{"id":1254,"date":"2009-03-30T15:57:00","date_gmt":"2009-03-30T20:57:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=1254"},"modified":"2009-03-30T15:57:00","modified_gmt":"2009-03-30T20:57:00","slug":"salty-like-blood-by-harry-kraus-md","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=1254","title":{"rendered":"Salty Like Blood by Harry Kraus, M.D."},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n
Harry Kraus, M.D.<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Salty Like Blood <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Howard Books (March 24, 2009)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>
\nHarry Kraus, M.D., is a board-certified surgeon whose contemporary fiction, including Stainless Steel Hearts, is flavored with medical realism. A bestselling author, he has also written two works of nonfiction. He currently lives with his family in Kenya, where he is serving as a full-time medical missionary.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $13.99
\nPaperback: 352 pages
\nPublisher: Howard Books (March 24, 2009)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 1416577890
\nISBN-13: 978-1416577898<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Rachel and I tumbled into the tall grass at the bottom of the hill, having survived yet another Daddy-just-one-more sled ride from the edge of our front porch. I collapsed on my back, trying to find oxygen between gasps of laughter and looked up at the summer sky. My daughter, with limbs sprawled in a wide \u201cX\u201d and her head against my foot, shouted her delight toward the house. \u201cWe did it! We made it!\u201d<\/p>\n

Seconds before, airborne and soaring toward record distance, Rachel reached for an octave above the normal human voice range, squealing a note that rang on in my head and I suspected invited half the neighborhood\u2019s canine population to play. I laughed and put my fingers in my ears, rolling them in an exaggerated twist as if she\u2019d deafened me.<\/p>\n

She moved to lay her head upon my chest and quieted herself there, listening to my racing heart.<\/p>\n

I stroked her hair, inhaled the scent of mown grass, and nestled my head back into the tickle of green.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it okay?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s too fast,\u201d she said, raising up and pushing a bony elbow into my gut.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh so now you\u2019re the doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled. \u201cSomeday,\u201d she said. \u201cFor now, you\u2019re the doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry. I\u2019m okay.\u201d I scowled at my first-grader. \u201cReally.\u201d<\/p>\n

We rested together, staring at the sky full of clouds of hippopotamus, horses, rockets\u2014whatever Rachel imagined. Mostly I gasped and oohed. In a moment, I found myself blinking away tears, overwhelmed with the enormity of it all.<\/p>\n

It was so ordinary. A summer Saturday morning without an agenda. It\u2019s hard for me to describe beyond the sense I had of emerging, as if I\u2019d been submerged for so long, and now, just to play and laugh and roll in the grass seemed a joy that would burst my heart. I smiled, taking it in, gulping in ordinary life as if I\u2019d never have a chance again.<\/p>\n

As Rachel chatted on with her running commentary of sky castles, fiery dragons and fairies, other images drifted through my mind, pictures of painful chapters that set my current joy into sharp contrast. Traveling with Joanne through the dark tunnel of post-partum depression. My mother\u2019s battle with cancer. Memories of an intensive care unit visit while I was the too-young patient, watching my own heart monitor and wondering if life would be cut short.<\/p>\n

Joanne\u2019s voice swept me into the here and now. \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up to see her standing on the covered porch, eyeing a bottle of vegetable oil sitting on the white railing.<\/p>\n

Rachel lifted her head. Her blond hair dotted with grass seed. \u201cWe\u2019re sledding, Mommy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joanne\u2019s hands rested firmly on her hips. \u201cIt\u2019s July, David.\u201d She picked up the bottle. \u201cAnd I\u2019ve been looking for this.\u201d She was serious, but her eyes betrayed her attempt at scolding me. Her happiness at my delight in our little Rachel couldn’t be spoiled by my summer antics.<\/p>\n

I exchanged a mischievous glance with Rachel. She betrayed me in a heartbeat. \u201cIt was Daddy\u2019s idea.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWomen!\u201d I said, grabbing my daughter by the waist and swinging her around in a circle. \u201cYou always stick together!\u201d<\/p>\n

As I trudged up the hill with Rachel folded around my back, I grunted exaggerated puffs. \u201cYou\u2019re getting so big.\u201d<\/p>\n

I set her on the top step and kissed her forehead. She started pulling away. \u201cWait.\u201d I picked at the seeds in her hair.\u201cYou\u2019ll need to brush this out.\u201d<\/p>\n

She opted for the shake-it-out method. \u201cI\u2019m a rock star.\u201d<\/p>\n

I smiled. My star. For Joanne and I, Rachel had been the glue that helped us stick together through a valley of misery.<\/p>\n

Joanne reappeared carrying lemonade in tall, sweaty glasses. She handed me one and kissed me. She had thin lips to go with sharp, elegant features, dark eyes alight with mystery, and hair the color of caramel. She could have been a model before big lips became the rage.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d been to hell and back with Joanne, but the last six months, I\u2019d sensed a real change in her. She seemed settled somehow. Content. More romantic toward me\u2014like she had been back in my medical school days. Our relationship, once teetering on the precipice of divorce, was now solidly a safe distance from the edge. I\u2019d seen significant pieces of my life\u2019s puzzle fall together in the last few years. When the marriage one finally clicked into place, everything else brightened with it. It was as if I\u2019d been living my life in black-and-white and someone just invented color.<\/p>\n

I kissed her back, trying to discern her mood. There seemed a surface calm, but I sensed a deeper stirring. I\u2019d become a champion at reading her. I knew the quiet of her bitterness, the bubbly way she prattled on when she felt guilty, and the aloofness that dared me to pursue her into bed. For a moment, our eyes met. It was only a flash, but in that instant, I felt the a foreboding that threatened my wonderful ordinary-life euphoria.<\/p>\n

I took her hand. \u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d She lowered her voice, but even at that volume, sharp irritation cut at the edges of her words, clipping them into little fragments.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour father.\u201d<\/p>\n

I raised my eyebrows in question.<\/p>\n

\u201cHis neighbor called.\u201d<\/p>\n

I waited for more, but it seemed the silence only uncapped her annoyance. In a moment, she was on the verge of tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe always does this. Every time we have plans, he has a crisis.\u201d<\/p>\n

Plans. The practice was dining at the country club tonight.<\/p>\n

I started to protest, but she interrupted, pushing her finger against my lips. \u201cYou know they\u2019re going to announce that you\u2019ve made partner.\u201d<\/p>\n

I smiled. Partner. A year early. Just reward for the practice\u2019s highest revenue-producer nine months in a row. Another puzzle piece in my wonderful life about to connect.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich neighbor?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat Somali family,\u201d she said, flipping her hand in the air. \u201cA woman. She has an accent. She said his place is a wreck. He\u2019s ill.\u201d She seemed to hesitate before adding. \u201cHe\u2019s asking for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was my father\u2019s way. The crab-fisherman wouldn\u2019t pick up the phone and let me know he needed me. He sent word around the block and expected me to show. \u201cDefine \u2018ill.\u2019 \u201d<\/p>\n

Joanne imitated the neighbor\u2019s accent. \u201cMister Gus isn\u2019t eating. He toilets in the bedroom.\u201d<\/p>\n

I groaned. Whatever the neighbor meant, I knew it couldn\u2019t be good. I walked into the house to my study and picked up the phone. I was listening to the endless ringing on the other end when Joanne entered. \u201cNot a good sign,\u201d I said. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t pick up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are we going to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at my wife. Petite. Strong. And so able to read my thoughts.<\/p>\n

She threw up her hands. \u201cWe\u2019re going to the shore,\u201d she said. \u201cJust like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded. I was predictable. Family first. We had to go.<\/p>\n

She glared at me. I read the silence, loud and clear. That\u2019s why I love you . . . and hate you.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll call Jim. The practice will understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joanne shook her head. \u201cThis is your night, David. The moment you\u2019ve been waiting for. And you throw it away because of family.\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t say anything. She had me pegged.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll see if Kristine will take Rachel for the weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s take her with us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joanne\u2019s face hardened. \u201cWith us? That place is so . . . \u201c She paused, apparently mulling over adjective options. \u201c . . . crusty.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was the gentlest description of several other options that came to mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll take care of the crisis and stay at that seaside bed and breakfast. It will be fun. A chance for her to see her grandfather.\u201d I let a hopeful smile tease at the corners of my lips. \u201cEven if he is crusty he does adore her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joanne sighed in resignation. \u201cYes he does.\u201d She tipped her glass against mine. \u201cAs long as we don\u2019t have to sleep there,\u201d she said, shivering as if that thought was horrifying. She gave me a don\u2019t-even-try-to-cross-me look. \u201cYou\u2019re driving.\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked out onto the porch and into the humidity we Virginians call \u201csummer.\u201d As I called for Rachel, I followed the border of the house, my prize lawn soft beneath my bare feet. From her perch on the back deck, my daughter ambushed me with open arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan we sled some more?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the blue sky and my Southern Living home, and I pushed aside a fleeting presence. A ripple beneath the calm.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d been through too many hard times to trust the peace. Nothing this great can last forever.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re going to Grandpa Conners\u2019,\u201d I said, trying my best to sound excited.<\/p>\n

Rachel wrinkled her nose. To her, the shore meant stinky crabs and everything smelling fishy.<\/p>\n

I poked her nose with a finger. \u201cYou\u2019re too much like your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

She poked me back. \u201cYou\u2019re too much like your father.\u201d<\/p>\n

A sudden breeze lifted Rachel\u2019s hair against my face. I stopped, looking east. In the distance, a small thundercloud hung over the horizon. Not today. I don\u2019t want to travel the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel in the rain.<\/p>\n

My daughter squeezed my neck, bringing a smile to my face and pushing my anxieties aside. I nestled my face into her hair, trying to find an earlobe. She giggled and everything seemed right again.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1254","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1254","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1254"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1254\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1256,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1254\/revisions\/1256"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1254"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1254"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1254"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}