“This is one of her pieces. I bought it last fall.”
Brew’s gaze dropped to the screen. Color. Texture. Movement. Even through her phone, the painting carried something alive.
His brow tightened slightly.
“She’s an artist,” Elena said quietly. “A really well-known one, actually. Randi Caleb.”
The name settled and shifted something.
Brew looked back at the woman in the bed. At the hand he had fought to save.
And for the first time since the surgery, the weight of it changed.
“That information stays here,” he said, voice low and controlled. “She’s treated like any other patient.”
“Of course,” Elena nodded. “I just thought -”
“I know why you told me. I know how crucial recovery will mean to her. We fight equally hard for every patient we come across. That is what we do.”
He turned back toward the patient’s bed.
But something had shifted. A line drawn. Another beginning to blur.
Behind them, a soft sound broke the quiet.
The patient moaned. Her lids twitched, then slowly she forced her eyes to open.
Elena turned.
“She’s waking.”
Brew stepped forward instinctively.
Randi’s long, tick lashes fluttered, touching her cheek, her brow tightening as awareness began to return. Light. Sound. Pain.
Her breath hitched.
“Easy,” Elena said softly. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe, dear.”
Dear, an endearment a mother or Nana would offer. It set her at ease.
The nurse’s eyes held a tenderness that was also calming - soothing. She felt the woman’s warmth and genuine concern. She was an attractive, full-figured Latino woman with hair as dark as the doctor’s. Randi was certain thattheir cultures were different, yet similar.
“Where…” Randi’s voice broke. “am I? Wha … what happened to me?”
Brew stepped closer, his tone steady.
“You were in a car accident and flown to the Mayo Clinic Gonda Vascular Center here in Rochester. I’m Doctor Brewer Clay, Head Vascular Surgeon.”
Her breathing quickened as she gazed down at her bandaged hand.
“My… my hand…”
“You had a severe injury,” he said gently. “But we were able to repair the damage.”
She squirmed sharply, causing her to clutch her ribcage and moan painfully.
“I’m afraid you also fractured four ribs. They’ll heal naturally in three to six weeks. We’ll get youstarted on some deep breathing therapy to prevent pneumonia setting in.”
