Free Suture Self by Mary Daheim Page A

getting better, then…” She held up her small hands. “Poof! They go to heaven.”
    â€œIt must be very sad for you,” Judith said, “to see these people and their families and then to have them die so unexpectedly. I suppose all their loved ones were extremely shocked. Did anybody say what might have happened?”
    Maya waved a hand in a vexed gesture. “They say too little and too much. The doctors, they don’t understand what happens. Not their fault, they say. Can’t explain. Maybe patient have unknown sickness or takebad medicine. The families, they cry, they make threats, they blame doctors, nurses, everybody in hospital. Why, right now, Mr. Kirby, the husband of the actress, he’s here again, making the big fuss.” Maya shook her head. “What is fame, what is riches, if you die too soon? So sad, so very sad.”
    â€œMr. Somosa left a wife, but no children, I believe,” put in Renie as Maya delivered her tray. “The Kirby children are grown, and I guess the Randall kids are, too.”
    Maya nodded several times. “Yes. Mrs. Somosa, so pretty, so young, she had to be put in the hospital herself, she was so filled with grief. Now she has gone back to her homeland, the Dominican Republic, I believe. Mr. Somosa was buried there, with his ancestors. The Kirby children I never saw, they live far away, but they must have come for the funeral, yes? And now Mr. Randall…Oh, my! Mrs. Randall, she will be in the hospital, too, if she doesn’t stop crying so.”
    â€œMaybe the children can help,” Judith said. “I understand they’re at the hospital now.”
    Maya’s dark eyes flashed. “That’s so.” She put a finger to her lips. “Know what? They are with Mr. Kirby. Why do you think?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Judith said.
    â€œI do,” Maya said with an emphatic nod. “They talk of a cabal.”
    Judith stared. “A cabal? What sort of cabal?”
    â€œA plot to kill these poor souls,” Maya declared with a swift glance over her shoulder to make sure the door was firmly shut. “What else?”
    Judith made an extra effort to look impressed. “Who would do such a thing?”
    Maya waved her hand again. “The riffraff. The rabble. The kind of people who hate the rich and famous. Communists, no doubt. It’s what you call a vendetta.” She clenched a fist and made stabbing motions, as if she held a dagger.
    The door opened suddenly and Heather Chinn appeared, looking suspicious. “Your lunch cart is outside, Maya,” said the nurse. “Is everything all right in here?”
    â€œYes, yes,” Maya said, smiling, her compact little figure all but bouncing toward the doorway. “These fine ladies, they need what you call the pep talk. You know Maya, she can give the good pep talk.”
    Heather stepped aside as Maya made her exit. “I hope she wasn’t pestering you,” Heather said to the cousins, a faintly wary expression lingering on her face. “Maya’s quite a talker.”
    â€œShe’s interesting,” Judith said.
    â€œYes,” Heather agreed, turning to leave, “but don’t pay much attention to her. She likes to hear herself talk.”
    The nurse departed, closing the door behind her. “Well?” Judith said. “How much of Maya’s spiel do you believe?”
    â€œNone of it,” Renie replied, lifting lids and looking dismayed. “It seems we have bath sponge for lunch.”
    Judith also examined the meal. Everything was a pale yellow, including the lettuce leaves in the salad. “It might be some kind of creamed chicken on…something. Toast?” Judith prodded the gelatinous mass with her fork. “Hunh. Whatever. We also have pears, more apple juice, and a big, fat, unattractive cookie with jaundice-yellow frosting. No wonder I don’t have much