Magic Hour

She parked in her spot and went inside, closing the door quietly behind her. On the second floor, she paused outside her office, looking at the sterling silver plaque on the door.

DR. JULIA CATES

She pressed the intercom button.

“Dr. Cates’s office,” came the scratchy-voiced reply through the speaker. “May I help you?”

“Hey, Gwen, it’s me.”

“Oh!”

There was a buzzing sound, then the door eased open with a click.

Julia took a deep breath and opened it. The office smelled of the fresh flowers that were delivered every Monday morning. Though there were fewer patients now, she’d never cut back on the flower order. It would have been a sign of defeat.

“Hello, Doctor,” said Gwen Connelly, her receptionist. “Congratulations on yesterday.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “Is Melissa here yet?”

“You have no appointments this week,” Gwen said gently. The compassion in her brown eyes was unnerving. “They all cancelled.”

“All of them? Even Marcus?”

“Did you see the L.A. Times today?”

“No. Why?”

Gwen pulled a newspaper out of the trash can and dropped it on the desk. The headline was DEAD WRONG. Beneath it was a photograph of Julia. “The Zunigas gave an interview after the hearing. They blamed you for all of it.”

Julia reached out for the wall to steady herself.

“I’m sure they’re just trying to get out from under the lawsuit. They said . . . you should have committed their daughter.”

“Oh.” The word slipped out on a breath.

Gwen stood up and came around the desk. She was a small, compact woman who had run this office as she’d run her home, with discipline and caring. Moving forward, she opened her arms. “You helped a lot of people. No one can take that from you.”

Julia sidestepped quickly. If she were touched right now, she’d fall apart. She might never put all the pieces back together.

Gwen stopped. “It’s not your fault.”

“Thank you. I . . . guess I’ll take a vacation.” She tried to smile. It felt heavy and wooden on her face. “I haven’t gone anywhere in years.”

“It?

??d be good for you.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll cancel the flowers and call the building manager,” Gwen said. “Let him know you’ll be gone for . . . a while.”

I’ll cancel the flowers.

Funny how that, of all of it, broke the skin. Julia held on to her composure by the thinnest strand as she moved Gwen toward the door and said good-bye.

Then, alone in the office, she sank to her knees on the expensive carpeting and bowed her head.

She wasn’t sure how long she knelt there in the darkness, listening to the strains of her own breathing and the beat of her heart.