Healing Tides. Lois Richer
But I understand there is now a temporary doctor servicing your village. If you could delay your return by six months, to help the children at Agapé, I’d really appreciate it. Only until I can find a successor.”
GloryAnn took a deep breath. There was only one response she could make.
“If that’s what you need, Elizabeth, I’m more than happy to go.”
“I had no intention of asking you so soon, but—”
GloryAnn leaned forward, covered the long thin fingers with her own.
“You and your foundation gave me back my dream, paid for me to continue at medical school after Dad died, when there was no possible way I could have gone on. I can never repay you for that.” She smiled at her benefactor, squeezed her arm. “I’ll be happy if I can pass on even a portion of the generosity you’ve shown me.”
“Dear Glory. Thank you so much.” Elizabeth enveloped her in a hug perfumed with her favored jasmine. “Of all the women I’ve selected for scholarships, you’ve seemed the most like my daughter. I promise you won’t regret this decision. In fact, I’m praying that God will use you to do great things at Agapé.”
“I don’t care about great things. I just want to do His will, to make a difference wherever He sends me,” GloryAnn murmured softly.
“And you will, my dear. I know it.”
Elizabeth smiled with a confidence GloryAnn envied.
So this was what paradise looked like in January.
“We are almost there, miss,” the driver told her.
“Thank you.”
GloryAnn peered out the window, trying to get a better look at her new home. She caught the tiniest glimpse of the Pacific through a labyrinth of volcanic slopes. Honolulu’s lights had long since disappeared, leaving polka dots of brightness sprinkled across the surrounding countryside.
The car swung hard to the left. GloryAnn clung to her seat with both hands, hardly daring to breathe as they sped along the winding road. Apparently her driver knew only two ways of driving—fast and faster.
Never in a million years would Glory have guessed she’d be living in Hawaii, even for six months. But how could she refuse Elizabeth’s gentle request when the same woman had come to her rescue after her father had died. His death had left her with barely enough funds to pay back the loan he’d borrowed against his life insurance for her first year’s tuition money. Elizabeth had been a mentor, a friend and, as it turned out, the only reason Glory had been able to complete her education.
This was Glory’s opportunity to pass on Elizabeth’s generosity.
A two-story white stucco building perched ahead of them gleamed in the moonlight. It was fronted by a big sign: Agapé. The letters looked as if a child had written them. Underneath, For the Keiki. For the Children.
The sweet, heady fragrance of bougainvillea wafted in, carried by a soft sea breeze that ruffled the American flag fluttering high above the building. Bright driveway lights chased away the shadows. Behind the building Glory saw intermittent red-and-white flashes burst into the sky.
“What’s that?” she asked the driver.
“Life Flight. Helicopter. They bring the little ones.”
Probably not the best time to arrive. The driver opened the door and held it as Glory got out of the car.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Mahalo.”
She stood for a moment to soak up the sound of swaying palms, pounding surf and whisper-wind.
Aloha, Hawaii.
She followed the driver toward the big glass door.
Inside, the mission was bustling.
“Incoming, Dr. Steele.” A woman in a crisp white uniform pulled a cart filled with supplies from a room behind the counter.
“I heard.” A tall lean man appeared, short-cropped hair tousled, pale-blue eyes narrowed in concentration. He flung a chart onto the counter, settled his stethoscope around his neck as he moved. He paused in front of Glory.
“Who are you?”
“Dr. GloryAnn Cranbrook. Elizabeth Wisdom sent me.”
“About time.” He didn’t bother with introductions but strode down the hall and out a door without a second glance.
“I’m Leilani Maku.” The nurse offered a harried smile. “Welcome to Agapé, Doctor. Do you want me to—”
“Go. I’ll follow.” Glory grabbed a white coat off a hanger.
The driver had already left. Her luggage was still in the car but the helicopter’s rasping rotors told her there was no time to think about that now.
She hurried after the others, pushing through the door they’d left from. It led to a hallway, which in turn led to a helipad on one side, an emergency ward on the other. She pushed open the outside door and stepped into the night. Dr. Steele was already halfway across the tarmac.
Glory hurried forward.
“What’s been done, Leilani?”
His nurse checked her paperwork.
“The fax says they’ve been typed and matched. I’ve got a clean room set up for initial assessment. If we need more help, Dr. Sanguri is visiting his mother. He’s in the village but he can be here in ten minutes.”
“He’s an ob-gyn!” Dr. Steele exploded as he waited for the helicopter to land. “He’ll be no help.”
“He’s the only doctor near enough to pitch in immediately.”
“I’m here.” Glory stepped forward.
Leilani smiled, thanked her. Dr. Steele surveyed her from head to foot, his ice-blue eyes cold as any Arctic wind.
“I hope you can follow directions.”
Welcome to Hawaii.
Jared Steele had one hand on the door the moment the helicopter touched down.
“Hey, Doc.” A young pilot with a British accent jumped out, helped an accompanying nurse free two stretchers strapped inside. “Meet my friends, Tony and Joseph. Hang on, boys. Nurse Leilani will have you tucked up before you can say Bob’s your uncle.”
The lilt of his British accent lit up the boys’ eyes. Or maybe it was his quick smile.
“What happened?” Dr. Steele surveyed his patients.
“They were at an international kids’ event on Maui. Somebody thought it would be fun to douse their campfire with gasoline. The trip here didn’t do them any good.”
One glance at Dr. Steele’s face told Glory he saw what she did—the first child didn’t have much time.
“Leilani,” he ordered, “get another IV in if you can. Now.”
Leilani waved over attendants, who transferred the boy onto the waiting gurney. They hurried inside.
The second boy was wide-awake. Though he looked in pain, he managed to twist his head so he could watch the doctor who was studying his damaged face. Dr. Steele shook his head at the sacrilege, grabbed the edge of the stretcher and began to move.
“Clean room. Stat,” he ordered, his voice harsh.
The boy murmured something unintelligible. Dr. Steele glanced at the pilot who was trailing along beside him.
“I can’t understand him.”
“German. He wants to know if he’s going to die.”
“We’re all going to die.”
“That’s