Page 113 of Clara Knows Best

He’d really wanted a miracle tonight.

“Dr. Flores, wait!”

It was Margo, and she was worried about him.

“I’m going home,” he said, without slowing.

She followed him down the hall. “Do you want me to drive you?”

“No.”

“Jesse, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

“At least there’s no family for you to talk to,” she suggested weakly.

He pushed open the door to the doctor’s lounge, knowing she wouldn’t follow him there. Hereallydid not want to talk to Margo about his young patient’s lack of family. He went past the couches to the locker room, stripped naked, and got under a stream of scalding hot water.

And he cried.

Tears rolled down his face unchecked, mingling with the tap water. He hadn’t cried over a patient since early in his residency, but it wasn’t hard to figure out why this one had gotten to him: he’d felt like he was looking down at himself on the table. Hispanic youth, fourteen or fifteen years old, clearly homeless. A runaway. Lanky build, underweight, thick, straight hair a couple of inches too long. They even had the same blood type.

But no fairy godmother with a barrette in her hair had come for this kid, and no stone-faced commando had been standing watch over him tonight.

46

The man had shared his location with her. She still couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t answered any of her texts, but she’d been notified several hours ago that he was sharing his location, and she could see that he was still at the hospital at nine o’clock, nine-thirty, ten, ten-thirty.

He was almost certainly in surgery, and she knew that could take all night. This was his way of letting her know if she should expect him or not.

But when she checked at eleven, he had left the hospital.

The bad news was that they were not too far from the neighborhood he lived in, so they wouldn’t know until the last minute if he was coming to the sleepy little nightclub or going home. But if she had to hunt him down, she’d do it in the morning.

She put her phone into her purse and zipped it shut.

“So, is he different?” Eve asked curiously. “I haven’t seen him since your high school graduation, I think. Or maybe it was Hart’s.”

“You’ll know him right away,” Liesl predicted. “His looks haven’t changed, to speak of.”

Clara was surprised. “Really? I was shocked when I saw him.”

“Oh, I thought he looked the same.”

“No, not at all! He’s all filled out now.Older. More facial hair.”

Eve nodded wisely.

“He’s still very serious,” Liesl went on. “Wouldn’t you say, Clara?”

“Yup,” she sighed. Hewasvery serious, like he carried the weight of the world. “I was hoping I could get him to have some fun tonight, but he’s probably exhausted. I should text him not to bother.”

“At least it’s near his house,” Eve said supportively. “He can just stop in for a minute, and it might cheer him up if he’s had a rough day.”

“Well, there he is,” Liesl announced, nodding toward the entrance. “What do you think, Eve? Would you know him?”

“Wow, he looks great,” Eve said.

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