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Ben headed into the room where they'd done their emergency surgery...
He was relieved that the outcome of Sandra's pregnancy was the survival of the baby ... no help to Julia. He slammed his fist into the padded exam table. Why did she do it? Why did she panic like that?
He paused. In the deserted clinic, he heard a noise.
He followed it down the hall to the linen closet. From inside he heard the sound of frenzied weeping.
It could only be Julia. He'd thought she'd gone home after her mad dash from the surgery, but it seemed she'd gone into hiding instead.
He yanked open the door.
She sat in the dark closet on a laundry bag stuffed with soiled linens, crying into a towel. When the light hit her, she jerked her face up and hiccupped. She looked, he thought uncharitably, terrible. Her eyes were swollen, her nose was red, her cheeks mottled.
"Would you like to explain what the hell happened back there?" he barked.
She buried her face in the towel once more and sobbed. He recognized the signs of impending hysteria and knew that anger at this moment would only push her over the edge.
He reached down, gripped her by the arm, and pulled her upright. "My place," he ordered. "Get going. You have some explaining to do."
