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past ten years?”
    â€œRight here,” Cherisse said. “I just don’t follow football.” She faintly recalled that the Broncos had a black quarterback with the last name Payne. So, he was the African-American who owned the resort. That couldn’t be her Harry!
    â€œWell, if you’d met Harry you would remember it,” Katy said with a dreamy expression.
    Cherisse laughed. “Why? Is he drop-dead gorgeous?”
    â€œHe’s no pretty boy,” Katy said, giving her considered opinion. “But he’s definitely all man!”
    Suddenly the lights connected to Amy Whitehall’s life support monitors began blinking on the monitor bank. Looking up, Cherisse wondered where Gerald was. A moment later, her question was answered when Gerald’s voice came over the intercom.
    â€œI need help right now!” he yelled frantically. “Amy’s seizing.”
    â€œKaty, come with me,” Cherisse ordered.
    They ran down the corridor to Amy’s room, their sneakers squeaking on the tiles.
    The girl on the bed was bucking violently, and Gerald was cradling her in his arms, trying to prevent her from hurting herself.
    Cherisse immediately assessed the situation. According to Amy’s chart the neighbor who’d brought her in didn’t recall her being on any medications. This reaction was obviously due to her injury or perhaps due to the infection.
    She was on antibiotics for the infection. The side effects of the drug did not include seizure activity.
    Turning to Katy, she ordered, “Twenty milligrams of phenobarbital, stat!”
    Katy didn’t hesitate, she ran to get the drug.
    In her absence, Cherisse joined Gerald on the bed with Amy. The girl’s pale skin now glistened with perspiration. Her scalp was bandaged to protect her skull where it had been fractured. But the girl was bucking so wildly that Cherisse feared she might hit her head and reopen the wound, so she climbed into the bed and sat behind her with a pillow pressed to her bosom. Amy hit her head repeatedly against the pillow.
    Katy returned with the syringe filled with the drug and Gerald held Amy down long enough for Cherisse to administer it.
    It took a few minutes for the drug to work, but it was effective. Amy’s body stopped jerking involuntarily, and the girl’s breathing returned to normal. Cherisse gently moved away from the bed and helped Gerald place Amy in as comfortable a position as possible.
    Seeing how shaken Gerald was, Cherisse told him to leave the room. She and Katy would handle everything from this point on.
    When he was out of earshot, Katy said, “That seizure wasn’t a sign that she’s on the road to a full recovery, was it?”
    Cherisse wasn’t willing to give up just yet. She’d seen patients with injuries worse than Amy’s pull through. “She’s young and strong. And as long as she’s breathing, there’s hope.”
    Katy laughed shortly. Nurses either saw the humor in their lives or they developed ulcers or a taste for drugs or alcohol. “Okay, Mother Teresa.”
    Cherisse smiled at her as she took Amy’s wrist between her fingers and felt her pulse.
    It was still a little rapid, but was slowing down. She reached up and smoothed the crinkly black hair out of Amy’s face. As pale as the child’s skin was, one would expect her to have blond hair or perhaps be a redhead like Katy, but she had coal-black hair that was thick and curly. Cherisse suspected there was some African-American blood in her veins.
    Denver was a diverse city with many interracial couples among its population.
    â€œShe’s going to be okay,” she said. It was more a prayer than a statement. Looking at Katy, she said, “Go tell Gerald he needs to contact Amy’s primary and fill him or her in. He might be too upset to remember that.”
    Amy’s primary physician was probably the doctor who had been in charge of