Page 67 of Healing Hazel

He glanced to where she sat next to her father, and he knew more than he knew anything that he was in love with Hazel Thornton. And he had no doubt that she loved him in return.

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Hazel had left the next day.

Jim and the other members of the medical staff had come to the front of the hospital to bid her farewell, and then they waved as the carriage drove away.

He hadn’t said anything profound. He couldn’t think of anything that hadn’t already been said and couldn’t find any words that felt right.

In the end, he’d clasped her hand and, under the watchful gaze of her father, thanked her for her service to the International Red Cross and reminded her to drink often and rest.

That was it. He’d actually spent more time bidding farewell to Captain Bryant.

He sighed, sitting on the steps in front of the hospital’s entrance. Weeks had passed since Hazel had tearfully embraced the nurses and Mrs. Laurent, since she’d taken a last long look at the imposing facade of the monastery before holding her father’s hand and climbing into the waiting carriage, and still Jim could not shake off the gloom her leaving had caused. It was as if a light inside him had been extinguished.

He’d been irritable with the staff, curt with the patients, and restless, pacing late into the night. Surely this despondency could not last.

He rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the road leading away from the hospital.

The day after Hazel had departed, Camila had brought him the small drawing, telling him she’d found it in Hazel’s bedchamber. Whether she’d left it deliberately or not, Jim assumed he’d never know, but he treasured the image and often found himself staring at it late into the night, long after his lamp was extinguished and he could no longer see it in the darkness.

The front door creaked open, and Jim recognized Dr. Laurent’s footsteps as he came down the stairs to sit next to him.

“Ah, zhere you are, my friend. I hoped for an opportunity to talk.”

“Looking for marriage advice already?” Jim asked dryly.

Dr. Laurent chuckled. “Ah no. I am still in zhe phase of zhe... how do you call it? Zhe honeymoon?” He stretched out his legs in front of him and leaned back. “In truth, I hoped to offer some advice to you if you are willing to hear it.”

Jim shrugged.

“My friend, it is time to stop punishing yourself for your brother’s death.”

Jim blinked, turning to face the man. He had not expected such a direct statement from the amiable man, and the words infuriated him. “I beg your pardon?” he said sharply.

Dr. Laurent did not appear at all put off by Jim’s anger. “Jim, you deserve happiness.”

“I’m not happy?” He snorted.

“Are you?” Dr. Laurent spoke the words softly.

The genuine compassion in his voice deflated Jim’s anger. “I don’t know,” he said. “And I don’t think it matters. A patient’s health doesn’t improve or decline based on his doctor’s cheerful temperament.”

“Would you care to hear my diagnosis, Dr. Jackson?” Dr. Laurent asked, joining his hands across his chest.

Jim raised his brows and lifted his hand, indicating that Dr. Laurent could say whatever he wished.

“You are here, at zhe Red Cross Hospital, because you hope to prove something, even if it is only to yourself. You hope to make it right, what happened to Teddy. To atone. You believe you must save as many people as you can, each one a penance for zhe most important one, zhe one you were not able to save.”

Jim frowned, not liking how close his friend’s words came to ringing true. “And you consider yourself an alienist now?”

Dr. Laurent shrugged. “I say only what I see.”

Jim pointed with his thumb at the doors behind him. “These people need me. I do what I do to save lives, not to make up for what happened to Teddy.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed by the rush of emotion the mention of his brother’s death caused.

“Oui, my friend. And you do it better zhan anyone I have ever met.” Dr. Laurent sat up, his face becoming more animated. “But you do it at zhe expense of your own life.”

Jim stared ahead at the road through the mountains. The trees cast shadows across it, as if to hide any indication of who had come this way and who had gone. Jim wondered if, once he was gone from this life, any memory would remain of his ever having been here.

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