MERCY

Heron's first novel—about a feisty dedicated nurse ``running out of codependency gas''—covers much the same territory as her nonfiction, Intensive Care (1987), without being as compelling or credible. Not only is Catalina Richardson a skilled nurse with 20 years of experience, but she has spiritual power recognized by Gage—the blind, black hospital newsstand operator who also has second sight (which allows him, e.g., to dash upstairs, climb out a window, inch along a ledge and prevent a suicide). Throughout the novel, Gage fights ``against an invisible vortex of force'' that also threatens Cat and one of her patients—a beautiful, rich, and famous artist whose psychopathic lover tried to kill her. The detective on the case—a strong, sensitive man with a ``cream-your-jeans smile'' falls for Cat instantly; she begins to accept that the caregiver also needs care. Meanwhile, the Ward Two patients reach out and heal each other emotionally; all are remarkable human beings— except for the callous hospitable administrator whom (revenge!) Cat lets die when he goes into cardiac crisis. The most believable sections of the novel are the harangues about how shabbily nurses are treated. Some women will appreciate seeing an angry, loudmouthed 42-year-old with a terrible self-image get her man; overworked, underappreciated nurses may stand up and cheer. Heron's debut fiction, like Cat, uses tough talk, bathroom humor, and gross realism to cover a sentimental marshmallow core.