Healing Tides

“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.

Glory always stood up for the kids. He liked that about her. She’d stick in her heels and refuse to be moved from her position if she thought her kids would benefit. She seemed to have no other motive for turning his hospital upside down.

“Look. Artie’s, Charles’s and Albert’s infections could have been contagious. After I isolated them, I realized they missed having the others to talk to, to commiserate with. I got them busy writing messages to the others. They wrote back.” She shrugged, the fragile bones of her narrow shoulders outlined in the delicate white blouse. “Things sort of mushroomed from there.”

Jared smiled in spite of himself. That, more than anything, explained her personality. GloryAnn was contagious.

“Is something funny?”

He swallowed, forced himself not to pluck away the bright-red dot that perched to one side of her lips.

“Why does making cards entail so much noise?” he asked, knowing she’d have an answer ready. She always did.

“That kind of mushroomed, too.” She grinned. “I’ll get them to tone it down, I promise.”

“Don’t bother.” Surprise flared as he admitted the truth. “Almost every child in the place that’s well enough to sit up and take notice is begging me to move them into this ward. You’ve got me in a very awkward position.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry at all. In fact, she looked very pleased with herself.

Jared reached out and pulled the paper airplane from her fingers.

“This is a card?”

Dr. Cranbrook blushed.

Jared found himself amazed by the wash of rose that bloomed in her cheeks, lending her the soft romantic look of a young girl, an innocent.

Because that’s what she was, he suddenly realized. Despite her training, her experience, her knowledge, GloryAnn retained her sweetness. She was genuine. She didn’t play games, didn’t kowtow to him. She just accepted that what she was told was the truth and moved on from there, doing her best to make a difference.

She reached to take the plane from him. Big blobs of glue bubbled on the ends of her fingers, almost obliterating her clear glossy nails from sight.

“I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Jared held on, studied the intricate folds of the airplane.