The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [48]
It was a wonderful, lucrative diversion, but The Garden had much, much more in store for Hyacinth. Other flowers blossomed within Doctors Hospital. One of them, Lily, was transplanted from the ranks of The Sisterhood by Janet herself. Soon both women were given other responsibilities, primarily in the area Dahlia referred to as “direct patient contact.” They were no longer bound to Sisterhood cases—euthanasia was not a concern; the new cases had proven more rewarding in every sense. John Chapman and Carl Perry were just two of them.
As Christine rang off, Janet moved toward her. Dahlia had reasoned that after handling a case as traumatic as Charlotte Thomas’s, Beall might be ready. Hyacinth still had strong doubts. She would talk with the woman, but only until her own suspicions were confirmed. Beall would need a few more years of tongue lashings from physicians who, as often as not, were deadly weapons in their own right. She would need a few more thankless Sisterhood cases.
Then she might be ready.
Christine spotted Janet coming and waited.
“It’s done?” Janet asked solemnly. Christine nodded. “Talk for a few minutes?” Again a nod. In silence they walked to the visitors’ lounge. Christine dropped onto the sofa and this time Janet sat next to her.
“It’s never easy, is it?” Janet folded one leg beneath her and watched as Christine picked at a sliver on the edge of the coffee table.
“I’m okay, Janet. Really. I know what I did—what we’re doing—is right. I know how badly Charlotte wanted it to end. Cancer throughout her liver, and Dr. Huttner wanted to keep sticking tubes in her. It was right.” Her voice was strained but under control.
“You’ll get no arguments from me, kid,” Janet said, reaching over and squeezing her hand reassuringly. Christine squeezed back. “It’s just too bad that we’re the ones who have to shoulder all the darn responsibility, that’s all.” Christine responded with a nod and a rueful shrug.
Perhaps Dahlia was right. Janet elected to push a bit further. “All that responsibility, and what do we have to show for it? Nothing.”
Christine spun toward her, eyes flashing. “Janet! What on earth do you mean, nothing?”
Time to retreat, Janet decided. For once in her life, at least, Dahlia had misjudged. Beall’s naive, idealistic flame had not yet been doused. She took pains to meet Christine’s gaze levelly. “I mean that after all these years, after all the hundreds, and now I guess thousands, of Sisterhood recruits, nothing has changed in the attitude of the medical profession.”
“Oh.” Christine relaxed.
“So until things change, we do what we have to do. Right?”
“Right.”
“Listen, Christine. Let’s have dinner sometime soon. We have a lot in common, you and I, but this is hardly the place to discuss our mutual interests. Check your schedule and I’ll check mine. We’ll set something up in the next few days. Okay?”
“Okay. And, Janet, thanks for your concern. I’m sorry I snapped at you. This day’s been a bitch, that’s all.”
Janet smiled warmly. “If you can’t snap at your sister, who can you snap at? Right?”
“Right.”
Janet rose. “I’ve got to get Charlotte taken care of. Her husband left word he won’t be coming in to see her. Call me at home anytime you need to talk.” With a wave she left. At least Dahlia would know she had tried. Beall simply wasn’t ready. Too bad.
Christine returned in time for the end of report. Restless and saturated with nursing and with Boston Doctors Hospital, she stood against a wall until the final patient had been discussed, then left before any of the others. Ahead of her, waiting for the elevator, were Janet and an orderly. Between them, on a litter, lay the sheet-covered body of Charlotte Thomas.
Held fast by the scene and her reflections on it, Christine watched as the litter was maneuvered onto the elevator. Not until the doors had closed was she able to move again.
CHAPTER X
Fox’s Golden Laws of Medicine defined pathologist as “The specialist who learns all by cutting corners