Child of Her Dreams. Joan Kilby
story blared in inch-high black print: Supermodel Collapses on Milan Runway—Miraculous Return From the Dead.
A photo, obviously taken before the model’s collapse, showed her draped in designer clothing and glittering with diamonds against a backdrop of an Italian palazzo.
“Will you look at that?” Ben said, shaking his head in disgust. Evidence of excess always raised his ire on behalf of his poverty-stricken patients. “That dress alone would likely supply vaccine for the whole western highland. Look how thin she is. No wonder she collapsed. I’ll bet she pops diet pills as if they were candy, then lets men take her to expensive restaurants and doesn’t eat. Meanwhile, kids here are literally starving.”
Eddie glanced over his shoulder at the newspaper. “She doesn’t look too good now.”
It was true. Below the first photo was an after shot of the woman in a hospital gown whose voluminous folds accentuated her prominent bones and gaunt features.
Like death warmed over, Ben judged grimly, and felt a spark of compassion. As ill as she looked, her beauty shone through, ghostlike and fragile, and something about her face compelled his attention. The farseeing expression in her tilted blue eyes seemed to hint at some profound knowledge. Life, the universe and everything, to quote a favorite author from his med-school days.
Losing interest, Eddie went to sprawl on the couch. “What else can you tell me about the place?” he asked, sipping his beer.
Ben tossed the paper aside, dismissing his ruminations as fanciful. A woman like that probably didn’t have two ideas to rub together, let alone any magic answers.
“Let’s see…” He sat on a wooden chair and tilted back at a precarious angle, sipping his beer. “Quezaltenango is the nearest big town—most Anglos around here refer to it as Quez. There are quite a few ex-pats scattered over this general area, a French doctor a couple of villages away, some nurses, teachers, agricultural aid workers, missionaries. You won’t lack companionship.”
“Hey, you don’t need to sell it to me. If you like it so much, how come you’re leaving?” Eddie asked.
“For one thing, International Médicos stipulates a maximum two-year contract, which you should know having just signed on. For another thing…”
Ben pushed to his feet and stood before the window. “I had a thing going with this British nurse, Penny. She was only here for a year. We both knew from the beginning it wasn’t going to last.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Ben shrugged and faced Eddie. “I’m tired of moving around, tired of temporary liaisons. I’m thirty-five. I’m ready to settle down.”
“Will you go back to Texas?”
“No, I’ve arranged a temporary job through a guy I went to med school with. He’s at Seattle City Hospital now and knows a GP in a small town north of there who’s looking for someone to take over his practice while he goes on sabbatical. Hainesville. Ever heard of it?”
Eddie thought for a moment then shook his head. “It’s probably just a dot on the map.”
Ben laughed. “As opposed to this bustling metropolis. The first thing I’m going to do when I get back is buy myself a hamburger with everything on it and a great big chocolate milk shake.” He turned to the window, filled with yearning for the good ol’ U.S. of A. “I don’t know why, but I have a feeling Hainesville will suit me just fine.”
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you, happy birthday to you…”
Geena basked in the glow of the candlelit faces around Gran’s kitchen table as her sisters and their families helped her celebrate her twenty-ninth birthday. There were Kelly and Max and their four daughters, and Erin and Nick with Erin’s baby son and Nick’s teenage daughter. And of course Gran, looking smaller than Geena remembered, in her full gray wig and oversize blue plastic glasses but fighting fit despite her seventy-six years.
A month had passed since Geena’s collapse. She’d spent a week in the Milan hospital, followed by two weeks in a Swiss convalescent home, then a week in New York to pack her things and sublet her apartment. Finally, she was home, and it felt good.
Geena made a wish and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered. Kelly gave Geena an impromptu hug, her shiny brown hair swinging around her shoulders. “It’s good to have you with us, Gee, especially for your birthday.”
“What did you wish for, Auntie Geena?” asked Beth, Kelly’s eight-year-old daughter.
“Can’t tell, or it won’t come true,” Geena said, smiling as she cut the cake and passed it around. Gran opened the curtains, and afternoon sun poured in. Erin tucked her long blond hair behind her ears and attempted to dish out ice cream one handed while holding the baby.
“Let me take Erik,” Geena said, and reached for her nephew. She cuddled the baby in the crook of her arm and stroked the back of her finger down one soft cheek. “Hello, gorgeous.”
Magazine publishers paid thousands for Geena’s smile, but to her, Erik’s toothless grin was priceless. His innocent blue eyes, so trusting and sweet, stirred her maternal instincts. Would her wish—and her mother’s prediction—come true?
“Do you want chocolate or vanilla ice cream with your cake, Geena?” Erin asked, holding the scoop poised above the tubs of Sara Lee.
“Nothing for me, thanks.” She’d already pigged out on green salad and half a grilled chicken breast.
“What? Not even cake?”
“I’m going back to modeling once I’ve recovered completely. I can’t afford to gain weight.”
“But, Geena,” three-year-old Tammy said. “You’re skinnier than a Halloween skeleton.”
Kelly, who’d taken over serving the cake, frowned across the table at Tammy. “Shh, honey, that’s not polite.”
“It’s okay, Kel. She only wanted to make me feel better. Didn’t you, sweetie?” she said, stroking the girl’s long blond hair.
Geena saw her sisters exchange glances, and an awkward silence fell over the group. What the heck was bugging everyone?
Nick swallowed the last of his cake and pushed back from the table. “Hey, Max, want to go shoot a few hoops?”
“Sure thing.” Max, Kelly’s husband, set aside his empty plate. “It’s been a while since I whupped your ass.”
“Take your cake outside to the picnic table, girls,” Kelly said, shooing her brood through the back door.
Miranda, Erin’s stepdaughter, hovered in the doorway. At thirteen she often got lumped with the other kids when she wanted to be one of the women. She had auburn hair and a tiny stud in her nose.
“Come and sit down,” Geena said, patting the chair next to her.
Miranda, who was into clothes and adored her supermodel aunt, threw her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
Erin set Erik in his car carrier seat and found a rattle to amuse him. Gran took up her knitting from the sideboard, and Kelly, never one to sit still for long, started to clear away dishes.
“Relax, Kelly,” Geena said. “I’ll do that later.”
“I don’t mind,” Kelly said, stacking plates in the dishwasher while the water ran in the sink for the pots from their barbecue lunch. Geena, realizing that Kelly wouldn’t sit down, got up to help.
“Have you seen the doctor yet, Geena?” Erin asked, spooning up the last blob of chocolate ice cream from her plate.
Geena searched the drawers for a tea towel. “No, I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Cameron tomorrow.”
“Dr. Cameron’s in Australia till Christmas,” Miranda informed her dolefully.
“Dr.