Chapter 37 — At Least

_August 10, 1989, McKinley, Ohio_

{psc} "He's McKnight's now," Doctor Strong said. "Any next of kin?"

"Not that we know of," I replied.

"Wendy, death kit, please," Doctor Gibbs ordered.

"Al, Krista, stay with Wendy and observe," I said. "I'll check on our other patients. Kellie, with me, please."

The doctors filed out of the room, and first I went to check with Nate, who had the labs for Mr. Harrington. I quickly reviewed them and saw literally everything except his blood glucose and A1C were mid-range, but both the A1C and glucose were very low. I picked up the phone and called for an endocrinology consult, then asked Nate about the pregnancy test for Becky, which was negative.

"Nate, call for an orderly with a wheelchair for Ms. Matthews. I'll see her as soon as I speak to Mr. and Mrs. Harrington."

"On it!" Nate declared.

Kellie and I went into Exam 3 to see Mr. Harrington.

"I have your blood test results," I said. "Everything except your blood sugar is within normal ranges, and most of them are right at the midpoint. I've called for a doctor from Endocrinology to come down to do an exam and give us an opinion for the next steps."

"What do you think?"

"All we know right now is something appears to be causing your body to produce too much insulin. I'm not a specialist, so I don't want to speculate. I'll be here when the endocrinologist examines you and we'll discuss the possibilities. I'll be back in about two minutes, as I need to see another patient."

Kellie and I left and went to Exam 1.

"Good news," I said with a smile. "You aren't pregnant. An orderly will come with a wheelchair to take you to Radiology for x-rays, then someone from Orthopedics will come down to decide what to do next."

"You can't just pop it back in?"

"I _could_," I said. "But that could result in nerve damage or other complications. Let's see what the x-rays and the orthopedist have to say. OK?"

"OK."

We left and returned to Exam 3 just as Doctor Matt Keller, an endocrinology Resident, arrived and announced himself.

"Hi, Matt," I said, then reviewed my findings with him.

"Hi, Mr. Harrington," he said. "I'm Matt Keller from endocrinology. I'd like to examine you and then we'll discuss the next steps."

Mr. Harrington agreed and Matt began the exam.

"Doctor Mike?" Patty, a nursing student, called out from the door. "The family of the MI, the Noonans, is here. They're in the consultation room. His name was Jack."

"Thanks, Patty. Mr. Harrington, I need to speak to a patient's family. Doctor Keller will speak to you once he's done and fill me in."

I left the room and asked Patty for their names, then went to the consultation room.

"Hi Mrs. Noonan," I said. "I'm Doctor Mike Loucks. Would you have a seat, please?"

"How's my dad?" a teenage boy asked.

"Please sit and I'll explain."

They both sat down, and I did as well.

"Mrs. Noonan, your husband was brought in by the paramedics who were performing CPR. A team of doctors and nurses made every possible attempt and used every skill and ability in an attempt to revive him, but we were unable to do so, and he died."

"What?!" she gasped. "He's only forty-four!"

"My dad died?" the boy, who I guessed was about fourteen, asked.

"I'm sorry, yes. His heart was not beating when he was brought in, and we continued CPR, administered drugs, put him on a ventilator, and used several procedures, but to no avail. His heart simply wasn't pumping any blood."

"But how?" Mrs. Noonan asked. "He's so young!"

"An autopsy will determine what happened," I replied. "All I can say is that when the paramedics and firemen reached him, passers-by were performing CPR on him. I can take you to see him, if you like, or call a chaplain."

"We're Catholic," the young man said.

"I can call Father Clifton, if you like."

"He needs last rites," Mrs. Noonan said.

"OK. Stay here, please, and I'll make the call. Would you like to see your husband?"

"With our priest."

"OK."

I left the room and went to the clerk's desk, found the number for the rectory on the list, and dialed the number. A secretary answered and called Father Clifton to the phone.

"Father, it's Mike Loucks at Moore Memorial," I said. "I have two of your parishioners here who need you, and a need for last rites."

"Who?"

"Jack Noonan," I replied.

"Lord have mercy! What happened?"

"All I can say now is that his heart stopped and CPR and drugs didn't solve the problem."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Should I ask for you?"

"Yes."

We said 'goodbye', I hung up, then went to let the Noonans know Father Clifton was on his way. That accomplished, I went to the trauma room to let my students and Wendy know that I'd be bringing the family into the room in about twenty minutes, then went to see Becky. She wasn't in the room, and a check with Nate revealed that the orderly had arrived to take her for her x-rays.

"Are any of the walk-ins in immediate need?" I asked.

"No," Nate replied.

"OK. Then I'll be in the lounge. Let me know when Father Clifton arrives."

He acknowledged me and I went to the lounge, filled my mug with coffee, and sat down on the couch to relax for a few minutes before the priest arrived. About a minute later, Matt Keller came in.

"I'm going to admit Mr. Harrington," he said. "My money is on an insulinoma, as nothing in his history or symptoms indicates any of the other typical causes of hypoglycemia."

"OK. I'll have him sent up once I'm done with the family of the MI we lost. His priest is on the way."

"I don't envy you guys down here in trauma. I rarely have to even tell people they're terminal. I don't know how you do it."

"And I don't know how pediatric oncology does it."

"People qualified for instant sainthood," Matt said, then left.

Just over ten minutes later, Nate ushered Father Clifton into the lounge.

"How are you, Deacon?" Father Clifton asked.

"We don't retain titles when we voluntarily leave our clerical office," I replied.

"Forgive me," he said. "I'd completely forgotten that you had asked to be laicized. What can you tell me about Jack Noonan?"

"Not much. He was brought into the ED in full arrest, and never had a heartbeat. According to the paramedics, he was found on the sidewalk, and citizens were performing CPR. The paramedics continued that, gave him epinephrine, and brought him in. We put him on a ventilator, continued CPR, and tried more drugs. The monitor showed PEA — Pulseless Electrical Activity — which is not a shockable rhythm, and then asystole."

"Any idea what might have caused it?"

"No, and I can't speculate. Doctor McKnight will perform an autopsy and let the family know."

"OK. I've done these before. I assume the usual protocol with the breathing tube and other medical devices still in place, and covered with a white sheet?"

"Yes. I'll take you to Mrs. Noonan and her son, though I don't know his name."

"John, same as his dad, though his dad usually went by Jack."

We left the lounge and walked to the consultation room where the Noonans were waiting. Father Clifton greeted them and they spoke for a minute before he turned to say that they were ready. I explained what they'd see, then led them to the trauma room where Wendy and my students were waiting.

"Krista, Al, please step out; Mrs. Noonan, stay as long as you like. Nurse Wendy will stay with you."

"Thanks, Doctor," she said.

My students and I stepped out into the corridor.

"Al, Mr. Harrington is being admitted to Endocrinology. Call for an orderly and escort him there, then come find us. Krista, grab the next walk-in chart, please."

She was about to do that when I saw an orderly pushing Becky Matthews into the ED following her x-rays. Krista and I followed them into the exam room, and I let Becky know that as soon as I heard from Radiology, I'd have someone from Ortho come down to examine her.

The rest of the morning was busy, I assisted Doctor Jackson from Ortho in reducing Becky's shoulder, and handled a number of walk-in cases. At noon, I was able to get away to have lunch with Clarissa and Sophia.

"How's your Fourth Year?" Clarissa asked.

"Well, she read her cardiology textbook and passed my basic EKG quiz, so there is that, but Kylie spoke to her and…Sophia, this is confidential."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, "As if I didn't know that!"

"It had to be said," Clarissa interjected. "Go on, Mike."

"Kylie said Krista felt I was sidelining her and agreed that Krista isn't as smart as she thinks she is. Kylie doesn't think Krista is salvageable."

"Which, of course, you took as a challenge."

"I have to try. I honestly don't care if she likes me or not, or thinks I'm treating her badly. What matters is if she's willing to learn. She showed me one thing, and that's a start."

"Even with Leila's negative comments?"

"Even with those, though I will heed her advice to not leave Krista alone with a patient. I'll use nurses and Al, or be with her myself. I think her next test is intubation. But I have to find the right opportunity."

"Someone who needs it, but is not so critical that two failed attempts won't kill them."

"Exactly."

"What do I need to do to get that procedure, Mike?" Sophia asked, smiling and batting her eyes.

"Ask my WIFE that question in that way!" I chuckled. "If you survive, you can do it!"

Clarissa and Sophia both laughed.

"In all seriousness," I continued. "I'd have trusted you to do it as a Third Year."

"The difference between us and Mike," Clarissa said, "is he gets off on those adrenaline dumps!"

"I wouldn't go THAT far," I chuckled. "But I do thrive on them. Pretty much a requirement for a trauma doc. And the long-term exposure will help with surgery, because I won't have adrenaline dumps when the inevitable happens and the bovine excrement hits the air circulation device."

"Any interesting cases this morning?" Clarissa asked.

"Not really. We were busy with Intern scut — walk-ins, but we also had an MI who was brought in receiving CPR."

"Not one of the five percent who make it out of the ED?"

"Correct. PEA then asystole. Nothing we did changed a damned thing. That said, I have to commend his fellow citizens who were performing CPR when the paramedics arrived, even if it was ultimately fruitless. Young guy, though, with a fourteen-year-old kid. I turned them over to Father Clifton."

"Any updates on the hearing next week?"

"No. The only thing that would change at this point is if he accepted a suspension without contesting it, which I can't imagine he would, because his license is really at risk. A reprimand is most likely, and a one-year suspension would be extreme, based on historical precedent. Maybe we'll get lucky, but I'm not holding my breath. That said, at least we do have a shot at the suspension, even if the odds are long.

"On a completely different topic, I heard that Deputy Turner challenged Emmy to a shooting competition. They're going to an outdoor range in Zanesville, but the date isn't set. They're waiting on approval from the two Sheriffs, which I suspect will involve significant wagering!"

"Bet it all on Emmy to win, right?" Clarissa asked.

"I wouldn't bet against her, that's for sure. Her dad, «мудак» that he is, taught her to shoot when she was five, and she's been a crack shot since age twelve."

"Back to using Russian again, Mike?" Sophia asked.

"Mike won't call someone an 'asshole' in English," Clarissa smirked. "Even if they are."

"And Len Nelson is certainly the poster child for that word," I said.

"Speaking of assholes, how is Rosenbaum's 'other woman'?"

"Several whacks on the nose with a rolled up chart appear to have done the trick with Doctor Mastriano," I replied. "She's not giving me any grief, and we've worked together on several patients."

We finished our lunches, and each headed back to our services. I was looking forward to being able to teach Sophia, but that was still about three weeks away. During the afternoon, I handled walk-ins with Al as Krista was at the triage desk. I was also looking forward to September 1st when nurses would take over intake completely.

At 6:00pm, Krista and Al went off shift and Serenity and Walt came on, and a few minutes later, I had dinner with Doctor Javadi and Doctor Vega, as Clarissa was busy with a patient who was, in Medicine terms, 'circling the drain' and they weren't quite sure why.

We handled walk-ins and two paramedic runs for MVAs, but things quieted down just before midnight, when I went to the on-call room to sack out, along with Doctor Varma.

_August 11, 1989, Circleville, Ohio_

"How was your shift?" Kris asked when I arrived home on Friday evening.

We were immediately interrupted by our toddler demanding to be picked up.

"Hi, Rachel!" I said.

She hugged me and gave me a slobbery kiss on the check, then I answered my wife's question.

"I actually managed to sleep for two hours around midnight, then about ninety minutes starting at 4:00am. My students and I only lost one patient, but he was basically dead when he got to us. How about your day?"

"Going to class, doing homework, and, of course, rescuing Rachel from her Fridays with my sister!"

I laughed, "That's what I said to Lyudmila on Wednesday!"

"I know! She told me! I also hear that her friend Cheryl thinks you're a 'hunk'!"

"And your little sister made sure Cheryl knew I was taken, though, of course, had to add that it wasn't by the 'better sister'. Speaking of that, did you know Lyudmila is teaching Rachel to speak French?"

"My sister is a subversive!" Kris declared. "At least to YOU!"

"I might have noticed!" I chuckled. "She's treating me in ways similar to how Liz treated me, though with a French flair."

"«J'ai faim, papa!»" Rachel declared.

"She's hungry," Kris translated.

"Your sister and I are going to have words!"

Kris laughed, "You do realize she's doing that to tease you, right?"

"Yes, of course," I replied. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she has a crush."

"She does, but it's innocent. Her friend Cheryl, on the other hand, has one that is NOT."

"I have all the women I need in my life already! You, Rachel, Clarissa, and Loretta!"

"So we'll have a baby boy?" Kris asked.

"NO BROTHERS!" Rachel said firmly.

"You've made that point before, young lady, but it's not up to you!"

My daughter pouted, then gave me the usual look she had when she didn't appreciate being corrected.

"Dinner is ready, Mike. Shall we eat?"

"Sounds good."

"I take it from what you said we'll go to bed at a normal time?"

"Yes."

"And make love?"

"«Absolutement!»" I replied, causing her to groan then laugh at my terrible pronunciation.

_August 13, 1989, Loveland, Ohio_

Saturday had been typical, with band practice, grocery shopping, and a stop at the record store before I'd had my Saturday shift at Moore Memorial. Now, on Sunday morning, we were at Saint George in Loveland.

"How are you, Michael?" I asked my godson who I'd helped deliver nearly two years previous.

"Happy!" he said. "Zoo today after church!"

"That sounds like fun. What animal is your favorite?"

"Giraffe!" he exclaimed.

"Great! Sheila, how are you?"

"Pretty good. Do you know Jeremy?"

"I do not," I said, then extended my hand to the man next to Sheila. "Mike Loucks."

"Jeremy Mains," he replied. "Catechumen. You're a doctor, right?"

"Yes. This is my wife, Kris, and our daughter, Rachel."

"Daddy? Angie?" my daughter asked, spotting Angie walk into the church.

"Go ahead," I said.

I watched as Rachel hurried over to Angie as fast as her little legs would carry her. Rachel reached up and Angie picked her up, then she and her mom made her way over to us.

"Hi, Mike," Angie said.

"Hi, Ang. How are you?"

"I'm OK," she replied, a beat slow, as usual. "I'm happy to see you."

"And I'm happy to see you, too. How is Aikido?"

"I go three times a week. Are you going to your dojo?"

"No. I have thirty-six-hour shifts, so there simply isn't time."

"That's unconscionable!" Mrs. Stephens protested.

"I don't disagree, and in fact, we'll have slightly reduced hours starting next month because of an incident in New York. I can tell you more at lunch because the bells are ringing, so it's time for Matins."

We all went into the nave, lit our usual candles, and then I put Michael down on the floor and Angie did the same with Rachel. The two of them went over to where two other toddlers were sitting and plopped down with them, while we adults stood in a small cluster. At Eucharist, as was traditional, I took Michael forward, fulfilling one duty of a godparent. I'd been somewhat lax so far, though I had sent him a card and gift for his name day.

When the services ended, about three-and-a-half hours after they'd begun, we joined the rest of the congregation in the parish hall for lunch.

"Michael and Rachel get along really well," Sheila observed. "You never know…"

"Actually, that's canonically prohibited," I said. "Because Michael is my godson, Rachel is his spiritual sister, so marriage is prohibited by the canons."

"You're joking!" Jeremy exclaimed.

"No, he's right," Kris interjected. "It has to do with the obligations and duties of the godparent. He is, spiritually, a father to Michael, even if not biologically. In a way, not all that different from my relationship with Rachel from a legal point of view."

"So much for THAT idea," Sheila groused.

"Is it OK to ask how you came to be his godfather?" Mrs. Stephens asked.

"Somebody had the world's longest labor and needed attention from a lowly med student!" I chuckled. "My godson was decidedly not interested in being born!"

"TELL me about it!" Sheila said, shaking her head.

"You helped deliver Michael?" Angie asked.

"I was there," I replied. "But that was before I was a doctor. I helped with monitoring Michael while he was in Sheila's womb, and making sure Sheila was doing OK."

"Do you ever deliver babies?" Angie asked.

"No, and I am very, very happy about that! I have enough excitement in the emergency room without that."

"Well, now I have to find another suitable girl for Michael!" Sheila declared.

"Well, my adopted sister, Elaine, has a daughter named April, who was born right around the same time as Michael and Rachel. They're at Holy Transfiguration."

"Adopted sister?" Mrs. Stephens asked.

"Yes. My mom and Stefan took Elaine in as a foster child and decided to adopt. Elaine was pregnant at fourteen and decided to keep the baby."

"Fourteen?!" Mrs. Stephens gasped.

"It happens," I said.

"What about the baby's father?"

"Not in the picture."

"Same here," Sheila said. "Though I was over eighteen."

Both April's biological dad and Michael's biological dad were in prison. April's for aggravated criminal sexual assault, and Michael's for drug offenses.

"Hi, Michael," Father Stephen said, coming over to the table. "How are you and your family?"

"Father, bless!" I said, turning up my palms for a blessing, which he gave. "We're fine, thank you. As you can see, Rachel is growing like weed!"

"We have a small pack of toddlers, which I'm sure you saw in the nave."

"Six toddlers all sitting quietly together is both beautiful and frightening!" Sheila exclaimed.

"Terrorists and toddlers," I chuckled.

Everyone except Jeremy laughed because they'd heard me say that on more than on occasion.

"Mike likes to ask the difference between terrorists and toddlers," Father Stephen said for Jeremy's benefit. "With the distinction being you can negotiate with terrorists!"

Jeremy laughed, "Having been on the receiving end of Michael's demands, I can't argue with that."

"Daddy!" Rachel exclaimed. "Walk!"

"Speaking of that…" I chuckled, then turned to my daughter "Let me finish my lunch, and we'll walk."

"Walk! Now!"

"For that response, young lady, you'll sit for ten minutes and not move," I said firmly.

"NO!"

"Wow," Father Stephen said, quietly. "I think we know where that fiery temperament originated."

"It's absolutely a Kozlov trait," I replied. "Though that information has not yet been conveyed. It'll be a few years, most likely."

"Elizaveta was that volatile?" Sheila asked.

"You have NO idea!" I chuckled. "The petulant toddler next to me put her hands on her hips the other day and I had flashbacks. But the only mom she knows is Kris, and communicating the information has to be done carefully."

"Not on my account," Kris said. "But for our daughter's sake, so she's neither confused nor does she ever feel guilty because of the circumstances."

"So sad," Angie interjected.

"I'm missing something, obviously," Jeremy said.

"I'll fill you in later," Sheila said.

We finished eating, but I made Rachel wait the full ten minutes before we bade everyone goodbye and left the temple. Kris, Rachel, and I walked hand-in-hand, with our daughter between Kris and me. When we finished our twenty-minute walk, I changed Rachel's diaper, and we left the church to stop by my dad's house for a brief visit on our way back to Circleville.

_August 16, 1989, McKinley, Ohio_

On Wednesday, I left Rachel with Anna and Yulia and drove to Frisch's to meet Father Nicholas. We greeted each other, I sought his blessing, and we were seated.

"Were you able to attend the Vesperal Divine Liturgy for the Dormition on Monday evening?" Father Nicholas asked.

"No. I was on shift from 6:00am Monday to 6:00pm yesterday. Kris and Rachael went to the Cathedral with her parents and sister. But that was to be expected."

"Yes, of course, I was simply asking, as I don't see you very often now."

"Without belaboring the point, worshiping at Holy Transfiguration was no longer spiritually healthy for me."

"And you blame me for that," he said.

"I'd put the blame on whatever configuration of genes created the vascular defect that killed Elizaveta. Everything else flowed from there. That doesn't relieve either of us of our responsibility for our actions, but neither of us is to blame."

"Do you drive your instructors as mad as you have your spiritual fathers?"

"I am nothing if not consistent!"

"I will give you that. And persistent, too."

I smirked, "I want to be nothing if not persistent!"

"What did I just miss?" Father Nicholas asked.

"A line from one of the dumber _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ episodes - 'Samaritan Snare'. A spacefaring race that has limited intelligence is great at using technology. I found the entire episode offensive and insulting. But I derailed the conversation. Sorry."

"How do your mentors at the hospital deal with you?"

"With a rolled-up newspaper," I chuckled. "I get my nose whacked and told to behave. I usually do."

"Because you can't simply walk away."

"May I be myself in answering that question?"

"Could I stop you?"

"Yes. If you say 'no', I'll use a different line of reasoning."

"And, of course, you know me well enough that I want to hear what _The Rudder_ has to say!"

I chuckled, "I have read _Pedalion_ by Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain."

"Of course you have. You're also probably the only non-monastic in the diocese who has read _The Philokalia_, and understands it. So?"

"I have not 'run away' in any canonical sense, as the believer is bound to his bishop, not to a local parish, and for the laity, they may, under the canons choose any church they wish."

"You were always very good at finding the loopholes. You know the flaw with that argument, I'm sure."

"That when those canons were written, the vast majority of faithful attended the only church in their city, and thus, changing churches meant changing bishops, of necessity. Our mobility in the modern age has also changed the accessibility of more distant churches, in that I can cover a day's ride by horseback in under an hour by car. But, to counter your argument, our bishops do not limit the laity from moving to a new parish unless the goal is to escape discipline, but that would usually involve the layman changing bishops, as changing parishes wouldn't actually escape.

"And the lay/clergy distinction is actually at the heart of our disagreement about Ghost — Doctor Greg Casper. You and I both know what I told him was accurate, but I could only say it as a layman. Had I been clergy at the time, I would have been required to defer to you, and not even bring it up to him. I know you disagree with my thinking on the matter, and I understand, but in my role as physician, I give my patients all their options and help them decide. I honestly think you might have convinced him had you presented it as an option rather than a compulsion."

The waitress came and took our orders, which were salads for both of us, given it was a Wednesday.

"Do you second guess your mentors at the hospital?"

"Absolutely. Not only is that accepted, but it's also expected, so long as it's done in private. And, before you ask, if there are treatment options available that have not been discussed, I have an obligation to present them to any patient under my care. If they are under the care of another physician, then I take it to an Attending and they decide what to do. But that's a relationship similar to clergy and a bishop. If I were practicing independently and someone came to me for a second opinion, I have zero obligation to affirm the finding of the primary physician."

"I'm tempted to say you should have been a lawyer, but I believe your calling is the healing arts."

"Canon lawyer, maybe," I replied. "Our justice system, such as it is, is too much «akriveia» and too little «ekonomia»."

"You feel it's too strict?"

"I feel the penalties meted out often do not fit the crime."

"Speaking of that, and going further down the rabbit hole, how have your visits with Lee's killer been?"

"I believe we're developing a relationship. I wouldn't call it a friendship, but it might turn into one. I'm the only person who visits him. His ex-wife, son, and daughter have basically declared him an unperson, which actually fits his view of himself. Murdering Lee means he is not one of the Elect, and as such, is condemned to everlasting suffering in Hell. Perhaps, over time, he'll see God's love through my actions, and understand he can repent and turn back to God."

"Do you pray with him?"

"Attempting to do so would be foolish. I'm careful to limit my references to Scripture or theology. He's not ready to hear them, and may never be. But, thankfully, he was given life without parole and not the death penalty, so there is plenty of time."

"Back to the main topic, may I say I find you very frustrating."

"You aren't the only one, but it's also the case that I found you very frustrating. Rather than ask to meet me outside the temple, you, on multiple occasions, confronted me when I was trying to worship."

"His Grace took me to the woodshed over that, and I owe you an apology."

"I accept and owe you one for walking out."

"Also accepted."

"You know, the more I think about the question of blame, there's more than just the congenital defect that ended Elizaveta's life. I'm reasonably certain much of it traces back to Bishop ARKADY."

"Sadly, knowing what we know now, is that any surprise? He profaned the office of bishop in many ways, and his spiritual judgment was poor, and his personal conduct worse."

"I agree," I said. "but I feel compelled to point out that had he not proposed my ordination, I would never have married Elizaveta and I wouldn't have Rachel, and despite the tragedy surrounding Rachel's birth, I can't imagine a world without her."

The waitress brought our salads, Father Nicholas said the blessing, and we began to eat.

"At the risk of sounding like my grandmother, are you and Kris still planning children sooner rather than later?"

"Yes. Much to Rachel's annoyance, we intend to give her a brother or sister about this time next year. Actually, she'll accept a sister; a brother is a non-starter because she finds little Viktor to be annoying."

"He reminds me very much of Joe when he was that age."

"I made a similar comment. Hopefully Geno can exert a positive influence on him, though Geno and Joe both had the same dad, so who knows?"

"It's interesting, because that defies the nature/nurture argument, as they both are sons of Viktor and Yulia, and were both raised in the same environment, along with Elizaveta."

"Middle child syndrome," I said. "Elizaveta and Geno were very much alike, albeit with the differences traditionally found between Orthodox men and women."

"Have you said anything to Rachel as yet?"

"No, though I suspect Yulia has; in the interest of peace, I'm not going to say anything unless she says something in front of me, or Rachel says something. I know Viktor has inveighed on Yulia to let it go, but I believe you know how effective that might be."

"I do."

"The extra set of grandparents won't tip Rachel off, though, given my mom and dad both remarried, so she has two sets on my side. It'll be when she realizes that neither Kris nor I are related to Yulia and Viktor that Rachel could figure out that something had happened, and eventually piece together the icon of Elizaveta and the small framed photo with a black ribbon we recently added to our icon corner."

"Everything is good between you and Kris?"

"Yes. It's a very different relationship from the one I had with Elizaveta, but she's exactly who Rachel and I needed."

"All things being equal, you exercised good judgment in your choice of spouses. No shrinking violets for you."

"Somebody has to keep me in line! And Kris has reinforcements in a certain daughter who reminds me in so many ways of her biological mom."

"Temperament?"

"The worst was hands on her hips and the identical look Elizaveta would use when she disapproved of something I had said or done."

"How are you handling the 26th?"

"I have a shift that day, so we won't be able to attend the memorial service. We're having a party for Rachel on Sunday with her friends and their parents. Kris, Rachel, and I will celebrate at brunch on Saturday because I have a shift that begins at noon. I let Viktor know that I'm not going to be able to make the memorial service. I'll stop by the churchyard on my way home from the hospital on Friday night and say the abbreviated prayers for the departed."

"You know you're welcome at Holy Transfiguration at any time."

"I do, but at this point, I believe being at the Cathedral is better for me and my family."

_August 18, 1989, McKinley, Ohio_

"I see you brought a chaperone!" Anicka teased when Kris, Rachel, and I walked into the room behind the stage before Code Blue's concert at Taft.

Fortunately, I'd managed two hours of sleep very early on Friday, so I wasn't completely wiped out from the thirty-six-hour shift.

"Somebody has to keep Mike out of trouble!" Milena teased.

"ABI!" Rachel squealed.

"RACHEL!" Abi exclaimed.

"I'll take them," Milena said. "We'll sit in the back, away from the speakers."

"Rachel," I said. "Go with Aunt Milena and behave."

"Yes, Daddy!"

"Why do I feel as if she has her fingers crossed behind her back?" Sophia asked.

"Because of who her dad is!" Anicka replied.

"I love you all," I said flatly.

"Just how much did my husband misbehave in college?" Kris asked with a silly smile.

"As much as Clarissa would allow!" José declared.

"She did a pretty good job of keeping him in line," Anicka observed.

"She still does," I said pretending to be rueful.

Everyone laughed, Milena left with the girls, and my bandmates and I began setting up.

"Mike, is it OK to introduce you as 'Doctor Mike Loucks'? Robby asked.

"Sure. In fact, you can just say 'Doctor Mike' without my last name."

"No red scrubs?" Kris asked.

"No. We're 'Code Blue'," I said. "So I wear blue scrubs, which go along with José's Chelsea football jersey, Sticks' DePaul Blue Demons jersey, and Kim's blue outfit."

"You know, I never put that together because you wore blue scrubs except in the ICU. José, you know proper football?"

"Obviously! None of this silly hand-egg game where you can't use your feet to advance the ball!"

"He's not from here," Sticks said with a grin. "So what does he know?"

"EXCUSE ME?!" my wife exclaimed in what I knew was faux outrage.

"I think we might need a new drummer," I said to Kim.

"You might be right! Kris, could we save the Robespierre impersonation and give Sticks his 'haircut' AFTER the concert?"

"Let's all play nice, kids!" Sophia suggested.

"Mike," Kim said, "I meant to ask last Saturday, but how is your schedule for the next two months."

"We should have no conflicts," I replied. "I finish my Friday and Saturday shifts at 5:00pm."

"Excellent!"

"FIVE MINUTES!" the stage director called out.

Everyone calmed down and focused at that point, and we all took our places. Robby and Sophia had come up with a new bit of patter, given we'd done so many concerts at Taft, this one a riff on _Joe's Garage_ which was the song we had decided we'd play to open our act. From there, we played _Paradise by the Dashboard Light_, and another ten songs to complete our first set.

As was the norm, I played my balalaika between the first two sets, and José played _Piel Canela_ between the second and third sets. Because it wasn't a prom, we ended the third act with Kris and I singing _Endless Love_, and after the roaring applause, our encore consisted of _Dust in the Wind_, _I Melt with You_, and finally _Like a Surgeon_, which brought down the house.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Robby said into the mic. "Doctor Mike, lead vocals and backing guitar!"

"José Ochoa, lead guitar and backing vocals!" Sophia said into her mic.

"Kim Liang, keyboards and backing vocals!" Robby announced.

"Randy 'Sticks' Mason, drums and backing vocals!" Sophia added.

"Kari Hendricks on violin!" Robby announced.

He handed me the mic, and I added "And our special guest vocalist, my wife, Kris Korolyov!"

Everyone came to the center of the stage, held hands, and bowed to the crowd who were giving us a standing ovation.

"Bummer Sierra is here," I said to José as began packing up our instruments.

"Playboy José has retired and hung up his cleats! And he has NO complaints."

"Not if he knows what's good for him, anyway!" Kari teased.

We finished packing our instruments, then mingled with the assembled students, with Kris at my side and Rachel in my arms. José had Sierra on his arm, which mostly deflected the flirting, but even with Kris and Rachel with me, a few girls flirted. After about fifteen minutes, we left the building to walk to Doctor Blahnik's house for an after party with select music students.

"When you were single, I bet concerts were a serious opportunity to get into trouble," Kris said lightly.

"You'd easily win that bet," I replied.

"No details or numbers because it's really none of my business, but I'm going to surmise that you took advantage of that situation on at least one occasion."

"At least," I chuckled.