He took her hand in his. “I know.”
On the other side of the bed, her parents moved next to her.
“Hey, baby,” her mother murmured. “You have to hang on. You know that, right?”
Kalinda continued to stare at him. “I hurt.”
“Can’t you give her something?” Fay demanded.
He glanced at the IV, taking in the already high dose. “She’s getting as much as she can take.”
“You have to do something.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Kalinda whispered. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
Pain ripped through him as he watched the brave little girl trying to comfort her parents.
“We still have work to do,” Simon told her, doing his best to sound upbeat and positive.
“The surgeries don’t matter. It’s not like I can be pretty again.”
“Yes, you can. I can make you pretty.” Or at least normal, he thought grimly. Eventually that would be enough.
“No, you can’t.” Her blue eyes saw into his soul. “You’re leaving.”
He felt as if she’d shot him.
She was right, of course. How could she trust him? He’d never said he would stay. Someone else would finish what he’d started. Someone else would see her through.
He didn’t know what to say to her. There had been other children who had begged him not to go, but he’d never listened. He’d always known he was needed somewhere else. He’d left his patients, just as his doctors had left him.
The difference was his doctors had left because they had lives of their own to live. Families, commitments. He left because…
In that moment he couldn’t remember why, only that it was important.
“I’ll get better if you stay,” Kalinda whispered and held out her hand. “Pinkie promise.”
Just like Reese had pinkie promised to marry her if no one else would. For this little girl, a pinkie promise meant something.
He didn’t want to lie to her but he also wanted to save her. Staying? Impossible. Still, he moved his hand toward hers, pinkie extended.
Before they touched, the monitors began to scream. Red lights flashed and the sound of buzzing and sirens filled the small room. Kalinda’s hand dropped to the bed, her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness.
Simon took in all the data, then tossed the chart on the chair.
“Get back,” he demanded. There was no need to call for help. As soon as the alarms started, the team would be on their way.
He bent over Kalinda and tilted her head back. Even as the heart monitor flatlined, he began CPR, breathing deeply and rhythmically into her mouth.
His mind went blank as he focused on what he was doing, on the mechanics that could save her. Less than a minute after the first alarm, a swarm of people burst into the room, as the crash team responded to the alert.
He was pushed aside. He stepped back and made his way around them, then drew her parents out of the crowded room.
Fay shook with sobs. “No!” she screamed. “No! Don’t let her die. My baby. Kalinda!” She shook off his hands and threw herself at her husband. “Not now. Not like this.”
Simon stood next to them, not watching the medical team at work. He knew what they were doing from the sounds. He heard the call for medicine, the hum of the defib machine. He knew they were already too late.
He thought about telling her parents he was sorry. That sometimes this happened. But he wasn’t sorry, he was angry. Worse, he felt as if he were somehow responsible. As if he should have been able to save her.
He turned away and walked toward his office. He felt sick inside, helpless. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to save these kids.
He turned the corner and came to a stop when he saw Montana standing in front of his closed and locked office door.
She still wore the black dress she’d had on at the cocktail party, but in her arms she held Cece. The tiny poodle quivered at the sight of Simon and strained to leap into his arms.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Montana told him. “I called Max and he brought Cece to me. I thought she might help.”
“Kalinda’s gone,” he said flatly, knowing in the next minute or so he would get a call telling him what had happened.
Montana’s eyes filled with tears. “No. She was doing better. I saw her yesterday. She was laughing.”
He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to be with anyone. Especially not with someone who claimed to love him. He didn’t want her to carry ugly images in her head.
“I have to go.”
He knew he should say something else, but there weren’t any words. Just the pressing need to be anywhere but here.
He turned and walked toward the stairs. He opened the door and raced down. When he found himself outside, he drew in deep breaths, but they didn’t help. Nothing helped.
Without thinking he pulled out his cell phone and pushed the speed dial. Seconds later a familiar voice said, “You’re up late.”
“Alistair.”
His friend’s voice changed from joking to serious. “What’s wrong?”
“I lost a patient. A child.”
Alistair swore. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. Simon, you’re the best.”
Maybe, but tonight, it wasn’t enough. “Do you ever want…”
“To walk away?” His friend paused. “Sometimes it gets to me. The pain, the suffering. But someone has to help and, frankly, who better?”
“Do you ever want something more? A life?”
“I had one.”
Simon winced. Alistair’s beautiful wife and baby girl had been killed in a car accident three years ago. A month later, Alistair had joined Simon in Africa. As far as Simon knew, the other man had never been back to London.
“Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Not long enough.” Simon knew he would remember gentle Kalinda forever. What would it be like to lose his own child? Or to have one in the first place?
“You go on,” Alistair told him. “Keep putting one foot in front of the other. You asked me once if it was worth it. Loving them and losing them. Was it worth it to help your patient?”
“Of course.”
“Then that’s your answer.”
MONTANA BRUSHED AWAY the tears. In her arms, Cece looked at her, as if aware something was wrong.
“She’s gone,” she repeated, knowing the words wouldn’t make any sense to the little dog. Not that they made any sense to her, either. Kalinda’s death seemed unnecessary and arbitrary. What had gone wrong?
She stared at the door to the stairs, wondering if she should follow Simon. After a couple of seconds, she turned the other way. Telling him she loved him wouldn’t have helped him feel any better. If she went after him, he might think she was pressuring him or trying to prove herself. He’d found her before—if he needed her, he would find her again.
For a second she wondered if she’d been wrong to tell him the truth. If knowing she loved him would make things more difficult. Then she shook her head. No. She wouldn’t go there. Loving someone was a gift. It’s not like
