“Not like this one, ‘Nice legs, what time do they open?’”
“A bit to the point, huh?”
“And here’s one that was tailor made for me, ‘Do you have any Irish in you? No? Want some?’”
“Sounds like you had a very good time at the party.”
“I would have if you’d been there.”
“Really? Which line would you have used on me?” Which line did he use last night? Did he try to pick up one of those women?
“Hmm, that’s a tough one. How about, ‘That shirt is very becoming on you. If I were on you, I’d be coming, too.’”
I laughed and he joined me. “So, when are you coming? And don’t tell me you aren’t even breathing hard yet. When are you coming to the island to see me, and forgive me, but I can’t help but add, because the last time I saw you was in my dreams.”
I had thought of little else, other than Amy’s disappearance of course, but he didn’t need to know that. “I am flattered that you dream of me. And pray tell just what am I doing in these dreams?”
“We’re playing army—I’m lying down and you’re blowing the hell out of me.”
“Can’t get off this train, can you?” I said with a smile I was sure he could hear.
“You know, once you get started with this it’s like eating potato chips. It was like that last night too—four women, sophisticated players if you know what I mean,
Tessa of Crooked Gulley
well . . . you can imagine, we were the life of the party after we got going. Everybody had to add their favorites.” “Did they use any lines on you?” Okay, I just couldn’t help myself.
“None particularly noteworthy. Oh, wait a moment, there was this one: ‘Baby, I’m an American Express lover, don’t go home without me.’And by the way, no I didn’t.”
“What do you mean? You didn’t what?”
“I can hear what you’re askin’, even if it’s only in your head. You want to know if I took one of those beauties home with me.”
There was silence. I could hardly deny it, but how could he have known that’s what I was thinking?
“I didn’t. I wouldn’t. And I’d better not find out that you are either. We’re workin’ on somethin’ grand here, you and me.”
“Are we?” I said coyly, pleased as could be.
“Fucking A. Now when do you plan on getting your ass down here so I can fuck something else?”
“As pick up lines go, that one sucks.”
“I’ll work on it, just get here.”
“I was thinking the week after Thanksgiving.”
“I was thinking the week before.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good, because this thing isn’t going to suck itself, you know.”
“Is that another one of your pick up lines?”
“Actually it is, not one of my better ones though, that one falls under the heading of not likely to work, along with, ‘If I were you, I‘d have sex with me.’”
“I am me, and I would love to have sex with you.”
“Then get on a damned plane, will ya?”
“Aye, aye Captain.”
“That’s Commander, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes sir!”
“Goodnight sweetheart.”
“Goodnight Roman, and thank you for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome. And remember my name, ‘cause you’ll be screaming it all night soon.”
“You’re never going to stop with this are you?”
“Got a million of ‘em.”
“I’ll just bet you do.”
“Just get here so I don’t have to use any of them on someone else, will ya?”
Chapter Twenty-two
Another one of my stupid stunts Iwas on my way to Southport, dressed in a pair of Tom’s old scrubs. I had on a pair of his huge bifocals, even wrapped his old stethoscope around my neck and pinned his badge on so that it fell backwards and couldn’t be read. I was going to find Amy, and I was going to find out what was wrong with her even if I had to be deceptive.
I had only been to the Southport Nursing home once and that had been before all the renovations at the nearby hospital. I actually had visited a church member who was there, so I knew a little about the complex but I had no idea how to go about finding Amy.
The way I saw it, I had two choices: park in the visitor’s parking area, walk up to the front door to a nurses station and inquire after Amy; or park where the employees parked, walk up as if I belonged and run the gauntlet of smokers sure to be loitering there, and then snoop around, possibly finding an orderly or nurses aide to direct me. I opted for the latter as once I inquired and was told no visitors; it would be time to leave and I would have accomplished nothing with this charade and the long drive.
I parked at the edge of the lot then tucked my curls into one of Tom’s old scrub hats. It had cats and dogs climbing all over each other and had been very popular with his patients. I took only the car door key from my key ring and threw the others in the trunk along with my purse. If I was going to pull this off, I had to look like I worked there and that meant no purse on my shoulder or car keys jiggling in my pocket.
Only two women were puffing away when I walked down the path to the door, I simply nodded and continued on, hoping there wasn’t a trick to the door or any kind of security. Nope, I was in. After a few turns I came upon one bustling corridor after another. Finding Amy was not going to be easy. I kept my head down and read the nameplates on each door as I walked by, looking into the rooms that had empty brass name holders. Seemed to be mostly men here, I thought as I followed a man in a walker mumbling to himself. Then I came upon a woman zigzagging up the hall screeching that she needed her diaper changed. And she did too, brown ooze was running down her legs under her nightgown and puddling on the back of her slipper. I shivered. God help the person who had to clean that mess up. I didn’t know what these aides were being paid, but it was not enough in my mind. An aide came from around the corner, greeted the woman warmly as she took her arm to lead her back to her room. Angels of mercy had a whole new meaning for me in that moment.
I spotted a petite woman with a mop of coal black hair wrangling with a huge mop. She looked young and energetic and approachable. I reasoned that if she maintained these hallways on a regular basis that maybe she would know some of the patient’s names. I decided to jump in and find out, so I tapped her on the shoulder.
She spun around and looked at me with bright, shining dark eyes. Her nametag read Carmelita Vegas/Housekeeping. She was a beautiful Hispanic woman, in her early teens if I didn’t miss my guess, and her eyes registering my doctor’s togs brought her upright with instant respect. She gave me a big smile and in perfect English said, “Yes doctor?”
“Do you know where Amy Diaz’s room is?” There was an immediate flare of recognition, so pronounced and untutored that had she wanted to say no, it would clearly have been a lie. She knew Amy, and she didn’t care for her for some reason. But then often Hispanics did not like their men marrying white women, so maybe this was just a case of jealousy or bias. I imagined that to a Hispanic woman, Carlos would easily fit her version of McDreamy.
While she dealt with her emotions, I added, “I’m a physical therapist, I have orders to work with her.”
“Oh, she’s down the hall, I’ll show you where her room is.” She propped her mop in a corner, pushed the bucket aside and walked down the hall. You could not help but notice the enticing sway of nubile young hips, saucily making the pronounced side-to-side sashay. This was exactly the type of woman Carlos should have married I thought. But then of course she was just cleaning floors, which would never have been enough money for Carlos.
She stopped at a doorway and with a flourish of her hand said, “Here is Mrs. Diaz’s room.” Then she turned and sauntered back down the hall to her bucket and mop.
How had she known Amy was a Mrs.? The nameplate on the door said only Amy Diaz. Maybe by her lily-white s
kin—Amy could never become a Diaz except through marriage. Knowing how clannish Hispanics in our area were, I wondered for a split second if she might even know Carlos. But then I discounted that notion, the young lady couldn’t have been any more than eleven or twelve when Carlos had married Amy and left the working world of the Brunswick County immigrants.
I looked into the room and saw two beds, the one by the door was empty but disheveled, the one by the window had feet wrapped under a blanket. That’s about all I could see as the curtain between the beds was partially drawn. “Amy?” I called softly.
There was a soft shuffle as those feet pulled up and out of view. I walked into the room. At the curtain, I leaned to the side and peaked around it. There was Amy, staring at my face with tears filling her eyes. There was no sign that she knew who I was. I stepped behind the curtain, pulling it all the way closed behind me.
“Amy, it’s me, Tessa.”
I watched as she tried to sit up and move away. It broke my heart that she didn’t recognize me. Then I realized I had made it hard for anyone to recognize me, I whipped off my cap, fluffed my curls and took off Tom’s oversized bifocals.
Her eyes went wide and she sobbed, then her arms went out to me. I stepped over to give her a hug and then I rocked her until she stopped crying.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. And that’s when I heard her tiny scared voice for the first time. She sounded like a lost child who had no hope of ever seeing her parents.
“I don’t know,” she wailed, “I can’t remember. I forget. I forget everything.”
“You know me, right?”
“Tessa. Tessa, right? Why do I know you?”
“We’re neighbors.”
“Where?”
“Sea Trail at Sunset Beach, remember?”
“No.” I watched as her face scrunched and her brows came together as she tried to think, “Do I live in a house?”
“Yes, a very lovely house with a beautiful stone fireplace and a huge kitchen. You and I made a big dinner just two weeks ago, lasagna, remember?”
“Lasagna?”
“Yes, for you and Carlos and your guests, we worked all afternoon on it.”
“Carlos made me come here. He left me here.” “So you remember Carlos?”
“He won’t let me go home. He says I must stay here until I get better.”
“Have you seen him then?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t remember.”
“What does your doctor say?”
“I don’t know, I don’t even know who my doctor is.”
“Amy, you need a medical advocate. Unfortunately, in your state of mind, I don’t think you can assign one though. I want to help you, tell me what I can do.”
“I don’t like it here.”
“No, I don’t imagine that you do.”
I heard someone come into the room so I quickly put my cap back on and grabbed Amy’s leg and starting bending it. She of course said, “Ow!” and I answered, “Mrs. Diaz, it only hurts because you’re not using it, push against my hand and let’s get that muscle loose again, shall we?”
I smiled to the nurse who peaked in and went back to massaging Amy’s calf muscle. She smiled back and left us alone.
“Whew, that was close,” I said as I leaned in to Amy’s face, then I whispered, “I’m not supposed to be here. Carlos requested no visitors. So if anybody asks, I’m your physical therapist. Say it.”
“You’re my physical ther-pist.”
“Right, remember that if nothing else, or I won’t be able to help you get out of here. But first thing, we have to find out why you’re here. I want you to find out who your doctor is. Ask the nurses after I leave and see if you can get a name so I can call somebody and find out what’s wrong with you, okay? Can you do that for me?”
She smiled and nodded. But after talking with her for a while longer, I knew she wouldn’t remember to ask anyone about her doctor.
For an hour I told her about her life and tried to get her to remember the people and the places she knew. I avoided talking about Carlos, for somehow I knew this was all his doing. He was in Florida with his hotties while his wife was here in a nursing home! Something was not right here and I was beginning to smell what was afoot.
I wished I had the gumption to go up to the nurse’s desk and demand to see her chart. But I didn’t have that kind of chutzpah, at least not yet.
When her roommate, Janie, came in just as I was getting ready to leave I did manage to lead her along so I could ask a few questions. She was a diabetic and had lost both legs, but there was nothing wrong with her mind. I found out the low down on Amy. According to the talk on the floor, Amy had early onset Alzheimer’s and her husband had committed her and not been seen since. Janie was as talkative as could be and after a few minutes I felt safe asking her to keep an eye on Amy and to see if she could get her doctor’s name for me. She rattled it right off, along with all the drugs she was taking. I grabbed a notepad from Janie’s nightstand and wrote everything down. I thanked her profusely, swore her to secrecy, and promised to sneak in a Hershey bar for her. I told them both that I’d be back in two days. I had some work to do when I got home, and a doctor to visit.
Chapter Twenty-three
Telling my lover about my friend The next night my phone rang while I was in bed. I groggily picked it up and said, “Hello?”
“Fat Penguin . . . Sorry I just wanted to say something that would break the ice.”
“We’re not starting that again, are we?”
“No, apparently not. You sound tired. It’s only ten o’clock, what’s wrong?”
“Well, actually I’ve been in bed for an hour already.”
“Alone, I’m hopin’.”
“Yes, alone.”
“Good then, so what’s making you so tired?”
I began to explain the long saga of Amy and Carlos and my new legless friend. When I was finished with the sad story, ending with Amy’s fervent desire to get out of there, he asked if I knew who her attorney was. I thought for a minute, trying to remember.
“There aren’t all that many in the area, but no, I can’t remember her talking about having any legal transactions since I’ve known her.”
“Can you get back inside the house?”
“Yeah, I think so. Unless he’s had the locks changed.”
“He doesn’t sound that smart and not all that knowledgeable about your ways. In all likelihood, if it’s really only her money he’s after, he may have taken bank papers and credit cards but overlooked a power of attorney, a deed of trust, a will, some kind of legal document. If you can find her attorney, and he isn’t able to locate Carlos, as her representative he’s bound to make some inquiries on her behalf. He has the ability as her representative to find out what’s going on with her. If the state or the county says she’s not capable of making decisions on her own, they have to prove that to him. But she could really be sick you know.”
“Not that quickly, no one goes from cheerful and chatty to despondent and insensible that quickly. I mean she was just fine a month ago. In fact, she came over the morning I left to go on the cruise with a plate of cinnamon buns.”
“Well, find her attorney and tell him everything you’ve told me. I can’t imagine anyone leaving her to fend for herself while her husband is M.I.A.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll go over to the house tomorrow.”
“Now . . . to what I called you about.”
“What’s that?”
“I bought your ticket. You’re flyin’ first class on United on November 19th. I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
“Presuming a lot aren’t you?”
“Unless you want me prowlin’ the bars, you’d best get your ass over here. My fist is startin’ to get chapped for want of you.”
“You say the sweetest things,” I said sarcastically.
“All right, I’ll admit to bein’a bit earthy about it, but I need you in my bed Tess. If I�
�d have known missin’ you was going to be this fierce, I would have found a way to keep you here, lashed you to a post or somethin’.”
“Should I be worried about getting back home?”
“Yeah, I would if I were you. The best case is you’re not going ta be able ta walk off the plane.”
“And Amy’s the one they think is off her rocker.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief Iknew that the doctor would not take my call or return a message if it concerned another patient. The screeners would not let me get that far without telling them what I wanted, of this I was certain. So I made an appointment to see him myself. He was in the new medical center close to Route 211 and apparently not all that busy as I got an appointment for the next day. I figured I could swing by there on my way to Southport to visit Amy.
The attorney was another matter. He was in court and not expected back that day. I left a message but did not say what I wanted. When he called back later that afternoon I told him that I was a neighbor of Amy’s and that I had visited her at the nursing home the day before. I gave him a quick rundown on Carlos, the hot tub and the Boca girls, and added that he had left town without telling anyone. I told him that I suspected he had let the bills pile up unpaid as the electricity was now off. I didn’t tell him that the reason I knew this, was that in order to find his name, I’d had to go back home for a flashlight after breaking in again.
I had opted to walk home using the street and had walked right into a For Sale sign that hadn’t been there the day before. I stomped back to the front porch and saw that there was a lock box on the front door. I had fumed and cussed all the way home. Anyone watching would have thought I was a power walker on speed.
The attorney said that according to his records he hadn’t had any business dealings with Ms. Diaz in four years, not since she had remortgaged the house and added Carlos’ name to the deed of trust. Ouch, that wasn’t good.
At first he refused to tell me whether Amy had a living will, a health care power of attorney, or an advance directive for mental health treatment. But as I became more and more adamant about him being her representative and going to Southport to see what her wishes were, he admitted she had those documents and laid it on the line—Carlos was calling the shots. “Look, it’s not illegal to check your wife into a nursing home if a doctor deems it necessary. And the fact that he’s just left her there and doesn’t visit, well, that isn’t illegal either.”
The Widows of Sea Trail-Tessa of Crooked Gulley Page 15