Still not a satisfactory prayer, but at least it was about Arthur. What a fraud I am, Helen thought. I can’t even pray properly.
Arthur’s hand twitched and then was still. The machines continued their monotonous missions while Helen searched for a better prayer. She finally settled on the Our Father. That was comfort food for the Christian soul, she decided. She recited the timeless prayer. Duty done, she pulled an Agatha Christie paperback out of her surveillance purse to read an old favorite,
She found her own comfort in Miss Marple’s observations about the evil in everyday life. She enjoyed the old woman’s gentle rebuke to the police that most people “are far too trusting for this wicked world.”
The ding of the elevator and the hiss of the medical machinery blended into a soothing background symphony.
Just as Miss Marple was unmasking the killers at the seaside resort, Helen was startled by a loud announcement from a stern female voice. “Visiting hours will be over in five minutes at eight o’clock,” the voice said. “Please turn in your ID badges at the front desk. Good night.”
Was it really going on eight o’clock?
She stood up and stretched. The tall-backed turquoise visitor’s chair failed to give the comfort it had promised. Helen felt like she’d been sitting on a stone. And where was Blossom? She’d been gone almost three hours, long enough for a hot shower and a meal.
Helen walked to the nurses’ station. Nurse Abbott was still on duty, making notes in a thick chart. Helen studied the woman. Her short graying hair gave the nurse a mature, serious look. She had an air of competence and confidence that made Helen want to trust her. But should she? She remembered Miss Marple’s warning as if the old woman had been knitting in Arthur’s room.
Nurse Abbott reached into a box of Godiva chocolate the size of a silverware chest. Helen remembered Violet saying that Blossom had bribed the nurses with a lavish assortment. Helen estimated the box held more than a hundred pieces of light, dark and white chocolate. Her stomach growled loudly.
Nurse Abbott looked up and asked, “May I help you, Reverend?”
“Just taking a break,” Helen said. “I thought Blossom would be back by now.”
The nurse unwrapped a dark chocolate and bit into it. Helen watched the caramel ooze out. Her favorite. There was another loud rumble from Helen’s stomach.
Nurse Abbott ignored it. “That poor thing needs a little time away,” she said. “She sat with her husband for eleven hours straight. Caretakers must take care of themselves, too. If you need a short break, I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Zerling.”
“I would like a cup of coffee,” Helen said. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
She ran down the stairs to the courtyard. The concrete was littered with cigarette butts and the air was thick with stale smoke. Most of the smokers wore hospital scrubs. Didn’t the staff know cigarettes caused cancer?
Helen fished out her cell phone and found a message from Phil. He was practically crowing. “You’re speaking to an estate manager,” he said. “Blossom hired me. It’s six thirty. I start work at nine tomorrow morning. I’ll stop for dinner before I go home. See you when I see you. I love you.”
Poor wilted Blossom went home and found enough energy to interview a new estate manager? She’d hired Phil an hour and a half ago. Helen wondered if her hot, silver-haired man had given Blossom a new interest in life— and frisky ideas.
Surely not. But where was she? Blossom had had enough time to eat, shower, even take a nap.
Helen called Phil’s cell phone. No answer. She left a message that she was still sitting with Arthur Zerling and waiting for Blossom to return to the hospital. Next she called Nancie and gave her report.
“Did the wife let you in his room?” the lawyer asked.
“Blossom couldn’t wait to get out of the ICU,” Helen said. “Not that I blame her. She’d been sitting with Arthur since six this morning. She said she needed a shower and food. She ran home and hired Phil.”
“I know,” Nancie said. “He already checked in. How does Arthur look?”
“Bad,” Helen said. “And our client didn’t tell us everything.”
“They never do,” Nancie said. “What do I need to know?”
“Violet made such a scene in the ICU that security had to escort her out. She accused Blossom of murdering her father.”
“Terrific,” Nancie said. “Blossom could sue our client for slander if she decides to go after Violet.”
“She’ll probably win,” Helen said. “Blossom has looks and charm.”
“Any more bad news?” Nancie asked.
“I’m no doctor, but Arthur looks like he hasn’t much time left. If I hadn’t seen that photo, I wouldn’t believe it was the same man. Blossom said the doctors told her Arthur could die any time now. She had him taken off the ventilator.”
“Like I said, that’s her right as next of kin,” Nancie said.
“Arthur is still breathing on his own, but who knows how long he’ll last,” Helen said.
“I’d better tell Violet,” Nancie said. “If the wife’s not there, she might be able to get in and see her father one last time.”
“Don’t get her hopes up,” Helen said. “The nurse on duty doesn’t like Violet.”
The hospital cafeteria was closed. Helen had a cup of vending machine coffee and a sandwich made with stale bread, gray meat and soapy-tasting cheese. By eight thirty, she was back in the ICU. There was still no sign of Blossom.
“No change in Mr. Zerling,” Nurse Abbott said briskly. Helen saw a golden mound of candy wrappers by her computer. She longed for a chocolate to take away the taste of her awful meal.
Helen settled into the iron embrace of the visitor’s chair and took out her paperback. Miss Marple would have to get her through the night. At eight fifty-five, Helen heard a woman shout, “Please! You have to let me in. I must see my father before it’s too late.” She recognized Violet Zerling’s tearful plea and ran out to see her client arguing with Nurse Abbott.
The two sturdy women stood nose to nose. Violet looked like she was wearing a sackcloth pantsuit. She couldn’t get around the roadblock in scrubs.
“I have my orders, Ms. Zerling,” Nurse Abbott said. “You are not allowed to see Mr. Zerling.”
“But he’s dying,” Violet cried. “I want to see my daddy before he dies. I want to say good-bye.”
Helen stepped between them. Violet backed off. Nurse Abbott didn’t move.
“Please, Nurse, I’m asking as the family minister. Is there any way Violet can visit her father to say good- bye?”
“Orders are orders and she’s not allowed,” Nurse Abbott said. She seemed to savor her power as much as the chocolate.
“You can’t refuse this request,” Helen said.
“I can and I will,” Nurse Abbott said. “This woman disturbed the whole floor last time. She’s banned from the ICU.”
“She’s Arthur’s only child,” Helen said.
“She’s hardly a child,” Nurse Abbott said, and glared at the large woman.
“At least call Mrs. Zerling and ask if she’ll change her mind,” Helen said. “Please.” She watched the nurse punch in the number for Blossom’s cell.
“No answer,” Nurse Abbott said, not bothering to hide her triumph.
“How do I even know you called her?” Violet said.
“Then you try,” Nurse Abbott said.
Helen took out her phone, punched in Blossom’s cell number and heard, “This is Blossom Zerling. Please leave a message.”
“Voice mail,” she reported.
“This is Helen Hawthorne,” she said into her phone. “Violet is at the ICU with me and she wants to say good-bye to her father. I’ll stay with her in the room. Please, in the name of charity, let Violet say good-bye to Arthur.”
“Told you,” the nurse said, her voice triumphant. “Do you want to see Mrs. Zerling’s
Violet opened her mouth, but Helen cut her off. “That’s not necessary.”
