He tore it open, found a single sheet of paper inside. Gaynor had written the following:
Didn’t feel safe leaving money in trash. Have different plan for delivery. Call me.
FORTY-SIX
AGNES tapped lightly on the hospital room door before entering. She found Marla sitting up in bed, sipping some tea from her breakfast tray.
“Haven’t they taken that away yet?” Agnes asked.
“They came by, but I told them I was still working on it,” Marla said. “The tea is cold, but that’s okay.”
“I’ll call down, tell them to bring you some hot.”
“No, please, Mom. I know that whatever you ask them to do, they’ll jump, but I just want to be treated like any other patient.”
Agnes smiled. “You’re not just any other patient. You’re my daughter. And if there was ever a time when I was willing to throw my weight around, it’s now.” She rested a hand on her daughter’s bare arm, inches above her bandaged wrist. “But the truth is, I’m getting you out of here. You’re better off at home than here. It’s a good hospital—no, it’s a great hospital, no matter how some sons of bitches want to rank it—but you’re better off with us.”
“I’d like that,” Marla said weakly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay. The doctor—not Dr. Sturgess, but the psychiatrist?—was in to see me a while ago, and he’s going to give me something.”
“I know. I already have that sorted. Do you feel like you’re going to do anything like that again?”
Marla shook her head. “No, I don’t. I just felt, you know, overwhelmed by everything that was happening at the moment. But the prescription, it’s supposed to help with that.” She put a hand on top of her mother’s. “Really, I won’t do it again.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay, then,” Agnes said cautiously. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Carol was in to see me,” Marla said. “I really like her.”
“I’m lucky to have her. She told me this morning that she’s very worried about you.”
Marla nodded. “That’s what she said. Even though I’ve only met her a few times, she really seems to like me.”
“What about Dr. Sturgess? Has he been in to check on you?”
Marla shook her head. “I haven’t seen him all day.”
“No? Are you sure you hadn’t just nodded off or something?”
“I’m pretty sure. I mean, I’ve been sleepy, but I don’t think he was here.”
Agnes took out her cell phone, called up a contact, tapped. She put the phone to her ear.
“I always thought you weren’t supposed to use a cell phone in the hospital,” Marla said.
“In my hospital, I can do whatever I damn well please. You— Damn, it’s gone to message.” She chose not to leave one and put the phone away. “Just a second.”
Agnes left the room and walked up to the nurses’ station. “Has Dr. Sturgess been by?” she asked.
No one had seen him.
Agnes returned to Marla’s bedside. “Okay, why don’t we get you dressed.”
“Tell me about it again,” Marla said dreamily.
“Oh, sweetheart, no.”
“Please. It’s so hard for me to remember; it helps when you tell me about it.”
“But, darling, it’s too sad. I just can’t.” Agnes’s eyes began to moisten.
Marla, still sitting up, rested her head on the pillow and looked off in the direction of the ceiling, her eyes not focused on anything in particular.
“It is sad, I know that. But the thing is, I still had a child. A beautiful little girl. And she lived inside me for nine months, and I loved her, and I believe she loved me back. And I mourn her every day. I want to remember her, those few moments I got to hold her. But it’s a memory I have a hard time holding on to.”
“Marla, sweetheart—”
“Please, Mom? I know sometimes it’s even harder for you to talk about than it is for me, but believe me, I like to hear this.”
Agnes took a deep breath through her nose. “I’ll do it, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Marla waited for her mother to begin.
“After the baby came out, the doctor and I . . . even though we knew its condition, we—”
“Her.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Her condition. Agatha Beatrice Pickens was never an it.”
Agnes squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Of course she wasn’t. We cleaned Agatha up, wrapped her up tight in a blanket, and we propped some pillows behind your back so you could sit up, and then Dr. Sturgess put Agatha in your arms so you could hold her for a few moments.”
“And tell me what I did,” Marla said.
“You . . .”
Agnes stopped a moment and turned away, but didn’t take her hand off her daughter. She took another breath and, once composed, continued.
“You looked into Agatha’s face and you said she was beautiful.”
“I bet she was.”
“You said she was the most beautiful child you had ever seen.”
“And then what? I kissed her, didn’t I?”
Agnes closed her eyes. She could barely say the words. They came out in a halting whisper. “Yes, you did.”