Sean nodded and stretched his arms over his head as he got up from the recliner.

"Will you be okay with him tonight?" I asked.

Sean looked down and shrugged.

"Do you want me to call hospice and have them send someone out to sit with him?"

"No...no...I can do this."

"You can call me anytime at the hospital if something comes up. I get off at six o'clock tomorrow morning, and I can stop by and check on him on my way home if that's not too early for you."

"No, that's not too early," Sean said, shaking his head. "I probably won't be able to sleep anyway."

"You have to take care of yourself, too. You know it's always the caregivers that get burned out the worst."

Sean walked me to the door; his face was clouded with sadness.

"What is it?" I asked, turning toward him.

"I hate watching him suffer."

Tears crept into the corners of his eyes.

"This is probably the hardest thing you'll ever do in your life, but I promise you that when everything is over and done, you'll be glad you were there for him. Just remember, he did right by you after your brother died and things got really bad between him and your mother. He stayed in a bad marriage until you graduated, just like he promised. Now's your chance to do right by him."

"What if I do something wrong? What if I mess up his medication or hurt him trying to move him?"

"You don't have to move him much. Just turn him side to side using the pull sheet like I showed you. He's on a pretty hefty dose of morphine, so if you keep giving it to him on schedule, he should be fine. If he gets anxious, give him the Ativan, just like I showed you. Slip it under his tongue, it works faster that way, and it will help him relax and sleep. The main goal is to keep him comfortable, and that means keeping him medicated even if you have to slip him a rescue dose."

"What do I do if he has trouble breathing?"

"He's got the oxygen. That will make his breathing easier. You can reposition him, sit him up or turn him on his side."

"What if he..." Sean looked down. "You know...he..."

"Then you call me immediately. I'll contact hospice and they'll send whoever is on call. He has a do not resuscitate order, so no one will perform CPR or anything heroic. The main thing is to keep him comfortable. If you think his condition is changing at all, call me. I don't want you to be alone when he dies." I reached up and touched his face.

"Thanks, Meen. You know I appreciate this."

I looked into those clear eyes I had seen so many times. A twinge of affection fluttered in the pit of my stomach. "I'll call later this evening to check on him." I turned and walked down the driveway to my car. I wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand as I drove across town to my apartment. I knew Ed had only a week or two left to live, if that. I already missed him.

I walked into my apartment and was greeted by the answering machine light flashing again. I pushed the button. You have three messages. First message: "Mina, it's Mom. I called to apologize for the other morning. I had no business putting you through something like that. Can I make it up to you? How about coming over for dinner tonight? Call me when you get in." Beep. Second message: "Hi, Debbie, it's Sandra. I'm sorry for what I said on your answering machine. I didn't mean it. I didn't know where you were and I thought you were just blowing me off. I really had a nice time the other night. Please give me a call." Beep. Third message: "Mina, it's Regan, give me a call. My number is 555-1689. I'll be home after five, thanks."Beeeeep.

I could tell by Regan's tone that this wasn't a professional call. Or maybe it was. Maybe she was just calling to tell me that she'd signed off Ed's case, that it was too uncomfortable for her to take care of him and be around Sean and me. Part of me hoped that's what it was. It would save me from an unpleasant call to have her taken off the case. I had no idea how I'd explain that she wasn't the right nurse for Ed without dragging our private lives into this or giving the impression that Regan had not done well in her duties. It was a tricky issue.

Regan wouldn't be off work for few hours, so I went into the bedroom and lay down across the bed to get some shut-eye. I'd call her before I went to work. I'd deal with my Mom and Sandra later.

The alarm went off at four forty-five. I stood under the steaming water and couldn't stop thinking about what Regan could possibly want. As the hot water pelted my body, memories came flooding back about the many times Regan and I had showered here together. Her soft wet skin, the intoxicating smell of her just shampooed hair. The luxuriant feel of it in my hands. I had to stop thinking about her this way. She was a married woman now, a married pregnant woman. I turned the cold water on full blast. That was enough to quell any sexual thoughts I might have about anybody.

I rehearsed my phone call back to Regan as I got dressed for work. "Hello, Regan, it's Mina" was as far as I got. I loaded my backpack with three cans of Diet Coke, a pack of Twinkies, and a banana. I took a deep breath and dialed Regan's number.

"Hello," a male voice answered.

"Hello, is Regan in?"

"Yes, she is. Who's calling?"

"Mina Caselli."

"Hold on a minute," he said and set the phone down. "Regan, phone."

"Hello?" Regan said.

"Regan, it's Mina."

"Oh, hi. I'm glad you called back."

My heart thumped at the sound of her voice. I couldn't control my erratic pulse, and in my mind, a crazy mixture of hope and fear swirled.

Silence filled the phone line. Regan waited for the person who had answered the phone to leave. I assumed it was her husband.

She cleared her throat. "Mina, I thought maybe we could...you know, talk about things."

"Things?"

"I feel bad...seeing you today...I mean, I never wanted to...oh, this is so hard to do on the phone. Are you busy this evening?"

"I'm working tonight, but I get a dinner break at eight p.m. Why don't you come by the emergency room? We can have dinner together. That is, if you don't mind hospital food."

"Oh, I don't mind at all. Jim will be working at the bar tonight, so this will give me something to do."

"Great. I'll see you in the ER at eight o'clock. Just tell the receptionist you're looking for Dr. Caselli."

"Dr. Caselli...hmm, that sounds so strange," Regan said. "But a good strange."

A warm glow flowed through me. "I'll see you later," I said and hung up.

I took a deep breath and picked up the phone again and dialed Rosetti's number. My insides were churning with excitement, and I needed my best friend's words of wisdom to bring me back to reality. I got a busy signal. I figured she was sleeping because she was probably still on the graveyard shift. Disappointed, I hung up the phone. I'll try her again later tonight.

I was happy to see Page's car when I pulled into the physician's parking lot, and I couldn't wait to tell her my news. For five years, I had cried on her shoulder about missing Regan, now she would get to meet her.

"Hey," I said as I entered the women's locker room. Page was pulling a scrub top over her curly blond head.

"Hey," Page said, poking her head through the shirt opening.

"Guess who's meeting me for dinner tonight?"

"With your reputation, it's hard to guess."

"Very funny."

We both laughed.

"Okay, I give up. Who are you having dinner with tonight?"

"Regan."

"Regan? The Regan?"

I nodded.

Page sat on the wooden bench in front of a row of gray lockers and pulled me down with her. "Wow. Details...I want details and don't leave anything out."

"I was over at Sean's this morning, getting Ed settled. We were waiting for hospice to come in and get him admitted, and lo and behold, guess who his hospice nurse is."

"You're kidding! That's unbelievable. What were the chances of you two meeting up like that?"

"I know. But wait, there's more."

"What? Tell me." Page scooted closer to me on the bench.

"Well...she's married...and she's about eight months pregnant."

"Get out of here! No way!"

"Yes, I know. I was just as shocked as you are. Actually, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her."

"Boy, that's a shocker," Page said. "Gee, Mina, I'm sorry. That's probably not how you imagined your reunion with her."

I shook my head. "No, it isn't."

"So whose idea was it to have dinner tonight?"

"Hers."

"What do you think she wants? Free prenatal care?"

"That's not nice."

"Sorry. I just don't trust this girl. I don't like what she did to you. She caused you a lot of pain."

"I know. But I'm over it."

Page looked at me skeptically. I'm sure she was wondering if I was trying to convince her or myself of this fact.

"I really am," I insisted. "Anyway, she said she felt bad how she left things and wants to talk about it."

"Well, she should feel bad. You didn't deserve that. You were good to her."

I smiled. Page was always my best cheerleader.

I pulled a fresh pair of scrubs out of my locker and changed clothes, transforming myself from emotionally mixed-up Mina Caselli to efficient Dr. Caselli, ER chief resident. I draped my stethoscope around my neck and headed to the conference room to get report from the off-going shift.

Report lasted almost an hour. The previous shift had been pretty busy: two major car accidents, a drug overdose, and a full cardiac arrest. They brought the patient back and he was on his way up to CCU. I was assigned to the adult side of the ER with Page.

The last of the car accident victims needed to be discharged. I checked the patient's chest X-ray to see if any hairline fractures or punctured lungs were missed on the first reading before letting him go. There were none, so I took the paperwork in and signed the patient out.

The ER was eerily quiet that night. It was only seven o'clock and all the patients were discharged or taken to the floors. I picked up a stack of old charts that I needed to review and took them into the doctor's lounge. I poured myself a cup of coffee and settled in to get my chart reviews done in one sitting. Page joined me a few minutes later with her own stack of charts.

"So are you nervous about your dinner date tonight?" Page asked.

"It's not a date. Remember she's married and pregnant. And I had nothing to do with either situation."

"What are you going to say to her?"

"I have no idea. I guess I'll let her take the lead."

"I think she still has feelings for you."

"That's ridiculous. Why would you think that?"

"Why else would she call you like this?"

"Maybe she feels guilty. If there's one thing I remember about my relationship with her, it's that there was a lot of guilt."

"Really? How so?"

"Regan felt guilty about everything: guilty over her feelings for me, guilty about acting on her feelings, and most of all, guilty about the sex. My God, you'd swear the girl was brought up Catholic."

Page laughed. "I'm starving," she said, getting up from her chair and stretching her back. "I'm going to go down to the snack bar. Do you want anything?"

I shook my head. "No thanks, I brought a couple of Twinkies and a banana. I'm good."

Page left and I returned to my paperwork. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the lounge door. "Dr. Caselli?" Amy called through the closed door.

"Yes, Amy, come on in."

"Dr. Caselli, I have a patient in exam room one...She asked for you. Twenty-nine-year-old female eight months pregnant. Fell down the stairs at home...she's got a pretty big head laceration, and I think she's in labor."

"Get me the fetal heart monitor and the ultrasound machine," I ordered as I grabbed my stethoscope and flew down the hall to exam room one. I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer before pulling back the curtain, praying it wasn't her. I was immediately disappointed.

"Hey, you're a little early for dinner," I said, trying to keep the mood light in an unbearably difficult situation.

Regan smiled faintly. Her face was tear-stained. She held a blue and white checkered dishtowel to her head. It was soaked with blood.

"What happened?"

"I fell down the stairs."