Mary Clark: The Cradle Will Fall

Dr. Jiro Fukhito was the psychiatrist on the team. The Westlake Maternity Concept was one of holistic medicine. It was based on the idea that mind and body must be in harmony to achieve a successful pregnancy.

Edna enjoyed telling her friends that the Westlake concept had been dreamed up by old Dr. Westlake, who had died before he could act on it. Then, eight years ago, his daughter Winifred had married Dr. Highley, bought the River Falls Clinic, renamed it for her father and set up her husband there. "She and the doctor were crazy about each other," Edna would sigh. "She was ten years older than he and nothing to look at, but they were real lovers. It was some shock when she died. No one ever knew her heart was that bad.

"But," she'd say philosophically, "he keeps busy. I've seen women who never were able to conceive become pregnant two and three times. Of course, a lot of them don't carry the babies to term, but at least they know there's a chance. You can read about it yourself," she'd add. "Newsmaker magazine is doing an article about him. They photographed him last week in his office, and if you think we're busy now, wait till that article comes out."

Edna was a born bookkeeper. Dr. Highley always complimented her on the excellent records she maintained. The only time he gave her the rough side of his tongue was once when he overheard her talking to one patient about another's problems. He had finished by saying, "Any more talking and you're through."

Edna sighed. She was tired. Last night both doctors had had evening hours, and it had been hectic. Now, while it was quiet, she'd check the calendar to make sure she'd made all the necessary future appointments. She had been told by Dr. Highley that she was to make follow-up appointments with people as they left. Frowning, she leaned her broad, freckled face on a thick hand.

She was an overweight woman of forty-four who looked ten years older. Her youth had been spent taking care of aging parents. When Edna looked back at pictures of herself from secretarial school, she was always surprised at what a pretty girl she'd once been. A mite too heavy, but pretty nevertheless.

Her mind was only half on the page she was reading. Then something triggered her full attention. Last night. The eight-o'clock appointment Vangie Lewis had with Dr. Fukhito.

Vangie had come in early and sat talking with Edna. She was sure upset. Vangie had put on a lot of weight during the pregnancy; she really wasn't well. Last month she'd started wearing moccasins because her other shoes didn't fit anymore. She'd shown them to Edna. "Look at this. My right foot is so swollen, I can only wear these clodhoppers my cleaning woman left behind. The left one is always falling off."

Edna had tried to kid her. "Well, with those glass slippers, I'll just have to start calling you Cinderella. We'll call your husband Prince Charming." Vangie was nuts about her husband.

But Vangie had just pouted and said impatiently, "Prince Charming was Sleeping Beauty's boy friend, not Cinderella's." Edna had just laughed. "Never mind-before you know it, you'll have your baby and be back in pretty shoes again."

Last night Vangie had pulled up that long caftan she'd started wearing to hide her swollen leg. "Edna," she'd said, "now I can hardly even get this clodhopper on. And for what? For what?" She'd been almost crying.

"Oh, you're just down in the dumps," Edna had said. "Good thing you came in to talk to Dr. Fukhito. He'll relax you."

Just then Dr. Fukhito had buzzed and asked her to send in Mrs. Lewis. As Vangie started down the corridor to his office, she stumbled. She'd walked right out of that loose left shoe.

"Oh, to hell with it!" she cried, and just kept going. Edna had picked up the moccasin, figuring Vangie would come back for it when she finished with Dr. Fukhito.

But when Edna was ready to go home around nine o'clock, Vangie still hadn't come back. Edna decided to ring Dr. Fukhito and tell him she had the shoe, but there was no answer. Vangie must have left by the door that led directly to the parking lot.

That was crazy. She'd catch her death of cold getting her foot wet.

Irresolutely Edna had held the moccasin in her hand and locked up. She went out to the parking lot toward her own car just in time to see Vangie's big red Lincoln Continental pull out with Dr. Highley at the wheel. She'd run a few steps to wave to him, but it was no use. So she'd just gone home.

Now, checking her calendar, she wondered if Dr. Highley had already made a new appointment with Vangie. She decided to phone her just to be sure. She dialed the number. The Lewis phone rang once, twice.

A man answered. "Lewises' residence."

"Mrs. Lewis, please. This is Dr. Highley's office. We want to set up Mrs. Lewis' next appointment." "Hold on." She heard muffled voices talking. What could be going on? The voice returned. "This is Detective Cunningham of the Valley County prosecutor's office. I'm sorry, but Mrs. Lewis has died suddenly. You can tell her doctor that someone on our staff will contact him tomorrow."

"Mrs. Lewis died!" Edna's voice was a howl of dismay. "Oh, what happened?"

"It seems she took her own life." The connection was broken.

Slowly Edna lowered the receiver. It just wasn't possible.

The two-o'clock appointments arrived together: Mrs. Volmer for Dr. Highley, Mrs. Lashley for Dr. Fukhito. "Are you all right, Edna?" Mrs. Volmer asked curiously. Edna knew Mrs. Volmer had sometimes talked to Vangie in the waiting room. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her she was dead. But some instinct warned her to tell Dr. Highley first. His one-thirty appointment came out. He was on the intercom. "Send Mrs. Volmer in, Edna." "Doctor, may I step into your office for a moment, please? I'd like to have a word with you."

"Certainly." He didn't sound very happy about it.

She hurried down the hall to his office, then timidly stepped inside. "Doctor," she began, "you'll want to know. I just phoned Vangie Lewis to make an appointment. A detective answered and said she killed herself. They're coming to see you tomorrow."

"Mrs. Lewis did what?"

Now that she could talk about it, Edna's words came tumbling out in a torrent. "She was so upset last night, wasn't she, Doctor? She acted like she didn't care about anything. But you must know that; I thought it was the nicest thing when I saw you drive her home. I waved to you, but you didn't see me. So I guess of all people you know how bad she was."

"Edna, how many people have you discussed this with?" There was something in his tone that made her nervous. Flustered, she replied, "Why, nobody, sir. I just heard this minute." "You did not discuss Mrs. Lewis with Mrs. Volmer or with the detective on the phone?"

"No, sir."

"Edna, tomorrow when the police come, you and I will tell them everything we know about Mrs. Lewis' frame of mind. But listen to me now." He pointed his finger at her and leaned forward. "I don't want Mrs. Lewis' name mentioned by you to anyone- anyone, do you hear? Her suicide reflects very badly on our hospital. How do you think it's going to look if it comes out that she was a patient of mine? If I hear you have so much as mentioned the Lewis case, you're finished here. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." "Are you going out with friends tonight? You know how you get when you drink."

Edna was close to tears. "I'm going home tonight. I want to have my wits about me tomorrow when the police talk to me. Poor little Cinderella." Tears came to her eyes, but then she saw the expression on his face. Angry. Disgusted.

Edna straightened up, dabbed at her eyes. "I'll send Mrs. Volmer in, Doctor. And you don't have to worry," she added with dignity. "I value our hospital. I know how much your work means to you and to our patients. I'm not going to say one single word."