Sisterhood by Michael Palmer Read Free Book Online

ringing before she could answer it, yet at teh same time worried that it might. She hesitated, then grabbed the receiver, reaching into her pocket for the pages of notes on Charlotte Thomas. Somehow she knew with total certainty that the call was for her.
    The voice was a woman’s, stern with perhaps that hint of an accent. “I am calling Miss Christine Beall, a nurse on this floor.”
    “This is Christine Beall,” she said, swallowing against the dryness that had reappeared in her mouth.
    “Miss Beall, my name is Evelyn. I am calling in answer to your message of earlier this afternoon. I represent the New England Regional Screening Committee.”
    With darting, fawnlike eyes, Christine scanned the corridor. Dalrymple had gone. There were people, staff and visitors, but none within earshot. “I … I have a case I wish to present for evaluation and recommendation,” she stammered, not quite certain she remembered the prescribed order in which their conversation was to proceed.
    “Very well,” the woman said. “I shall be taking notes, so please speak slowly and clearly. I won’t interrupt unless I feel it is absolutely essential to do so. Please begin.”
    Christine’s hands were shaking as she set the notes in front of her. Thirty seconds passed during which her thoughts and emotions were racing so fast she was unable to speak. Charlotte wants so much to have it end, she reasoned, it must be right. It has to be right. Somewhere deep inside her, though, a kernel of doubt lingered. She was able to begin only after convincing herself that, even if the case were approved, she could always change her mind.
    “The patient in question is Mrs. Charlotte Thomas,” she said in a slow, factual monotone that she hoped would mask the quiver in her voice. “She is a sixty-year-old white woman, a registered nurse. On September eighteenth she had a Miles’s resection and colostomy for cancer of the colon. Since her surgery, she has not done well at all. I have known Mrs. Thomas since her diagnostic admission in August and have spent many hours talking with her both before and after her operation. She has always been a vigorous, active, athletic woman and has told me on several occasions that she could never face life as an invalid or crippled by pain.As recently as this past July, she was working full time for a home health agency.”
    Christine sensed that she was rambling. Her hands were wet and cold. She had known it wouldn’t be easy. Peg had told her this morning that it shouldn’t be. Still, she had not expected this kind of tension. And this was only the initial case report. What if they approved? What if she actually had to …
    “Miss Beall, you may continue,” Evelyn said. At that instant Christine heard footsteps close by. Panicked, she whirled to face the noise. “Miss Beall? Are you there?” Evelyn asked.
    Dotty Dalrymple was standing a few feet away. My God, what’s happening, Christine thought. Has she heard?
    “Miss Beall,
are you there
?” The voice was more insistent.
    Her knuckles whitened around the receiver. “Oh, ah, yes, Aunt Evelyn,” she managed, “hold on for a minute, can you? My nursing director is here.” She set her arm down on the counter of the booth. Even then she could feel it shaking.
    “Christine, are you all right?” Dalrymple said in a tone that seemed too bland, too matter-of-fact. “You look a little pale.”
    How much explanation does she want? Christine wondered. How much of a lie? “Oh, no, I’m fine, Miss Dalrymple. It’s my aunt. My Aunt Evelyn.”
    Dalrymple shrugged. “As long as you’re all right. You nearly jumped out of your skin when the phone rang before. Then, when you didn’t come back, I became concerned that perhaps something had …”
    Christine cut her off with a laugh that felt far too forced. “No, everything is fine. It’s … my uncle. He had an operation today and I was waiting to hear. Everything’s fine.” Lies, one after another.