Autumn takes a couple of steps forward, talks to one of the nurses. The nurse whispers to one of the negotiators.
“Okay, Autumn. They said you can try to talk to her.” She guides Autumn by the elbow, brings her within a few feet of Estee.
“Estee, it’s me, Autumn. Put the knife down, sweetie. It’s time to go to church.”
“Ha! Now that’s a clever one, isn’t it,” Estee shouts.
“Estee. You know me—Autumn.”
“He takes many forms.”
She pulls the aide closer. One of the attendants comes up behind Autumn and puts his mouth to her ear. “Okay, step back. I think you’re making it worse.”
“But, she knows me. I can help.”
“No, she doesn’t recognize you. She thinks you’re the devil. Step back!”
Autumn and I stand against the wall and watch as the attendants try to enter Estee’s delusion, manipulate it to their advantage. Nothing works. Estee’s eyes are wild, black, darting around the room. One of the attendants sneaks along the back wall by the showers and approaches Estee from the rear. He has a large syringe in one hand, leather restraints in the other. Just as he steps away from the wall, she turns.
It looks like she’s drawing a line across the aide’s neck with red pencil. The knife moves slowly and deliberately across the aide’s throat, curves upward toward her ear as Estee’s hand finishes the arc. The aide makes a gurgling sound, clutches her neck as she crumples to the floor. Attendants are on her immediately, applying pressure, carrying her from the room where a stretcher waits in the hall.
Estee waves the knife back and forth in front of her body, stabbing at anybody who comes close. The attendants clear the room, pushing Autumn and me into the hall. I hear a scuffle from the bathroom as they jab me toward the dayroom. We stand with the others in the doorway as the attendants pass, dragging Estee by the straps in the back of the strait jacket. Her head dangles forward, her legs trail along the tile floor.
She disappears.
Chapter 47
THE OBSERVER November 2, 1969
Page 11
Admissions:
Randal Fife, Marquette, Mi
Lillian Brayfield, Prudenville, Mi
Felicia Courtland, Grayling, Mi
Jeffrey Bednarczyk, Rosebush, Mi
Home Leaves:
Luanne Kilpi
Nadine Peltzer
Rhonda Knapp
Samuel Gray
Discharges:
Gerald Grisdale
Benedict Falmouth
Staff Terminations
Joseph Doremire
Bonnie Harrison
Judith McInerney
Valerie Petrowski
Retirements:
Bernice Laferty
I pick up the hospital newspaper and search for news of the aide who Estee attacked with a knife in Hall 9. I’m not surprised when I find nothing in the Observer. The hospital grapevine reports the victim is recovering at Munson Hospital.
I walk to the tool crib to meet Carl. We have fall cleanup to attend to. He’s at the picnic table, behind the paper. “Hi, Carl.”
“Mornin, Lu. I read Joe Doremire’s name in the staff terminations. I guess he really got fired—just a few months before his scheduled retirement. He’s gone.”
“Do you think he might try to hurt you?”
“Nah. Haven’t heard anything. No surprise visits, no threats.”
“He could still be out there, Carl. Waiting.”
“No need to worry. I’m fine. Besides, I’ve got more dirt on him and I’m not afraid to use it. Judy’s gone and now it don’t matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I might as well back up a bit and tell you the whole story.”
“Okay.”
“It was early June, l947 when Doris Lobsinger, then Doris Doremire, came under Judy’s supervision. According to Judy, Doris paid her dues working in Hall 5, and despite her checkered work record, seniority finally won out and she transferred to Judy’s hall.
“The nurses were taking their lunch in the staff dining hall. Anything yet? Judy’s best friend, Bev, whispered to Judy. Gramma visited last night, Judy told her. We were trying to have a baby, and Judy had started her monthly. It was always a big disappointment.
“Later that afternoon, Doris was assisting Judy in the nurses’ station, doling out tranquilizers into little paper cups for the three o’clock med line.
Ah …maybe I shouldn’t butt in, Doris said.
What is it? Judy asked. You tryin’ to have a baby”
What”
Calm down. I’m tryin’ to help you.
Help me what? Judy set the medication jar on the shelf.
Would you like a baby?
Judy told me she was shocked. What are you getting at, Mrs. Doremire?
My husband and me …we know somebody wantin’ to adopt out a baby.
Who?
Somebody here at the hospital. Ah …I can’t say …baby’s due this summer. I mean, her daughter’s pregnant …due to give birth soon.
“Oh? A newborn then? What agency? Judy said she tried not to show her interest, but she was bustin’ with excitement.
“No agency. Cash and carry deal.
“Is that legal? Judy started to get nervous.
“Sure it’s legal. Ah, there won’t be no papers or anything.
“No papers? Judy’s no dummy, now she was really startin’ to get suspicious.
“Maybe it’s not what you’d call totally on the up and up. Do you want a baby or not?
“Well, yes. Yes, of course. Let me talk to my husband. Her heart took over at that point, and by the time she got home, she could hardly talk.
“I’m in the barn tendin’ a sick cow when I hear her yellin’ from the back porch. I pat the cow’s flanks, stomp across the floor, stick my head out the barn door and wave to Judy. Out here, hon. Got a cow with a bad foot.
“Judy bursts through the door, still in her uniform. Carl, we could get a baby! Doris Doremire, you know the new aide on the Hall? Well, she got me in the nurses’ station. Apparently she overheard Bev and me talking at lunch about my period and all, and she says to me, You want a baby? and I said, What? And, anyway, she tells me she knows somebody who’s going to give birth soon, wants to adopt out the baby.
“Whoa! Slow down. Here, sit. I lower myself onto a bale of hay, pull Judy onto my lap. Now, tell me the story.
“I haven’t seen my wife this excited since our wedding day. To tell you the truth, the prospect of a baby has my own heart pumping. But after hearing the story, I’m worried there is something shady about it. I have questions. Doremire? Any relation to Joe Doremire?
“Her husband, I think.
“Joe in on this?
“I’m not sure. Why?
“He worked for me at the hospital farm. Got transferred. He’s a bad egg, Judy.
“Will you go to a meeting? Oh, Carl, this could be the answer to our prayers.
“She’s so happy, I can’t say no. I don’t know …
“Carl, please!
Okay, sure. We can find out more about it. I hate to see Judy get her hopes up. Joe Doremire has been a thorn in my side on the farm since he came in as a hand. But, Joe isn’t the one havin’ a baby.
“Judy and me met with the Doremires at City Park two days later, after work. I wanted details. I tried to balance out Judy’s enthusiasm with a little common sense. She was so taken by the idea of bein’ a mother, she would have taken the baby no questions asked.
“Joe’s story was Doris’s teenage niece got pregnant by a boy from a good family. They managed to keep the pregnancy a secret by keepin’ the unwed mother to the house since school let out. Their plan was to have the baby at home—pretend it never happened. There’s no birth record, and that’s a problem. We have to have the child’s birth certificate to make her a legitimate member of our family.
“That’s your problem. Joe Doremire said. Five thousand dollars
for expenses, payable in cash when we give you the baby. I told him we didn’t have that kind of money. He stood up, Come on, Doris. I told you. We’re wasting our time. I looked over at Judy, her face seemed frozen, like she was standin’ in front of a firing squad. I just couldn’t hurt her. No, no. Sit down, just a minute now, I said. This don’t sound legal, I mean, how can we get a birth certificate. We gotta’ have a birth certificate.
“I told you, I don’t know. That’s why you’re gettin’ this deal.
“We could talk to a lawyer, I guess, I said.
“You crazy? No, I can check with a guy I know. Not wastin’ my time ‘til I get an answer, though. You in? We got others interested.
“How long do we have …to get the money, I mean. I just had to make this work, for Judy.
“Who knows? She ain’t had it yet, but it could be any day now.
“Gimme a week to get to the bank, sell off some cows.
“I’ll give you a week, if I got it. If the baby comes, the money is due.
“Fair enough. We’ll need to see the baby, and a birth certificate, before we hand over the money.
“We’ll contact you. Joe pulled his wife up by the arm, turned, and left.”
“Wow. Weren’t you excited, Carl? A baby.” I’m so wrapped up in Carl’s story, I feel like I’m Judy.
“Course, course I was excited, but I also felt like we were making a big mistake. To trust Doremire? Seemed like jumping into the ocean without a life jacket.”
“Well, come on. Keep going. I know you got the baby, but what happened next?”
“When the phone call came, Judy and me drove to City Park with the money wrapped in heavy brown meat paper. I pulled up, and when I came ‘round to open Judy’s door, I spotted Joe. Sittin’ next to him at the picnic table sat Doris, a small bundle in her lap. Doris stood when she saw us approach and handed the baby to Judy. After examinin’ her, Judy carefully rewrapped the baby in the receiving blanket, held the infant to her shoulder.
“I tell you, Luanne, I’ve never seen a baby as beautiful. She was perfect, all the fingers and toes wiggling happily. Judy smiles at me with as close to bliss as I’d ever seen.” Carl wipes his eyes.
“Did you give him the money?”
“Yup. I handed Joe the money. It’s all here. Where’s the birth certificate, I said.
“We don’t have one yet. Baby came early. It’ll take a couple more weeks, Doremire said.
“That’s not what we agreed to. Here we go, I thought to myself. Chiseled already. He sure didn’t waste no time.
“Carl, please. Judy was about to fall apart.
“Okay, okay. I know where to find you, I told Joe.
“And I know where to find you, Carl.”
Chapter 48
The ghost trips leaving the porch. He steps off the sidewalk onto the crunchy lawn. Cochise and Roy Rogers brush past him toward the light.
“Trick or treat,” they sing-song.
“Hi, kids.” I offer the basket. “Take one.” Tiny red fingers rifle the treasure trove, pull out a Slo-Poke and a licorice. “Bye, kids, stay warm.”
I pull the door closed and return to the couch, squeezing in next to a hooker in black fishnet hose, a tight satin skirt.
“Looks like they’re about done,” she says.
“Should we turn off the porch light?” Mom looks up from her sewing.
“Let’s wait,” Molly says. “I can shut it off when Jess picks me up.” She stands up and adjusts her tight sweater. Teetering on spike heels, she turns in front of me.
“Seams straight, Lu?”
“Perfect. Your make-up is hilarious. Where did you get the bright blue eye shadow?”
“Had it.” She pushes her hand around on her ratted hair, patting the sides into place.
“Oh, there’s Jess.” Molly swings a fake fur stole over her shoulders. “Be home by twelve.” She wobbles out the door, snapping the light switch as she leaves.
“I told her not to wear that get-up.” Mom pulls her needle through the wool fabric of a skirt, lock-stitching around the hem.
“I think she’s a riot. I’m turning in early, Mom, right after Mission Impossible. It’s a long drive back up north.”
“Is eight-thirty early enough to get up?” Mom asks.
“I have to be back in the cottage by one.”
“Will you drive up?”
“Molly’s going, right?”
“She can drive back, but I get nervous with her—she just got her license. She doesn’t watch the road, drives too fast.”
“I don’t mind driving up, Mom.”
I’m tired, so tired. So tired it feels like the mattress has flipped, and I’m caught between it and the box springs. I hear a faint crying. Just a couple of minutes …just a little more sleep, then I can …
“Mommy, Mommy.” A tiny voice, so far away. Just a second …My arms and legs feel paralyzed, as if the wires between my brain and my body have short circuited.
“ Mommy.” A voice so small, like the squeaky bawling of a kitten.
I open my mouth to answer, but my lips are frozen. Jeff …Jeff …Jeff, it’s the baby, the baby …I push against some kind of force. I roll from under it, and pull myself up. I drag toward the hallway as if wading through sand.
The house is dark, silent. A low light glows from the cracked door of Alexander’s room. I push open the door, inch toward the crib. I grasp the railing, lean forward, peer down on the rumpled blankets, my baby …asleep …motionless. I lift the covers …fuzzy gray …round little paws …He opens his eyes, cat eyes, “Meow, meow, Mommy.” The scream is in my throat.
The light switches on.
“Hey, hey.” Molly shakes my arm. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me. You’re soaking wet.”
“I …I …I killed my baby.”
“What?”
“What’s the matter?” Mom stands at the doorway.
“Lu had a bad dream.” Molly’s eyes fix on my face.
“Do you need a pill?” Mom asks.
“Ah …yeah. Bottle’s by the kitchen sink.” I bring my hands to my forehead, slide them back into my hair and squeeze my head as if I can force it to clear.
“Luanne?” Molly whispers.
“Sorry. It was a bad dream. I didn’t take my pill.”
“Jeez.” Molly hugs me.
I drag into the kitchen the next morning, sit down at the table.
“You’re quiet.” Mom drops two slices of bread into the toaster.
“I’m groggy, Mom. Took my pill late.”
“Bad dream, huh?”
“I guess so, I don’t really remember. Mom, I don’t think I can drive.”
“Okay. I can do it.”
“I might just sleep on the way up.”
“That’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It doesn’t seem like you’re up to it. Didn’t you tell me your doctor thought you could be out by Christmas?”
“That’s the plan. Why?”
“I just want you to be ready is all.”
I sip my coffee. One bad dream and Mom is ready to keep me locked up. I turn to gaze out the back window at the chickadees on the bird feeder. No, she probably is just concerned. What was it Dr. Murray said? Sometimes you project your own feelings on somebody else. Is that what I’m doing? Was I doing it now? Projecting my fears and doubts on Mom? There’s no question I fear leaving the hospital. The dream has shaken me, shaken me badly.
As soon as I say goodbye to Mom and Molly in the foyer of Cottage 23, I look for Nurse Delaney.
“I know its Sunday, but I was wondering if I could talk to Dr. Murray today?”
“She’s not on call this weekend. Can I can help you?”
“Something happened over the weekend. I …guess …I could wait until tomorrow.”
“You’re not suicidal or anything?”
“I …I don’t know.”
“I’ll call Dr. Murray. She may want to talk to you on th
e phone. Or Dr. Webster is on call?”
“Thank you. I’d like to talk to Dr. Murray, if that’s possible.” I go back to the dayroom to wait.
“Hey, how was your weekend?” Heidi drops into a chair beside me.
“Good.”
“I wish I could get out of here for a weekend. Raylene Cline said she couldn’t authorize a home visit ‘cuz she called my parents and neither one wanted me visitin’. Now that’s fuckin’ great, isn’t it? Get many trick-or-treaters?”
“Yes, we did …cute …Heidi, to tell you the truth, I had a bad weekend.”
“What happened?” She leans toward me.
“I …I’m confused, really.”
“Something with your mom?”
“No …no …I had this dream.”
An attendant walks into the dayroom. “Luanne, Dr. Murray is on the phone. She would like to talk to you.”
I follow the nurse to the sliding window. Nurse Delaney unlocks the cubicle, disappears, then reappears on the other side of the glass. She passes the clunky black receiver through the window, the springy cord tethered to a square office phone. I have to bend over and lean forward to bring the receiver to my ear.
“Hello? Yes, Dr. Murray …well, yes …hate to bother you, but …yes, that’s right …since I had this dream …okay, thank you.” I pass the receiver back.
“Dr. Murray is coming in to see me. She asked me to come to her office.”
An attendant escorts me through the tunnels to the administration building. When I get there, Dr. Murray is waiting.
“Now, tell me what happened.” Dr. Murray motions me to a seat.
“I …I think …well, I worry …I might have killed my baby.” That’s all I can get out before my voice breaks. I reach for a tissue.
“Was it the dream?”
“Yes. I guess so …well, the dream was very scary.”
“Tell me about it.”
I tell Dr. Murray about finding the kitten baby in the crib. I cry, stop several times to try to pull myself together.
“That’s a terrifying dream. But it doesn’t mean you killed Alexander.”
“I think I heard him that night and I was too tired to get up.”
“Okay. That’s okay. That’s understandable. Sometimes the body just gives out, overloaded with grief and stress.”
Admissions Page 18