Between Sisters - Kristin Hannah [143]
“Do you know a surgeon who would do it? Who could do it?”
“Stu Weissman at UCLA.”
“Ah. The cowboy. Yes, maybe.”
“I can't practice. I've let my license lapse. Could you send Stu the film? I'll call him.”
Li flicked off the light. “I will. You know, it's an easy thing to reinstate your license.”
“Yes.” Joe stood there a moment longer. Silence spread like a stain between the men. “Well. I should go call Stu.” He started to leave.
“Wait.”
He turned back around.
“Did any of the staff speak to you?”
“No. It's hard to know what to say to a murderer.”
Li moved toward him. “A few believed that of you, yes. Most . . . of us . . . just don't know what to say. Privately, many of us would have wanted to do the same thing. Diana was in terrible pain, everyone knew that, and there was no hope. We thank God that we were not in your shoes.”
Joe had no answer to that.
“You have a gift, Joe,” Li said slowly. “Losing it would be a crime, too. When you're ready—if you ever are—you come back to see me. This office is in the business of saving lives, not worrying about old gossip.”
“Thank you.” They were small words, too small to express his gratitude. Embarrassed by the depth of his emotion, Joe mumbled thanks again, and left the office.
Downstairs, in the lobby, he found a bank of pay phones and called Stu Weissman.
“Joe Wyatt,” Stu said loudly. “How the hell are you? I thought you fell off the face of the earth. Damn shame, that hell you went through.”
Joe didn't want to waste time with the where-have-you-been stuff. There would be time for that when Stu got up here. So he said, “I have a surgery I want you to do. It's risky as hell. You're the only man I know who is good enough.” Stu was a sucker for compliments.
“Talk to me.”
Joe explained what he knew of Claire's history, told him the current diagnosis, and outlined what he'd seen on the film.
“And you think there's something I can do.”
“Only you.”
“Well, Joe. Your eyes are the best in the business. Send me the film. If I see what you do, I'll be on the next plane. But you make sure the patient understands the risks. I don't want to get there and have to turn around.”
“You got it. Thanks, Stu.”
“Good to hear from you,” Stu said, then hung up.
Joe replaced the receiver. Now all he had to do was speak to Claire.
He went back to the elevators, then crossed the sky bridge and headed into Swedish Hospital. He kept his gaze pinned on the floor. A few people frowned in recognition, a few more whispered behind him. He ignored them and kept moving. No one had the guts to actually speak to him or ask why he was back here, until he reached the ICU.
There someone said, “Dr. Wyatt?”
He turned slowly. It was Trish Bey, the head ICU nurse. They'd worked together for years. She and Diana had become close friends at the end. “Hello, Trish.”
She smiled. “It's good to see you back here. We missed you.”
His shoulders relaxed. He almost smiled in return. “Thanks.” They stood there, staring at each other for an awkward moment, then he nodded, said good-bye, and headed for Claire's room.
He knocked quietly and opened the door.
She was sitting up in bed, asleep, her head cocked to one side. The patchy hairless area made her look impossibly young.
He moved toward her, trying not to remember when Diana had looked like this. Pale and fragile, her hair thinning to the point where she looked like an antique doll that had been loved too hard and then discarded.
She blinked awake, stared at him. “Joey,” she whispered, smiling tiredly. “I heard you were home. Welcome back.”
He pulled a chair over and sat down beside her bed. “Hey, Claire.”
“I know. I've looked better.”
“You're beautiful. You always have been.”
“Bless you, Joe. I'll tell Di hi for you.” She closed her eyes. “I'm sorry, but I'm tired.”
“Don't be in such a hurry to see my wife.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes. It seemed to take her a minute to focus on him. “There's no hope, Joe. You of all people know what that's like. It hurts too much to pretend. Okay?”
“I see it . . . differently.”
“You think the