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watched in surprise as Jane giggled and blushed.
    “It is important to be prepared,” she said.
    “Sorry, about my Dad,” said Mark, switching his gaze to Nikki. 
    “It would mean more if he apologized,” said Nikki.
    Mark shook his head. “I don’t see that happening. But I promise, he’ll keep it civil from now on.”
    Jenny showed up half an hour later, with the latest update on the Istanbul situation, and then Jane again — ostensibly to get everyone’s lunch order. Jenny and Nikki watched as Jane went first to Mark and stayed to chat with every appearance of flirting.
    “I guess I should have taken the lip reading course with Jane,” said Jenny, watching the pair.
    Nikki was about to reply when a scrub-covered surgeon came out of the surgery unit.
    “Merrivel family?” he asked, looking around. “Ah, Nikki,” he said finally spotting her.
    “Is there a problem?” Nikki felt her chest constrict and her heart speed up. There was no way they should have been out this early, even for an update.
    The surgeon nodded. “I’m afraid there is. As you know, we were expecting some trouble from the scar tissue when we went in.”
    “Scar tissue?” repeated Brett.
    “However, what we didn’t know… His medical records didn’t indicate it…”
    “Indicate what?” demanded Nikki, cutting him off.
    “When we cut into the scar tissue around the heart we discovered that it was surrounding a large chunk of shrapnel that’s been impinging on his heart tissue.
    “Shrapnel?” Brett and Nikki repeated the word simultaneously.
    “It’s small, and the piece is ceramic, not metal, which is why it didn’t show up on any of the scans. It read as part of the bone mass. I really wish he’d said something.”
    “Where did he get shrapnel in his chest?” asked Brett. “My father is a lawyer. He works in an office.”
    “I don’t know,” said the surgeon. “But we’ve had to call a halt to the surgery, while we assess the best way to remove it. We need to make sure that we’re proceeding in the safest possible manner.”
    “Of course,” said Nikki.
    “You’ll be able to see him in another hour or so; we’ll try and keep you updated as things progress.”
    “Thanks doctor,” said Nikki.
    The surgeon was already backing away toward the surgical unit.
    “Shrapnel?” asked Brett again, of no one in particular.
    Nikki sat down in the nearest available chair.
    Shrapnel?
     
     

Oysterville
    Brett slammed the papers down on the waiting room coffee table. He had demanded his father’s medical records from the hospital staff and they had been delivered — not that they did him much good.
    “How do they call this a record?” He stomped away from the table. “The information is full of holes, and half the time, it’s unreadable.” He stared out the window, his hands gripped tightly behind him. Mark was sitting with his head in his hands.
    Jane slid onto the couch and began to sort through the papers, making stacks.
    Jenny came back into the room and joined Nikki. “I just chatted up the charge nurse. She said the surgical staff was estimating that the scarring, and probably the shrapnel, dates from the seventies. She says the team assumed the old scarring was a Vietnam injury from some things he said and since a lot of vets medical records get misplaced.”
    “Did she say anything else?” asked Nikki.
    “Yeah, apparently Nephrology has to do with kidneys.”
    “Nephrology?” repeated Nikki. It sometimes struck Nikki that her team dealt with stress by focusing on trivialities.
    “I keep seeing it on the signs,” said Jenny. “I kept thinking it sounded sort of dirty. I wanted to know.”
    “It is sort of dirty,” said Jane, still sorting through papers. “Kidneys filter impurities in your body,” she added, to their blank stares. “Cleans out the dirty stuff, you know?”
    “Apparently, I should have just asked you, Jane. Although, we’re going to have to talk about how to appropriately