“He’s always been a kiss-up,” Judith said. Judith didn’t seem to be suspicious, which relieved Tara a bit.
Uneasily she realized that her questions might uncover secrets about her family she’d rather not know. That couldn’t stop her. She had to know the truth, good or bad.
Early Monday morning at the hospital, Tara found Joseph asleep, slumped against the back of one of the waiting-room chairs, his briefcase on his lap, legs sprawled, wearing one black sock and one blue one. The poor guy. Tara tapped his shoulder and held out the to-go cup of coffee she’d grabbed in the cafeteria.
“Wh... What is it?” he said, rubbing his face.
“Drink. You need this more than I do.”
“Thanks.” He clutched it in both hands and sipped as if his life depended on it. “Did you bring your mother?”
“Judith’s driving her later. Mom’s car is back, but she doesn’t seem steady enough to drive.”
Joseph nodded, drinking more coffee.
“How’s Faye doing?” she asked, wishing she could ask him about the office quarrels, but knowing it was too soon and too abrupt.
“They’re moving her to a regular room.” He took another sip. “This coffee’s good. You get it downstairs? Was there cream or just powdered crap?”
“Wait! What? She’s getting out of the ICU? She’s better? Why didn’t you call us?”
“She’s far from better. This just means she’s stable.”
“That’s big, Joseph. It’s great news. We have to tell Mom. It’s a first step.”
But her enthusiasm had no effect on Joseph who maintained his grim expression. “Don’t know when they’ll move her. Could be anytime...or hours from now. I’ve got to take off. Lots going on at work.”
“Absolutely.” Like the meeting she hoped to drop in on later in the morning.
A half hour later, two orderlies arrived to move Faye. Tara peeled the Sunset Crater photo from the bed tray, and accepted the plastic bag with Faye’s personal belongings from one of the techs. She tucked the bag under her arm and walked beside the bed as they rolled it toward the elevator.
On the second floor, they headed down a hall. Tara spotted Rita backing out of a supply closet and stopped to talk to her, watching as the techs entered the last room on the left. “Rita?” she said.
The nurse jumped, dropping two boxes, the beads in her hair clicking wildly. “Damn, girl, you took a year off my life.”
Tara bent to pick up the boxes of latex gloves, handing them back. “Sorry, but Faye’s moving onto your floor. Last room on the left.” She pointed.
“And here I thought I’d ditched you.” She grinned. “Don’t forget headphones when you bring in that foul music.”
“I won’t.” She realized Rita might be able to help her with a crucial question. “You can look at my sister’s chart, right?”
“Why?” Rita’s eyes narrowed.
“I need to know if she had alcohol in her bloodstream when they brought her in. Could you check for me?”
“Sorry. Your brother-in-law is the family contact. He would have to ask one of her doctors to do that. Talk to him.”
“I can’t, Rita. He’ll take it wrong. It’s a long story, but, trust me, it wouldn’t go well.” She didn’t want to make Joseph more guarded around her. “People are saying she was driving drunk. It’s her reputation on the line.” She threw in a guess. “Plus, it could mess with our insurance coverage.”
“No can do. And don’t give me those sad-girl eyes. People lose their jobs for violating patient privacy.”
“What about her regular M.D.? Could he see her chart?” Their longtime family physician Dr. McAlister had been at the funeral.
“Depends on what releases got signed, whether or not he’s got privileges at this hospital.”
“I’ll ask him, I guess. They brought my father here, too. He died in the accident. He’d have a chart, right?”
“And his next of kin would be the one to request the information.”
“That would be my mom, I guess, but—”
“You know what I’m going to say.”
“Patient privacy, right. But if you happen to glance at the chart...”
“The favor shop is closed,” Rita said. “Now leave me be.” She set off with her armload of boxes.
Tara sighed. Asking her mother did not sound like a promising option. She headed for Faye’s room. The orderlies were gone and the room was eerily quiet compared to the ICU, where a nurse was always popping in to change an IV bag, get blood or check vital signs. This room was utterly still. It almost echoed. It was like they’d given