“And you, my dear, though I must say I never imagined Elizabeth would find someone so young. It will be like working with my granddaughter.”
“I hope that won’t be a problem?”
“Hardly. I look forward to seeing your lovely face each day.” He skillfully plied her with questions, nodded as if satisfied by the answers. “Shall I give you an idea of how the place runs?”
“Would you? I’ve already made enough faux pas. I don’t want Dr. Steele to chastise me yet again.”
“So Jared’s been laying down the law, has he? Well, we must expect that.”
“Why must we?” Glory asked curiously.
Dr. Potter blinked, pulled out a pair of glasses and slid them on to study her more thoroughly. Glory had the distinct impression no one had ever questioned Jared Steele’s leadership before. Not that she was, but still.
“Jared and his wife started the place, you know. Agapé has only been in operation for about seven years.” He chuckled, offered her a peppermint and when she declined, popped it into his own mouth. “Dr. Steele is always in charge. And when he’s not in charge, he still is.”
“I see.”
He picked up Joseph’s chart, clicked his teeth at the notation she’d made.
“If there’s a change in a patient’s condition, be sure you tell Jared as soon as you next see him. He doesn’t like to miss anything.”
“A little obsessive, is he?” she teased.
“It’s not ego,” Dr. Potter assured her. “Jared genuinely wants the very best for every child that comes to Agapé and he won’t tolerate skimping on treatments or easing off just because it’s painful.” He shook his head, a rueful smile stretching his mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite like him. It’s as if he’s got a personal stake in every child.”
Talk about setting yourself up for burnout. But Glory didn’t say it aloud. Instead she thanked Dr. Potter for the information, promised to meet him in the cafeteria for dinner and agreed to look at a patient he’d been tracking.
“Dr. Steele mentioned he would be away from the mission this afternoon.”
“Yes, he would be.” A sad look flitted across Dr. Potter’s sunburned cheeks.
“Do you have any idea when he might return?”
“I wouldn’t dare ask.” He rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I must see if those lab results I was waiting for have come in. I hope you enjoy your time here, Dr. Cranbrook.”
“I will if you promise to call me Glory.”
He nodded. “And I’m Fredrick.”
Glory sat behind her desk feeling much like a goldfish in a bowl as she stared through the glass walls. No doubt the design was intended to allow maximum air and light into the building, but suddenly everything seemed so strange. She decided to send her friends back home a quick e-mail, but either service was sporadic or someone had forgotten to hook up her computer.
She walked to the nurses’ station.
“Leilani, how can I send and receive e-mail?”
The capable nurse tut-tutted her frustration, picked up the phone and uttered some commands in a language Glory guessed to be Hawaiian.
“Sorry,” she apologized a few moments later. “Tomas should have replaced that router ages ago. If I don’t keep on him—”
“Don’t worry. No rush.”
“You must be on Hawaiian time now. Anything else I can help you with?”
“No. I’m going to see the kids for a while. The little ones.”
“Your heart’s with the babies, eh?” Leilani tut-tutted again. “Don’t miss afternoon tea. It always tastes like nectar after you’ve soothed the keiki.”
On Ward C, the tiniest children were fretful. GloryAnn thought perhaps it was the heat. She lifted a fractious toddler from a nurse’s overburdened arms. He felt too warm.
“Is the air-conditioning on?”
“Yes, Doctor. But we don’t want to turn it too high. Three of them have a fever.”
“Which three?” The culprits identified, Glory glanced around the room, made a decision. “Get some sheets, please.”
The nurses obeyed though their faces displayed their skepticism. Glory spread the sheets on the floor in a corner away from the vents. She pulled two screens in to further cut off direct airflow. Then she removed all but the diaper from the eldest.
“Dr. Steele does not allow the children to play on the floor,” the pediatric supervisor advised, her face disapproving.
“Are you questioning my treatment?” Glory asked softly.
They were loyal to Jared Steele and that was fine, but Glory had to make her own position clear now, before there was an emergency that would demand immediate obedience.
“No, Doctor.” Without another word the nurse undressed two other children and set them on the sheets. They immediately stopped crying and began to crawl.
With the help of a third nurse they used rattles and other toys as distractions to keep the children on the clean cloths.
“You see, he’s much more settled when he isn’t bundled up.” Chubby fingers curled around hers as the golden-haired toddler pulled upright and crowed with delight. “Come on, darling. Take your first step.”
GloryAnn played happily with the children for an hour, assessing their range of motion, the extent to which the burns impacted movement, and muscles they used as opposed to those they favored.
“It’s nap time, Doctor.”
She glanced up at the supervisor.
“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,