Excerpt of Heart Surgeon, Hero...Husband? by Susan Carlisle

"A heart transplant? My baby's only two years old." Hannah Quinn stared at Dr. Scott McIntyre, the cardio-thoracic surgeon who sat across the conference room table from her. His familiar, Mediterranean Sea eyes were sympathetic, but his face remained somber.

The shock of seeing Scott again was only surpassed by the pain of his words. Her son was dying.

When had she slipped down the rabbit hole to this horror at Children's General Hospital? As if that weren't torment enough she now faced a mother's worst nightmare, and the news was being delivered by Atlanta, Georgia's supposedly best cardio-thoracic surgeon, a man who hurt her badly years before.

In the movies this would be called a twist of fate, horrible irony. But this wasn't some screenplay, this was her life. Her child who always had a smile. Her little boy who giggled when she kissed him behind his ear was in serious danger.

"He was doing fine. I was taking him for a scheduled checkup. Next thing I know his pediatrician has ordered an ambulance to bring us here." Hannah covered her mouth, damming the primal screams that threatened to escape. Moisture pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision of Scott… now Jake's doctor. "You have to be wrong."

He glanced at Andrea, the heart transplant coordinator sitting beside him, before he reached across the table as if to take Hannah's hand.

"Don't." She straightened. He withdrew.

That night eight years ago had started with a simple brush of his hand. She couldn't go there, wouldn't go there again or she'd fall apart. She had to hold it together until her world righted. And it would, it had to. "I knew that a valve replacement might be in his future sooner than I had hoped, but a heart transplant? Your diagnosis can't be correct."

Scott ran a hand through his wavy hair. The soft silky locks had gone from light to golden blond with age. His fingers threaded through his hair again, a mannerism Hannah remembered from when they'd been friends, good friends. They'd shared a warm banter when he'd come to work on the step-down floor. The banter between them developed into a friendship she valued, and thought he had too.

Leaning forward, he brought her attention back to why they were sitting in this tiny, barren room acting as if they'd never known each other intimately.