As agreed, Bessie meets Della St. Cloud the following Saturday morning at precisely ten a.m. outside the Nurses Station on the third floor, west wing of Ravenspond General Hospital.
Della, grinning in yellow flowered scrubs, walks out from behind the counter where she is chatting with a doctor. “There you are! Doctor Acharya, meet our newest volunteer, Bessie MacIntyre.”
The doctor looks at Bessie intently with dark intelligent eyes. “You were a patient here about a year and a half ago. Not expected to survive, but you pulled through against all odds.” His skin is a beautiful shade of brown. His accent is something Bessie recognizes from television as being from India. He extends his hand to her. “Welcome.”
Shyness overcomes her for a moment. She can feel her pale freckled face reddenin
