Leigh Bale - The Healing Place

Published by Steeple Hill Books ™

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To Steve, Daniel and Marie, for standing

firmly against the maelstrom.

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Also, my undying gratitude to Dan and

Marjorie Baird, Steve Burnett, Bill and

Clara Howard, Gary Jackson, Ren Johnson,

Wayne Johnson, George Keele, Koret Family

House, Michael Lehners, Make-A-Wish,

Alan Mentzer, Sue Ross, Justice Thomas Steffen,

Peter Umphress, Dennis Widdis, and Doctors

Mitchell Berger, Jay Chamberlain, Kathy Eckert,

Michael Edwards, John Shields, Joseph Walker

and their staffs. Thanks for being there.

Reno, Nevada

She couldn’t face going home tonight. Dr. Emma Shields scribbled notes on the last patient’s case file before she set it on top of the stack to be sorted by her office staff. She peered at the brass clock on the wall and blinked. Was it really that late? No wonder she was bleary-eyed. She sighed and returned her attention to her work. Anything to delay going to her lonely apartment.

A short knock sounded on the open door.

“Come in,” she called without looking up.

“You plan on staying here all night?”

Emma lifted her head. As she removed her reading glasses and dangled them from her fingers, she sat back in her comfy executive chair.

Too comfy. She stifled a yawn.

Sonja, her head nurse, stood in the doorway, prim and proper in her whites with red stars stamped on her smock. Sonja smoothed her graying hair and showed a crinkly smile.

“Nope, I’m about finished,” Emma replied. “What’s keeping you here so late?”

“I got those pathology reports you requested from Dr. Tanner and sorted them for tomorrow. You’ve already got your messages, so I think I’ll call it a night.”

“Good night.” Emma reached for another pile of paperwork stacked neatly on her desk.

Tidy and in control. That’s what her receptionist called her. Emma couldn’t help that she liked order. She’d had enough chaos in her life to last an eternity.

Sonja turned to leave, but paused. “Oh, before I forget, Mr. Williams called again.”

“Mr. Williams?” Emma shook her groggy head. “Remind me.”

“He has the little girl with a brain tumor. He’s called twice this week. He’s asked if we’ll work with his doctors at the University of California Hospital in San Francisco, to administer her chemotherapy protocol.”

“And did you tell him we deal only in adult oncology?”

“Yes, but he says you’re the doctor most highly recommended by Dr. Meacham, his neurosurgeon.”

“Larry Meacham?”

“None other.”

An impatient huff escaped Emma’s lips. “The next time I see Larry at a medical convention, I’ll have to remind him I don’t take pediatric cases anymore.”

Not since I lost Brian.

Sonja didn’t budge and Emma found it difficult to hide her irritation. “Where’s the tumor located?”

“It’s on the hypothalamus.”

Not good. The hypothalamus was a pea-size gland that told the pituitary gland what to do.

“Inoperable?”

Emma didn’t really need to ask. She’d seen it before in adult patients, time and time again, but this was an innocent child. God could be so unfair.

A rush of bitterness swept her. She’d grown comfortable with her anger and no longer tried to fight it.

Sonja nodded. “Yep, so they’re starting chemo.”

“What drugs will the child be on? How often do they need to be administered?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”

Emma tilted her head, longing to remove the too tight clip at the back of her neck and free her long hair. “No, I don’t want to take this patient.”

I can’t work with another child with cancer. I just can’t.

“But it’s so sad, Dr. Shields. The little girl’s a baby—only six years old.”

Emma’s heart squeezed. Brian had been five.

She shook her head. “I’m very sorry, but administering drugs to a growing child is a lot different than dealing with adults.”

“But she’s been through so much already. She had her first surgery here in Reno, then they rushed her to U.C.S.F. for a biopsy. She’s had several more surgeries since then, to drain cysts and install a VP shunt. Her father’s agreed to begin a chemo protocol as soon as he can find an oncologist. You know there isn’t a single pediatric oncologist in this city.”

Yes, Emma knew. “But there are five other doctors in Reno that specialize in adult oncology. Refer Mr. Williams to one of them.”

Sonja quirked her brows. “He’s already tried and they said no. If you’ll let me, I’ll take full charge of overseeing her protocol.”

Emma almost groaned. Certified to administer chemotherapy drugs, Sonja was one of the best nurses at her job. She was also too generous. A widow and grandmother of two, Sonja had been Brian’s nurse when he had been ill, caring for him tenderly, reassuring Emma that everything would turn out all right.

It hadn’t turned out all right and the night Brian died, Sonja had sobbed as bitterly as Emma.

Sonja smiled gently. “Losing ourselves in service to others is a great way to lift our own pain.”

A shadow of remorse crowded Emma’s mind. She served many patients every day—her bank account swelled with the results. But what good was money when she had no one to spend it on? What service had she done recently, just because someone needed her? Just because she could?

Nothing came to mind. Not since Brian. Because he blamed her for their son’s death, Emma’s husband had left her, too. Their marriage had been rocky long before Brian got sick, but the loss of their child had finished it. God had taken everything from her and then abandoned her.

No wonder I feel so lost and alone.

Her gaze shifted to a plaque on the wall, a wedding gift from her mother, three months before her death. Written by Adam Lindsay Gordon, it read, “Life is mostly froth and bubble, but one thing stands as stone. Kindness in another’s trouble; courage in one’s own.”

Emma crossed her legs and clasped the armrests of her chair. Courage? Kindness? She was fresh out of both.

She peered out the window at the evening sky, a darkening blue with tinges of pink and orange as the sun tucked itself behind the western mountains. Hadn’t she tried to do the right thing for Brian? And look what that had gotten her.

The death of her child, followed by a painful divorce.

“It would be so easy to help them,” Sonja prodded, undeterred by Emma’s frown.