“Thank you for being on time this morning,” Bourse said, beckoning Pia and George to follow her. She gestured to a couple of straight-backed chairs for them to sit in. She had seen a note in Pia’s file, which she’d read overnight, written by a particularly zealous clinical preceptor during her second-year introduction to surgery. It said that Pia had difficulty arriving on time for early-morning appointments, even after being admonished that such behavior was not tolerated in surgery. Although it was usually only about five to ten minutes, it was consistent, and the preceptor indicated that she thought it was a serious lapse.

Dr. Bourse sat down and regarded her two students. “To begin, I’m afraid I have some very bad news.” Her voice had the gravity appropriate to the situation. “There’s no way to say this other than just to say it. Doctors Rothman and Yamamoto both died this morning. They were being prepped for surgery for rapidly developing peritonitis, but they didn’t make it.”

“I know,” Pia said.

“How do you know?” Dr. Bourse was confused. She had just learned it herself.

“I went to the infectious disease unit this morning. I woke up early. I thought maybe the new antibiotic would have had an effect, but I was told they had died.”

Dr. Bourse stared at Pia, whose voice sounded as if all the fight had gone out of her. She could see that the young woman’s eyes were rimmed with emotion and fatigue. Dr. Bourse sighed. Here was yet another example of Pia’s marked willfulness, as she herself had told both Pia and George in no uncertain terms to go back to their rooms, check their temperatures regularly, and stay there until this meeting. Yet Pia had willfully ignored the order.

Dr. Bourse sighed again, still looking directly at Pia, whose eyes were, as usual, diverted. “Okay, I’ll try to overlook the fact that I told you to stay in your dorm room. I gather you went to the hospital because of your closeness with Dr. Rothman?”

Pia nodded. She had an urge to admit that for her, Rothman had morphed into the father she never had, but she held her tongue. It wasn’t in her to be forthright with her secrets.

“At least you made no attempt to go back to the lab, or did you?”

George looked quickly at Pia, worried. The thought that Pia might try to go back to the lab without him had not occurred to George.

“No, I didn’t,” Pia said quietly, and George exhaled.

“Did you both check your temperatures as I asked?”

Both students nodded, although George had had to abandon his thermometer when Pia flew out of his room that morning.