started for the back door. “At your service,” he called
over his shoulder. “Let me help you out.”
“Out?” Gertrude snapped. “Out where? Out of this
world?”
She was still hurling invective as the two of them
went outside. It was a conflict of long standing, a personal Thirty Years War between Joe Flynn and
Gertrude Grover. When Joe had first courted Judith,
Gertrude had announced that she didn’t like him. He
was a cop. They made rotten husbands. He was Irish.
They always drank too much. He had no respect for his
elders. He wouldn’t kowtow to Gertrude.
Judith and Joe had gotten engaged anyway. And
then disaster struck. Joe had gotten drunk, not because he was Irish but because he was a cop, and had
come upon two teenagers who had overdosed on
drugs. Putting a couple of fifteen-year-olds in body
bags had sent him off to a bar—and into the arms of
the sultry singer at the piano. Vivian, or Herself, as
SUTURE SELF
9
Judith usually called her, had shanghaied the oblivious Joe to Las Vegas and a justice of the peace. The
engagement was broken, and so was Judith’s heart.
Judith was still dwelling on the past when Joe returned to the kitchen. “She’s still alive,” he announced,
then looked more closely at his wife. “What’s wrong?
You look sort of sickly.”
“Nozzing,” Judith replied, trying to smile. “I mean,
nothing—except Mudder. Mother. It bothers me when
she’s so mean to you.”
Joe shrugged. “I’m used to it. In fact, I get kind of a
kick out of it. Face it, Jude-girl, at her age she doesn’t
have much pleasure in life. If it amuses her to needle
me, so what?”
Judith rested her head against Joe’s hip. “You’re
such a decent person, Joe. I love you.”
“The feeling is eternally mutual,” he said, hugging
her shoulders. “How many pain pills did you take?”
“Umm . . .” Judith considered fibbing. She was very
good at it. When she could think straight. “Two.”
Joe sighed. “Let’s eat. Food might straighten you
out a bit.”
“Wouldn’t you think,” Judith said halfway through the
meal when she had begun to feel more lucid, “that when
you and I finally got married after your divorce and
Dan’s death, Mother would have been happy for us?”
Joe shook his head. “Never. You’re an only child,
and your father died fairly young. You’re all your
mother has, and she’ll never completely let go. The
same’s true with Renie. Look how your Aunt Deb pulls
Renie around like she’s on a string.”
“True,” Judith allowed. “What I meant was that even
if Mother resented you at first, after I married Dan on
the rebound, and he turned out to be such a . . . flop,
10
Mary Daheim
you’d figure that Mother would be glad to see me married to somebody with a real job and a sense of responsibility and a girth considerably less than
fifty-four inches. Dan’s pants looked like the sails on
the Britannia.”
Joe grinned and the gold flecks danced in his green
eyes. “Your mother didn’t want a replacement or an
improvement. She wanted you, back home, under her
wing.”
“She got it,” Judith said with a rueful laugh. “After
Dan died, Mike and I couldn’t go on living in that
rental dump out on Thurlow Street. The rats were so
big they were setting traps for us.”
It was only a slight exaggeration. After losing one
house to the IRS for back taxes, defaulting on another,
and getting evicted twice, Judith, Dan, and Mike had
ended up, as Grandpa Grover would have put it, “in
Queer Street.” Dan had stopped working altogether by
then, and Judith’s two jobs barely paid for the basics.
The Thurlow rental was a wreck, the neighborhood
disreputable. After Dan died, Judith and her only son
moved back into the family home on Heraldsgate Hill.
Her mother had protested at first when Judith came up
with her scheme to turn the big house into a B&B.
Eventually, Gertrude had given in, if only because she
and Judith and Mike had to eat. But when Joe reappeared in Judith’s life during the homicide investigation of a guest, the old lady had balked. If Judith
married Joe, Gertrude announced, she wouldn’t live
under the same roof with him. Thus, the toolshed had
been converted into a small apartment, and Gertrude
took her belongings and her umbrage out to the backyard.
She complained constantly, but refused to budge.
SUTURE SELF
11
Judith pictured her mother in the old brown mohair
chair, eating her “supper,” watching TV, and cursing
Joe Flynn. Gertrude would never change her mind
about her son-in-law, not even now in her dotage. But
at least some sort of truce was in effect, which made
life a little easier at Hillside Manor.
Shortly after seven, Judith called Renie back to get
the details on her cousin’s surgery. Neither of them
knew exactly what time their operations would be
scheduled and wouldn’t find out until Friday afternoon. Judith hunkered down and tried to be patient. It
wasn’t easy: Even in the wheelchair, she experienced a
considerable amount of pain and, due to the recent
news reports, it was accompanied by an unexpected
apprehension. Still, Judith could do little more than
wait.
The tedium was broken Friday morning when Mike
called from his current posting as a forest ranger up on the
close-in mountain pass.
“Guess what,” he said in his most cheerful voice.
“What?” Judith asked.
“Guess.”
The first thing that came to mind was that Mike had
been promoted. Which, she thought with plunging
spirits, might mean a transfer to anywhere in the fifty
states.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Judith said. “I’m an
invalid, remember?”
“Mom . . .” Mike chuckled. “It’s only temporary.
Which is good, because you’re going to have to be up
and running by the time your next grandchild gets here
around the Fourth of July.”
“Oh!” Judith’s smile was huge and satisfying.
“That’s terrific! How is Kristin feeling?”
12
Mary Daheim
“Great,” Mike replied. “You know my girl, she’s a
hardy honey.”
“Hardy” wasn’t quite the word Judith would have
chosen. “Robust,” perhaps, or even “brawny.” Kristin
McMonigle was a Viking, or maybe a Valkyrie. Mike’s
wife was big, blonde, and beautiful. She was also constrained, conscientious, and capable. Almost too capable, it seemed to Judith. Kristin could repair a
transmission, build a cabinet, bake a Viennese torte,
shingle a roof, and balance a checkbook to the penny.
Indeed, Judith sometimes found her daughter-in-law
intimidating.
“I’m so thrilled,” Judith enthused. “I can’t wait to
tell Joe. And Granny.”
“That reminds me,” Mike said, “could you call
Grandma Effie, too? I don’t like making out-of-state
calls on the phone in the office. I’d call her from the
cabin tonight, but I’m putting on a slide show for some
zoologists.”
“Of course,” Judith said with only a slight hesitation. “I’ll call right now.”
“Thanks, Mom. Got to run. By the way, good luck