Healing Tides. Lois Richer

is protected, meaning the surf won’t overwhelm you. The beach and the sea are mostly private, though, of course, we can’t forbid anyone to use them.”

      “You can’t?” Intrigued at the loosening of his rigid control, Glory snuck a sideways glance. He was handsome—when he forgot to frown.

      “It’s an island law one of the Hawaiian kings made years ago and the government upholds it still. No one can own the beach in Hawaii. It is free to anyone who wishes to use it.”

      The doctor stopped beside a small bungalow.

      “This is yours.” He led her inside, pointed out a tiny kitchen, bath and bedroom and a glorious garden outside the back door.

      “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

      “Mahalo. You are safe here. Agapé’s compound is surrounded by a fence and a guard is always on duty—a security measure.” He demonstrated how to use the intercom system beside the phone.

      “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time.”

      Dr. Steele stood under the light of the entry, his blue eyes mixing with hints of silver-gray as they analyzed her.

      “You’re tired. It’s a long flight and the change in climate can take adjustment. Rest tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to learn the rules of the mission and see to the children’s needs. There are a couple of cases I’d like to discuss once you’re ready.”

      “Of course.” She inhaled, then pressed on. “I—that is, I was wondering…”

      “Yes?” He’d taken a step forward as if he could hardly wait to get away. But he paused courteously, though his face bore an impatient scowl.

      “The grafting procedure—I was wondering if you’d be doing it tomorrow.”

      “No.”

      The terse response surprised Glory into silence.

      He stepped outside, then suddenly stopped and turned back.

      “Is there anything else you need, Dr. Cranbrook?” he asked as if he’d been suddenly reminded of his manners. It was painfully obvious he wanted to be gone.

      “No, thank you. Good night, Dr. Steele.”

      “Good evening, Dr. Cranbrook.”

      Glory detested the stiff, supercilious response surgeons often demonstrated to those they considered lesser mortals, but given Dr. Steele’s reputation she supposed he had a right to be conceited.

      When he disappeared from sight, Glory stepped back inside her cottage, closed the door and twirled around in the living room, soaking in the thrill of having her own place. After sharing quarters with others for so many years to save money, privacy was something she’d come to crave.

      A wave of travel-tiredness swamped her, but GloryAnn ignored it. In the kitchen she found an insulated decanter and a mug on the counter. A plate with two pale golden cookies and a note sat waiting.

      Welcome to Hawaii. May God bless you as you minister to those who need you.

      With love, Sister Philomena.

      Glory poured out a steaming beverage, smiling at the fragrant aroma filling the air. Mint tea. Her favorite.

      “Thank you, Sister Philomena,” she murmured. “Whoever you are.” She bit into one of the cookies. Lemon. “How could you know what I love?”

      She carried it and the tea outside, into a garden filled with scents she’d only ever sniffed inside a florist’s. Strategically placed landscape lights lent an aura of peace and tranquillity.

      A white wicker chair with a flowered cushion waited beside a small tinkling fountain. Glory sank into it, content to review the day’s events. But her thoughts kept returning to Jared Steele, to the craggy harshness of his face as he directed care for the two small boys.

      The snap in his response when she’d asked about the grafting troubled her. There was something he hadn’t said, something that made her wonder why the other doctors had quit.

      But more than that, she wondered why such sadness filled Dr. Steele’s eyes.

      Glory sipped her tea, peered up at the stars.

      Why did You send me here, Lord? she prayed silently. It’s obvious he’s got anger issues. He doesn’t want to talk about his grafting procedure, but I thought that’s why You wanted me to come. So what’s Your purpose for me?

      She received no response in the still silence of her heart. But that didn’t stop her from pondering why God had led her so far from home, away from her long-held goal to fulfill the deathbed promise she’d made to her mother.

      God knew how much she wanted to honor both her parents by returning to the Arctic and caring for the Inuit they loved.

      I will go back, Mom, just as soon as I can. I promise you.

      Glory had explained her delay to the elders in the village of Tiska. Everyone said they understood. They’d wished her good luck and offered a traditional Inuit blessing.

      Now, as the night breeze toyed with her hair, a yearning filled GloryAnn’s heart. Leilani seemed nice enough, but Jared Steele was cool and prickly and above all, dictatorial.

      It struck her then just how far she’d traveled from everything that was familiar.

      Despite the fragrance, the warmth, the soothing lull of the ocean tides, she longed to be back at home soon where ice and snow swathed the land in a thick pure blanket of peace. She ached to hear the howl of sled dogs fall silent and be replaced by the whistle of the Arctic wind as it seeped through the cracks of the house, soothing her to sleep. She yearned to wake to the wide generous smiles of her people, let them fill the empty aching spot in her heart.

      She’d been gone too long.

      Only six months, okay, Lord? And then I have to go back.

      Even Dr. Jared Steele, with his peremptory orders, couldn’t sway her from that goal.

      Chapter Two

      Jared glanced up from his desk through his open window to watch Dr. Cranbrook walk toward the mission.

      She occasionally paused, once to pick a small daisy that had pushed its way through the rocky soil, again to smile at a Java sparrow pecking the hardened ground. Then she studied the Kuhio vine Diana had insisted on planting on their anniversary, the first year they’d come here.

      He shoved the memory away, mouth tightening as Dr. Cranbrook lifted her face into the wind, allowing her long golden-brown hair to stream behind her. No doubt she, like most tourists, thought this was paradise.

      He knew better.

      Jared had been so impressed by GloryAnn Cranbrook’s competence yesterday he’d failed to notice how frail she was. In the blazing sunlight she now emerged pinched and pale, the big green eyes too large for her oval face, jutting cheekbones too pronounced. Would she be up to Agapé’s demands?

      Then he recalled her composure last night when he’d warned her not to get too close to the patients. Dr. Cranbrook hadn’t liked his warning, but she had managed to suppress any retort. She might look frail, but he had a hunch she could take whatever was dished out. Good. She might stay a little longer.

      She stood statue still, staring out over the water.

      GloryAnn—an unusual name but it suited her. Captivated by her look of perfect peace, Jared realized he hadn’t felt that way himself for a long time—three years, in fact.

      “Hang on to it as long as you can,” he wanted to tell her. “What you’ll see here will steal your peace away and you’ll never feel it again.”

      But he could hardly say that to Elizabeth’s newest protégée. So Jared gathered up his files and waited at the main desk for Dr. Cranbrook to push through the doors.

      “Good