Almost a Family

by Roxanne Rustand

  The weight of all that doubt filled her chest and sent pounding waves of a new headache throbbing through her temples.

  She pulled on her jacket, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed for the door. After a good night’s sleep, maybe things would look better. Maybe her imagination was simply working overtime, looking for problems when there were none.

  She was halfway out the front entrance of the hospital when a low, urgent voice came across the loudspeakers in the hall. “Code blue! Code blue! Room 34B, stat.”

  She pivoted and hurried back inside, to the sound of staff racing down the halls from every direction. The rattle of a crash cart. Tense voices. She stood aside until the stampede had passed, then went to the nurses’ station in the hospital wing.

  A hubbub of tense voices rose from a room two doors down. Someone shouted, “Stand clear!” There was a moment of silence, then another shouted order and renewed furor.

  A young nurse’s aide rushed out of the room and sped to the phone at the desk. Rapidly dialing a number, she spoke in low tones, then hurried back to the room and disappeared inside.

  What seemed a lifetime later, Erin looked up to see Connor running down the hall in jeans and a sweater, his hair windblown and his face flushed from the chilly night air.

  Five minutes stretched to ten, then fifteen.

  And then the staff began trickling out of the room, their faces somber and their steps heavy. One of the nurses pushed the crash cart into the pharmacy storeroom next to the nurses’ station, where she began re-stocking its supplies.

  Low, respectful voices drifted from the patient’s room. A good man…a sad loss.

  Erin sagged against the raised counter as the enormous finality of the moment hit her. Another one gone. Someone’s husband, father, son…friend.

  And when a nurse stepped out of the room with a chart in her hand, dizziness threatened to overcome Erin. In place of the bright orange DNR sticker was an unmistakable green one. Hadley.

  The implication made her stomach pitch as she walked slowly down the hall. Something was happening here, and she could no longer hope that it was just her imagination.

  At the double doors leading out into the lobby, she reached for the handle just as one swung open.

  “Oh…Mrs. Banks.” Erin summoned up the semblance of a smile. She held the door as the housekeeper started to push her cleaning supplies cart through, but the woman stopped halfway and peered down the hall.

  “Guess I’d better wait until things quiet down.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “Another code.” Mrs. Banks shook her head. “Makes you wonder.” Mumbling to herself, she backed up and started off toward the long-term care unit, the wheels of her cart squeaking on the polished terrazzo.

  Yes, it makes me wonder, too. And if a cleaning woman questioned it, why hadn’t anyone else?

  Marcia, one of the dark-haired young nurses from the hospital wing, came up the hall, her jacket and purse slung over one arm. “Too bad, isn’t it? Del was my Sunday school teacher in third grade. A really nice old guy.”

  Erin held the door open for her, as well, then fell in step with her. “What happened?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Possibly his heart. The lab just drew a postmortem blood sample to check his cardiac enzymes.”

  “Did anyone mention how Del was before this happened?”

  “He was doing pretty well, I guess. The nurse had taken his vitals an hour ago—just before Reynolds went to talk to him, and his cardiac enzymes were normal earlier this afternoon. Reynolds said it can happen that way—everything looks okay, then suddenly there’s an acute change. He wants an autopsy, but hasn’t been able to reach the family yet.”

  “Was anyone with Del when he passed away?”

  “When the nurse went in a few minutes ago, the poor guy was already gone.”

  Nausea rose in Erin’s throat. “Reynolds…was the last one who saw him?”

  “Yeah.” Marcia frowned. “Why?”

  “I…” Erin faltered, then recovered. “I guess that’s a good thing, right? If there’d been any sign of trouble, a doctor would have caught it. So there was probably nothing anyone could do.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “YOU WANTED TO SEE ME?” Grace strolled into Erin’s office at noon the next day, dropped into a chair and fanned herself with a sheaf of memos. “This has been one chaotic morning—what with the local newspaper reporters stopping by and that pileup out on Highway 72.”

  Erin paced behind her desk, then went to shut the door. “I didn’t realize Del was such a figure in local politics.”

  “He ran for the state senate twice, though that was in his younger days. I remember seeing him kissing babies and making speeches when I was a teenager.”

  “His grandson called the hospital a few minutes ago with a lot of questions.”

  “I saw him in the hospital wing this morning, picking up Del’s personal effects. He talked to the nurses for a while and complimented the staff on Del’s care, then he left.”

  Erin crossed the room and sat down at her desk. “Well, he must have had some second thoughts, because he’s requested an autopsy. Apparently he and Del had been up north just a week or so ago, and they fished from dawn to dusk each day. Del walked two miles after that, every evening.”

  “He was seventy-five, and a person of forty can have a heart attack, but it’s still good to know.” Grace gave a weary sigh. “Gives the family a sense of closure.”

  Or it could reveal something that shouldn’t have happened. Erin rolled a pen between her fingertips as she studied the notepad in front of her.

  Sharing her concerns with the wrong person could mean an increased risk that word would spread, yet there was simply too much to handle right now, and Grace, who emanated rock-solid values and tough work ethics, was the only person she knew well enough to trust.

  She just had to hope that lifelong associations, friendships, and the woman’s ingrained professional courtesy wouldn’t cloud Grace’s judgment.

  “Once before, I mentioned my concern about the elderly patients who have died here over the past few months,” Erin said, watching the older woman’s expression carefully. “I could be entirely wrong. Then again, as someone new to this facility, it’s possible that I might have the advantage of a fresh view.” She nodded toward a pile of folders on the credenza along the wall. “Now there’s another one.”

  “Some months we don’t lose anyone. On a bad month, we might have five or even six. Accidents, cancer, heart disease, stroke…I could name off another seven or eight causes we see on a regular basis. This county’s average resident is well above middle age now. It’s going to get worse.”

  “But I think I’m seeing a pattern,” Erin said quietly. “I’ve gone back through five years of records on one particular physician’s admissions. Older, male, all DNR—except the one last night—so only he was coded. Two to four days in the hospital. Normal vitals recorded for their final twenty-four hours or so, and ready for discharge in the next day or two. Then they’ve suddenly passed away.”

  Grace shifted uneasily in her chair. “What about the autopsy results?”

  “Few were done. The causes were generally listed as some variation of ‘old age,’ or based on the admission diagnosis…mostly pneumonia or heart failure.”

  “Which is still possible.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s what I’m hoping for. But it’s also easier to cause an elderly person’s death, because one tends to accept that it will happen sooner or later.”

  Before, she’d clearly resisted the possibility, but now Grace swallowed hard. “You said this has been related to just one practice.”

  “I don’t know for sure—that’s why I need help from someone I can trust. I’ve pulled old admission records from Hadley’s patients, but I haven’t had time to start reviewing everything from the past.”

  “Hadley? This has to be a coincidence,” Grace insisted, but her eyes filled with concern. “He’s a
fine doctor.”

  “And I would love to prove you right.”

  Grace hesitated for just a heartbeat. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want this review to be kept absolutely quiet, for now. I don’t want to risk damaging the reputations of staff members or this hospital. If I’m wrong, unfounded rumors could be catastrophic.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ve used old census records to find the names of patients who passed away here, and I’ve started going through their charts with a fine-tooth comb.” Erin picked up a folder and handed it across the desk. “This is a list for you, and I have one for myself. If we can split up the load, maybe we can have some answers within the week.”

  “And…then what?”

  “Depending on what we find, we may need to take the information to a private meeting with the hospital board.”

  The woman’s shoulders sagged, and she looked as if she’d aged ten years in the past five minutes. She was thinking, no doubt, about what this could mean to her lifelong friends and co-workers here at the hospital.

  Images of Connor filled Erin’s thoughts as she met and held the older woman’s gaze. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but we have to do what’s right. It’s the only thing we can do.”

  DREW SAT ON THE TOP STEP of the porch with his chin resting on his palms, staring down the driveway. Haley and the other kids were inside, playing Monopoly until Erin came home, but he didn’t dare take a chance on leaving his post.

  He’s gonna come today, I’m sure of it. But the minutes ticked by with no sign of the floppy-eared pup bounding up the road. No sign of him out in the meadow or in the woods beyond…and it had been five long nights since Scout had disappeared.

  Drew had hated this place at first—so far away from sidewalks for skateboarding, and the crowd of kids in his old neighborhood who hung around the playground after school.

  Mom had never cared much if he and Tyler didn’t come straight home. In fact, it was usually better not to, because you just never knew who’d be there with her. Some of those guys had a mean streak, and the sickly sweet, smoky haze in the apartment made him dizzy. Tyler sometimes threw up or started to wheeze, and they’d both have to go out on the fire escape with blankets, where Drew would tell Tyler stories to make him stop crying.

  There’d never been the time or chance to make good friends back there, but here Scout had become his instant best buddy. He’d slept at the foot of Drew’s bed…though by morning, he was usually curled up on the pillow or nestled next to Drew’s chest, all warm and soft.

  Drew rubbed away the hot tears beneath his eyelids. Stupid dog. Stupid, stupid dog.

  Seeing a flicker of motion through the trees, he launched himself to his feet—but then Dr. Reynolds’s Tahoe appeared at the bend in the lane. Drew sank back to the step and fought the urge to cry.

  By the time Reynolds pulled to a stop in front of the cabin and climbed out from behind the wheel, Drew had gritted his teeth and forced his I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude back into place.

  “Hey, there,” Reynolds called out, an easy smile on his face. “What’s up?”

  Drew jerked a shoulder and ignored him.

  “No sign of him?” The doctor dropped onto the top step next to Drew and rested his forearms on his knees. “There’s still a chance, though. It’s only been a few days.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I took Maisie and searched this area for him late Sunday night, Monday and yesterday. If he’d been killed outright, I think I would have found him by now.”

  Surprised, Drew turned to look at him. “You did that? For us?”

  “I know Scout means a lot to all of you, Drew.”

  His flash of hope faded, and a hot tear escaped Drew’s tightly squeezed eyes. “He could have been hurt bad by a wolf and escaped, then died someplace else.”

  “When a dog attacks, it tends to slash and nip. Wolves are expert killers. They’re powerful, fast, and take their prey down with a few well-placed bites. He wouldn’t have gotten away. Like I said, I found no sign of him. Maybe you didn’t hear wolves, after all.”

  “The guys at school say their dads were gonna go out and shoot the wolves on sight.”

  “That’s against the law, because they’re still on the threatened list. Once they’re delisted, you could shoot them if they’re attacking livestock or pets on private land, but you’d have to tell the authorities, and prove it was true.”

  Drew snorted in disgust. “Like that would work. No one would ever believe you, anyway. Me and Tyler—” He caught himself sharply and looked away, heat climbing up into his cheeks over what he’d nearly said.

  Connor sat quietly next to him, his hands still loosely clasped. After a long silence, he leaned to the side and bumped his shoulder gently against Drew’s. “Erin has never said a word, and I’m not asking. I just want to tell you, though, that I’d guess you’ve been through some tough times.”

  Drew flinched.

  “And I also think you must be an incredibly strong kid to have braved whatever happened in the past. I just wish I could have made this one thing better for you, by being able to bring back your dog.”

  Strong and brave? Drew nearly swore in disgust over just how far wrong he was. Yet—the kindness in his voice felt good, like salve on a fresh burn. “Me, too.”

  “So, are you boys going to dress up for Halloween and go trick-or-treating? It’s this Friday, isn’t it?”

  “That’s kid stuff.”

  “And what are you, an old man? Why not have some fun?”

  The whole idea seemed so foreign, so out of place in his world that Drew couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Didn’t Erin take you out on Halloween last year?”

  He shook his head. “We weren’t with her yet.”

  “And you didn’t ever go trick-or-treating before that?” Connor slid an assessing glance at him. “I could sure see you as Predator. Or maybe an alien.”

  “I never did that crap. Go out on the street at night in my old neighborhood, and you’re asking to die.”

  “That bad, huh? Sounds like where I lived during medical school. I saw a lot of my neighbors in the E.R. on Saturday nights.”

  Drew tried to never think about his own old home. About Mom, and old Miz Mendez down the hall, with her cane and wispy hair, and sugary sopapillas that were light as air. About the hot summer nights up on the roof, where the sharp smell of asphalt made his eyes burn, and music from a dozen bars down the street blared into a nightmare of sounds that could’ve belonged in a horror movie.

  Where gunshots rang out and people screamed. And safe places were far away from the people who should have loved you most.

  He didn’t even realize he was crying until Connor reached over, hung an arm around his shoulder and gave him a hug. “It’s okay, kid. You’re going to be all right.”

  Embarrassed, Drew swiped away his tears and lowered his head. And he would have pulled away, except…the weight of Connor’s arm felt safe and warm, and he couldn’t remember letting anyone come this close. Even Erin—because he’d been too afraid.

  “I know you’ve had it tough, and that you’ve had to take care of your brother. He’s one lucky little guy. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

  “Lucky?” Drew jerked away and hunched over, with his arms wrapped tightly around his middle, trying to hold back his sobs as an image of Mom’s last boyfriend crawled into his mind.

  “I sent our mom to prison, and she won’t get out till we’re both grown up. Tell me—how lucky is that?”

  CONNOR STAYED ON THE porch steps until Erin arrived home from work, though Drew had long since gone inside the house and thundered up the stairs to his room.

  She gave him an uncertain glance as she got out of her car, then strode up to the cabin with an overflowing briefcase at her side. “Did you stop to see the kids? I’m sure they must be inside with Haley. They should be doing homework…though I wouldn’t bet on it.”

&
nbsp; “I stopped to see you, actually, but ran into Drew first. I thought you should hear about it before you go inside.”

  Alarm flashed in her eyes as she faltered to a stop at the bottom of the steps. “Is he okay? Oh, no—did he find Scout dead somewhere?”

  Connor reached out to steady her. “Not yet. God willing, that pup will still turn up.”

  She adjusted her grip on the briefcase and tilted her head. “Then what?”

  “I was only making conversation. He was feeling down about Scout…and one thing led to another. He started crying, and said he’d sent his mother to prison. Then he raced into the house and I could hear him run upstairs from way out here.”

  “Oh.” A hand at her throat, she leaned against the railing and let the briefcase drop.

  “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

  “He’s never talked about his past with me. I’ve tried to give him his space, so when he feels the time is right he can tell me what he wants to share. But…I do know. The social workers told me when they were trying to dissuade Sam and me from adopting him.”

  “They didn’t want to give him a chance at a good home?”

  “They wanted us to be very sure, because they didn’t want to risk the adoption failing. They figured that at his age, with his attitude, most families wouldn’t give him a shot…or they’d start trying to deal with his behavior, then want to send him back.”

  “He did send his mom to prison?”

  “Yes. And if I had my choice, she and her boyfriend would have gotten fifty years instead of twenty-five. They were dealing. They had a meth lab in the basement. Do you know how volatile and dangerous those things are?”

  “I have some idea. I worked in an E.R. for two years.”

  “His mother and the boyfriend were high most of the time, abusive when they weren’t. Tyler was twenty pounds underweight for his height when I first got him. Drew tried to defend his brother no matter what—but then the boyfriend took…a special interest in Tyler.”