumper sagged to one side. She didn’t like Smith, but Anna clearly showed no signs of abuse. Or even neglect. Later, she’d call Rosa’s cell phone.

  After returning to the exam room, she pushed a strand of long blond hair out of her face. Fifth prescription she’d subsidized today, but she didn’t care.

  She glanced at Boo. “You didn’t need that Harry Winston diamond collar. You’re not that kind of dog.”

  Boo wagged his tail.

  If her patients could bring themselves to trust her and find a way to the free clinic, she could find a way to give them the medicine the children needed. The clinic was the only free clinic helping low income patients in the area.

  The exam table had duct tape across the cracked leather, but it sufficed. Maybe the paint was dull and the floor scuffed, but Belle had brightened the room with cartoon paintings and the ceiling was blue, studded with pink clouds and unicorns.

  It helped to have something pretty and bright for the kids to look at when they had to lie back so she could examine them.

  After examining five more patients, she took a break. This kind of work made her forget all about self-care, but nothing she could ever buy for herself equaled the pleasure felt at the end of a long day of seeing patients and knowing she helped them heal.

  Briefly she wondered about the FBI agent she’d met the other day. So handsome and striking, but growly.

  Bullet wounds would do that to you. I wonder what he’s like when he’s not in pain?

  Dismissing the man, because who had time to think about men, she sipped her water. Belle started making mental notes about supplies when the door opened.

  Her good mood evaporated. She turned away.

  “What happened to all your good manners, Clint? Did knocking go out of style?”

  Her older brother snorted. “I’m in charge of the foundation that funds this place. I don’t need to knock.”

  What a dork. Arrogant, entitled.

  Seeing Boo, he squatted down and rubbed the dog’s ears. “Hey, buddy.”

  Boo’s tail thumped the groun
d as Clint looked around. “Do you need anything?”

  Her heart softened. “We could use more tongue depressors and gloves.”

  Clint sat on the exam table, his polished leather wing tips glinting in the overhead fluorescent light. “I meant lunch. It’s after two.”

  Stomach grumbling, she shook her head. “Thanks. I’ll eat later.”

  “Belle, Belle, the self-sacrificing martyr. Well, I suppose when you get a cardiology residency, you won’t have time to eat, either.” His nose wrinkled. “But at least then you’ll be making money.”

  Belle clenched her fingers around her stethoscope. Each time Clint visited, she felt the familiar poke of guilt for failing to live up to the family standard.

  As if only making money counted.

  And why wouldn’t it? Her family legacy might as well have dollar signs on their coat of arms. Great-Grandfather was an oil baron and all the Norths after him had impressive résumés that did their families proud.

  I’m the black sheep. Tempted to open her mouth and bleat at Clint, she instead pointed to the door. “Out. I’m seeing patients.”

  Clint jumped off the table. “You should get married and have a family of your own to make Mother happy.”

  “You mean get her off your case because she hasn’t seen progeny from you?” Belle asked sweetly.

  Clint frowned, knitting his dark gold brows together. “I’m focusing on my career. Too busy to have a relationship. When was the last time you even had a date?”

  “And what about my career?” Belle inhaled a calming breath.

  “You’re the girl, Belle. Mother lives for the day she can plan your wedding.”

  Silly thing to live for. “She lives for all the charities she helps. That’s her life. Not mine.”

  He glanced around the room. “If you worked full-time with Dr. Sanders, you’d be too busy to waste your time here.”

  She had a job, working three days a week at a cardiology practice owned by her father’s golf buddy.

  But the clinic gave her the most joy.

  Her family had founded the clinic, and it operated out of the family’s foundation. Donating to charity was acceptable and expected.

  Getting up close and personal to the very people they helped? Her family still shook their heads over her decision.