“I thought we’d talk. If you’ll just tell me what it’s going to take we can get this behind us.”

She frowned and nearly laughed. “What it’s going to take?” she echoed.

“I’ll forgive you and take you back. I’ll even give you something for security if that’s important. But you have nearly ruined my life, my career, my relationship with my daughters and friends, and I think you’ve got your revenge by now. Let’s get this over with. It’s been nearly a year. What are you holding out for?”

She shook her head. “I just want to be divorced,” she said. “Let the lawyers work out the details.” She strained to listen, hoping to hear sirens.

“I’ve been suspended from hospital privileges because of you,” he said. “My closest friends are now your friends. And employers—they’re your friends and employers. I can’t even imagine what kind of lies you had to tell to make all that happen, but I give up. I just want my life back. What’s it going to cost me?”

She squinted at him. Was he truly crazy? She shook her head a little wildly. “I never did anything to you,” she said in an urgent whisper. “I only want to get away from you! You’re mean and dangerous and you should go now. Go before the police get here.”

“I’ve spent days in jail because of you,” he said. “My partners think I’m unstable because of you when all along you were the unstable one. But I can deal with all that if you’ll just give me my life back. Give me my kids and friends and life.”

“How am I supposed to do that, Brad?” she asked.

“I will do whatever it takes to put it back the way it was, back when I had some control and could make things work. It was difficult, you’ve always been difficult, but once I figured it out, everything was fine. It’s not anymore.”

“It wasn’t fine,” she said. “It was terrible. We slept in separate rooms. We were both so unhappy. I have never understood why you didn’t ask for a divorce first!”

“Because it worked,” he said. “It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. I took such good care of you. You always had the best of everything and I didn’t ask for much in return. It worked.”

“Worked? Was that the life you wanted?” she asked with a shake of her head.

He grimaced and suddenly pulled a small, silver handgun out of his pocket. “The alternative is much worse,” he said. “I need my life back. I can’t function like this. That’s all I’m after. It was just fine.”

“Brad, don’t be rash—you’ll find someone better. You’ll find a woman who suits you better, who likes things the way you like them. You’re so popular with your patients and coworkers...it won’t be long before—”

He waved the gun around. He stood and he looked so tired, so worn. “I told you what my plan is. You never listen. We have to go home and end this craziness. I don’t have anything more to lose. Because of you changing your mind, I’m losing everything.”

“But that’s not true,” she said. “You have the house. You chose it. I never even looked at it, it was always your house. You have a successful practice. You have had other women—we both know that. You have two daughters and if you’d only tell them you care about them, they’d be there for you. What more do you need?”

“I need you to come home, Lauren. I don’t want to be alone anymore. There’s no one to talk to.”

“But... But you never talked to me,” she said.

“Of course I did,” he said. “I called and texted every day. I talked to you after work every day. I talked to you on the weekend. We went out to a nice restaurant every week. Twice a week. We traveled and made friends...”

“You shoved me, pinched me, yelled at me! We did only what you wanted to do, went where you wanted to go! We didn’t talk—you talked! And if I said anything—” He scowled and pointed the gun at her. “Please,” she said. “Please don’t.”

The back door opened with a crash as Beau came in. He carried two bags of groceries, then kicked the door closed with his foot. He grinned at Lauren. “Get a little distracted, honey?” he asked. Then he noticed Brad. “Whoa!” he yelled, dropping the groceries on the floor and leaping to place himself in front of Lauren.

Brad slowly raised the muzzle of the gun to his right temple.

“No!” Beau shouted, flying the few long steps across the great room to tackle Brad, knocking the gun away from his temple. They wrestled for control of the gun for a moment and then there was a loud pop. A full two seconds passed as Beau and Brad struggled. Then Beau slid to the floor, a growing river of blood running from the left side of his chest. His eyes were open in shock, his lips parted in a soundless cry.

“Beau!” Lauren screamed, running to him. She knelt on the floor and lifted Beau’s shoulders, holding him in her arms.

Brad, still hovering over them, just looked down at them.

“Help him! Brad! Help him!”

Brad just stood there, watching. A dazed look on his face.

Lauren pressed down on the wound with her hand as she stared up at Brad. She finally heard sirens, but they weren’t close enough. “Brad,” she said calmly. “If you help him, I will come home. We can put it back the way it was.”

Brad went to the kitchen, came back with a towel. He knelt on Beau’s other side, pressing the towel to Beau’s upper chest. The gun lay on the carpet and Brad went into his clinical mode. The police kicked the door and rushed in, weapons drawn. “We need medical,” Brad shouted. “We’ve had a shooting accident. He’s losing blood but he’s still conscious. Bullet to the upper left quadrant. It’s still in there.”

“How did this—” one of the officers attempted.

“I’m a surgeon,” Brad said. “We can get ahead of this. I’ll call ahead for a surgery setup.”

Lauren leaned over Beau, grateful to feel his breath on her face. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “It’s going to be all right.”

Paramedics arrived less than two minutes later, the police confiscated the gun from the floor. Then there was a great deal of commotion while the medics started an IV, packed the wound, applied a bandage and got him on the gurney. “I’m going with him,” Lauren said to the paramedics. “My ex-husband isn’t a practicing surgeon—take this man to the nearest suitable hospital.”

“We’re going to Alameda,” one of them said. “Go, go, go.”

“Wait,” Brad yelled. “Lauren! You’re coming with me!”

She stopped and turned to stare at him. Her clothes were stained with Beau’s blood. “God have mercy on your soul,” she said to Brad. “He’s the shooter,” she said to the police. Then she turned and jogged after the gurney.

“Wait!” Brad called. “Hey, what are you doing?” he asked the police. “Hey, Lauren! Tell them it wasn’t my fault!”

But Lauren got into the ambulance with Beau. She leaned her forehead against his and her tears fell on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, don’t be scared. I’m okay.”

“I think we’re okay, ma’am,” the paramedic said. “Missed his heart, lung and vital artery. Some worry about the condition of his shoulder...”

“You have to be okay,” she said.

* * *

Lauren had been aware of the gun, but ironically it had never interfered in her life or in her conflicts with Brad. Their house was burglarized years ago and Brad decided he wanted a gun for protection, but he had little interest in it. He was not a gun lover. He was not a shooting enthusiast. In fact, he probably hadn’t cleaned or fired the weapon in years. She found that to be a slight miracle.

Brad was not arrested immediately. The police interviewed Lauren while she was at the hospital waiting for Beau’s surgery to be completed, but they had the dispatcher’s tape of her 911 call. Since she’d left the line open the conversation between Brad and Lauren was recorded. After the completion of Beau’s surgery, Beau told them that it was true, he had intervened in Brad’s suicide attempt. “Because I didn’t even think,” Beau said. “You don’t want anyone to do that to himself, right? I just reacted.”

“If I’d lost you, I think it would have killed me,” she said.

“But you didn’t and I have no regrets. Since I met you, I’m even more aware of how precious life is.”

Brad was arrested and booked. The charges were murky because the worst thing he had done was violate an order of protection and point the gun at Lauren. In a split second, the result of that could have been catastrophic. But it was clear that Brad had snapped. Lauren learned that as they booked him he kept carrying on about being a surgeon, a well-known surgeon with many friends in high places. The routine medical examination given to new inmates was brief. His blood pressure was noted as high but it wasn’t surprising as he’d just been arrested and brought to jail.

But that first night in jail, Brad had a stroke. He was assumed to be asleep but when the guards realized something was wrong he was rushed to the hospital and was operated on. It was as if sixty years of rage exploded in his brain and he was not going to make a full recovery. It left him mentally and physically handicapped.

It took a few weeks of emergency legal intervention but Lauren helped Lacey assume the role of legal guardian and obtain a power of attorney so that Brad’s own money could cover the bills for his care. Grandma Delaney at eighty-five was not able to help much. In fact, she was growing more fragile by the day and her only son’s infirmity didn’t help her condition.

Brad didn’t seem to remember what had happened to him and while his limitations frustrated him, he was receiving top-of-the-line care in one of the best rehab and extended care facilities in the Bay Area. His right side was paralyzed and he was mostly helpless.