Page 15 of Crossing the Line
The question hit harder than it should have. Harper forced her smile brighter, overcompensating for the guilt clawing at herchest. "Terrifying and exciting in equal measure. Dr. Mars was impressive during orientation."
"Jo’s remarkable. She's transformed this hospital's surgical program." Natalie gestured for Harper to sit in one of the leather chairs facing her desk. "I'm so proud that you'll be part of it."
Harper settled into the chair, hyperaware of how her mother's office reflected everything she'd worked toward: respect, achievement, the kind of professional reputation that took decades to build. The same reputation Harper could destroy with a single confession about Friday night.
"How are the new community outreach programs developing?" Harper asked, desperate to focus on anything other than her own deception. "You sounded so excited about them when we talked last week."
Natalie's face lit up with the particular joy she reserved for discussing medicine. "Better than I'd hoped. We've expanded the prenatal education workshops, and the partnership with the women's shelter has already helped twelve families access comprehensive care. It's exactly the kind of integrated approach I've been pushing for since I started building the program here."
"That's incredible." Harper leaned forward, genuine admiration mixing with guilt-driven enthusiasm. "The community integration aspect must be so rewarding."
"It is. We've partnered with several local organizations to provide comprehensive care." Natalie pulled out a folder, her movements efficient and confident. "Speaking of partnerships, you'll be working with some exceptional physicians during your rotations. Dr. Riley Parker in trauma surgery is brilliant and has saved more lives than I can count. Dr. Hassan in emergency medicine has incredible instincts."
Each name Harper filed away, while trying to ignore the growing dread in her stomach.
"And of course," Natalie continued, her voice taking on a note of particular warmth, "you'll likely work with Carmen Méndez at some point. She's one of our top cardiac surgeons with absolutely exceptional skill and dedication. I've known her for years."
The words hit Harper like a physical blow. Her pen stilled on her notepad, and she felt the blood drain from her face before she could control her reaction. Carmen. Her mother's colleague. Her mother's friend.
"She sounds impressive," Harper managed, proud that her voice remained steady even as her world tilted off its axis.
"She is. Carmen's had a difficult time lately—professional betrayal by a former partner—but she's the most skilled surgeon I've ever worked with. Brilliant mind, impeccable ethics." Natalie's expression grew protective.
Harper's throat felt like sandpaper. Impeccable ethics. The phrase echoed in her mind alongside Dr. Mars' earlier emphasis on professional integrity. She was sitting in her mother's office, surrounded by evidence of a career built on trust and competence, while harboring secrets that could destroy relationships spanning years.
"I look forward to learning from her," Harper said, the lie sliding out with practiced ease even as it left a bitter taste on her tongue.
"You will. Carmen has a gift for teaching, though she doesn't take on mentoring responsibilities often." Natalie smiled with obvious affection. "But I'm sure she'll make an exception for you."
The casual assumption of special treatment made Harper's guilt exponentially worse. Her mother had no idea she was recommending her daughter to a woman Harper had already lied to, slept with, and abandoned without explanation.
"Mom," Harper heard herself saying, desperate to change the subject before she broke down entirely, "tell me again why you chose obstetrics."
Natalie's expression softened with familiar warmth. "You know this story. Your birth. The way the medical team made me feel supported during the most vulnerable moment of my life—I knew I wanted to give that to other women."
Harper's chest tightened. She did know this story, had heard it countless times growing up, but hearing it now made her feel the weight of it differently. Even her existence was tied to her mother's professional calling, another thread in the web of expectations and achievements that defined their relationship.
"You've built something remarkable here," Harper said, and meant it completely.
"We've built something remarkable," Natalie corrected gently. "Everything I've accomplished has been so you could have the opportunities I never dreamed of."
The familiar words were meant as encouragement, but they felt like stones in Harper's chest. Her mother had sacrificed and worked and built this life, this reputation, this network of professional relationships—all so Harper could have the foundation to succeed.
And Harper had already jeopardized it all for one night of feeling like someone else.
"Come on," Natalie said, standing and gathering a folder from her desk. "Let me show you around the surgical wing. You should see where you'll be spending most of your time."
Harper followed her mother through the hospital corridors, grateful for the movement and the familiar rhythm of Natalie's confident stride. The surgical wing buzzed with controlled activity: nurses in colorful scrubs moving between rooms, residents reviewing charts, the distant sound of monitors creating a backdrop of organized efficiency.
"The cardiac surgery suites are down this hall," Natalie explained, her voice carrying the pride of someone who'd helped build something exceptional. "We have some of the most advanced equipment on the West Coast, and the team here is absolutely world-class."
Harper nodded, taking notes in a pocket notepad more out of nervous habit than necessity. She'd researched every department and protocol, but being here felt different. More real. More dangerous.
"And there's someone I especially want you to meet," Natalie continued, her voice warming with obvious affection. "Carmen should be finishing her morning prep about now."
Carmen. The name hit her like ice water, but she forced herself to keep walking, to keep breathing, to maintain the professional composure that had carried her through the morning.
They approached a surgical suite where Harper could see movement through the observation windows. Her mother's steps quickened with the enthusiasm of someone eager to make introductions, completely oblivious to the panic clawing at Harper's chest.
