Kiah was sure of that.
What was important now was helping Mina come to some kind of peace with the loss of her hand. Kiah had watched her, listened to her, and wasn’t fooled by the happy face she was showing the world. Even without her breakdown when he’d arrived at her apartment, he’d have known. Sometimes, when she didn’t realize he was watching, he saw her agony of spirit in the downturned lips and shadowed eyes, and he wanted to grab her, hold her, tell it would all work out.
But he knew better than to shatter the illusion she tried so hard to keep up, since doing so would make her retreat, probably all the way back to Canada. Mina always had to feel in control—of herself, her world. Losing her hand, and that sorry excuse for a husband, had shaken her confidence, and he wanted to help her get it back.
He’d also done a lot of research since her accident, wanting to be able to offer all the support and assistance she could possibly need. In his estimation, she hadn’t gone through a proper mourning period. Instead, she’d used the excuse of Warren and his crap to push her feelings about the loss of her hand and her job aside, bottling it up inside.
Unless and until she could reconcile herself to her new reality, she’d be stuck. And while getting her back into the hospital setting would be good, he wasn’t sure how sitting in on the upcoming meeting would help. It would no doubt be dry and somewhat boring.
At least, he thought, as he heard her leave her room and walk down the corridor toward the front door and rose to follow, it would get her out of the house for a while.
Getting her out of her funk would probably be a lot harder.
Having hoped to put off any talk of going to the hospital to sign papers, at least for a few days, Mina had jumped at the chance of being included in the meeting. She’d ignored Kiah’s narrow-eyed look in her direction when she agreed to Miss Pearl’s suggestion, and now made sure to walk with the older lady, avoiding whatever comments he was planning to make.
Just being in the hospital had brought a rush of longing to prickle the backs of her eyes. Once upon a time, this would have been her milieu, a place she’d feel completely comfortable in. Now the bustle and scents of the hospital were somehow alien. Like wearing a piece of clothing you used to love, which had shrunk in the dryer and just didn’t fit properly anymore.
The minister of health’s eyebrows rose when Mina was introduced to her.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Haraldson,” she said, giving Mina’s hand a firm shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and I’m happy you’ve decided to lend your expertise to our efforts regarding the Clinicians’ Union over the next month.”
Mina had to resist turning to glare at Kiah. Obviously, he’d made her participation out to be a done deal and, since she prided herself on her reliability, she was now well and truly trapped for at least a month. It could be longer, depending on what exactly they needed her to do. She wasn’t one to leave a job half done.
But there was nothing for it but to smile at the minister and say, “It’s my pleasure, Minister Barrows.” But as soon as the minister turned to go to her chair at the head of the table, Mina sent Kiah a look that promised retribution.
He responded with the sweetest of smiles, which just annoyed her even more.
“As you all know, there have been several cases of chikungunya reported on Trinidad,” Minister Barrows said. “And we need to make sure we’re doing everything possible to try to protect St. Eustace from a similar outbreak.”
“We haven’t had a major outbreak of a vector-borne disease on the island since the early 1990s,” Miss Pearl said, obviously for Mina’s sake. “Although there has been an increase in cases, year over year, for the past five years.”
The representative from the Public Health division nodded, adding, “We have an ongoing program of public service announcements aimed at reminding citizens how to minimize the mosquito population, and be mindful of being bitten. So far, they seem to be effective.”
As the meeting went on, Mina was surprised at how interested she became. The minister spoke about their reluctance to restart a fogging program, since it was hard on wildlife and people who had any weakness of the lungs. Then she grilled everyone on how they could beef up the existing mosquito eradication program. When all that was suggested was an increase in the frequency of the public service announcements on the television and radio, Mina found herself interjecting.
“How old are the announcements?”
Minister Barrows wrinkled her brow and turned her gaze to the public health officer, who shrugged slightly and replied, “I believe they were developed either during or just after the 1992 dengue fever outbreak.”
“Why do you ask?” The minister looked back at Mina, that slight frown still in place.
“Well, you might want to consider doing a new set of PSAs, if the ones you’re using are almost thirty years old.”
The scowl intensified. “Why?”
“If you think about it, you have an entire generation—those younger than thirty—who don’t know what a major outbreak entails, and probably aren’t as cautious as they should be. Couple that with announcements so old that people probably don’t even listen to them anymore, and you have a recipe for the type of apathy that could derail your efforts.”
There were a few moments of silence while everyone considered her words, and Mina felt heat gathering at the back of her neck.
