“Of course it is, Jane. I have complete faith.” His eyes twinkled at her. And of course it was. After all, wasn’t she the best coordinator on any team? That was why she worked for God. And she thought the world of him, professionally speaking, but she would never let him know as much. And in his turn, he knew beyond all certainties that she would never let the side down. Every detail had been taken care of, from the moment the donor had been declared dead from a massive brain hemorrhage. The scan showed no activity, and the life support was left in quiet symphony with the spirit, whatever that meant. That had been hours ago. As the donor had carried a card, there had been no question about going ahead: although the next of kin, who had been at the hospital at the time of death, had also signed the consent forms. Copies of everything were already in the files and on the computer.

The phone rang again, drawing her back to her station, demanding attention. This time the call took Jane by surprise. Everyone and everything had been called, checked, and double-checked. So this could only mean a hitch. Azziz made eye contact with her, a question inflecting them. She nodded reassurances at him, belying her real reaction. “Damn,” she thought out loud, censoring her worse language in front of the doctor when she realized the single word had escaped her.

Her family would not see her for dinner anytime tonight. “Another working weekend, Mama,” little Sarah had said. “When do I get to see you, I mean really see you?” She had wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and wouldn’t let go when she came to say she was off early this morning. People with families shouldn’t take on these jobs. Jane barely stifled the thought, then turned to the job at hand in the blink of an eye, with total professionalism.

She ended the call with a finger on the pulse, got a new dial tone, and phoned out in the same motion. “Hello there, James. Can you fill in for me at once?” She nodded a few times to herself, once to Mr. Azziz, said, “Oh, that’s grand,” and put the handset down. She rolled her eyes. “That was a call we could have done better without,” she explained to God, the Irish inflection in her voice helping her to sound upbeat. “I thought he was on call—according to my paperwork—but we’ve had no success contacting your preferred immunologist. Apparently he’s a day late getting back from a conference. His secretary can’t locate him—although she insists he was rostered off for his birthday today. Anyhow, Dr. Lovell will fill in for us—he’s still in the building and will be here in five minutes, and we won’t need him for long.”