walk once more. “Mrs. Keller. Third trimester. Twins.”
“Yes.” The young man hustled to keep pace. “Baby A seems to be in distress.”
“What is the heart rate?”
“One twenty and has been steady, but has been down to ninety.”
“Has a nonstress test been done yet?”
The resident flipped open the chart, read for a few moments. “No.”
“Do it. And page me the instant you have the results. We want to keep those babies in the womb as long as possible.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Before she released the resident, Anna asked him several questions, assuring herself he had a full and complete understanding of the patient’s condition and needs. Mrs. Keller was under Anna’s care, and as such, Anna would allow nothing less than absolute competency when it came to her patients.
“My meeting shouldn’t last any longer than half an hour,” Anna said as the reached the elevator. She hit the up arrow. “I’ll be back down to check on Mrs. Keller then.”
The resident nodded and was about to leave when Anna said, “And, Doctor . . .” He stopped and faced her. “I don’t want to see you out of uniform again.”
Perplexed, he stared at her.
She pointed to his empty lapel. Rules were meant to be followed. “Your hospital ID badge. Find it.”
“Yes, Dr. Adams.” He couldn’t hurry away fast enough.
Anna had no doubt that when she checked in on him later, his ID would be in place.
She took the elevator to the sixth floor. As she made her way down the carpeted corridor, she could see outside through the large windows that lined the hallway. It was a dull, drizzly May day. Typical for this time of year. Veteran Seattleites knew that while they might get a few nice days during the summer months, the early fall was when the true beauty of the Pacific Northwest was revealed. But even the dismal weather could not dampen her mood.
At the far end of the hallway, she reached her destination. The door was closed, but that was to be expected.
She drew in a deep breath and smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles from her perfectly pressed white coat. She put her stethoscope into one of the large front pockets, then ran a hand along her upswept hair. Assured everything was in order, she gave two short taps on the glass portion of the door.
“Come in.”
Anna opened the door and entered. Seated behind a large mahogany desk in the spacious office was Dr. Shephard, her mentor and chief of staff of Seattle Trinity. In the nearly ten years she’d known him, very little about Dr. Shephard had changed. A few more wrinkles creased his skin, his hair had gone completely white, but his eyes were still as sharp as ever.
“Anna.” He rose and came around the side of the desk, taking her hand in his. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience?’
“Not at all.” She took the seat he indicated.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Dr. Shephard refilled his cup and then came around to the front of his desk. Moving a picture of his wife aside, he sat down on the edge. “I know how busy you are, so let’s get right to it then.” He paused. “I’m sure you know why I’ve asked to meet with you.”
She tapped down her growing enthusiasm. “I’m not certain,” she hedged.
Dr. Shephard’s smile was knowing. “Dr. Bernard,” he said, referring to the head of the neonatal unit, “has requested an indefinite leave of absence.”
Anna clasped her hands in her lap and willed them to stop trembling. “I had heard something to that effect.”
Dr. Shephard gave a short nod. “His wife’s cancer has returned, and he has decided to take time off to be with her.”
“I was very sorry to hear about Gloria.”
“We all are, but I’m sure you understand what his leaving means.”
Of course she knew. The position as head of the neonatal unit was open. From the first day she’d entered medical school and known obstetrics was the field she’d wanted to specialize in, that had been the position she’d aimed for. And to achieve it, she’d worked longer and harder than anyone else.
“You have a true gift, Anna. One I’ve rarely seen.”
“Thank you,” she said, warmed by his praise.
He smiled, and in that smile she saw the years he had been beside her, teaching, mentoring, and then the later years when he stood across from her in the operating room as her equal. “I couldn’t be