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“It’s fine,” Renie replied.

Judith stared at the mound that was her cousin.

“Look at me,” she demanded.

“I don’t feel good,” Renie said. “Leave me alone.”

“Coz.” Judith’s tone was stern, almost imperious.

“Get out from under there and talk to me. We don’t

keep secrets from each other.”

The mound didn’t move. Judith set down her fork

and folded her arms across her breast. “This cutlet is

quite good. I thought you were starving.”

“I’m not hungry,” Renie mumbled.

SUTURE SELF

221

Judith’s sense of apprehension mounted. “Coz, this

isn’t funny. Talk to me or I’ll . . .” She stopped, aware

that there wasn’t anything she could do to Renie except

get angry or sulk.

At last Renie’s head appeared from under the bedclothes. She propped herself up and regarded Judith

with a pale, drawn face. “Please don’t insist.”

Judith felt something sink in the bottom of her stomach, and it wasn’t the pork cutlet. “Out with it. I can’t

sit here and look at you look at me like that. You know

it’s impossible.”

Shuddering, Renie faced Judith head-on. “You know

Bill—how he has to build up to bad news in his careful, deliberate fashion. Finally, he told me Joe’s been

stabbed. He’s been taken to the hospital, and his

chances are fifty-fifty.”

Judith passed out cold.

FOURTEEN

HEATHER CHINN CAME running. It wasn’t Renie’s insistent buzzer or even her horrified shrieks, but the

sudden change in status on Judith’s monitor at the

nurses’ station.

“What happened?” Heather asked in alarm, seeing Judith’s unconscious figure and ashen face.

“She got some bad news,” Renie replied. “She

fainted.”

Heather began chafing Judith’s wrists and speaking to her in low, encouraging tones. Sister Jacqueline entered the room, followed by Dr. Garnett and

another nurse, who wheeled in some sort of equipment. Renie clung to the edge of her bed, eyes

wide, breathless.

“I didn’t want to . . .” she moaned, but was ignored.

Judith’s eyelids flickered open. “Ohhh . . .” She

tried to recognize the pretty face with the almondshaped eyes. It was someone she knew. Wearing

white, with a cap. A nurse. She must have fainted

during her labor. “The baby,” she gasped. “Is he

okay?”

Apparently, doctor, nurse, and nun weren’t unfamiliar with Judith’s type of reaction.

SUTURE SELF

223

“Everything is fine, Mrs. Flynn,” Dr. Garnett said in

a soft but authoritative voice. “You’ve had hip surgery,

remember?”

“Hip?” Judith was mystified. “What do you mean

‘hip surgery’?”

Dr. Garnett signaled for the nurse to back off with

the resuscitation equipment. “You had a hip replacement. What year is it, Mrs. Flynn?”

Judith looked down at the big dressing on her hip.

“Then I didn’t go into labor?”

“No,” Dr. Garnett replied. “Dr. Alfonso replaced

your right hip.”

At last, Judith grasped the present and tried to sit

bolt upright. But she fell back at once. “Joe!” she cried

in a thin, reedy tone. “What happened to Joe?”

Dr. Garnett, who was wearing surgical scrubs, took

in the puzzled looks of his colleagues.

“It’s her husband,” Renie said, some of the color returning to her ashen face. “He’s had a very bad accident. Mrs. Flynn just found out about it. That’s what

made her faint.”

All eyes were now on Renie. “If you don’t mind, I’d

rather not discuss it in front of everybody,” she said

firmly.

Sister Jacqueline was not put off, however. “Where

is Mr. Flynn? Was he in a car accident?”

Renie was looking mulish, but Judith intervened. “For

God’s sake, coz, tell me. I don’t care who knows what.”

Renie flung out her good hand in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. Joe found out this morning that

another homeless man was murdered yesterday. He

couldn’t start investigating because of the weather, but

he managed to get out this afternoon after he chained

up your car.”

224

Mary Daheim

Though Judith’s gaze was riveted on Renie, she

sensed that the two nurses and Sister Jacqueline were

going into various states of shocked surprise. Renie

never took her eyes off Judith, and continued speaking in her most businesslike voice: “Bill didn’t

know the details, but Joe headed out for a park two

or three blocks from here, which was where the

homeless people moved when it started snowing so

hard. I guess many of them had abandoned that

place under the freeway along with some of their

other usual haunts. The city had opened up some of

the public buildings because of the bad weather.

Anyway, he was trying to question witnesses when

somebody stabbed him in the back. He was able to

stagger out of the park and get the attention of a

man who was shoveling his walk. The guy called

911.”

Tears stung Judith’s eyes. “I knew he was keeping

something from me. I should have guessed . . . Oh, my

God, will he be okay?”

“They notified Bill because both you and Joe have

our phone numbers for emergencies,” Renie said. “Bill

was told that his chances were even. But that’s not bad

odds, coz,” she added, her voice suddenly breaking as

she got out of bed and put her good arm around her

cousin.

Judith fought for control. Despite the tears, she managed to choke out a question. “Where is he?”

It was Dr. Garnett rather than Renie who answered.

“Mr. Flynn is here,” he said. “He’s in the intensive care

unit. I just finished operating on him.”

Peter Garnett explained that he had just been on his

way up to inform Judith about her husband’s stabbing.

SUTURE SELF

225

He hadn’t wanted to alarm her until the surgery was

completed. Because of the weather, all the other hospitals were full. Joe had been rushed to Good Cheer,

which was closest to the park where he was stabbed.

“What do you really think, Doctor?” Judith inquired, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

“I think,” Dr. Garnett responded carefully, “that

we’ll have to wait and see. The blade went very deep,

and there was quite a loss of blood before he reached

the hospital. The good part is that the weapon missed

his vital organs.” He tried to give Judith a smile of

comfort, but his attempt seemed forced. “Nurse Chinn

will get you a sedative,” he said, nodding at Heather. “I

know this has been a terrible shock.”

Sister Jacqueline moved closer to the bed. “I’m very

sorry about all this. I didn’t realize until just now that

Mr. Flynn was your husband. I didn’t see him when he

was brought in. I do know that Father McConnaught

has administered the Sacrament of the Sick. I’m sure

that will help in your husband’s recovery.”

The Sacrament of the Sick, Judith thought, and felt

sick at heart. It used to be Extreme Unction or the Last

Rites, but had been renamed, and in some theological

feat that defied her understanding, revamped as an encouragement to heal rather than as a signal of impending death. On the other hand, she had asked to be

anointed before her own surgery. Maybe Father McConnaught’s efforts wouldn’t be wasted on Joe. She