Free Escapement by Rene Gutteridge Page A

eyes were a little too round. She slowly nodded.
    I looked at the watch, still in my hand. It was plainly missing numbers.
    “Mattie, there is a chance that you’re having a delusion here.”
    “So now I’m fat and delusional?” I laughed one of those laughs that scares young children. “Perfect. Well, the better to kill you with, my dear.”
    “Don’t you see?” Rosemary said. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. Sometimes our minds can’t handle it all.”
    “Maybe you should talk to my split personality about that,” I snapped.
    “Mattie, this may be your mind’s way of dealing with tremendous loss,” Abbott said. “It’s convinced you your time has run out because you don’t want to live anymore but you don’t want to kill yourself either.”
    Rosemary nodded eagerly.
    “Yes, well, nice try. But I’m still going to murder you.”
    “Mattie . . . ,” Rosemary said.
    But Abbott raised his hand. “You heard the man, Rosemary. There’s no use trying to change his mind.”
    I cast a sharp look toward Abbott. “You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”
    Suddenly a tear rolled down his cheek. “This is no way to live,” he said quietly. “I just want to go. I have nothing left on this earth.”
    “You have me,” Rosemary said gently. She went and knelt by him, holding his hand. Well, I guess that’s one way to win friends . . . die horribly and gain the sympathies of the hospice nurse.
    “How do you do this?” I asked Rosemary. When I worked as a nurse, there was always hope they’d live. This was so different. “How do you get so close to someone when you know they’re going to die? I mean, don’t all your patients die?”
    “Yes, they do. But I want them to know how much God loves them. And what there is for them on the other side. It’s the job God has for me. It’s not always easy, but I’ve seen God work in extraordinary ways, and his timing continues to amaze me. What are the chances that Abbott is a psychologist and you’re having a nervous breakdown?”
    I couldn’t help it. The glare just morphed my face. I could feel it. Rosemary looked like she wished her filters had been in place.
    “I’m not having a nervous breakdown,” I said calmly, like before-the-storm calm.
    “Of course. I’m sorry, Mattie. I sometimes don’t think before I speak. I get kind of excited when I see God working.”
    “God working?” I angrily waved my hand between the three of us. “How, exactly, is God working here? He’s rotting away. I’m going to murder him and then either die or get arrested for murder. And you’re kind of at risk for being collateral damage. Cue the harps.”
    “God works in mysterious ways,” Rosemary said. “But that’s neither here nor there. The point I’m trying to make, Mattie, is that God loves you. And if you’ve only got forty minutes left in your life, then that’s what he’ll work with. Forty minutes.”
    “You’re cheery. My Beth is cheery. I’m kind of a sad sack of a human, but Beth, she likes to skip. Who likes to skip?” I didn’t know why I was babbling about Beth and skipping. Things were just spilling out.
    “How are you going to explain this to Beth, Mattie?” Rosemary asked.
    “I’m not. You are.”
    She looked sad as she seemed to imagine how that conversation would go. I kind of felt sad about it too. Sure, Beth had been threatening divorce, but I knew she didn’t mean it. That’s why I wouldn’t sign the papers. Then she was going to get a phone call. From a total stranger named Rosemary, who, though a kindred spirit in the happy department, would be delivering some awful news. Not only was I dead, but I’d killed someone in the process. How was she going to fathom that? I can’t even kill the mice in our condo.
    I looked at Rosemary. “You need to explain to Beth, when you call, that Abbott was a horrible person. Okay? Make sure she knows that I didn’t kill the archbishop of decency. Mention he made fun