She made a note. "Right. Who's doing the operation?"

"Paige, there's a hernia operation scheduled for tomorrow in OR Three, seven-thirty a. m."

Paige had never been so excited. I'm going to do my first operation! I'm going to hold a human being's life in my hands. What if I'm not ready"? What if I make a mistakel Things can go wrong. It's Murphy's Law. By the time Paige was through arguing with herself, she was in a state of panic.

"You are."

The answer came when George Englund, chief of surgery, sent for her.

"You're ready for it. I think the patient's lucky to have you. His name is Walter Herzog. He's in 314."

"Right. I…" The words suddenly sank in. "I am?"

"Yes. Any problem with that?"

By the beginning of her fourth year of residency, Paige had assisted in hundreds of operations. They had become second nature to her. She knew the surgery procedures for the gallbladder, spleen, liver, appendix, and, most exciting, the heart. But Paige was frustrated because she was not doing the operations herself. Whatever happened to "Watch one, do one, teach one"? she wondered.

Paige's grin lit up the room. "No, sir! I… thanks!"

"Herzog. Room 314. Right." And Paige was out the door.

She went into the cafeteria and sat down to have a cup of black coffee. It's going to be all right, she told herself. I've assisted in dozens of hernia operations. There's nothing to it. He's lucky to have me. By the time she finished her coffee, she was calm enough to face her first patient.

Paige walked over to the bed and handed him the flowers. "I'm the doctor. I'm going to operate on you."

He swallowed. "Are you really going to do the operation?"

Walter Herzog was in his sixties, thin, bald, and very nervous. He was in bed, clutching his groin, when Paige walked in, carrying a bouquet of flowers. Herzog looked up.

"It says you're going to be just fine."

Paige patted his arm. "I haven't lost a patient yet." She looked around the room. "Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything to read? A book or magazine? Candy?"

He looked at the flowers, and looked at her. "You're what?"

"Don't worry," Paige said reassuringly. "You're in good hands." She picked up his chart at the foot of the bed and studied it.

"Nurse… I want to see a doctor."

"Yes."

"You seem awfully… awfully young."

"What does it say?" the man asked anxiously. Why did she bring me flowers'?

Word gets around fast, Paige thought. "Yes."

"Well, then, I'll see you in the morning," Paige said cheerfully. She wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Here's my home number. You call me if you need me tonight. I'll stay right by the phone."

By the time Paige left, Walter Herzog was a nervous wreck.

A few minutes later, jimmy found Paige in the lounge. He walked up to her with his wide grin. "Congratulations! I hear you're going to do a procedure."

"Whoever he is, he's lucky," Jimmy said. "If anything ever happened to me, you're the only one I'd let operate on me."

He was listening, nervously. "No, I'm okay." Why was she being so nice to him? Was there something she wasn't telling him?

And, of course, with Jimmy, there was always a joke.

"Did you hear the one about the man who had a strange pain in his ankles? He was too cheap to go to a doctor, so when his friend told him he had exactly the same pain, he said, 'You'd better get to a doctor right away. And tell me exactly what he says.'

"Thanks, Jimmy."

"The next day, he learns his friend is dead. He rushes to a hospital and has five thousand dollars' worth of tests. They can't find anything wrong. He calls his friend's widow, and says, 'Was Chester in a lot of pain before he died?'"

"'No,' she says. 'He didn't even see the truck that hit him!'"

And Jimmy was gone.

She was awake all night, going over the operation again and again in her mind.

There are three types of hernias: reducible hernia, where it's possible to push the testicles back into the abdomen; irreducible hernia, where adhesions prevent returning the contents to the abdomen; and the most dangerous, strangulated hernia, where the blood flow through the hernia is shut off, damaging the intestines. Walter Herzog's was a reducible hernia.

At six o'clock in the morning, Paige drove to the hospital parking lot. A new red Ferrari was next to her parking space.

Paige was too excited to eat dinner. She spent the evening practicing tying surgical knots on table legs and lamps. I'm going to get a good night's sleep, Paige decided, so I'll be nice and fresh in the morning.

At seven o'clock, Paige was helping Walter Herzog change from pajamas to a blue hospital gown. The nurse had already given him a sedative to relax him while they waited for the gurney that would take him to the operating room.

Idly, Paige wondered who owned it. Whoever it was had to be rich.

"This is my first operation," Walter Herzog said.

Mine, too, Paige thought.

The gurney arrived and Walter Herzog was on his way to OR Three. Paige walked down the corridor beside him, and her heart was pounding so loudly that she was afraid he could hear it.

OR Three was one of the larger operating rooms, able to accommodate a heart monitor, a heart-lung machine, and an array of other technical paraphernalia. When Paige walked into the room, the staff were already there, preparing the equipment. There was an attending physician, the anesthesiologist, two residents, a scrub nurse, and two circulating nurses.

The staff were watching her expectantly, eager to see how she would handle her first operation.

Paige walked up to the operating table. Walter Herzog had had his groin shaved and scrubbed with an antiseptic solution. Sterile drapes had been placed around the operating area.

She looked over at the anesthesiologist, who would give the patient an epidural anesthesia, a saddle block. Paige took a deep breath and nodded.

"Looks like we got there just in time…"

Herzog looked up at Paige and said drowsily, "You're not going to let me die, are you?"

The operation began.

As Paige was about to make the first cut through the skin, the circulating nurse said something.

"Sponge…"

"Would you like some music, doctor?"

It was the first time she had been asked that question.

Paige smiled. "What? And spoil my perfect record?"

The moment Paige made the first incision, her nervousness vanished. It was as though she had done this all her life. Skillfully, she cut through the first layers of fat and muscle, to the site of the hernia. All the while, she was aware of the familiar litany that was echoing through the room.

Paige's mind was totally focused on what she was doing. Locate the hernial sac… free it… place the contents back into the abdominal cavity… tie off the base of the sac… cut off the remainder… inguinal… ring… suture it…

"What?"

"Give me a bovie…"

"There it is…"

"Scalpel."

Paige smiled. "Right. Let's have some Jimmy Buffet."

"Clamp…"

"Suction, please…"

"We have no days off," Paige reminded her.

Paige should have felt drained, but instead she felt wildly exhilarated.

One hour and twenty minutes after the first incision, the operation was finished.

Paige looked up. "Yes?"

"Jesus!" Kat said. "I thought Lincoln freed us. Don't answer it. It's our day off."

It was Sunday and the three women had the day off.

"What should we do today?" Kat asked.

The telephone rang. The three of them stared at it.

"That sounds lovely," Honey said.

Paige said resignedly, "Right." She picked up the receiver. "Dr. Taylor… Hello, Tom… What?… No, I was just going out… I see… All right. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." She replaced the receiver. So much for the picnic, she thought.

The nurse grinned. "That was beautiful, doctor."

"Let's do it!" Kat agreed.

Kat walked over to the telephone and picked it up. "Dr. Hunter." She listened for a moment and handed the telephone to Paige. "It's for you, Dr. Taylor."

When Walter Herzog had been sewn up, the scrub nurse turned to Paige. "Dr. Taylor…"

Paige had an idea. "It's such a lovely day, why don't we drive out to Tree Park? We can pack a picnic lunch and eat outdoors."

"Mr. Newton, I don't think you understand how serious the situation is. If we don't operate right away, your son is going to die."

"Mr. Newton?" He rose to his feet.

"I'm afraid not. Peter has a ruptured spleen. He needs an immediate transfusion and an operation, or he'll die."

Mr. Newton shook his head. "We are Jehovah's Witnesses. The Lord will not let him die, and I will not let him be tainted with someone else's blood. It was my wife who brought him here. She will be punished for that."

"Yes. I'm going to take him home."

"Yes."

"I'm Dr. Taylor. I was just in to see your little boy. He was brought in with abdominal pains."

"Is it bad?" Honey asked.

"Yes, we're about to lose a patient. I'll try to be back for dinner tonight."

Twenty minutes later, Paige was walking into the visitors' waiting room. A man in a dark suit was seated in a chair, staring out the window.

When Paige arrived at the hospital, she drove into the doctors' parking lot and parked next to the new bright red Ferrari. I wonder how many operations it took to pay for that!

When Paige returned to the ward, six-year-old Peter Newton had lapsed into unconsciousness.

He nodded. "Do you think your powers are stronger than the Lord's?"

"He's not going to make it," Chang said. "He's lost too much blood. What do you want to do?"

"Why… then we can't operate."

"Good for you! I talked to him for an hour and I couldn't budge him. He said God would take care of it."

Paige was staring at him. "You're not going to sign, are you?"

Paige made her decision. "Get him into OR One. Stat."

Paige was angry. "I may not know a lot about God's ways, but I do know a lot about a ruptured spleen." She took out a piece of paper. "He's a minor, so you'll have to sign this consent form for him." She held it out.

Paige nodded. "Yes. He changed his mind. Let's move it."

"No. A higher power than yours will help my son, You will see."

The man looked at her and smiled. "You don't know God's ways, do you?"

"And if I don't sign it?"

Chang looked at her in surprise. "His father changed his mind?"

"God is taking care of it," Paige assured him.

"Only if I have to," Paige assured him.

"I saved a boy's life!"

Benjamin Wallace was so angry his voice was cracking. "How could you do such an outrageous thing? You gave him a blood transfusion and operated without permission? You broke the law!"

"There was no time," Paige said. "Ten minutes more and he would have been dead. God was busy elsewhere."

Wallace was pacing back and forth. "What are we going to do now?"

An orderly hurried into the operating room. "Dr. Taylor? Dr. Wallace wants to see you right away."

"What for? You've already done the operation."

Wallace took a deep breath. "You should have gotten a court order."

Two hours and four pints of blood later, the operation was successfully completed. All the boy's vital signs were strong.

"I'll backdate the court order one day. No one will ever know the difference."

Paige looked at him for a long moment. Then she turned and started toward the door.

Paige gently stroked his forehead. "He's going to be fine."

"You'll never do anything like this again, will you?"

Wallace looked at her and began to hyperventilate. "Jesus!" He mopped his brow. "This could cost me my job."

She stopped. "Yes?"

"Paige…?"

"Get a court order."