Читать книгу Ties That Bind - Marie Bostwick - Страница 18

Everything was upside down.

My dad has always been the impatient one, the person who honks at people who drive even one mile per hour under the speed limit and barks at checkout clerks whose registers run out of tape. But when we got to the hospital and had to wait while an officious woman scanned our identification and attempted, unsuccessfully, to print out our visitor badges, it was my mother who bristled at the delay.

“Our daughter is here, Mariposa Matthews, and our granddaughter, Olivia Matthews,” Mom snapped. “They’ve just brought them in. There was an accident. A serious accident! Why are you keeping us waiting?”

“It’s for your own protection,” the woman replied dully, frowning as she tapped on the computer. “And the protection of the patients.”

“I don’t need to be protected!” My mother’s voice rose to a nearly hysterical pitch. “I need to see my daughter and my grandchild, do you hear me? Right now!”

Dad put his arm around Mom and patted her on the shoulder. “Calm down, Lil. Miss, can’t we leave our identification here with you and get the badges later?”

The woman glanced up at him. For a moment, I thought she was going to waver, but then she pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry, sir. Hospital policy. Every visitor must be cleared through security and wear a badge.”

Philippa, who’d volunteered to come with us while Evelyn and Charlie stayed at my house to clean up, stepped up to the desk and took off her coat, revealing her collar.

“I’m Philippa Clarkson, the new pastor at New Bern Community Church.”

The woman looked up from her keyboard in surprise. “That’s my church. You’re taking over for Reverend Tucker?”

“Just for a few months, until he’s feeling better.”

“I’m sorry, Reverend. I didn’t recognize you. Normally, I never miss services, but I wasn’t able to go today. I’m new here and you know how it is,” she said with a trace of bitterness. “The low man on the totem pole gets stuck working the holiday.”

“That’s all right, Cheryl,” Philippa replied, glancing at her name tag. “It’s good of you to sacrifice your own Christmas celebrations to help people who are going through such a hard time. Do you think it might be possible to let me escort the Matthews family back to the ER? Since I’m a member of the clergy …”

Cheryl bit her lower lip. “I don’t know, Reverend. It’s kind of irregular and, like I said, I’m new here. I went six months without a job before I found this one. I don’t want to risk losing it, but …”

She looked at Philippa and then at my parents, her eyes resting a moment on my mother, who was weeping on Dad’s shoulder.

“Let me check with my supervisor.”

Five minutes later, a tired-looking nurse wearing a cranberry red cardigan and necklace of red, green, and blue Christmas lights ushered us to a waiting room. “Dr. Bledsoe will be right in to talk to you.”

My mother clutched at the nurse’s arm. “Where are they? When can I see them?”

The nurse smiled sympathetically and rubbed her palm over the back of my mother’s hand. “Soon.”

Mom sat down on a beige sofa with her pocketbook in her lap, clutching at the handle, her back stiff and eyes alert, as though she were waiting for a bus and was afraid she might miss it. Dad sat down next to her, but she seemed not to notice.

“Perhaps I should go find somewhere else to wait,” Philippa said, looking at me uncertainly.

“No,” my father said hoarsely. He glanced at my mother, who was staring straight ahead. “If you don’t mind, Reverend,” Dad said, looking up at Philippa, “I’d appreciate it if you could stay with us for a while. At least until the doctor comes.”

Philippa nodded and sat down in a chair across from my parents.

I hesitated before following the others through the door. Sensing a presence, I looked down the hall to see a man with gray hair and black-rimmed glasses who was taking off a blood-spattered lab coat while the nurse in the cranberry sweater stood behind, holding out a clean one, guiding his arms into the left sleeve, then the right, before nodding her head toward me, toward me and the door of the room I dreaded to enter.