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“He’s really good at what he does. I guess I’m lucky to get trained by him, right?”
“I guess so.” She tapped her foot. “Tough though. Real tough.”
“You said it. He’s a total dick.”
She laughed and covered her moth. “You said it, not me.”
“It’s true though, right?” I moved closer to her. “I see the way the nurses stare at him. They don’t like him, right?”
“Some do, some don’t. It’s kind of hard to say. He’s not really nice, sort of abrupt, you know? Like says what he wants, and isn’t really nice about it, but I guess most doctors are like that. No offense.”
“It’s okay, I’m not really a doctor yet anyway.”
“Close enough.” She seemed relieved that I wasn’t offended. “Dr. Hood is nice enough to me, I guess. And he’s real handsome.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I hadn’t noticed.”
She laughed and I could tell she was embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have said that. Not professional, I know.”
“It’s okay, I’m joking around. I know what he looks like.” I had a sudden idea, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t help myself. “Has he ever, you know, dated someone from the hospital?”
She laughed and shook her head, and I felt a sudden, odd rush of relief. “God, no, no way. I mean, some of the girls try to flirt with him, and maybe he flirts back. I bet he could date half the hospital, if he really wanted, but no, I never heard of him going out with anyone. He keeps to himself, I think. Does his surgeries, goes home at night. That sort of thing. Not a super nice guy, but good to look at and good at his job.”
“That’s been my impression too,” I said. “I wonder if I can get him to loosen up.”
“You do that, and you’ll be everyone’s favorite girl at this hospital.” She put her hand on my arm, then the elevator arrived, and we rode down in a comfortable silence.
I could see Piers as the king of his hospital, if only he put a modicum of effort into playing the political game. Kirsten was right, he was incredibly handsome, and when he wanted to flirt—well, thinking about it made me blush, and I still had to get through the day with him.
But he could be charming, if he wanted. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t turn it on for the administrators, or even for the Tippett family. I bet he could’ve talked himself out of his problems, if he really wanted to.
That was strange, actually. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. If he could be so charming, why not apply that skill to the rest of his life? He clearly understood the benefits of making friends.
And yet he chose not to.
Strange, genuinely strange.
I wanted to ask him, but first I’d have to find a way to phrase it without making me look like a total psycho.
12
Piers
Lori came yawning into the operation room and that set my jaw on edge. She looked tired, like she’d been out all night. It wasn’t even that early—seven in the morning, which meant we had to be at the hospital around four. I’d done earlier, and never once complained.
I pushed her out of my mind. The patient was a woman named Janet Wrench. It was a relatively simple procedure, though still major. We were replacing the mitral valve, though I wanted to see if it could be repaired first before making a final decision. Lori hung over my shoulder as we began, and she fell from my thoughts as the work flowed.
I loved surgery. I felt like a conductor leading an orchestra, standing in the middle of my operation room, doing something incredible. I lost myself to the actions, the movements, and sometimes I forgot that I was supposed to be teaching Lori. When I remembered, I spoke out loud what I was doing, how I was doing it, and why I chose to do it that way. She listened with rapt attention as I showed her the prolapsing portion of the mitral valve that had to be removed. I gently cut it, moving with swift, precision, then paused as I turned to her. This was the easy part: sewing the cut section back together.
I held the instruments toward her. “You do it.”
Her eyes went wide. “Me?”
“You sew it. You know how?”
She nodded. “I was trained, but—”
“Do it.”
The nurses stared at me, but Lori took the instruments, stepped into position, and leaned over the patient.
She didn’t move for a long moment, and I didn’t rush her. If she needed to get her mind prepared, that was fine with me. I wanted her to take her time and do it correctly, and there was no clock, no score card keeping track of how quickly she saved a life.
