Part 3
Nora pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and dried between her fingers. Through the open doorway, she could see Beth watching Sutter with the same expression she wore when a monitor reading didn’t fit the patient in front of her.
“I’ll be a few minutes,” Nora told her.
Sutter led the way to an unused consultation room. He closed the door and remained beside the table rather than taking the chair at its head.
For several seconds, he studied a small nick in the tabletop.
“You deserve an apology,” he said. “A proper one.”
Nora laid the folded towel in the wastebasket and waited.
“I decided that because you were quiet, you weren’t confident. When you agreed to help with extra work, I kept giving you more of it.” He rubbed a finger along the edge of the table. “I called that teamwork. It was convenient for me.”
She didn’t rescue him from the silence.
“Today was worse. I thought those dogs would put you in a situation you couldn’t manage. I wanted to see your composure fail.”
Nora kept her eyes on him.
“I had no professional reason to do that,” he continued. “I disregarded your responsibilities, and I used your willingness to help against you. I was wrong.”
He finally met her gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
A cart rattled past in the hall. Nora listened until its wheels faded.
“Thank you for saying it.”
Sutter let out a breath, but she hadn’t finished.
“I’ll always help clean up when there’s work to be done. I did it before I had this job, and I’ll keep doing it. The work isn’t the problem.”
“I understand.”
“I need you to understand the rest. You can’t make one person the solution to everything because she doesn’t make a scene.”
He nodded once.
“Judge my nursing,” she said. “Don’t judge how much I’ll put up with.”
“You’re right.”
She watched him for another moment, then drew the empty chair back into place beneath the table.
“All right. We can work from there.”
Sutter offered his hand. She shook it, then opened the door.
Beth was only a few feet away, pretending to read a notice on the wall.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Sutter paused as several staff members turned toward them. The room’s earlier gathering had thinned, but a veterinary technician, two nurses, and employees from housekeeping and maintenance were still nearby.
“I need to correct something publicly,” he said.
Beth turned away from the notice she hadn’t actually been reading.
“I’ve assigned work to Nora unfairly. My assumptions about her affected how I treated her, and that stops now.” He glanced toward the department entrance, then back at the people in front of him. “A person shouldn’t have to argue to receive professional respect. I expect better from this department, starting with myself.”
The housekeeping employee holding an empty laundry cart looked at Nora.
“She’s never made us feel small,” the woman said. “Not once. Even when we’ve had to ask her to move something after she just got it set up.”
Nora smiled at her. “Usually you’ve got a good reason.”
“Usually?”
“Almost always.”
The older maintenance worker beside the wall chuckled.
“She’s here before me half the time. I keep telling her the building will survive if she lets me unlock things first.”
Beth laughed, and the housekeeping employee pushed her cart toward the service corridor. A nurse’s phone sounded. The group broke apart as people checked messages and returned to work.
Nora picked up her assignment sheet from the rehabilitation desk. Sutter looked at it before she could unfold it.
“Your trauma coverage is still in place until six,” he said. “Check in with the charge nurse. She’ll put you where you’re needed.”
Beth held out her hand for the sheet.
“I can manage that.”
The dogs left later that afternoon with their handlers. Otis had to be persuaded that a warm patch of floor wasn’t a sufficient reason to postpone departure. Nora stayed back while Navarro got him moving, then walked with them to the exit.
Navarro stopped before following the others outside.
“I’ve been talking with rehabilitation about these visits,” he said. “Nothing large. Nothing without veterinary approval. Some of the patients miss being around working dogs.”
Nora watched Atlas pause beside the transport vehicle while his handler opened the door.
“There’d be a lot to consider.”
“That’s why I’d like your help.”
She glanced at him. “You haven’t even finished the paperwork from today.”
“I know. Apparently I needed to put the pen down for a minute.”
She laughed, and he looked relieved to have managed it.
Over the weeks that followed, the hospital reviewed the proposal. Rehabilitation staff worked with the veterinary team on supervision, patient consent, hygiene requirements, and the space the dogs would need. Nora volunteered to coordinate the nursing side, making sure the visits would fit the unit rather than interrupt care.
At the planning meeting, somebody proposed taking the dogs through several rooms in succession. Nora studied the route and pointed to the tight cluster of appointments at the bottom.
“Where do they rest?”
Navarro leaned over the schedule. “Otis will need more time.”
A rehabilitation staff member began marking changes beside the room list.
“We ask every patient first,” Nora said. “Anyone can decline. And if a handler says a dog needs to leave, we stop—even if somebody’s waiting.”
“Agreed.”
She turned the page. “The visits are company. They don’t replace clinical care.”
“That’s all I’ve been asking for,” Navarro said, tapping his pen against the schedule.
“Then give them time to enjoy it.”
By the end of the month, the revised schedule had room for water breaks, quiet space, and patients who preferred to watch from a distance. The veterinary team had signed off on its part. Rehabilitation had arranged staffing without making Nora responsible for every task herself.
She was checking the final list at the desk when the approval arrived.
Beth read the message over her shoulder. “Next month?”
Nora nodded.
From across the desk, Navarro took out his calendar.
“Then let’s book the first visit.”
Nora found a damp nose beside the edge of her chart before she noticed Navarro in the doorway.
“Atlas,” she said, looking down. “You’re early.”
“He disagrees,” Navarro told her. “He thinks you were supposed to be standing at the door.”
The first visit had begun on a Friday in May. After that, the team returned on alternating Fridays, and the dogs soon learned the route through the rehabilitation wing. They came with their handlers, settled only where they were invited, and took their breaks in the quiet space the hospital had reserved.
They also looked for Nora.
She put down her pen that morning and turned her chair away from the desk.
“Morning, crew.”
Atlas reached her while Kestrel was still inspecting a laundry cart passing behind her. Boone stretched out near an empty chair; by then Kestrel was moving closer and Otis was making his slower journey to her feet.
She checked with each handler before touching the dogs. Otis leaned against her ankle while she rubbed the loose fur behind his ear.
“Everybody ready?” Navarro asked.
Nora looked at the patient list. “We’ll start with the people who asked yesterday. There’s one more I’ll check with.”
Leonard Pike had been on the unit for several weeks. He did what his care required, answered direct questions, and spent much of his free time in a chair near the window. When other patients talked about their service, he usually let the conversation pass him by.
That afternoon, Nora found him watching the handlers bring the dogs into the visiting area.
“Would you like an introduction?” she asked.
He didn’t answer immediately. Atlas stood beside Navarro while Boone inspected the leg of a chair.
“I worked with dogs,” Leonard said at last…
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