Mechanically, she places a cheese-and-cracker pack into the expectant fingers. “It’s the cola nurse,” she whispers.

“The one you drugged?” Marion asks.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Not in ICU.”

“Hunh-uh.”

“She’s back at work in record time,” Marion says. “What do you bet she never was in ICU? Either that, or she has one hell of a constitution. She’s coming,” Marion warns.

Rose makes sure she is busy as Karen comes over to lift a couple of the boxed drinks from the tray.

“Lovely Lily!” the nurse says when she spies the diet cola. Two boxes of juice in one hand, she catches up her soda in the other.

“She is one big girl,” Marion says.

Rose suppresses a giggle. Hysteria, she tells herself.

“So poor Lily got stuck with cleanup,” Karen says amiably. She sets her soda on the nurses’ desk and returns with the patients’ juice boxes.

“Looks like.” Rose keeps her chin down so the wig hair falls around her cheeks. “Here you go.” Crackers are delivered to the vacant-eyed woman.

“My name is Karen,” the cola nurse says. “Did Ms. Lopez borrow you from the hospital?”

“My supervisor doesn’t mind,” Rose says, hoping that is vague enough to be unchallengeable. She turns back to the tray. If Karen wants to shake hands or indulge in hospital gossip, Rose is doomed. With a stranger, she might be able to get away with it. With somebody who has likely bathed her, changed her, and fed her for weeks, she doubts the disguise will hold up for long.

Never has Rose felt so miserably, wretchedly three-dimensional, so hopelessly visible. If a red light began flashing FAKE, FAKE on her forehead, she could scarcely have felt any more obviously a fraud. Had she a keycard, she would make a run for it.

Fear turns into a cat and gets Rose’s tongue. Words rattle in pieces behind her skull bone. None can be made whole. None can get down to her mouth. Silence grows until it becomes an active force whining in her mind like a guitar string ready to snap. Social awkwardness on steroids.

“Yeah,” Karen says, reaching past Rose to collect two packets of snacks. “They trade us like they used to trade maids in Myers Park. ‘If you’re having the ladies in Tuesday, I can lend you my Tilly,’” Karen says in a high-pitched genteel drawl, and laughs. Rose manages a form of snicker.

“Stop that!” Marion says irritably. “No more trying to laugh. Get out of there. The woman will figure out you’re you in a heartbeat. Keep your mouth closed. Don’t look at her. This whole thing is off. Go. Go. Go!”

“Plan B,” Rose whispers.

“There is no plan B,” Marion fumes.

“I know,” Rose snaps.

“Sounds like you’ve been lent out once too often,” Karen comments.

“All finished?” Rose asks sweetly, snatching the snack and juice from the leaning woman’s hands.