Page 16 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf

"Excellent idea," Ms. Grimsby agrees promptly. "Children, let's get out our magazines and scissors and work on our healthy food pictures."

As the children shuffle toward the art supplies, Maeve turns to me, her expression perfectly controlled.

"Dr. Reizenhart, may I speak with you in the hallway?" Her tone is polite but leaves no room for refusal.

I follow her out, conscious of the eyes tracking our exit. In the hallway, she closes the classroom door firmly before turning to face me.

I instantly feel the change in her demeanor, like a light switch being flipped. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes gleam with anger. Her chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath, and I find myself glancing down at her round bosom with mortified fascination.

Something is definitively up with that woman. My body shouldn’t be reacting this way.

"What were you thinking?" she demands, keeping her voice low but intense. "Telling a room full of five-year-olds they're going to die if they don't eat their vegetables?"

"I stated medical facts," I defend myself. "Improper nutrition does indeed lead to shortened life expectancy and increased morbidity."

"They're five years old!" She throws her hands up in exasperation. "You can't tell them they're going to die if they don't eat broccoli!"

"I was tasked with educating them," I repeat, my own irritation rising. "Coddling them with falsehoods does them no service."

"There's a difference between lying and being age-appropriate!" Her voice rises slightly, and she immediately modulates it. "Children need guidance that meets them where they are, not clinical facts that will give them nightmares."

"Facts are facts regardless of the listener's age," I counter. "Would you have me lie to them about other medical realities as well? Perhaps tell them broken bones are fixed by fairy dust?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She steps closer, and I catch the scent of something floral, her shampoo, perhaps. It makes the skin on my face feel like it’s catching fire and there I am again, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

Only this time, it makes me mad and anger helps dissipate some of that strange erotic fog. I’m a doctor. Heck, I was the highest surgeon in the High Elven Court for a decade. I was tasked with giving a lecture on nutrition and I did. Too bad the audience can’t face the fact that proper diet is the only logical choice.

“There are ways to communicate important information without traumatizing children,” she grits between her teeth. “That's part of being a good doctor."

"I'm an excellent doctor," I state firmly, my own anger rising alongside hers. I’ve never been spoken to this way. Not sinceIwas the child attending elementary school, anyway. "And perhaps this type of presentation is not a good use of my medical expertise."

"Medicine isn't just about facts." Her green eyes flash. "It's about people, Dr. Reizenhart. Real people with feelings and fears and different levels of understanding."

Our argument has grown louder, drawing the attention of the kindergarteners, who now cluster at the classroom door, watching wide-eyed through the glass door.

"Is Dr. Elf mad at Nurse Maeve?" one small voice asks. “I really don’t like him.”

Oh, perfect. Just what I need. Now I’m the villain.

"What's happening here?" Principal Braggstone's deep voice booms down the hallway as he strides toward us, frowning. "I could hear raised voices all the way in my office."

"Just a small misunderstanding about presentation approaches," Maeve says quickly, her professional demeanor snapping back into place. "Dr. Reizenhart was just finishing up his visit."

“I see,” the principal says, clearly not seeing anything. He places that proprietary hand on Maeve's shoulder again, and I fight the irrational desire to rip that hand right off his body. “You’re welcome to come back anytime. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”

The dismissal is clear, and while I should feel relieved that this ordeal is ending, I find myself unexpectedly reluctant to leave. Especially with Maeve looking uncomfortable under the principal's heavy hand.

"Thank you for the opportunity," I say stiffly. "I hope the information was useful despite the, um, communication challenges."

“I’m sure we’ll stick with our regular health program from now on.” Maeve says as she takes a step to the side, effectively shaking off Principal Braggstone’s grip.

I turn to leave, but not before catching Maeve's gaze one last time. She gives me a glare that clearly communicates her opinion of me and mycommunication challenges.

Just as my vision begins to blue around the edges while looking at her, I force myself to turn away. As I walk stiffly out of the school, my shoes squeak slightly on the polished floors.

I can feel her gaze on me all the way until I take a turn in the hallway.

Well, this was a waste of time, I tell myself as I finally step outside under the hot May sun.