Healing Tides

by Lois Richer

  Enough was too much. GloryAnn clapped her hands.

  “Is there anyone who’d like to hear a story about a girl named Frizzy?”

  “You don’t have a book, Doc.” Germaine, a preteen from the rougher side of New York, had been burned in an altercation between gangs and now used his bravado to bully his way through treatment. “How you gonna tell this story?”

  “It’s all up here, buddy,” she told him, tapping her temple. Germaine’s role as leader was well established in the ward. She’d have to make sure his interest was captured or he’d ruin it for everybody. “Do you know anything about the Arctic, Germaine?”

  “Yeah. It’s cold.” He laughed uproariously at his own joke.

  “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s lovely and warm. Sometimes you can’t see what kind of day it is because the wind whips the snow around so you’re blind.”

  Glory kept describing the land she loved until a pin drop could be heard. Even the children that couldn’t understand English well watched with wide-open eyes as she told a story about an Inuit girl, the basis for many Arctic folk tales. When she was six, Glory had changed the Inuit name to Frizzy so she could pronounce it more easily.

  So caught up did she become in her story that she startled when a nurse touched her shoulder and pointed to the clock on the wall.

  “Goodness! That’s all for today. I’ve got to get some work done.”

  “But you didn’t finish.” Germaine’s indignation echoed the others’.

  “I’ll tell you more tomorrow. If you behave.” She shook her head at the calls for more, checked over a young girl whose pallor was worrisome, then hurried away to her office.

  Unfortunately, Dr. Steele was already there.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she panted as she reached for the first file. “Shall we begin with—” she checked the name “—Donald?”

  That glacial glare told her he wasn’t going to let it go.

  “Dr. Cranbrook, we run on a tight schedule here. We cannot—”

  Glory held up a hand. Jared blinked, obviously astounded by her interruption.

  “Am I on some kind of time clock, Dr. Steele?”

  He frowned, finally shook his head. “No, but it’s important—”

  “That I do my job the very best I can, which means in my own way, on my own timetable.”

  “Your point?” That jaw of steel didn’t bend a millimeter.

  “I’m not saying it’s all right to be late,” Glory hurried to clarify. “It isn’t and I will try to do better. But it would be helpful if you didn’t keep hounding me about every little thing. It’s going to take me a while to orientate to your schedule but I promise I will fit in. Okay?”

  Breathless at her own impudence, she waited for his acquiescence. His cold hard glare memorized every detail of her face, but he finally inclined his head.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Donald will be discharged next week. Also these three,” he said, indicating the appropriate files. “These four will be at least another month. The rest I am not sure about.” He went through each case, precisely detailing the problems, what he expected and what he wanted to see before they were released.

  “Are any of them candidates for your procedure, Doctor?”

  “No.” He rose, pulled his stethoscope from his pocket. “These will be the patients primarily in your care. If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to do this afternoon away from the mission.”

  “I’m on my own?” she squeaked.

  “Naturally not.” He pulled open the door. “Dr. Xavier’s at his cottage, on call. Dr. Potter’s gastrointestinal upset seems to have abated. He claims he’s feeling much better. He should be here in a half hour or so. I’ll make sure he stops by to introduce himself. If an emergency arises, let the desk know. Leilani can always reach me.”

  “Oh. Okay, then.”

  Glory was talking to thin air. Dr. Steele was already halfway down the corridor. Whatever he had to do this afternoon must be important.

  She spent the next few hours poring over every case, memorizing details she’d need if one of her patients took a turn for the worse. By the time Dr. Potter arrived Glory was twiddling her thumbs.

  “Bored?” a lilting English voice inquired with just a hint of jollity.

  “Well,” she began, not wanting to say it.

  “That’s the problem with living in paradise.” A salt-and-pepper head appeared in the doorway, lifted to reveal a sweetly rounded face wreathed in a smile. “As for me, I enjoy my free time by surfing, walking, sunning. I’m really just here to amuse myself until I retire. I’m Potter. Part-time anaesthesiologist, part-time attending doctor, full-time loafer.”

  “Dr. Potter, it’s so nice to meet you.” Glory accepted his hand then realized she towered over him. But as she searched his faded blue eyes it didn’t matter. He was a kindred spirit.

  “And you, my dear, though I must say I never imagined Elizabeth would find someone so young. It will be like working with my granddaughter.”

  “I hope that won’t be a problem?”

  “Hardly. I look forward to seeing your lovely face each day.” He skillfully plied her with questions, nodded as if satisfied by the answers. “Shall I give you an idea of how the place runs?”

  “Would you? I’ve already made enough faux pas. I don’t want Dr. Steele to chastise me yet again.”

  “So Jared’s been laying down the law, has he? Well, we must expect that.”

  “Why must we?” Glory asked curiously.

  Dr. Potter blinked, pulled out a pair of glasses and slid them on to study her more thoroughly. Glory had the distinct impression no one had ever questioned Jared Steele’s leadership before. Not that she was, but still.

  “Jared and his wife started the place, you know. Agapé has only been in operation for about seven years.” He chuckled, offered her a peppermint and when she declined, popped it into his own mouth. “Dr. Steele is always in charge. And when he’s not in charge, he still is.”

  “I see.”

  He picked up Joseph’s chart, clicked his teeth at the notation she’d made.

  “If there’s a change in a patient’s condition, be sure you tell Jared as soon as you next see him. He doesn’t like to miss anything.”

  “A little obsessive, is he?” she teased.

  “It’s not ego,” Dr. Potter assured her. “Jared genuinely wants the very best for every child that comes to Agapé and he won’t tolerate skimping on treatments or easing off just because it’s painful.” He shook his head, a rueful smile stretching his mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite like him. It’s as if he’s got a personal stake in every child.”

  Talk about setting yourself up for burnout. But Glory didn’t say it aloud. Instead she thanked Dr. Potter for the information, promised to meet him in the cafeteria for dinner and agreed to look at a patient he’d been tracking.

  “Dr. Steele mentioned he would be away from the mission this afternoon.”

  “Yes, he would be.” A sad look flitted across Dr. Potter’s sunburned cheeks.

  “Do you have any idea when he might return?”

  “I wouldn’t dare ask.” He rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I must see if those lab results I was waiting for have come in. I hope you enjoy your time here, Dr. Cranbrook.”

  “I will if you promise to call me Glory.”

  He nodded. “And I’m Fredrick.”

  Glory sat behind her desk feeling much like a goldfish in a bowl as she stared through the glass walls. No doubt the design was intended to allow maximum air and light into the building, but suddenly everything seemed so strange. She decided to send her friends back home a quick e-mail, but either service was sporadic or someone had forgotten to hook up her computer.

  She walked to the nurses’ station.

  “Leilani, how can I send and receive e-mail?”

  The capable nurse tut-tutted her frustration, picked up the phone and uttered some commands in a
language Glory guessed to be Hawaiian.

  “Sorry,” she apologized a few moments later. “Tomas should have replaced that router ages ago. If I don’t keep on him—”

  “Don’t worry. No rush.”

  “You must be on Hawaiian time now. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “No. I’m going to see the kids for a while. The little ones.”

  “Your heart’s with the babies, eh?” Leilani tut-tutted again. “Don’t miss afternoon tea. It always tastes like nectar after you’ve soothed the keiki.”

  On Ward C, the tiniest children were fretful. GloryAnn thought perhaps it was the heat. She lifted a fractious toddler from a nurse’s overburdened arms. He felt too warm.

  “Is the air-conditioning on?”

  “Yes, Doctor. But we don’t want to turn it too high. Three of them have a fever.”

  “Which three?” The culprits identified, Glory glanced around the room, made a decision. “Get some sheets, please.”

  The nurses obeyed though their faces displayed their skepticism. Glory spread the sheets on the floor in a corner away from the vents. She pulled two screens in to further cut off direct airflow. Then she removed all but the diaper from the eldest.

  “Dr. Steele does not allow the children to play on the floor,” the pediatric supervisor advised, her face disapproving.

  “Are you questioning my treatment?” Glory asked softly.

  They were loyal to Jared Steele and that was fine, but Glory had to make her own position clear now, before there was an emergency that would demand immediate obedience.

  “No, Doctor.” Without another word the nurse undressed two other children and set them on the sheets. They immediately stopped crying and began to crawl.

  With the help of a third nurse they used rattles and other toys as distractions to keep the children on the clean cloths.

  “You see, he’s much more settled when he isn’t bundled up.” Chubby fingers curled around hers as the golden-haired toddler pulled upright and crowed with delight. “Come on, darling. Take your first step.”

  GloryAnn played happily with the children for an hour, assessing their range of motion, the extent to which the burns impacted movement, and muscles they used as opposed to those they favored.

  “It’s nap time, Doctor.”

  She glanced up at the supervisor.

  “Okay. I’ve seen what I need to.” Glory brushed her lips against a tiny head before handing her patient to the nurse. “Ask Dr. Steele to check his heel when next he comes in, would you, please?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  Glory stayed long enough to watch the nurses tenderly dress their charges. They fed each one then tucked them in for a nap. In less than five minutes there was only the creak of a rocking chair to break the silence of the ward, and that was made by a young woman. She sat next to a crib that housed a baby in a plastic-covered cubicle. According to Dr. Steele’s notes, this seven-month-old girl had a poor prognosis for recovery.

  GloryAnn paused beside the mother, whose eyes oozed unspeakable pain.

  “We’ll keep praying for her,” Glory whispered. “She’s God’s daughter, too.”

  The mother’s tremulous smile was better payment than a thousand thanks.

  “A moment, Dr. Cranbrook.”

  Glory startled at the command. She straightened, preceded Dr. Steele from the ward.

  “Oh, you’re back,” she blurted without thinking. “How was Honolulu?”

  If anything, his face grew even grimmer.

  “I was not in Honolulu,” he snapped.

  “Oh, sorry. I thought—” His gray face looked so forbidding Glory let the comment die. “Is there something special you need to speak to me about?”

  “Babies.” His austere face frosted in the glare of the overhead lights. “On the floor.”

  “It’s not the usual practice, I admit, but it did get results.” She inclined her head toward the glass wall separating them from the nursery. “They’ve gone to sleep nicely.”

  “Placing them on the floor is totally unsuitable, Dr. Cranbrook.”

  “Unsuitable? Because it doesn’t benefit the child, in your opinion, or because it wasn’t your idea?” She was sick of playing power games.

  He drew himself to his full height, a muscle in his jaw flickered. Glory grasped his arm to stop whatever words with which he intended to censure her.

  “Look, I know you don’t like me. I’ve made too many changes, probably pushed too hard, too.” She dared not stop. “But my method did work, the sheets had been sterilized and the kids are now comfortable.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, said nothing.

  “I’m just as concerned as you that they heal.” Fully aware that she was giving away her nervousness by talking so fast, Glory pressed on. “To that end, I’d like to know where I could go to get a pool.”

  “A—what?”

  His frown would have cowed most people. But Glory couldn’t stop. She had to make him understand that she wouldn’t run away or give up simply because he was in a bad humor. She was here to do her job and she would do it no matter what.

  “A pool. Where do I get one?”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Sometimes. But at the moment I’m perfectly serious.”

  “We are a mission funded entirely by Elizabeth Wisdom’s foundation. We don’t have the kind of cash it would take to put in a pool, but even if we—”

  “Not that kind of pool.” She choked off a nervous giggle. “I’m talking about a child’s pool, the round plastic variety that we can fill with a couple of pails of water and let them splash in. The range of motion on the two babies with shoulder burns has lessened. The boy with the wound on the thigh favors his leg and the muscle tone shows it.”

  She thought his face relaxed a millimeter.

  “You think that by splashing around in the water, they’ll forget the pain, or at least shove it to the back of their minds?” Jared nodded thoughtfully. “It could work.”

  “I’d suggest the ocean but the salt would only aggravate the new skin.”

  “And there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t be compromised by whatever’s in the water,” he added thoughtfully. “Using bromide rather than chlorine would purify pool water but shouldn’t exacerbate the wounds.”

  “Then we can get a pool?” Glory held her breath, excitement building inside. “When can we go to a store?”

  Jared didn’t answer. His blue eyes peered across the hospital as if he saw something she couldn’t. When he eventually glanced her way, the icy hardness in his eyes had melted.

  “You don’t have to go to the city, Dr. Cranbrook. I believe I may know of one. I’ll check into it, shall I?”

  She nodded, delighted by his promise. “Thank you very much.”

  “I think that should be the other way around. Thank you for caring.” The beginnings of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “I apologize for hounding you. The children, Agapé—they’ve become my life. I confess I am a little overprotective.”

  “Which isn’t a bad thing.”

  While he was in such a good mood Glory decided to press her luck.

  “Dominic, the cute little guy with the black curls?” She waited, to be sure he knew which child she referred to. “His heel needs grafting. Do you think he might be a candidate for your new procedure?”

  His face darkened the way shutters blanked out the sun and the animation vanished.

  “No.” His fist clutched at the bottom of his white jacket.

  “But he’s healthy, would withstand surgery very well, I believe. Surely—”

  “I no longer do the technique, Dr. Cranbrook.”

  Glory’s jaw dropped. Her brain sent a plea Heavenward.

  Oh, God, why have You brought me here?

  “Dr. Cranbrook, you’re not hearing what I’m saying.”

  The frustration of not being able to heal Philomena, who he cared for deeply, mixed with three long nights and very little sleep
chewed at the leash Jared had imposed on himself. That combined with the racket coming from Ward B, carried by wind directly into his office, had contributed to a headache of gargantuan proportions.

  “I heard everything you said, Dr. Steele.” She grabbed his arm. “Can we please take this outside?”

  It was not a request. He followed her out of the ward and down the hall. The children’s song stopped for only a moment before one of the nurses picked up the melody and began again.

  Jared winced at her grip. Glory wasn’t taking no for an answer. He slowed down long enough to get a good look over his shoulder. The mess scattered around the room sent his blood pressure three points higher. He dug in his heels.

  “What is going on in there, Doctor?”

  “My name is Glory. Can’t you ever call me by my first name?”

  “It’s not professional.”

  She glanced around as if they’d snuck out of school for the afternoon. “Guess what? There’s no one out here to hear you.”

  He closed his eyes, forced back the incessant pounding and counted to ten. At first he’d assumed her upbeat personality would mellow the longer she was at Agapé. That had not been the case.

  “We’re making cards.”

  “Making cards?” He frowned. “Making cards for—”

  “For the children to send to their parents or sisters or whomever they want.” She pushed her hair off her glistening rosy cheeks. That faint sprinkle of perspiration gave her skin a dewy glow. Silver sparkles littered the bridge of her nose like Hollywood freckles.

  Jared ordered his brain to concentrate on business.

  “Why cards?”

  “Some of the kids are really lonely. Most of them haven’t seen their family for ages. They want to know what’s happening and they want to tell them they’re doing all right. I’ve contacted an aid agency that has promised to get the cards delivered and bring back any return mail for the kids. The only stipulation is that we must get it ready for their pickup by Friday.”

  “Do you think it’s wise to get them thinking about their missing families?”

  “I consider it essential,” she told him, her spine straightening.