“Well, I guess they haven’t gotten to your room yet. Why don’t you go back in there and wait, and I’m sure a tray will be right up.”

“Oh, okay. Um, I was wondering. It’s kind of hard just waiting, you know, and I was wondering if there maybe was a patient here that, you know, never got any visitors? Maybe I could visit with them for a while tonight and tomorrow, while my baby’s . . . while my baby’s in . . .”—she took a deep breath—“surgery.”

The nurse stood up. She towered over Fern. “Why, that’s a wonderful idea. And as a matter of fact, we have a lovely woman who’s been here quite a while. Her son comes now and again, but he’s busy with his own family—you know how it is. Mrs. Stimson. Room Two twenty-three, right across the hall from you. She’d be delighted to have some company.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. Are you here . . . ?”

“Three to midnight. My name’s Gloria. You give a shout if you or your baby need anything at all, okay?”

“Thank you.” Fern felt strange. This was an odd place. She turned to go back into her room, but the thought of that barren place with nothing to do didn’t appeal to her. She turned right instead and knocked softly on the door to Mrs. Stimson’s room.

“Come.”

Fern pushed the door open and poked her head in. “Mrs. Stimson?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Hi. My name is Fern Mannes. My daughter and I are across the hall. I’m kind of, well, nervous, and thought maybe I could come visit for a while.”

“Oh? Well, come on in. Love visitors.” The woman was horribly thin; her cheekbones stood out, shadowing hollow eyes and wrinkled lips. She reached a bony hand back to plump up her pillow so she could sit up better, then reached for little tight glasses. She peered out at Fern.

“You’re a young one. What’s wrong? Female trouble?”

“Oh, no,” Fern said as she pulled up a folding wooden chair, “My baby’s having surgery in the morning.”

“A baby, huh? That’s not good. What’s the matter with it?”

“Her.”

“Hah? What’s that?”

“Her. My baby’s a her. Martha. She was born without a nose.”

“Martha. Always liked that name. No nose, eh? Hah. I’d cut off my own nose if I could live with better veins. That’s what I’ve got. Veins. They’ve been stripping out the veins in my legs for years now. Damned nuisance.”

“That must be very painful.”

“Painful! Hah! Can’t hardly get around, and a youngster like me ought to be out and about, eh?” She cackled.

Fern felt an irrepressible urge to touch this woman.

“Mrs. Stimson, back home, I . . .”

“Home? Where’s that?”

“Morgan.”