his surgical tools.  He turned around to see her.  The look on her face, alone, must have said something, because before she could say anything, the doctor offered her a chair to sit down, and sat down across from her.  He was ready to listen, his expression intent.

     “Something mighty important weighing on your mind,” Dr. Hall said, waiting for Dessie to say her peace.  He could tell she was searching for the right words and was struggling so hard to find them.  “Go on.  What’s on your mind?”

     She wanted to find words that were delicate, and not accusing, as Sarah’s had been, and she danced around her choices for a few minutes.  Dr. Hall stared at her, but waited patiently.  Dessie knew there was really...

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