No one had to tell her the idyll was over and the dream was done.

It was there, evident in every brisk, abrupt movement of packing, of checking every final detail for departure. They’d eaten a quick, light breakfast, this little unrelated group drawn together as a purported family for so few hours. Then, they’d straightened up what was necessary and climbed into the limo arranged for transport.

Nothing was said about last night’s incredible occurrence, either at the table or in the limo’s rear seat a little later; no word made reference to what had happened, for good or bad. It was, in truth, as if completely ignoring facts might make them cease to be true.

Hallie avoided Karim’s gaze, just as he did hers.

Embarrassment? Doubt? Regret?

Whatever the reason, a sense of discomfort lay between them. And neither time nor privacy could be made available, from here on out.

During the entire return trip, from auto to jet to auto again, and home, Hallie felt disconnected from what was going on around her. A little tense, a little headachy, a little jittery under the skin, as if she were falling ill with a case of flu. It came as a positive relief when, once parked in front of her apartment building, she and Aaron could escape with their baggage inside.

Karim, standing respectfully and silently at the opened car door, handed her a sealed envelope just as she prepared to flee.

“As promised,” he said.

She opened it to find a check, made out neatly in her name, for a total amount of $20,000. Earlier, at the country retreat, she had returned the exquisite set of engagement and wedding rings to him, contained safely inside their original velvet box. At the same time, he had insisted she keep the diamond necklace and earrings.

Not a bad haul, for some three days’ or so worth of work.

Then why was she feeling so empty and lost, a mere husk of herself?

Hallie thanked the Sheikh, said an awkward goodbye, unsure of what more to say. This was it. The fantasy weekend was, officially, over.

Now back in her own home, Hallie realized she needed some downtime. She needed to let her tight nerves stretch out once more, to relax in her own surroundings with a nice glass of iced tea and the soothing, reassuring voice of her mother.

“Hi, Mom, we’re back home, safe and sound. Yes, yes, I know. The whole thing was a bit mysterious. It was…well, sort of a business thing.”

“Business? Hallie, what kind of—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it later, Mom. Maybe dinner this week, if I get off shift at the hospital on time one of these days?”

Scrunching down a little more comfortably into the couch, Hallie laughed. No one could have noticed a dearth of spirit in that laugh, or a depression that needed lifting.

She was barefoot, in an old pair of pajamas, and, oh, it was good to be home! Wasn’t that the motif of so many schmaltzy movies? Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home. But weeks of accumulated mail lay on the hall table; unpacking and putting away still needed to be done; this chore and that chore had to be taken care of before her work shift started early tomorrow.

“Dinner would be great, honey. And Aaron is okay?”

“He’s fine. But he’s exhausted; he was very busy while we were gone, and he’ll probably be cranky when he wakes up.”

“Well, that’s just fine. We’ll take him any way we can get him, won’t we?”

Across the few miles that separated her home from Hallie’s apartment, Joanne’s voice held a contented smile.

“Yup. He’s definitely an important member. And how is Dad doing today?”

For a few minutes the discussion continued, with her father’s deterioration of health taking precedence. They were a close-knit family, and Hallie knew she would have been in desperate straits were it not for her parents’ routine physical and occasional financial support.

“And you’re all right, Mom?”

“Oh, I’m chuggin’ along, honey. Tomorrow is supposed to be such a nice day; I think Aaron and I will make a trip to the zoo. I got some coupons in the mail—he goes for free, and a super senior discount for me. At least there’s some perks to being old, huh?”

“He’ll love that. Something different, and he takes in so much, now. I swear, when I read his books to him, he really understands.” Hallie’s words were full of satisfaction—the proud mother for the child, developing as he should. “Well, I’d better start cleaning up around here. See you in the morning.”

“I’ll be here. Love you.”

Even while she unzipped cases to put away clean outfits and dirty laundry, Hallie found herself stopping in the middle of tasks, distracted. Her hands stilled; her thoughts raced around in crazy circles like a hamster in its wheel. Such a mixture of emotions churning in her middle. Changing from one to the other, at dizzying speed—disappointment, elation, wistfulness, dejection, puzzlement.

She had spent the night in Karim’s arms. They had made love in that fire-lit family room that welcomed them as if it were some great cocoon of romance. Once, then again, joining at first in slow, courting moves, only to be guided by excitement and rapture.

Had it all just been a dream?

Plopping down on her couch once again, she retrieved her cellphone from the coffee table and punched in the telephone number Karim had given her. The offices of Al Ahsan Enterprises, played only a recorded message asking the caller to try again later. The number of his penthouse at Wilshire Reef, here in Philadelphia. Again, a recorded message. The number of his private cell. Another recorded message.

Her vision blurred with tears.

What was the point? His silence during the return trip—and now, when he could not be reached, or would not answer, for whatever reason—told her all she needed to know. She had served her purpose. She had provided the cover he needed; she had even willingly, joyously, slept with him. He had used her, he had paid her, and he was finished with her.

There were many descriptions for behavior or people like that.

They were not flattering.

Sunday night, at the rented country estate, had seemed like hours spent in paradise, in some secluded haven, despite the inevitable threat of a rejoining to civilization that loomed just over the horizon.

Monday night, by comparison, meant more restless time spent in a bed that was hot and uncomfortable, its mattress lumpy, its surroundings cramped and straitened, its occupant racked by worrisome thoughts.

Finally, giving up any attempt to sleep, Hallie left Aaron in his crib—at least he was slumbering like an angel!—and parked herself in front of the television to watch something inane and uninspiring.

Consequently, she looked and felt exhausted when it was time to start her routine Tuesday morning. A quick shower and uniform, breakfast and clothing for Aaron, all daily supplies loaded, and out the door they could go.

“Hallie, honey, are you all right?” Her mother greeted them at the front door with obvious concern. “Here, give me the baby. What happened?”

“Nothing serious, Mom. Just pesky stuff running around in my head. You know how it goes.”

Distracted, Hallie was already unburdening herself of diaper bag, purse, and tote. Amazing how much the average baby needed. And the average baby’s parent, as well.

“Well…” Joanne’s tone and expression, as she held her grandchild and pored over her child, remained unconvinced.

“I’m okay, honest. Gotta run.” She stroked Aaron’s chubby cheek, and then her mother’s thinner one. “I’ll give you a call later on, when I can.”

Her ten-year-old car, having recently had its innards cleaned and oiled by the nearest garage, obligingly took her down streets and across intersections and into the parking lot at Cranston Memorial. Sunday’s rain storm in upstate New York had evidently hit here first, for the streets had been washed clean and the air, sweltering as it was, held that crystal clear quality.

“Hey, Hallie.” Anna Belinsky, helm of the ER’s front desk, greeted her as she walked in. “Lucky you, taking a couple days off. Vacation, huh?”

“Oh, sort of. It was great to get away, but now I’m back. Anything major going on?”

“Not much.” Yawning, Anna returned to a pile of charts she was working on. “This early, it’s quiet. But you know how it goes—a surprise every minute.”

“For sure. I’ll get settled and be right out.”

In the lounge, she stowed her personal belongings away in her locker, checked the condition of her flyaway hair (now pulled up into a ponytail), and poured a cup of coffee. The door swung in and another nurse joined her to plunk down for a few minutes’ rest in the uncomfortable vinyl chair.

“Back to work, huh?” he said gloomily, all the while struggling to keep his eyes open.

Nothing like stating the obvious.

Hallie smiled. “Uh-huh. I’m definitely back to work,” she affirmed. “How much longer is your shift, Josh?”

“Huh. Got another four hours to go. Dunno if I’ll make it.”

“Well, best of luck, bud. I’m gonna head out there; see you later.”

Once out in the general line of fire, Hallie began checking to see which injury/illness had been sent to which room, and what needed to be done to provide care. Suspected food poisoning in Room 312 (oh, joy); car accident victim, suffering minor injuries, in Room 323; child with bleeding lip and bruises (schoolyard scuffle) in 345.

Curtains opened and closed with a rattle of rod rings; voices rose and fell in consultation; footsteps moved past, pushing carts and carrying supplies.

Just another typical day in the ER. Things started off slow, but guaranteed to pick up. Cranston lay at an intersection of very busy streets, with a number of businesses fanning out from there. A quiet moment happened as rarely as a blue moon, and ought to be marked on the calendar as such.

At some point, in the middle of cleaning a wound in preparation for sterile bandages, someone walking past queried if Hallie would like to grab lunch in the break room.

“Oh my gosh. It’s that late already?” Hallie, with her head down to immediate duty, was aghast that so much time has passed. “Sure. Give me a few minutes, Nat.”

Eventually, she was able to slip away from the most pressing of demands. Her feet, in their well-padded clogs, were already hurting, and her back and upper shoulders were blazing with a dull fire. Not to mention the headache that aspirin had not yet relieved. Just a few of the detriments involved in working a non-stop shift.

“Hey, how was your vacation?” one of her coworkers, already biting into a PB&J, asked.

“It wasn’t strictly a vacation,” Hallie said, slightly affronted. “Just a few days off.”

“Hell, Lord knows you deserve that, sweetheart,” was Tony’s unbiased opinion. “We all do. Did ya go somewhere?”

“Uh—well, out of town. With a friend.”

“A friend?” Oohs and aahs sounded from the assembled crew, along with some knowing winks. “Well, get you, girl. Shackin’ up, huh? Had you some playtime?”

Deeply flushed, she chose not to answer but to change the subject, instead. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

Breaks and mealtimes were rarely marked into anyone’s schedule as a cold, hard fact. Too much was always going on, and accidents were called accidents for a reason. They were not planned, and they happened at the absolute worst time for everyone. While you worked your shift, you were expected to be on call, no matter the time.

“Geez, Hallie, you signed up for an extra eight hours tonight?” Tony, taking a great gulp from his bottle of iced tea, was perplexed. “You are really a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

Balling up the remains of her lunch to put into a recycling bin, she shrugged. “Well, Anna asked me if I could, since a couple of people are out sick. And she sort of guilted me into it…”

Tony laughed.

“Yeah, she’s good at that. Well, lemme know if you need some help. There’s a home game at the stadium tonight, so there’ll be lots of traffic, and accidents, and people gettin’ sick on too much beer and too many unwatched kids. Mark my words: we’re gonna get slammed.”

Exchanging a glance with one of the other LPNs, Hallie smiled.

“Okay, Tony, I’ll certainly mark your words.”

“Leaving the kiddo at your mom’s, then?” Natalie asked, as she stood and shoved her chair into place.

“Yes, I already called to check. She’s fine with it. She didn’t see Aaron for several days, so it’s like she’s been deprived for too long. Kinda goes into withdrawal.”

The rest of the afternoon, and part of the evening, zipped by without anyone even noticing the movement of the clock from one hour to the next. Another vehicle accident—this one involving a school bus loaded with forty students and six adults returning from a field trip—brought all hands on deck. Many minor injuries needed to be treated; those cases more severe were rushed immediately to trauma and special care, with several surgeons being called down to the main floor for assistance.

Everyone was scrambling. The scene appeared to be chaotic, yet was surprisingly controlled. Each staff member—doctors, nurses, aides, clerical, even janitorial—knew what to do. And did it. Or sought someone with more experience and authority to take over.

Once the crisis was contained, once patients were settled or transported or released, the team could grab a few breaths of relief and discuss some of the ramifications. Charts needed to be updated, phone calls to families must be made, all the important details of people picking up the pieces of their lives again had to go on.

A few other people straggled in. There were the two homeless people, looking for a place to camp out in air-conditioning during a hot night. There was the alcoholic, a regular, unsure of where he was or what he wanted. There was a lady looking for her son, who might or might not have been brought to Cranston, who might or might not have been admitted. All those out and about, drawn in for care and compassion by the well-lighted sign blinking refuge above the entrance.

Hallie had returned to the front desk, where the stockpile of those waiting had been temporarily diminished, to check on the status of a young woman brought in who had collapsed at the curb.

“BP is closer to normal,” reported Anna, speaking over her shoulder where the phone receiver rested. On hold again, reaching out for information. “Dr. Nelson is seeing her now.”

Suddenly, the ambulance bay filled up with brilliant red flashes, reflecting around the walls, as the paramedics pulled in. A clatter of the gurney and voices rattling off statistics preceded the group into the hall.

“Male, early sixties. Suspected heart attack,” the lead EMT reported as the procession made a turn and swung toward home base. “Got him stable; pain is radiating. Wife’s coming along behind; someone’s driving her.”

Hallie, stethoscope already on and ready for business, moved forward.

“Curtain 2. I’m right behind you.”

There was the usual jockeying into position, and the huffed, “One, two, three!” as the patient was transferred from wheeled stretcher to bed. Always a matter of motility, and a problem of causing as little extra trauma as possible. An oxygen mask was already in place across the man’s mouth and nose, rendering speech difficult.

“Sir, can you hear me? Can you understand me?” Searching for a heartbeat, Hallie moved the instrument over his chest, still neatly dressed in a formal white pleated shirt. “Can you tell me where the pain is located?”

Abruptly, there was movement. The patient managed to pull himself up on one elbow to tear away the mask. His blue eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

“Hal—Hallie?”

She looked up and let out a gasp.

The patient in the bed was none other than Chip Griffin.