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anyway? I warned you not to come.”
    “I had to see you in action,” Jason replies, glancing briefly at me.
    “Jason,” John continues, before turning to me, “I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, Beth Clarke. Beth, this is Jason Hodges. Jason happens to be my doctor, but he’s more than that. He’s one of those rare people these days who actually have an ounce of literary taste.”
    “We’ve already met,” I say shyly, shaking Jason’s hand.
    “I didn’t realize that we shared this connection,” Jason replies. “I think John’s mentioned you a few times, though. You’re his neighbor, right? The one who helps him with his writer’s block?”
    “I wouldn’t go that far,” I tell him.
    “Without Beth,” John interjects, “I’d never have finished The Ghost of Fang Moor . She helped me get through all those knotty little plot problems.”
    “Maybe you could give him some more help,” Jason says with a smile. “The world is crying out for a new John Myers novel, but it’s been so long -”
    “I’ll get there in the end,” John mutters. “I’ve got all these ideas percolating in my head, I just need to wrangle a few of them into something worth sharing with the world. So far, all I’ve got is a bunch of scenes and characters and no way to tie them together.” He sighs. “And what the hell, if I don’t manage to get the damn thing done, it’s not like the world is dangerously short of new books, is it? Maybe I won’t release anything else ever again, I can just write for my own pleasure and not worry about how my work is received by the public.” Hearing someone call his name, he looks over at the stage and scowls. “Great. My wonderful agent is demanding my attention.”
    As he shuffles over to her, I find myself standing awkwardly next to Jason, struggling to think of something to say.
    “I should probably make a confession at this point,” he tells me after a moment.
    I turn to him.
    “When John told me your name, I realized…” He pauses. “We’ve actually met before, although under the circumstances, I’m not at all surprised that you don’t remember.”
    “Really? I’m… sorry, I’m bad with faces.”
    “Two years ago,” he continues, “I used to work regular shifts in the emergency room at St. George’s Hospital. I was there the afternoon when…”
    His voice trails off.
    “Oh,” I say, feeling a shudder pass through my body as I realize what he means.
    “Sorry,” he replies, “I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but I was worried you might recognize me and then… I was trying to defuse the awkwardness, but I guess I made it about a hundred times worse.”
    “No, it’s fine,” I tell him. “I mean… Sorry, that whole day is a bit of a blur.”
    “I did everything I could,” he continues. “With your daughter, I mean. I was the one who…” Again, his voice trails off. “Well, this is awkward, isn’t it? I just… I remember being in the room with you when the senior attending physician broke the news. I want you to know that there isn’t a day that goes past without me thinking about that awful accident, and whether there was anything else that could have been done, even though…”
    “I’m sure,” I reply, glancing over at John, hoping against hope that he might come and rescue me.
    “There really wasn’t anything else we could have tried,” Jason adds. “By the time your daughter got to us, it was too late.”
    I nod.
    “The damage to her head was -”
    “I’m sorry,” I tell him, interrupting before he can go into any more detail, “but I need to go to the bathroom. Would you excuse me?”
    Without giving him time to say anything else, I slip past him and hurry to the door at the far end of the room. Once I’m safely in the women’s bathroom, I stop and stare at myself in the mirror for a moment. I’m not crying, which is good, but I definitely look a little pale. When I come to these events with John, it’s