Blackout (16 page)

Why couldn’t she remember her mother? Her mind veered away from that question.

He’d said she was seventeen. She could be eighteen by now, but felt much older. She most likely hadn’t finished high school.

Random thoughts swirled through her mind. Why had they been running away? She knew it had had something to do with the old couple on the kitchen floor. Her father must have shot one or both of them. But why? And what had he meant when he’d said, “With my record, they’d put me in jail for the rest of my life?” What had he done before that day to have a record?
Oh, why couldn’t she remember?
Her mind seemed to have a section where she couldn’t go. A place with a wall she couldn’t climb over.

She wondered what state they were from. If she knew that, wouldn’t it help her find out other things?

Alice dropped her head into her hands. A dull ache began behind her eyes, and she rubbed them absently. She realized the old couple must have been her grandparents, and her father had killed them because of something she had done. But what? What could she have done that would make him need to kill his parents? She simply could not remember. And her name.
What was her name?
She felt somehow if she could remember that, she might remember everything.

A young man in scrubs came over to them. Alice glanced at the clock. They’d been in the waiting room for hours.

“Winston family?” he asked. When they nodded, he said, “I’m Dr. Alverez. Mrs. Winston is being taken to room 409. Her hip is indeed broken, and we’ll keep her here several days. You can see her again for a few minutes, but she’s heavily sedated now and needs to rest.” He pointed to the elevators and went back toward the ER.

They found Hannah in traction, dozing, so only stayed a few minutes to reassure themselves she’d be all right. Promising they’d visit the next day, they left her and drove back to Valleyview, Alice napping, exhausted.

Donald woke her when he stopped the car. He came around and helped her out.

“Where are we?” she asked, dazed.

“My place. I’m going to call Betty and see if she can take you in for a while. You can’t stay alone at Hannah’s.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because.”

Donald opened the door, and they went inside. “Can I get you a soda?”

“Please,” Alice said.

“Have a seat.” He led her into his living room. Then he went to the kitchen and came back with two cans of root beer. “Hope this is okay.”

Alice nodded at him.

“You all right?”

“Yes.”
No
, she thought,
I’m not all right. I’m a mess.
She took a sip of root beer to cover her confusion.

Donald walked around the living room, stopping at last at the mantel. On it sat a small silver sword plunged into a rock. Excalibur, Alice remembered. Did Donald long for Camelot? And did he think of himself as King Arthur or Sir Lancelot? She guessed King Arthur since he had the sword. How did all that fit in with his religion?

“I’ll call Betty,” Donald said.

“Why can’t I stay at Hannah’s?”

“Because… because no one’s there. I’d worry about you.”

Too tired to argue, his concern warmed her. She closed her eyes as Donald went to the kitchen to use the phone.
I won’t think about anything more,
she told herself.
I’ll sit here and relax
.

But it was impossible. Her mind swirled with thoughts of her father, the accident, Hannah, and Donald talking in the kitchen.

She’d talk to Betty. Betty could help her.
If I don’t find my father soon, I don’t know what I’ll do,
Alice thought numbly.
I can’t go on like this much longer.

Betty hung up the phone and sat for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Katherine should be in the air right now, on her way to Oregon. Maxwell would be here in the morning to hang up his administrator’s license in order to meet the federal requirement until Katherine returned. But he had eight other centers to oversee as well, so she knew she would do the majority of the day-to-day work.

Betty sighed and rubbed her eyes. She needed to check with Rita about the nursing department and go see Ma. Again, she saw those crossed arms. She battled the urge to go check right away. Ma was the most looked-after resident in the home. Someone would tell her right away if anything was wrong. At the nursing rotunda, Rita sat, head bent over a chart.
At least I have a dependable assistant
, Betty thought.

Rita glanced up and smiled. “You still here?”

“You, too?” Betty replied. “Just two old war-horses, aren’t we?”

Rita nodded and closed the chart.

“You heard about Katherine’s emergency?” Betty asked.

“Yes. I was sorry to hear about it.”

“Me, too, it’s too bad. So, tell me. Anything I should know about in nursing?”
What more was there to say about Katherine until they knew more?
Words were inadequate, anyway
, Betty thought.

Rita pulled four charts as Betty walked around to the inside of the nursing station. They sat down, and Rita opened the first one.

“Miss Jefferies managed to pull out her feeding tube. Quite a mess. But she’s cleaned up, and the tube’s reinserted.”

Betty nodded. “She settle down?”

“Yes. We think she may have had a seizure, so Dr. Henderson is going to do an EEG tomorrow.”

At least she’s one resident Margaret can’t harm,
Betty thought ruefully. How much longer would that woman be food service manager now that Katherine was away?

“Okay, what else?” she asked.

“Dana Griffith. Her arthritis is much worse, and she won’t take any pain medicine. She went to Activities this afternoon, but then got back in bed and refused to go to the dining room for supper. Not like her at all.”

“No, it’s not,” Betty agreed. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. We had four new admits today. One is particularly interesting. A Mr. Curuso. He had a stroke five or six days ago and no one found him until the day before yesterday. He had been lying on his stomach on the kitchen floor all that time. The decubs are horrendous. He’s still unconscious, which in his case is a blessing, believe me. Anyway, the hospital couldn’t do anything more for him, so they transferred him here.”

“Okay. I’ll check on him before I leave, too. Any relatives?”

“They’re still checking on that.”

Betty nodded and waited for Rita to open the fourth chart.

“Then there’s Lettie,” Rita said slowly. “Dr. Henderson checked her over and said she looked remarkably well. No bruises or contusions, nothing broken, as we already knew. He seemed quite amazed. Anyway, he’s cut back a little on her medication. The thing is, her wandering has barely decreased with the dose she’s on now. I don’t know what good a lower dose will do.”

“Second-guessing the good doctor?” Betty grinned at Rita. “Tsk, tsk.”

Rita laughed and closed the chart with a snap. “Sure I’ll question him. He’s not here all day long to make observations.”

“It’s all trial and error, Rita. You know that.” Betty sighed. “But you’re right to wonder if medicating Lettie is such a good idea. I’ve wondered from the beginning. Well,” she said, standing up. “Enough fretting about something we have no control over. If there’s nothing else, I’ll go visit those four residents, then peek in on Ma and get the hell out of here. What time is it?” She glanced at her watch. “Six twenty? Oh, no! I forgot! I’ve got to make a phone call.”

Ignoring Rita’s puzzled expression, Betty, angry with herself, rushed back to her office. What would Thomas think? In all the excitement with Katherine, she’d entirely forgotten they had a date in ten minutes. She stopped at her office door, realizing she didn’t know Thomas’s phone number. She’d have to get it from Lettie’s chart. She glanced at her watch again. Six twenty-five. He must already be on the way to her house. She’d go home, meet him, and explain. Dashing back to the rotunda, she told Rita she’d be back in half an hour. “Go home, Rita. Let whoever’s charge nurse tonight take over.”

“One last chart to finish, then I’ll leave,” Rita reassured her.

Thomas stepped out of his car in front of her house as Betty pulled up in her Caddy.

“You just getting home?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said. “Come on in for a minute while I explain.”

Inside, she told him to sit down and asked if he wanted something to drink, feeling impatient about having to go through the courtesy when she had so much to do.

“No, thanks,” he said, taking a seat on the sofa. “What’s going on?”

Betty sat on the edge of a chair and told him about her day.

“Sounds like you could use a break. I’ll wait while you get ready. Don’t hurry,” Thomas said.

Betty shook her head, tired, but the need to get back driving her. She couldn’t end her day without seeing Ma. “You don’t understand, Thomas. I have to go back. I need to check on four residents. One of them is Lettie. She’s all right, but she fell down earlier this afternoon. Dr. Henderson has seen her, and nothing’s broken, or even bruised.”

Thomas jumped up, running his hand through his hair and scowling. “You sure she’s all right? Why wasn’t I called? Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

“It’s not policy to tell family members about an incident that doesn’t have any real consequences, Thomas. Frankly, I didn’t even think of calling you. She’s fine, believe me. Anyway, I can’t go out with you tonight. I haven’t seen Mother enough today, and I always do before I leave, at least. Can we take a rain check?”

“I want to see Lettie, anyway. How long will it take you back at Merry Hills?”

“An hour or two. I can’t really say. As long as it takes.”

“Look,” Thomas said, sitting back down on the sofa but leaning toward her. “It’s only six forty now. We could still go out to eat afterward. You have to eat. You go back, and I’ll follow you and visit Lettie for a few minutes. After that I’ll go home, then meet you back here at, say eight thirty.”

Betty studied his face for a moment. His eyes pleaded as he smiled, and she could feel his concern for her. A yearning overcame her. A need to be with him, to talk to him. She felt it as a physical desire, a powerful force pulling her toward him. She felt relaxed, open to the feeling, and tense, anxious to be with him. She was also shocked at herself. Her emotions were getting to be more like Katherine’s every day.

Why not,
she asked herself angrily. Why couldn’t she enjoy his company, without guilt, for an hour or two after putting in the day she had?

“You’re right. I have to eat. I’ll meet you back here at eight thirty.”

He grinned at her as he stood up. “Great.”

They left the house together, and Betty drove as fast as she dared back to Merry Hills, Thomas following. She hadn’t felt this way in years. Maybe she ought to tell him she couldn’t see him at all. Ever. Or at least while Lettie was alive. But she didn’t want to do that.

At the nursing rotunda, Betty pulled the four charts and headed toward Miss Jefferies’s room.

The hall lights cast the same bright glow as they did in daylight, but many of the rooms were already dark, and the quiet contrasted strongly with the daytime hubbub. No housekeepers used noisy machinery, and only one or two wheelchairs squeaked down the halls. Laundry carts had been put away. Several residents already slept in darkened rooms. Others watched televisions, those with roommates using earphones.

Betty found Miss Jefferies in a fetal position in the near bed, her fisted hands on her upper chest. Betty checked the feeding tube and the documentation, avoiding looking at the scowling face of the resident. Every minute or so the face grimaced into an ugly mask, then relaxed back into its usual frown. Betty could never decide if these residents felt pain or not. Always going on the assumption they could, she insisted her staff treat them gently. The tendency was strong to give them cursory care and to talk about inappropriate things in their hearing.

She stroked Miss Jefferies’s forehead, trying to ease away the frown. How little we know, she thought. Is there a trapped soul in there, waiting to go to heaven? Or is the body merely a now-useless husk, better off dead? Betty had long ago decided since humankind did not have any answers, the thing to do was to take care of the body as best as she knew how. She’d let others worry about the soul. Her thoughts turned suddenly to Ida Perkins and Mrs. Lacy. Had someone hastened them along the way to death? She hoped not, prayed not. She should check their charts again. See if anything odd showed up. She smiled ruefully to herself. Just what I need. Another problem to take care of.

She next stopped in Mr. Curuso’s room. She could smell the sores as she entered. Mr. Curuso had been positioned flat on his back, arms to his sides, his feet held straight up with a rolled blanket pressed against his soles to prevent foot drop. His clenched fists held rolled washcloths. She checked the feeding-tube site, the IV, and his bandages on nose, chin, forearms, torso, knees—everywhere he’d lain for so long. Satisfied, she made a note in his chart and left.

When Betty entered the next room, she found Lettie, earphones in place, sitting in a chair and watching television. Betty glanced at the TV, curious to see what had Lettie’s attention. MTV! Betty almost laughed out loud. The glow from the set lit Lettie’s round, smiling face. She swayed slightly to the beat, her hands tapping the arms of the chair. Fireworks exploded on the screen and then the camera came in for a close-up on a singer Betty had never seen before. Lettie clapped her hands in delight. She turned her head and, seeing Betty, removed her earphones.

“Do you know me?” she asked.

Betty kept the smile on her face. “Of course, I do, Lettie. Do you know me?”

Lettie looked startled for a moment, then smiled, too. “You’re Betty.”

“Yes, that’s right. I came to see how you are after your fall today.”

“Hurt my tush.”

“Did you? Is it better now?”

“Yes. Better. But I don’t want to fall again.”

“Of course you don’t. Did you slip on something? Do you remember?”

Lettie shook her head. “Didn’t slip. Floor spun around, made me fall. I didn’t like it.”

“I see,” Betty said. “But you’re okay now, right?”