“I always come down here first,” I said, “before the lecture.

It is where I feel closest to him.” We sat together for a moment in the shade of the grown-up dogwood.

“How are things upstairs?” I asked him.

“Chaotic, as always,” he said, and he smiled tiredly.

“Three emergencies last night.

I was in the operating room until four in the morning.” He looked up into the branches.

“But you know, every time my hands get tired now, every time I think I can’t do another one, I come to a window and I look down at this garden, and I hear Marcus.

He used to say to me, a scalpel can fix a heart, David, but only presence can comfort one.