Richard felt his knees go weak. “That’s impossible,” he muttered.

Maria drew a steadying breath. She knew this wasn’t in her job description, she said, but seeing Ethan so sad had reminded her of techniques her grandmother had used in a small town in New Mexico. Her grandmother had cared for people with similar problems.

Richard snapped, accusing her of suggesting that an untrained woman could do what the best neurologists in the country could not. Tears welled in Maria’s eyes, but she didn’t back down.

She wasn’t claiming to know more than doctors, she said—only that she wanted to help the boy feel a little better.

Ethan looked at his father, blue eyes glowing with new hope. “Dad, I felt tingling in my leg,” he said. It was the first time in a long time he sounded excited.