Chapter 11: After Hours

Kerry's POV

On Thursday night I was told to take a leave of absence with pay until the school finished its review.

The principal said it kindly, and she did not look at me while she said it.

I walked out of the building with a box of crayons, a class photo and eight months of lesson plans in a tote bag.

I could not go home.

My mother was asleep, and the apartment was quiet in a way that made me want to throw something.

So I drove to St. Luke's with a plastic spoon in my pocket and told myself I was returning it.

The cardiac floor was dim at nine o'clock.

A nurse at the desk looked at my face, pointed down the hall and said, "Last door."

Sam's office had a desk buried in charts, a lamp, a window over the parking garage and a dying fern.

He was standing at the window in shirtsleeves, with his tie off and his collar open.

He turned when I knocked on the open door.

"Kerry."

"I came to give back your spoon."

"You brought a plastic spoon."

"It's the principle."

He crossed the room and took it from my hand, and our fingers touched.

I stayed where I was.

"They put me on leave," I said. "It's paid. It's temporary. It's what they do when they want a problem to be quiet."

"I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that."

"I keep meaning it."

I looked at his hands, and at the pulse beating in his throat above the open collar.

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