she said she’s from a section of town called the North End.”
Marjorie knocked on the closed door. A muffled “Come in” could be heard. Marjorie pushed open the door and stepped inside. Janet followed.
“Gloria,” Marjorie called. “How’s the chemo going?”
“Lovely,” Gloria joked. “I’ve just started the IV portion today.”
“I brought you somebody to meet,” Marjorie said. “A new nurse. She’s from Boston.”
Janet looked at the woman in the bed. She appeared to be about Janet’s own age. A few years earlier, Janet would have been shocked. Prior to working in a hospital she’d been under the delusion that cancer was an affliction of the elderly. Painfully, Janet had learned that just about anyone was fair game for the disease.
Gloria was olive-complected with dark eyes and what had been dark hair. Presently her scalp was covered with a dark fuzz. Although she’d been a buxom woman, one side of her chest was now flat beneath her lingerie.
“Mr. Widdicomb!” Marjorie said with surprised irritation. “What are you doing in here?”
Her attention focused on the patient, Janet had not realized there was another person in the room. She turned to see a man in a green uniform with a mildly distorted nose.
“Don’t go giving Tom a bad time,” Gloria said. “He’s only trying to help.”
“I told you I wanted room 417 cleaned,” Marjorie said, ignoring Gloria. “Why are you in here?”
“I was about to do the bathroom,” Tom said meekly. He avoided eye contact while fidgeting with the mop handle sticking out of his bucket.
Janet watched. She was fascinated. Tiny Marjorie had been transformed from an amiable pixie to a commanding powerhouse.
“What are we to do with the new patient if the room is not ready?” Marjorie demanded. “Get down there at once and get it done.” She pointed out the door.
After the man had left, Marjorie shook her head. “Tom Widdicomb is the bane of my existence here at Forbes.”
“He means well,” Gloria said. “He’s been an angel to me. He checks on me every day.”
“He’s not employed as part of the professional staff,” Marjorie said. “He’s got to do his own job first.”
Janet smiled. She liked working on wards that were well run by someone capable of taking charge. Judging by what she’d just seen, Janet was confident she’d get along fine with Marjorie Singleton.
SOME OF the soapy water sloshed out of his bucket as Tom raced down the corridor and into room 417. He released the doorstop and let the door close. He leaned against it. His breaths came in hissing gasps, a legacy of the terror that had flashed through him when the knock had first sounded on Gloria’s door. He’d been seconds away from giving her the succinylcholine. If Marjorie and that new nurse had happened by a few minutes later, he would have been caught.
“Everything is fine, Alice,” Tom reassured his mother. “There’s no problem whatsoever. You needn’t be worried.”
Having reined in his fear, Tom was now angry. He’d never liked Marjorie, not from the first day that he’d met her. That bubbly good nature was just a sham. She was a meddlesome bitch. Alice had warned him about her, but he hadn’t listened. He should have done something about her like he’d done to that other busybody nurse, Sheila Arnold, who’d started asking questions about why he was hanging around an anesthesia cart. All he’d have to do was get Marjorie’s address sometime when he was cleaning up in administration. Then he’d show her who was in charge, once and for all.
Having calmed himself with thoughts of taking care of Marjorie, Tom pushed off from the door and eyed the room. He didn’t care for the actual cleaning part of his job, just the freedom it provided. He’d preferred the job with the ambulance except for having to deal with fellow EMTs. With housekeeping, he didn’t have to deal with anyone except for rare run-ins with the likes of Marjorie. Also, with housekeeping he could go anyplace in the hospital almost anytime he wanted. The only catch was he occasionally had to clean. But most of the time he was able to get by just pushing things around, since nobody was watching him.
If Tom was honest with himself, he had to admit that the job he’d liked the best had been one he’d held way back when he’d first left high school. He’d gotten a job with a vet. Tom liked the animals. After he’d worked there for a while the vet had designated Tom as the person in charge of putting the animals to sleep. They were usually old, sick animals that were suffering, and the work gave Tom a lot of satisfaction. He could remember being disappointed when Alice didn’t share his enthusiasm.
Opening the door, Tom peered up the corridor. He had to return to the housekeeping closet to retrieve his housekeeping cart, but he didn’t want to run into Marjorie for fear she’d start in on him again. Tom was afraid he might not be able to control himself. On many occasions he’d felt like striking her because that’s what she needed. Yet he knew he couldn’t afford to do that, no way.
Tom knew he would have trouble helping Gloria now that he’d been seen in her room. He would have to be more careful than usual. He’d also have to wait a day or so. He’d just have to hope she’d still be on IVs by then. He didn’t want to inject the succinylcholine intramuscularly because that might make it detectable if it occurred to the medical examiner to look for it.
Slipping out of the room, Tom headed up the hall. As he passed 409, he glanced inside. He didn’t see Marjorie, which was good, but he did see that other nurse, the new one.
Tom slowed his steps as a new fear gripped him. What if the new nurse who’d been hired to replace Sheila was actually hired to find him? Maybe she was a spy. That would explain why she had suddenly appeared in Gloria’s room with Marjorie!
The more Tom thought about it, the more sure he became, especially since the new nurse was still in Gloria’s room. She was out to trap him and stop his crusade against breast cancer.
“Don’t worry, Alice,” he assured his mother. “I’ll listen this time.”
ANNE MURPHY felt better than she had in weeks. She’d been depressed for several days after she’d learned of Sean’s plans to go to Miami. To her, the city was synonymous with drugs and sin. Somehow, the news hadn’t surprised her. Sean had been a bad child from an early age and, like men in general, he certainly wasn’t likely to change, despite his surprising academic performances late in high school and then in college. At first when he talked about going to medical school, she’d felt a ray of hope. But the hope had been shattered when he told her he did not plan to practice medicine. Like so many other junctures in her life, Anne recognized she just had to endure and stop praying for miracles.
Still the question of why Sean couldn’t be more like Brian or Charles plagued her. What had she done wrong? It had to have been her fault. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been able to breast-feed Sean as a baby. Or maybe it was because she’d been unable to stop her husband from beating the child during some of his drunken rages.
Leave it to her youngest son, Charles, to provide a bright spot in the days subsequent to Sean’s departure. Charles had called from his seminary in New Jersey with the glorious news that he would be home for a visit the following evening. Wonderful Charles! His prayers would save them all.
In anticipation of Charles’s arrival, Anne had gone out shopping that morning. She planned to spend the day baking and preparing dinner. Brian said he’d try to make it although he had an important meeting that night that might run late.
Opening the refrigerator, Anne began putting away the cold items while her mind reveled in anticipation of the pleasures she’d enjoy that evening. But then she caught herself. She knew such thoughts were dangerous. Life was such a weak thread. Happiness and pleasure were invitations for tragedy. For a moment she tortured herself about how she’d feel if Charles were killed on the way to Boston.
The doorbell interrupted Anne’s worries. She pressed the intercom and asked who was calling.
“Tanaka Yamaguchi,” a voice said.
“What do you want?” Anne asked. The doorbell did not ring often.
“I want to talk to you about your son Sean,” Tanaka said.
The color drained from Anne’s face. Instantly she scolded herself for having entertained pleasurable thoughts. Sean was in trouble again. Had she expected anything less?
