"I was in a terrible state of mind that day. I went to find your father to discuss the treatment n, and when I pushed open his office door, you were sitting at his desk, reading."n offered a faint smile. "You looked so startled. I must have scared you with my temper."


    Eleanor turned away, but the memory was sharp and clear. She had brought her father dinner, and since he wasn''t there, she had started reading one of his books. A loud bang from the door had made her jump, and she had looked up to seen, his face like a mask of ice, ring at her with cold fury.


    "That''s not what I want to hear," she said, turning back to him, refusing to let him draw her into the past. "I told you to stick to the point. Tell me what happened between you and my father."


    Eleanor''s frown deepened. She hadn''te here to reminisce or listen to his sentimental recollections.


    "If this is all you''re going to talk about, then we have nothing left to discuss." She stood up, ready to leave.


    "Fine, I''ll tell you,"n said quickly, changing his tone. "I''ll tell you what you want to know about your father."


    Eleanor bit her lip and sat back down, her eyes fixed on him.


    Eleanor''s breath caught in her throat. *Cause of death undetermined?* What did that mean? Had there been a mistake? A dy in treatment?


    As if sensing her thoughts,n looked up. "Your father did everything he could. I don''t me him in the slightest."


    Eleanor blinked. She knew her father would have done his best; she remembered his exhaustion during that period.


    "After my father passed away, I signed the donation agreement,"n continued, looking at Eleanor. "I


    know it was a cold


    disrespectful to my father and family, but... I signed it anyway. Do you think I''m a cruel, heartless person?"


    Eleanor didn''t want to pass judgment on him, but an opinion formed nheless.


    "I don''t know. But from a medical standpoint, your decision was incredibly significant."


    A flicker of something-relief, maybe understanding passed throughn''s eyes.


    Eleanor looked down. If her father had received his body for research, what kind of research was it? Deep pathological analysis might required destructive sampling. An autopsy. The thought made her


    fingers clench. For a young man


    who had just lost his father, that would have been an almost


    unbearable cruelty.


    For a moment, she couldn''t bring herself to ask the next question. If that was the kind of research her father needed to do,n must have signed a mountain of paperwork.


    "Later, I had the car ident and was brought to your father for treatment. Regardless of anything else, before we were married, your father was the only doctor my family and I trusted."


    Eleanor swallowed hard. His story


    after the ident was her story. Her


    father had told her, and she had


    immediately taken a leave of


    for


    absence from college to care him. Now she understood why her


    father, who had initially opposed her


    decision, had eventually agreed.