In a lot of ways it did not seem like a hospital at all. It had more the feeling of a second-class hotel. As he passed the main lounge, he could hear someone plunking atonally on the piano, as well as some mindless television game show. There were none of the sounds that he traditionally associated with the hospital, like the hiss of a cycling respirator or the characteristic clink of IV bottles. Perhaps the thing that made him the most uncomfortable was that everyone was dressed in street clothes. Dr. Ballantine could not be sure who was a patient and who was on staff. He wanted to find Cassi but was afraid of approaching the wrong person.

The only place he could be sure of knowing who was who was the nurses’ station. Dr. Ballantine walked to the counter.

“Can I help you?” asked a tall, elegant black woman whose name tag said simply, Roxane.

“I’m looking for Dr. Cassidy,” said Dr. Ballantine self-consciously.

Before Roxane could respond, Cassi’s head appeared around the door to the chart room.

“Dr. Ballantine. What a surprise!” Cassi stood up.

Ballantine joined her, again admiring her fragile beauty. Thomas must be crazy to spend so many nights in the hospital, he mused.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” asked Ballantine.

“Of course. Would you like to go to my office?”

“Here’s fine,” said Ballantine, indicating the empty room.

Cassi pushed some of the charts away. “I’ve been writing summary notes on my patients for the other doctors to use while I’m in for my eye surgery.”

Ballantine nodded. “The reason I stopped down was to tell you in person that I’ve already spoken with Thomas. We had a very good talk. I feel he’s been pushing it a bit, and he admitted a small reliance on Dexedrine to keep him awake, but he pretty well convinced me that he only took the pain-killers for his migraine headaches.”

Cassi didn’t reply. She was certain Thomas hadn’t had a migraine since he was in his teens.

“Well,” said Ballantine with forced joviality. “You get your eye taken care of and don’t worry anymore about your husband. He’s even offered to have his prescription roster audited.” He stood up and patted Cassi on the shoulder.

Cassi wanted desperately to share Dr. Ballantine’s optimism. But he had not seen Thomas’s pupils or his staggering gait. And the chief was not the recipient of his unpredictable moods.

“I hope you’re right,” said Cassi with a sigh.

“Of course I’m right,” said Dr. Ballantine, annoyed that his pep talk hadn’t worked. He started to leave.

“And you didn’t mention our conversation,” Cassi added, seeing Ballantine was becoming impatient.

“Of course not. Anyway, Thomas’s jealousy makes it obvious he adores you. And with good reason.” Ballantine smiled.

“Thanks for coming down,” said Cassi.

“Don’t mention it,” said Ballantine, waving. He headed down toward the fire door, glad to be leaving Clarkson Two. He had never understood why anybody would take up psychiatry.

Getting on the elevator, Ballantine shook his head. He hated getting mixed up with family problems. Here he had been trying to help both Kingsleys. He’d sought out Cassi in order to put her mind at ease. But she hadn’t seemed willing to listen. For the first time he began to question Cassi’s objectivity.

Getting off the elevator, Ballantine decided to see if George was out of the OR.

He found Sherman surrounded by house staff in the recovery room. When George caught the chief’s eye, he excused himself and followed Ballantine out into the hall.

“I had a disturbing conversation with Kingsley’s wife this morning,” Ballantine said, getting straight to the point. “I thought she had wanted to see me to apologize about the incident last night. But that wasn’t it. She was worried that Thomas might be abusing drugs.”

George opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. The residents had just been describing Kingsley’s behavior in the OR that morning before George himself had taken over. If he told the chief that would mean real trouble for Kingsley. And it was always possible that Thomas had just drunk too much the night before, upset as he obviously was after the fight. George decided to keep his thoughts to himself for the time being.

“Did you believe Cassi?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I spoke with Thomas, who had some very good answers, but even I have found his temper unusually erratic.” Ballantine sighed. “You always said you didn’t care about being chief of service, but even if Kingsley agrees to come full-time, he may not be right for the department when we are done reorganizing. He certainly opposes the new patients we’re scheduling on the teaching service.”

“Yes,” said George. “And I can’t see Thomas accepting the idea of free surgery for the mentally retarded in order to train new teams of vascular surgeons.”

“His point of view isn’t necessarily wrong. These new expensive procedures should be made available first to the patients with the best chances for long-term survival. But practically speaking, the residents rarely get such cases. And as far as the hospital favoring patients most valuable to society, who’s to judge? As you said, George, we’re just physicians, not God.”

“Maybe he’ll calm down,” said George. “If our plans go through, we certainly will be needing him on the teaching staff.”

“Let’s hope,” said Ballantine. “I’ve suggested he take a vacation with his wife. By the way, I assume his accusations were pure paranoia as far as you’re concerned.”

“Unfortunately yes. But I’ll tell you, if she ever gave me a chance, I’d still fight for her. Aside from those amazing looks, she’s one of the most caring women I’ve ever met.”

“Just don’t upset our genius any more than you have to,” said Ballantine with a laugh. “In the meantime, do you think I should review Thomas’s prescriptions?”

“How can it hurt? But there are other ways doctors can get hold of drugs,” said George, thinking of Thomas’s collapse in the OR.

“Let’s just hope he takes his vacation soon and comes back his old self.”

“Right,” said George, though he personally had not been that fond of Thomas in happier days.

Nine

Cassi was in a state of shock. She couldn’t believe the change that had come over Thomas. At around five o’clock he’d called her saying his surgery for that evening had been canceled and that he was free. He then offered to drive her home in the Porsche, saying she should leave her car at the hospital.

For the first time in months, dinner was a pleasant affair. Thomas had suddenly become his old charming self, the man Cassi had married. He tolerated Patricia’s usual complaints with easy humor and was openly loving and affectionate toward Cassi.

Cassi was infinitely pleased although a little confused. It was hard to believe that Thomas had forgotten the wrenching events of the previous evening, but she watched in amazement as he hurried his mother back to her apartment and solicitously poured Cassi a Kahlua. He fixed himself a cognac. They settled on the oval couch in front of the fire.

“I got a call from Dr. Obermeyer,” he said, sipping his drink. “But by the time I called him back he’d left for the day. What’s happening about your eye?”

“I saw him today. He said that since my vision hasn’t cleared I must have the surgery.”

“When?” Thomas’s voice was mellow. He was swirling his cognac.

“As soon as possible,” said Cassi hesitantly.

Thomas absorbed the news with apparent equanimity, and Cassi continued. “I guess Dr. Obermeyer was trying to reach you because he scheduled me for the day after tomorrow. Unless, of course, you object.”

“Object?” asked Thomas. “Why would I object? Your eyesight is far too important to take chances with.”

Cassi let out a sigh of relief. She had been so concerned about Thomas’s response she hadn’t realized she was holding her breath.