See Also Deception by Larry D. Sweazy Page B

annoyed with her, but I would have to control my temper, or at least swallow it. I feared telling Betty off, for no other reason than alienating and upsetting Jaeger. I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t take too kindly to someone yelling at his girlfriend. Not even me. And I needed him more now than ever before. I would be lost without Jaeger Knudsen looking after our farm.
    I wheeled the truck into the hospital parking lot, squealing the tires on the turn. I’m sure that wasn’t uncommon at the Castle of Life and Death—that’s what the six-story red brick building with the green slate-tile roof looked like to me, an old musty castle with a terrible dungeon inside. It was only missing the spires and cathedral roof.
    I feared that Hank would be dead by the time I arrived, and I would be left with the guilt of him dying without me at his side. I’d promised him I would be there no matter what. I’m sorry, I was at the Wild Pony, consoling Herbert Frakes instead of looking after you . I didn’t want to have to live with that.
    Of all that could happen to hasten Hank’s demise, I think I feared pneumonia the most. It was an invisible killer that always seemed to be lurking just outside our bedroom door, waiting like a snake in the grass for just the right time to strike. And it looked like it had waited until I left, until I wasn’t there to shoo it away, cut its head off once and for all. Warding off pneumonia was out of my power.
    I should have never left him with Betty Walsh  . . .
    It didn’t matter to me that St. Joseph’s was the tallest building in Dickinson. To me, at that moment, it was the only building in Dickinson.
    I parked in the closest spot I could find and hurried inside the door marked EMERGENCY. I whizzed past two nuns in full black habits without acknowledging them. They looked at me in unison, with a glare that I didn’t care to understand, and kept on walking.
    A dainty older woman, with hair as silver as a brand new car bumper looked up from a crossword puzzle as I hurried to the information desk. I knew her. She was a cousin to Burlene Standish. Her name was Olga Olafson, and she had a similar reputation as Burlene when it came to being interested in all of the gossip that went on about town. I was in no mood for idle chitchat.
    â€œI was a wonderin’ where you were, Marjorie,” Olga said. She had on a white crocheted sweater that looked like it had just been bought at the church bazaar. It was buttoned all the way to the top, pinching the wrinkles that had come naturally with age on her throat. With her glasses and pursed lips, she looked like an old fish about to exhale or explode, I couldn’t tell which. She smelled of prune juice and moth balls.
    â€œHank’s here then?” I said.
    Olga nodded. Her glasses had a chain on the shafts just like Calla’s always had. A pang of recognition flickered in the pit of my stomach.
    â€œCame in with that Knudsen boy. Doc Huddleston just came in, too. Must’ve got the call that Hank was dire.”
    Dire? “He was fine when I left home.” I glanced at a set of double doors marked NO ADMITTANCE that I’d passed through more than once and knew that Hank was in one of three emergency bays. “Which one’s he in?”
    â€œOh, I can’t let you just wander back there, Marjorie. I have to call first and get permission. New rules. The sisters don’t want just anyone walking in and out. There’s awful things goin’ on from time to time back there. You don’t know what you might see, and it would be a sin for them to inflict any undue suffering on you. You have to sign in, too.” Olga produced a clipboard with a log on it. “Print your name and then sign it. I’ll call back and let them know you’re here.”
    I took the clipboard but made no effort to pick up the pen that was on the front lip of Olga’s