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a flat voice.
    “Yes,” she said.   “Anything you need…”
    But he wasn’t listening for her
response.   He was already getting
out of the car and moving at high speed.   She rushed to keep up with him as he walked towards the main entrance.
    Even his stride was fast, efficient.
    Once they were inside the main lobby of
the hospital, Cullen led the way through a mazelike hall and a set of
elevators.   They took the elevators
up in silence.
    Cullen’s face was a mask of cool, calm
detachment and Ivy sensed that this was a form of protection.
    He’d been avoiding this moment since the
day she’d met him.   He hadn’t wanted
to perform this surgery, hadn’t asked to be put in this position.
    In fact, he had clearly been dreading it
and trying to stave it off at all costs.   Now that it had come to this, he was trying to get on with the task at
hand and the last thing Ivy wanted to do was distract him in any way.
    The elevator doors opened and he gestured
to the right, towards a set of double doors, through which she could make out a
waiting room.   “That’s where you
go,” he said.   “I’ll be out when I’m
done.”
    “Okay,” she said, her throat tight with
nervousness.   She wanted so badly to
tell him he was going to be great, that he could do this.
    Cullen nodded, turned on his heel and
went the opposite way, through a different set of doors, and disappeared.
    Ivy let out a breath, realizing she’d
been holding it ever since they’d gotten in the car to head to the hospital.
    Slowly, she made her way into the waiting
room.
    The second she got inside, her eyes fixed
on the woman sitting with Kleenex in a death grip in one hand.   It was Peg Woodhouse.
    Sitting next to her was an older, gray
haired, heavyset man with a tough, haggard face.
    Ivy didn’t want to have to talk to Peg
Woodhouse at a time like this, but there was no way to avoid it.   The waiting room was nearly empty, and
she couldn’t ignore her.
    When Peg saw her walking towards them,
she grabbed the older man’s forearm.   “Dad,” she said.   “Dad, this
is her.”   She nodded towards Ivy,
who forced a smile to her face.
    “Hi, Peg,” she said, giving a small wave
of her hand.
    “This is my father,” Peg said.   “Dad, this is Ivy…”
    “I’m Cullen Sharpe’s wife,” Ivy said,
trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel.
    “Oh?” the older man said, cocking an
eyebrow and gazing up at her critically.   He extended his hand and gave her a very firm handshake.
    She took a seat across from them, wishing
she’d known they were in here beforehand.   She would have waited downstairs.
    “I tried calling you,” Peg said.   “But you never answered your phone.”
    “My phone broke, unfortunately,” Ivy
said, trying to laugh it off.
    “What bad timing,” Peg said.
    Her father raised his eyebrows.   “Lots of bad timing nowadays.”
    “I’m so sorry your family is going through
this,” Ivy said, “but Cullen—Doctor Sharpe—he’s going to do a great
job.   I have faith it will all work
out, he’s a fantastic surgeon.”
    As the words left Ivy’s mouth, she
wondered what gave her the right to say them.   She truly didn’t know what kind of a
surgeon he’d been.   And even if he’d
once been great, Cullen didn’t believe in himself anymore.  
    He’d also made it clear that he didn’t
think this surgery would be successful.
    But she certainly wasn’t going to say
that to a pair of grieving family members in the hospital waiting room before a
dangerous procedure.
    Peg’s father grunted.   He looked at Ivy with a critical
gaze.   “It’s only too bad that it
took a shotgun to the man’s head before he would do the right thing and perform
the dang surgery.”
    Ivy swallowed drily and shrugged.   “I…I don’t know all the ins and outs of
it.”
    “Dad, please.   She helped us make this happen.   Don’t give her a hard time,” Peg said
softly.   She smiled at Ivy