Page 102 of The Devil Gets His Due

“You realize that’s in the Bible—”

“Please don’t ruin this for me. Anyway, we’ll name her Delilah but we’ll call her Daisy.”

He winces. “Or we could, you know, just call her by her actual name.”

“I nearly died, Graham.”

“Daisy it is, then,” he replies.

Her tiny moving mouth slows, then stops.

“She’s sound asleep already,” I whisper. “She got that from you.”

He lowers the side of the bed and sits beside me. I place her in his arms and he swallows hard as he takes her in, his eyes bright once more.

“Hello, Daisy,” he whispers. Her tiny hand wraps tight around his pinky and I rest my head against his arm. There’s no one alive I trust more. I’m so glad she’ll have him to lean on.

I’m so glad we both will.

Our daughter remainsin the hospital for four days, and after pulling some strings, we’re allowed to stay with her. Just before she’s released, Graham goes to install the car seat in the back of the Volvo. Daisy’s asleep in the nursery, so I roam the halls, catching up with people.

Dr. Patel isnotsupposed to be one of them.

“Do you have a minute?” he asks.

“Do you have another case ofMycobacterium marinumyou want me to diagnose?” I ask with a small laugh.

He smiles. “Still resentful over that, I see. Come along. I need coffee.”

I guess I can hear him out. I’ve been realizing this week how much I missed a lot of things about working in the hospital.

“I saw your segment onMindy and Mills,” he says as he pours coffee into his cup.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me I was amazing.”

He raises a brow. “Youdidactually attend medical school. It would be sad if youcouldn’tdo those things.”

Which is exactly what I said, but he could have humored me.

“You did, however, remain commendably composed,” he continues. “I assume you asked the surfer if he had a tetanus shot?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course I did.”

“And the newborn—you felt for the cord as you pulled him out? And you cleared his nose right away?”

He’s really pissing me off now. “Yes.”

“Do you know why I’m asking you these questions, Keeley?”

“I assume it’s because you think I’m incompetent.”

“No.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “It’s because every doctor misses things at some point, and it’s learning from those misses that turns you into a better doctor. You didn’t ask a patient with fish handlers’ disease what he did for a living, but I bet you never do it again.”

I frown. Isupposehe’s right. “It still felt like you singled me out. You gave me a patient with a rare disorder and then described in detail how I messed up.”

“I absolutely did single you out,” he agrees, setting his coffee down. “Has it ever occurred to you, though, that I perhaps did that because I knewyoucould figure it out, and suspected the others wouldn’t?”

I grin. “So you’re saying I’m actually the greatest resident you ever had?”

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