Free Sisterhood by Michael Palmer Page A

together—an unsuccessful attempt at a smile—and shook her head. Huttner smoothed the hair from her forehead and ran his hand over her cheek.
    “Well, your temperature is down near normal today for the first time in a while. I think we might be getting on top of that infection in your chest.” He went on, carefully mixing encouraging news with questions that he knew would be answered negatively. “Is the pain in your back any less?” Another shake. “Well, if things settle down the way I expect them to, we should be able to get that tube out of your nose in a day or two. I know what an annoyance it is. While I have you rolled over like this, let me take a listen to your chest, then I’ll put you on your back and see if there ate any new noises in your belly.”
    He examined her briefly, then glanced at the fluid levels in the intravenous bags and catheter drainage cylinder before kneeling beside her again. “You’re going to make it, Charlotte. You must believe that,” he said with gentle intensity.
    This time Charlotte did manage a rueful smile to accompany her negative response.
    “Please, just be patient, have faith and hang on a little longer,” Huttner implored. “I know the pain you’re going through. In many ways it’s as awful for me as it is for you. But I also know that bit by bit you’re turning the corner. Before you know it, you’ll be putting on lipstick and getting ready to see those beautiful grandchildren you’ve told me so much about.” He paused. In the silence David studied the man’s face. His brows were drawn inward, his jaw taut as a bow string. He seemed to be trying, through sheer will, to transfuse the energy of his words and hope. The woman showed no reaction. “My goodness, I almost forgot,” Huttner said at last. “Charlotte, you are in for a treat. I know how tired you must be getting of seeing my smiling mug every day. Well, you’re going to get a break from that.
    “I’m going off to a conference on the Cape for a few days. This handsome young doctor will be covering forme. He was the chief resident a few years ago at White Memorial. I couldn’t even get accepted for an internship there. His name’s David Shelton.” Huttner motioned David over to the head of the bed.
    David took Huttner’s place, setting his arms on the sheet and resting his chin on them, six inches away from Charlotte’s face. It seemed to take several seconds for her to focus on him.
    “I’m David, Mrs. Thomas. How do you do?” he said, realizing at the same instant that she had already answered his ill-conceived greeting several times. “Is there anything you need right now? Anything I can get for you?” He waited until he felt certain no response was forthcoming, then made a move to stand up. Suddenly Charlotte Thomas reached out a spongy, bruised hand and grasped his with surprising force.
    “Dr. Shelton, please listen to me,” she said in a husky, halting voice that had its own unexpected strength. “Dr. Huttner is a wonderful man and a wonderful doctor. He wants so much to help me. You must make him understand. I do not want to be helped anymore. All I want is to have these tubes taken out and to be kept comfortable until I go to sleep. You must make him understand that. Please. This is torture for me. A nightmare. Make him understand.”
    Her eyes flashed for an instant, then closed. She took several deep breaths and settled heavily back on the pillow. Her breathing slowed. It seemed to David that it might stop altogether, but within a minute a coarse, rhythmic stertor developed and held.
    All David could manage was a whispered, “You’re going to be all right, Mrs. Thomas,” as Huttner took him by the arm and led him out of the room.
    In the hallway the two men faced one another. Huttner was first to break the silence.
    “Quite some night we’ve had for ourselves, yes?” he said, smiling his understanding.
    “Yeah,” David answered. He pawed at the floor with one foot. He