died, he’d let their four sons fend for themselves. That
all of them had achieved a certain measure of success
in life was due, Judith felt, to their own ambition and
determination, along with a debt they felt they owed
their mother, who had put up with a great deal before
dying of cancer two days before her fortieth birthday.
Mary Margaret Flynn had been a redhead, like Joe.
Like Effie McMonigle, too. Judith considered Effie. If
she found out that Dan wasn’t Mike’s father, that she
wasn’t his grandmother or Little Mac’s greatgrandmother—the pen dropped from Judith’s hand. It
was too cruel. Effie was a selfish woman, but not without reason. Her husband, Dan’s father, had left her for
another woman. She had become bitter and very protective of herself and her only child. Judith had always
felt sorry for her mother-in-law. Maybe Effie would
never find out the truth. Judith looked up at the statue
of the Madonna and child again, and said a little prayer
SUTURE SELF
161
for her mother-in-law. Then she looked at the statue of
the Sacred Heart and said a prayer for herself. Having
created a monstrous deception, there seemed to be no
way out of it without the risk of hurting someone. Judith wished she weren’t such a convincing liar.
A pale blonde head edged around the doorway.
“Ma’am?” said a pitiful voice.
Judith turned away from the statues. “Yes?” she responded, then saw Nancy Randall hesitate before moving into the room.
“Excuse me,” Nancy said. “Did my mother leave her
worry beads in here?”
“Her worry beads?” Judith responded, then added
without thinking: “Does she really need them?”
“I beg your pardon?” Nancy’s china blue eyes were
wide. “Yes, they’re a great comfort to her. She used to
say the rosary, but she got too depressed when she recited the five Sorrowful Mysteries.”
“She should have concentrated on the Joyous and
Glorious Mysteries,” Judith said before guilt tripped
up her tongue. “I’m sorry, that was flippant. Do come
in and look around. If your mother dropped her beads,
I didn’t see them. But lying here in bed, I’m at a disadvantage.”
“Yes,” Nancy said slowly, bending down to search
the floor. “I don’t see them, either. Mother is at a disadvantage, too. She can’t plan my father’s funeral
without those worry beads.”
“Surely you and your brother can help her,” Judith
said in a kindly voice. “What about your uncle Jim? Is
he here, too?”
“Not today,” Nancy replied, kneeling by Renie’s
bed. “He’s very upset. And he’s not well, either.”
“What’s wrong?” Judith inquired.
162
Mary Daheim
Nancy, looking frustrated, stood up. “They aren’t
