New York Doc, Thailand Proposal. Dianne Drake

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СКАЧАТЬ bad. Arguments they’d never had before. Shouting. Crying. Naturally, she’d blamed Arlo for everything but, deep down, she’d always known she couldn’t hang onto him. She’d just tried ignoring it.

      Initially, Arlo’s resistance at accepting her offer, and he did resist, had been quelled by her declaration that theirs would be a friends-only situation. Sure, she’d wanted more. Which, as it had turned out, had been the case with Arlo as well. And within two weeks a cozy night when two weary surgical residents had shared a bottle of wine and a bowl of popcorn on the couch had turned into...

      Of course, there’d been early morning promises that what they’d done was a one-time thing. Except it wasn’t. For two years. Now, nearly five years down the road, while Layla was perfectly on track with her career, Arlo was the loose end she needed to tie up because she didn’t want to be alone for the rest of her life. Because she was a total washout when it came to relationships—just ask Brad, her only attempt at another relationship after Arlo. Then there was the whole ticking of the biological clock thing going on. Yet she couldn’t take that step forward because—well, she was blaming it on their lack of closure, even though they’d both known, at the start, that Arlo would eventually go one way and she another.

      It had seemed easy enough when they’d talked about it, but when the time had come, it wasn’t. Had Layla loved Arlo then? Yes, in a lot of different ways. But had she loved him enough to give up her dreams to follow his? No. Absolutely not. And neither had he been prepared to give up his dreams for her.

      So, why was she here? To be honest with herself, she’d jumped at the chance before she’d thought it through. And once she’d committed, she wasn’t going to back down. Her plan—her only plan—to earn this promotion was do everything required to move her forward.

      To back out of two months in a Thailand jungle hospital with her former lover would shove her back, not push her forward. So, here she was, feeling a lot of trepidation about Arlo’s reaction if Ollie hadn’t contacted him yet, and scared to death of a two-month commitment that, at one point in her life, might have turned into a lifetime commitment, had things worked out differently.

      As her dad always said, Whatever it takes to get you to the next level. And while Layla didn’t know if this assignment would do that, it would certainly allow her to experience a side of medicine she knew little about. That, if nothing else, was a good thing as it would help make her a better doctor. So in two months she could be a better doctor who’d finally shut the door on an old relationship. It was good. All good because she needed Ollie to see she was a team player. Sometimes she wasn’t. Layla knew her reputation—she could be a little aloof, sometimes standing alone.

      But growing up the way she had, with a photojournalist father who made documentaries all over the world, and her mother a film actress who, like her father, worked all over the world, she’d learned to be independent at a young age. Sometimes she could be too independent, which wasn’t necessarily in her best interest all the time. Even she recognized that. Although Arlo had pointed that out as well. More times than she cared to remember.

      Still, most memories Layla had of her parents were of one or both of them walking away from her, going off in pursuit of their careers, which, if nothing else, had been the impetus for her independence. Arlo walking away had simply shored up what was already there—the notion that she wasn’t worth hanging around for. And for Layla, hiding behind the stone wall of independence she’d built around herself was easier than risking another rejection. She’d assumed that over time she’d learn to be happy there. Well, happy enough.

      But sometimes the memories of a bottle of wine and a bowl of popcorn and what that had started did slip in. They hung on more tenaciously than almost any other memory of her life. And it was because of that memory Layla had been stalled in a place where there was no room for her. Where she wasn’t wanted. A place she had to fix and move beyond.

      While this trip to Thailand to work with Arlo had been providential, it was also necessary. It was her chance to prove to herself that the feelings she’d had for Arlo were simply feelings meant only for that time and place, and had no bearing on anything else in her life. Then, and even now.

      So, where was she anyway? Normally a quick check of an online map site was all Layla needed, but there was no cell reception out here, let alone a road that had been charted on a map. So she was only guessing she was headed in the right direction. A direction where she didn’t expect modern facilities, let alone the basics like running water and electricity.

      That’s what Arlo had told her he’d come from, and that’s what he’d always said would be the kind of place he would practice his medicine. He’d grown up in the jungle, traveled with his parents, who were both doctors. And it’s what he’d said he wanted for his own life as he simply fit there better. Shortly, she would see if he did.

      Layla looked ahead of her, saw a man riding atop an elephant and nearly ran herself off the road staring at him. It wasn’t the elephant that got her, though, not even the crater she swerved to avoid hitting. It was the wavering turn out of the swerve that wobbled her back and forth across the road. Unfortunately, it resulted in her landing in a drainage ditch with a flat tire, the front end down, back end up. Royally stuck and—she checked her phone even though it was pointless, and the result was what she expected—there was no way to contact anyone, anywhere.

      “Damn it,” Layla huffed, throwing her phone back into the car as she stood alone on the road, trying to figure out what to do. “No bars. Not a single, lousy blip on the bar indicator.” Her first test out here, and she was already failing it.

      After walking around her car several times, assessing and reassessing the situation, Layla finally sat down in the dirt, hoping someone would come by to help her. Someone in a truck with a tow rope, she hoped. Maybe even Arlo? But the only person who did pass was a withered little old man with a pushcart filled with fruits and herbs. He smiled graciously at her, then began a long-winded discussion, none of which she understood. After he finished speaking, he tipped his straw hat to her, picked up the hand grips of his cart and meandered on down the road at a pace that would favor a snail in a race.

      “Well, so much for that,” Layla said, deciding to hike on down the road and hope that somewhere along the way she stumbled on someone who could help her. Or maybe even stumble on the village itself.

      * * *

      An hour later, making very little progress due to the road conditions, Layla stopped to rest, sitting down on a roadside rock and watching some kind of wild pig munching the droppings of a papaya tree. And this was why she and Arlo hadn’t succeeded at their relationship. They’d talked about it ad nauseam for the last few months they’d been together. While she’d never been in the jungle, she could see it in detail through Arlo’s description. There were good people here, leading extremely hard lives, in a place where nothing came easily. Transportation was limited, according to Arlo. As were communications. It was his passion, and she didn’t condemn him for it. But it wasn’t her passion. She wasn’t the kind of person who could survive here. Even two months were beginning to seem like an eternity.

      “You and your passion, Arlo,” Layla grumbled, as she stood to resume her hike. Much to her surprise, the little man with the pushcart was coming back into view. Slowly.

      Was he coming to rescue her? Her knight in shining armor? A man with a receding hairline, bushy gray eyebrows and some wispy chin fringe?

      Naturally, when he arrived at her side, he was already chattering words she still didn’t understand. His gestures were clear, though. She was to climb into the part-empty cart and be pushed wherever he wanted to take her. “Village by the big fig tree,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t understand the English interpretation of the village’s СКАЧАТЬ