My heart hammers in my chest, my legs jelly as I slowly coast to the wall before dropping against it with a heavy thud. Racing thoughts swarm through me, my stomach churning as fear grips my insides.
I have no idea how long I stand out here, sweating and freaking out to the point of physical pain. All I know is, it feels like forever before the door opens and Janet goes storming out, her face a painted warship of rage.
Her eye catches mine and for a second I think she’s going to charge me when Carter steps out into the hall and points for her to go. A shrill sound flees her lungs, her lips form a pompous snarl before she beats a path down the hall, forcing anyone in her way to scatter to the walls for safety.
What the hell just happened?
A glimmer of hope swarms through me as my gaze casts back, finding Carter standing there, ever the stoic bastard. “Grace? You ready?”
Do I have a choice? I want to ask.
And just like that, that glimmer of hope is gone.
Especially when I step foot into the room doing everything in my power to contain my gasp. The CEO of the hospital, Dr. Smart, the head of the surgical department, Dr. Rohrs, the head of OB-GYN and Carter’s boss, Dr. Westerfield, all lined up at the table. Carter takes his seat beside Dr. Westerfield on the opposite side of the table, leaving me stranded and alone.
This is absolutely not how I saw this morning going.
“Dr. Hammond,” Dr. Smart greets me. “Please, come and have a seat.” He waves to the empty seat across from all of them, and all I can do is nod dutifully.
Dread pools low in my belly and I can’t look at Carter though I feel his eyes. Imploring and impenetrable, they’re making me nervous instead of filling me with reassurance.
“Dr. Hammond, do you know why we called you in here today?”
Are we back in grade school or are you a cop, I want to ask him. Who asks bullshit questions like that?
“Not exactly, sir,” I reply, taking my offered seat and settling in, pushing myself in my rolling chair up to the oval-shaped table. Ready, but not even close to ready at all.
“Alright. Well, there are a few departmental matters we’d like to discuss,” he continues. “They are of a very sensitive nature and everything we discuss here this morning must remain confidential. Even after a formal announcement is made.”
“Of course.”
Dr. Smart nods, seemingly mollified before turning to his right. “Dr. Westerfield, would you like to take over?”
“Sure.” Dr. Westerfield smiles warmly at me, placing her hands on the table in front of her. “Grace, first, let me begin by saying that your work here during your residency has been exemplary. Your patient care has been top-notch as has your work with the residents, fellows, and other attendings.”
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice caught high in my throat.
“It has been on our radar for some time now that there has been animosity between Dr. Johnson and yourself. Complaints were registered by her in the months she’s been here, yet we haven’t received any from you.”
I swallow hard and nod, my fingers knotting in my lap.
“Complaining about my fellow residents isn’t exactly how I like to conduct myself,” I state simply. “I’m here to work, to do my job to the best of my ability, not to be disparaging about the work of others.”
“Are you aware she’s made multiple disquieting allegations about you?” Dr. Rohrs jumps in. “Both personally and professionally.”
I lift my chin. “I’m not aware of anything specific she’s claimed. Only that she’s made them as she already informed me of that.”
A look passes between Dr. Rohrs and Dr. Westerfield before they return their focus to me.
“After Dr. Johnson’s accident, we did a formal investigation at the request of Dr. Fritz. We interviewed everyone from the nurses to the patient and her spouse to other residents who were in the room when the event took place. You see, she had stated in her incident report that she was spread thin with her patient load. That the reason she ‘fell’”—Dr. Rohrs puts air quotes around the word—“is because she was rushing, trying to keep up. She claimed you weren’t picking up enough patients and she was carrying the burden.”
“That’s absolutely false,” flies out of my mouth before I can stop it, my hands now gripping the underside of the table so I don’t shoot out of my seat.
“That is precisely what Dr. Fritz told us as well,” Dr. Westerfield cuts in. “A matter we’ll discuss in further detail in a moment. However, the difficulty with this situation only began there. Especially with the most recent allegations Dr. Johnson has made against you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“When Dr. Fritz first came on, we were aware of your relationship with his family and the potential conflict of interest with him as your supervising attending. We overlooked it as a potential concern at the time because Dr. Fritz assured us any personal relationship you had with him, or his family would not impact your work here.”
My gaze flickers briefly to Carter before rebounding back to Dr. Westerfield. I lick my lips nervously, unsure how to respond.
“I would say this has remained true,” Dr. Westerfield goes on. “Wouldn’t you agree?” She twists her neck to Dr. Rohrs.
“Absolutely,” she states emphatically, tucking her brown hair behind her ears and shifting in her seat. “Even when Dr. Fritz informed us of the change in your relationship status. Which is why we were so surprised by the concerns Dr. Johnson has raised.”
Flattening a hand across my stomach, I attempt to brace myself for what I know is next to come. Wait… “I’m sorry, what?” My head snaps in Carter’s direction though he is a perfect mask of indifference. He told them about us? When?
“Dr. Johnson’s incident occurred prior to Dr. Fritz informing us of your personal relationship,” Dr. Westerfield maintains, leaning forward and placing her forearms on the table between us. “But her report was filed after.”
“I still don’t follow,” I admit.
“We had already conducted a review of your work, Grace,” she informs me. “Of your evaluations, of your schedule, of your time with patients, of your work with your residents. All of it. So the allegations Dr. Johnson had made about you not taking on an adequate patient load didn’t quite add up with our own report on your work. By the time her incident report came in, you had already been moved onto my team for evaluation while still receiving instruction from Dr. Fritz. This had been done since Dr. Fritz was no longer able to analyze your work objectively.”
“Alright.” I’m so confused.
“After we reviewed her incident report, and the interviews of others,” Dr. Rohrs picks up where Dr. Westerfield left off, “we were concerned to say the least with what we discovered. As a matter of protection for the hospital, we shifted Dr. Johnson’s schedule to allow for more one-on-one time with Dr. Fritz as we felt she needed more direct tutelage. As you can imagine, for legal purposes this was kept entirely confidential.”
I fall back in my seat, rubbing at my mouth while staring at each of these doctors in turn.
No wonder I worked mostly with Dr. Westerfield and not Carter. No wonder Janet worked so many hours side by side with him. It wasn’t because Carter was pushing me out or had lost confidence in me after my seizure. It was because he had told them we were together, and I could no longer be evaluated by him because our relationship posed a conflict of interest for him.