Harvest

in the background. 'Isn't Aaron coming?' asked Archer.

'He knows about it. He'll be on his way up,' said Mark.

'Good.' Archer smiled at Abby. 'What do you think of my little collection?'

She studied the contents of a display case. 'This is fascinating. I can't even tell you what some of these things are.'

Archer pointed to an odd contraption of gears and pulleys. 'That device over there is interesting. It was meant to generate a weak electrical current, which was applied to various parts of the body. Said to be helpful for anything from female troubles to diabetes. Funny, isn't it?The nonsense medical science would have us believe.'

Abby stopped before the oil painting and gazed at the black-robed image of Death. Doctor as hero, Doctor as conqueror, she thought. And of course the object of rescue is a woman. A beautiful woman.

The door opened.

'Here he is,' said Mark. 'We wondered if you'd forgotten about it, Aaron.'

Aaron came into the room. He said nothing, only nodded as he sat down in a chair.

'Can I refill your drink, Abby?' said Archer, gesturing to her glass. 'I'm fine.'

'Just a splash of brandy? Mark's driving, right?'

Abby smiled. 'All right. Thanks.'

Archer touched up Abby's drink and handed it back to her. The room had fallen strangely quiet, as though everyone was waiting for this formality to be completed. It struck her then: she was the only resident in the room. Bill Archer threw this sort of party every few months, to welcome another batch of house staff to the thoracic and trauma rotations. At this moment, there were six other surgical residents circulating downstairs in the garden. But here, in Archer's private retreat, there was only the transplant team.

And Abby.

She sat down on the couch next to Mark and sipped her drink. Already she was feeling the brandy's heat, and the warmth of this special attention. As an intern, she'd viewed these five men with awe, had felt privileged just to assist in the same OR with Archer and Mohandas. Though her relationship with Mark had brought her into their social circle, she never forgot who these men were. Nor did she forget the power they held over her career.

Archer sat down across from her. 'I've been hearing some good things about you, Abby. From the General. Before he left tonight, he paid you some wonderful compliments.'

'Dr. Wettig did?' Abby couldn't help a surprised laugh. 'To be honest, I'm never quite sure what he thinks about my performance.'

'Well, that's just the General's way. Spreading a little insecurity around in the world.'

The other men laughed. Abby did too.

'I do respect Colin's judgment,' said Archer. 'And I know he thinks you're one of the best Level-Two residents in the programme. I've worked with you, so I know he's right.'

Abby shifted uneasily on the couch. Mark reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. That gesture was not missed by Archer, who smiled.

'Obviously, Mark thinks you're pretty special. And that's part of the reason we thought we should have this discussion. I know it may seem a little premature. But we're long-range planners, Abby.

We think it never hurts to scout out the territory in advance.'

'I'm afraid I don't quite follow you,' said Abby.

Archer reached for the brandy decanter and poured himself a scant refill. 'Our transplant team's interested in only the best. The best credentials, the best performance. We're always looking over the residents for fellowship material. Oh, we have a selfish motive, of course. We're grooming people for the team.' He paused. 'And we were wondering if you might have an interest in transplant surgery.'

Abby flashed Mark a startled look. He nodded.

'It's not something you have to decide anytime soon,' said Archer. 'But we want you to think about it. We have the next few years to get to know each other. By then, you may not even want a fellowship. It may turn out transplant surgery's not something you're even vaguely interested in.'

'But it is.' She leaned forward, her face flushing with enthusiasm. 'I guess I'm just… surprised by this. And flattered. There are so many good residents in the programme. Vivian Chao, for instance.'

'Yes, Vivian is good.'

'I think she'll be looking for a fellowship next year.'

Mohandas said, 'There's no question that Dr. Chao's surgical technique is outstanding. I can think of several residents with excellent technique. But you have heard the saying? One can teach a monkey how to operate.The trick is teaching him when to operate.'

'I think what Raj is trying to say is, we're looking for good clinical judgment,' said Archer. 'And a sense of teamwork. We see you as someone who works well with a team. Not at cross-purposes. That's something we insist on, Abby, teamwork. When you're sweating it out in the OR, all sorts of things can go wrong. Equipment fails. Scalpels slip. The heart gets lost in transit. We have to be able to pull together, come hell or high water. And we do.'

'We help each other out, too,' said Frank Zwick. 'Both in the OR and outside of it.'

'Absolutely,' said Archer. He glanced at Aaron. 'Wouldn't you agree?'

Aaron cleared his throat. 'Yes, we help each other out. It's one of the benefits of joining this team.'

'One of the many benefits,' added Mohandas.

For a moment no one spoke. The Brandenburg Concerto played softly in the background. Archer said, 'I like this part,' and turned up the volume. As the sound of violins spilled from the speakers, Abby found herself gazing, once again, at Death versus the Physician. The battle for a patient's life, a patient's soul.

'You mentioned there were… other benefits,' said Abby.

'For example,' offered Mohandas, 'when I completed my surgery residency, I had a number of student loans to pay off. So that was part of my recruitment package. Bayside helped me pay off my loans.'

'Now that's something we can talk about, Abby,' said Archer. 'Ways we can make this attractive to you.Young surgeons nowadays, they come out of residency at thirty years old. Most of them are already married with maybe a kid or two. And they owe — what? A hundred thousand dollars in loans. They don't even own a house yet! It'll take 'em ten years just to get out of debt. By then they're forty, and worried about college for their kids!' He shook his head. 'I don't know why anyone goes into medicine these days. Certainly not to make money.'

'If anything,' agreed Abby, 'it's a hardship.'

'It doesn't have to be. That's where Bayside can help. Mark mentioned to us that you were on financial aid all the way through medical school.'

'A combination of scholarships and loans. Mostly loans.'

'Ouch. That sounds painful.'

Abby nodded ruefully. 'I'm just beginning to feel the pain.'

'College loans as well?'

'Yes. My family had… financial problems,' Abby admitted. 'You make it sound like something to be ashamed of.'

'It was more a case of… bad luck. My younger brother was hospitalized for a number of months and we weren't insured. But then, in the town where I grew up, a lot of people weren't insured.'

'Which only confirms how hard you must have worked to beat the odds. Everyone here knows what that's like. Raj here was an immigrant, didn't speak English until he was ten. Me, I'm the first in my family to go to college. Believe me, there are no goddamn Boston Brahmins in this room. No rich daddies or handy little trust funds. We know about beating the odds because we've all done it. That's the kind of drive we're looking for in this team.'

The music swelled to its finale. The last chord of trumpets and strings faded away. Archer shut off the stereo and looked at Abby.

'Anyway. It's something for you to think about,' he said. 'We're not making any firm offers, of course. It's more like talking about a, uh…' Archer grinned at Mark. 'First date.'

'I understand,' said Abby.