by Mary Daheim
announcement,” Judith said. “Help me get into the
wheelchair. I want to hear this.”
It was a bit of a struggle, but the cousins managed it.
Judith, who was becoming accustomed to the wheelchair’s vagaries, was able to propel herself into the
274
Mary Daheim
doorway, where she sat with Renie standing next to
her. At least thirty people had filled the corridor. Sister
Jacqueline was one of them, and she didn’t look happy.
While the reporters and cameramen positioned
themselves, Dr. Van Boeck and Dr. Garnett appeared,
coming from different directions. Judith noted that Dr.
Van Boeck didn’t look much the worse for his collapse
the previous day, though both physicians seemed grim.
At last, the elevator doors opened and the star of the
show made her entrance. Blanche Van Boeck had shed
her furs, revealing what Renie whispered was a gray
Armani suit. Knee-high boots and a black turban completed the ensemble. “Big bucks,” Renie noted as
Blanche passed by on her way to the alcove down the
hall.
Judith gestured at the empty doorway across the
hall. “No Mr. Mummy,” she murmured. “Where do
you suppose he is?”
Renie shrugged as Sister Jacqueline found herself
being pushed back in the cousins’ direction.
“Excuse me,” the nun apologized, bumping into Judith’s wheelchair. “This is quite a mob. I wish Mrs.
Van Boeck hadn’t chosen this place for her announcement.”
“It does seem like an odd venue,” Judith remarked.
“Does she have a reason?”
“Does she need a reason?” Sister Jacqueline retorted, then gave herself a little shake. “Sorry. That was
unkind, especially given that Mrs. Van Boeck has always been such a big supporter of Good Cheer. The
truth is, the auditorium is being painted. The workers
just got started Monday, and then weren’t able to come
back after it began snowing. And it’s too cold and
draughty to hold the press conference in the foyer.”
SUTURE SELF
275
“Not to mention,” Renie put in, “that I suspect
Blanche enjoys the cozy atmosphere of a more intimate setting.”
“A more neutral setting as well,” Sister Jacqueline
said, then again looked rueful. “The foyer, the auditorium, so many other places in the hospital feature religious symbols. If Mrs. Van Boeck is going to run for
mayor, she has to appeal to a broad range of voters, the
majority of whom aren’t Catholic.”
“So she’s going to announce her candidacy today,
right?” Renie whispered as, down in the alcove, Blanche
raised her hands for silence.
Sister Jacqueline shot Renie a swift, puzzled glance.
“I’m not certain. Maybe she’ll do that later, downtown.”
Judith gave the nun a puzzled look, but there was no
opportunity for further questions. Blanche was beginning to speak, her strong, sharp voice carrying easily
without a microphone.
“I’ll keep my remarks brief,” Blanche said, her expression somber. “I appreciate your efforts in coming
out in this winter weather. I know it wasn’t easy getting here.” She paused, her gaze resting on her husband, who stood a little apart from the rest of the
crowd. “As of February first of this year, Good Cheer
Hospital will be taken over by Restoration Heartware
of Cleveland, Ohio.”
A gasp went up from the crowd in the hallway.
Hardened journalists they might be, but Blanche’s
statement wasn’t what they’d expected. Judith gasped
right along with them, then turned to Sister Jacqueline.
“Did you know this was coming?” she asked of the
nun.
“Yes.” Sister Jacqueline kept staring straight ahead,
in Blanche’s direction.
276
Mary Daheim
“This,” Blanche continued, “is a very difficult time
for those of us who have been associated with Good
Cheer. We are all very grateful to the sisters who
founded this hospital almost a century ago. Their dedication to physical, emotional, and spiritual health has
been unparalleled in this region. Fortunately, the order
still has hospitals in other cities, and will continue to
administer Good Cheer’s retirement and nursing
homes.”
Blanche drew in a deep breath. “This is a sad day for
us, but we are not without hope. The state of medicine in
this country is pitiful, and universal health care has been
only a dream for the past fifty-odd years. It’s time to stop
talking about it, and act. Therefore, I intend to run for
Congress in the upcoming election. Health care will be
the issue—my only issue. Thank you very much.”
Blanche stepped down amid more gasps from her
audience. She moved quickly through the crowd to her
husband’s side. A few yards away, Dr. Garnett glared
at the couple. Sister Jacqueline had bowed her head
and appeared to be praying.
“Well.” Renie was fingering her chin and observing
the reporters who were pressing in on the Van Boecks.
Dr. Garnett had turned away and was coming down the
hall toward the cousins. He stopped when he spotted
Sister Jacqueline.
“Courage,” he said, touching the nun’s arm. “You
know that you and the other sisters share no blame in
this disaster.” He nodded in the direction of the Van
Boecks, who were trying to escape the media. “If there
are villains other than governmental ineptitude, there
they are.”
Sister Jacqueline gave Dr. Garnett a bleak look.
“What’s the use of blame? It’s over.”
SUTURE SELF
277
Dr. Garnett said nothing. He merely patted Sister
Jacqueline’s hand, offered her a small, tight smile, and
walked away.
“Courage?” the nun echoed bitterly. “What good is
courage? You can’t fight the Devil when you can’t see
him.”
As Sister Jacqueline started to turn away, Judith
called her name. “My condolences,” she said. “There
are many of us in the community who will be sorry to
see the Order of Good Cheer relinquish the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Sister Jacqueline replied, her voice
devoid of life.
“A question,” Judith went on. “A very minor question. Do you know who brought Bob Randall the balloons and cutout of him in his playing days?”
“No,” the nun replied without interest. “Sister Julia
at the front desk would know. She was on duty Monday night. Why do you ask?”
An embarrassed expression flitted across Judith’s
face. “Oh—ah, my cousin thought she recognized him
as one of her children’s old high school chums. How
do I get in touch with Sister Julia?”
“You don’t,” Sister Jacqueline replied. “She started
making a private retreat in the convent Tuesday morning. Sister can’t be reached until Sunday afternoon. It’s
a shame, since I wish I could tell her that not all of her
prayers were answered.” Shoulders slumped, the nun
left the
cousins and headed for the stairwell.
As the Van Boecks disappeared around the corner at
the far end of the hall, Renie reversed Judith’s wheelchair and pushed her cousin back into their room. “Did
Sister Julia volunteer for the retreat or did somebody
give her an order—excuse the pun.”
“I think your imagination may be running away with
278
Mary Daheim
you,” Judith said. “I’m sure the retreat was Sister
Julia’s idea, but her isolation is inconvenient. And what
did Sister Jacqueline mean by fighting the Devil?”
“Restoration Heartware?” Renie suggested as
Corinne Appleby came into the room. “Or a certain individual?”
“Time for your shower,” Corinne announced with
forced cheer. “Good, you’re ready to go,” she added,
indicating the wheelchair. “Shall we?”
Judith had no choice. Renie volunteered to go along
and take her own shower. As they reentered the hall,
the journalists were dispersing. Snatches of conversation could be heard as they passed down the hall
toward the elevators.
“. . . Funny stuff going on around here . . .” “. . . Hey,
I intend to keep my job . . .” “Congress, huh? Why not,
she’s no bigger windbag than they already . . .”
At the rear of the group, Judith spotted Mavis LeanBrodie. She was standing outside Addison Kirby’s
room. “Kirby!” Judith heard Mavis exclaim as the
KINE-TV anchorwoman saw the newspaper reporter’s
name posted by the door. Mavis galloped across the
threshold and disappeared.
“What’s going on?” Judith heard Mavis demand as
Corinne pushed the wheelchair down the hall. “Are
you a prisoner in this place or what?”
Judith hit the brake, catching Corinne off balance.
The nurse almost fell over the top of the wheelchair.
“Sorry,” Judith apologized, looking shamefaced.
“Could we back up a bit?”
“What for?” Corinne asked, catching her breath.
“I just saw an old friend,” Judith said with a lame little smile. “I wanted to say hello.”
“If your friend has come to visit, whoever it is will
SUTURE SELF
279
wait,” Corinne declared. “I have to keep to a schedule.
I don’t want to lose my job when this Cleveland bunch
takes over. I have a mother to support, remember?”
Judith felt the wheelchair move forward at what
seemed to be headlong speed. Unfortunately, Renie
was up ahead. If she had seen Mavis, she hadn’t bothered to stop. But Renie and Mavis didn’t always get
along. Maybe, Judith thought, her cousin had chosen
to ignore the TV anchorwoman.
Once they reached the shower area, Corinne struck
a more amiable attitude. “I’m sorry if I was rude,” she
said as she helped Judith take off her hospital gown,
“but this has been a very difficult day, what with this
takeover and all. Plus, we’ve had some problems with
the showers the last couple of days. Curly, our maintenance man, thinks one or two of the pipes may have
frozen. In fact, the shower area has been off-limits
until just a little while ago.”
“That’s fine,” Judith murmured. “It’s just that I’m so
worried about my husband, and when I saw Mavis . . .
my old friend . . . I thought she might be able to help
me find out what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing to fret about,” Corinne said glibly as
she turned on the taps and helped Judith into the shower.
“I’ll stand right outside. If you need help, just call.”
Judith regarded the steady stream of water with
trepidation. “Are you sure this waterproof cover on the
dressing will keep my wound dry?”
Corinne nodded. “That’s why it’s there. Just don’t
do anything to dislodge it.”
“Where’s my cousin?” Judith asked, looking around
at the other stalls as if she were searching for a lifeline.
A stream of curses exploded out of a shower stall
across the aisle, answering Judith’s question.
280
Mary Daheim
“My cousin hates showers,” Judith explained to a
startled Corinne. “She never can manage the taps.”
“She manages quite well with her mouth,” Corinne
noted with disapproval.
“Uh . . . yes,” Judith replied, maneuvering her way
under the showerhead. Though she was unsteady, the
rush of warm water felt wonderful. For a brief time,
she submitted her body to a sense of total cleansing,
as if her anxieties were flowing right down the drain.
Confidence as well as strength seemed to grow
within her. She vaguely heard Corinne say something about having to step outside for a moment.
Then Judith found the shampoo and began to wash
her hair.
“I’m done,” Renie announced grimly. “Are you
okay?”
Judith peeked around the curtain. “Yes, I’m almost
finished.”
Renie finished putting on her gown and robe. “I’ll
get Corinne to help you come out.”
Judith rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, then fumbled with the taps. She wasn’t quite sure which way to
turn them, but eventually figured it out before scalding
herself. She shook herself as vigorously as possible,
then reached for the towel that Corinne had left on a
peg just outside the stall. Judith was awkwardly drying
off when she heard a noise nearby.
“Coz?” she called, wielding the towel. “Coz?”
Renie didn’t answer. Nor was there any response
from Corinne. Puzzled, Judith rubbed at her wet hair,
then wiped away the moisture that had gotten into her
eyes. When she finished, she blinked several times to
bring her vision into focus.
Then she screamed.
SUTURE SELF
281
A man’s hand appeared from the other side of the
shower curtain and was reaching out to grab her.
As strong masculine fingers wrapped around her
wrist, Judith screamed again.
EIGHTEEN
“MOM! WHAT’S WRONG?”
Judith’s mouth hung open as she gaped at her son.
“Mike?” she gasped, squeaking out his name as if
she were more mouse than mother.
“Didn’t you hear me call to you from outside?”
Mike asked, gallantly trying to avoid peering into
the shower stall.
“Ah . . . No.” Judith swallowed hard, then did her
best to wind the towel around her body. “The water
was running.”
“Hang on to me,” Mike said, looking sheepish.
“I’ll help you out. Gee, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Judith gingerly stepped out of the stall. Her
knees wobbled and she had to lean against her
son. “Give me a minute to collect myself. This is
the first time I’ve been able to take a—” She
stopped, her heart suddenly in her mouth as she
realized what Mike’s arrival could portend.
“Joe . . .” she said with difficulty. “Is he . . . ?”
“He’s doing okay,�
� Mike said. “I talked to him a
few minutes ago.”
“Oh!” Relief swept over Judith. “You’re sure? He
really seemed to be on the mend?”
Before Mike could answer, Renie reappeared. “I
SUTURE SELF
283
see you got your mother out in one piece,” Renie said.
“It’s a good thing—Corinne was called off to help
some post-op patient.”
Judith stared at her cousin. “You knew Mike was
here?”
Renie nodded. “I met him when I went to get
Corinne. Aren’t you tickled to see him?”
Judith started to laugh, a gust of relieved tension that
verged on hysteria. Renie put an arm around her
cousin. “Take it easy, I’ll help you get dressed. Then
we can talk.”
Ten minutes later, Judith was back in their room,
where she gratefully let Mike help her get settled.
“Now,” she said, finding the least painful position in
the bed, “tell me about Joe and how you got here.”
“I saw the story on the news,” Mike explained after
pulling Renie’s visitor’s chair over by Judith’s bed so
that both he and his aunt could sit down. “The snow
had stopped up at the summit around midnight, and the
highway crew started clearing the pass not long afterward. I’d called the hospital to ask about Joe, but they
wouldn’t tell me anything, even when I tried to get
tough with them. What really bugged me was that they
wouldn’t put me through to you. They said it was too
late. I guess it was, maybe twelve-thirty.”
“I can understand why they don’t want to disturb patients that late,” Judith said, “but I’m sorry I didn’t get
to talk to you.”
Mike shrugged his broad shoulders. “Not talking to
you made up my mind—as soon as the roads were
clear, I headed for the city. I’ve got four-wheel drive,
chains, everything except skis on my forest service vehicle. When I arrived at the hospital, they wouldn’t let
me come up to the third floor. No visitors, they said at
284
Mary Daheim
the front desk, because of some dumb press conference. So,” Mike continued, lifting his hands, “I went to
the fourth floor, to see how the other Flynn was doing.”
Judith smiled fondly at her son. “I’m so glad. I
haven’t seen Joe since they brought him in here. It’s
been terrible. How did he look?”
Mike laughed ruefully. “Like hell. And bitching like