At first, she was a bit worried she couldn’t handle it, but now that she was used to the work, her confidence had grown.
’See? My body isn’t as weak as everyone says. I’m doing just fine as a volunteer. Nothing’s happened to at all, hehehe...’
Just as she was lost in her own little world, a familiar voice suddenly ca from behind her, "Claire Sinclair?"
Claire Sinclair’s body stiffened. She subconsciously glanced back and blurted out, "Teacher Hartwell!"
She saw Henry Hartwell leaning on a crutch, his left foot in a cast. He was disheveled and filthy, his clothes were grimy, and the stubble on his chin was long and ssy. At first glance, you would have thought he was a beggar who had appeared out of nowhere.
If not for his familiar voice, Claire Sinclair would never have recognized him at first glance!
"Teacher Hartwell, what happened to you?"
"Claire Sinclair, what are you doing here?"
They spoke at the sa ti and began walking toward each other.
Claire Sinclair walked faster, and when she reached him, she instinctively took his arm to support him. "I just wanted to co and help the disaster victims. Teacher Hartwell, what happened to you?"
Just as she finished asking, an older woman behind them answered, "Mr. Hartwell was trying to save a child from our village and accidentally got swept away by the water. He even broke his leg when he hit a tree. He’s a true hero to our village!"
Claire Sinclair was both shocked and proud. "Wow, Teacher Hartwell! I never thought you had it in you to be so selfless and brave. When we get back, I’ll definitely nominate you for a Good Samaritan award and publish your heroic story in our newspaper!"
"That’s nonsense. Saving soone has nothing to do with being a Good Samaritan. Does Young Master Quincy know you’re here?"
"I didn’t tell him," Claire Sinclair answered truthfully.
Henry Hartwell raised an eyebrow. "If he finds out, you’d better not say I was the one who told you to co. I never told you to co to a place like this to suffer."
Claire Sinclair subconsciously glanced at the cast on his foot, feeling a bit of sympathy. "Teacher Hartwell, does your foot hurt?"
"It doesn’t really hurt, but it’s itchy. It’s inflad."
"Did you put any ointnt on it? You need to apply dicine if it’s inflad, or the wound could easily get infected."
"It’s fine..." Just as he spoke those two words, Henry Hartwell passed out.
Claire Sinclair’s heart clenched. She tried to catch him, but she was too weak and was instead pulled down to the ground with him.
"Teacher Hartwell! Teacher Hartwell! Soone, help! Sobody fainted—"
...
Henry Hartwell was taken to the temporary clinic. A doctor gave him a simple examination, and the final diagnosis was that an infected wound had caused a fever, and his collapse was due to that combined with extre exhaustion. Any other symptoms couldn’t be diagnosed at this location.
Claire Sinclair had no choice but to stay in the clinic to take care of him.
Seeing Teacher Hartwell’s mud-caked face was too much of an eyesore, so she went and collected a basin of rainwater to wash his face, hands, and feet.
’It’s a pity I don’t know how to shave. Otherwise, I’d want to get rid of his beard and ssy hair...’
Just as she was lost in thought, a woman walked in carrying a child, with a lunch box in her other hand. "Reporter Sinclair, how is Mr. Hartwell?"
"The doctor put him on an IV drip. He just fell asleep."
"Oh my, it’s just heartbreaking. Mr. Hartwell has been helping us nonstop since the very first day he ca up the mountain. He hasn’t rested at all. We told him to rest, but he wouldn’t listen. I’ve never seen soone work so hard."
Hearing this, Claire Sinclair could almost picture the scenes in her mind and was deeply moved.
’I never would have guessed Teacher Hartwell had such an endearing side to him. You really can’t tell, normally.’
"Ma’am, Teacher Hartwell really is an amazing person."
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