Van Boeck hadn’t chosen this place for her announcement.”
“It does seem like an odd venue,” Judith remarked.
“Does she have a reason?”
“Does she need a reason?” Sister Jacqueline retorted, then gave herself a little shake. “Sorry. That was
unkind, especially given that Mrs. Van Boeck has always been such a big supporter of Good Cheer. The
truth is, the auditorium is being painted. The workers
just got started Monday, and then weren’t able to come
back after it began snowing. And it’s too cold and
draughty to hold the press conference in the foyer.”
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275
“Not to mention,” Renie put in, “that I suspect
Blanche enjoys the cozy atmosphere of a more intimate setting.”
“A more neutral setting as well,” Sister Jacqueline
said, then again looked rueful. “The foyer, the auditorium, so many other places in the hospital feature religious symbols. If Mrs. Van Boeck is going to run for
mayor, she has to appeal to a broad range of voters, the
majority of whom aren’t Catholic.”
“So she’s going to announce her candidacy today,
right?” Renie whispered as, down in the alcove, Blanche
raised her hands for silence.
Sister Jacqueline shot Renie a swift, puzzled glance.
“I’m not certain. Maybe she’ll do that later, downtown.”
Judith gave the nun a puzzled look, but there was no
opportunity for further questions. Blanche was beginning to speak, her strong, sharp voice carrying easily
without a microphone.
“I’ll keep my remarks brief,” Blanche said, her expression somber. “I appreciate your efforts in coming
out in this winter weather. I know it wasn’t easy getting here.” She paused, her gaze resting on her husband, who stood a little apart from the rest of the
crowd. “As of February first of this year, Good Cheer
Hospital will be taken over by Restoration Heartware
of Cleveland, Ohio.”
A gasp went up from the crowd in the hallway.
Hardened journalists they might be, but Blanche’s
statement wasn’t what they’d expected. Judith gasped
right along with them, then turned to Sister Jacqueline.
“Did you know this was coming?” she asked of the
nun.
“Yes.” Sister Jacqueline kept staring straight ahead,
in Blanche’s direction.
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Mary Daheim
“This,” Blanche continued, “is a very difficult time
for those of us who have been associated with Good
Cheer. We are all very grateful to the sisters who
founded this hospital almost a century ago. Their dedication to physical, emotional, and spiritual health has
been unparalleled in this region. Fortunately, the order
still has hospitals in other cities, and will continue to
administer Good Cheer’s retirement and nursing
homes.”
Blanche drew in a deep breath. “This is a sad day for
us, but we are not without hope. The state of medicine in
this country is pitiful, and universal health care has been
only a dream for the past fifty-odd years. It’s time to stop
talking about it, and act. Therefore, I intend to run for
Congress in the upcoming election. Health care will be
the issue—my only issue. Thank you very much.”
Blanche stepped down amid more gasps from her
audience. She moved quickly through the crowd to her
husband’s side. A few yards away, Dr. Garnett glared
at the couple. Sister Jacqueline had bowed her head
and appeared to be praying.
“Well.” Renie was fingering her chin and observing
the reporters who were pressing in on the Van Boecks.
Dr. Garnett had turned away and was coming down the
hall toward the cousins. He stopped when he spotted
Sister Jacqueline.
“Courage,” he said, touching the nun’s arm. “You
know that you and the other sisters share no blame in
this disaster.” He nodded in the direction of the Van
Boecks, who were trying to escape the media. “If there
are villains other than governmental ineptitude, there
they are.”
Sister Jacqueline gave Dr. Garnett a bleak look.
“What’s the use of blame? It’s over.”
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277
Dr. Garnett said nothing. He merely patted Sister
Jacqueline’s hand, offered her a small, tight smile, and
walked away.
“Courage?” the nun echoed bitterly. “What good is
courage? You can’t fight the Devil when you can’t see
him.”
As Sister Jacqueline started to turn away, Judith
called her name. “My condolences,” she said. “There
are many of us in the community who will be sorry to
see the Order of Good Cheer relinquish the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Sister Jacqueline replied, her voice
devoid of life.
“A question,” Judith went on. “A very minor question. Do you know who brought Bob Randall the balloons and cutout of him in his playing days?”
“No,” the nun replied without interest. “Sister Julia
at the front desk would know. She was on duty Monday night. Why do you ask?”
An embarrassed expression flitted across Judith’s
face. “Oh—ah, my cousin thought she recognized him
as one of her children’s old high school chums. How
do I get in touch with Sister Julia?”
“You don’t,” Sister Jacqueline replied. “She started
making a private retreat in the convent Tuesday morning. Sister can’t be reached until Sunday afternoon. It’s
a shame, since I wish I could tell her that not all of her
prayers were answered.” Shoulders slumped, the nun
left the cousins and headed for the stairwell.
As the Van Boecks disappeared around the corner at
the far end of the hall, Renie reversed Judith’s wheelchair and pushed her cousin back into their room. “Did
Sister Julia volunteer for the retreat or did somebody
give her an order—excuse the pun.”
“I think your imagination may be running away with
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Mary Daheim
you,” Judith said. “I’m sure the retreat was Sister
Julia’s idea, but her isolation is inconvenient. And what
did Sister Jacqueline mean by fighting the Devil?”
“Restoration Heartware?” Renie suggested as
Corinne Appleby came into the room. “Or a certain individual?”
“Time for your shower,” Corinne announced with
forced cheer. “Good, you’re ready to go,” she added,
indicating the wheelchair. “Shall we?”
Judith had no choice. Renie volunteered to go along
and take her own shower. As they reentered the hall,
the journalists were dispersing. Snatches of conversation could be heard as they passed down the hall
toward the elevators.
“. . . Funny stuff going on around here . . .” “. . . Hey,
I intend to keep my job . . .” “Congress, huh? Why not,
she’s no bigger windbag than they already . . .”
At the rear of the group, Judith spotted Mavis LeanBrodie. She was standing outside Addison Kirby’s
room. “Kirby!” Judith heard Mavis exclaim as the
KINE-TV anchorwoman saw the newspaper reporter’s
name posted by the door. Mavis galloped across the
threshold and disappeared.
“What’s going on?” Judith heard Mavis demand as
Corinne pushed the wheelchair down the hall. “Are
you a prisoner in this place or what?”
Judith hit the brake, catching Corinne off balance.
The nurse almost fell over the top of the wheelchair.