"I'll bet she is," Kim said with a dismissive chuckle. "But let's wait for the potassium level first. Also check and make sure there isn't any marked abdominal distension."

Kim disconnected his call. Mrs. Arnold was turning into a bigger pain in the neck than he'd imagined.

"Look at my hamburger," Becky said.

Kim glanced at Becky's burger and saw the ribbon of pink in the middle of the meat patty, but he was preoccupied and none too happy about the call he'd just gotten from the hospital. "Hmmm," he said. "That's the way I used to eat my hamburgers when I was your age."

"Really?" Becky questioned. "That's gross!"

Deciding it was best he speak directly to the intensivist himself, Kim dialed the hospital page number. "That was the only way I ate my hamburgers," he said to Becky as the call went through. "Medium rare, with a slice of raw onion, not with those reconstituted grilled onions, and certainly not with all that slop."

The hospital page operator answered, and Kim asked for Dr. Alice Silber. He said he'd hang on.

Becky looked at her burger, shrugged her shoulders, and then took another, more tentative bite. She had to admit, it tasted fine.

FOUR

Saturday, January 17th

Kim's car rounded the bend in his Street and approached his house. It was a large Tudor-style home sited on a generous wooded lot in a comfortable suburban township. At one time it had been an admirable house. Now it looked neglected. The previous fall none of the leaves had been raked up, and they now covered the lawn area with a layer of wet, dirty brown debris. Most of the house's trim was badly peeling and sorely in need of paint, and some of the window shutters were awry. On the roof a few of the slate shingles had slipped out and were angled into the gutters.

It was nine o'clock on an overcast, wintery Saturday morning; the neighborhood seemed deserted. There was no sign of life as Kim turned into his drive and pulled up to the garage door. Even the next-door neighbor's morning paper had yet to be retrieved from the front walk.

The interior of Kim's house reflected the exterior. It had been mostly stripped of rugs, accessories, and furniture since Tracy had taken what she wanted when she moved out. In addition, the house hadn't been cleaned in months. The living room in particular had a dance-hall feel, with only one chair, a tiny scatter rug, a side table with a telephone on it, and a single floor lamp.

Kim tossed his keys onto a built-in console table in the foyer before passing through the dining room into the kitchen/family room combination. He called out Becky's name, but she didn't answer. Kim glanced into the sink. There were no soiled dishes.

Having awakened a little after five that morning, which was his custom, Kim had gotten up and gone to the hospital to make his rounds. By the time he got home he'd expected Becky to be up and ready to go.

"Becky, you lazy bum, where are you?" Kim called out while mounting the stairs. As he crested the top he heard Becky's bedroom door open. A moment later Becky was standing in the doorway, still dressed in her flannel nightgown. Her hair was a dark mop of tangled curls, and her eyes were heavy-lidded.

"What's going on?" Kim asked. "I thought you'd be raring to get to your skating lesson. Let's move it."

"I don't feel so good." Becky said. She rubbed her eye with her knuckle.

"Oh?" Kim remarked. "How come? What's wrong?"

"I have a stomachache."

"Well, it's nothing, I'm sure," Kim said. "Does the pain come and go or is it steady?"

"It comes and goes," Becky said.

"Where exactly do you feel it?" Kim asked.

Becky made some vague movements with her hand around her abdomen.

"Any chills?" Kim asked. He reached out and put his hand on Becky's forehead.

Becky shook her head.

"Ah, nothing but a few cramps," Kim said. "It's probably your poor stomach complaining about last night's junk food. You shower up and get dressed while I see to some breakfast for you. But snap it up; I don't want your mother complaining to me about you being late for your skating."

"I'm not hungry," Becky said.

"I'm sure you will be after your shower," Kim said. "I'll see you downstairs."

Back in the kitchen Kim got out cereal, milk, and juice. Returning to the base of the stairs, he was about to call out to Becky when he could hear the unmistakable sound of the shower. Returning to the kitchen, he used the wall phone to call Ginger.

"Everybody's okay at the hospital," Kim said as soon as Ginger answered. "All three post-ops are sailing along fine, although the Arnolds, particularly Gertrude Arnold, are driving me bananas."

"I'm glad," Ginger said tartly.

"What's wrong now?" Kim asked. He'd had another minor run-in with one of the nurses on rounds that morning and was looking forward to a stress-free day.

"I wanted to stay over last night," Ginger said. "I don't think it is fair…".

"Stop right there!" Kim snapped. "Let's not get into this again, would you please. I'm tired of this nonsense. Besides, Becky is a little under the weather this morning."

"What's the matter with her?" Ginger asked. Her concern was genuine.

"Nothing much, just a stomachache," Kim said. He was about to elaborate when he heard Becky coming down the stairs. "Uh-oh," he intoned. "Here she comes. Listen, meet us at the rink at the mall. Bye!"

As Becky came into the room, Kim hung up the phone. She was dressed in Kim's bathrobe, which was so big it dragged on the floor and the arms came down to mid-calf.

"There's cereal, milk, and juice on the table." Kim said. "Feel any better?"

Becky shook her head.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Nothing," Becky said.

"Well, you have to have something." Kim said. "How about a shot of Pepto-Bismol?"

Becky screwed up her face into an expression of pure disgust. "I'll have a little juice," she suggested.

The stores in the mall were just beginning to lift their shutters to start the day as Kim and Becky made their way along the corridor toward the skating rink. Kim hadn't asked again, but he was certain Becky was feeling better. She'd ended up eating some cereal after all, and in the car she'd been her usual, talkative self.

"Are you going to stay while I have my lesson?" Becky asked.

"That's the plan," Kim said. "I'm looking forward to seeing that triple axel you've been telling me about."

As they approached the rink, Kim handed Becky her skates that he'd been carrying. A whistle sounded, indicating the end of the preceding intermediate class.

"Perfect timing," Kim said.

Becky sat down and started to unlace her sneakers.

Kim glanced around at the other parents. mostly mothers.

Suddenly he found himself locking eyes with Kelly Anderson. Despite the early-morning hour she was dressed as if she were about to go to a fashion show, and her hair looked as if she'd just emerged from a beauty salon. She smiled. Kim looked away.

A young girl about Becky's age skated over and exited the rink. She sat down next to Becky and said "hi." Becky returned the greeting.

"Ah, my favorite cardiac surgeon!"

Kim turned, and to his distaste he found himself face-to-face with Kelly.

"Have you met my daughter?" Kelly asked.

Kim shook his head.

"Caroline, say hello to Dr. Reggis," Kelly said.

Despite his reluctance to get into a conversation with Kelly, Kim greeted the young girl and introduced Becky to Kelly.

"What a delightful coincidence running into you again," Kelly said to Kim as she straightened up from shaking hands with Becky. "Did you see my segment last night on the eleven o'clock news about the hospital merger anniversary?"