Blackout (14 page)

“Of course.” Donald came around the desk, took off his tool belt, and hung it on a hook near the door. They left the office, Donald stopping to lock up. “I’m beginning to wonder if…”

“What?” Betty asked as they moved quickly down the hall.

“If working here might be too much for her.”

“Hard to say,” Betty told him. “She has to do something. Can’t sit around doing nothing at Hannah’s.”

“That’s true. But still.”

Alice sat chatting with Betty Senior, and she quickly stood up when she saw them. When she did so, the little color she had drained from her face. She held on to the chair arm for support.

Donald went to her. “Are you all right?”

She smiled faintly at him and asked Betty, “Is Lettie okay?”

Betty nodded. “I checked. Nothing broken. They’re putting her to bed.”

Murmuring good-byes, Donald and Alice left the room.

Betty sank into the chair beside her mother’s bed. She felt so tired suddenly, as if she’d been running uphill, had finally arrived at the top, and could relax a little. But she couldn’t rest. She needed to see Katherine about Margaret and Thomas about Lettie.

She stood up again.

“You seem worn out,” Betty Senior said. “Why don’t you unwind a minute? Have you even had lunch? I bet you didn’t stop to eat.”

“I’ll be okay, Ma. I need to talk to Katherine. I’ll come by again before I leave for the day.”

Betty Senior grimaced and rolled her eyes with a look of resignation. “Oh, all right. Turn the sound back on the TV, will you?”

“Sure.” Betty clicked the remote button. “See you later.”

“Later.” Betty Senior’s eyes followed a game show.

Katherine was sitting at her desk signing checks and memos when Betty arrived. Sighing with relief at finally finding her alone, Betty entered and sat in the visitor’s chair. Katherine glanced up, but then went back to signing her name.

“Be right with you,” she said.

Betty took the time to relax. She noticed Katherine wore her red power suit with the head-of-a-lion pin on the lapel. A white, high-necked blouse completed the outfit, and Betty bet herself Katherine had kicked-off red pumps under the desk.

Finally, Katherine finished and rang for Jenny to come get the checks and memos. After her assistant left, she leaned back in her chair and smiled at Betty. “What’s new?” she asked, picking up her pen and threading it through her fingers. “How’d it go with what’s-his-name, the reporter?”

“Foster Cullen. I think it went well. He sort of did his own thing—asking everybody questions, poking around. We saw them wheel Mrs. Stevenson out. He wanted to know all about her.”

“Yes, it’s a shame.” Katherine put the pen down and leaned forward in her chair. “Do you think his article will be favorable?”

“I’m sure it will be. But, Katherine, I need to talk to you about a couple of things. Margaret, for one. I’m almost positive she’s switching the meat for meat with filler, jeopardizing our residents’ health. I saw her do it earlier today.”

“What happened?” Katherine’s smooth brow furrowed, and she picked up her pen again, flipping it back and forth between thumb and forefinger.

Betty told her what she’d seen in the kitchen. “It would explain the increase in decubs, Katherine. We need to see if she’s cheating them in other ways, too. One of her aides put me wise to it, and I saw her switching product with a man earlier today.”

“I’ll check into it,” Katherine said halfheartedly.

“Katherine, I can’t believe you! What’s wrong? This department head yells at her staff, and now I’m accusing her of a crime, and you weakly say you’ll check into it? Are you in cahoots with her or something?”

Katherine flinched, and her eyes widened with surprise. “Of course not,” she said with some heat. “How could you think such a thing?

“Because you’re avoiding taking care of the matter. What am I supposed to think? You’re the administrator, and I expect you to take charge here. She’s a dud, and the sooner you admit it, get rid of her, and hire someone else, the better.”

“Listen here, Betty.” Katherine leaned across her desk. “You know it’s not that simple. She’s the type who would sue us. I’ll have to check with Maxwell, see what we should do. He’ll want to get hold of someone in the legal department so we can cover all our bases. Another day or two won’t make any difference in this case. You need to calm down and think things through here a little bit.”

“I won’t be calm when the residents’ health and employee morale is at stake, Katherine. I admit I’ve never liked Margaret, but I don’t believe that’s coloring my perceptions. I want her gone yesterday.”

“Well,” Katherine said, leaning back in her chair, “what you want and what you’ll get won’t be the same in this case. This is going to take some time. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s the end of the discussion. Did you need to see me about anything else?” She picked up her pen again and threaded it through her fingers.

Betty sat, seething. She wanted to get up and leave. Leave the building, go home to her parrot and her plants. But she couldn’t, of course. Wouldn’t. She felt the weight of her responsibilities like a physical presence, pressing down on her shoulders. Absently, she rubbed her neck and glared at Katherine.

“I have received a report, unsubstantiated, of resident abuse. At least verbal, perhaps physical. I’m keeping an eye on the aide and will keep you informed.”

Katherine quirked her eyebrows. “What, you’re not going to fire her right away?” she asked sarcastically. “Who is it? And who made the accusation?”

“All right,” Betty said, a jolt of dislike going through her, surprising her. Until now, she’d always liked and respected Katherine. She kept her voice calm. “You’ve made your point. Of course I won’t fire her until I have further proof. It’s Nancy Manelli. Kind of keep a watch, too, will you?”

“Of course. And who’s the accuser? Does she, or he, have an axe to grind you know of?”

“No, no grudges. Actually, she says Nancy threatened her, and she’s scared now. Claims she saw Nancy tell a resident to shut up and shake the patient’s wheelchair. Nancy didn’t know she’d seen her once before and she’d told Brenda about it. Nancy saw the other aide watching her the second time and then warned her not to tell, or she’d get hurt.”

Katherine didn’t press for the name. “Okay. You seem to be on top of the situation. Anything else?”

Betty looked at her own watch and said, “Yes. I’m concerned about Lettie Black. She fell down this afternoon.” At Katherine’s look of alarm, she said hastily, “She’s all right. But I’m sure the medication was a factor. I’ll talk to her husband about it, but I thought you should know.”

Katherine nodded.

“And last, I hired a new aide today. His references check out, and he’ll start Monday. Alice Strong can then begin working with Yolanda.”

“Good,” Katherine said. “I’ll monitor how that goes. Anything else?”

Before Betty could answer, Jenny’s voice came over the intercom.

“Your mother is on line two, Katherine.”

The administrator started. “I wonder what…” She picked up the phone, punched two, and said, “Mom, what’s going on?”

Betty watched with concern as the color left Katherine’s face. White as alabaster, she gripped her pen so hard her knuckles turned equally pale.

“Slow down, Mom, please. What do the doctors at the hospital say?” She listened some more and shook he head. “Now don’t you worry. I’ll get there as fast as I can. … Yes, I’ll be careful.
You
be careful. Take care of yourself and Dad until I get there. … Yes. … I love you, too. I should be there in four to five hours. Hang tight until then. … Yes. … Good-bye.” Her hand shook as she replaced the receiver.

“Are you all right?” Betty asked. “Can I get you some water?”

Katherine swallowed hard. “No. No, I’ll be okay. It’s my father. He’s had a stroke.”

“Oh, Katherine! I’m so sorry. Is he…”

“He’s alive, paralyzed on the right side.” She shuddered.

“What can I do to help?”

Katherine looked around the office with a dazed expression. “I don’t know. I have to drive up to Oregon…”

“Why don’t you fly up? Rent a car there?”

“What? Oh, I always drive. I didn’t think of flying.”

“Let me get Jenny in here. She can check on flights for you. Someone can take you to the airport. You go home and pack. Jenny will call you with flight information. We’ll get someone, maybe Donald, or Jenny, to take you. Anything here that’s urgent I should take care of for you?”

“No, no,” Katherine said slowly. “I’m pretty much caught up. Call Maxwell, let him know. He’ll have to sit in as administrator until I get back. Oh, Betty,” she said, her voice anguished. She covered her eyes with her hand. “He’s only sixty-eight, for heaven’s sake.”

“I know,” Betty soothed. “It’ll be all right. Right now we have to get you to him. Go home and pack. You can drive?” Katherine nodded as Betty stood up and came around to the side of the desk. “I’ll take care of everything,” she said, helping the other woman to her feet.

“Thank you,” Katherine said. “I’m sorry to do this to you with so much going on—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll cope. I always do.”

Katherine gave her a wan smile, and they went out to the reception area.

What else can I do but cope,
Betty thought. Unbidden, a sudden image of her ma, hands folded over her stomach, came to mind. Betty pushed the memory away.
Don’t go searching for trouble,
she told herself.
You’ve got enough as it is.

Donald and Alice walked to the employee parking lot. Still dazed, Alice waited while Donald opened the door for her.

“Want to talk?” he asked as he cranked the ignition.

She shook her head.

“You should, you know. No one can help you if you don’t speak up.” He sounded exasperated.

She turned her head away from him and stared hard out the window so she wouldn’t cry. Everyone told her she needed to talk to them. Well, she didn’t feel like it most of the time. It hurt too much.

In less than five minutes they arrived at Hannah’s. Alice got out of the car by herself.

“Thanks for the ride, Donald. Go on back to work. I’ll be fine.”

“It’ll only take a minute to see you in,” he told her. Leaving the engine running, he bounded up the walkway to catch up with her.

Alice shook her head, smiling weakly. “I’m home,” she called, opening the screen door.

Hannah came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

“You’re early.” She gave Alice a worried look. “Hi, Donald. What’s going on?”

“Betty asked me to bring Alice home. She’s not feeling well.”

“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked.

“I’ve got to get back,” Donald said, his voice apologetic.

“Of course,” Hannah replied. “Thanks for driving her home.” She turned to Alice. “What happened?”

“I’m all right. Really. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“You never want to talk about anything.” Hannah’s voice sounded annoyed. “It’s not good for you, Alice. You need to open up.”

Alice’s anger flared again, and she surprised them both when she shouted, “I said not now!”

Hannah appeared stricken. Alice turned away and ran to her room, closing the door harder than she usually did. She plunked herself down on the bed, kicking off her shoes.

She closed her eyes, but they wouldn’t stay shut. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to think. But she couldn’t seem to direct her thoughts back to the images she’d seen earlier.

Annoyed with herself, she got up and searched for the sketchbook she’d bought on impulse a few days ago. She had no idea if she could even draw, but she decided to try.

Sitting on the bed cross-legged, Alice sketched for over an hour, surprised and delighted at her ability with her pencil. She allowed her mind to direct her hand without conscious thought, and when at last she could not remember another detail to draw, she put down the pencil and wiggled her cramped fingers.

She’d finished four sketches, and she studied each one carefully.

The first showed a large clapboard house set in a field. Obviously a farmhouse, it stood three stories, straight up and down. A brick chimney rose up on each side. She had drawn no bushes or flowers around the foundation. The soft pencil lines gave it a fuzzy appearance she somehow knew was false. She remembered the house, but for some reason the drawing didn’t help her remember anything else.

The second sketch showed the rear of the farmhouse, almost identical to the front except for a porch along the whole back.

The third picture made her frown. She took deep breaths as she stared at the image of the two old people lying on the floor. She knew they were dead. She had been unable to sketch their faces. She knew the woman had only half her face left, and Alice couldn’t bring herself to draw it. The man’s head bent at an odd angle. Alice had outlined her own back with the back of a man standing next to her, his right arm dangling by his side, his hand clutching a gun. They were all in a kitchen. She had sketched in the stove, refrigerator, and counter tops. A door to the laundry stood open behind the old people.

The laundry! Something had happened in the laundry! She stared at the drawing, trying to remember. Another image came to her. Nana had something in her hands and rushed with it to the laundry room. Pictures. She had pictures, and she threw them into a cup of lye. Why?

The memory faded slowly away. Alice pounded her fists on her thighs in frustration. Her eyes fell on the final sketch. A pickup truck she didn’t recognize was crumpled against a tree. She felt the cold metal of the door handle, felt herself flying out of the vehicle and rolling, rolling down a long hill.

Who had been driving the truck? It had to have been the man who held the gun in the kitchen. Had he kidnapped her? She couldn’t be sure. She didn’t remember being afraid of him. Maybe she’d been his partner. He must have killed those two old people, and she ran away with him, didn’t she? Oh, what if she’d helped him kill them? That could be why she couldn’t remember. She couldn’t
bear
to remember. But she needed to. She had to.

She thought the accident must have been the last thing that happened to her before Donald picked her up on the side of the road. What had happened to the man driving? Was he even alive?