Healing Tides. Lois Richer

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      “They were at an international kids’ event on Maui. Somebody thought it would be fun to douse their campfire with gasoline. The trip here didn’t do them any good.”

      One glance at Dr. Steele’s face told Glory he saw what she did—the first child didn’t have much time.

      “Leilani,” he ordered, “get another IV in if you can. Now.”

      Leilani waved over attendants, who transferred the boy onto the waiting gurney. They hurried inside.

      The second boy was wide-awake. Though he looked in pain, he managed to twist his head so he could watch the doctor who was studying his damaged face. Dr. Steele shook his head at the sacrilege, grabbed the edge of the stretcher and began to move.

      “Clean room. Stat,” he ordered, his voice harsh.

      The boy murmured something unintelligible. Dr. Steele glanced at the pilot who was trailing along beside him.

      “I can’t understand him.”

      “German. He wants to know if he’s going to die.”

      “We’re all going to die.”

      “That’s no answer.” The pilot’s lips pinched together in an angry line as the two men eased the front wheels of the rolling stretcher through the doors.

      “Tell him whatever you like.” Dr. Steele glared at the pilot’s grip on his sleeve. “Don’t they teach you to move when you’re asked?”

      “Yes, Doctor, they do. They also try to teach us a little human kindness. You should try that.”

      “Finished?” They glared at each other like leashed pit bulls.

      “Yeah, I am.”

      “Then get out of my way.” Dr. Steele pushed the boy forward, his expression implacable.

      Glory grabbed the exit door and held it open so the end of the bed wouldn’t jar. She followed doctor and patient to the clean room and began treatment automatically, wincing at the extent of the injury. No wonder Dr. Steele was angry.

      “I need to see to the first fellow.” He rested a hand on the door. “Can you manage here?”

      “Yes.” She glanced at him, recognized indecision on his face. “I’m fine. Go.”

      The boy wept silently as Glory worked. The body’s ability to tolerate shock only lasted for so long. This one had just about maxed out.

      “What did they give him?” she asked the nurse assisting her, mentally juggling protocols.

      The nurse read from the chart that had accompanied the boy.

      “Okay. Blood pressure’s still dropping. Let’s go about this in another way.” Glory issued new orders, kept one eye on the monitors and worked hard until the child’s vitals finally responded.

      Working silently, she did what had to be done, but she couldn’t stop a tear from trickling down her face, over the mask she wore.

      “Don’t move him for the next hour. Watch him and monitor everything. If nothing changes he can transfer to intensive care. Understand?” The nurse nodded. Glory stripped off her gloves and gown, stepped out of the room and headed for the first patient. “Anything I can do here?” she asked.

      Dr. Steele looked up, frowned. “The other one?”

      “Stable. Help or not?” she asked, waiting for his nod before she plunged her hands into the gloves held ready. “Where do you want me?”

      He worked frantically, blasting out orders in a terse monotone. She matched her efforts to his. If something didn’t happen fast enough he called her on it bluntly.

      Glory admired his grit. Lesser doctors might have given up after one code blue, but after three Dr. Steele continued to drive all of them to extraordinary lengths to save the life on the table. Several hours later the boy was finally stable.

      For now.

      “Okay, he’ll do. I want to see the other one now. Come with me,” he ordered, barely glancing at her.

      “Certainly, Doctor.”

      Leilani’s empathizing smile offered Glory a boost. She returned it then followed Dr. Steele.

      “Chart,” he snapped at the hovering nurse in the next room.

      While she waited, Glory completed another check of his vitals. The boy was doing well.

      Hang on, she prayed silently. Just hang on.

      “Why did you use that particular sedative?” Dr. Steele demanded suddenly.

      “I did several rotations at Sick Kids in Toronto. Dr. Lang had a study going that indicated patients had more success with this drug.”

      “Lang? Corbin Lang?”

      She nodded.

      “He’s good.” Dr. Steele closed the chart, handed it to a nurse. He touched the boy’s hand just for a moment then backed away. “It’ll take time, but right now this one looks like he might make it.”

      “I hope so.” Glory completed one last check before following him to the doorway.

      “Probably not the welcome you were expecting.”

      “That doesn’t matter. I’m just glad I could be here to help. I’ll bet he was a cute kid before all this happened.”

      His voice dropped so low she barely heard.

      “They all were.” A moment later the hint of tenderness was gone. He was all business. “Would you like to look around the wards while you’re here?”

      “Yes, if we won’t disturb anyone.”

      “Most of them are asleep by now. If we could dispense with the tour tonight it would free up some of my time in the morning.”

      “That’s fine by me. Are either of those new patients candidates for your grafting procedure?”

      “No.” The clipped answer cut off conversation.

      Dr. 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 СКАЧАТЬ