One lead panned out immediately. That afternoon, Noeline Momberg and her kids stopped by our hospital with free coffee and pastries for everyone. I generally don't drink coffee, but I washed my hands in the cramped medication room and scooped up what looked like a shiny donut hole.
"They're called zalabyas," Noeline told me, slapping Jaco's hands away from them. "We have to celebrate the fact that Papa's eyes are getting better."
"'Almost there,' right Mama? That's what Papa said." Fleur clapped her hands.
"Did the surgery go well, then?" I asked Noeline. I'd read that with penetrating injuries, like the metal in Frederik's right eye, only one fifth of patients ended up with better than 20/200 vision. Huge problem for a truck driver.
Noeline compressed her lips before she said, too loudly, "Coming along nicely. Every day is better. Please, have another zalabya."
I slipped one to Jaco, who split it with Fleur.
Samira entered the med room, surveyed the treats now displayed on the counter between the sink and ice dispenser, and poured herself a coffee. "They're also called loukmet el-qadi."
"I'll never remember that," I admitted, trying to act normal around her.
"It means ‘the judge’s food,’" said Samira, biting into one and smiling. "Thank you, madam. Medicine is a thankless job. And many of us are hungry."
Thankless? Hungry? In addition to getting beaten up and having your nose or jaw broken? The day just kept getting better.
I followed the Momberg family out of the med room while more doctors and nurses flocked toward the food. "Noeline, if there's anything we can do, please let us know. Don't feel like you need to bring us anything—"
"It's all from Ms. Becker. She asked us to bring it. She was supposed to meet us here." Noeline squirted hand sanitizer on Fleur and Jaco's hands.
"Ms. Becker?" I repeated. So they had become friends after all.
"I do apologize for my tardiness," called Gizelda Becker, crossing toward us from the nursing station. "How abominable of me to let you carry everything when you have two little children."
"You have so many things on your plate," said Noeline, although her lips seemed to turn down at the corners in agreement. "I have to get back to my husband now, but Jaco wanted to say hello to Dr. Tucker first."
The children waved and chewed, and even the exhausted staff smiled at their little faces. This wasn't a pediatric hospital, so cuteness made a welcome change.
Ms. Becker said, "I should let you get back to your work, and I do want to see Dr. Tucker."
"Absolutely. You'll find him on the acute side. How are you doing?" I didn't want to intrude on her grief.
She shook her head, her eyes unfocused. "I haven't had time to dwell on it. My brother keeps me hopping now that he's the only elephant."
I blinked at her.
"I'm sorry, I've been running everywhere since Wednesday. I'm not making sense." She passed a hand over her eyes. "We have a saying. 'When two elephants meet on a narrow bridge, they get nowhere until one of them backs down or lies down.'"
"I see." I did, actually. The bridge wouldn't magically expand for two pachyderms. One elephant had to go. Now that Phillip Becker had shuffled off this mortal coil, Luke would take over the bridge and boss his sister around.
"Before you go." My face flared red, but I pressed onward. "I heard that you and your father spoke often, and sometimes you would take notes."
"Where did you hear that?" She eyed me in a way that reminded me of a bald eagle: attentive, almost piercing.
I met her gaze, trying not to resemble a delicious herring or whatever eagles eat. "The other people on your tour group noticed your little red book."
She nodded slowly. "The Mombergs, of course. I see."
I willed the blush out of my cheeks. "Would you be willing to share your notes with us?"
"There's nothing in them. My father loved to talk, and he was accustomed to an audience, whether it was his secretary, some coworkers, or his family."
"Even so, Ms. Becker—"
"Gizelda, please."
My cheeks heated up even more. "Gizelda, sharing the notes could be a way of keeping your father's memory alive. I feel like I barely got to know him before he died. Sir William Osler said something like, 'Ask not what illness has the person, ask what person has the illness.'"
"Did he, now? Who is Sir William Osler?"
"He was a famous Canadian physician." I left out the dark side of Osler, namely "pimping." In medicine, that means questioning a learner to the point of ridicule. An observer wrote in 1916: Rounded with Osler today. Riddles house officers with questions. Like a Gatling gun. Welch says students call it ‘pimping.’ Delightful.
After a long moment, she shook her head. "The notes won't help you, Dr. Sze."
"Hope." I offered her my most charming smile.
Gizelda Becker gazed at me and pressed her lips together into a thin, bloodless line.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul …
Gizelda shook her head before her phone binged in her purse. She ignored it. "You're a very persistent girl. Woman. Person."
"Thank you." I tried to scrape the question mark out of my voice. This didn't sound promising, Emily Dickinson notwithstanding.
"I appreciate your help here. You tried to save my father's life, and I think you and Dr. Tucker mean well. I should tell you, however … " She paused. Her phone dinged again. She touched her purse, distracted.
I glanced at her purse myself. Who was trying to reach her? Probably Luke, but maybe it was the man with the cobra bag. C'mon, answer it. Let me see your lock screen.
Her fingers lingered on the zipper.
The phone started to ring with a loud, old school peal that reminded me of my grandma's house.
"I don't mind reading your notes, even if you think there's nothing in it." I raised my voice to be heard above the ring. "Sometimes it's comforting to share the words of your loved ones after they're gone."
She shook her head. "No, that's not it. You don't need to hear about Lord Carnarvon, or Osiris, or any of this."
"What about them?"
"Please, Dr. Sze. It's better for you, it's healthier—" She winced at her own phone's incessant bleating and walked away from me. She waved and called over her shoulder, "It's safer for you and Dr. Tucker to leave all of this alone. Please!"