Send the Snowplow (5 page)

Brad took her hand and kissed it. His reply was one they’d used since college and came out as natural as breathing. “To heaven, and then some.”

***

Jaycee and Diana pushed Brad’s bed into the commons room while Valerie followed close behind them.

It looked like an arts and crafts class ran by a glitter-crazed maniac took over in her absence. Paper chains encircled the room. Paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling and the tasteful tree decor was buried under origami, ribbons, and candy canes. Jaycee’s jaw dropped. “Wow. You guys were busy while I was cooking.”

Chris looked up from his seat near Walter and grinned. “We even managed presents.” He pointed to a stack of makeshift presents, newspaper-wrapped bundles, each tied at the top with gauze wadded into what was supposed to be bows, but looked more like leftover props from
Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy.
She didn’t want to tell Marilyn, but their brand of blended mock horror and comedy were a lot more appealing to her than the gory kind. “Is that what I think it is?”

“—It’s what I could find.” Chris’s voice cut her off.

She laughed. “Not bad improvising.”

Marilyn’s distinctive voice came from across the room, “He wouldn’t let me make fake blood for the gauze!”

As Jaycee glanced down the pot filled with marinara-covered pasta, she was glad Chris had enough forethought to exercise some restraint in that area. She’d also managed garlic bread and salad to round out their Christmas dinner. Nothing spectacular, but easy trumped taste under the current circumstances. “It’s not a typical holiday feast, but at least it’s something. Let’s eat!”

Walter gave Marilyn, resplendent in her best Hollywood finery, a pointed stare. “Just so we don’t have to watch her stupid horror movies. That pasta that looks like it’s covered in blood.”

Marilyn stuck her tongue out at him. He responded by flicking his fingers under his chin at her. She glared in return, raised a fist into the air and slapped her bicep while she jerked her arm upward in a bras d’honneur, or Iberian slap. Last week’s “Godfather” movie marathon must have rubbed off on the pair.

A moment of pain stabbed at Jaycee’s heart. She knew the name of the offensive gesture because it had come up in a trivia game with Derek. She’d even had to look it up in Wikipedia to prove to him she was correct. Back in a different lifetime, one where they’d played games and laughed as a family. 

In true American style, Walter turned red and flipped her off. He bent forward and wheeled himself in Marilyn’s direction. This wasn’t going to be good. Jaycee intercepted him by pushing the food cart in his path. “Hey, Walter, how about a nice table over there?” She indicated a small table across the room.

Walter jerked his head toward Marilyn. “Just so she’s as far away as possible.”

The funny thing was, Jaycee thought the pair acted a lot more like a couple of junior high kids who liked each other, and they only way they knew to show it was to fight, rather than two dying patients who hated each other. “I don’t know why you let her get your goat like that.”

The retired CEO scowled. “See why I never got married.”

Uh huh. Jaycee shook her head and laughed. Definitely junior high. If they were lucky, they’d graduate to prom.

Chapter 10

Jaycee, along with Diana and Chris, sat in a circle in the commons room with Brad, Valerie, Harold, Walter, and Marilyn, as they prepared to exchange presents. Even though Mrs. Abadie and Mr. Grayson weren’t conscious enough to be aware of what was going on, she was glad to see that both Mr Abadie, an Imam in the local Mosque, and Mr. Grayson’s college-aged son, and daughter, joined the impromptu celebration. It grew harder on families when their loved ones reached the stage where they weren’t able to communicate, and sometimes she had to encourage them it was a necessary part of care to step away from the bedside and gain a little perspective that the world still existed outside the hospice room. In a small facility like Pleasant Meadows, it seemed like everyone looked out for each other, but it was hard on those like Brad, Marilyn, Harold, and Walter, too. A stark reminder of the sand trickling from their own hourglasses. 

Once they’d exchanged packages, everyone tore into the newspaper wrappings. Most of the gifts were re-purposed items, like books, bags of candy, and knickknacks. Lucky for Jaycee, she had a scarf she’d bought for Betsy already wrapped. In the confusion of the storm, she’d forgotten it was even in her bag, and now it came in handy. She made sure it got to Mr. Abadie for his wife. Even though she wasn’t aware of her surroundings, they were devout Muslims, and Jaycee always made sure the scarfs she wore to cover her bald scalp were secured in place in a sign of respect to their religious beliefs. The gesture was as much for her husband as for her, anyway. A way to show it didn’t matter how near death his wife might be, she still mattered.

Jaycee’s gift was a pendant with a heavy silver charm in an abstract image of a mother and child. She glanced over at Brad and Valerie and shook her head. It was too much, she couldn’t accept it. Valerie gave her a pleading smile and nodded. Her lips mouthed the word, “Please.”

She turned the necklace in her hands, then placed it around her neck, and ran her fingers over the polished silver before she looked back at Valerie and Brad. The couple held hands and beamed at her. It was all Jaycee could to to mouth her own words in return. “Thank you.”

Walter unwrapped a copy of Marilyn’s
Serial Santa
DVD. His groan echoed through the room.

***

Jaycee watched as Molly ran around in the doggy pen. The bitter cold snaked its way under her coat and spread through her body. Molly had to be just as cold, fur and all. Both she and the dog jumped as a loud series of cracks, snaps, and crashes sounded around them. The ice-laden tree branches broke in a chain reaction around them and crashed to the ground, blocking the only road in and out of the facility.

Worse yet, they took out power lines as they went. Some fell close to the chain link wire pen. Before she had time to think, Jaycee yanked the door open and clapped her gloved hands together. “Molly! Let’s go! NOW!”

The Labrador must have either sensed the urgency in her voice, or the danger itself, because she loped over in rapid steps. Together, they rushed back inside.

The only light in the entry hall was what filtered in through the shaded windows. Overhead, alarms blared and all the fire doors down the halls were closed. Those systems tripped when the power went out. Molly whined beside her. Poor thing, the sound hurt her ears, and Jaycee could only imagine how much worse it was with the increased hearing capability dogs possessed.

Jaycee sprinted toward the nurses station with Molly close on her heels. Without external windows, the area was nearly pitch-black.
Why haven’t the generators kicked on?
She pulled her cell phone out and used the back-light to locate the over-sized camping flashlight stored at the nurses station. 

She jumped as the backup generators turned on. A dim glow came from the overhead emergency lights. Enough to see, but barely. The computer screens remained dark. Even though she already knew, Jaycee grabbed the phone and put it to her ear. She clicked the receiver button a few times.

Of course not.
The flashlight cut a bright swathe of light as she headed down the hall to the commons room.

Chris almost ran her over as she neared the door. “What was that? It sounded like we were under attack.”

Jaycee laughed. “You’ve been watching too many of Marilyn’s movies. The ice brought down a bunch of tree limbs and took out the power.”

He nodded. “We got the power bit.”

“Yeah, it almost took me out, too. Those wires came down almost on top of us.” She bent down and scratched Molly’s head. “Didn’t it, girl?”

Chris’s eyes widened. He reached for her, but Jaycee jerked her head toward the assembly of patients and family members. He nodded. “Gotcha.”

Now for the fun stuff. Jaycee blew out a deep breath. “It gets worse. There was a huge chain-reaction. The entire drive to the road, and probably beyond that, are buried under tree limbs.”

“Merry effin Christmas.”

She couldn’t argue with him on that part. “Uhhh huhh.” Jaycee surveyed the frightened faces around her. “We’ve got patients that need us. Time to get to work. Go check on Mrs. Abadie and Mr. Grayson, okay?”

Chris took the flashlight she handed him and disappeared down the hall. She headed over to the huddled group of patients and families, offering words of encouragement where she could.

He returned in a few moments and pulled Jaycee aside. “No power in any of the rooms. It’s gonna get cold.”

Jaycee let out a deep sigh. “I was pretty sure that would be the case. Only partial generator power. Take Diana and get all the blankets you can find. We’ll need to move everyone down here.”

Chris motioned to Diana, and the pair headed off down the hall. She watched them leave, then pulled out her cell phone. Only half-power remained on her battery meter. She winced, but placed a call. “This is Jaycee, at Pleasant Meadows? Our power just got knocked out...”

She turned and watched Walter and Marilyn stared each other down. “You old bat, I’m glad the power’s out! This way we don’t have to watch your stupid movies again.”

Marilyn’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “I’ve come across decomposed bodies less rotted than you.”

The retired CEO snorted. “You ate paint chips as a kid, didn’t you?”

“I hope your face catches on fire, so I can put it out with a hammer. Mine from
Claw of Doom
, is on my dresser.”

“If I wanted to kill myself, I’d climb up your ego and jump down to your IQ level.”

“Tight-ass pantywaist!”

“Floozy!”

Jaycee watched as Marilyn chucked her wadded up newspaper wrapping at him. Walter retaliated by winging the remnants of his popcorn at her.
Seriously? Forget junior high, these two are in grade school.
From across the room, Harold’s face lit up. He wheeled himself into action and grabbed a couple of bags from the vending machine stash on his way past the cart. “FOOD FIGHT!” The playboy wannabe pelted Marilyn and Walter with Cheetos and beat them with licorice whips.

Definitely grade school.
Jaycee turned her attention to the dispatcher on the other end of her phone. “I’ve got a situation here. Please, for the love of everything holy, get a snowplow in here. We need relief staff. Yesterday.” She disconnected the call, then ran in to break up the melee before someone got hurt. The thought of having to describe the events in a report made her shudder.

“I am not your kindergarten teacher. I’m an exhausted nurse who’s been up for over twenty-four hours, and your chef.” She stared at the popcorn, Cheetos, bits of licorice, and newspaper, on the floor. “And now I can add cleaning lady to the list. Yippee.”

Marilyn, Walter, and Harold had the decency to at least try to look like scolded kindergartners. A moan from Brad caught Jaycee’s attention. She headed over to him. Marilyn’s exaggerated stage whisper caught her hears. “It’s your fault.”

“Is not.” Walter didn’t even fake an attempt to whisper his reply.

“I didn’t start it.”

Jaycee turned and raised a finger into the air as Harold wheeled himself back across the room. But, at least the three shut up. Mom-mode at its finest. Maybe having pre-teenagers helped her more than she knew. But, that wasn’t her concern right now. She turned her attention to Brad. She’d never seen him to the point where he couldn’t hold still in bed. Her heart broke for the young man, and for Valerie, whose eyes were so large with fear, Jaycee feared she’d need sedation herself if it got much worse. “He wants to go back to his room.”

Brad gave her an apologetic shrug. “Don’t want everyone to see me like this. Ruins Christmas.”

Jaycee shook her head and snorted. “Honey, you’re far too late for that honor. But the emergency generators don’t extend to patient rooms.” She gave Harold, Walter, and Marilyn, hard stares. “And while it might be easier to give them sleeping pills to get them out of our misery, I can’t. But, I can give you pain medicine to make this tolerable.”

Valerie squeezed his hand. Her eyes implored him and Jaycee. “Honey, you need it.”

Brad tried to raise himself off the bed, then fell back against the raised head of the bed. His muscles tensed and a moan escaped his lips. “Okay.”

Jaycee nodded. “Okay?”

His expression broke, and his voice came out barely more than a pained whisper. “Okay.”

Valerie choked out a sob. “Thank God!”

That was more than enough for her. Jaycee grabbed a flashlight and headed down the hall to the locked medication cabinet. If Marilyn, Walter, and Harold, wanted to tear apart the commons room and each other in her absence, so be it. She’d deal with the paperwork later.

Chapter 11

Only the dim emergency lights still worked in the med room. Jaycee unlocked the overhead cabinet and prepared Brad’s pain medication.

Noises from down the hall attracted her attention as she rushed to get back to Brad, and she made her way toward the sounds. She shuddered when she thought about how much pain he endured on a regular basis to spend every moment he could with his wife. Pain wasn’t her strong suit, and she didn’t think she’d be able to stand up to a fraction of what he did for Valerie. But then again... images of Clarissa and Jake flashed through her mind. No, she’d be making the same decisions. One moment of memories, or enduring pain. Yeah, for them, she’d walk through the fires of Hell themselves.

The sounds came from the physical therapy room. Jaycee quietly unlocked the door, and even through the darkness, saw Chris and Diana in the throes of passion on the low therapy bed. Her jaw dropped. Terrified of being discovered, she retreated, locked the door behind her, then ran back to the nurses station. Once there, she leaned against the wall and beat the palm of her hand against her forehead, the syringes of medication still clasped in her grip.