Secret Daughter

Secret Daughter Read Free Page A

Book: Secret Daughter Read Free
Author: Shilpi Somaya Gowda
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room with a crying child and an anxious mother and know that when she leaves, they will both feel better. Her Peds rotation was the first time she calmed down a hysterical child, a diabetic girl with collapsed veins who needed blood work. Somer held the girl’s hand and asked her to describe the butterflies she saw when she closed her eyes. She successfully drew blood on the very first poke and had the bandage on before the girl was finished with the wings. Her classmates, who did everything possible to avoid the “screamers,” were impressed. Somer was hooked.
    “Thank you, Doctor,” the mother says, with visible relief. “I was so worried. It’s hard not knowing what’s wrong with him. I feel like he’s a little bundle of mystery, and I’m just getting to know him a little every day.”
    “Don’t worry,” Somer says, her hand on the doorknob. “All parents feel that way, no matter how their children come to them. Bye, Michael.”
    Somer returns to her office and closes the door, though she’s already running twenty minutes late. She lays down her instruments, then her head, on the desk. Turning to the side, she sees the plastic model of a human heart Krishnan gave her when they graduated from medical school.
    “I’m giving you my heart,” he said, in a way that didn’t sound as corny as it would have from someone else. “Take good care of it.”
     
    I T WAS ALMOST A DECADE AGO, UNDER THE DULL YELLOW LIGHTS of Lane Library at Stanford’s School of Medicine, that they first noticed each other. They were there night after night, and not just on the weeknights when the rest of the class studied, but on Friday nights, instead of going out for dinner, and on weekends, when the others went hiking. There were only a dozen of them, the Lane regulars: the most studious ones, the hardest workers. Looking back, Somer realizes, they were the ones who had something to prove. Everyone thought of Somer as the odd one out. With her hippie-dippy name and dirty blond hair, it was easy for her fellow students to dismiss her as a lightweight. It used to roil her, that kind of assumption. But she had learned, over the years, to deal with it. She had ignored her high school chemistry teacher’s suggestion to let her male lab partner run the experiments. She had endured the teasing that came with being the only girl in advanced math classes. She was used to being underestimated by others: she turned others’ low expectations into fuel.
    “Summer, like the season?” Krishnan said when she introduced herself. “Winter, spring…like that?”
    “Not exactly.” She smiled. “It’s S-o-m-e-r .” She waited while he considered this. She liked being a little bit different. “It’s a family name. And you’re…Chris?”
    “Yes. Well, Kris with a K . It’s short for Krishnan, but you can call me Kris.”
    She was taken right away with his British-infused accent, which sounded worldly compared to her nondescript Californian tone. She loved hearing him answer questions in class, not only for his alluring accent, but also because his answers were unfailingly, beautifully correct. Some classmates thought he was arrogant, but Somer had always found intelligence to be a turn-on. It wasn’t until later she noticed his dimples, at Gabi’s house party in the spring. Somer sipped her rum-spiked tropical punch slowly. She knew how that type of drink could sneak up on you. Kris, on the other hand, appeared to have consumed several drinks already by the time he approached her.
    “So, I hear Meyer also asked you to work in his lab over the summer?” His speech was slightly slurred as he leaned toward her, sitting cross-legged in the plastic white lawn chair.
    Him too? Somer’s heart skipped a little. An invitation from Professor Meyer was one of the most coveted prizes for a first-year. “Yes, you too?” she asked, trying to sound neutral. She could sense Krishnan’s eyes lingering on the tiny bells trimming the neckline of

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