The Shadow Wife - Diane Chamberlain [117]
“What I wish,” Alan said as he polished off his second glass of champagne, “is that Carlynn could train people to do what she does. There’s only one Carlynn to go around, and it’s just not enough.”
“I hate turning people away when I know I can help them,” Carlynn agreed. “And it’s not like there’s someone I can refer them to.”
“Do you think that what you do is a trainable skill?” Gabriel asked. “Or do you think it’s a true gift?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Carlynn said. “I barely understand it any better than I did when I was sixteen.”
“She’s tried to train me,” Alan said with a self-deprecating smile that Lisbeth found endearing. “I’m apparently untrainable.”
“I believe that my…techniques, for want of a better word…may be something other people can learn to do,” Carlynn said, “in spite of Alan’s experience. My fantasy is that, if I could figure out what works and what doesn’t, and we could somehow prove that what I do has validity, and we could offer a scientific explanation for it…then I could train people in what works, and those people could train other people, and there would be a whole lot more healing to go around. But it would require years and years of research to get to that point, and I don’t have enough time to breathe right now, much less add another facet to my work.”
“What if you could create an institute of some sort, where you could just focus on the research?” Gabriel cut a piece of cheese and handed it to Lisbeth with a chunk of bread.
Carlynn and Alan exchanged a look. “We’ve actually talked about that,” Alan said. “It’s a pipe dream, though. We couldn’t afford to give up our practices, and it would take a lot of money to get something like that off the ground and keep it going.”
“Well,” Gabriel said, “maybe you could treat people there as well as do the research. You’d just have to get enough funding for it so you weren’t dependent on seeing X number of patients a day.”
“Oh my God,” Carlynn said, looking up at the sky. “How I would love that!” Lisbeth couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard such enthusiasm in her sister’s voice.
“I could help you apply for grants,” Gabriel said. “I’ve written so many grant applications for research at SF General that I could write them in my sleep.”
“Where would they apply?” Lisbeth asked her husband. It was one thing to find grant money for the customary studies SF General would embrace. How would Gabriel find money for something most of the world considered quackery?
“In the beginning, you’d need some seed money to get you started,” Gabriel said. “Then once you’re up and running—and showing some results—it shouldn’t be that hard to get more.” He smiled ruefully. “Not impossible, anyway. And I love a good challenge.”
“Are you serious, Gabe?” Carlynn asked him.
“Completely serious.”
“This would be great.” Alan sat up straight, a look of excitement on his face. “Carlynn and her reputation would be our draw, of course, and I could design and direct the research. You could be our financial guy, Gabe. And Lisbeth could run the whole shebang.”
“What would you call it?” Lisbeth asked.
“The Healing Research Institute of San Francisco,” Alan said, and Lisbeth knew this was not the first time he’d said that name to himself.
“We need Carlynn’s name in there, though,” Lisbeth said. “People need to know she’s behind it.”
“The Carlynn Shire Center for Healing,” Alan suggested.
“No,” Gabriel advised. “Leave out the healing part. The word is too charged. Just call it the Carlynn Shire Medical Center.”
“You’re all just dreaming, right?” Carlynn asked. “You’re tormenting me with this.”
“Everything worthwhile starts with a dream, Carly,” Alan said, and he passed her the bottle of champagne.
Carlynn was coming back to life, and she hadn’t truly known she’d been away. She chattered endlessly as she and Alan drove