Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(96)

“All fine, as expected. That’s why I didn’t call. Sorry.”

“Sure. We understand. And Daniella?”

“She’s fine, and in their hands.”

“Wonderful.” Her mother smiled, almost politely. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thanks.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“You sure you don’t need to be seen by a doctor? We’re in a hospital, after all.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I bet Frank was glad to see you.”

“Yes,” Judy answered, avoiding her mother’s eye. She wasn’t about to tell them about Frank. She had known both women her whole life, but felt as if she couldn’t trust them anymore.

“You’re all over the news.” Her mother nodded in the direction of the television, which was playing morning shows on mute.

“I know, right?” Judy found herself hesitating before she went over to Aunt Barb, who was sitting inclined in bed, pale and tired under a multicolored cap and buried by a white blanket, her finger hooked up to a monitor and her hand to an IV. Judy learned over and gave her aunt a quick kiss on the cheek, feeling as if she were going through the motions. All of them were.

“Hi, honey.” Aunt Barb managed a shaky smile. “Who knew what a mess I’d get you into, huh? We’re so proud of you, for everything you did, and for helping Daniella.”

“Thanks. How do you feel?” Judy lingered by the bed, glancing at the array of monitors with their blinking lights. The cottony straps of Aunt Barb’s vest, with the drain pockets, were visible because her neckline had slipped to the side.

“Not too bad. It feels like there’s pressure on my chest, but it’s not that bad. They’re weaning me off of morphine and onto Demerol.” Aunt Barb gestured at the IV drip that ran to a port in the top of her hand. “It supposedly makes your back itch, so I have my back scratcher. See, look.” She patted a bamboo backscratcher by her side.

“So, everything went okay?”

“Perfect.” Aunt Barb smiled. “I’m relieved to have it behind me. The doctor said I might not have to have radiation, but we’ll see.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Judy said, meaning it, but she didn’t feel happiness, strangely apart form her own emotions. Before, she and her aunt would have been giggling, laughing, and high-fiving. But that was Before, and this was After. “So you ready to go home today?”

“More than ready.”

“When do you think you’ll be discharged?” Judy asked, making small talk, filling the air with words to dispel the awkwardness.

“They said the doctor should be here in about an hour, then I have to fill out forms and such. Noon, I hope to be out.”

“You sure you want to go back to your house?”

“Yes, thanks for the offer of your place, but I’ll be more comfy at home, now that it’s safe, thanks to you.”

Judy’s mother returned to the bed table and slipped a brown jug of Sunsweet prune juice in a bag. “We have everything planned. We’ll take my car to your apartment, pack her bags, then get her home. Will you join us or do you have to work?”

“No, I have to work,” Judy lied. She didn’t know what she was going to do today, and nobody at the office would blame her for taking the day off.

“But you’ll come out to the house tonight? Say hi? Have dinner?”

“If I can. We’ll see.”

“Good. I’ll make a nice salmon with parsley. You know how you love that dish. Frank can come, too.” Her mother wrapped the top of the plastic bag around the bottom, making a neat roll. “Aunt Barb will rest for the afternoon, then she has to do her range-of-motion and breathing exercises.”

“Breathing?” Judy faked a smile. “In, out? In, out?”

“With that gadget, a spirometer.” Her mother pointed at a transparent plastic tube by the side of the bed, with graduated numbers up the side and a blue plastic bottom. “You inhale and try to get the ball in the air. She has to do it every day, twice a day.”

Aunt Barb patted the bed. “Judy, come sit down and tell us how last night went, with the FBI. I’m so curious about how it works, negotiating deals and such.”

“It’s very bureaucratic,” Judy said, suddenly sick of the small talk, of avoiding the subject. She wished she had gone straight to work.

“I doubt that,” Aunt Barb said, gently. “Is it like on TV?”

“Barb, of course it isn’t.” Her mother came over, setting down the bag. “I bet it is bureaucratic. All those government agencies are the same. Everything is political. Right, Judy?”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Judy said, the words slipping out of their own accord. “I want to understand what happened with me and you two.”

“Here?” Her mother’s eyes flared. “Now?”

“Yes, here and now. Why not here and now?” Judy thought better of it when she spotted a pained look crease Aunt Barb’s face. “I mean, forget it. You’re right. This isn’t the time or place, after the operation and all. That was selfish of me, I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, it’s fine,” Aunt Barb said firmly. “It is. We can talk about it right now.”