Free Comes a Time for Burning by Steven F. Havill Page B

still could diagnose circles around me. I am painfully aware of my inexperience, and I miss his presence terribly.”
    “You are somewhat removed from the rest of the world in this little island of activity you have here,” Hardy said.
    “But the opportunity is boundless, Lucius. To
build
. I want to show you the renovations we’ve accomplished upstairs for both women and children.” He turned toward the hallway behind them, then stopped. “Let me tell you what I’m
not
, Lucius. I am no obstetrician. And…” He looked behind him as if someone might be eavesdropping. “I don’t
want
to be. If that sounds unnatural, so be it. In my nine months here, I have delivered exactly two infants. Both successfully, I may add. But throughout the entire procedure, it was Nurse Auerbach and a competent mid-wife who orchestrated events. It would be fair to say that they
tolerated
my presence, should some kind of surgical intervention be necessary.”
    “Surely you exaggerate a bit,” Hardy said. “But an interesting woman, your Miss Auerbach. You have other nursing staff, I understand?”
    “Three others. You just missed Helen Whitman, who has gone for the day. She is a competent woman with no particular formal training, but vast experience. The other two provide coverage for us during the nighttime hours. Mrs. Crowell and Miss Stephens, both competent.” He hesitated. “Well, Mrs. Crowell is competent. She has recently lost her husband and finds that working at night is somehow soothing. Miss Stephens is very young, but tried a few months at St. Mary’s across the sound before returning home. She has much to learn, and I have reservations, I admit. She is somehow easily embarrassed by the human body and its functions.”
    “I have to say that I am impressed with Miss Auerbach,” Hardy mused.
    “A gem,” Thomas said fervently. “She and Alvi are the only two who will tell me what I need to hear…
exactly
what I need to hear, whether I like it or not.”
    “How fortunate you are—I think.” Hardy chuckled again. “You might disagree with Cushing’s comments, then. That in all things, the physician is captain of his ship.”
    “If he meant that no one should be allowed to speak up and remind the physician when he’s being a stubborn mule-headed pedant who is clearly
wrong
and headed toward disaster, then yes. I couldn’t disagree with him more. What little experience I have has taught me that.”
    Hardy’s eyes twinkled. “You’ve found yourself in that situation, have you?”
    “Too many times.”
    “You’re a remarkable man to admit it, sir.”
    “My convalescence had a lot to do with it. During the six months when I was a patient…” He hunched his shoulders. “Primarily I learned how very little the physician actually
knows
, without fear of debate. The moment I think I’m in control of all factors in a case, nature proves to me otherwise.”
    “Ah. I suppose so. You must tell me more about your own mishap when you have a moment.”
    Thomas stopped and gestured around the men’s ward they had just entered. “Originally, this was the
only
ward. Eight beds, no provisions for women or children. No provision for extended care. No way to separate the chronically ill, or the infectiously ill, from otherwise healthy surgical patients. Now this floor is reserved for male patients, with three separate rooms toward the rear for the most challenging cases, or those that require the additional privacy. That’s where we’ve placed Mr. Malone. so he would have complete quiet.” He patted the foot rail of the first bed.
    “The young man with the broken finger was here this morning. He recovered from the oxide quickly, and we saw no reason to keep him further. He left with absolute instructions about how he should take care of himself. I don’t believe that he will,” and the physician grinned ruefully. “But later today, I plan to ride out to the tract and check on him myself. We also have the