Rene raised her glass in response to the toast being offered in her honor, a lump rising in her throat.

“To our beloved Dr. Elder,” the head nurse said. “I don’t think I can put into words just how much you mean to me—to us all. You inspire us daily with your unwavering commitment to our patients. You’ll be greatly missed.” Lorena tilted her glass toward Rene.

The conference room was packed with colleagues in white coats and scrubs. Those who’d arrived early for the Thursday afternoon gathering had snagged the half-dozen seats around the table that served as the hub for lunches and case conferences. It was covered with a bright plastic tablecloth upon which rested a big sheet cake and a punch bowl. Later arrivals leaned against the wall or stood in front of the counter, blocking access to the all-important coffee machine. Stragglers stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, craning to hear. Rene was wedged into the back corner facing everyone.

The unspoken questions were evident on their faces. No doubt they’d heard the rumors about her conflict with Dr. Stauss after three-year-old Marcella’s tragic death. But the conflict with Stauss wasn’t the primary reason for her resignation.

Rene took a sip of the cold punch to ease the lump in her throat and began. “I was a young child when my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” Her voice quavered, but she didn’t care. “I tried my best to make sense of his words as they devolved into nonsense. I remember sitting on his lap, pretending to have a delightful conversation—even as he spoke gibberish.” She needed them to understand. “I was powerless to reach him.”

She steadied as she made eye contact with her friends and colleagues around the room. “That struggle to communicate with my grandfather became the motivation for my career in neurosurgery and my time here at the hospital. And now that personal history has become the impetus for why I’m leaving you. For many months, I’ve been laying the groundwork to launch my own research facility. Everything is now in place, and I’ll start the preliminary experiments tomorrow.” She paused. “I must find a way to reach people whose verbal skills are stifled by disease or injury. I must give them back their voices.”

Many of her colleagues nodded, and several dabbed their eyes.

“I’ll miss you all dearly.” She raised her glass higher in salute. “But I leave you all . . . for Gramps.”

Silence hung in the air for a few moments. Then came a round of warm applause and scattered comments.

“Bravo!”

“Go for it!”

“Hear! Hear!”

A scurry of activity followed as the swing shift scrambled to grab slices of cake before tending to their duties and as the day shift headed home. The absence of Dr. Stauss was conspicuous, but Rene was grateful for it. She’d worried he might show up and create a scene.

She worked her way to the door, acknowledging each person and accepting hugs from the nurses, aides, a physical therapist, the unit clerk, and even the floor’s housekeeper, who’d come for a quick goodbye. A neurosurgeon could only do so much; treating people with issues like brain tumors and spinal cord injuries took a dedicated team. She surged with gratitude for having been a part of this talented group.

Finally, only Rene and the head nurse remained. Lorena was tearful, and Rene’s eyes welled up in response. “You’re setting off on an uncharted course,” the nurse said. “Good luck to you.”

“I’m so appreciative of your loyalty.” Rene had counted on Lorena during the investigation into Marcella’s death and Rene’s role in the subsequent investigation of Dr. Stauss’s flawed decisions. Rene still had nightmares about the child and the parents’ grief.

“I just offered you an ear to talk it through. You’re the one who had the courage to shine a light on what Dr. Stauss did.”

The hug from the no-nonsense nurse lasted longer than Rene would have expected, before she patted Rene’s back and stepped away. “Grab some of that cake to take home, why don’t you,” Lorena offered. “There’s lots left over.”

“I will, thanks. Tonight I’m just looking forward to a hot bath and going to bed early so I’m ready to kick off my experiments first thing in the morning,” she said. “But I’ll take a couple of pieces to have after dinner tomorrow. Rob is fixing me a special meal to celebrate.”

Lorena nodded. “Sounds fun . . . I gotta run now; we’ve got two new admits coming up from the ER.”

“Thanks again. For everything.”

Rene shook the crumbs out of a container from her lunch bag and filled it with a generous portion of cake. Then she succumbed to temptation and sampled a slice of the chocolate dessert, taking a last look around the room where she’d spent so many hours debriefing cases with colleagues. She’d miss this space, the camaraderie, the urgency of saving lives.

After gathering her things, she took a last walk down the hospital hall to make sure she’d said farewell to all the patients on her caseload. It was after three, and her last shift as a hospital employee had just ended. She was free. Well, almost. Technically, she was using up her vacation balance next week, and she had to come back on Tuesday for an exit interview with her supervisor, Dr. Stauss.

On impulse, she stopped at the door of one of the most challenging cases on the neurosurgery floor. The young man was on Dr. Stauss’s caseload, but she’d checked on him a few times when she occasionally covered for the senior physician.

She knocked and heard a welcoming voice respond. She’d not met any of Kyle Nichols’s family on previous visits, but this time a tired-looking middle-aged man with an interested smile rose to greet her. A somewhat younger woman remained seated next to the boy’s bed.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Elder,” Rene said, looking back and forth between the two adults. “I’ve checked in on your son several times before, but we haven’t met.”

“Dr. Elder, good to meet you. I’m Owen Nichols, Kyle’s uncle,” the man said, shaking Rene’s extended hand. “This is Kyle’s mother, Kristen.”

The woman nodded to Rene and continued massaging the boy’s hand.

“I was just reading him the news about last night’s Mariners game,” Mr. Nichols continued.

“I understand he’s quite the baseball fan,” Rene said. The family had decorated the room with posters of ballplayers and other paraphernalia, which almost succeeded in making the room appropriate for a teenaged boy.

Almost. The tubes and lines attached to the boy’s frame and the constant sound of the ventilator quickly dispelled that illusion.

“More than a fan. He’s a star player, a big-league prospect,” Nichols said with a smile that faded slightly as he looked down at the emaciated form lying motionless before them.

Rene tried to sound supportive. “How exciting.” Dr. Stauss had worked a miracle to save the boy’s life, but nevertheless, his rare condition would prove devastating.

“I just stopped in to say goodbye, Kyle,” she said, turning to the inert young man in the bed. “Today is my last day. I’m moving on to pursue independent research. I wish you and your family all the best.”

“Thanks very much, Doctor.” The mother answered in place of her mute son. “We’re deeply grateful to everyone for saving his life and for all the care he’s received. I’m so glad we got to meet you before you left.”

Stauss had spoken of the mother during case conferences, remarking on her strength and dedication. He hadn’t mentioned this uncle, but the man’s love was evident in the way he watched the boy, attentive and kind.

“Of course, Ms. Nichols. Kyle’s a very resilient young man. His own body did the hardest work to pull him through,” Rene said.

“Tomorrow we have an appointment with Dr. Stauss to get an update on Kyle’s prognosis.” Mr. Nichols added this with anxiety creeping into his voice.

Rene nodded, well aware of the planned meeting. Concealing her sorrow, she conjured a smile. “Good luck, young man.”

Excerpted from OF ONE MIND by JB Maerten. Copyright © 2024 by JB Maerten. Excerpted by permission of Serious Wonder Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.