Chapter Seventeen: The English Patient

When evil Carmela laughed and pulled the trigger Catherine simply froze with fear. She wanted to be a hero, to charge the long-legged, black-haired woman with the gun. But she wasn't brave enough. Instead she threw herself sideways, wrapping her arms around Don Jose and tumbling to the ground as a shot rang out. Catherine felt a hot stabbing pain in the soft flesh of her back.

Is this how it feels to die?

The next thing she knew, bright light was filling her eyes, making her whimper in fear. Angels were looking into her soul. But then the doctor shut off the light, and Catherine realized she was not dead but in the hospital. It wasn't a happy moment. Shame battled with her overwhelming relief.

"Do not be afraid, senorita." The doctor was an Asian woman, very pretty and not much older than she was. "You are safe here. No one can hurt you anymore."

"Don Jose," Catherine whispered. Her voice was like a dry croak. "Is he all right?"

"Everything is being done," the doctor said cheerfully. "The whole island is praying for him. But you have nothing to be afraid of. The bullet passed through your shoulder and damaged some muscle. You will have much physical therapy to go through to be strong again. But you are young and brave as well as very beautiful. We saved the bullet for you if you would like proof of your courage."

"Get out." Everything was being done? Catherine wasn't brave, and she wasn't a doctor. But she knew what that meant. Don Jose was all alone, hurting bad, maybe dying. Catherine closed her eyes, but not before a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Little by little, the English patient got the story that was going around. Pretty young nurses kept popping in to adjust her pillows or change her dressings, and they loved to talk. While changing her bandages or delivering her bright blue pain pills, they often spoke of Don Jose doing this or that for their little village in the mountains or by the sea. He built the new school. He hired the new teacher. He helped girls become nurses and teachers instead of selling their bodies on the streets.

"And you risked your life to save him, and you were shot! The whole island knows you are a hero, Senorita Catherine."

"It wasn't like that," Catherine kept saying, with a weary sigh. "When can I see him? And what about Antonio? Where is he?"

"Oh, Antonio!" That was when the nurses began to giggle. And to blush. It seemed every girl on the island had a secret crush on tall, dark-eyed Antonio. He was rich, powerful, and handsome. Some said he was off hunting drug dealers in the mountains. ("They were the ones who shot you, senorita.") Others said he was praying by his sick uncle's bedside night and day. And still others said he was busy making plans to take over his uncle's vast fortune and make it even bigger. ("Just in case he dies. But of course he will not! Our doctors are so clever. We will all pray!")

Catherine didn't believe half the stories she heard. She couldn't picture Antonio praying. And she knew she hadn't been shot by drug dealers. But she did wonder where Don Jose's nephew was, and why gorgeous, arrogant Antonio never came to see her.

"It's because he blames me for Don Jose and for . . . for everything that's happened," she said one afternoon, lying in bed and talking her head off on the telephone to her friend Anne in England. Anne was the head of Cleves Cosmetics, and she was very anxious for her favorite young fashion model to come back home.

"Don't talk rot, darling!" Anne always sounded so sure of herself. "First of all, that luxurious private hospital room you're staying in, with the fresh flowers every day and gourmet meals from local restaurants, is being paid for entirely by Antonio. Second of all, Don Jose wasn't shot. You took the bullet that was meant for him. The reports I hear suggest that the poor man suffered a massive heart attack, brought on by years of unhealthy living. All that smoking and drinking, you know. All those long, black cigars!"

"But I encouraged him! The whole time we were together, I smoked and drank and did all the things Don Jose enjoyed doing. He was so easy to talk to, and so much fun to be around! I loved doing things with him, and being close to him. I guess I saw him as . . . well, almost like a father figure in a way."

"And now you're learning that fathers aren't always perfect," Anne said gently. "Baby, you've done fabulous work in the tropics. The truth is, your adventures in Puerto Tranquilo have been all over the tabloids, and you're more famous than you've ever been. Getting you back to work would do great things for Cleves Cosmetics!"

"You mean just leave? Come back to England?" Catherine felt torn by conflicting emotions. "I can't leave Don Jose! The nurses say he's just had a triple bypass, and I can't . . ."

"You'll see him again," Anne assured her. "But what's the point in hanging about? It may be weeks before he's well enough to have visitors. You don't want to be a burden to him, do you? Or to young Antonio, who's paying your bills at that private hospital?"

"No," Catherine said firmly. She had been lying down, but she sat up now, ignoring the sharp, shooting pains in her shoulder. "No, I don't ever want to be a burden to anyone. Especially not Antonio!"