The Healer: A Young Adult Romantic Fantasy (The Healer Series Book 1) (2 page)

I left the cuts, bruises, and broken arm alone despite an overwhelming desire to do the exact opposite. I settled for teaching Eve’s body how to speed up the healing process, instructing her life force to send certain signals to her sensory nerves, mainly the nociceptors, that no injuries had been sustained. If the signals could prevent her nerves from recognizing the remaining injuries, she wouldn’t feel any pain while her body healed.

I knew pain was an important and crucial part of healing, but with me there to monitor the healing taking place, there was simply no need for it. I wanted her body to be well rested from her ordeal, and easing her pain was the one last kindness I could give her.

Exhausted, I gently released Eve’s small head, severing my connection with the sweet little girl. She no longer had to fight for her life. I felt a kind of tired happiness engulf my being.

“Hope,” my dad whispered. He laid a warm, supportive hand on my shoulder and rubbed it gently.

I’d been so absorbed in the healing, I’d completely forgotten my father was sitting in the room with us. I glanced up at him and was struck by how tired he looked.

“Will she make it?” His voice was laced with worry and concern. I gave him an encouraging smile.

“She’ll make it. She had a blood clot in her brain and some internal bleeding due to a damaged kidney, but that’s all better now.” I rubbed my tired eyes and felt the residue of the little girl’s life force slowly ebbing away from me.

My father still looked worried even though Eve was fine. His graying sideburns and the shadows under his eyes made him look much older than his forty-three years.

“I healed her easily,” I continued, hoping he’d stop looking so somber. I turned to watch the even rise and fall of Eve’s chest as she slumbered on; unfettered by the very serious condition her body had been in not ten minutes earlier. “She was very receptive.”

Children were always easier to connect with. They had less baggage and a more trusting nature, unless of course their parents were monsters. Connecting with the life force of a child who’d dealt with years of abuse was nearly impossible. Fortunately, I hadn’t had much experience in that department.

“I knew about the head injury and the blood clot, but not the punctured kidney. I’m relieved I got you in here when I did.” I gave him a hard look and wondered why he didn’t sound relieved. “What would I do without you?” He sounded sincere, but appeared a little distracted.

“Well, your life would be pathetically boring considering the fact you never do anything but work at this hospital. Glad I can provide some excitement around here every once in a while.”

I needed him to joke around with me or crack a smile. He mussed up my long, dark hair in a way that made me certain I looked as if I’d just rolled out of bed. I pushed his hand back and managed a look of annoyance as I attempted to smooth out the damage he’d inflicted.

The tension we’d felt before I healed Eve was finally beginning to lessen, and my fun-loving, albeit overprotective, father started to resurface.

“You kept Eve’s lab results a secret then?” I asked. My father nodded.

“The only injuries recorded in her file will be the ones you didn’t heal.” His face looked troubled. “It’s not the most ethical, nor the most subtle thing I’ve ever done, but I felt it necessary that we intercede like this, for John’s sake.”

That’s what he was worried about. It’s what he was always worried about; being discovered.

“We saved her life, Dad.”

“If anyone finds out I fixed the results…”

“They won’t,” I interrupted. “No one will. Just look at what we’ve accomplished!”

I turned back to Eve. I was glad I’d had a shift at the hospital earlier. If anyone did see me in the area they’d probably assume I was just working late. I did the cleaning and janitorial work on the third floor. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it gave me some extra pocket money, and allowed me to pursue my main reason for being here. I wanted to help the patients who needed me. In my mind that was everyone, but my father was big on keeping a low profile. I stuck to healing children, and only if their injuries were life-threatening. Sometimes I helped teenagers and adults when they’d accept me, but many wouldn’t allow me to connect with them. There were so many resistant and distrustful people out there.

I would have liked to have worked as a doctor myself and helped in a more official capacity, especially since I knew more about the human body than any other doctor I’d ever encountered, including my own father. Being a high school senior wasn’t the same as being a college graduate with an MD, so I had to settle for janitorial work.

At the start of each shift my father would bring me into his office on the second floor and discuss the condition of any patient he felt might benefit from my gift. He didn’t like having me here healing people and would have avoided it all together, but considered it a necessary evil after learning the first three months of my job had been spent dodging various hospital personnel in order to sneak into patient’s rooms and heal as many children as I possibly could.

When a twelve-year-old autistic boy with a broken leg was miraculously healed from not only the break, but the autism as well, it caused such an uproar amongst the staff and the boy’s parents that my father nearly fired me.

Oops!

I had to suffer through a huge lecture about remaining discreet and avoiding attention, but secretly I was congratulating myself on the young boy’s condition. He was an awesome kid and had so much to offer. After that, my father began monitoring all extra-curricular activities during my shifts. It annoyed me, but I guess I could see the wisdom in it.

There was a Pediatric Oncology Unit that took up the entire third floor. It was funded by some wealthy congressman whose teenage boy had been saved from a fatal gunshot wound by my father. I’d played a major role in that particular miracle, but no one could know that. When I wasn’t cleaning the hospital rooms or making beds I spent the majority of my time with the oncology patients. The children seemed so excited for the visits, and for me, that was all that mattered. I tried not to get too attached to them, though. I knew there were many who’d eventually pass on, and I wouldn’t be able to prevent it from happening.

That being said, I’d grown very fond of a ten-year-old boy named Kirby and visited him as often as I could in order to ease his pain and attempt to heal him. The healing never took, though, and each attempt became a bit more heartbreaking for both Kirby and myself.

I kept trying anyway. I wasn’t going to stop trying until I figured out what was preventing me from being successful.

My attention was brought back to the present when my father suggested I call it a night and head for home. I nodded, getting ready to walk my weary frame out the door when a thought hit me. “Were there any other people hurt in the accident?” I asked. He looked at the floor and swallowed.

“Dad?”

I moved directly in front of him so he couldn’t avoid my gaze. He let out a loud sigh and sat down in one of the chairs.

“John’s office aid, Sarah. She was in the car with them.”

I looked down at the floor feeling unreasonably angry.

“You were just going to let me go home without even allowing me to assess her situation? She’s the closest thing to a mother that Eve has.”

“Hope, just walk away from this one,” he pleaded a bit desperately. “She’s an adult. It will be too difficult for you to connect with her, and there’s nothing you can do. I don’t want you internalizing that. I don’t want you comparing this situation to what you’ve already been through with…” he stopped talking before the thought could be finished.

My father rarely touched on the subject of my mother. All it ever did was leave an uncomfortable silence in its wake. Then he’d be withdrawn and pensive for the rest of the day.

“Just let this one go, okay?”

I shook my head, refusing to look at his pained expression. I didn’t want him suffering due to my decisions, but I couldn’t walk away from anyone. Not if there was a chance I could help. Being acquainted with

Sarah didn’t make the situation any easier. I wasn’t close to her, but I knew Eve couldn’t lose another mother.

“You know I can’t do that. I have to at least try. For Eve’s sake, I have to try.”

“I promise there’s absolutely nothing you can do, and I didn’t get access to her records in time. Her situation is known amongst all applicable staff. There’s really no changing this one, Hope.”

“Can I just see her?”

He ran his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Only if Betty’s working this shift. I won’t be able to sneak you in if the nurse on call is anyone else.”

Betty was the head nurse at the hospital. She tended to turn a blind eye to my sporadic interference because she respected my father, and she was religious enough to believe that my “healing influence” was a direct gift from god. That’s what she said, anyway. If she suspected what I was really capable of she never let on.

Even though my father was Chief Surgeon at the hospital he still needed to be careful and follow protocol as much as possible, but his status made it much easier for me to maneuver my way around, healing whomever he allowed me to heal.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he grumbled as he reluctantly stood up. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

I pushed my overprotective father out the door and followed him down the hallway.

Chapter Two

Betty, a slender, middle-aged, black woman, turned from her work and met me with a sad smile.

“Hello, Betty,” I said. “How’s the patient doing?”

“She’s in a coma. Not sure there’s anything we can do except make her as comfortable as possible and pray to the Lord Jesus that some kinda crazy miracle takes place.” She grabbed the tiny gold cross around her neck and kissed it quickly. She was always tugging and kissing on that thing. I found it endearing. “Sometimes, though, your presence seems to be all people need, girl. Maybe you could work your crazy mojo on this one and everything will turn out just fine.” Her smile brightened a bit.

I smiled back, feeling a special kinship with the wiry woman.

“Has her condition changed at all?” asked my father.

The nurse shook her head sadly. She had thick black hair that looked as if someone had sprinkled powdered sugar on it. It was pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. I’d always thought she was a natural beauty. The light graying in her hair managed to make her look younger rather than older.

“No, Dr. Fairmont, nothing has changed. I’m hoping she’ll pull through, though. It’s gonna be hard on the mayor if she doesn’t.”

I didn’t respond. I was too busy studying Sarah and pushing away that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling I always got when I recognized there was nothing I could do. My father must have noticed my distress.

“Betty,” he said, “might I have a word with you outside?”

He gave me an encouraging smile, knowing that I needed to be alone for this one, and quickly guided her out of the room.

I sat down next to Sarah and placed my hands on either side of her head. My heart lurched as I connected with her more quickly than I’d anticipated. That kind of thing didn’t usually happen. It tended to take much longer for a connection to occur with an adult. The intense pain her body was enduring caught me off guard.

A different kind of emotion gripped me as I realized, with certainty, there was nothing I’d be able to do for her. Sarah was meant to die. No matter how hard I tried, and I would try, her life force would be unable to respond to any instructions I gave it.

I felt the tears run down my cheeks, and a spark of anger rippled through my thoughts.

No! Your life force must stay. Do you understand? I can save you. I can keep you here.

I sent image after image, begging and pleading with Sarah’s life force to begin the healing process. I focused on the cells that were most badly damaged within the brain and showed them what needed to be done. I focused on the broken bones, the damaged tissues, anything that might elicit a response from her. Over and over again I tried with dogged determination, but I could feel no response from the woman’s spirit other than the overwhelming feeling that it would be departing soon.

Let me go, Hope.

I was so startled by the voice sounding within me, I nearly dropped her head and lost the connection altogether. In all the years I’d been healing, I’d never actually had anyone communicate back.

Let me go,
Sarah said again.

I recovered from my surprise.

I can’t save you unless you fight. You must try harder.

I was frantic for her to understand the seriousness of her situation. Something was different this time. If I could actually communicate back and forth with her, instead of simply sending images and instructions, then maybe Sarah could be saved despite how sure I felt that she shouldn’t.

You were never meant to save me, Hope. My death will not be your fault any more than your mother’s.