Bleeding Heart

Marie Anne Pope was exactly what Dr. Francesca La Fleur was looking for in a head nurse. Marie interviewed with both Francesca and Ben Cojocaru, the owner of Whole Care Loving Care Nursing Home. She had been a nurse in Maine but had gotten the calling to serve God. She had given her life to God and the Catholic Church where she could better serve her fellow man and lend her skills as a nurse.

“Were you a nun?” asked Dr. Le Fleur.

“Oh, no, they said because I had three small children with no one else to look after them, I shouldn’t become a nun, but I could help out with first aid and blood drives, you know, things like that. But they called me Sister, I liked that.”

“And what about your husband, Mr. Pope? Where is he?”

“John Paul? He went out for cigarettes one day and never came back. Funny thing was, he never even smoked. Never heard from him again. Good thing I was a professional, a registered nurse.”

“And how did you care for your children when you worked?”

“Oh, they had a key. I taught ’em how to make mac ’n cheese, wienies, stuff like that. Except for the times they were in the hospital, of course. I looked after them personally.”

“I see. So, what made you leave the church?” asked Ben.

Marie hesitated. She had a story she had rehearsed about being so overcome with grief at the state of cruelty and the misery in the world, to the point where she could no longer effectively serve objectively. But she felt the gaze of Ben. Francesca was wringing her bejeweled hands and licking her lips. Marie felt a sudden sense of overwhelming calm; a calm she had never felt during her stint as a nun.

“I left the church because the monsignor had discovered my secret.”

“Secret? And what would that be, Mrs. Pope?”

“I killed my children. My three, innocent girls. I just wanted people to see what a great and masterful nurse I was. I gave them insulin and I knew just how much I could give them to make them sick, so I could nurse them back to health. But I got a little too confident. I kept increasing the doses to see how far I could go before they would die, you know? Woops; too much. All three. Dead.”

“And what happened after that?”

“The monsignor said that God had already forgiven me, but he didn’t want to see my horrible face ever again. I was never a good neighbor nor a good house keeper, so no one was suspicious right off the bat. The monsignor had me write a letter to the hospital where I worked and two letters to each kids’ teachers. The youngest one was never in school so there was no need of a letter for her. The letters said that we had come into a family inheritance and would be traveling the world. He told the church the same story, had our mail and our paper stopped. So, I left. That was in 1992. I still knew how to influence minds, especially little ones. After I left Maine, I went to a TV studio in Modesto, California that produced children’s programs and sold them my idea of a nun that reads children’s stories, you know, Bible stories. I became Sister Mary Poppends. You know, because I wanted to be like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music.”

“Yes, yes; we get it. What brought you here to Oregon?”

“The producer of the show found out, you know, what I did. So… I moved up here, to Oregon.”

“Are they still looking for you?”

“Oh, probably.”

“Mrs. Pope, you are exactly what we are looking for. Despite your past… indiscretions, your skills are exceptional. Under the guidance of Dr. Le Fleur, your skills will be honed to meet our specifications. You will take charge of two, very special patients and you must oversee every aspect of their care. And you cannot kill them. There will be consequences of the like you could never have imagined, for should they die under your charge, all your past errors will greet you like a swirling, simmering abyss. Are you up to the task?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Good. But you will need a new identity… and a make-over. I will leave you in Dr. Le Fleur’s capable hands for that commission.”

The drab, bookish Marie Anne Pope became the newly packaged; from grey to brunette hair in a stylish chignon, eye glasses from cat eye to over-sized lenses, no make-up to blood red lipstick, baggy clothes to fitted nurses’ uniform; Ms. Mary Poplar; awash with enough false identification to erase Marie Anne Pope.

And flourish, she did. Mary Poplar became a force of efficiency and loyalty. All the other nurses became whipped and polished soldiers of Mary’s army. Any soldier that stepped out of line was either promptly fired or never heard from again. Every nurse’s note, every “i” dotted and “t” crossed, every medication given met with the scrutiny of Head Nurse Poplar.

Patients were classified upon admission and given three levels of care: 1: life expectancy of 10 years, 2: life expectancy of five to 10 years and 3: expedited exit. Patients’ families were never told of their loved ones’ classification level.

Meal menus were carefully crafted by Nurse Poplar to suit each classification. Those in levels 1 and 2 were given foods rich in iron. Blood panels for these patients was closely monitored. Those in level 3 were given increasing doses of insulin and experimental, genetically modified drugs. Though they were on the expedited exit list, they were closely watched, and their reactions recorded for any successes or failures to the drugs. The successful drugs were introduced to patients in level 2. The more stable successes were introduced to patients in level 1.

Blood from patients in level 1 was drawn, packaged and picked up by Bakar Solo, Ben Cojocaru’s right hand who was also in charge of his line of boutique wines, Origins of the Gods.

The highly anticipated day finally came when Dr. Le Fleur gave Mary Poplar the orders to make Leonard Cleese and Cosimo Abandonato her personal, level 3 charges. Every other patient in the facility was completely ignored as Mary bathed, clothed, changed catheter bags, fed, injected meds, drew blood, noted charts and hovered over her patients like an expectant, black angel.