Page 32 of The Grumpy Doc's Surprise Delivery

We head out to the bus, and to our surprise, it’s sitting waiting for us, several people already on board. We board without an issue and hit the road towards the hills where the rainforest stretches out endlessly. The bus creaks and vibrates, and Emma sits there clenching her fists as if she’s scared that the whole bus is going to disintegrate around us.

I can understand why she thinks that, but I hardly think they’d sent us up here in something that’s going to actively fall apart. Then again, I could be wrong. If the room mix-up on our first day was anything to go by, standards could definitely be improved.

When I think that thought, I catch myself and wince a little, feeling the imaginary Emma in my head giving me a look of disapproval. Then I frown at the idea of having an imaginary Emma in my head. She has well and truly wormed her way into my brain. Worrying.

As inconspicuously as I can, I let my hand fall between us, brushing against hers as if to take it. I want to offer her an act of comfort, something to hold on to if she’s scared. I want her to feel safe when she’s near me.

But she pulls her hand away and puts it in her lap, leaving me with a burning ache in my palm for where her hand should be.

When we get there, about half a dozen other people get off the bus with us. There’s a small hut with a restroom and more leaflets and maps inside. Emma ducks in to grab her map, and I stand waiting. The trail is clearly marked and the path is well-defined, so I don’t think we need it. But if it makes her happier to hold a map, then who am I to stop her?

“Come on.” She grins as she emerges again, a huge, glossy rectangle in her hands. “Let’s go.” She gestures for me to follow, and I do without complaint. A first for me.

This time, instead of hating everything, I take a moment to look up at the trees. The sun blinks in and out through the branches, a sparkling gem that makes the shadows ripple and blur at our feet. The air is damp, so damp that it fills my lungs with moisture, but it comes with a green smell, the scent of wildflowers, trees and nature, and I’m pretty sure I can hear a river too.

I make a mental note that it might be a nice place to stop for a few minutes if we see it. Maybe we’re not quite prepared for a picnic, but a rest is good too.

Birds flutter and squawk around us, and the insects scream from their perches, and rustling in the undergrowth makes me shiver. “There aren’t any snakes here, are there?” I say.

Emma gives me a dubious look. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were. You get snakes everywhere.”

“I hate snakes,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Why? Some of them are cute.”

“Cute?” I scoff. “Do you know how many snakes are venomous?” She shakes her head slowly as if that’s something she’s never stopped to consider before. “At least six hundred. And you know how many kill people?”

Emma shakes her head again. “No. I don’t know how many could kill a person.”

“It’s at least two hundred. The worst of them will kill you in minutes.”

“Why do you know that?” she laughs.

I shrug. “I’m a doctor. It’s my job to know stuff.”

“Yeah, about people, not about snakes.”

I shrug again, not knowing what to say to that. It’s one of those interesting facts that you can throw out at a party, and people look at you like they’re impressed. I know way too many of those.

“How’s your ankle?” I ask, changing the subject. It’s starting to feel a little too much like she’s getting to know me.

“It’s fine,” she says. “I can barely feel it. Stop worrying about me and start looking at the trees.”

“I am looking at the trees,” I tell her. “But I’m also looking at you. I don’t want to carry you out of the forest again.”

“You did not carry me out,” she huffs. “I couldn’t walk well, but I wasn’tcarried.”

“Okay,” I say, agreeing with her because it feels easier than arguing.

She sets her mouth in a tight line and glares at me. “I’m fine, I promise. I’ll tell you if I want to stop, but I don’t. In about half a mile, we’ll reach the river. Let’s get there and stop for a while. I bet it’s gorgeous.”

“I bet,” I echo, wondering how exactly it is that she managed to get inside my head and speak aloud what I was thinking.

We don’t say much else until we reach the river. We can hear it before we see it, its quick currents rushing through the landscape, the water reaching a crescendo until we turn and see it marking out its path.

“Wow,” breathes Emma.

“Wow,” I agree.

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