That afternoon, we scrub into surgery together for the first time—on a routine endovascular coiling. It’s a pleasure watching him cut: one I never dreamed I’d get to see.
After, as we scrub out, he murmurs, “Nice job, Rutherford.” We step into the hall together, and before we part ways, chasing pages, he smirks. “You know what they say about a woman who’s skilled with her hands.”
“What?”
He laughs, looking unusually buoyant. “I have no idea—but I fucking love your hands. You were great in there.”
We round a corner, and he kisses my forehead, just as he gets paged down to ER.
Landon
Surgery with Evie was incredible. I’m still smiling as I head downstairs. How lucky are we? That this shit worked out the way it did. Thank fuck for Pfizer that one summer, so we’d be in the same class. Thank fuck we met in 2007 and not 1987—so I could keep track of her online. I’m so glad I didn’t let her slip away, that I kept tabs on her, even when I felt like a pathetic fuck for it.
I’m feeling so damn chipper, Eilert frowns the second she approaches me outside bay one in the ER.
“What are you grinning about?” She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a sassy look that makes me laugh.
“C’mon, chief. Can’t a guy have a good day?”
“I don’t know.” Her brown eyes narrow, and I chuckle.
“All right, jolly Jones. We’ve got a ten year old female. Fell from a tree house four hours ago. Family deemed her okay, no signs of concussion, no mobility issues, then her hand got numb and tingly, then just numb. She’s at X-ray now. If there’s a need, we’ll move to CT with her. I don’t think we use the portable for this, though. As far as diagnosis, I’m thinking maybe bronchial plexus. I know you’ve got a soft spot for peds.” She winks. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks, Doc E. I’ll get her worked up.”
“First, you’ve gotta come and sign off on this admit. It’s my lunchtime. I’m craving some of that pasta with the marinara sauce.”
She shows me to a morose man who’s been admitted for an aneurism.
“You got any family with you, sir?”
He tells me he doesn’t. I find out his wife died just two months ago—right here on the eighth floor: oncology. Before I send him upstairs, we go over various counseling services the hospital offers for bereaved spouses. Then he’s off, whisked away by transport, and it’s time to take a glance at my peds case.
A quick peek through the curtain reveals she’s back from X-ray. Someone’s sitting with her, maybe more than one someone. I linger outside the curtain as I glance over her scans. X-rays look normal, vitals also normal, so I guess it’s off to CT with her.
The second I pull the curtain back, my stomach bottoms out. For the first few blinks, my brain sees Evie—Evie’s face and hair and posture. Little Evie. The resemblance is so stark, I take a step back, the air pushed from my lungs by shock.
I blink at the girl, searching for some crack in my perception—but the more I blink, the more I just see Evie.
Someone cloned her.
I blink a few more times as my head buzzes.
“Doc…” A burly man stands from his plastic chair, stepping toward me with his hand extended. “Hey there.” He clasps my hand. “I hope you’re here to fix my daughter.”
As his hand clasps mine, my gaze slides to the patient. And that’s when she looks at me with my eyes.
Fucking shitfuck, those are my eyes. Evie’s face, and my eyes. It’s unmistakable. I start to sweat as I look at her.
The girl frowns with Evie’s lips. “Are you a doctor?”
Fucking shit, she even sounds like Evie. I look down at my shoes on an inhale, then back up at her.
“I am.” I step closer to the bed. “So…I hear you’re having…problems with your hand?” My voice sounds froggy. My legs feel strange, so I reach out for the bed’s rail as I squat beside her. “Did I hear you fell from a tree house?”
She nods, looking matter-of-fact. “I fell off the ladder.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah.”
I look down at my tablet, back up at her. “So…your name is?”
“Ash,” she says, her gray gaze blinking up at me.
I inhale slowly. “How old are you, Ash?”
“I’m ten years old.” She gives me a frustrated look: all crinkled brows and pinched lips. “My hand is numb and tingly. I don’t like it.”
“Let me take a look.” I stand and lean down over her so I can examine her arm, and right up by her, I can really see her round, gray eyes. They blink, and the room tilts slightly.
“You look funny. Are you funny?” She tilts her head, and…fuck, it’s Evie. My body flushes and I stand up, feeling dizzy. Wasn’t there a movie or a book about…some kind of time traveler? I swallow as I wonder if this girl is some kind of multi-dimensional Evie. Then I realize that her name is Ash, and I feel like I might be sick.
“So, Ash…you…do you guys live around here?”
“Kind of.”
“And you have a tree house?”
“My dad built it.”
I swallow. I look to her parents almost reflexively. They’re both frowning at me.
“Sorry,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “Got a little headache,” I try.
“Are you hurt like me?” the girl asks.
“Nahh, I’m fine.” I take a deep breath, look down at my tablet, and try again. The tablet’s off. I turn it on with shaking fingers.
“You sound Southern,” I say, looking to the girl’s father.
“We’re from South Carolina, that’s right. Transferred out here seven years ago. I work with the railroad.”
I nod. Then I try to think of what I need to do next. This girl needs a CT scan. Maybe an MRI, too.
“What did you say your name was?” I ask. My head feels a little hollow.
“Ash.”
“I know that,” I say in a teasing tone. “But Ash what?”
“You said what’s your name, and I said that my name is Ash! There is no what.” She makes a silly face.
“Is there some kind of problem?” asks the mother. “You’re the doctor?”
“I’m a surgeon.”
The girl wails. “I don’t want surgery! What’s the matter with my arm? I have gymnastics camp tomorrow!”
“Ash, honey, try to calm down so this nice doctor— What’s your name?” the woman asks.
“Is Ash a family name?” I ask.
“Excuse me?”
My grip on the bed’s footboard tightens as another sick feeling comes over me. “I said is it a family name,” I rasp.
“I’m not sure that’s really your business.”
I look at the girl, who’s looking at me with my eyes. She looks sad. Uneasy. I blink a few times, wondering if I am going to pass out and will happen if I do. Eilert will be so confused.
“Do you need to sit down?” The woman frowns. “You look very pale.”
“No. No. I’ll get your…get this girl here taken care of. She’s your daughter?”
“Yes.”
I look down at my tablet, still not booted up, as the top of my head starts buzzing. “When was her birthday? What did you say?”
“It should be there,” the mom snaps. “They asked for all this in the intake room.”
“Was it December?” No… “Where was she born?”
“That doesn’t matter for her arm, but she was born in North Carolina.”
Oh fuck. I feel bile in my throat. “Where? I need to know. It’s…for a study.”