She had stayed in Martha’s room and prayed the whole day while Martha was in surgery. When she knew the operation had been a success, she walked off nervous energy in the halls of the hospital, meeting people, talking to them, laying on her hands. Many were helped, but Fern learned a disturbing thing while she was there. It was like her fondest fantasy come true, of healing all those within a hospital, but it couldn’t be. There were those who would not be healed. She had denied it at first, fought it, wrestled with the bodies and illnesses of some of those people. But it was true, and she began to discern those people as she passed them, barely stopping to speak.

She worked, of course, on Martha, and the healing was rapid. Dr. Goldman insisted they stay the full three weeks, though, not understanding the assistance the baby was being given. He was worried about the grafts taking, and while Fern assured him she was fine, they stayed. And Fern worked with those who would have her.

And now they were home again.

As soon as they had driven through the small town, Harry asked about the baby.

“How did it go?”

“It went well. Doctor Goldman was very nice.”

“How much do we owe him?”

“He gave us a special price, Harry. We only owe him fifty dollars. I told him we’d pay him five dollars a month until it was all paid.”

“Is she normal?”

“Of course she’s normal. You’ll see when we get home.” Fern was anxious to end this journey. Get settled again.

At home, she put the baby in her crib, then unpacked her suitcase. Harry sat in a kitchen chair, patiently waiting to see what difference his investment had made in his daughter.

Eventually, Fern brought the baby to him. She lifted back the blanket and carefully removed the gauze patch.

“Doctor Goldman said to keep this on for another week or two. At least until there’s no chance for infection.” She lifted the baby up. Martha looked directly at Harry.

Revulsion welled inside him. Her eye sockets down to her cheeks were still discolored with the bruises of surgery. The stitches had been recently removed, leaving little red dots on either side of a black and red line all the way around the nose. But the nose. The nose itself was as large as Harry’s, looking like a beak. It took up most of her face, dwarfing the tiny features of a baby face, and making her appear cross-eyed. It extended from high between her eyes to her lip, and from cheek to cheek. The effect would have been humorous if it weren’t so tragic. He wanted to snatch it as he would a Halloween mask and rip it from her face.