All or Nothing

T-shirts to colorful local cloths wrapped in a timeless way. They were here for anything from vaccinations to prenatal care to HIV/AIDS treatment.

The most gut-wrenching of all? The ones here for both prenatal care and HIV treatment. There was a desperate need here and he couldn’t help everyone, but one at a time, he was doing his damnedest.

He wasn’t a Salvatore sort, but he could at least give these kids some relief in their lives. He could make sure they grew up healthy, and those that couldn’t would have a fighting chance against the HIV devastating so many lives in Africa.

Jayne placed her hand in his and stepped out of the SUV. “Interesting choice for an outing.”

“I thought since you’re a nurse, you would like to see the facility.”

“It’s so much more than I would have expected in such a rural community.”

“It feeds into the population of three villages, and there are patients who drive in from even farther.”

She shaded her eyes against the sun, turning for the full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of everything from the one-story building to storage buildings. The place even had a playground, currently packed with young kids playing a loosely organized game of soccer, kicking up a cloud of dust around them. A brindle dog bounded along with them, jumping and racing for the ball, reminding him of little Mimi.

Patients arrived in cars and on foot, some wearing westernized clothes and others in brightly colored native wear. A delivery truck and ambulance were parked off to the side. Not brand-spanking-new, but well maintained.

They’d accomplished a lot here in a few short years.

He pointed to the doctor pushing through the front double doors. Conrad had given the doc a call to be on the lookout for them. “And here’s our guide. Dr. Rowan Boothe.”

Another former Salvatore protégé.

Jayne halted Conrad with a hand on his arm. “Is it okay if we just wander around? I don’t want to get in anyone’s way or disrupt anyone’s routine.”

The doctor stopped at the end of the walkway, stethoscope around his neck, hands in the pockets of his lab coat.

“Ma’am, don’t worry about the tour. He owns the place.” Boothe said it in a way that didn’t sound like a compliment.

Not a surprise.

He and Boothe hadn’t been friends—far from it. From day one, the sanctimonious do-gooder had kept to himself. Getting a read off him had been tough. On the one hand, he’d picked fights and then on the other, Boothe damn near martyred himself working community service hours.

The doc didn’t much like Conrad, and Conrad didn’t blame him. Conrad had given Boothe hell over his do-gooder attitude. But Conrad couldn’t deny the guy’s skill and his dedication. Boothe was the perfect fit for this place, and probably even a better fit for Jayne.

Damn.

Where the hell had that come from?

Suddenly it mattered too much to him that Jayne approve of the clinic. He was starting to want her to see him as the good guy and that was dangerous ground.

Damn it all to hell. He needed distance, or before he knew it, she would start asking more questions, probing around in his past for an honorability that just wasn’t there.

“Jayne, you’re in good hands here. I’m going to tend to some business.”

* * *

Jayne’s head was spinning as fast as the test tubes in the centrifuge. Her slip-on loafers squeaked along the pristine tile floors as she turned to follow Dr. Boothe into the corridor, her tour almost complete.

One wing held a thirty-bed hospital and the other wing housed a clinic. Not overly large, but all top-of-the-line and designed for efficiency. The antibacterial scent saturated each breath she took, the familiarity of the environment wrapping her in comfort.

She’d expected Conrad to romance her today. That’s what Conrad did, big gifts and trips. He remembered her preferences from cream-filled pastries to Italian opera.

But this? He’d always seemed to think her nursing was just a job and she’d followed his lead, figuring someone else needed the job she would have taken up. She’d had plenty of money as his wife... But God, after six months, she’d become restless and by the end of the first year, she’d missed her job so much her teeth ached.

Walking down the center hall of the clinic, she couldn’t stop thinking maybe he had seen her need there at the end, that he’d been planning this for her. Had she given up on them too soon?

Dr. Rowan Boothe continued his running monologue about the facilities and their focus on childhood immunizations as well as HIV/AIDS treatment and education.

She was impressed and curious. “You and Conrad seem to know each other well. How did you meet?”

The doctor looked more like a retired model than a physician. But from what she’d heard so far, his expertise was undeniable. “We went to high school together.”

North Carolina Military Prep? Was he the kind who’d gone in hopes of joining the military or because of a near brush with the law? Asking felt...rude. And then there was the whole Salvatore issue...an off-limits question altogether. “Hmm, it’s nice when alumni can network.”

He quirked a thick blond eyebrow as they passed the pharmacy. “Yes, I was one of the ‘in trouble’ crowd who now use their powers for good instead of evil.”

“You have a sense of humor about it.”

“That surprises you?” he asked as he held open the door for her, a burst of sunshine sending sparks in front of her eyes.

“What you face here, the tragic cases, the poverty, the limited resources and crime...” She stepped onto the front walkway, shading her eyes. Where was Conrad? “How can you keep that upbeat attitude under such crushing odds?”

“People are living longer here because of this clinic. Those children playing over there would have been dead by now without it.” He gestured to a dozen or so boys kicking a soccer ball on a playground beside the clinic. “You said you’re a Hospice nurse now, an E.R. nurse before that. You of all people should understand.”

He had a point.

“You’re right, of course.” Her eyes adjusted to the stark sunshine and out there in the middle of the pack of boys, her husband joined in, kicking the soccer ball.

Laughing?

When was the last time she’d heard him laugh with something other than sarcasm? She couldn’t remember. The sound of him, the sight of him, so relaxed took her breath away. He looked...young. Or rather he looked his age, a man in his early thirties, in the prime of life. Not that he’d looked old before but he’d been so distant and unapproachable.

She glanced at Dr. Boothe. “What was he like back in high school?”

“Moody. Arrogant. He was gangly and wore glasses back then, but he was a brilliant guy and he knew it. Folks called him Mr. Wall Street, because of his dad and what he did with the stock market.” He glanced at her. “But you probably could have guessed all of that.”

She just smiled, hoping he would keep talking if she didn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t come from money like most of the guys there, and I wasn’t inordinately talented like Douglas. I had a monster chip on my shoulder. I thought I was better than those overprivileged brats. I caught a lucky break when I was sent there. I didn’t fit in so I kept my distance.” He half smiled. “The sense of humor’s a skill I acquired later.”

“Yet, Conrad brought you here. He must respect you.”

“Yeah, I guess. I have the grades, but so do a lot of doctors who want to save the world. If we’re going to be honest, I’m here because of a cookie.”

“Pardon me? I’m not sure I understand.”

“My mom used to send me these care packages full of peanut butter cookies with M&M’s baked into them. Damn, they were good.” The fond light in his eyes said more about the mother who sent the baked goods. “One day, I was in my bunk, knocking back a couple of those cookies while doing my macro-biology homework. And I looked up to find Conrad staring at those cookies like they were caviar. I knew better than to offer him one. He’d have just thrown it back in my face.”

He leaned against a porch pillar. “We were all pretty angry at life in those days. But I had my cookies and letters from Mom to get me through the days when I didn’t think I could live with the guilt of what I’d done.”

He shook his head. “But back to Conrad. About a week later, I was on my way to the cafeteria when I saw him in the visitation area with his dad. I was jealous as hell since my folks couldn’t afford to fly out to visit me—and then I realized he and his dad were fighting.”

“About what?” She couldn’t help but ask, desperate for this unfiltered look into the teenager Conrad had been during a time in his life that had so tremendously shaped the man he’d become.

“From what Conrad shouted, it was clear his father wanted him to run a scam on Troy’s parents and convince them to invest in some bogus company or another. Conrad decked his dad. It took two security guards to pull him off.”