Healing Tides. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ Jared Steele moved through the wings of the hospital quietly, using only the softest tones to point out the treatments currently in use and the effects of some newer therapies.

      “Your success is much higher than standard hospital burn units.”

      “That’s why we’re isolated like this. The infections and viral problems rampant in hospitals and so lethal to burned children don’t occur here. The climate is perfect for healing and we are able to concentrate on our specialty.”

      “Yes.” She glanced around. “How many doctors on staff?”

      “Supposed to be four plus me. Six counting you. They come and go.” A sideways glance told her he expected her to do the same. “We’re two short at the moment so we take turns rotating shifts. That way everyone gets a break. We don’t often get a flight this late but it happens.”

      “I don’t suppose anyone can predict tragedy.”

      “There are usually three doctors on call but Dr. Xavier left suddenly this morning—family emergency. Dr. Chatter and his wife left without notice a while ago, which is why we’re short. Dr. Potter fell ill this afternoon.”

      “He has dreadful timing.”

      Dr. Steele did not see the humor.

      “You do know the highest burnout rates are among those who treat burn wounds, no pun intended.” Those frozen blue eyes constantly assessed.

      “Especially when it’s children, I know.” Glory smiled. “Suffering is difficult to watch, but it’s rewarding to see them heal and regain their lives. A hug and some encouraging words go a long way.”

      “We try for a little more than that at Agapé.” His mouth evidenced disapproval. “It’s best if you don’t allow yourself to get too close to any of the children, Dr. Cranbrook. Most of them are here for a short period of time. Personal attachment only makes the job more difficult.”

      Glory pressed her lips together. She was a doctor, she knew all about maintaining a professional distance with patients. Dr. Steele made it sound as if she’d fawn over them like some love-starved trainee. Still, he’d had two doctors walk out on him. Maybe he thought the warning was necessary.

      “Thank you for the advice,” was the best she could manage.

      She wanted to ask why the new patients weren’t suited to his grafting procedure but there wasn’t time as he moved back to the main area, showed her the operating rooms and the treatment areas complete with space-age equipment.

      “We have two physiotherapists who come from Honolulu each day. That about sums it up.” He sighed. “Your quarters are across the compound. The driver will take your luggage over. Shall I show you where you’ll stay?”

      Dr. Steele didn’t wait for her agreement but told the nurse where he was going then held open the door for Glory to pass through.

      “It’s not necessary for you to do this. But thank you.” She paused outside, let the warmth enfold her. “This is such a beautiful place. I’m sure the children must enjoy it.”

      “Hmm.” His tone didn’t welcome further comments.

      Glory walked beside him for a few minutes then tried again. “I love the water. Is it safe to swim in the sea here?”

      “Quite safe. The cove is protected, meaning the surf won’t overwhelm you. The beach and the sea are mostly private, though, of course, we can’t forbid anyone to use them.”

      “You can’t?” Intrigued at the loosening of his rigid control, Glory snuck a sideways glance. He was handsome—when he forgot to frown.

      “It’s an island law one of the Hawaiian kings made years ago and the government upholds it still. No one can own the beach in Hawaii. It is free to anyone who wishes to use it.”

      The doctor stopped beside a small bungalow.

      “This is yours.” He led her inside, pointed out a tiny kitchen, bath and bedroom and a glorious garden outside the back door.

      “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

      “Mahalo. You are safe here. Agapé’s compound is surrounded by a fence and a guard is always on duty—a security measure.” He demonstrated how to use the intercom system beside the phone.

      “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time.”

      Dr. Steele stood under the light of the entry, his blue eyes mixing with hints of silver-gray as they analyzed her.

      “You’re tired. It’s a long flight and the change in climate can take adjustment. Rest tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to learn the rules of the mission and see to the children’s needs. There are a couple of cases I’d like to discuss once you’re ready.”

      “Of course.” She inhaled, then pressed on. “I—that is, I was wondering…”

      “Yes?” He’d taken a step forward as if he could hardly wait to get away. But he paused courteously, though his face bore an impatient scowl.

      “The grafting procedure—I was wondering if you’d be doing it tomorrow.”

      “No.”

      The terse response surprised Glory into silence.

      He stepped outside, then suddenly stopped and turned back.

      “Is there anything else you need, Dr. Cranbrook?” he asked as if he’d been suddenly reminded of his manners. It was painfully obvious he wanted to be gone.

      “No, thank you. Good night, Dr. Steele.”

      “Good evening, Dr. Cranbrook.”

      Glory detested the stiff, supercilious response surgeons often demonstrated to those they considered lesser mortals, but given Dr. Steele’s reputation she supposed he had a right to be conceited.

      When he disappeared from sight, Glory stepped back inside her cottage, closed the door and twirled around in the living room, soaking in the thrill of having her own place. After sharing quarters with others for so many years to save money, privacy was something she’d come to crave.

      A wave of travel-tiredness swamped her, but GloryAnn ignored it. In the kitchen she found an insulated decanter and a mug on the counter. A plate with two pale golden cookies and a note sat waiting.

      Welcome to Hawaii. May God bless you as you minister to those who need you.

      With love, Sister Philomena.

      Glory poured out a steaming beverage, smiling at the fragrant aroma filling the air. Mint tea. Her favorite.

      “Thank you, Sister Philomena,” she murmured. “Whoever you are.” She bit into one of the cookies. Lemon. “How could you know what I love?”

      She carried it and the tea outside, into a garden filled with scents she’d only ever sniffed inside a florist’s. Strategically placed landscape lights lent an aura of peace and tranquillity.

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