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Dear Reader
When I decided to write a Medical Romance™ set in an exotic place Benin, West Africa, was an easy choice. I could still see the gripping photographs my husband had taken when he worked in a mission hospital there some years ago, and enjoyed hearing his account of the months he was there. It was interesting learning more about Benin and thinking about the kinds of people who dedicate their lives to medical work there and elsewhere.
My story’s hero is Dr Chase Bowen, who grew up in mission hospitals and is now dedicated to his patients and to the work he considers his calling. Because he knows from experience that it isn’t safe for non-native children in the countries where he works, Chase believes having a family of his own isn’t an option. Until Dr Danielle Sheridan returns to his life, bringing with her the son he didn’t know he had.
Danielle believed she was doing the best thing for her son, keeping him a secret, since Chase had made it clear he never wanted children. Now that Chase knows, can they make a new relationship work with the challenges of their careers and fears? Chase wants marriage, but Dani isn’t convinced. Then a terrifying event challenges them both.
I hope you enjoy reading CHANGED BY HIS SON’S SMILE as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Robin Gianna
CHANGED BY HIS SON’S SMILE is Robin Gianna’s debut title!
Changed By His Son’s Smile
Robin Gianna
To George, my own doctor hero husband.
Thank you for supporting me in my writing dream, for answering my endless medical questions, and for putting up with the piles of books and pens and papers and Post-it® notes that clutter our house. I love you.
For me, it takes a village to write a Medical Romance™!
Many thanks to:
Kevin Hackett, MD and Betsy Hackett, RN, DSN, for tolerating my frantic phone calls and hugely assisting me.
SO appreciate the awesome scene, Kevin!
My lovely sister-in-law, Trish Connor, MD, for her great ideas and help.
Critique partner, writer friend, and pediatric emergency physician Meta Carroll, MD, for double-checking scenes for accuracy. You’re wonderful!
The many writer friends I can’t begin to thank enough, especially Sheri, Natalie, Susan and Margaret. Without you, my bootstraps might still be laying on the floor.
My agent, Cori Deyoe of 3 Seas Literary Agency, for her tireless assistance with everything.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
THE POOR WOMAN might not be able to have more babies, but at least she wasn’t dead.
Chase Bowen’s patient stared at him with worry etched on her face as she slowly awakened from surgery.
He leaned closer, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay now. You’re going to be fine,” Chase said in Fon, the most common language in The Republic of Benin, West Africa. If she didn’t understand, he’d try again in French.
She nodded, and the deep, warm gratitude in her gaze filled his chest with an intense gratitude of his own. Times like these strengthened his appreciation for the life he had. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Chase understood why, despite their family tragedy, his parents still spent their lives doctoring the neediest of humankind.
“Her vital signs are all normal, Dr. Bowen,” the nurse anesthetist said. “Thank God. I’ve never seen hemoglobin as rock bottom as hers.”
“Yeah. Ten more minutes and it probably would’ve been too late.”
He pressed his fingers to her pulse once more and took a deep breath of satisfaction. Ectopic pregnancy from pelvic inflammatory scarring was all too frequent in this part of the world, with polygamy and the diseases that came with that culture being commonplace. He’d feared this was one of the patients who wouldn’t make it.
There’d been too many close calls lately, and Chase tried to think what else they could do about that. Their group had an ongoing grass-roots approach, trying to encourage patients to come in before their conditions were critical. But people weren’t used to relying on modern medicine to heal them. Not to mention that patients sometimes had to walk miles just to get there.
“Will there be more babies?” the woman whispered.
He couldn’t tell if the fear in her voice was because she wanted more children, or because she didn’t want to go through such an ordeal again.
“We had to close off the tube that had the baby in it,” he said, gentling his voice. “But you still have another tube, so you can probably conceive another baby, if you want one.”
Whether she was fertile or not, Chase didn’t know. But the children she did have still had their mother. He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Your little ones who came with you looked pretty worried. Soon you’ll be strong enough to go home, and they’ll be very happy to have their maman again.”
A smile touched her lips as her eyelids drifted shut. Chase left her in the capable hands of the nurse anesthetist and stripped off his gown to head outside. Moist heat wrapped around him like a soft, cottony glove as he stepped from the air-conditioned cement-block building that made do as the clinic and O.R. for the local arm of Global Physicians Coalition.
Dusk still kept that particular inch of sub-Saharan