The story tugged at her heart. She had assumed the woman was the boy’s mother. “That’s awful.”
Diana agreed. “Leave it to Rufus to cheer him up, though. There’s nothing quite so healing as the love of a dog,” she wisely imparted.
Rufus looked up at Tessa then, his soulful eyes wide. It was then that Tessa had an idea. One that would not only benefit the hospital’s patients but maybe soften Noah, as well. It wasn’t her job to banish his demons—she knew that. But she’d been hired to elevate goodwill and recognition for the hospital. How could she promote a doctor who didn’t believe there was hope, especially for himself? She had to help Noah see there was value in promoting his work and the hospital’s programs. And Diana had just given her a clue on how to do it.
“Diana, you’re brilliant.”
The older woman threw her a glance. “Well, thank you, honey. I think you’re pretty special, too.”
“I’ve gotta go. Maybe I can swing by this weekend and help you guys out.”
She clipped Rufus’s leash on and hurried toward the doors.
“That would be great, honey. How about Saturday?” Diana called after her, and Tessa gave her a thumbs-up. But she was already pulling her cell phone from her pocket as she stepped outside, thumbing through the contacts for Ana’s number. She knew she should probably wait and speak with her boss in person, but she didn’t want to lose a minute on this idea.
* * *
NOAH KNEW SOMETHING was amiss from the moment he stepped off the elevator to begin his shift. During the day, the pediatric oncology ward usually had a constant background noise, including the hum of conversation, the beep and buzz of hospital equipment, but also children’s chatter and laughter. It never ceased to amaze him, the resiliency of children. Even while they were in a battle for their lives, kids managed to smile, to laugh, to remain upbeat no matter what they faced. That was not to say they weren’t afraid. Noah was well acquainted with the fear they experienced daily. But somehow, they managed to find tiny things to be happy about.
Ginny had been the same way. He and Julia lost their smiles long before she did. They scraped together just enough optimism to keep up a hopeful front for their daughter. But Ginny had seen through them. She was the one who had often worked at holding them together. Even when she was dying, the disease taking over her body by insistent inches, she’d done her best to smile.
“Sing to me, Daddy,” she used to say.
She loved “Itsy-Bitsy Spider” even after she had long outgrown it. She liked to see him do the hand motions, and she would laugh when his fingers inevitably tangled together. He swallowed hard at the memory. He would give anything, all that he owned and more, just to hear Ginny laugh one more time.
But today the ward was too quiet. He cocked his head, listening, and there was noise—it was just concentrated to a single area. What in the world was going on?
He checked his phone as he stepped down the hall, drifting toward the sound with a mild curiosity. When the nurses’ station came into view, he found it empty. Where had all his staff disappeared to?
A few more steps, and he had his answer. A crowd had formed in the children’s playroom area. The room was full of people, and a few were even spilling out into the hall. He experienced a moment’s panic. Had something happened to one of his patients? Why hadn’t he been called? And why was everyone congregating here?
He began pushing through the crowd, not bothering to apologize. The group shifted around him, and he heard a few people offer greetings, but he ignored them. If one of the kids was in trouble...
He emerged from the edge of the crowd into an open area of the playroom. No one was hurt or in need of care. On the contrary, the group of kids huddled on the floor were all smiling. His gaze shifted to Tessa Worth. She was seated beside the kids, her face beaming. She hadn’t seen him, but his heart jerked at the sight of her. How was it that this woman was upending his carefully ordered world at every turn?
He was just about to ask what was going on when he saw...it. He blinked, disbelieving. No. She couldn’t have... No one had informed him... He narrowed his eyes as the children giggled. But there was no denying what was right in front of him. The dog, a mixed breed resembling a border collie, was wagging her tail and preening with all the attention. How many pets did this woman own? And what made her think it was okay to bring them into his hospital?
He cleared his throat. “Ms. Worth.” He finally had her attention. “Perhaps I could have a word?”
She smiled, but it looked uneasy.
“Of course,” she said. She turned to someone, a woman he didn’t recognize. “Linda, if you or Viva need anything, just let one of the nurses know.”
The woman nodded and then turned her attention back to the dog. Noah belatedly realized that Linda must be the animal’s owner. So apparently the dog did not belong to Tessa after all. It was a minor point, he decided, as he took her arm to steer her through the crowd.
It was a mistake to touch her. He was all too aware of the softness of her skin beneath his palm. It wasn’t until they were past the group that he realized how tightly he held her. As if she had suddenly realized it, too, she tugged her arm free.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Brennan?” she asked, a trifle too sweetly.
He didn’t want to discuss the situation in the hall. They were still too near to the crowd, and he didn’t relish a repeat of the previous week’s performance, when their argument had grown all too heated within full view of the staff and patients.
“I would appreciate it if you’d accompany me to Ana’s office,” he stated, doing his best to keep his tone professional.
She frowned. “If you like.”
He turned and started in the direction of the elevator. He sensed her follow. They were silent as they waited for the elevator, the tension growing with every second that passed. His ire built.
“How long have you had this planned?” he asked as the elevator car arrived.
“What do you mean?” she replied, too lightly.
He stepped inside the elevator, and after a beat, she followed. They rode to the first floor in silence, making their way across the atrium and into the office area. He walked up to Ana’s door and with a perfunctory knock, swung it wide.
Ana looked up from where she was seated at her desk, a pen hovering over whatever notes she’d been making. If she was startled by the intrusion, she didn’t show it.
“Noah,” she greeted and then shifted her attention. “Tessa. How are you both today?”
He didn’t waste time with niceties.
“There is a dog in my cancer ward.”
Ana blinked.
“A therapy dog,” Tessa put in. “Like we discussed.”
Ana and Tessa shared what he could only describe as “a look” with some sort of secret communication passing between them.
“I wasn’t informed about any sort of therapy dogs. Because if I had been, I would have pointed out that studies show there is very little benefit to having animals in a cancer ward. It is possible they might even do more harm than good, by bringing in outside germs—”
“Those studies also admit that the presence of pets lowers cortisol levels and takes the patients’ minds off the stressors of their treatment,” Tessa cut him off. “I contacted the national Alliance of Therapy Dogs to find a properly trained animal, and they recommended Linda and Viva to us. ATD is well aware of the requirements of medical facilities, and their members are required to go through the necessary clearances in addition