Page 6 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

"Not worms."

"Ask Dr. Lacey."

"Dr. Lacey does hearts."

"She would know! She knows everything!" Debate over.

"Okay, killer. When we see her this afternoon, I'll ask."

Two-fifteen appointment. Twenty-two minutes to the hospital. There's a humming pressure that starts a day before and doesn't stop until Bonds says the good number. Then it's like morphine. I should be nicer to her.

Nah.

I picked Jess up, backwards jacket, wrong boots, and got my keys off the hook.

I'll ask about the worms. Jessica will get an answer about worms from her favorite doc.

4 - HAVEN

Lacey

The hospital corridors always smelled the same, antiseptic laced with the burnt edge of coffee drifting from the break room. I swiped my badge at the pediatric wing entrance and walked to my office on the third floor. I had the kind of reputation that brought me the hardest cases. Most days I earned it, but today my mind kept slipping back to Janice's words.

I dropped my bag, logged into the charting system, and scanned my afternoon schedule. Aiden first, then Emma. Jessica Harrington at two-fifteen.

Aiden was waiting with his mom, Sarah. Eight years old and six months post-ventricular septal defect repair. He sat on the table swinging his legs, a toy car clutched in his fist.

"Hey, champ," I said, crouching so we were eye to eye. "Ready to let me listen to that superhero heart?"

He nodded solemnly.

I slid my stethoscope under his shirt. Strong heart sounds, no murmur. Clean. I pulled up last week's echo. "Patch is solid. Blood flow's perfect. You can keep playing soccer with your team, just no headers for a while longer, okay?"

Sarah exhaled like she'd been holding her breath since surgery. "He's really okay?"

"He's great," I told her, smiling at Aiden. "See you in six months, buddy."

They left looking lighter.

Emma was next. Five years old with mild aortic stenosis. Her parents arrived with their spreadsheet, heart rates logged minute by minute during dance class. I respected the thoroughness, even when it felt like they were trying to out-diagnose me.

I examined her, listened closely, and took her to the echo room. "Valve's holding nice and steady." I pointed at the still frame. "No progression. She can stay in dance without limitations. Just watch for fatigue. If she's huffing hard after ten minutes, slow her down and call me."

Emma's mom hesitated. "We read about a balloon surgery online."

I met her eyes gently. "I've done dozens of those procedures. If it were time, I'd tell you. Right now it's not. Trust me on this one. I'll see you in one year."

Next, Jessica Harrington. I reviewed her chart beforehand. Tetralogy of Fallot, surgically repaired at four months, but still with a small hole between the ventricles, reducing her blood oxygenation. Worse, the scar from the surgery interferes with her conduction, making her heart rhythm unstable. Now four years old, Jessica had been my first patient as an attending physician. I had been warned as a pediatric fellow not to allow myself to become attached to my patients, but Jessica found a special place in my heart that I hadn't planned to give her.

Her father, Derek, had been a large and quietly intimidating presence. Her mother, Pamela, on the other hand, had been a real treat. She had been smart, funny, and vivacious. She reported breast lumps right after Jessica was born, but her Ob/Gyn had brushed it off, assuring her they were normal changes post-partum. By the time the diagnosis was made, months later, it was too late. The cancer had spread and she was gone right after Jessica's first birthday.

Derek had been devastated, then furious. He was wealthy and he donated his way onto the board and made no bones about the fact that he blamed us for incompetence. By the time he had become Chair of the Board of Directors, he had purged the hospital of Pamela's physician, and the director of the Ob/Gyn department. But I was a rising star in the small hospital. Pamela had trusted me and made Derek promise to let me take care of little Jessica. He did, but sometimes only grudgingly.

Jessica burst into the exam room, ponytail flying. "Dr. Lacey!"

I knelt and let her hug me tight. Strawberry shampoo, crayons, pure sunshine. "Hey, superstar. Got something for me today?"

She pulled a folded paper from her backpack, a crayon heart with wings and a stethoscope. "It's you fixing hearts."