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his confidence because you need a distraction. That’s

how I figure it, anyway.”

“What?” Judith stared blankly at her cousin.

“Because you’re so worried about Joe,” Renie said.

“Besides, Margie Randall isn’t Bill’s patient anymore.

Not to mention the fact that Margie’s husband has been

murdered.”

“Get on with it,” Judith said between clenched teeth.

“According to Margie, Bob had been an extremely

stern, demanding father,” Renie said. “The obituary the

family put together wasn’t too far off the mark. In consequence, the kids rebelled. Nancy has been fighting a

drug addiction and Bob Jr., who is gay, was tested for

HIV.”

“Good Lord!” Judith cried. “Those poor kids! And

poor Margie!”

Renie nodded. “It’s awful. But Bill didn’t know

what the results of the HIV test were because Margie

quit seeing him about that time. It seems that Bob Sr.

left quite a legacy—and it’s not in dollars and cents.”

“Not in common sense, either,” Judith murmured.

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Mary Daheim

“He doesn’t seem to have been a very good father. I

guess he wasn’t much of a husband, either. Of course

you can’t blame him for everything. That is, children

can make choices. But to rebel, they often choose

the—” Judith stopped speaking as Margie Randall all

but pranced into the room.

“No matter what happens,” she said in a chipper

voice, “we don’t want to be glum, do we?”

“What?” Judith gasped.

“Life can be hard, so it’s not always easy to endure

what fate has in store for us,” Margie said, all smiles.

“Just tell me about Joe,” Judith said as apprehension

overcame her.

“I will,” Margie replied. “If you think you can take

it.”

Judith swallowed hard, and said she could.

SEVENTEEN

“I FOUND MR. FLYNN,” Margie Randall announced

with a triumphant expression.

“Oh!” Judith clenched her hands. “How is he?”

Margie simpered a bit. “Doing rather well,” she said

in a tone that indicated she was taking some of the

credit. “He’s expected to recover.”

Judith sagged against the pillows. “I’m so relieved! When can I see him?”

“Well . . .” Margie frowned, chin on hand, fingers

tapping her cheek. “That’s a different matter. He’s

not allowed visitors.”

“But,” Judith protested, “I’m not a visitor, I’m his

wife!”

Margie shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. Dr.

Van Boeck is back at work today, and he makes the

rules. I’m sure it’s all for your husband’s good. He

mustn’t be disturbed.”

“Can I call his room?” Judith asked.

“No,” Margie replied. “There’s no phone. Tomorrow, perhaps. Time is the best healer.” Again, her expression changed, radiating joy. “I must dash. My

brother-in-law has just gotten the most amazing

news. I must be with him.”

Margie fairly flew out of the room.

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Mary Daheim

“Damn!” Judith breathed. “I know I should be elated

that Joe’s better, but I wanted so much to see him. I

wonder if Margie’s right about the no-visitors rule?”

“It makes sense, in a way,” Renie said. “After all,

he’s just turned the corner and he probably has to stay

completely quiet.”

“I guess.” Judith heaved a big sigh, then turned to

Renie. “Goodness, I hadn’t thought about it until now,

but how are Joe and I going to manage when we both

get discharged? Neither of us will be in any shape to

help the other, let alone take charge of the B&B. I can’t

expect the Rankerses to keep pitching in.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Renie cautioned. “If

things get really desperate, won’t the state B&B association help you out?”

“Yes,” Judith answered slowly, “they have backup

personnel. But I’d hate to avail myself of it. Besides,

I’d go nuts watching somebody else run Hillside

Manor.”

“Relax,” Rene urged. “We’ve got other things to

worry about. Like our recovery. And Joe’s. Not to

mention Bill’s mental state.”

“Did he mention the Chihuahuas this morning?” Judith inquired, trying to stop fussing.

“No,” Renie said. “He was too involved with the car

disaster and the Randall kids.” She paused, gazing out

the window. “Hey—the icicles are dripping. Maybe

it’s finally beginning to thaw.”

“It’s certainly sunny enough,” Judith said, then gave

a start as a loud whirring noise could be heard from

somewhere. “What’s that? I don’t recognize it as a routine hospital sound.”

The whirring grew louder, making Renie wince. “I

don’t know. I think it’s coming from outside,” she said,

SUTURE SELF

269

her voice rising to be heard over the noise as she got

out of bed and went to the window. “Good grief!” she

cried. “It’s a helicopter! It looks as if it’s going to land

on the roof!”

“An emergency, I’ll bet,” Judith shouted. “Someone

has been flown in from an outlying site.”

“What?” Renie watched as the copter disappeared

from her view. The whirring died down a bit. “Did you

say an emergency?”

“What else?” Judith said. “An accident, I suppose.”

The whirring resumed almost at once. Renie gaped

as the helicopter reappeared and began ascending over

the parking area. “It’s leaving. What did they do, throw

the patient onto the roof?”

Judith frowned. “I suppose they can make the transfer really fast,” she said. “But that was really fast.”

Too fast,” Renie muttered, heading back to bed.

She’d just gotten back under the covers when Dr. Ming

appeared.

“I hear you’ve been a very active patient,” the surgeon remarked with an off-center grin. “You aren’t

wearing yourself out, are you, Mrs. Jones?”

“Me?” Renie gave the doctor a sickly smile. “I don’t

want to get weak.”

“You won’t,” Dr. Ming assured her. “What’s making

you run all around the hospital?”

“Oh—this and that,” Renie replied vaguely. “For example—what was with that helicopter just now?”

Dr. Ming was examining Renie’s shoulder. “That’s

coming along just fine. Your busy little ways haven’t

done any visible damage.” He paused, moving Renie’s

wrist this way and that. “Helicopter? Oh, that was a

transplant delivery. We don’t usually get them here

since we do only orthopedic work. But with the snow,

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Mary Daheim

this week has been different. We’ve had to take on

some exceptional cases.”

“Transplant?” Renie said. “What kind?”

“I’m not sure,” Dr. Ming replied. “Does this hurt?”

he inquired, bending Renie’s arm toward her body.

“Not much,” she answered. “Heart, maybe?”

“Heart?” Dr. Ming frowned. “Oh—the transplant. I

don’t think so. We couldn’t do that here at all. What I

suspect is that the organ was flown in along with the

surgeon. None of our doctors could handle a transplant. We aren’t trained for that kind of specialty.” He

patted Renie’s lower arm. “You’re coming along just

fine. Want to visit the physical therapist and then go