Free Requiem for Moses by William X. Kienzle Page B

that much about female physiology. “Well, we thought that maybe he lied to us. Lies were mother’s milk to him. Maybe whatever he’d done could be reversed or repaired. Like sometimes tying the tubes can be reversed.…”
    “She was going to go to a gynecologist and have it checked out,” Lacki said.
    “But,” Claire interrupted, “something told me there was a better way. Remember that nurse I mentioned—the one who was so kind to me when I was operated on? She was right there, as far as I know, assisting the doctor. We thought maybe she could tell us exactly what really happened.”
    “Were you able to find her?”
    “Finding her wasn’t so tough,” Lacki said. “Getting her to talk about the operation was another thing. Normally, I guess, a nurse isn’t supposed to talk about things like that … especially to a patient.” Koesler nodded in agreement.
    “But,” Claire added, “I think maybe she felt sorry for me—and probably by this time she’d made a judgment. Still, we had to plead with her for quite a while. We promised her we wouldn’t say anything to anybody. But I think that finally maybe by this time she just was disgusted enough that she was willing to take the chance. And after I explained the trouble we were getting from the Catholic Church, she was definitely sympathetic. I was figuring on that ….” She paused.
    “And?” Koesler prompted.
    “And she told us what happened. She insisted that she could tell us only what she saw, and her interpretation of what the doctor did that day. But she also said that she’d had a lot of experience in the OR—that’s operating room—”
    “He knows that, Claire,” Lacki said. “He watches television … don’t you, Father?”
    “My share.”
    “Well, anyway,” Claire continued, “once she started talking, it was like she couldn’t stop. I guess she just wanted to get it all off her mind. She said that Dr. Green’s way of doing things is like he’s God. Usually he doesn’t say anything to anybody unless there’s a problem or somebody goofs. And then all hell breaks loose. But he never explains what he’s doing or talks to anybody. Actually, Lana said he’s a first-class surgeon, but a fourth-class human being—her words, Father,” she added.
    “Anyway, when he finished removing my uterus, he put it in the dish they have for that. Usually, Lana is the one who takes the organ or tissue or whatever’s amputated, and brings it down to the pathology department for examination and evaluation.
    “But when she reached for the dish, the doctor told her in no uncertain terms to leave it, that he would take it himself.
    “That was enough out of the ordinary for her to take a second look at the organ. She said she was surprised. Not only did it seem to be normal, without any signs of the cancer, but—let me see if I can get her words right on this—’cause it’s important—she said my uterus was ‘enlarged and rich in congested blood supply.’” She paused again.
    “Which means …?”
    “Which means I was pregnant!”
    “Which,” Koesler said, “means the father was …”
    “Moe Green,” Claire supplied.
    Koesler had to pause to absorb the enormity of what he was hearing.
    “I won’t claim,” Claire said, “that I was eligible to crown the Blessed Mother in the May Procession. But once I linked up with Moe, I was faithful to him. He was the father of my baby. He killed his own child.”
    Though she had come to terms with this evil act, tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. Stan patted her shoulder.
    “That nurse—Lana Kushner—said that later that day she tried to check on the pathology report,” Lacki said. “The sample that Green submitted was cancerous. Which could mean that she was wrong—or that the doctor substituted a diseased organ for Claire’s. But she said she really didn’t think she was wrong.
    “Anyway, there’s nothing can be done about it. It was her word against the