the station.
She slammed her hands on her hips. “For what?”
A” “You have no right.”
Actually, I do. And the only reason you’re still on the case is
through my good graces. Dr. Eves admires your technical skills but
your attitude’s getting on her nerves, as well.”
“Right.”
I picked up the phone. “Call her.”
She sucked in her breath. Touched her cap. Licked her lips.
“What do you want from me?” Trace of whine.
“Not out here,” I said. “In there, Vicki. Please.”
She started to protest. No words came out. A tremor surged across her
lips. She put a hand up to cover it.
“Lets just drop it,” she said. “I’m sorry, okay?”
Her eyes were full of fear. Remembering her final view of her son and
feeling like a louse, I shook my head.
“No more hassles,” she said. “I promise–I really mean it this time. You’re right, I shouldn’t have mouthed off Its because I’m worried
about her, same as you. I’ll be fine. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Please, Vicki.” I pointed to the nurses room.
I swear. Come on, cut me a little slack.”
1 held my ground.
She moved toward me, hands fisted, as if ready to strike. Then she
dropped them. Turned suddenly, and walked to the room. Moving slowly,
shoulders down, barely lifting her shoes from the carpet.
The room was furnished with an orange Naugahyde couch and matching
chair, and a coffee table. A phone sat on the table next to an
unplugged coffee maker that hadn’t been used or cleaned in a long
time.
cat and puppy posters were taped to the wall above a bumper sticker
that read NURSES DO IT WITH TENDER LOVING CARE.
I closed the door and sat on the couch.
“This stinks,” she said, without conviction. “You have no right I am
calling Dr. Eves.”
I picked up the phone, called the page operator and asked for
Stephanie.
Wait,” she said. Hang up.” I canceled the page and replaced the
receiver. She did a little toeheel dance, finally sank into the chair,
fiddling with her cap, both feet flat on the ground. I noticed
something I hadn’t seen before: a tiny daisy drawn in nail polish
marker, on her new badge, just above her photo. The polish was
starting to flake and the flower looked shredded.
She put her hands in her spreading lap. A condemned-prisoner look
filled her face.
“I have work to do,” she said. “Still have to change the sheets, check
to make sure Dietary gets the dinner order right.”
“The nurse in New Jersey,” I said. “What made you bring that up?”
“Still on that?”
I waited.
“No big deal,” she said. “I told you, there was a book and I read it,
that’s all. I don’t like to read those kinds of things usually, but
someone gave it to me, so I read it. Okay?”
She was smiling, but suddenly her eyes had filled with tears. She
flailed at her face, trying to dry it with her fingers. I looked
around the room. No tissues. My handkerchief was clean and I gave it
to her.
She looked at it, ignored it. Her face stayed wet, mascara tracing
black cat-scratches through the impasto of her makeup.
“Who gave you the book?” I said.
Her face clogged with pain. I felt as if I’d stabbed her.
“It had nothing to do with Cassie. Believe me.”
Okay. What exactly did this nurse do?”
“Poisoned babies-with lidocaine. But she was no nurse.
Nurses love kids. Real nurses.” Her eyes shifted to the bumper
sticker on the wall and she cried harder.
When she stopped, I held out the handkerchief again. She pretended it
wasn’t there. “What do you want from me?”
“Some honesty-” About what?”
All the hostility I’ve been getting from you-” “I said I was sorry
about that.”
“I don’t need an apology, Vicki. My honor isn’t the issue and we don’t
have to be buddies make talky-talk. But we do have to communicate well
enough to take care of Cassie. And your behaviors getting in the
way.”
“I disag-” “It is, Vicki. And I know it can’t be anything I’ve said or