“Good night, Paige.”
“Good night, John.”
John Cronin sighed and closed his eyes, a beatific smile on his face.
Paige sat there watching him, thinking about what she was about to do. She remembered how horrified she had been on her first day of rounds with Dr. Radnor. She’s been in a coma for six weeks. Her vital signs are failing. There’s nothing more we can do for her. We’ll pull the plug this afternoon. Was it wrong to release a fellow human being from his misery?
Slowly, as though she were moving under water, Paige rose and walked to a cabinet in the corner, where a bottle of insulin was kept for emergency use. She removed the bottle and stood there, staring at it. Then she uncapped the bottle. She filled a syringe with the insulin and walked back to John Cronin’s bedside. There was still time to go back. I’m lying here like a trapped animal…This isn’t living—it’s dying. For God’s sake, help me!
Paige leaned forward and slowly injected the insulin into the IV attached to Cronin’s arm.
“Sleep well,” Paige whispered. She was unaware that she was sobbing.
Paige drove home and stayed awake the rest of the night, thinking about what she had done.
At six o’clock in the morning, she received a telephone call from one of the residents at the hospital.
“I’m sorry to give you bad news, Dr. Taylor. Your patient John Cronin died of cardiac arrest early this morning.
The staff doctor in charge that morning was Dr. Arthur Kane.
Chapter Thirty-one
The one other time Ken Mallory had gone to an opera, he had fallen asleep. On this night he was watching Rigoletto at the San Francisco Opera House and enjoying every minute of it. He was seated in a box with Lauren Harrison and her father. In the lobby of the opera house during intermission, Alex Harrison had introduced him to a large number of friends.
“This is my future son-in-law and a brilliant doctor, Ken Mallory.”
Being Alex Harrison’s son-in-law was enough to make him a brilliant doctor.
After the performance, the Harrisons and Mallory went to the Fairmont Hotel for supper in the elegant main dining room. Mallory enjoyed the deferential greeting that the maître d’ gave to Alex Harrison as he led them to their booth. From now on, I’ll be able to afford places like this, Mallory thought, and everyone is going to know who I am.
After they had ordered, Lauren said, “Darling, I think we should have a party to announce our engagement.”
“That’s a good idea!” her father said. “We’ll make it a big one. What do you say, Ken?”
A warning bell sounded in Mallory’s mind. An engagement party would mean publicity. I’ll have to set Kat straight first. A little money should take care of that. Mallory cursed the stupid bet he had made. For a mere ten thousand dollars, his whole shining future might now be in jeopardy. He could just imagine what would happen if he tried to explain Kat to the Harrisons.
By the way, I forgot to mention that I’m already engaged to a doctor at the hospital. She’s black…
Or: Do you want to hear something funny? I bet the boys at the hospital ten thousand dollars I could fuck this black doctor…
Or: I already have one wedding planned…
No, he thought, I’ll have to find a way to buy Kat off.
They were looking at Mallory expectantly.
Mallory smiled. “A party sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Lauren said enthusiastically, “Good. I’ll get things started. You men have no idea what it takes to give a party.”
Alex Harrison turned to Mallory. “I’ve already started the ball rolling for you, Ken.”
“Sir?”
“Gary Gitlin, the head of North Shore Hospital, is an old golf buddy of mine. I talked to him about you, and he doesn’t think there will be any problem about having you affiliated with his hospital. That’s quite prestigious, you know. And at the same time, I’ll get you set up in your own practice.”
Mallory listened, filled with a sense of euphoria. “That’s wonderful.”
“Of course, it will take a few years to build up a really lucrative practice, but I think you should be able to make two or three hundred thousand dollars the first year or two.”