Page 11 of Trick of Light

Bethany’s hair stood on end. Panicked, she ran toward the staircase as Phoebe erupted in tears. She was saying something Bethany couldn’t understand, and Bethany was overwhelmed with possibilities. Maybe Phoebe had fallen down the stairs? Perhaps she’d encountered an intruder?

As a mother, you were perpetually plagued with fears. Every day brought so many fresh terrors, thoughts of the horrible things that could happen to your children. Bethany was especially at risk of this, as she saw so many very sick children in her line of work.

But when Bethany reached downstairs, her fear tripled at the scene before her.

Phoebe was on the floor, sobbing, her face red as a beet. Beside her was, impossibly, Nick—his face nearly purple, his eyes bloodshot. In his hand was a bottle of whiskey. Beside him was a big bag of fast-food burgers and french fries. He looked bloated and stricken, glaring at Phoebe as though he’d never seen her before.

“Daddy,” Phoebe blubbered, “what’s wrong?”

Bethany had never seen Nick like this—not this bad, anyway. Nick had been scheduled for surgery that morning. It was clear something had happened.

Bethany couldn’t bring herself to think of the worst. Not yet.

“Hey, baby,” Bethany said gently to Phoebe, dropping down to her knees to take Phoebe’s hand. “Let’s go back upstairs, huh? Daddy isn’t feeling well.”

Phoebe’s chin quivered. Her face was stricken with panic. Because she was still small for her age, Bethany could scoop her up and carry her back up the staircase, using that “motherly strength” she’d always read about. The strength that supposedly helped you lift a car or fight a bear if it meant protecting your child.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy demanded as Bethany carried Phoebe into the playroom and set her down.

“Your father is sick,” Bethany said simply. “Can you take care of your sisters for a little while?”

Maddie glared at Bethany. “I can take care of Phoebe,” she insisted.

Bethany winced, hating that she’d instinctively put her trust in the only son, the only boy. She was just as bad as Amanda.

“Thank you, Maddie,” Bethany said. “I’ll come back soon.”

Bethany shut the door behind her and steeled herself. Her hands in fists, she paraded back downstairs, reminding herself that whatever this was, whatever had happened, she and Nick were a team. They had to be.

Nick had managed to pick himself up off the floor. He was hunched over on the couch, glaring out the window. Sweat swelled into beads on his temples.

Bethany hurried to the kitchen to pour him a glass of water. The hollow look in his eyes terrified her.

It wasn’t that she’d never made a mistake during surgery. But what happened after the mistake was what mattered. Every time she made an error, she’d stayed at the hospital for hours and mended it. She’d ensured the family knew what had happened and their strategy for what came next.

She’d also lost patients during surgery before—not due to her error, but simply due to the nature of their injuries or illnesses. Being a doctor meant steeling yourself against those sorts of problems. It meant trying your best every step of the way.

But over the years, Nick had made several errors. And he wasn’t very good at figuring out what to do next.

Bethany struggled not disliking this about him. They were surgeons for crying out loud. They were doctors. They needed to put their patients first and fight for them.

They couldn’t fall apart the way Nick so often did. They couldn’t reach for a bottle of whiskey and expect everything to turn out okay.

Bethany demanded that Nick drink the entire glass of water. He did, without speaking, his eyes closed tightly. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and carelessly threw the glass on the floor. During these moments, it was hard to remember that Bethany had ever been head over heels for him.

Bethany touched his shoulder gently. “Nick. What happened?”

Nick flinched and raised his chin to glare at her. He looked at her as though she were an alien. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

Bethany stiffened. She wanted to tell him to keep his voice down. They’d promised to stop fighting in front of the children. But this didn’t seem to be the time.

“Little Miss Perfect Doctor,” Nick mocked. “Little Miss Morals.”

Bethany sniffed and removed her hand from his shoulder. “Why don’t you go upstairs and sleep?” she said.

“You think sleep can fix something like this?” Nick asked, slurring his words.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Bethany said. “But I have surgery in a few hours, and I need to go back to the hospital to prep. I can’t leave you here like this. Not with our kids upstairs.”

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