been signed.
“Portland?” Sven repeated. “Why? Why so far?”
This was growing increasingly difficult, thought Dover. “You see, Mister Barenssen, your sister has . . . she has a number of things wrong with her. Anyone of them alone and the local hospital would be able to treat her.” This was a bit of a white lie, but one that Dover felt acceptable. “But because there are so many problems, she needs more monitoring and tests than we can provide here. Given the seriousness of her illness, I think it would be wisest to transfer her at once. Today, in fact.”
“What? Today?” Sven’s eyes had taken on the hard glaze of shock and he spoke mechanically, moving as if his joints were connected by loose wires and string.
“Yes. It is urgent. I wouldn’t pressure you, but since these circumstances are so extraordinary, I think it would be best if you would agree to . . . permit me to make the appropriate arrangements.” He knew how to bring the authority and dignity of his position into play, and he did it now as emphatically as he could. “You certainly can understand, can’t you, why your sister deserves the best care possible.”
“I can’t afford it,” Sven croaked.
“I’ll do what I can to help you find the means,” Dover said, speaking gently and evenly. “Will Colney can help out, if you like.”
“Not with charity,” warned Sven.
“With finding a way to pay for your sister’s treatment,” said Dover in the same calm drone. “You certainly want her to have the best treatment, don’t you?”
“Sure.” He was fidgeting, his fingers moving restlessly over his jacket, stopping at the zipper, then sneaking off to hide in the pockets. “But the cost.”
Dover knew that if Sven ever learned how expensive the treatment would be, the enormity of the figure would terrify him. “That’s why I want you to talk with Will Colney. He has excellent sources for community assistance, and surely all the years your sister has devoted to his congregation will guarantee that he will do his utmost for her.” He took a pad of paper from the top drawer of his desk. Most of his notes and records were, in fact, kept on his personal computer in the next room, but he knew that most of his patients did not trust the thing, and so he still kept up the practice of written instructions and notes. “I’m going to give you the name of the assistant administrator at the hospital. I want you to go over and talk to her, and arrange for your sister to be transferred to Portland.”
“I won’t get to see her,” said Sven, sounding lost.
“Until she gets well, she’ll have to be kept in isolation, in any case. You see, we don’t have enough information on what’s wrong with her, and until we do, we must make sure that she does not spread her disease to anyone else.” He knew that he ought to soften the blow somehow. “You know that Kirsten would not want to bring illness to anyone.”
“Or any misfortune,” said Sven automatically. “She’s a good Christian woman. She wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt anyone.”
“Yes,” said Dover. “Now, you go talk with Miss Bradshaw and she’ll arrange everything.” He had already spent ten minutes on the phone with Toni Bradshaw, and knew all that was needed now was Sven’s signature on four different forms.
“I don’t have time to take her to Portland,” Sven began.
“It will be arranged. You don’t have to do it, Mister Barenssen.” Now Dover gave his very best sympathetic smile. “You’re doing the right thing to help your sister. I know how difficult it must be, but it is the right thing.” He resolved to call Will Colney after he straightened out the medical transfer. From the look of him, Sven would need the comfort his minister would offer.
“The assistant administrator at the hospital?” Sven asked as he stared at the piece of paper Dover had handed him.
“Yes; she’ll be expecting you.” He made a great show of looking at his