When the nurses and doctors had emailed reports, giving him updates while Ona recovered; no one reported on her marriage status.  This thought had marched in his mind when he'd seen her on the street and on this occasion his singleminded fascination didn't fail him.  Here he was, wanting to ask her for himself.

Lucien said...

“Good, good.  It’s always nice to hear good things about your staff.”

Ona was curious, so she asked...

“I hope you won’t think that this is an impertinent question but...do you employ the staff on this unit, or are they employed by the hospital?”

His lips curled, framing his entertained expression.

“There isn’t anything indelicate about that inquiry.  As a matter of fact...I believe when this hospital first opened, a reporter asked that very same question.”  His tranquil manner was soothing and his voice was like the grassy knolls that encircled her grandparent’s farm.

Lucien said...

“The medical staff assigned to the Delors hospital wing are technically employed by one of my family’s companies.  The nurses, therapist, and a few of the doctors; they manage our medical care”

Ona couldn’t begin to fathom what this meant, and her thoughts quieted without warning.

Lucien felt the fabric in his closed hand.  The object of question.  The band.  Was she or wasn’t she; that was the question.  He knew so little about her religion and even less about the Creedal band.  He’d considered being blunt, but he didn’t want to risk offending her.  Suddenly, the band felt like the weight of a dumbbell.  Due to the sensitive nature surrounding this topic, he couldn’t just blurt it out.  He wondered how many questions he would have to ask, until the moment presented itself, freeing him to ask the question that concerned him most.

He said...

“Is this your first time being treated in a hospital?”

“Yes.  Praise be to God, I’ve never been sick more than a few days in my entire life.”

“I see.” he said, because her response had not given him the answer he’d been searching for.  He hedged further saying...

“Are you familiar with the care offered at Samaritan hospitals?”

“I’ve never been a patient, but I’ve visited family members.  Our doctor’s are no different from any other doctor.  They attend medical schools.  Actually, medicine is a lifelong mission for Samaritan doctor’s.  You see...we believe in medical as well as spiritual healing.”

“I see.”  He was at a loss again, and Ona noticed his confusion.

“I am not the best person to explain our ways.  Perhaps you should address your questions to the Conclave.”

He sighed, then he waved his hand while shaking his head, when he said...

“No, no; there is no need for that.  I just want to be sure that we aren’t mistakenly neglecting to meet one of your religious needs.  I Just wish that I knew more about your faith...”

“It isn’t a faith Mr. Delors.”  She corrected him, but he needed to make her aware of something before she continued.

“Ona...please, call me Lucien.”

She’d been taken aback; but not in a bad way, because truthfully, she loved the sound of his name but she wasn’t sure if she’d feel comfortable saying it.  In spite of her misgivings, she had to assimilate because her project would bring her face to face with countless Non-Samaritans.

She smiled, then she continued her previous thought.

“Being a Samaritan is a way of life.”

He stared at her confused, then she smiled, saying...

“Think of it this way...  Samaritan’s pledge our entire lives to do good and to be helpful to mankind.  There is no greater deed, than to be of help to the helpless.  We model our lives after our savior...the Lord Jesus Christ.”

And the band; this is the thought that grappled in his brain--how did the band factor in.  But somewhere along the way, they seemed to have gotten off track, and he didn’t know how to politely divert her, getting her back on the topic that bugged him most.  Lucien supposed, if Ona had her way, she would have given him a crash course on what it means to be a Samaritan--but that would have to wait, and he could see a hint of disappointment in Ona’s eyes.  The room rocked with a blaring interruption when Rachel knocked on the door before entering, then she opened the door, pushing a small cart with a bevy of oils, lotions and imported creams.  His thirty-minutes were up and the time had passed to fast for him.

Rachel noticed his disappointment.  She said

"I can delay this session if you'd like"

She began a backwards trot, not giving Lucien or Ona time to process her statement.

"I'll just need to make a quick call to Dr. Stone.  She'd planned a series of test before adjusting to your recovery care plan "

Ona said...

"Please Rachel....that isn't necessary.  My clumsiness has already caused enough problems and I don't want to inconvenience you or the doctors."

Lucien's brow rose, because of her choice in words.

He blurted out

"Do you Remember the events from that day?  The accident that is.

Ona narrowed her eyes trying to ease back the black curtain that shielded that portion of her memory.  Her efforts appeared strange to Lucien but not to Rachel.  Her nurse had seen this before when one of the neurosurgeons' had been conducting one of his assessments.

Rachel said...

“Mr. Delors...I think she's referring to her project and her inability to perform without the assistance of others.”

Now Lucien was really confused and even more so when Rachel filled him in; speaking with a tone that would suggest she'd just completed a course in Samaritan studies.  According to the nurse, Ona had presented a proposal to the Samaritan Conclave, and her project had been approved.  She explained that the project would primarily help the cities children, by using art and animals in a variety of proven therapies.

Rachel looked alternately at both of them, as she tried to explain...

“While I was showing her brother how to operate the iPad, he explained your dilemma and the responsibilities you've tasked him with.  While he gave me a return demonstration he muttered."

Ona smiled then she said...

"He does that.  Mutter that is."

"Well--he was muttering a lot and when I offered to help him, he declined then said that if he needed help, he would find someone in your Sect.  But is that possible....I mean...I didn't think Samaritan's were in to the arts."

Ona confirmed her suspicions.

"No...we aren't...but if I weren't in here, I could have followed my plan--I had it all worked out."

Ona's emotions sagged then deflated.  She hadn't expected to learn that Caleb doubted himself capable to begin her project.  Caleb had suggested that she appeal to the Conclave, asking for an extension but delay could ultimately lead to denial; or worse.  Due to her hospitalization, the council could revoke her project, leaving her idle and forced to join her parents in Africa.  While her thoughts filled with the council and the Conclave, Rachel said...

"Ona...I'm very active at my church and quite frankly, I wished you would have asked me for my help.  Honey, i live in the city and not on a commune.  Most of my friends are either singers, actors or musicians.  Heck...my roommates brother is a sculptor.  Judd Marko...have you heard of him.”

Ona shook her head when she referred to the sculptor, mainly because she felt confused.  Rachel had figuratively let her hair down, referring to her patient using a term of endearment, instead of her legal name.  Actually, from the moment Ona woke, then oriented herself; of all the nurses, Rachel had been the friendliest.

Lucien had heard about the up and rising artist.  He addressed Rachel...

“I don’t mean to be forward, but, if you’re suggesting that you’d like to help Ona...maybe you should go and make a few calls.  Talk to your friends, and confirm which of them would be interested in helping.”