She opened her eyes again but this time he could see it was an effort.
“Hey there.” He gave her his best reassuring smile. “You’re going to be fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Her eyes closed. Her voice was faint. “I’m going to die right here in my own department and your ugly face is the last thing I’ll see. There’s no justice.”
“You’re not going to die. It will ruin my reputation if you die. Time for the surgeons to take over and find out whether he hit something important.” He started to straighten up when she reached out and caught his arm.
“Promise me something, Ethan.” This time her tone was serious. Her face was white and he felt fear lurch from his chest to his throat. This was how people felt every day in this department, but not him. He was always on the other side of it. He was the one fixing, reassuring, dealing. He wasn’t the one worrying. Until now.
“Anything.”
“If I live, I get to be godmother to your children.”
If I live.
“I don’t have children.”
“But you will, one day. Two children and a dog. White picket fence. Maybe a rosebush.”
His laugh was shaky. “Don’t you ever give up?”
“Promise me.”
“I promise. If I ever have children, you’re godmother. It’s a deal.”
It was only later, when he’d washed Susan’s blood from his fingers and gone to sit on one of the hard plastic chairs near the operating room, that he realized he’d forgotten to call Harriet. A glance at his phone told him he was four hours late for their date.
She’d cooked him a special dinner, which no doubt was now congealed and ruined.
It had happened many times when he’d first got together with Alison, which was why they’d resorted to eating out. Solo eating in a restaurant wasn’t as frustrating as laboring for hours over food that was scraped into the trash.
This was the first time it had happened with Harriet.
He pulled out a phone but couldn’t face talking to anyone, so instead of calling he sent a text. Brief. Factual.
He’d deal with the fallout later.
How to ruin a relationship before it started.
A short time later he felt a hand on his shoulder and one of the nurses handed him a cup of coffee. Not the sort people gathered in coffee bars to drink. The vile-tasting stuff the hospital produced to make sure no one lingered longer than they had to.
He managed to thank her, although he was thanking her more for the sentiment than the actual coffee. He didn’t know its exact chemical makeup, but he doubted it had ever seen a coffee bean.
He knew he wasn’t the only one waiting for news of Susan, but he was the only one waiting outside the operating room. The police came to talk to him, hospital staff came and went, sent him sympathetic glances, murmured the occasional word, but mostly left him alone. They probably would have let him inside if he’d asked, but he wasn’t sure he could cope with that much reality right now.
He felt as if the edges of his world had blurred. Right now he was both doctor, and concerned friend. The doctor side of him kept thinking about all the various scenarios that could be taking place inside the operating room. The friend kept thinking about how he and Susan had been chatting only minutes before the man had appeared in the room.
He felt a hand on his shoulder again. He looked up expecting to see a nurse and was surprised to see Harriet.
Her coat was buttoned unevenly and she wasn’t wearing gloves. She’d obviously left the apartment in a hurry.
“I came as soon as I got your text.”
She’d come in person? It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she’d do that. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“The ruined dinner. I should have called, not sent a text.”