Maya began crying harder.
Evelyn looked at her.
“Stop.”
“I’m not dying.”
Several people laughed through the tension.
Evelyn checked the time.
5:54.
Her shift ended at seven.
Denise said:
“You can go home.”
“I know.”
“You won't lose pay.”
“I know.”
“Do you want someone to drive you?”
“No.”
Evelyn picked up her purse.
Then looked toward Howard’s room.
“I’m going to say goodbye to my patient.”
Mark stepped aside.
Evelyn entered.
Howard looked at her.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he said:
“I am ashamed.”
Evelyn pulled the chair closer.
“You had surgery today.”
“You were frightened.”
“That explains anger.”
“It doesn't excuse everything said around you.”
Howard looked at the watch.
“I didn't call you a thief.”
“No.”
“But I let my son do it.”
“You were also recovering from sedation.”
“I knew enough.”
Evelyn sat.
Howard touched the watch face.
“Margaret gave me this when we were twenty-five.”
“She worked nights.”
“I was starting my first teaching job.”
“We had no money.”
“She saved for five months.”
“I thought losing it meant losing something from her again.”
Evelyn nodded.
“I understand that.”
Howard looked at her.
“That doesn't make what happened to you acceptable.”
“No.”
“It doesn't.”
He held out his hand.
Evelyn took it.
“I’m sorry.”
Howard said.
She squeezed once.
“Thank you.”
“Will you be here tomorrow?”
That question surprised her.
“I don't know.”
Howard’s eyes filled.
“Then I hope whatever you choose is yours.”
Evelyn looked at him.
That was the first thing anyone had said all afternoon that reached the part of her still standing in the hallway without a badge.
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
At 6:07, Evelyn left St. Gabriel Medical Center.
For the first time in thirty-eight years, she walked out before the end of a shift without being sick, called away by family, or required to leave during an emergency.
The parking garage felt colder than usual.
She reached her car.
Sat behind the steering wheel.
And did nothing.
Her hands rested in her lap.
Badge still clipped to her uniform.
She touched it.
Thirty-eight years.
She thought of Arthur.
He would have been furious.
Not loud.
Arthur was rarely loud.
He would have said:
“They embarrassed you before they asked enough questions.”
Then he would have made tea.
He would have listened while she repeated the same sentences three times.
Then he would have asked:
“What do you want to do?”
She heard the question anyway.
What do you want to do?
Evelyn started the car.
Drove home.
Her house was quiet.
She turned on the kitchen light.
Arthur’s old mug still sat in the cabinet because she had never been able to throw it away.
She made tea in it.
Then sat at the table wearing her uniform.
At 7:13, Maya called.
Evelyn let it ring.
At 7:16, her sister Denise called.
Different Denise.
Evelyn ignored that too.
At 7:22, Thomas Jenkins called.
She answered.
“Hello.”
“Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to check on you.”
“You found the truth.”
“We found evidence.”
“You had been telling the truth the whole time.”