Rachel Alexander 04 - Lady Vanishes

mouthed. And then I did.
    “Pain,” she said.
    And then her eyes fluttered closed, and her head moved slightly away from me.
    I sat a moment longer, my heart pounding, then went out to the desk to tell the nurse what had happened.

Chapter 29
    Is This Yours? She Asked

    It was the middle of the night by the time I left St. Vincent’s. I had wanted to go to Venus’s apartment and read the rest of her letters to and from Harry, but after what had happened, it seemed a ridiculous plan. For one thing, it would take hours and hours to do that. No way could I stay awake that long if I were sitting still and reading. My head ached, my stomach felt hollow, I was punchy with exhaustion. Whatever the nurse had given Venus, injecting something into the IV drip, I should have asked for some myself. But even more pressing than my need for sleep was my need to tell someone about what had happened, someone who knew Venus and would care.
    For some reason I can’t explain, halfway back to Harbor View, I changed my mind again. I had been hoping to talk to Homer, maybe have that cup of tea with him and tell him that Venus was breathing on her own, that she’d awakened, even if it was only for half a minute, and only to say she was hurting.
    But as I passed the little park at Abingdon Square, empty now, all the old people from the Village Nursing Home snug in their beds, no one else around, not even the pigeons that swoop in and clean the park of dropped food, I decided there was someone else I ought to tell my story to. Even at this late hour, or maybe especially at this late hour, talking about something as emotional as Venus’s “accident” and what looked to me like the beginning of her recovery might open up other topics, might just give me the piece of the puzzle that would allow me to understand the now confusing picture. It could make sense of the jumble of seemingly unrelated facts, like when after a long litany of complaints, a dog owner used to tell me the thing I should have heard first. He was taken from his mother at four weeks of age, they’d say, an aside that had no real significance to them but explained all the aberrant behavior that had led to me being hired.
    If only.
    She opened her door on the third knock, looking puffy-faced and confused when the light from the hallway hit her eyes.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked, squinting as she pulled her robe closed around her and tied the belt. She had her slippers on, too, I noticed, ready to go forth and do battle if need be.
    “I have to talk to you,” I told her, watching her expression change. She was looking at me now as if I were crazy. “Can I come in?”
    “What time would it be?” she asked.
    “Two-something,” I told her without looking. “I’ve just come from seeing Venus.”
    Molly reached for my hand and pulled me into her dark room, leaving the door open behind us. In the little bit of light that filtered in from the hallway we made our way to her bed and sat, Molly still holding my hand.
    “How is she, that poor child?”
    “She spoke,” I said. “And she’s breathing on her own.” And then before I could elaborate, I began to cry. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, making my eyes feel as if they were full of sand, making my shoulders sag and ache, my feet feel too big for my shoes, my mouth feel dry and sour. As if she knew all that, Molly reached for the glass of water on her nightstand and handed it to me. Then she slipped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.
    “All she said was ‘Pain,’ ” I said, my voice still choked with tears. “But I think that’s a good sign, don’t you?”
    “I do indeed. And breathing without the ventilator?”
    I nodded.
    “I’ve been praying for her, asking our dear Lord to bring her back to us.”
    I nodded again.
    “She’s the backbone of this place, Rachel. She knows everything, and quietly, never tooting her own horn like some might, she keeps things running smoothly. She’s there for us, too, for the staff. But her way with the patients, it’s uncanny, always knowing when a person can handle more responsibility. She’s always had more faith in them than anyone. I myself tend to baby them. It’s not good for them, she’d say to me. Now Molly, you know they need to do every possible thing, every possible thing they can for themselves. It’s what gives a body self-esteem, she told me many a time. Because I needed to be told it more than once, that’s for sure.
    “She was