THE FOURTH HOUR
(Elena's POV)
Victor Cross was still standing at the end of the corridor when the operating doors stopped swinging.
He had his coat over one arm and both hands where I could see them. He didn't move when I walked at him.
"You're not here for her," I said.
"No."
"Then say what you came to say and get out of this building."
"I came to see if you'd let me stand here." He put his glasses on. "You did."
He walked past me to the elevator and didn't look back.
The waiting room was two floors down. No windows, no clock. I sat in it for six hours and turned one page of a magazine I never read.
At ten past ten, a nurse said they were halfway.
At ten past two, a surgeon came out in scrubs and said it out loud. It went as well as anyone could have hoped. She was in recovery.
