Sisterhood Read Online Free PDF Page A

never coming back. The next thing I remember, the nurse was trying to keep me from smashing any more of Johnny’s gifts. He even got a card and a book from the governor, you know. My God, I hope I haven’t ruined it. I—”
    “You didn’t ruin it, Mrs. Chapman. I have it right here. And here’s the orange juice you wanted.”
    Christine turned toward the voice.
    Angela Martin nodded a greeting, then brought over the book and the juice. “I called your pastor, Mrs. Chapman,” she said. “He’ll be right over.”
    At the sight of Angela, immaculate and unruffled despite a difficult eight-hour shift, the woman calmed perceptibly. “Thank you, child. You’ve been so kind to me. And you were to my Johnny, too.” She gestured at the mess. “I … I’m sorry about this.”
    “Nonsense,” Angela said, “I’ve called Housekeeping.They’ll take care of it. Come, let’s wait in the quiet room until your pastor comes.” She put a slender arm around the grieving woman’s shoulders and led her out.
    Christine stood alone amid the wreckage, remembering her initial surprise at John Chapman’s humor and erudite gentleness. Was there anything else she could do now for the man’s widow? Not really, she decided. As long as Angela Martin was with her, the woman was in exceptionally compassionate and skilled hands.
    Christine started toward the door, then stopped and returned for the two undamaged vases of flowers. Mrs. Chapman might want to bring them home, she thought. She glanced at the note taped to the green glass vase. Lilies … from Lily? Good grief, what next? She shook her head. An unexpected death and bizarre namesake flowers. It all felt quite in keeping with a day that from its very beginning had seemed beyond her control.
    Her roommates, Lisa and Carole, had both left for work when the phone began ringing. Christine had made a quick thrust at her alarm clock, then identified the true source of the insistent jangle. She had tried burying her head under the pillow. Eventually she had stumbled to the kitchen, certain that the ringing would stop as soon as she reached for the receiver. It did not.
    “My name is Peg,” the caller had said in a voice that was at once both soft and strong. “I am one of the directors of your Sisterhood. There is a patient on your floor in Doctors Hospital whom I would like you to evaluate and, if you see fit, present for consideration to your Regional Screening Committee. It is not possible for me to do so myself without an awkwardness that might well be noticed, since I no longer actively practice nursing.”
    Christine had put her hand under the faucet, then rubbed cold water over her face. Although mention of The Sisterhood had awakened her like a slap, she wantedto be sure. She stammered, “Well, no one has ever called and asked me to … what I mean is …”
    The woman had anticipated Christine’s concern. “Please, Christine, just hear me out,” she said. “As is always the rule in our movement, you are under no obligation to do anything other than that which you believe in your heart to be right. I have known the woman about whom I am calling for many years. I feel certain that she would not want to survive the situation in which she now exists. She is in great pain and her condition, from what I have been able to learn, is without hope.”
    At that moment Christine knew, without being told, whom she was being asked to evaluate. “It’s Charlotte, isn’t it?” she said. “Charlotte Thomas.”
    “Yes, Christine, it is.”
    “I … I’ve thought about her a great deal lately, especially with the agony she’s been going through these past few days.”
    “Were you planning to report her case yourself?” the caller asked.
    “Last night. I almost called her in last night. Something stopped me from doing it. I don’t know what it was. She is such a remarkable woman, I …” Christine’s voice trailed away.
    “The path we have chosen to follow will