Chapter Ten

RUDY

In my heart, Jaime is the daughter I was never able to have. She has sought my advice often, listened carefully and then promptly ignored it – exactly as I'd imagine a 'real' daughter would do. Some of my colleagues would protest that I've allowed myself to become too close to my patient. When I saw Jaime lying on the jungle floor, underneath that tree, for the first time I wondered if they might have been at least partially correct. I could feel the "father's heart" within me shattering, even while the doctor kicked into auto-pilot and did what needed to be done.

Jaime's condition was critical. I wasn't even certain that she'd make it back to the house. Her body was trying desperately to overcompensate for the loss of energy to her arm and the subsequent erratic functioning of her legs. Because of this struggle and due to the time she'd spent unconscious in the jungle, her lungs were rapidly filling with fluid and her heart was straining to keep any sort of normal pacing. To put it as simply as possible (because I'm told I have a tendency not to 'speak normal English'), Jaime's entire body had gone haywire. I tried to give the others some sense of hope, but privately, I didn't think she'd survive the first night.

Replacing the faulty power pack was not a problem. I don't think it failed due to weather conditions or bad circuitry; it was just time for it to be replaced – about two months ago. I don't ask Jaime and Steve to come in for their '10,000 mile check-ups' just because I miss them. Like any sort of technological or mechanical units, their bionic parts need regular service to remain functional. I'm just sorry Jaime had to learn that the hard way.

The problem after the power pack replacement was in trying to regain normal equilibrium for her biological body. The fact that she woke up much sooner than I'd expected was a wonderful sign, but she wasn't fully conscious – not really. Her heart rate stabilized but the rhythm remained weak. I gave her several doses of the antibiotic I'd brought in my kit until Oscar's friend returned with the supplies and I was able to give her something stronger to counteract what I believed to be pneumonia. Her chances were beginning to improve, but they were nowhere near the 50-50 that I'd quoted Steve.

I'd given Jaime all that medicine and science could offer for her condition, and one other thing as well: the love that lies in a father's heart. It was time to see if she had any fight left.

- - -

OSCAR

Rudy kept a close eye on Jaime, especially through that first very rough night. He probably got no more than an hour or two of total sleep, dozing upright in that chair. I pride myself on being able to read almost anyone, even people I don't know, and I've known Rudy for many, many years. There was a dark, troubling look in his eyes that he wouldn't (or couldn't) allow himself to put into words. Steve and I had both tried to remain hopeful because the alternative was unthinkable, and it was quite kind of Rudy to allow us to keep that hope even when he didn't harbor it himself.

The next morning, the sun was shining brightly through the front windows and I was beginning to see just why Jaime had chosen this place to settle down in and make a home for herself. I made a pot of coffee and stood at the window, counting at least half a dozen different species of birds that would have been close enough to touch from the front of the house. There was even a trio of monkeys chasing each other as they swung across the maze of leaves and vines. Then Rudy poked his head out of Jaime's bedroom...and nothing else mattered.

"She's awake, Gentlemen," he said jubilantly. "And she's asking for you." Steve and I looked at each other with uncertainty, and Rudy smiled. "Both of you," he affirmed.

Jaime was lying back in a nest of pillows. Her face was still quite pale and we could hear her breath fighting its way in and out of her chest. "Hi there," Steve told her in a slow, laconic voice.

"Good morning," I added for good measure.

Jaime managed a slight smile, her eyes traveling the room and stopping to rest briefly on each of us. When she finally spoke, her voice was thin and a little bit shaky but the tone was clear and strong.

"Where's Chris?"

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