Healing Tides. Lois Richer

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      “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 СКАЧАТЬ