Free The Ghosts of Anatolia by Steven E. Wilson Page B

see. Well, unfortunately, Dr. Charles doesn’t have clinic today. This is his surgery day. But if you’ll wait here, I’ll find out if he’s available to see you later.”
    The woman turned and disappeared into the hall behind the desk.
    Sirak swiveled in his father’s arms. “Papa?”
    “Yes, what is it, Son?”
    “Why does it smell so bad outside the hospital?”
    Mourad glanced at Kristina and brushed his free hand through Sirak’s hair. “The soldiers relieved themselves on the grounds outside. I guess there’s no place else for them to go.”
    “Dr. Charles told me he didn’t allow that at his hospital,” Sirak replied thoughtfully. “He said it spreads diseases.”
    “Well, he probably hasn’t been here long enough to...”
    The door flew open and Nurse Barton rushed into the foyer. “Kristina!” she called out cheerfully. “How are you?” Stepping around the desk, she hugged Kristina warmly. “I missed you so much. How wonderful to see you again.”
    “Oh, I missed you, too,” Kristina exclaimed happily. She kissed the nurse on the cheek. “You’ve lost weight. Have you been sick?”
    “I’ve lost a pound or two, but I’m fine. We’ve been too busy to eat regular meals.”
    “How long have you been in Diyarbekir?”
    “It’ll be two weeks tomorrow. The military doctors took over our hospital in Chunkoush and Bishop Chlghadian asked Dr. Charles to come help out here. It was either that or head home. I decided to come with him.”
    “Hello, Nurse Barton,” Sirak said shyly. He still clung to Mourad’s chest.
    “Hello, Sirak!” Nurse Barton exclaimed. She kissed his cheek. “How’s our little mouse?”
    “I’m good. Papa let me ride my horse yesterday.”
    “He did?” she asked delightedly, smiling at Mourad. “You really are getting better. With such wonderful parents to look after you, I just knew you’d be fine.
    Elizabeth greeted Mourad, then shared the news that Dr. Charles’ wife, Julie, had passed away.
    “How’s Dr. Charles taking it?” Mourad asked.
    “Not too well, I’m afraid. He only got a few hours to mourn her passing. He buried her in the Protestant Cemetery in Chunkoush the morning she died and was back to work early that same afternoon.”
    Mourad glanced at the growing line at the reception desk. “It looks to me like you’re even busier here.”
    “Our wards are overflowing with patients. On top of that, staff members from the Military Hospital keep coming over to
borrow
suppliesto treat soldiers—or at least that’s what they say they’re doing with the medicines and bandages they carry away. The clinic can’t go on this way much longer.”
    Dr. Charles stepped out of the hall. “Now, now, Elizabeth, don’t be telling stories about me behind my back.”
    “Dr. Charles!” Mourad exclaimed. He stared in disbelief, unable to conceal his shock at the doctor’s obvious decline. He was pasty and frail, and had lost a great deal of weight. “Are you okay, sir?”
    “I haven’t been well the past few weeks, but I’m doing much better now, thank you. It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Kazerian.” The doctor stepped around the desk and lifted Sirak’s pant leg. “How’s our boy here?”
    “We kept him off of his feet for four weeks—just like you ordered, but we’ve been encouraging him to walk a little more each day.”
    “Excellent,” Dr. Charles said. He palpated Sirak’s foot and toes with his fingertips, carefully inspecting the skin on both the upper and lower surfaces. Then he pressed on the defect in the side of his foot. He checked the pulses and looked up with a twinkle in his eye. “You must be praying, like I told you, Sirak. Your foot’s healed up very nicely. You should be able to ride that horse of yours now.”
    “I’ve already been riding—right, Papa?”
    Charles frowned at Mourad. “He’s been riding?”
    “Only very carefully, with me leading him slowly around the corral,” Mourad replied sheepishly.