Maverick In The Er

“Can I walk with you?”

Startled out of her private thoughts, Sierra glanced down to see a girl, about ten years old, falling into step beside her on the concrete walkway. The child wore an oversize T-shirt, bright pink leggings and well-scuffed white-and-lavender tennis shoes. Her skin was tanned and her brown hair possessed lighter streaks, which suggested she spent a great deal of time outdoors. Several strands of hair had escaped her ponytail, which wasn’t quite centered in the back of her head.

Although Sierra wanted to finish her walk through the labyrinth in contemplative quiet, she didn’t want to be rude. Instead, she glanced around the garden, carefully scanning each bench for a potential parent or an otherwise responsible adult. Surprisingly, the garden was vacant and no one else was walking the labyrinth. They were alone.

“Won’t your parents wonder where you are?” Sierra asked instead.

“My mom’s dead and when my dad’s out of town I stay with my uncle,” the girl informed her. “He says I have to keep myself busy until he finishes his shift. He has a very important job, you know.”

“Really?” she replied, amazed by how anyone could expect a child at her age to amuse herself in a hospital for hours on end. Surely a man who had this so-called “very important job” would realize that.

“He’s a doctor,” the child added meaningfully.

Sierra wasn’t as impressed as the little girl obviously expected her to be. By virtue of his profession, the man should know better than to let a child run around a busy medical center completely unsupervised.

Immediately Sierra wondered if any of the physicians she knew had a niece this age, but none came to mind. Even so, something about this child’s features seemed familiar.

“You’re a doctor, too, aren’t you?” the youngster asked, as if she already knew the answer.

“Yes, I am. Are you supposed to be outside by yourself?”

The girl drew herself up, adding an inch or so to her almost five-foot frame. “I’m almost eleven,” she said, clearly affronted by Sierra’s question. “My uncle says I can come out here if it’s not raining.” She raised her hands, palms up. “No rain today.”

“No. No rain today,” Sierra echoed. “Doesn’t he worry about you wandering all over the hospital while he’s working?”

“No, because I had to cross my hearts…” she pantomimed “…and promise to follow the rules. I can only go to certain places, like the li-berry, the coffee shop or this garden. Or his office,” she tacked on. “He trusts me.”

At least this nameless man had set a few boundaries.

“The other rule is that I don’t talk to or go with a stranger, no matter where I am.”

“I’m a stranger,” Sierra pointed out, deciding she would hunt down this irresponsible uncle and give him a piece of her mind, colleague or not! The risk was too great to leave this little girl unattended. The garden saw a lot of foot traffic and anyone who weighed more than a hundred pounds could haul this youngster off without breaking a sweat, even if she was kicking and screaming.

“No, you’re not,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve seen you lots of times.” She scurried in front of Sierra and peered at her identification badge. “You’re Dr. McAllaster. Your name tag says so.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m Hannah,” she answered. “Now we aren’t strangers anymore.”

Hannah’s logic was definitely lacking. “Actually, we still are strangers,” Sierra corrected her gently. “I could be a not-very-nice person.”

Hannah’s ponytail bounced with each shake of her head. “Nope, you’re not. I’ve been watching you ‘cause you come here almost as much as I do. If you were a rotten person, you wouldn’t feed the birds your leftover crackers.”

Goodness! Had she been so self-absorbed that she hadn’t noticed an unattended child before today? Or maybe she’d seen her and thought she’d been under the watchful eye of one of the many visitors who came to the garden for fresh air and sunshine. Regardless, it was still eerie to realize that someone had observed her so carefully without her knowledge. She would definitely have to pay closer attention to her surroundings in the future.

“Plus, you’re a doctor. Doctors aren’t mean people. Oh, they can do nasty things like give us a shot, but it’s for our own good,” she said confidently.

While Sierra agreed that most physicians were caring individuals, she personally knew of several who should have chosen a different profession. Even so, she wouldn’t destroy the girl’s illusions. Life would take care of those soon enough.

“A lot of people come here to walk, don’t they?” Hannah asked.

“They do.”

“My uncle says they built this because the lab-y-rinth,” she stumbled over the word, “is supposed to make people feel better. The Native Americans call it a medicine wheel.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. They’ve gotten really popular, he says, especially at hospitals. Walking the path helps people who have stuff like high blood pressure or who can’t relax. He says that the twists and turns are s’posed to represent the twists and turns in life.”

The child sounded like a brochure that detailed the hospital’s services. “He’s right. The labyrinth helps people put the bad things in perspective.”

“Is that why you’re here? So you can put the bad stuff in pers…pers…pective?”

Hannah’s insight surprised her. Sierra began visiting the garden during her lunch hour as part of her mental-health regimen when she’d first joined the medical staff. Walking the circular concrete pathways, which were lined with colorful petunias, helped her deal with stress, especially after she lost a patient. She also knew of several surgeons who walked the labyrinth in order to clear their heads before performing surgery.

“Yes, I do,” Sierra said. “Why do you come here? To be outdoors instead of being cooped up inside?”

Hannah shrugged. “I like this place. My mom died of cancer when I was little, and whenever I get sad, I walk until I feel better. Do you think she might have lived if there’d been a lab-y-rinth at her hospital?”

Hannah’s matter-of-fact tone didn’t minimize the compassion Sierra felt for her. Oddly enough, she almost wanted to give her nameless uncle a break. Being a single parent or, in this case, an uncle wasn’t easy, especially when one dealt with an obviously precocious child like Hannah.