Passage

Barbara hit “play.” The puppy was licking the face of the little girl in the wheelchair. The little girl was giggling. Barbara handed the remote to Maisie. “All right now?” she asked, patting the covers over Maisie’s knees.

“Maybe she isn’t gone yet,” Maisie said. “She’s still getting ready to go, and then she’ll come back and tell everybody good-bye.”

“No,” Barbara said, “she left,” and went out before Maisie could ask her anything else.

Maisie lay there watching The Best Summer. The little girl got out of her wheelchair and walked with old-fashioned-looking crutches. “You were right. You told me all it took to get well was smiles,” she told the doctor.

I’ll bet the nurses forgot to page Joanna, Maisie thought, and she was so busy packing she didn’t even think about the wireless messages the Titanic sent. I’ll bet when she gets to wherever she moved to, she’ll remember. She pushed the call button again, and when Barbara came in, she said, “Where did Joanna move to?”

Barbara looked angry, like she was going to tell Maisie not to ring the call button so much, but she didn’t. She reached over Maisie’s head and flicked it off. “Back east.”

“Back east where?”

“I don’t know, New Jersey,” Barbara said and went out.

New Jersey was where the Hindenburg crashed. Maisie wondered if Joanna had gone there to interview the crewman who had had the near-death experience.

But he lived in Germany. Maybe she had found out about somebody else on the Hindenburg who’d had a near-death experience, and that was why she’d left in such a hurry. She’ll call me as soon as she gets there, Maisie thought.

She wondered how long it took to get to New Jersey. She didn’t think she’d better use the nurse’s call button again. She waited till Eugene brought in her supper tray and asked him, “How long does it take to get to New Jersey, Eugene?”

Eugene grinned at her. “You plannin’ to fly the coop?”

“No,” she said. “To drive there, how many days would it take?”

“Oh, you’re drivin’,” he said. “Ain’t you a little young to be drivin’?”

“I’m serious, Eugene,” Maisie said. “How many days would it take?”

“I dunno,” he said, “three, maybe four. Depends on how fast you drive. You strike me as one a’ them speedy drivers! You better watch out the police don’t stop you and ask to see your license!”

Maisie figured it would probably take Joanna four days if she was moving all her stuff, but she had already left. When? Yesterday or Thursday? If she had left on Thursday, she might call the day after tomorrow.

When her mom came back right before supper, she asked her, “Do you know when Joanna left?”

“No,” her mom said. “Did you watch The Best Summer? I brought you another video, The Secret Garden.”

Maisie decided she had probably left yesterday. So she’ll probably call Saturday, she thought, and I’d better find out as much as I can about the wireless messages so I’ll have lots to tell her. She looked through her Titanic books again and wrote down the ones they sent before the iceberg, just in case Joanna decided she wanted them, too, and waited for her to call.

But she didn’t call on Saturday, or on Sunday. She’s probably busy interviewing the Hindenburg person, Maisie thought, watching the video of The Secret Garden. There was a little boy in a wheelchair in this one, and a little girl who was very crabby. Maisie liked her.

The little girl kept hearing funny noises, like somebody crying. When she asked the people in the house about it, they told her they didn’t hear anything and tried to change the subject, so she went upstairs and looked for herself. She found the little boy in the wheelchair and started taking him outside without telling anybody.

I’ll bet he gets well, too, Maisie thought disgustedly, and fell asleep. When she woke up, the little girl was writing her uncle a letter. “Where shall I send it?” she asked the maid, and the maid told her the address.

When Barbara came in to take her blood pressure, Maisie waited until she’d taken the stethoscope off and then asked, “Do you know Dr. Lander’s address?”

“Her address?” Barbara asked, putting the stethoscope back around her neck.

“The address of where she moved to.”

Barbara peeled the blood pressure cuff off Maisie’s arm and put it in the basket on the wall. “Maisie—” she said and then just stood there.

“What?” Maisie said.

“I forgot the thermometer,” she said, feeling in her pockets. “I’ll be right back.”

“But did she? Leave an address?”

“No,” Barbara said, and just stood there, like she had before. “I don’t know where she is.”

But I’ll bet Dr. Wright does, Maisie thought. They were working on a project. Joanna had to tell him the address of where she was going. She thought about asking Barbara to page him, but she remembered Joanna saying he sometimes turned his pager off, so she called the hospital switchboard herself.

“Can you give me Dr. Wright’s number?” she asked the operator, trying to sound like her mother.

“Dr. Richard Wright?”

“Uh-huh,” Maisie said. “I mean, yes.”

“I’ll connect you,” the operator said.

“No, I want—” Maisie said, but the operator had already connected her. The phone was busy.

Maisie waited till nighttime, when the evening operator would be on, and tried again. This time she said, “Dr. Wright’s number, please.”

“Dr. Wright has gone home,” the operator said.

“I know,” Maisie said. “I need his number so I can call him tomorrow. To make an appointment,” she added.

“An appointment?” the operator said doubtfully, but gave her the number. Maisie called it, just in case he hadn’t gone home, but nobody answered. Nobody answered the next day either, even though she called every half hour.

She would have to go see him. She called the operator again and asked where Dr. Wright’s office was. “602,” the operator told her, which was good. She would have to take the elevator, but her room was 422, so his office should be right above it, and she wouldn’t have to walk very far.

The hard part would be getting down to the elevator without anybody seeing her. The little girl in The Secret Garden had gone at night, but Dr. Wright wouldn’t be in his office then, and she couldn’t do it in the morning because that was when they made the bed and helped her take her shower and brought the library cart around. And at two o’clock her mother came.

She would have to do it after they picked up the lunch trays. As soon as they made her bed, she went over to the closet and got her clothes and put them under the covers. She laid one of the Titanic books open on top of the lump it made so it wouldn’t show, and then lay down and rested so she would have enough energy for the walking.

She ate a lot of her lunch, too, and Eugene, when he came in to pick up the tray, said, “Awright! That’s what I like to see! You keep eatin’ like that, and you’ll be out of this place in no time! ”

She had put on her pants and socks before lunch. As soon as he took her tray out, she put on her shoes and turtleneck. She put her robe on over her clothes, pulled the covers up, and lay down, catching her breath and listening.

The little boy in 420 started crying. Footsteps came down the hall and went in the room.

She’d better turn on the TV so the nurses would think she was watching a video and wouldn’t come in to see what she was doing. She got the remote off the bed table, rewound The Secret Garden, and hit “play.”

The crying stopped. After a few minutes footsteps came out of the room and went back toward the nurses’ station. On the TV, the little girl was sneaking up a long winding staircase. Maisie got out of bed, and took off her robe. She stuck it under the covers and tiptoed to the door. There was nobody in the hall, and she couldn’t see