that
looked too heavy for its arm. “That’s my Katie.” Her vague smile
faded and died. “But what’s this, darling?” She reached for the
scarf tied around her neck, and Kate cursed herself for loosening
it in her pique at Alex English.
Quickly reaching for her mother’s hand, Kate
drew it away from the scarf. “It’s nothing, Ma. Just a piece of my
costume. I guess I forgot to take it off.”
Her mother’s troubled eyes told Kate that
Hazel didn’t believe her. “Kate, if Herbert did that—”
”Ma, I’m fine.” Kate made her voice go hard,
as if with irritation at Hazel’s prying. “It’s nothing.”
Mrs. Finney stared at her daughter with eyes
that told Kate she knew exactly what had happened. “Oh, Katie. My
precious Katie. Don’t let him hurt you, Kate. Please.”
Kate knew that if her mother wasn’t so weak,
she’d rise from the cot and try to tackle the world for her
children. Fighting the world and Herbert Finney for her children’s
sake was what had ruined her health.
“Nuts, Ma. It’s nothing. Honest. You just
stop thinking like that. Here, Take some water.” Kate knew the
these spasms left her mother weak and thirsty. “I’ll lift your
head.”
With a sigh, Hazel Finney gave up. “Thank
you, Katie. You’re the best daughter anyone ever had.”
“Nuts.” As ever, Kate swallowed the bitter
tears clogging her throat as she poured water from a cracked
pitcher into a cracked glass standing on the table beside the cot.
Then she very carefully lifted her mother’s head and raised the
glass to her mother’s mouth. Hazel drank a few sips before her eyes
closed and Kate could tell she was too exhausted even to drink more
water. Without speaking, she lowered Hazel’s head to the
pillow.
“Thank you, Katie,” Hazel whispered without
opening her eyes.
“Sure thing, Ma. I’m going to talk to the
nurses now. You tell me if they don’t treat you right, you
hear?”
Without opening her eyes, Hazel managed a
gurgling laugh. “They treat me fine, Katie. You just don’t worry
about me.”
Fat chance. Kate wouldn’t
say so. Rather, she squeezed her mother’s hand, rose from her
kneeling position, and squared her shoulders. Feeling rather as she
expected knights of old felt when preparing to go off to war, she
marched back down the row of cots in search of the nurses. Kate
knew they didn’t pay much attention to charity cases. Why should
they? But she wasn’t going to let them get away with
ignoring her mother.
Chapter Three
Alex had never been to this wing of the huge
hospital. He’d visited friends at Saint Mildred’s occasionally, and
once or twice had visited on behalf of an agricultural charity or
benevolent association. He’d donated lots of money to the hospital,
but he hadn’t actually observed the ward at which his charitable
donations had been hurled.
The cold walls, which had once been painted
white and which were now fading to a creamy yellow, made him
shiver. The hospital board hadn’t wasted any pretty scenic prints
on these walls. And there was no flutter of nurses eager to be of
service to the patients. There were no flowers, no boxes of
chocolates, no baskets of fruit, no pretty dressing gowns. For that
matter, there were no rooms.
When he opened the door to Ward 3B, in fact,
all he saw were several straight rows of small, cheap cots, each
one filled with a huddled form. The room wasn’t quiet, as he
expected a hospital room to be. Rather, moans and coughs and sobs
greeted his ears. He saw one white-clad form bending over a cot
what seemed like half a mile away, and he took the form for one of
the nursing sisters.
With a feeling of impending contamination,
Alex steeled himself and ventured forth into the room. It seemed to
take him forever to reach the nurse. He tried not to look at the
people on the cots, but he couldn’t help himself.
Looking was a mistake. Alex had never been
this close to utter desperation and hopelessness before. He
Learning to Kill: Stories