The Moon by Night by Gilbert Morris, Lynn Morris Page B

Francisco, that this shift was the one she liked best. And Dr. Batson hadn’t minded having the midnight shift, since he lived virtually on the hospital grounds. He made at least one round on his 10 P.M. to 8 A.M. shift—usually around eleven o’clock to consult with Cheney—but unless something was pressing, he then retired to his house, leaving instructions to call him if needed.
    â€œIs Dev here?” Cheney asked Victoria, idly looking at some of the papers on the littered desk. One was an invoice for a hundred syringes, another was a purchase order for plaster of paris. Victoria insisted on everything being done in writing.
    â€œWe came together, but right behind us a messenger boy came from Dr. Banckert at Bellevue,” Victoria answered. “They just had a brain come in—that was exactly how he worded it—from a man who’d had epileptic fits, and would Dev like to come and dissect with Dr. Banckert? I said he most certainly would not like to, but of course he went anyway.”
    â€œBut I have a brain too!” Cheney objected. “Dev promised to dissect mine with me!”
    Dr. Pettijohn and Victoria exchanged small amused glances. “Cheney, my dear, unless your brain has some exotic disease or malformation or is the brain of something interesting like a mermaid or a dragon, you have been trumped, I’m afraid,” Victoria said.
    â€œMine is just a plain brain,” Cheney said rather sulkily. “But I still wanted Dev to help me. I’m so ignorant of neurosurgery. Er—Dr. Pettijohn, I do have an interesting case in the morgue. I did most of the dissection last night, but I saved the brain and the feet for today. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”
    â€œThe feet?” he said hastily, gulping a little. Recovering, he said, “Thank you, Dr. Duvall, but Mrs. Buchanan and I still have much to do, and then I must be going. I’m going to a small party with some friends this evening, and afterward we are attending a lecture.”
    â€œOh?” Cheney asked brightly. She was a little unsure of herself with Dr. Pettijohn. His expression generally was one of attentiveness and interest with, perhaps, a little extra warmth when he looked at Victoria Buchanan, but when he was speaking with Cheney, he seemed to block himself off from square eye-to-eye communication. He just always looked completely blank to Cheney. No animosity, no interest, no good nor bad, but Cheney always found herself wondering what he was thinking behind the empty expression and bland blue eyes. “What is the lecture about?” she went on politely.
    â€œEr—the stars. Astronomy. Constellations and so on,” he answered rather shortly.
    â€œI see,” Cheney said uncomfortably. “Sounds very interesting.”
    Victoria asked eagerly, “Are we still having the board meeting tonight at Duvall Court? And then to the opera?”
    â€œYes, as long as my new patient, Mr. Melbourne, is doing well,” Cheney answered cautiously.
    â€œI checked him thoroughly this morning and then every hour,” Dr. Pettijohn said smoothly. “He seems to be doing fairly well, considering the traumatic nature of the injury.”
    â€œThank you,” Cheney said. “I’ve been very concerned about him, naturally. Anyway, Victoria, Mother did send word this morning warning me to make certain I didn’t let an interesting dissection or exotic new case keep me from coming. I asked Dr. White to stay this evening, and I’ve alerted Mr. Roe to keep James and John on call all night just in case they need to come fetch one of us.”
    Dr. Pettijohn cleared his throat delicately. “But, Dr. Duvall, Dr. White is just a student doctor. Perhaps it’s not such a good idea for all of the staff physicians to be out of pocket at once? I would be happy to—”
    â€œNo, no,” Cheney said hastily. “There’s no