was 4 p.m. Abby had been on duty since seven that morning. Already her calves ached from standing all day, and she had another twenty-four hours on duty to go. But she was on a high right now, buoyed by the success of this operation - and by the chance to operate with Mark. This was exactly how she'd pictured their future together: working hand in hand, confident of themselves and each other. Mark was a superb surgeon, swift yet meticulous. From the very first day she'd scrubbed in with him, Abby had been impressed by the comfortable atmosphere in his OR. Mark never lost his cool, never yelled at a nurse, never even raised his voice. She'd decided then that if she ever had to go under the knife, Mark Hodell was the one surgeon she'd want to be holding the scalpel.
Now she was working right beside him, her gloved hand brushing against his, their heads bent close. This was the man she loved, the work she loved. Just for this moment, she could forget Victor Voss and the crisis shadowing her career. Perhaps the crisis was over. No axe had yet fallen, no ominous message had been issued from Parr's office. In fact, ColinWettig had taken her aside this morning to tell her, in his usual gruff way, that she'd received outstanding evaluations for trauma rotation.
It will all work out, she thought as she watched the patient wheeled out to Recovery. Somehow, this will all turn out just fine.
"Excellent job, DiMatteo," said Mark, stripping off his OR gown. "I bet you say that to all the residents."
"Here's something I never say to the other residents." He leaned towards her and whispered: "Meet me in the call room."
"Uh... Dr. DiMatteo?"
Abby and Mark, both flushing, turned and looked at the circulating nurse, who'd just poked her head in the door.
"There's a call for you from Mr Parr's secretary. They want to see you in Administration."
"Now?"
"They're waiting for you," said the nurse, and she left.
Abby shot Mark a look of apprehension. "Oh God. Now what?"
"Don't let 'em rattle you. I'm sure it'll be OK. Want me to come with you?"
She thought it over a moment, then shook her head. "I'm a big girl. I should be able to handle this."
"If there's any problem, page me. I'll be right there." He gave her hand a squeeze. "That's a promise."
She managed to return the thinnest of smiles. Then she pushed through the OR door and headed grimly for the elevator.
With the same feeling of dread she'd felt last night, she stepped off onto the second floor and headed up the carpeted hall to Jeremiah Parr's office. Parr's secretary directed her around the corner to the meeting room. Abby knocked on the door.
"Come in," she heard Parr say.
Taking a shaky breath, she stepped inside.
Parr rose from his seat at the conference table. Also in the room were Colin Wetfig and a woman whom Abby did not recognize, a fortyish brunette in a nicely tailored blue suit. Nothing she saw in those faces gave Abby the slightest clue as to the purpose of this meeting, but every instinct told her this session would not be a pleasant one.
"Dr. DiMatteo," said Parr, "Let me introduce you to Susan Casado, the hospital's corporate attorney."
An attorney? This is not good.
The two women shook hands. Ms Casado's grip felt unnaturally warm against Abby's icy skin.
Abby took a chair next to Wetfig. There was a brief silence, punctuated by the lawyer's rattling of papers and Wettig's gruff throat-clearing.
Then Parr said, "Dr. DiMatteo, perhaps you could tell us what you recall about your role in the care of a Mrs Karen Terrio."
Abby frowned. This was not at all what she'd expected. "I performed the initial evaluation on Mrs Terrio," she said. "Then I referred her to Neurosurgery. They took over her case."
"So how long was she under your care?"
"Officially? About two hours. More or less."
"And during those two hours, what did you do, exactly?"
"I stabilized her. Ordered the necessary labs. It would be in the medical record."
"Yes, we have a copy," said Susan
Now she was working right beside him, her gloved hand brushing against his, their heads bent close. This was the man she loved, the work she loved. Just for this moment, she could forget Victor Voss and the crisis shadowing her career. Perhaps the crisis was over. No axe had yet fallen, no ominous message had been issued from Parr's office. In fact, ColinWettig had taken her aside this morning to tell her, in his usual gruff way, that she'd received outstanding evaluations for trauma rotation.
It will all work out, she thought as she watched the patient wheeled out to Recovery. Somehow, this will all turn out just fine.
"Excellent job, DiMatteo," said Mark, stripping off his OR gown. "I bet you say that to all the residents."
"Here's something I never say to the other residents." He leaned towards her and whispered: "Meet me in the call room."
"Uh... Dr. DiMatteo?"
Abby and Mark, both flushing, turned and looked at the circulating nurse, who'd just poked her head in the door.
"There's a call for you from Mr Parr's secretary. They want to see you in Administration."
"Now?"
"They're waiting for you," said the nurse, and she left.
Abby shot Mark a look of apprehension. "Oh God. Now what?"
"Don't let 'em rattle you. I'm sure it'll be OK. Want me to come with you?"
She thought it over a moment, then shook her head. "I'm a big girl. I should be able to handle this."
"If there's any problem, page me. I'll be right there." He gave her hand a squeeze. "That's a promise."
She managed to return the thinnest of smiles. Then she pushed through the OR door and headed grimly for the elevator.
With the same feeling of dread she'd felt last night, she stepped off onto the second floor and headed up the carpeted hall to Jeremiah Parr's office. Parr's secretary directed her around the corner to the meeting room. Abby knocked on the door.
"Come in," she heard Parr say.
Taking a shaky breath, she stepped inside.
Parr rose from his seat at the conference table. Also in the room were Colin Wetfig and a woman whom Abby did not recognize, a fortyish brunette in a nicely tailored blue suit. Nothing she saw in those faces gave Abby the slightest clue as to the purpose of this meeting, but every instinct told her this session would not be a pleasant one.
"Dr. DiMatteo," said Parr, "Let me introduce you to Susan Casado, the hospital's corporate attorney."
An attorney? This is not good.
The two women shook hands. Ms Casado's grip felt unnaturally warm against Abby's icy skin.
Abby took a chair next to Wetfig. There was a brief silence, punctuated by the lawyer's rattling of papers and Wettig's gruff throat-clearing.
Then Parr said, "Dr. DiMatteo, perhaps you could tell us what you recall about your role in the care of a Mrs Karen Terrio."
Abby frowned. This was not at all what she'd expected. "I performed the initial evaluation on Mrs Terrio," she said. "Then I referred her to Neurosurgery. They took over her case."
"So how long was she under your care?"
"Officially? About two hours. More or less."
"And during those two hours, what did you do, exactly?"
"I stabilized her. Ordered the necessary labs. It would be in the medical record."
"Yes, we have a copy," said Susan
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