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 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