Healing Tides. Lois Richer

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.

      “Carried away—ah, a pun.” His face itched from her wise-owl gaze. “Do I assume the entire ward will now suffer from the same infection?”

      “Don’t be ridiculous! The glass partition still keeps them apart. I wouldn’t risk another child’s health.”

      She hadn’t expected him to tease. Or thought he didn’t know how.

      “I was kidding.”

      “Oh.” She tilted her head to one side. “You don’t mind?”

      Mind? Did she think he was an ogre? Jared almost snorted at his own stupid question. What else was she supposed to think when he stomped around like a grouchy bear?

      “Apparently we’ll have to set up a bigger workshop so that any of the children who want to participate can do so after they complete their therapy.”

      It was called caving in and he didn’t mind a bit.

      “Great.” Watching her grin was like watching the sun break through after a squall. All of a sudden the world seemed kinder, gentler.

      “You didn’t go for your swim today.”

      Now she’d know he’d kept track of her movements.

      “I wanted to get those cards finished.” She glanced at her hands, began picking at the glue globs. “Did you get a chance to look at the baby that came in—after your initial assessment, I mean?”

      He nodded, more comfortable now that they’d switched to medical matters.

      “Yes. I agree with you. She bears definite signs of vitamin B12 deficiency. The tests seem to show a lack of intrinsic factor. You’ve ordered B12 shots?”

      “I have, but I’d prefer not to proceed with any other treatments that are too aggressive right now. She needs time to heal.”

      “Agreed. And the boy—what’s his name?”

      “Naphir?” She waited for his nod. “He’s going to need several surgeries to correct that back problem. I don’t know how wise it is to do much before treating that.”

      They spent several minutes discussing the problem cases. Upon reaching agreement, Glory glanced at the children, sighed.

      “I better get back. I was hoping to do an assessment of young August while he made his card for his mother.”

      “An assessment? Why?” What had he missed in the surly teenager?

      “The burn damage was confined to his right hand, correct?” Glory frowned. “But he doesn’t use his left hand properly. I ran some tests but couldn’t find an organic reason for it. I’m going to look informally.”

      “You’re thinking it’s something psychological?”

      Glory shrugged. “In the absence of a physical reason, yes. I checked his records. His brother was killed trying to save him. I thought perhaps he might be dwelling on that in some way.”

      “The shrink comes tomorrow. Ask him to talk to the boy.” He saw something flicker across her face. “What?”

      “August is very intelligent. He also knows English quite well. I think he’ll say and do all the right things, just to please us. He wants to go home badly.” She peered at him through lashes he’d first thought artificial. “I think he faked some of the tests he was given at his last psychological review.”

      “Because he wants to go home?”

      “Because he wants to be with his mother, to protect her in case something else bad happens.”

      Jared considered it. Replacing skin was much easier than following the contours of the human mind. Glory shifted and he noticed some emotion flutter across her clear skin.

      “You want me to do something.”

      She didn’t come out and say no, but he could read indecision all over her face.

      “What is it?”

      “Can you just talk to him? Nothing medical, no lectures. Just talking. Maybe man to man you might be able to find out what’s bugging him.”

      “I guess I could give it a try, though I warn you, I’m not sure I’ll be much help. Diana, my wife, always told me surgery was my forte and to stay out of human relations.” Jared gulped, stunned by the personal admission.

      He’d made it a tenet not to discuss his personal life.

      Ever.

      But Glory seemed to notice nothing untoward. She simply shrugged her narrow shoulders, studying him as if she thought he had all the answers.

      “Could you at least try?”

      He could not ignore a patient, especially not when another doctor asked him for an opinion. “I suppose.”

      “When? Tonight?” Glory asked eagerly.

      “I can’t tonight. I have to see a friend.”

      “Oh.”

      “There’s something else, isn’t there?” She’d kept back something he should know about. “What is it?”

      “I’m very worried about August’s mental state.” She bit on the fullness of her bottom lip. “It really would be great if you could find time to speak to him today.”

      Suicide. It was always a possibility with the older ones. Jared raked a hand through his hair. At least the headache was gone.

      “I’ll go now. I was going to have an early meal so I could avoid the cafeteria special tonight. Kalo is not my favorite and limu comes in a close second. I can have my sandwich later.”

      Glory’s nose wrinkled up, loosening the glitter so it rolled to the end and tumbled off, landing on her collarbone. Jared stifled his laughter.

      “What are kalo and limu?” Worry threaded the nuances of her question.

      “Taro and seaweed. They usually prepare a traditional Hawaiian meal once or twice a week. Most of the others love it but I try to be otherwise engaged.”

      “I’ll make you dinner. If you’ll see August first.”

      “That’s not necessary.”

      “No. But I like cooking. I appreciate the cafeteria but sometimes it’s nice to have something plain. Though I do love the fruits and salads here. And the flowers.” She reached out to brush her hand over red hibiscus blooms. “We don’t have anything like this at home.”