Without any particular destination, the couple found themselves near the entrance to the Boston T. They sat on a granite parapet, angled to face each other.

"There's no way I can tell you to buck up," Alexis said. "You're only going to buck up if you want to buck up."

"As if I didn't know that already."

"But I can listen. Maybe you should just tell me how you feel."

"Oh, whooptie do! Always the therapist ready to help the men-tally ill. Tell me how you feel!" Craig echoed mockingly. "How gallant!"

"Let's not be hostile, Craig, I believe in you. I'm on your side in this legal affair."

Craig stared off for a moment, watching two kids winging a Frisbee back and forth. He sighed, then looked back at Alexis. "I'm sorry. I know you are on my side, letting me come back like a dog with his tail between his legs and pretty much no questions asked. I appreciate it. Really, I do."

"You're the best doctor I know, and I know a lot of doctors. I also have some insight into what you are going through, which ironically has something to do with your being such a superb physician. It makes you more vulnerable. But that aside, you and I have some issues. That's obvious, and there will be questions. But not now. There will be time for dealing with our relationship, but we have to get you through this ugly affair first."

"Thank you," Craig said simply and sincerely. Then his lower jaw began to tremble. Fighting off tears, he rubbed his eyes with the balls of his fingers. It took a few moments, but when he felt he had himself under control, he looked back at Alexis. His eyes were watery and red. He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "The problem is this ugly affair keeps getting worse. I'm afraid I'm going to lose the case. Hell, when I think back on my social behavior back then when this happened, I'm embarrassed. And knowing that it's all going to come out publicly is a disgrace for both of us and a dishonor for you."

"Is the airing of your social behavior a big point of what's depressing you?"

"It's a part, but not the biggest part. The biggest humiliation is going to be the jury telling the world I practice substandard medicine. If that happens, I'm not sure I'll be able to practice anymore. I'm having a hard time as it is. I'm seeing everybody as another litigant, and every patient encounter a possible malpractice case. It's a nightmare."

"I think it's understandable."

"If I can't practice medicine, what else can I do? I don't know anything else. All I ever wanted to be is a doctor."

"You could do your research full-time. You've always had a conflict between research and clinical medicine."

"I suppose that's an idea. But I'm afraid I might lose my passion for medicine in general."

"So it's pretty clear you have to do everything in your power to win. Randolph says you have to pull yourself together."

"Oh, Randolph, good grief!" Craig complained. He looked off in the middle distance. "I don't know about him. Having seen Mr. Fasano's performance this morning, I don't think Randolph is the right lawyer. He's going to connect with that jury like oil and water, whereas Fasano already has them eating out of his hands."

"If you feel that way, can you request another attorney from the insurance company?"

"I don't know. I guess."

"But the question would be, Is it wise at this late juncture?"

"Who knows?" Craig questioned wistfully. "Who knows."

"Well, let's deal with what we have. Let's hear Randolph 's opening statement. In the meantime, we have to think of a way to spruce you up appearance-wise."

"That's easier said than done. Do you have any ideas?"

"Just telling you to buck up is not going to work, but what about concentrating on your innocence? Think about that for the moment. You were presented with the seriousness of Patience Stanhope's condition; you did everything humanly possible. You even rode in the ambulance so you could be there if she arrested. My God, Craig! Concentrate on that and your dedication to medicine in general and project it. Fill the whole damn courtroom! How could you be more responsible? What do you say?"

Craig chuckled dubiously in the face of Alexis's sudden enthusiasm. "Let me make sure I understand. You're talking about me focusing on my innocence and broadcasting it to the jury?"

"You heard Randolph. He's had a lot of experience with juries, and he's convinced they have special senses about people's mind-set. I say you try to connect with them. God knows it can't hurt."

Craig exhaled forcibly. He was hardly confident but didn't have the energy to fight Alexis's zeal. "Okay," he said, "I'll try it."

"Good. And another thing. Try to tap into your physician's ability to compartmentalize. I've seen you do it time and time again in your practice. While you're thinking about how grand a doctor you are and how you gave your professional best with Patience Stanhope, don't think of anything else. Be focused."

Craig merely nodded and broke off eye contact with Alexis.

"You're not convinced, are you?"

Craig shook his head. He gazed up at the boxy, postmodern Boston City Hall building that dominated the esplanade like a crusader castle. Its brooding, distressed bulkiness seemed to him like a metaphor for the bureaucratic morass that ensnared him. It took effort to pull his eyes away and look back at his wife. "The worst thing about this mess is that I feel so helpless. I'm totally dependent on my assigned insurance company attorney. Every other hurdle in my life called for more effort on my part, and it was always the additional effort that saved the day. Now it seems like the more effort I make, the deeper I sink."

"Concentrating on your innocence like I'm suggesting takes effort. Compartmentalizing takes effort also." Alexis thought it ironic that what Craig was voicing was exactly how people in general felt about illness and their dependency on doctors.

Craig nodded. "I don't mind making an effort. I said I'll try to connect with the jury. I just wish there was something else. Something more tangible."

"Well, there is one other thing that passed through my mind."

"Oh? What?"

"I've thought about calling my brother, Jack, and seeing if he would come up from New York and help."

"Oh, that would be helpful," Craig said sarcastically. "He won't come. You guys haven't been close over the years, and, besides, he never liked me."

"Jack has had understandable difficulty with us being blessed with three wonderful daughters when he tragically lost both of his. It's painful for him."

"Maybe, but it doesn't explain his dislike of me."

"Why do you say that? Did he ever say he didn't like you?"

Craig looked at Alexis for a beat. He'd cornered himself and couldn't think of a way out. Jack Stapleton had never said anything specific; it was just a feeling Craig had had.

"I'm sorry you think Jack doesn't like you. The reality is, he admires you, and he told me so specifically."

"Really?" Craig was taken aback, convinced that Jack's assessment was the opposite.

"Yes, Jack did say you were the kind of student in medical school and residency that he avoided. You are one of those people who read all the suggested reading, somehow knew all the trivial facts, and could quote at length from the latest issue of The New England Journal of Medicine. He admitted that awe did breed a certain contempt, but it was actually inwardly directed, meaning he wished he could have dedicated himself as much as you did."

"That's very flattering. It really is. I had no idea! But I wonder if he feels the same after my midlife crisis. And even if he were to come, what possible help could he provide? In fact, crying on his shoulder might make me feel worse than I do now, if that's possible."

"In Jack's second career as a medical examiner, he's had a lot of courtroom experience. He travels all over as an expert witness for the New York ME 's office. He's told me he enjoys it. He strikes me as very inventive, although on the negative side, an inveterate risk-taker. As despondent as you are about how things are going, maybe his impromptu inventiveness could be helpful."