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Authors: Jan Christensen

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BOOK: Blackout
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Feeling suddenly exhausted, she got her purse out of a locked desk drawer. Her legs and feet ached dully and her eyes burned.

Stopping at the rotunda, she checked with Rita about the arrangements for Mrs. Lacy and to remind her of the staff meeting tomorrow. Assured everything had been taken care of, she went to Betty Senior’s room.

Her mother appeared to be dozing.

“Ma,” Betty said into the old woman’s ear. She gently shook a frail shoulder.

Eyes opened and slowly focused. Betty Senior smiled.

“There you are. Must have had a busy day. I haven’t seen you since before breakfast.”

“I know, Ma. I’m sorry. It’s been a hectic day. Pretty bad.” Betty sat in the vinyl-clad wing-back chair positioned so the resident could see the visitor.

“Tell me,” Betty Senior said.

“Mrs. Lacy died.”

“That’s really too bad.” Mother looked at daughter a moment, then her gaze shifted to the wall. “She was a nice lady. Used to come in here and visit me when she was still ambulatory. Always pleasant. What a shame.”

“Yes. And a new aide found her.”

“That girl, Alice?”

“You met her?”

“Yes, there’s something different about her. Lost lambish.”

“Yeah,” Betty said, sinking farther into the cushiness of the chair, wishing she could take her nurse’s shoes off. There were certain things a director of nurses didn’t do, though. “Well, she came unglued. Ma, she has amnesia, been covering it up since she landed here in town a couple of months ago. Something about Mrs. Lacy’s death disturbed her terribly.” Betty was glad she had her mother to confide in. She couldn’t tell another soul, but Ma wouldn’t blab.

“Where’s she been living then? How’s she managing?”

“Donald and Hannah are taking care of her.”

“Good old Hannah,” Betty Senior said. “Betty, could I have some water, please?”

“Sure.” Reluctantly, Betty left the chair and gave her mother a drink.

“So how did the inspection go?” Betty Senior asked when she’d had enough to drink.

Betty sat back down. “Not as well as I’d hoped. Only got an eighty-eight.” She explained about the decubiti.

“That’s odd,” Betty Senior said. “I don’t have any. Or do I? I wouldn’t feel them.”

“No, Ma. You’re fine.”

“So, is that all?” Betty Senior asked. “Sounds like a typical day to me.”

Betty laughed. “Right, Ma. Almost. Hey, are you doing okay?”

“The same. Except I seem to be a little thirstier than usual.”

“Really? Your blood sugar is okay. If your sugar’s high, it will make you thirsty, but since it’s all right, they’re probably adding more salt in the kitchen.”

“Well, nothing about the kitchen would surprise me.”

“What’s that mean? Don’t you like the food?”

“I hate to admit it, but it’s pretty good. Most of the time. That Margaret knows how to spice things up. But she bothers me. Shifty-eyed and can’t talk straight. Mumbles, mutters, and stutters. Comes by faithfully, once a month, to ask how everything is.”

“She hired on as a cook, Ma. She’s nervous about her responsibilities. Only been food service director for about three or four months now.”

“I know that,” Betty Senior said waspishly. “I’m not senile yet. If Katherine had enough faith in her to promote her to manager, she shouldn’t be so mealymouthed. I need another drink.” Betty stood up slowly. “Hurry up, I’m really thirsty.”

“And I’m really tired, Ma,” Betty told her as she held the glass. The last thing she wanted to do was argue with her mother. She set the glass back down on the overbed tray. “I’d better get home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Betty left her mother’s room, hoping no one would stop her on her way out. No one did. She sank gratefully into the driver’s seat of her white Caddy and drove mechanically, thinking about the inspection and Mrs. Lacy and Alice.

At home, she checked on her cockatoo, Charlie, making sure he had food and water and talking to him. Later she’d water the plants. She stood in her favorite room for a moment, glancing around. A large sunny bedroom had been made into a tropical garden. She’d tiled the floor, put a fountain in one corner, Charlie in another, and plants everywhere—hanging, on shelves, on the floor—except where a few pieces of wicker furniture took up space. The window was undraped and uncurtained so she could see her flower garden and bird feeders.

She went to her bedroom and quickly changed into sweats. Barefoot, she padded to her small kitchen and made some soup and a tuna sandwich. She turned the radio on low and ate, reading a crafts magazine. She wanted to finish the bed jacket she was sewing for her mother, but she felt too drained and uninterested tonight.

After washing her few dishes, she plopped in front of the television. Clicking through channels, she avoided a movie-of-the-week about a hospital and another with a lot of violence. Finally settling on a sitcom, she lost interest when the jokes fell flat and got up restlessly to get a soda, then watered the plants.

The phone rang, making Betty jump. Only a wrong number. After she took a shower, she poured herself a tiny glass of Amaretto, telling herself a drink before bed was the medicine the doctor ordered. She watched the late news, sipping her drink, then went to bed.

The next morning Betty realized she’d distracted and medicated herself enough so she’d gotten a fairly decent night’s sleep. Except for the dream about the woman with blue hair lying on her back with her arms folded.

Betty hated weird dreams and put it out of her mind as she got ready for work.

CHAPTER 7

After forty-five minutes in Betty’s office, Alice stood up restlessly, looked out the window, sat down again. In a couple of minutes, she was back at the window watching the inspection team leave the building.

Her tears had dried, and now she didn’t understand why she had been so upset. An old lady she didn’t even know had died. It was sad, but not sad enough to make her carry on like that.

She wished she hadn’t told Betty about the amnesia. She’d want to do something about it, Alice was sure. Alice wanted to leave, but Betty had said to stay and wait for her.

But I don’t want to talk to her any more, Alice thought. The clock on Betty’s desk said three fifteen. Alice could go—she’d been at work eight hours. Resolutely, she got up, went to the employee’s lockers to get her purse, and left the building. No one seemed to notice her. She felt invisible.

Hannah would be worried if she was even a little late. Alice hurried back to the now-familiar clapboard house. But she didn’t want to talk to Hannah, either, so she only said, “Hi, I’m home,” and went to her room.

The smell of the nursing home permeated her hair and clothing. She washed her hair and changed into jeans and T-shirt. Hannah and Donald had bought her new clothes, and she planned to pay back every cent. She wished she didn’t have to work at Merry Hills to do it. She couldn’t believe two old people had died in the last two days alone. She shuddered. It almost seemed like she had brought bad luck to Merry Hills.

Hannah called her to dinner. She was happy to see Donald had come. In jeans and a dark green polo shirt, his hair slicked back with gel, he looked good. His blue eyes gazed at her searchingly. He’d probably heard about her reaction to Mrs. Lacy’s death.

Embarrassed, she helped Hannah put the chicken, mashed potatoes, rolls, and green beans on the table. After they sat down, Donald said grace, then passed the chicken.

“How did your second day of work go?” Hannah asked while serving herself some vegetables.

“Okay,” Alice mumbled.

“Well, Betty called to see if you made it home all right.”

“Why?” Donald asked. “What happened?”

So he didn’t know. Better if she told him herself, in her own way. “I got a little upset. Did you know Mrs. Lacy?” Donald nodded. “Well, she passed away today, and…and I found her.” Alice attacked her chicken with knife and fork.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alice saw Donald and Hannah exchange glances. Sometimes their concern during the past two months smothered her. “I’m all right. It was just a shock.”

“Of course.” Donald patted her hand. She jerked it away to take a sip of milk.

They exchanged another look. Alice ignored them.

“Well,” Donald said. “I heard nursing only got an eighty-eight on the inspection. I imagine Betty’s upset. She’s worked hard since she’s been here. With Katherine, she helped bring the whole place up to snuff. Something about too many bedsores. The residents have to be turned every, what is it, Alice? Two hours?”

“That’s right.” Alice nodded. “Sometimes even more often if it’s convenient. You know, if we’re in the room anyway, doing something else.”

Hannah said, “So what score did you get, Donald?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Donald replied, smiling. “A ninety-seven.”

“Ninety-seven! You’re better than I thought,” Hannah said and laughed, punching him lightly on the arm.

“Yeah, well.” He seemed embarrassed.

Alice grinned at him. “Congratulations. You need to celebrate.”

“I thought a walk in the park after dinner would be fun. We could feed the ducks.”

“A typical Donald idea of fun,” Hannah said as she got up to clear the table. “You two go after we have dessert. I need to bake for tomorrow’s sale at the school.”

Alice got up to help clear.

Later, while they ate peach cobbler, Hannah asked Donald, “What did the other departments get, or can’t you tell me?”

“I’m sure you’ll blab all over town, Hannah.” Donald grinned at her. “Let’s see. Dietary got an eighty-two. Activities got a seventy-four. Social Services a ninety-one. Housekeeping got an eighty-eight and Laundry a ninety. I forgot what Medical Records got, and Admissions. I think Katherine pulled a ninety-seven, too, in Administration. It will burn Betty that Brenda in Social Services got a higher score than she did. Except for Nursing, which scored lower than expected, everyone else pretty much got what we all thought they would.”

“How important is all this?” Hannah asked.

“Very. Bonuses for all department heads mostly hinge on these scores. That and how we do on the state survey. The overall center score was only eighty-nine percent. I’m sure Katherine wanted to break ninety. So she’s going to push Betty, and Yolanda in Activities. Yolanda’s job may be in jeopardy. Usually if anyone gets below a seventy, they’re fired. So, Yolanda’s near the cutoff.”

“Wow!” Hannah said. “You’d better stay on the inspector’s good side.”

“All part of the game,” Donald said. “You ready to walk off this delicious dinner, Alice?”

“I need to help Hannah with the dishes first.”

“You run along,” Hannah told them. “Since I got the dishwasher, it’s easy.”

“What goes around, comes around,” Donald said, then turned to Alice and explained. “She helped a guy down on his luck last year. Well, he made good and gave her the dishwasher.”

Alice smiled at Hannah. “What do you want if I make good?”

“Oh, Alice,” Hannah said. “I want nothing more than you to be happy.”

Alice hugged her. Then Hannah went to get bread for the ducks, and Donald and Alice cleared the rest of the table.

“It’s a nice evening for a walk,” Donald said as they went outside. “But it almost always is here, except in winter.”

“Yes,” Alice said. She wished she’d brought a sweater—the air felt cool on her bare arms.

“Well, how do you like Merry Hills?”

“It’s fine. Interesting.” She swallowed hard.

“Such enthusiasm.”

“Well, it’s a little overwhelming. I’ll just have to get used to it.”

“I guess so,” he said. They arrived at the park and walked around the pond before sitting on a bench at the edge. When Alice rattled the plastic bag of bread crumbs, eight or nine ducks waddled up to them, quacking loudly. Soon all the scraps were gone. Alice and Donald leaned back on the park bench and stared at the water.

“Will you come to services on Sunday?” Donald asked.

“I…I don’t know.” Alice stood up. “I’m sorry, Donald. I want to come, but something holds me back.” She rubbed her arms. “I’m a little chilly. Could we go back to Hannah’s?”

“Of course.” He got up, too, and they stared walking. “I’m not trying to be pushy. I believe it will help you. That’s why I want you to attend.”

“I know,” Alice said. “I’ll try. Honestly.”

“That’s all I ask. Hey, you’re shivering. Let’s walk a little faster.” He put his arm around her, and they speeded up.

Alice leaned into him. It felt good to be held.

* * * * *

Alice went to work the next morning, even though Hannah told her Betty had said she could stay home a day. She needed the money to repay Hannah and Donald. When she saw Nancy and Joyce in the employee locker area, they told her about the staff meeting at nine.

“Rita assigned you with me again,” Joyce said.

They walked to the 300 hall together and started getting residents up. Joyce was kind enough to take care of Mrs. Lacy’s roommate by herself, letting Alice help a man across the hall who didn’t need two people to get him into his wheelchair.

At nine the nursing staff gathered in front of the rotunda. Betty assigned one aide for each hall to watch for call lights.

After the murmuring of voices died down, she said, “By now you all know about how the home office inspection went. Well, we need to do better. The main problem is decubiti, and we have to get a handle on this. If anyone has any suggestions or sees anything that might be a factor, please let me know. Make sure every resident is turned every two hours. Urge them to eat because nutrition is important, too, as you know. Be sure there is fresh water at bedside. We are going to start refreshing all pitchers in the middle of each shift. Offer water whenever you are with a resident.”

She turned to make eye contact with everyone. “Now, the good news is the residents are highly satisfied with their care. Nursing care is excellent. Call lights are answered promptly, medications are given out properly, and residents are clean and well groomed. We need to continue with all the good things we’re doing and get a handle on the decub problem.”

She finished with a big grin. “That’s pretty much it. There’s cake, coffee, and sodas in the break room as a small thank-you for the part each and every one of you played in the results of this year’s inspection. Everyone gets four hours off with pay, too, at any time you want. Be sure to ask Rita a week ahead so she can schedule accordingly. But don’t all decide on this Friday, please.”

BOOK: Blackout
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