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“No change. We need to shock again.”
    He charged the defibrillator to 360 joules. “Clear.”
    Mercy stepped back and almost turned to leave, but she couldn’t. A sort of morbid amazement held her there, watching the scene of horror play out before her. Shegripped the door frame. A loud pop and flash preceded the stench of burned flesh. An electrode had blown. Lauren and Dr. Bower checked for signs of life while another nurse replaced the electrode.
    â€œNo change,” Dr. Bower said.
    Mercy felt sick. Mom should be here to see what her crazy order was doing to Grandma. But then, Mom, too, had suffered enough.
    Again they shocked, and Mercy could not bring herself to leave. CPR resumed. The longer they worked, the more convinced she became that Grandma was already far past their so-called help. And that meant she was also past any more pain.
    Dr. Bower called a halt a seeming eternity later. Mercy did not move until he pronounced the time of death.
    She stepped from the doorway as the code team cleaned up the mess of scattered monitor strips and plastic wrapping that had been tossed on the floor during the code. One by one, they filed out past her, some avoiding her eyes as if ashamed of the work they had just done.
    Lauren stopped and laid a tanned, slender hand on Mercy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dr. Mercy.” Tears filled her pretty green eyes.
    â€œSo am I, Lauren. Thanks for calling me over.”
    â€œIt was Dr. Bower’s request. Your mom told us not to.”
    â€œFigures.” Mercy was thirty-nine, and Mom had still not overcome the need to hem her in with maternal over-protectiveness. Often it rankled. It showed lack of respect for Mercy’s ability to cope. For goodness’ sake, she was a doctor.
    Dr. Bower paused for a moment at the bedside, his hand resting gently on Grandma’s arm, his head bent and eyes closed. When the last team member had left theroom, Mercy walked over to stand beside the man and gaze into Grandma’s silent, scarred face.
    Dr. Bower raised his head and looked at her. “I’m sorry, Dr. Richmond, I’ve been told she was a much loved lady.” He had a kind voice, deep and masculine, but with a gentle quality.
    Mercy nodded, dry eyed. “She was.”
    â€œI apologize for my abruptness. I could have handled the situation better.”
    The sincerity in his voice disarmed her. She’d been prepared for battle when she came in here. Now she felt spent. Empty. “I wouldn’t let you.” She shook her head. “I had always sworn that I would never do to another doc what patients and families have done to me, and here I led the pack—aided by my mother, of course. I know the law, Dr. Bower. It’s just that she’s my grandma.” Her voice caught, and her professional demeanor abandoned her for a moment. Her throat ached with tears she refused to shed. She was grateful for the man’s thoughtful silence.
    â€œMy mother died of metastatic breast cancer three years ago,” he said after a few moments. “I remember the feelings of helplessness and anger. I wanted to do so much more for her, and there was nothing more to do except keep her comfortable. Had we revived your grandmother…”
    â€œI know.”
    There was another pause, then Dr. Bower asked, “Would you like me to go with you to tell your mother?”
    Mercy took a final look at Grandma and turned away. “No, thank you. It’ll be best coming from me.”
    He hesitated. “Did you not have a chance to discuss the DNR form with your mother?”
    â€œI tried. Mom wouldn’t talk about it.”
    â€œIt’s a difficult subject to discuss. I gathered that your mother was the main caregiver.”
    â€œYes. I tried to help more, just to keep her from exhausting herself.” Mercy shook her head. “Mom can be stubborn and self-sufficient. She’s lost so much sleep