Away in a Manger by Rhys Bowen Page B

to my mouth. “Can I see him?” I managed to say.
    â€œWe’re transferring him to a ward right now. When he wakes up and he’s settled you’ll be able to see him.”
    â€œI’m glad it was good news, my dear,” said a gentle voice from across the room, and I noticed, really for the first time, that an old woman sat there. She was dressed in an aged, moth-eaten fur coat and held rosary beads in her hands.
    â€œThank you,” I said.
    â€œMy own dear Timothy was brought in with pneumonia,” she said. “It came on so quickly. Fighting for his life, they said. I don’t know what I’ll do without him. We’ve been married fifty-one years.”
    I went over to her and took her hand. “It’s a good hospital,” I said. “He’s in the best hands.”
    â€œHe’s in God’s hands,” she said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said this rosary as I’ve been sitting here. Would you like to say it together with me, one more time? They say when two or three are gathered in His name God will answer our prayers, don’t they?”
    And so I prayed the rosary with her. It had been years, since the nuns had taught me at St. Brendan’s, that I’d prayed a rosary. But the old familiar words slipped off my tongue as if it was yesterday. And I did find it comforting. Maybe I had stayed away from the church because of my unhappy experiences with priests and nuns, and my hostility had nothing to do with God. Maybe He had been there, unchanging, all the time.
    Outside I heard a clock chiming four. Incongruous thoughts flashed through my head: My son wouldn’t have had his nap. And my mother-in-law would be arriving to an empty house. Surely she’d have the sense to knock at Sid and Gus’s front door and find out what had happened. Why was it taking so long for Daniel to regain consciousness and to get settled in a ward? Finally I could stand it no longer. I got up and wandered out into a hallway. A young sister came out of a side room. I hurried after her. “Please, can you find out where they have taken my husband,” I said. “I want to see him.”
    â€œYour husband?”
    â€œThe policeman brought in with a gunshot wound?”
    â€œI expect he was taken to the morgue, ma’am,” she said.
    â€œNo, he was alive. The doctor said he was going to be all right,” I insisted.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there were two of them. If they are through with him in surgery they’ll have taken him to Saint Luke—the men’s surgical ward. It’s up one flight of stairs and to the right.”
    I set off, my feet echoing from the high stairwell. I had just found the men’s surgical ward when a nurse came out.
    â€œHave they brought Captain Sullivan up to this ward yet?” I asked as she started to walk past me. “The policeman with the gunshot wound.”
    â€œYes. They brought him in a little while ago.”
    â€œThank you,” I said. As I made for the door she added sharply, “But visiting hours ended at four. You’ll have to come back tomorrow. Noon to four.”
    I had had enough of being patient. I spun to face her. “My husband has been shot and nearly died. If you think I’m going to wait until tomorrow to visit him, you’ve got another think coming.” Then I stalked past her and into the room.
    I heard her saying, “But he shouldn’t be disturbed…” but I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I didn’t wait to see if she was following me. It was a long ward, with at least twelve beds on either side. Some patients were bandaged so that it was impossible to recognize them. I walked slowly, examining each bed, but didn’t see Daniel in any of them. One of the beds at the far end had a screen around it. I peeked around the screen and saw Daniel lying there, his face almost as white as