Healing Tides

by Lois Richer

  “She’s got a fever. I gave her something but it’s not working yet. We took in some criticals tonight. I should check on them. Can you stay with her?”

  “Yes. I’ll use the other bedroom if I need to catch some sleep, though I slept half the evening away. Phil doesn’t look good, Jared.”

  “I know.” He gathered her into his arms and let her weep on his shoulder until the tears were spent. After the storm, grief lingered in her dark gaze. “She hasn’t got much time left. Can you stay?”

  Elizabeth nodded, drew back, accepted a tissue and wiped her nose. “I’m a wimp.”

  “It’s a hard time for everybody. Philomena’s been our rock for so long. The mission was her idea. I guess we thought she’d outlast it.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes scoured his face for answers. Finally she drew him out of the room, left the door open a crack.

  “It’s hard for all of us to think of this place without her.”

  “And without you.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, held it toward him. “What are you doing, Jared?”

  “Resigning. I won’t leave yet. I’d like to wait until—” He searched for the right way to phrase it. “Until the other matter is settled. But after that, well, I want to go after that, Elizabeth.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” He saw the truth in her eyes. “We both know that without the procedure, I’m not the best man for this job. It’s time someone else took over. Someone with bigger ideas, fresh blood.”

  Someone without an ax to grind.

  “So you’ll walk away without a second thought.”

  “No!” He couldn’t stand for her to think that her friendship, this place, her cousin, hadn’t meant a lot to him. “I’ll walk away with a lot of memories, some regrets and the hope that whoever succeeds me will do a much better job.”

  “I was wrong,” she murmured, her chin thrust out. “You’re the wimp.”

  The scorn bit deep but he held her regard, nodded.

  “You won’t even fight for her?” she asked, head inclined toward the door that led into Glory’s room.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Jared. You care about her.”

  He gave it up.

  “Yes, I do. But that is irrelevant. She’ll return to the Arctic and I’ll leave here, find somewhere else.”

  “And do what? Spend your life hating, mourning, grieving?”

  Each word was a barb that sank deep into his skin, made all the worse because Elizabeth was not a harsh woman.

  “I won’t leave until I see justice served.”

  She studied him for a moment, shook her head, her eyes sad.

  “How arrogant you are. You think that you’re the only one who ever got a raw deal? That no one else has the right to want answers, to hold God accountable?” Her harsh truth shocked him. “You ought to talk to the woman in there about hard knocks.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you ever read the file I sent?”

  He felt stupid. “I never got around to it.”

  “You should have. GloryAnn Cranbrook is a study in taking it on the chin and not crumbling. Her mother rescued Glory from a burning building, received third-degree burns to eighty percent of her body. Because of a storm, no medical help could reach her. She died, making Glory promise to return to the North and treat the Inuit.”

  “She mentioned a promise.”

  “Really? Did she also tell you that she had just finished her first year when her father was killed?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you know how he died?” She waited for his response. “He was guiding tourists to see the polar bears so he could scrape together enough money to use for her tuition for another year at medical school. Glory got nothing when he died because he’d already cashed in his life insurance to help pay for her first year. In fact, she was in debt. She would have missed out on her medical career altogether—a woman like that, dedicated, loving, gentle. I wish God had made ten of her.”

  “She is exceptional.”

  “Don’t offer me platitudes, Jared Steele.” Elizabeth glared at him. “I want you to explain to me what gives you the corner on suffering? What gives you the right to stop doing the work God sent you here to do just because you think a man didn’t get the punishment he should? Because God in His almighty wisdom didn’t explain Himself to you?”

  She was furious and he understood. That was the worst of it. Jared could stand back and see how his hate was affecting everyone, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  “I don’t have the answers, Elizabeth. I only know it’s what I have to do. What I can’t accept is that he is still alive, almost free, that Viktor could walk away with never having paid for taking their lives.”

  “You can’t be that naive.” Exasperation clouded her voice.

  “Naive?”

  “Viktor hasn’t walked away, Jared. He has to live with the memories of what he did, of the child he lost. Grief drove him to what he did. Doesn’t that spark the least bit of humanity in your soul?”

  “I wonder if you’d be so ready to make excuses for me if in my grief I had killed him.”

  She shook her head, studying him in a silence that stretched out far too long.

  “I’m almost glad you won’t let yourself care for Glory. She’s a fine, strong, courageous woman who tackles life with faith and hope. She needs a man who can walk that path with her, not someone who’s always looking back.”

  “I know,” he whispered, wishing with everything in him that he could be that man.

  Elizabeth picked her purse off a nearby table.

  “I’ll make some tea, sit with her for a while.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to leave.

  “And Jared?”

  Something in her voice made him turn and examine the finely drawn features. He saw the pain crouched there, the knowledge that she, too, would soon be among the grieving.

  He also saw love.

  “You’ve always been the son I never had,” she whispered. “That will never change. No matter where you go.”

  “I love you, too,” he told her, wishing he could heal the hurt he’d caused her.

  Then he left.

  The sounds in the other room died away.

  Glory lifted her head, heard the soft hum of a woman’s voice.

  She laid her head back against the pillow and let the words sink in.

  “Resigning…I want to go after that, Elizabeth.”

  Jared was leaving and he hadn’t even told her. That kiss, the embrace—none of it meant a thing to him. He didn’t care about her, the hospital, the children or even Elizabeth.

  Tears rolled down her face.

  “Oh, God, please let me go home.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’ve been sick for a week. You can’t just jump up from your bed and go back to work,” Jared snapped.

  “Why not? That’s what I’m here for. Besides, I know you have to go to Honolulu today.” Glory pointed to the pink message chit that lay on his desktop. “So go. I’ll cover you. I’m used to that.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Glory walked over to the door, pushed it closed and leaned her back against it.

  “You know exactly what I mean, Jared.”

  His eyes froze, his mouth pinched.

  She ignored the ache in her heart, pushed ahead because it had to be said. “Do you know that Elizabeth is worried the board won’t approve the new machine you asked for?”

  “Oh?”

  “She won’t tell you. She doesn’t want to burden you. Anyway, what do you care? You’re leaving, right?”

  “Not yet.”

  She shrugged as if it didn’t matter when he took off. But every cell in her brain hurried to memorize each detail of his face, the way he walked, the shape of his head.

  “She knows it’s coming and she’s doing her best to accommodate you. It’s pretty difficult to recruit when you
can’t give candidates a firm date, but hey, as long as you’re not inconvenienced.”

  “I didn’t expect you to understand.”

  “Good. Because I don’t.” She marched across the room, stood in front of him. “Look around, Jared. There are a whole lot of kids here who need attention. But they’re not getting what they need because the rest of us are stretched too thin. And we don’t have your expertise.”

  “You’re talking about Bennie,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing.

  “Bennie and Maria and all the rest. When was the last time you actually noticed the kid and not the injury?”

  “I see them every day.”

  She shook her head.

  “You see the wounds. You don’t see past them to the frightened little soul inside who just wants life to be like it was.” She paused for a moment. “You’re even ignoring Sister Philomena.”

  “I was there this morning.”

  “Were you?” Glory pinned him with the truth. “You dashed in, checked her chart and left when she was barely awake. You couldn’t spare the time to sit beside her and just talk.”

  “I’m busy. I’ll see her later.”

  “And, of course, she’ll be waiting. Just as we all will. Sitting waiting for that moment when you have enough time to spare us a second. It really is all about you, isn’t it, Jared? Your life, your problems, your needs.”

  Glory turned away to hide her tears.

  “Why are you acting like this?” he demanded, coming up beside her. His hand pressed against her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged it off, unable to bear his touch.

  “What’s wrong? You can’t see that everyone has problems. Dr. Xavier received sad news about his daughter. Fredrick needs some time off to relax or he’s going to do damage to that bad hip of his. The board is suggesting to Elizabeth that Agapé might be better off closed if we’re not doing your procedure. Sister Phil’s spirits are low. Bennie is sicker than he’s ever been.”

  Why couldn’t he see?

  “You are not the only one with problems, Jared.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  “No, you’re not. If you were sorry you’d accept that God deals out justice in His own time and you’d get on with doing what you do best, which, in case you’ve forgotten, is skin grafting.”

  “I’m trying—”

  “No, you’re not trying at all. You’re wallowing. But you go ahead, immerse yourself in hate. And after Sister Phil’s gone, when it’s too late to spend an hour letting her talk, when Bennie’s passed the point of viable operating, when Agapé’s closed—will you be satisfied then? Will it be enough?”

  “You really dislike me, don’t you? I thought—” He squeezed his hands closed, shook his head once. “Never mind. I wanted to talk to you about Bennie. I think it might be best if we moved him.”

  “Move him? Where?”

  “Boston, perhaps?”

  “What does Boston have that we don’t? A new treatment, a way to heal his shoulder?” He shuffled his feet on the floor. Her heart dropped. “The object isn’t to get Bennie better treatment, it’s to get him out of here, so you won’t feel guilty anymore.”

  “Your opinion of me isn’t very high. I’m sorry about that.”

  It was time to risk all or nothing.

  “You’re a fantastic doctor, Jared. You have the skills to impact a lot of kids, to bring hope. You could do so much here.”

  He wasn’t responding, so she tried one last time.

  “You’re a fine man and I care about you a lot. I want you to be happy, to get rid of the shadows and move into the light. I pray that God will lead you back to enjoying your work, to living up to your potential.”

  “You care—about me?” he asked, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it.

  “Yes, I do.” She felt raw, exposed. “We all care, Jared. But we can’t help you anymore. Only you can pull yourself out of this miasma of revenge and take back your life.”

  She walked to the door, dragged it open and stood beside it.

  “I hope you don’t wait too long,” she whispered. “Take it from me that the people who love you are all that really matters.”

  Caller ID showed a familiar Honolulu number.

  “If you’re calling about the meeting today, I have to give it a miss.”

  “It’s been rescheduled. I’m calling about something else.”

  “Oh. What?” Halfway through his signature, Jared paused.

  “Viktor wants to see you.”

  “What?” Face-to-face with the murderer? “Why?”

  “He won’t say anything other than he needs to speak with you privately.”

  “No way. I’m not listening to a last-minute plea to let him walk.”

  “I get the feeling that’s not why.”

  “It doesn’t matter why. I won’t do it. Now, when’s the next date?” He scribbled it down, ended the conversation, grabbed his lunch sack and headed for the beach to think.

  The people who love you.

  Glory loved him. Was that what she’d meant?

  He already knew he loved her, had known for weeks now.

  For a moment he let himself imagine the possibilities. Agapé would be a place of laughter and joy because that’s who she was. Life would be full and rich and the kids would cluster around her like bees to honey.

  The kids.

  In that fraction of a second the dream fizzled and died, leaving him alone, empty.

  Glory wanted, deserved kids. Lots of them. She would make a wonderful mother.

  But he’d lost his chance.

  Restless, unable to relax, Jared strode over the uneven ground to Sister Phil’s. Glory was right about that, he had been avoiding her.

  “Ah, I hoped you’d come.” The fingers could barely lift from the bed.

  Jared covered them with his own and wondered why he’d stayed away.

  “How are you, Phil?”

  “Tired.” She licked her parched lips. “I want to go home.”

  “You are home,” he whispered, sad to see her so disoriented.

  Sister Phil’s smile flashed as bright as it ever had.

  “This is not my home, Jared,” she wheezed. “Not my real home. I want to go to be with my Lord. Then I shall truly be home.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “Dear boy. My body will be gone but I’ll be here still. In the memories, in the flowers we planted. In the love we shared. In your heart.”

  “Yes.” The lump in his throat swelled so large he couldn’t speak.

  “You have others here who love you. Kahlia and Pono, Elizabeth, your staff. Glory loves you, too.”

  He shook his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue with her. Not now.

  “Love is what really matters, Jared. If you don’t have love, you don’t have anything. Nothing can replace it, nothing can change it. It’s always there, forever.” Her eyelids drooped closed and for a moment he thought she slept. “Get my Bible, Jared. There on the stand.”

  He lifted the worn book into his hands.

  “I Corinthians 13. Will you read it for me?”

  He flipped through the dog-eared pages, found the chapter. It bore many lines, notes on the sides, dates marked in red, a testament to her use of the book.

  “Will you read it to me?”

  Jared began reciting the familiar words. He’d memorized them years earlier. But now they seemed more pertinent, more alive. Especially when he came to the fifth verse.

  “‘Love is never haughty or selfish or rude. Love does not demand its own way. It is not irritable or touchy. It does not hold grudges and will hardly even notice when others do it wrong.’”

  Sister’s eyes were closed, but a beatific smile lit up her face.

  “‘If you love someone you will be loyal to him no matter what the cost. You will always believe in him, always expect the best of him, and always stand your ground in defending him,’” she recited.

 
Eyes closed, she continued through to the end of the verse until the last one. There she stopped, sighed.

  “‘There are three things that remain—faith, hope and love—and the greatest of these is love,’” he finished for her.

  “Yes. The greatest. Choose love, Jared. Choose the best.” Her fingers gave his the barest squeeze before she drew one last breath.

  Then she was gone.

  Elizabeth hurried into the room as the machine signaled Sister Phil’s passing. Jared flipped it and the others off, watched as she moved to the side of her cousin.

  “She’s gone now, Elizabeth,” he murmured.

  “I know. But I want to sit with her a minute.” She blinked through her tears. “Could you tell the others, please? Glory, too. I just saw her heading down to the beach with her lunch.”

  “I’ll tell her.” Jared waited a moment then left the little cottage he’d come to for solace so often. He hated the task that lay before him, most of all he hated having to tell Glory. So he started at Agapé, let the staff know.

  Then he walked toward the precipice overlooking the beach. She was in the water, happily paddling through it, the sun tinting her hair gold.

  Sighing, Jared climbed down the steps, sank onto the sand to wait for her.

  As soon as she saw him she hurried out of the water.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He rose, handed her the towel she’d dropped on the sand. When she didn’t take it, he wrapped it around her like a sarong.

  “Sister Phil,” she whispered. Jagged misery washed over her beautiful features. “Oh, no.” Tears formed on her lashes, dropped onto her cheeks. She made no attempt to hide them. Instead, she laid her head on his chest and wept.

  “She died happy, Glory.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and held on.

  “I know.”

  “We’ll miss her.”

  “So much. At the end, you were with her?”

  “Yes. She asked me to read a passage from her Bible then she took over, quoting it from memory. She wanted to go home, her real home.”

  “She’s not suffering anymore. That’s good.” Glory searched his face. “I’m glad you got to speak to her again.”

  “So am I.” She felt so precious in his arms, delicate yet infinitely strong. He could not make himself let go.