by Mary Daheim
“The Seafarers are calling for an investigation into Somosa’s death,” Addison replied. “Apparently, they think something’s wrong, too. I intend to meet with Tubby Turnbull, the team’s general manager, this afternoon.”
Judith was shaking her head. “So I wasn’t wrong,” she said faintly.
At the door, Addison frowned at Judith. “Wrong about what?”
“About these deaths being linked,” Judith said. “Frankly, the deaths of your wife and Somosa struck me as more than a coincidence right from the start. Now, with Randall’s passing, the situation seems downright ominous.”
Addison’s expression was frankly curious. “Why does it interest you so much, Mrs. Flynn?”
Judith felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Oh…You might say that my hobby is snooping.” She uttered a lame little laugh.
Addison now looked puzzled. “Snooping?” he said.
“It’d be more accurate,” Renie said, “to say that her hobby is murder.”
“And to think,” Renie mused after Addison Kirby had departed, “I wondered how we’d pass the time during our hospital stay.”
“I don’t think the deaths of those poor people were intended to keep us occupied,” Judith said, feeling glum and staring up at the mottled plaster ceiling.
The uncommunicative orderly of the previous day came in to remove the cousins’ luncheon trays. If he noticed that neither of them had eaten much, he made no comment, but stoically left the room without a word.
“Can he talk?” Renie asked, getting up and heading for the bathroom. “Or does he consider us unworthy?”
“The latter, I suspect,” Judith responded. “Maybe if you didn’t trash your bed so much, we’d get more respect. Where did that Falstaff’s grocery bag come from?”
“Falstaff’s,” Renie replied, turning around at the bathroom door. “It’s my back-up food supply. Fruit, cheese, crackers, Pepsi, popcorn. We’ll share when I come back to bed. Now I’m hungry.”
“How did you fit that thing into your purse?” Judith asked.
“Easy,” Renie replied. “I have a huge purse.” She went inside the bathroom and shut the door.
The outer door opened almost simultaneously as Heather Chinn entered. “Time to get you on your feet,” she said in a cheerful voice. “How do you feel, Mrs. Flynn?”
“Not like I want to get on my feet,” Judith said. “I thought we’d do this later in the afternoon.”
“It’s almost two,” Heather said. “The more you lie there, the weaker you’ll become. Here, let me help you swing around to the edge of the bed.”
It took Judith a few moments to sit up straight. Then, slowly and unsteadily, she let Heather help her move her legs. Pain spread out from her hip to envelop her entire body. “I feel dizzy already,” Judith asserted.
“You’re doing fine,” Heather soothed. “Now lean on me and try to stand up.”
Judith could both feel and hear the artificial hip move. She was frightened. “Is that…?” she gulped, still dizzy.
“That’s fine, keep coming. You’ve got all your weight on your good leg,” Heather coached. “Now put just a little on the other leg, okay?”
The worn linoleum was rising up toward Judith in tired, wrinkled waves. She felt as if she were falling overboard, into a murky yellow sea. Suddenly her world went dark, except for shooting stars and trailing comets.
“Coz!” Renie had just come out of the bathroom. Moving as quickly as she could, she went to Judith, who had, fortunately, fallen backwards onto the bed. Heather was looking more annoyed than frightened as she took Judith by the hands.
“It’s nothing,” the nurse said to Renie. “Maybe she isn’t quite ready to stand. Still, if she doesn’t try…”
“If she doesn’t try, she won’t pass out,” Renie cut in tersely. “Let me get somebody to help you put her back to bed.”
Though Heather was stronger than she looked, she didn’t turn down the offer. The nurse was a short, slim size four; Judith was a statuesque size fourteen. Another strong body was needed for the task. Renie found the silent orderly just outside the door, stacking trays onto the meal cart.
Judith’s eyelids fluttered open as the nurse and the orderly got her back into bed. “Oh…What happened?” she asked, her mouth dry and her eyes unfocused.
“You had a little setback,” Heather said, tucking the covers around Judith. “We’ll try that again later.” The nurse began taking vital signs.
Renie was standing by the windows. “Damn,” she breathed, “I think it may snow. I wish Bill and Joe would get here soon, while it’s still daylight.”
“Joe said he’d be by around three,” Judith said. “Bill’s coming with him, I think.” She took a deep breath before Heather popped the thermometer in her mouth.
“Right, there’s no point in taking two cars,” Renie said, looking down at the hospital entrance’s graceful landscaping and the adjacent parking lot. “Boy, it looks really cold out there. I can feel the chill through the windows.”
Judith couldn’t respond with the thermometer in her mouth. The dizziness had passed, but she felt weak as a newborn lamb. The idea of trying to stand up later in the day sounded impossible.
“I need some water,” she said in a thick voice after Heather had removed the thermometer. “I’m so dry.”
“You mustn’t get dehydrated,” Heather warned, proffering the plastic glass. “Remember how we’ve told you to keep taking in fluids.”
“Hey,” Renie said, “I see Addison Kirby heading for the parking lot. I wonder if he’s off to see Tubby Turnbull at the…Look out!” She shuddered as her good arm reached out toward the window in a pleading motion. “Ohmigod!”
“What?” Judith sputtered, choking on the water.
Horror-stricken, Renie staggered around to stare at Judith and Heather. “It’s awful,” she gasped, leaning against the window embrasure for support. “A car just came from out of nowhere and ran over Addison Kirby!”
Heather Chinn ran off to get help. Renie stood rooted by the window. “The car took off,” she said in a shaky voice. “Poor Addison’s lying there in a heap.”
Judith had rolled over onto her side, though she couldn’t get a better view of what was happening beyond the window. “Is he…?” she asked in a fearful voice.
“No, he’s moving,” Renie said. “Sort of.”
“Damn!” Feebly, Judith swung a fist in frustration. “I feel so helpless!”
“Here comes a guy in a white coat and another guy in some kind of uniform.” Renie was trying to open the window with her good hand, but it wouldn’t budge. “The white coat may be a doctor. Yes, I think it’s what’s his-name—Garnett, the second in command. The guy in uniform may be security. Here comes somebody else, in civvies. He looks sort of familiar.” She gave up trying to open the window and flexed the muscles of her left arm before rapping loudly on the wavery old glass. “Hey, he’s looking up. It’s Jim Randall,” Renie said, breathless. “Here come some more people with a gurney.”
“Double damn,” Judith muttered. “I feel like an idiot. Why couldn’t I at least be in a wheelchair?”
“You will be,” Renie responded. “Huh. They seem to be paying special attention to Addison’s left leg. Maybe it’s broken. Poor guy.”
“Where’s the car that ran him over?” Judith asked.
“I don’t know. It hit Addison and kept going, toward the parking lot.” Renie paused, staring down below. “Dr. Garnett and one of the others are hovering over the gurney. Jim Randall is walking away. The security guy is wandering around, like he’s looking for someone or something.”
“The car, I suppose,” Judith said. “You’ll have to tell him you saw it. What color and make was it?”
“It was sort of beige,” Renie said, “fairly new, but from up here on three, I couldn’t guess what make. All I could see was the roof.”
“Do you remember if there’s an outlet from the parking lot?” Judith inquired.
“No, of course not,” Renie answered. “We pulled into the patient admitting area on the opposite side of the entrance.”
“Oh.” Judith rolled over onto her back. “I forgot. That anesthesia has muddled my brain.”
“It does that,” Renie allowed. “They’re all going inside now, including the uniform.” She waited a moment, then went back to her bed. “Shall I phone security and tell them I saw it?”
“Sure,” Judith said. “They’ll need a witness. Insurance, and all that.”
Renie picked up the phone, dialed zero, and asked to be connected to security. She was informed that security was out. “He’s it?” she said after leaving her name and room number.
“Probably not, at least not at night,” Judith replied.
Renie began hauling food out of the Falstaff’s bag. “Let’s eat something before the nurses come around with all their paraphernalia. I don’t want them confiscating my stash.”
“I might nibble on an apple,” Judith said.
“Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, Granny Smith, Gala?” Renie offered.
“Red Delicious,” Judith said, gazing at the sack with its Falstaff logo. “How much stuff have you got in there?”
“Plenty,” Renie replied, using her left hand to toss Judith a shiny red apple. It was a surprisingly accurate throw, considering that Renie was normally right-handed. “Hey,” she said with a grin, “maybe I could’ve been a southpaw pitcher. Cheese? There’s Monterey jack, Havarti, Brie, and a really nice Gouda.” She produced a small knife and held it up.
“The apple’s fine,” Judith said with a slight shake of her head. “I don’t see how you got all that stuff in your purse, big as it is.”
“That’s because I took everything else out and put it in my overnight bag,” Renie said. “Food first; the rest is a distant second.”
The phone rang. Judith thought it must be security, calling Renie back. But Renie gave a brief shake of her head. It wasn’t her phone. Judith wrestled with the receiver, and finally managed to say hello.
“Hi, Mom,” Mike said, sounding vaguely apprehensive. “How are you getting along? Joe told me the surgery went fine.”
“It did,” Judith replied with a big smile on her face. “I’m getting along just great.”
“That’s a huge relief,” Mike said, and Judith knew he meant it. Her son was a worrier. “Kristin and Mac and I’d like to come into town tonight to see you, but it’s snowing like crazy up here at the pass. I think they’re going to close the highway pretty soon. It’s a regular blizzard.”
In her mind’s eye, Judith could picture the U.S. Forest Service cabin that Mike and Kristin called home. It was small but cozy, and with a magnificent view of the surrounding mountains and forest. At least when they could see through the snow.
“Don’t even think of coming down until I get home,” Judith said. “I’m not going to be here forever.”
“I know, but I’d still like to pay a visit before the weekend,” Mike said. “Didn’t they figure you’d be home about Saturday?”
“They didn’t make any promises,” Judith said. “How’s Kristin? What’s little Mac up to?”
“They’re fine,” Mike said. “Kristin still has the queasies sometimes, but basically, she feels strong.”
Like a fifty-foot Douglas fir, Judith thought, picturing her daughter-in-law.
“Mac wants to go back outside to play in the snow,” Mike went on, “but it’s blowing too hard. Kristin took him out there a while ago, and the wind knocked him over. He made a perfect snow angel when he fell, though. Thanks again for the snowsuit you gave him for Christmas.” He paused, and Judith could hear Mac jabbering in the background. “Tomorrow, little fella, okay? Say,” Mike said into the phone again, “I wasn’t going to mention this until I saw you, but now that I think about it, you’re probably pretty bored, huh?”
“Well…” Judith glanced at Renie, who was gobbling cheese and pear slices. “Not exactly, but I may be later.”
“We’re going to put Mac in preschool this fall,” Mike said, sounding like a typical proud papa. “There’s a really good one about twenty miles down the highway. Kristin’s been filling out the forms, and one thing they’d like to have is a family tree. Then, when the kid enters on the first day, there’s his picture on this cutout of a tree, with information about all of his ancestors. Cute, huh?”
“Cute,” Judith agreed, though her voice had gone flat. “So you want me to put together a family tree.” She caught Renie’s gaze; Renie choked on her pear.
“If you could,” Mike said. “Nothing fancy; I gather the teachers do the artwork and arranging. No real rush, either, though they’d like to have all this stuff by the end of the month.”
“The end of the month?” Judith frowned into the phone. “Why so soon? Mac won’t start school until fall.”
“The teachers have to make the trees for about sixty kids,” Mike said reasonably. “Of course, they have to decide if they’ll accept Mac in the first place. But the earlier we get all this stuff done, the more likely he’ll get into Little Einsteins.”
“That’s the name of the school?” Judith gulped.
“Right. They don’t take just any kid,” Mike said, pride still evident in his voice. “Of course, it’s not cheap, but we can swing it. Education’s so important these days. I mean, it’s not like when I was a kid, and you sent me to Ethel Bump’s place. All we did was string beads and finger-paint her furniture and roll around on our rugs.”
“That was day care, Mike,” Judith said over Renie’s loud coughing fit. You were there so I could work two jobs while Dan laid on the couch, starting his day with an entire bottle of blackberry brandy and working his way up to his first vodka at eleven in the morning. “You did more than just play at Ethel’s,” Judith continued. “You learned your numbers.”
“Not all of them,” Mike responded. “I always left out nine.”
“True.” Judith hung her head. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great, Mom. Got to go. There’s a message coming in on my fax. Love you.” He hung up.
“Family tree, huh?” Renie said, having conquered her choking.
Judith grimaced. “I’ve dreaded this for years.”
Renie offered her cousin a sympathetic smile. “Don’t you think Mike knows that Dan wasn’t his real father?”
“Define ‘real,’” Judith said with a frown.
“I meant natural father,” Renie responded, eating a piece of Havarti cheese. “Yes, I certainly know that Dan raised Mike, that in spite of being a lousy husband, he was a pretty good dad. I also know that Mike has always felt that Dan really was his dad. But a year or so ago, I got the impression that Mike had figured it out. Do you remember? We were all having our pictures taken with little Mac, and Mike suddenly looked from the baby’s red hair to Joe’s, and since Mike himself has red hair and Dan was very dark, I got the impression that Mike finally realized the truth.”
“He’s never said a word,” Judith asserted. “Not to me, not to Joe. But you’re right, I think he must know, deep down. How much denial could he possibly have? I wanted to broach the subject with him then, but I kept putting it off. We’d already had one big conversation a couple of years ago, and it became clear to me that the truth would have altered his memory of Dan.”
“He was younger then,” Renie pointed out. “That was before he got married, wasn’t it?”
“I can’t remember,” Judith admitted. “I know, I tend to bury things, hoping they’ll go away. But they don’t.”
The phone rang again, this time on Renie’s line. She responded in monosyllables, then hung up. “Security. His name is Torchy Magee. He’ll be up in a few minutes, along with a cop.”
“If Joe had never been a cop,” Judith sighed, “and never gotten drunk that night in the bar with Herself, I wouldn’t be in this quandary now.”
“Nonsense,” Renie retorted, cutting another slice of cheese and popping it in her mouth.
Meanwhile, Judith had lived a lie, at least as far as Mike was concerned. Joe didn’t know that she was pregnant when he ran off with Herself. Judith had never told him, not until almost a quarter of a century later. Dan had raised Mike as his own, and perhaps his often antagonistic attitude toward Judith was a form of punishment for bearing another man’s child. Whatever the cause, Judith had suffered a great deal during the nineteen years that she was married to Dan.
“But he was a good father.” She repeated the phrase so often that it was like a mantra. She could never make Dan happy, but she could honor his memory, especially in Mike’s eyes.
“Yes, yes,” Renie said testily. “But Mike’s a grown man now, he can handle the truth. It’s not fair to Joe. It never has been, and I’ll bet my last five bucks he resents it, deep down.”