“You must be Brett,” said the white-coated, middle-aged lady who greeted him.
“Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”
The woman smiled. “Just a hunch. Mr. Rushton will be with you presently. There was just a last-minute delay.”
Brett started to worry. Was something wrong? Wasn’t Jake fully healed?
“Don’t worry, it was nothing serious.” The woman patted Brett’s arm. “Mr. Rushton couldn’t decide what he wanted to wear.”
Brett laughed nervously. Then, remembering his visual disturbances—although they hadn’t occurred for a while now—Brett thought he’d take Terry’s advice and ask about them.
The woman listened patiently, asked a number of probing questions, and ended with, “And you say the intern on call said you should attempt the healing yourself?”
Not wanting to get the young woman into trouble,
