Stay Tuned (25 page)

As we screamed across town, Rick doing eighty in the news van, we rounded corners almost on two wheels. The locket on my necklace from Candace swung from side to side wildly. I grasped hold of it and squeezed as tightly as I could.

Believe. Believe.

As we listened to the static from the scanner, the dispatcher confirmed my worst fears.
Structure fire…Magnolia Woods. Rear building fully engulfed.

That was better news. The rear building—which connected to the main residence area through a short hallway—housed the kitchen, dining room, and the beauty shop. The residents’ rooms were in front.

I bowed my head, and prayed.
Please Lord, let Mother and the other people at the nursing home be all right. I know I haven’t been the best daughter, mother, and wife, but if it is Your will, please spare her life. I need to tell her I love her.

Rick gripped the wheel. “Just hang on, Melissa. We’ll get there.”

I counted back from one hundred to keep calm. Trees and houses flashed by the window. Sirens wailed a few blocks away. People were standing out in their front yards, craning their necks for a glimpse of what might be causing all the chaos.

“Tell you what,” Rick said a calm voice. “You just go on and find out about your mother. I can get the video myself until we get a handle on things. You call in and give Drew updates.”

 
Rick pulled up, tires screeching. He threw the news van into park, jumped out, and ran to the back to grab equipment.

 
“Oh, no!” For a second, I couldn’t move my arms or legs. The scene paralyzed me.

Even as a new reporter, I had always been awe-struck by the power a fire commanded over a house or building. It defied anything trying to stop it. Today was no exception.

Red and orange flames leapt high into the air from behind the main building. Smoke billowed in dark gusts through the trees, whose overhanging limbs were charred. At least a half-dozen fire trucks were parked haphazardly around the grounds of the nursing home. Firemen, in shiny yellow suits and black hats, scrambled to unroll miles of water hoses.

Spray was already shooting from one truck, white froth bursting from the nozzle. Rick, a safe distance away, had the camera already rolling. He was bent over, watching through the viewfinder and talking on his cell phone.

The fire chief stood at the open door of his SUV, barking orders into a walkie-talkie and directing the action. A few police officers had arrived on the scene and were holding back the gathering crowd of onlookers.

Finally, I saw what I was looking for. Three ambulances, lights flashing, were parked on the far side of the lawn at least five hundred yards away. I jumped out of the news van, and sprinted in that direction. So many people lived in Magnolia Woods. At least a dozen others worked there on any given shift.

As I ran, I counted only a handful—maybe ten—elderly people in wheelchairs being attended to by paramedics.

None were my mother.

I stumbled over a tree branch and caught myself before I hit the ground. Fragments of conversation floated toward me as I made my way closer to the ambulances. Paramedics rushed from resident to resident, checking pulses and taking blood pressure measurements.

“Needs oxygen…possible smoke inhalation…”

“…may need to transfer…”

“Eighty-year-old white male, history of chest pain…”

A few employees milled around, looking helpless and upset. One sat on the ground, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. I didn’t see Sharice.

The fire chief paced back and forth in front of me. With a shaking hand, I tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me. I’m Melissa Moore from WSGA. I needed to ask a question, please.”

He whirled around and his eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. “Sorry, I don’t have time to do an interview right now.” He stalked away from me.

I chased after him and caught up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t explain myself.”

Firemen wheeled out several other residents, all who looked dazed and frightened. I scanned their faces. None of them were Mother.

“You see,” I started to say, and then choked up. “My mother is a resident here.” I sucked in a ragged breath and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “I don’t know where she is. I’m frightened because she has dementia. She might not know to come out.”

Disjointed as my story was, the chief seemed to understand.

“All right. I’ll see what I can find out.” He walked over to the woman who appeared to be in charge of the ladies’ auxiliary and motioned in my direction as he spoke. “This lady from the television station says her mother lives here.”

The woman in charge looked down at her clipboard. “I have a list of people here. We’ve been checking off names as the residents are brought out. Who’s your mother, darling?”

“Bailey. Ruth Anne,” I answered quickly, glancing around to make sure I hadn’t missed her. “She’s almost eighty, in a wheelchair,” I stopped, realizing I was describing almost every female resident in the building. “She has dementia.”

The woman bobbed her head. “Most of the residents are out of the building. A few have been taken to the hospital. But I don’t see your mother’s name.”

My heart skipped and raced with worst-case scenarios.
She’s trapped, screaming in pain, she can’t get out.
Without thinking, I began to run full-speed toward the building.

A huge muscular arm in a fireman’s uniform caught me around the waist and held me back. “Miss, you can’t go in there,” his stern voice said in my ear. When I tried to ignore him and push away, his hand clamped tighter. “We’re doing the best we can. You have to go back.”

Tears leaked out of my eyes. “But I can’t find my mother.”

The fireman held me out at arm’s length and steadied me. “Let us do our job. I need to go back in. I’ll see if I can find her. What’s her name?”

“Ruth Anne Bailey.” I blinked and stared into his eyes, trying to get my composure. “Her nurse is Sharice. She would know where Mother is. Sharice will know.”

He let go of me and I stepped back several paces.

Get a hold of yourself, Melissa. You’re in the way.

A half-dozen firefighters at the pump trucks focused two hoses at the back building. Another group of men shot one stream of water at the place where the hallway connected the two buildings, and another stream at the main part where Mother lived.

The fire wasn’t giving up. Small gusts of wind helped the blaze inch along the main building, making bits of progress in spite of the efforts to battle it.

Another sob caught in my throat. Tears stung my eyes. I leaned against a wide tree trunk, and put my head in my hands. I couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

A grip on my shoulder startled me.
It must be another firefighter or paramedic.
I wiped my face hastily and started to explain.

It was Rick. His camera and tripod lay on the ground, along with extra equipment. “I’ve sent for the live truck. One of the engineers is coming. No word?”

I could barely answer. “They…haven’t found her yet,” I managed to get out.

Rick touched my arm. “Melissa, if it helps, I’m sure I just saw Chris pull up. I think he’s a little frantic looking for you and your mother.”

Shouts rang out across the lawn. One of the ambulance’s lights began to flash. Its sirens howled so loudly it made me shudder. Then, two firefighters carrying a black woman on a stretcher rushed out of the building. The men’s yellow uniforms were covered in soot. Seconds later, paramedics grabbed the stretcher and pulled it into the back of the ambulance.

As the door shut, the wheels of the ambulance started moving—slowly, then faster. We watched as the vehicle pulled down the driveway and out of sight.

Rick helped me to my feet. “Listen,” he said, “according to what I’m being told, most of the residents are okay. Minor burns, some smoke inhalation. They’re trying to contain the fire to the back building.”

He took my arm. “Let’s find Chris. Maybe he knows whether they’ve found your mom.”

Chris had already made his way to the paramedic station. I tried to get his attention as he weaved in and out of wheelchairs, searching faces. The number of residents waiting to be examined had multiplied.

“I don’t see her nurse,” I said to Rick, panicking. “Why don’t I see Sharice anywhere?”

Rick began to count. “Ten, fourteen, twenty, twenty-five. How many people did you say lived here?”

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion rocked the ground. I held onto Chris for balance. People began to scream and cry. Flames shot into the air from the right side of the nursing home. A fireman, carrying a tiny woman in bright blue, burst out of the front door.

The fire sprang to life again. Flames swirled from the source of the explosion, and charred places on the roof re-ignited bigger and brighter. In minutes, the nursing home’s roof was lit like a bon-fire. The heat from the blaze intensified.

Rick darted away to get his camera and tripod. Shouts rang out across the lawn and arcs of water filled the air again. For a split second, none of it mattered. The fireman had Mother hugged to his chest. I ran toward them, Chris at my heels. I was afraid she was dead.

But the fireman murmured to Mother and set her down like he was handling fine china. He stepped away, and the paramedics crowded around her. Through the noise and confusion, I managed to get a glimpse of her.

Mother, tinged with streaks of dirt, sat still, her hands folded primly in her lap, gripping her notebook. Over one of the paramedic’s shoulders, she looked straight at me. And smiled.

I gasped.
How in the world?

The firefighter adjusted his hat and whistled. “Quite the stubborn one, this little lady.”

I turned to get a better look at his face.

“This is your mother?” he asked.

I nodded.

“She told me she was waiting for her daughter to come get her. Somehow, she had managed to get inside the nursing director’s office, there in the front, shut the door behind her, and wedged her wheelchair in between the desk and the wall.”

I closed my eyes briefly, not wanting to believe it.

“So, when we came through to do a final check of rooms, that one—in the very front corner—had been missed. It was furthest away from the original fire, so she was lucky. When I opened the door, there she sat with that notebook and a dozen picture frames in her lap.”

Mother continued to grip the notebook, eyes focused off in the distance.

The fireman adjusted his hat. “When I told her she needed to come with me, she said she’d just wait right there, that she was fine until you came.” He snapped a strap under his jaw. “She didn’t like it much, but I shoved the photos in my pockets, scooped her up, and carried her out.”

He thrust a hand into his pocket, retrieved two small picture frames, and held them out for me to take. One of Kelly. The other of Chris and me.

I took them gingerly. “Thank you,” I said, my hands trembling.

“Thank you so much.” Chris shook his hand. The paramedic moved aside to let us talk to Mother, still holding her notebook.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked. “I finally started calling for Sharice. She never came. I thought you’d both left me.”

“Mother,” I said, then stopped. There was more she wanted to say.

Her voice shook. “Now that you had this important job on TV, I knew you’d just forget about me. I’d be alone. And you wouldn’t come back.”

She was worried I didn’t care about her. All of this time.

“Never, Mother.” I threw myself in her lap, not caring if she pushed back. “I love you.”

After a moment, ever so lightly, I felt her stroke my hair.

Rick made it back to the studio in record time to announce the live cut-in. I watched him on a small television set a few yards away next to my cameraman and adjusted the sound on the live truck’s extra earpiece.

Sharice hadn’t made it. She’d died in the fire, rescuing residents, dragging people to safety.

I was in shock. It couldn’t be real. She was the only fatality, so far. The firefighters estimated that she saved at least six residents before succumbing to smoke inhalation.

Oh, Sharice.

“…Our own Melissa Moore is on the scene. Melissa, what can you tell us about this afternoon’s fire at Magnolia Woods nursing home?”

I paused a second to gather my final thoughts, then answered. “Rick, what you see behind me is the clean-up effort following a massive fire at Magnolia Woods.” I stepped to the side and allowed the cameraman to get a wide shot of the damaged building, many parts of it charred and still smoldering.

“Employees of the nursing home told me the blaze started in the kitchen, after they were unable to contain a grease fire on one of the stoves. When they realized they couldn’t control it, they called 9-1-1 and started the evacuation process.”

The television screen flashed back to Rick. I stepped back into the camera shot as he spoke.

“What about the explosion that happened later, after the fire started? Any foul play suspected?” Rick prompted.

“No foul play suspected. There is speculation that the explosion may have stemmed from a closet where several old, very large oxygen tanks were being stored until the nursing home could dispose of them. We’ll have final word on that in a few days when the report is filed. Rick?”

Rick filled the television screen again. “Melissa, how many people live and work at the nursing home?” Rick asked.

From the studio, Joe rolled file footage of the nursing home.

“Forty-eight residents lived here, though they won’t be able to come back to this facility for quite some time due to smoke and water damage.” I paused to take a breath. “As for the employees, nineteen were working this morning when the fire started.

“The company that owns Magnolia Woods has already promised to find places for the employees in the other nursing homes they own in the Macon and surrounding areas. That’s huge peace of mind for those folks who need to keep a paycheck coming in,” I added.

“Melissa, were many people injured?” Rick continued. “And if so, do we know their medical status and if all of the families have been contacted?”

The camera was back on me. “Unfortunately, Rick, six residents of the nursing home and four employees had to be transported to the hospital and are now undergoing treatment for smoke inhalation and minor burns. Those residents happened to be returning from the dining area in the back of the building near the kitchen at the time the fire began.

“We do have confirmation that one employee lost her life in the fire. A single mother, a nurse, and a fine person.” My voice cracked. “We’ll have an update on her story on WSGA News at Six.”

The television screen went back to Rick. “Our thoughts and prayers are with her family. Melissa, we understand that your own mother is one of the residents of the nursing home. How’s she doing?”

The question caught me off guard.
We’re lucky she’s alive,
was all that was running through my mind. But I had to pull myself together.

“It’s been an emotional afternoon, Rick. But thanks to the Macon firefighters, my mother was rescued.” My throat caught and one tear escaped. “She’s going to be all right.” I swallowed and tried to get composed. “We…we were very lucky.”

“Thanks, Melissa. Melissa Moore reporting live from Magnolia Woods Nursing Home, the scene of a large fire this afternoon. Several elderly residents and employees of the facility were sent to the hospital for treatment of injuries. We’ll have more tonight on WSGA News at Six. See you then.”

The television screen flashed to commercial. Several yards away, my cameraman signaled we were finished. He’d stay here for the six and ten live shots. As I picked up my purse and the bottle of water I had grabbed from the live truck, my cell phone buzzed.

“Chris?” I answered. “How’s Mother doing? Does she know about Sharice?” Her name caught in my throat. The photo of her little son, Darius, was fixed in my mind.

“I don’t think so. She’s sleeping right now. She’s exhausted. I’ll bet you are, too.”

“You bet right.” I sighed. “We’re on our way back to the station.”

“Melissa?”

“Still here,” I answered.

“What I wanted to say,” Chris cleared his throat, “is that I’m really proud of you.”