The heat was still deadly, and they were both tired when they got back to the apartment, and sprawled out on the couch side by side.

“How about a nice cool air-conditioned movie tonight, after I make us some dinner?” Steve looked happy and relaxed and like a different man than the one who had practically crawled into their apartment the night before after three and a half days on duty. All he had needed to revive him was some time with Meredith and a night's sleep. He already felt better and more alive.

“I can't go to the movies, Steve.” She looked at him regretfully. “I have to pack, and I haven't even started my reading.” She'd been out with him all afternoon.

“That's too bad,” he said, looking disappointed, but he was used to it. She almost always brought work home from the office with her. “What time are you leaving?” he asked, as he sprawled out on the couch. He was wearing khaki pants and a blue shirt, and bare feet in loafers, and Meredith thought he looked unusually handsome. He would have looked better still with a tan, but he never had the time to get one. And his pale angular face somehow made his dark hair and eyes seem even darker and more intense.

“I'm on a noon flight,” she explained. “I'll have to leave here around ten.”

“There goes Sunday,” he said, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. Business was business, and she had to see Callan Dow in California. Steve understood that.

He watched TV that night while she worked in the small den she used as an office. It was crammed with his medical books, and books she kept on recent rulings of the SEC, and an assortment of medical texts, finance books, and novels. Her computer was set up there, and Steve had one of his own, but seldom used it. In some ways, their interests were widely divergent, and always had been, and yet they were each intrigued by the other's field. But Steve always laughed about the fact that he knew virtually nothing about finance. She had a better grasp of what he did, and considerably more interest in it. But at the same time, he had a healthy respect for the fact that she earned a better living. She earned a big salary, which was something he knew he never would in his line of work. And she chafed at the fact that she didn't make more than she did, and felt she should have. But they had more than enough for their comfortable lifestyle. They had lived in the same apartment for the past five years, it was a co-op and Meredith had paid for it in full when she became a partner. Steve would have liked to contribute to it, but just plain couldn't. The disparity in their incomes had never been an issue between them, it was something they both understood and accepted. Unlike other couples, they never fought about money, just about whether or not to have kids.

She read until nearly midnight that night, and Steve was asleep in front of the TV when she finally finished. He had drunk half a bottle of wine, and was feeling relaxed and content. Meredith packed her suitcase before she woke him. It was one o'clock by then, and he was in a sound sleep when she kissed him, and he stirred.

“Let's go to bed, sweetheart. It's late. And I have to get up early tomorrow,” she said softly. She knew he had called a friend that afternoon, and was going to play tennis with him after she left for the airport.

Steve followed her sleepily into the bedroom, and a few minutes later, they were in bed, with their arms comfortably wrapped around each other. And five minutes later, he was snoring. They both slept soundly until six A.M., when the phone rang. It was the hospital for him. Harvey Lucas, the head of the trauma unit, was in surgery with the chief resident and two other doctors, working on four victims of a head-on collision, and they needed Steve to come in. He could refuse if he wanted to, since he wasn't on call, but he knew from what they said that they needed someone there right away, and he didn't want to let them down. He never did. And with a glance at Meredith, he told them he'd be there as soon as he could. Two of the victims were children, one was a severe head injury, and the pediatric neurosurgeon was already on his way in. The parents were both in critical condition, and they weren't sure yet if the second child would make it. His neck was broken and they thought he had a spinal cord injury. He had been in a coma since they brought him in.

“I hate to leave before you,” Steve said as he climbed into jeans and pulled on a clean white T-shirt. He would change into scrubs in the hospital, and he slipped his bare feet into the clogs he wore at work.

“That's okay,” she smiled sleepily at him, she was used to it, they both were. “I have to get up pretty soon anyway.’’

“So much for tennis, or a leisurely Sunday. I should be able to get back in a couple of hours. “It was wishful thinking on his part, they both knew, and she'd be gone by then anyway. Meredith knew that once he was at the hospital, he'd stick around, and check on his other cases, and he probably wouldn't be home before midnight, if then. He might even stay overnight if there was enough for him to do, and he'd just go back on duty anyway the next morning. Although Meredith would be back Tuesday morning, he wouldn't be off duty till Wednesday, and she wouldn't see him till late that night.

“I'll call you from California.” She wasn't even sure where she was staying. Callan Dow had said he'd make the arrangements for her.

“Just make sure Cary Grant, or Gary Cooper, or whoever the hell you said he looked like, doesn't sweep you off your feet while I'm saving lives.” He smiled, but she could see a mildly worried look in his eyes. He was obviously concerned about Callan Dow.

“You don't need to worry,” she said, as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and kissed her.

“I hope not.” He gently touched her naked breast with his hand as they kissed again, and he looked at her with regret before he left. “I was hoping to make love to you before we both went back to the wars.” But this was the story of their lives, and always had been, deferred hopes and canceled plans, postponements and promises and rain checks. They were used to it and most of the time it didn't upset them.

“Hold the thought…. I'll see you Wednesday night when I get back from the office. I'll try not to stay late.” She knew he was coming off duty then.

“That's a date.” He smiled at her, clipped his pager on his belt, and ruffled his hair with one hand rather than combing it. He had brushed his teeth, but didn't bother shaving. His was not a job that required him to look elegant or well groomed, and most of the time he didn't bother to try. He had more important things to think of. “Have a good trip,” he said with a last wave from the doorway, and an instant later she heard the front door close, as she lay in their bed, thinking about him. He was exactly as he had been fourteen years before when they met and he was a resident. His whole life revolved around what he was doing, just as hers did. And as she lay there, she began thinking of the company she was going to be taking public, and everything she still had to do to assure that it would go smoothly.

She got up and brought a stack of papers back to bed with her, and read for two hours before she got up, and she was satisfied that she was nearly prepared for her meeting in California. She still had a few last questions to ask, and mostly she wanted to brief Callan Dow on what to expect when they went on the road. He had never taken a company public before, he was a novice at all this and he looked to her entirely for advice and information. In some ways, it made her feel both competent and important, and then for an instant, she felt a little guilty for it. She wondered sometimes if she enjoyed what she did because it made her feel powerful and independent. She loved what she did and the world of high finance she existed in. It was a world she had reveled in since the first moment she'd been in it, just as Steve was passionate about what he did. In some ways, they were so different, and yet they both loved their jobs, and knew they were doing something that mattered to people. Although Steve was saving lives, she was helping people achieve what they had worked so hard for years to accomplish, and that wasn't negligible either, although it was very different from what Steve did.

The phone rang while she was getting dressed, and it was Steve. He had just come out of surgery with the child with the broken neck, and the orthopod had said that he'd be fine eventually. He'd been very lucky, and Steve had assisted in the surgery and said he was going to hang around for a while. They had lost the mother shortly after he got there, and the older child was still in a coma. It was the usual drill, although every case that came along seemed like the most important one in his life, and she smiled as she listened to him. He was as excited about what he was doing as she was about going to California to go over the prospectus and the road show with Callan Dow.

“I'll miss you, Merrie,” he said, and she smiled, thinking about him.

“Me too.” She said and meant it, and he laughed when he heard her. He knew her better.

“Yeah, for about ten minutes. All you're going to be thinking about is your red herring and your book and your road show. I know you.”

“Yeah, you do, don't you.” While she was getting dressed, she couldn't help thinking of what he'd said. He knew her as well as she knew him, their respective passions for their work, their goals, their weaknesses, their fears. Their total involvement in their work, which was why they had never had children. Where was the place for them, with him at the hospital for three days at a time, and her traveling all over the place for business? What would a baby get out of a life like theirs? Not much, she felt sure, which was why, so far at least, she had refused to have one. She was good at what she did, she was sure of that, and she was a lot less sure that she would be a good mother. Maybe later, which was what she always told Steve. But much later would be too late, and they both knew it. She wondered if she'd regret putting it off one day, but for the moment, she just couldn't see it. And as she put the rest of her papers back in her briefcase, and buttoned the jacket of her suit, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked as starched and impeccable as Steve had looked rumpled when he left the apartment at six that morning. He didn't have to look any better than that to stand around in the operating room or evaluate patients as they came in on the brink of death. All he had to do was be there and know what he was doing, and he didn't have to look good to do it. Meredith had to exude efficiency and competence and control in everything she did, and look the part, and she did, as she picked up her briefcase and left the apartment. She had her laptop and her cellular with her, and the final draft of the prospectus she'd been working on with the lawyers.