Covered Bridge Charm (15 page)

“She continues to struggle with it.”

After offering one of her pressed-flower invitations to the party, they got down to business. “Did you know that she had a secret boyfriend when she was sixteen?”

Ruth’s eyes lit with merriment. “I remember. Actually, it was the summer we both turned seventeen. We’d talk about it at church. I was kinda jealous. I never met him, but according to Martha, he was a handsome, charismatic young man.”

Carly held her breath, almost afraid to ask. “Do you remember his name?”

“Let me think.” She tapped the rocking chair’s wooden armrest. “Was it John?”

“That was her husband’s name.”

“Oh, yes. John Struder.”

Carly urged, “Martha told me his first name was James but she couldn’t remember his last name. I was hoping you could.”

“That’s odd. Does she have dementia?”

“No,” Carly replied, wondering if Martha had really forgotten or continued to hide her secret.

Ruth strained. “It was something foreign or fancy. I believe it was the name of a country. No, it’s not coming to me.” She stopped rocking. “Why do you ask? Is she still mooning over him?”

Adam gave Carly a tread-with-caution look.

She folded her hands. “No. She loved John. Just mentioned that she always wondered if James made it back from the war. I wish I could tell her he did.”

“That’s kind of you. All this talk stirs up a lot of memories. It’ll be fun to see Martha again. But sometimes it’s best not to know some things. If she kept him hidden then, she might not want you to dig up the past now.”

A niggle of doubt troubled Carly. Was she doing the right thing? But she’d felt God’s leading that day on the Crawfordsville Bridge. Not venturing a glance Adam’s way, she replied, “Perhaps.”

When they returned to the truck, Adam remarked over the obvious. “You look discouraged.”

“A little.”

He studied her with his deep brown gaze. “So where next?”

“I wish I knew.” Carly sighed. “Probably won’t help to stop at the bridge. Given the renovations, I’m sure their initials are gone. At least, I didn’t see them the other day.”

“Let’s swing by there on our way home.” Adam’s smile reached his warm eyes.

“Really?”

Half an hour later on the bridge, with her covering strings securely tied and her coat gripped tight, they searched the carvings that were deep enough to have survived renovations. Shuddering, she said, “He probably wrote his name first so it would be J something plus M. S.

Adam moved his brawny form to shield her from the wind. She felt his hand squeeze her shoulder and warmed from his touch and nearness.

“Better?” he asked, his masculine breath close to her ear.

She nodded, and he hugged her close as they moved along, exploring the walls. Highly aware of his protective chiseled body, she found it hard to concentrate on the initials until one jumped out at her. “Look!” She pointed. “It’s J. H. + M. S.”

Adam ran a finger over the carving and hugged her. It was barely visible beneath the layers of paint, and with a good imagination, it could be a J. Or an I. Even an L. But she looked so hopeful. “This might be it.”

Elated, she replied, “Now if only we could find an old phone book.”

“Simon’s computer would be faster. Let’s go.” He took her hand and drew her toward the truck.

But she dragged her feet regarding the use of Simon’s computer. “Oh, I don’t know. He probably wouldn’t approve. And just because we found a likely match doesn’t mean it’s
their
initials.”

“I’ve been meaning to call Dale. He has a computer for his work. I’ll bet he’d search it out for us.”

Unease rose up and stole her breath. She stared at the ground. “I didn’t know you stayed in touch.”

“We were close as kids.”

“I don’t know.”

“Carly?” He halted, tipped up her chin, and searched her gaze, and she felt as though this was about more than a computer search.

Her mouth went dry.
Let it be,
she inwardly moaned.

Adam squeezed her shoulder. “Let me handle it.”

At the truck, she turned to face him. “Thanks for everything. This may turn out to be a wild-goose chase, but your help means a lot to me.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, Carly. Today was way more fun than Tag Your Own Tree Day.”

“It was,” she replied, only she was positive their time together meant more to her than it had to him.

A
s she stepped into Dot’s room to administer morning meds, Carly’s mind was occupied with Martha’s former sweetheart. She’d have to find a tactful way to jog Martha’s memory again. She automatically checked the thermostat as Dot couldn’t remember how to adjust the mechanism and often had the temperature set at some extreme. It was a cycle with Dot. She grew uncomfortable, then fiddled with the dial, again, having no idea whether she was setting the heater or the air conditioner.

In general, Mondays at Sweet Life could be difficult as residents needed to recover from the weekend’s visitors or lack of them. Dot was up and dressed, sitting at a small table with two chairs. In her elderly throaty voice, she repetitiously sang “Little lamb, little lamb, little lamb.” Next to her, the bird’s cage remained covered.

Spying a new coloring page attached to Dot’s magnetic calendar—which reminded her which day they took her laundry and which days they helped her shower—Carly asked, “Did your grandchildren visit?”

“‘Little lamb.’ They sure like Birdie, but it’s almost too much for him the way they poke their little fingers into its cage. The little lamb will probably sleep all day.”

“Shall we remove its cover and see?”

“Yes, let’s give Birdie a choice.”

The comment reminded Carly everyone needed to maintain a sense of dignity, even when they needed others to care for them. As Carly removed the cover, Birdie chirped gratefully. Shredded candy wrappers covered the floor of the birdcage, and she figured Dot was right about the grandkids. Next she unlocked the medicine drawer and got the meds and water ready. “You’re up early.” She waited for Dot to take the meds.

“Really? I was afraid I missed breakfast.”

“Why don’t you take these pills? It’s still a little early for breakfast.”

Dot gulped the water and coughed. “Yuck, one melted in my mouth.”

“Let me see.”

Dot opened her mouth wide.

“Lift your tongue. I think you got it all. Drink some more water.”

“Just a little. I’m full from breakfast.”

When Dot started cooing at Birdie, Carly slipped out of the room. After she finished her rounds, having helped several residents dress, she moved to the receptionist’s desk to update their files.

Sherie popped her head out of the staff room. “See me when you get a moment?”

“How about now?” Carly followed her in and took a seat beside the mini fridge.

“Did you see the roof?” Sherie asked.

“No. What happened?”

“Wind blew off some tile. Simon’s in a snit.”

“They should replace the whole thing,” Carly remarked.

“If the money was there, I’m sure the roof would get replaced. For now, it’s getting repaired. How did your rounds go?” When it came to Simon, Sherie always played the middle road.

“A little slow. Repeater was missing the new puzzle his daughter brought him on Sunday. I found it under Klepto’s bedcovers. She clawed me good.” Carly displayed her forearm.

Sherie gasped. “Be sure it’s noted in the files and better have the nurse look at it.”

“It’s fine. Anyway, I took her one of the house puzzles, but she wasn’t satisfied. She wanted the new one. I’m going to bring one in for her. It’ll keep her in her room for a while.”

“Good idea. If she likes doing them and it keeps her from roaming in and out of everyone’s rooms, I’ll personally see that we keep her well supplied.” Sherie stretched out her slack-clad legs and crossed her arms. “You like making phone calls, Carly? I mean I’ve seen you carry a cell phone, and you handle yourself nicely when you answer the center’s line.”

She felt irritated at her supervisor’s patronizing manner. “I don’t use it much. The church doesn’t exactly endorse it. It’s one of those gray areas. But living alone, it comes in handy.”

“This would be strictly business. I could use your help making some cold calls for volunteers. I’d write the script for you.”

It hadn’t occurred to Carly to make cold calls. She’d envisioned riding her bike to call on people from her church, talking face to face and putting up posters. Not reading somebody else’s script. “Would there be a lot of calls?”

“Yes. And it would be after hours, of course.”

“
H-mm
. I have another project going. I’ll have to think about it.”

Sherie’s lips parted in surprise. “This volunteer program was your idea. I thought you’d be all over this.”

Carly stared at the carpet as bitterness welled up in her heart. The Lord’s admonition to forgive came to mind. Could she help with a tweaked plan, confined to a script? Would it be easier to forgive Simon and Sherie if she stayed away from the program altogether or joined in to assist them?
Lord, help me here.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line. Go ahead and think about it. But please, don’t take too long.”

Standing, Carly met Sherie’s eyes. “Okay, thanks. Anything else?”

“No.”

Eager to be out of the room, Carly almost ran into the resident nurse, Linda Lehman. “Oh, sorry.”

“No it was my fault.”

“Is somebody ill?” Carly asked. “Yes, Miranda’s cleaning up a mess in Kenneth’s room.” Kenneth was the resident they referred to as the General. An ex-air force pilot, he had also worked for Intelligence. “He has a fever. We’ll have to keep him secluded. I gave instructions to Miranda and will check back on him.”

Poor woman, forever bustling here and there, needed everywhere. She thought about showing her the scratches on her arm but, noticing the dark circles under Linda’s eyes, thought better of it.

Next the caregivers rounded up the residents for breakfast, and Carly paused at Martha’s chair. “You want to read the paper together later?”

“Not today, dearie,” she wheezed. “I think I’m allergic to Dot’s bird.”

Dot gasped. “That’s absurd. I’m clear across the hall.”

Martha’s voice wobbled, “I’m not blaming you. Just not feeling good.”

Dot got up from her chair. “I’ll take breakfast in my room.” She stormed away.

Carly slid into the empty chair and patted Martha’s hand. “It’s been so windy. Must be pollen got inside.”

“I’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

“Music!” Repeater shouted. “We need music.”

Carly smiled. “I believe you’re right. Put on something cheery, Miranda.”

On Thursday after working her shift, Carly felt unusually weary and cold and was looking forward to turning in early and snuggling beneath her mother’s yummy yellow quilt. It was leftovers night, so dinner would be easy. Then a nice bubble bath and an evening with Cocoa and a book.

First, however, she needed to check out her arm, which had gotten some red streaks. She popped her head inside the nurse’s office, pleased to see Linda sitting at the computer, looking somewhat composed. When she looked up, her eyes widened. “Everything all right?”

“With the residents. I’ve got a couple scratches I want you to see.”

“Sure. Sit down.”

Carly pushed up her sleeve to reveal the red, swollen marks.

Linda instantly went to work, cleansing with an antiseptic wipe that burned. “It’s good you came. Those are infected.”

“Sherie warned me to come in when it happened.”

After taking Carly’s temperature, Linda asked, “When was that?”

Carly thought a moment. “Three days ago.”

“Yes, next time don’t wait so long. You’ve got a slight fever. Use this ointment on it, and I’ll get Dr. Rink to send an antibiotic to your pharmacy.”

“Thanks.” Carly eyed Linda’s tropical calendar. “Ever been to any of those places?”

“No. But as soon as I retire—in exactly 751 days—hubby and I are traveling. It’s what keeps me going.”

“Sherie’s working on a volunteer program. Could you use that kind of help?”

Linda’s eyes brightened. “You bet I could. Where do I sign up?”

Chuckling, Carly said, “Just ask her about it. Maybe she can do something for you.”

“Are you going back to assisted living?”

“I can. What do you need?”

Linda smiled with relief. “Can you get this inhaler to Martha? She might need it tonight.”

Nodding, Carly agreed. Her arm stung, and she felt even wearier as she returned to the assisted-living building.

Miranda, who had an occasional night shift, looked up with surprise. “Forget something?”

“Linda asked me to give this inhaler to Martha.”

“I was about to check on her. She just darted through the hall looking disturbed. Let me know what’s going on before you leave.”

“Sure.”

As Carly stepped into the hall, Martha burst out of her room. “Carly! Where’s Dot?”

“I don’t know. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find her.”

“I’ll help you look.”

Together, they checked Dot’s room. She wasn’t there. Next they tried the kitchen since she always thought it was meal time. Martha’s breaths came too rapidly from the exertion, and Carly had her wait in the lobby while she alerted Miranda. Sherie covered the floor while the caregivers checked the library and returned to Dot’s room again. They even looked under the bed. They searched every room in assisted living. Dot was nowhere to be found.