“Then he one of those guys who just likes oral and doesn’t like anything else.”
“Caridad! He did not! I mean, I did not. I mean, okay, some, but he liked me.”
Dree wondered when she’d started talking about the only serious relationship she’d ever had in the past tense.
“Yeah, but he was all smarmy right after you met him. He send you flowers. He sent to chocolates. He send you stuffed puppies. I always thought stuffed puppies kind of weird, like a mafia thing.”
“They weren’t taxidermied real dogs. They were hundred-dollar stuffed animals from Build-a-Stuffie.”
“I never like that guy, Dree. I think you’re better off without him. Whatever he took, let it go. Consider it tuition in the University of Real Life, where guys are always after whatever they can get.”
“I probably should. And I’m not chasing after him. As a matter of fact, I’m totally done with him.Really,I am. I should just consider everything to be tuition in the University of Real Life, like you said. That was some pretty expensive tuition, though.”
“I’m sorry he broke your heart. You will find another man. Plenty of fish in the sea. I think good riddance to bad rubbish.”
They said goodbye and hung up. Dree should have seen the signs that Francis was going to betray her, and she was stupid for missing them. Even Caridad had seen them. God, Dree was stupid.Shit.
The time was eleven o’clock at night in Paris, which meant that it was—Dree mathed and hoped she was doing it the right direction—probably two o’clock in the afternoon in New Mexico. Sister Ann taught her Sunday School Latin classes in the morning.
Dree called her through the app again.
After a few rings, Sister Ann answered with, “What do you know about this Peaceful Transitions Hospice he works at?”
“Um, hi to you, too, Sister Ann. He’s been working there for years. It’s a ninety-bed hospice, so it’s one of the largest in the area.”
Sister Ann’s squint seemed suspicious. When she turned her head, she was wearing her red barrettes to keep her hair pulled back in her bun, so she must have been feeling saucy that day. “That’s not what Father Thomas said.”
Dree tried to remember, but she’d never been to Francis’s hospice. “What do you mean? I’ve seen ads for them on bus stop shelters and such. It’shuge.It’s over in Maryvale.”
“That’s what you said, and that’s why Father Thomas was confused when he was there a few months ago and there were only three beds.”
“No,” Dree said, laughing. “There can’t be only three beds. First of all, I’ve seen their brochures and their website. They talk about the ‘comprehensive end-of-life care’ and ‘over ninety private rooms, plus counseling and religious areas.’”
“Father Thomas saw none of that,” Sister Ann said. “He said it was a tiny operation, and he was less than enthused about the care the three patients were getting.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. They order a ton of narcotic painkillers and other drugs through Good Samaritan Hospital.”
Sister Ann tilted her head on the phone screen, and she frowned. “That’s odd. Hospices shouldn’t have to do that.”
“After the government’s opioid crackdown, Peaceful Transitions couldn’t get enough painkillers for their terminally ill patients, who have only days or weeks to live once they transition to hospice care. I mean, what are they going to do,get addicted?”Dree chuckled. “Reducing their pain with every measure you can is the only humane thing to do. That’s how we met.”
Sister Ann looked up at the phone to stare her in the eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
Dree repeated, “That’s how Francis and I met. He was working at Peaceful Transitions when the crackdown came through last year, and they couldn’t order enough narcotics for palliative care for their dying patients.”
“So, he’s getting them—”
“Through Good Sam,” Dree repeated. “I do the purchasing for Good Sam’s ER. Francis came to see me a year ago because Peaceful Transitions was running low on narcotics, and he asked if Good Sam could transfer some over there. We transfer pharmaceuticals and supplies all the time to other hospitals and healthcare facilities in the network. Surgical supplies, bandages, PPE, whatever somebody is low on. There’s an established protocol with paperwork, but it’s so much faster than ordering through a supplier when you need something quickly. Peaceful Transitions is in our network, so I released some fentanyl, hydrocodone, and oxycodone to them. They pay us cost for them. It’s totally routine.”
“And he kept coming back,” Sister Ann said, lowering one of her eyebrows.
Dree brightened, thinking about those first few times they’d talked in the supply office. “Francis was nice. Working in an ER is tough, and it seemed like he understood me, you know?”
“Yes,” Sister Ann said.“Nice.All men seem soniceuntil you get to know them.”
“And Peaceful Transitions just had a tough time getting practically any of those restricted narcotics.”
“That’s odd. I don’t like odd.” The older nun scratched her chin, picking at some little bit of dry skin there.
