Healing Tides. Lois Richer

      A new respect filled him. “Fire away.”

      “I know you like to remove the burned tissue as quickly as possible because that’s where infection likes to grow.”

      “Yes.”

      “But I’ve never seen debrading done the way you did this morning. Can you explain it to me?”

      Jared explained the process he preferred.

      “I’m sure you know that with current procedures it’s difficult for surgeons to tell which tissue is dead and needs to be removed and which is still alive and can heal on its own.”

      “Yes.”

      “If you’ve removed more than you need to, that makes it harder for the graft to take. It doesn’t heal as well.”

      “So that machine you were using…?” She lifted an eyebrow.

      “It combines laser and radar systems—hence the name lidar. It’s something we’ve been working with for a medical research company—trying to perfect.” He babbled on about his work, fascinated by the bloom of color on her cheeks. She was lovely.

      “Amazing,” she enthused, her smile flashing.

      “It is,” he admitted. “But it could be even better.” He went on to explain the alterations needed. “If they could perfect it, the agony of debrading would become a thing of the past.”

      “Which would be a blessing for all of us,” she muttered, making a face. Her head lifted. “But you can’t do that yet.”

      “No.” He swallowed a mouthful of hot black coffee before explaining the need for a laser component.

      “What you were doing today with the little girl—active triangulation?”

      “Yes.” He was surprised by her knowledge. “It’s good but prone to errors because light tends to scatter inside the tissue.” Jared finished munching on his apple. No point in boring her with his special interest.

      “The new machine would be useful for assessing other types of tissue damage?” Those eyes blazed with life, drawing him into them as she spoke.

      “Yes.”

      “Wow!”

      Her enthusiasm charmed.

      “It has great potential but it isn’t perfected yet, so don’t start planning any expansions for the mission. Hopefully we’ll see some advances soon.” He placed the apple core on his plate, noticed the sack at her feet. “Shopping already, Dr. Cranbrook?”

      “It’s Glory. Or GloryAnn if you must be formal.” She glanced at the bag. “I brought a few things from home—for the patients.”

      “Things?”

      “Toys, noisemakers, a couple of handheld games. Stuff like that.”

      Oh, brother. “Hardly appropriate for Agapé, Doctor.”

      “Are you kidding me?” GloryAnn surged to her feet, picked up the bag and rattled it. “It’s quite appropriate. I’ve never seen a place more in need of a little joy.”

      He would have interrupted but she held up her hand.

      “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to criticize your work, Dr. Steele. I know it is necessary and is helping the kids. But I can’t imagine why your last pediatrician didn’t suggest doing something to animate the children.”

      “We haven’t had a resident pediatrician on staff for over a year. The last one stayed three weeks. They want everything to be jolly and happy and when it isn’t, they don’t seem able to withstand the demands this kind of work requires.”

      Okay, he could have worded that differently, but she’d been here for less than twenty-four hours and she was ready to change all he and Diana had worked so hard to achieve. The knowledge grated like seawater in a wound.

      “Maybe you should have hired a different pediatrician,” she mused aloud. “I admire your new technology, Doctor. I’ve seen you work and I know you’re diligent and precise. But my purpose in being here is to look after the kids’ needs, mental and physical, beyond their burns. I believe they need a few old-fashioned toys.”

      She picked up her tray, paused for a moment. Her face softened, her gaze followed a patient being wheeled along one of the paths.

      “I have to start somewhere,” she murmured.

      Jared’s temper flared as he watched her leave the cafeteria. The casual inference that he hadn’t done his best for his patients irritated him immensely. He rose, pushed his tray onto the appropriate rack and followed her, quickly catching up.

      “Dr. Cranbrook.”

      “Yes, Dr. Steele.” She stopped, lifted one eyebrow in that imperious manner that probably worked well with bratty five-year-olds but simply annoyed him.

      “I do not want noisemakers in my hospital.”

      She stared at him. One corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile, as if she’d caught him out in some prank.

      “Your hospital?”

      Jared swallowed.

      “At Agapé, I mean. I guess I think of it as mine because I’ve been here so long.”

      “Fresh ideas don’t hurt.”

      Meaning he was a stick-in-the-mud, afraid of innovation?

      “No, they don’t. But rest is important for these patients. The treatments are grueling, the issue of facing what they look like now can be extremely traumatic.”

      “Exactly, which is why anything we can do to ease their stress levels, to make them feel normal, is important.” She frowned. “Why are you fighting this, Doctor? Surely you must be aware of the connection between positive thinking and the healing powers of the mind.”

      “Of course. I’m also aware of the benefits of solitude, rest and recuperation and that too much excitement can lead to overexertion and setbacks.”

      “I’m not talking about too much anything.”

      Though he felt a fool for calling her tactics into question, Jared refused to back down. He’d gone through this before with eager beavers and it always ended badly. The children always lost. That couldn’t happen again.

      “I’m chief of staff, Dr. Cranbrook. These children are my responsibility and I don’t want anyone trying some crazy idea that’s going to interfere with our procedures. The patients need every ounce of strength to get through their treatments.”

      He turned to leave. Her hand on his arm stopped him.

      “Toys? Hardly a crazy idea,” she chided, tongue in cheek.

      “You know what I meant.”

      “I do. And I assure you, Dr. Steele, I’m not going to hurt the children or do anything to stop their healing progress. I only want to give them something besides a few dishes of ice cream to look forward to after their therapies are done.”

      So she’d noticed his attempt to soften the pain. Jared sprouted new appreciation for GloryAnn Cranbrook’s shrewdness.

      “The pressure suits are agony to put on.” Her voice mirrored her sadness. “To face the knowledge that even though you take it off tonight, you’ll have to do it again tomorrow—that can prey on the mind and ruin any rest they might get.”

      “But they’re necessary,” he blurted out.

      “Of course they are. And they make a difference. You and I both know that.” Her eyes misted. “But six months, a year ahead—that’s a long time for a child to wait to see results. I spoke to some of the nurses. They told me how hard they have to coax some of the older ones to wear the masks.”

      “Then