“Time for the memory service, Mr. Llewellyn,” Susanna said.
“Come on, Dad. We don’t want to miss this,” the younger Llewellyn said before glancing at her. “We’ll bring Dad.”
“I’ll see you there, then.” Susanna left the room.
The mobile medical cart was parked only a few doors down, and Kimberly typed into a laptop opened on top of it. She glanced up from the laptop. “G’morning, Ms. Adams.”
“Good morning, Kimberly. Collecting Mr. Llewellyn for the service. Are we missing anyone else, do you know? Last call.”
“I think we’ve sent everyone who’s going. Ryan just took the last group. Oh, wait, Ms. Adams. You might check Mrs. Donaire. I don’t remember seeing her head out yet.”
“Will do,” she said with a smile, and headed past the nurses’ station to Mrs. Donaire’s room, where Susanna found a CNA applying makeup to Mrs. Donaire’s roommate, Mrs. Previn.
“Is Mrs. Donaire attending the memory service?” Susanna asked.
The CNA shook her head. “She’s waiting for a shower.” Then she turned to Mrs. Donaire. “Hold up, honey. I’ll be right there. I can’t put Mrs. Previn out on the floor half-dressed.”
The woman looked dressed from where Susanna stood, but perhaps makeup and hair had been important to her once. Mrs. Previn was in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s and hadn’t interacted in a number of years, according to the staff. But she did look lovely with her peaceful smile and neatly coiffed hair.
“I know your shower will be worth the wait,” Susanna told Mrs. Donaire before slipping out of the room with a smile, knowing that sort of caring concern was priceless.
Moving down the hall toward the security doors and lobby, she wondered if Jay had returned or if she’d need to step in.
“He’s not here,” a raised voice said from inside a room as Susanna passed. “You don’t belong here, either.”
The distressed tone brought Susanna to an automatic stop. After a quick glance at the biographies, she stepped closer to the opened doorway to find a small woman with tight gray curls. She was contained within a strolling walker, a transportation device made from a PVC frame on castors for mobile residents who required more support than a standard walker.
“Millie doesn’t belong here.” Mrs. Munsell’s voice escalated as she yelled from her bed by the window. “This isn’t her room.”
The gray-haired woman was wedged inside the doorway, the frame of her transportation device not allowing for easy access past the abundance of furnishings that transformed Mrs. Munsell’s side of the room into a cozy Victorian parlor.
Millie turned a frantic gaze on Susanna. “Have you seen my husband? Is he with you?”
“He’s not in here.” Mrs. Munsell was well on her way to anxiety for all appearances. “I told you. Go look for him in your room. You don’t belong here.”
“Isn’t this my room, honey?”
“No!”
“Oh, forgive me. I’m so sorry,” Millie said, expression crumbling. She turned to Susanna. “He’s going to go without me. You won’t let him go without me, will you?”
“He’s not here,” Mrs. Munsell insisted.
“Millie,” Susanna said, unclear where Millie thought her husband had gone. “Is your husband going to the memory service?”
The woman turned a worried gaze to Susanna and shook her head emphatically. “No, no, honey. He’s going to see Jesus, and he’s waiting for me. Have you seen him? I don’t want him to go without me. I have to find him.”
Oh. Susanna motioned Millie from the room. “I’ll help you. No worries. Why don’t we go look together?”
“You’ll help me, honey? You promise? Oh, sweet Jesus, help me find him or there’s going to be real trouble.”
“I’m sure he’ll wait, Millie.”
“Did you tell him? He might not know to wait.”
“I told him. It’s okay.”
Her wrinkled face brightened. “You really think so?”
“I do.” Susanna stepped aside to let Millie maneuver the transport device through the open doorway.
She glanced down the hallway in one direction then the other. “Which way did he go? Did you see which way he went?”
Susanna wanted to calm the woman, allay her fears if not her confusion. “Let’s check this way.”
“Yes, let’s do. We have to find him. Will he be in my room? Is that where my room is?”
Truthfully, Susanna didn’t have a clue. Somewhere behind these security doors. That much she did know. Falling into step next to Millie, they headed back the way Susanna had come.
Millie moved along at a surprisingly spry pace, which explained the need for a strolling walker. Likely not for support, but protection as Millie tooled through these halls at top speed, apparently in and out of strangers’ rooms.
Arriving at the end of the hall, they were in sight of the empty nurses’ station when Millie let out a soft cry.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, he left. He left me.” She lifted her panicked expression to Susanna’s and burst into tears. “He’s gone to see Jesus without me.”
Millie sank onto the walker seat as if her legs had turned to rubber. Big tears squeezed from beneath tightly shut eyes. Her voice was a broken whisper as she chanted, “Sweet Jesus, have mercy on us, have mercy on us, have mercy on us.”
Susanna sank to her knees and wrapped her hands around the knot of tightly held fingers. “Have mercy on us,” she joined the prayer, their voices no more than a whisper.
Praying seemed to calm Millie, and Susanna watched the transformation until her knees ached. Millie finally took a shallow breath, then another. “He’ll help me find him.”
Susanna knew whom Millie meant. “He will.”
Millie lifted teary eyes to Susanna, bringing to mind the memory of the time Brandon had pulled free of her grip and run off during a trip to Home Depot. He’d been mischievous and laughing as he tore off on his sturdy little legs for the chase. By the time Susanna had gotten to the end of the aisle, he’d vanished. Ten endless minutes and a dozen gray hairs later, she’d found her son cowering inside a garden shed display, a small boy who’d apparently suddenly realized he was alone.
“He will, Millie. No worries.”
Kimberly caught sight of them as she pushed her cart around the corner. “Mrs. Carlson, what are you doing down here?”
Millie Carlson. Susanna pushed herself up on creaking knees. “We were looking for Mrs. Carlson’s husband.”
Kimberly nodded. “Well, you won’t find him down here. Try room 112. Bed by the window. Unless you’ve changed your mind and want to go to the memory service, Mrs. Carlson. You always like the balloons. Why don’t you get out and get some fresh air.”
“I love balloons.” Mrs. Carlson perked up and a beaming smile broke through her tears like the sun from behind the clouds on a rainy day. “They go straight up to Jesus.”
“That’s right. They do,” Kimberly agreed. “You want to go?”
“Oh, I do, honey. I do.”
“I’m heading that way,” Susanna offered.
Kimberly smiled. “I’ll let Henry know where she is. Just hook her up with Cheyenne down there. She’s got some of our crew there already. She’ll be sure Mrs. Carlson makes it back.”
“Thanks, Kimberly. Come on, Mrs. Carlson. This way.”
Susanna motioned in the direction of the front lobby then had to hustle to keep up. She wondered if Jay had arrived by now or if they were
waiting on her.
* * *
THE MEMORY SERVICE? Jay overheard the conversation and realized he had completely forgotten it. A quick glance at his watch confirmed he was late.
“Now what are you doing in those trees, Mr. C?” Kimberly fixed him with a quizzical gaze as he stepped from behind a bushy corn plant that would need to be repotted soon.
She glanced over her shoulder at Susanna and Mrs. Carlson making their way down the hall. “Oh. Spying. Got it.”
“Not spying.”
Kimberly pursed her mouth. “Guess you miss hiding in the bushes like you did when you were a kid. That it?”
“Something like that,” he muttered beneath his breath as he sidestepped the med dispenser cart and started after Susanna.
“Be happy to fill you in with reports about your replacement, you know. Just say the word. We’re all keeping our eyes on her, anyway.”
“Not necessary.” Jay wasn’t embarrassed exactly, but not feeling the need to explain, either.
Wouldn’t do any good. They all knew him too well. He’d come in through the employee door and was heading back to Walter’s office when he’d heard Susanna’s voice. That was all. He couldn’t have walked past without interrupting them, and he hadn’t wanted to do that. Not when Susanna had been doing such a bang-up job calming down Mrs. Carlson.
But Kimberly would think what Kimberly wanted to think then she’d share it with the rest of the caregivers in the break room.
Jay didn’t bother with a reply but propelled himself into motion. Had he ever before forgotten a service? None that he could remember, which either testified to his turmoil about Susanna or proof he was exhibiting early-onset Alzheimer’s symptoms. Not unheard-of at his age, unfortunately, and with a family history like his....
His head had been buzzing after his conversation with Gerald, which was the only reason Jay had almost bowled right into Mrs. Carlson, anyway. He hadn’t even seen Susanna crouched beside the walker. Not at first. Not until he’d heard her voice, all brisk northern wind and hushed reverence, as steady and reassuring as Mrs. Carlson’s had been fretful.
Mrs. Carlson was prone to panic spells, and Jay could easily imagine the scene Susanna had encountered. Mrs. Carlson was all about thanking Jesus for her every blessing and laughing with a childlike joy that had earned her resident of the month many times over during her years at The Arbors. But when the confusion set in, panic and fear were always right behind it.
Susanna’s actions had been both unexpected and appropriate. She hadn’t tried reasoning, which so many who were unfamiliar with Alzheimer’s tried. Not usually staff, of course, because no one applied for a job without Alzheimer’s qualifications.
Jay was quite explicit in his requirements on the website to the various job search agencies he worked with. But most families weren’t blessed with medical history like Jay’s family, which was why he and Kimberly conducted a series of mandatory basic management classes for the families of all new residents.
Understanding behaviors and good management skills were essential to successful handling of loved ones who suffered from Alzheimer’s—for the resident and for the family members. Most of those skills involved correct understanding of the disease, common sense and caring.
Susanna had handled Mrs. Carlson with all three.
Inputting his passcode, Jay slipped through the doors before they’d barely opened and wound up hidden in the palm trees when he saw the large group of people congregated outside in the circle driveway.
The earth hadn’t stopped revolving, and the service had gone on without him.
The scene was familiar but for the woman who stood beside the fountain addressing the group, sandwiched between Reverend Martin and Tessa. And Mrs. Carlson, whom Susanna seemed to have recruited as an assistant, judging by the scrapbooks Mrs. Carlson held stacked in her lap, which Jay knew contained memorabilia for the families who’d lost their loved ones.
For a moment all Jay could see was how natural Susanna looked there, an adornment that had been plunked down into the setting on purpose. Susanna’s silky dark hair caught the sunlight, a smile lingering around her full mouth as she delivered the perfect words to make her audience smile, too.
She looked as right standing there as he felt wrong hiding in the potted plants instead of welcoming the families of residents he—not Susanna—had cared for. She didn’t know who those folks had been before they’d died, before Alzheimer’s had robbed them of every shred of personality that made them them.
As Jay watched Susanna turn the service over to the preacher, who would give a blessing, he could hear Gerald’s voice. “She needs The Arbors.”
Gerald had been right about one thing, as much as Jay hated to admit it. The best person to entrust administration of this place would be one who would invest herself with the most important asset of all.
The compassion to care.
Jay had just witnessed the caring firsthand.
* * *
SUSANNA STARED AT JAY. His chiseled features were unfamiliar in the glare of the floodlights surrounding the circle driveway, the only light besides the crescent moon.
Confrontation was coming.
She knew it with every fiber of her being. The only thing saving her right now was that the Olivanti family was still loading up in the car after a late-night facility visit, and Jay was too professional to air grievances in front of a potential resident’s family.
In the days since he’d agreed to proceed with the transition if she agreed to be mentored, Susanna had learned to recognize when he was gearing up for battle. Of course she wanted to learn everything he had to share, but her agreement had subtly shifted the balance of power in their relationship.
Jay was a bit of a bully.
As far as he was concerned, he knew what was best for The Arbors in all circumstances and seemed determined to bring Northstar around to his way of thinking rather than work to come up with an effective compromise.
Susanna was growing concerned his attitude would undermine the entire process of a smooth transition and hoped this resistance was only a knee-jerk reaction to her inexperience. She was trying to ride out the storm, so to speak.
Unfortunately, she also had a niggling suspicion the real trouble was Jay. Her inexperience had only given him something tangible to latch onto because he wasn’t at peace about leaving, which was why he’d been micromanaging from the start.
Things would have to change if the acquisition happened. Whether Northstar took over or another corporation. Whether she picked up the reins as property administrator or someone else did. The only way to maintain the status quo was for Jay to stay.
Or clone himself.
She wondered if he’d thought of that.
Exhaling heavily, she stood beside him, so aware of his tall presence in the cool night, the way the overhead lamps cast shadows that made him seem taller and bigger than he was. More masculine. Which he had in spades on a normal day.
Finally, the last of Mr. Olivanti’s entourage drove away. The twinkle of red taillights hadn’t yet faded into darkness before Jay asked, “Why did you have Mr. Llewellyn’s recliner moved? Chester mentioned it this morning, but I forgot until we were in his room with Mr. Olivanti’s son.”
Here it was—the confrontation she’d known was coming.
“The chair was in the middle of the room, Jay, right between Mr. Llewellyn’s bed and Mr. Shepherd’s.”
“And?”
&
nbsp; “And it was blocking the room divider and obstructing the walkway.”
Jay stared at her for a suspended moment, his eyes so dark in the shadows they might have belonged to a stranger. “Mr. Llewellyn’s chair wasn’t infringing on the easement. Lots of residents in the nursing center share their televisions, and Mr. Shepherd doesn’t mind. Trust me on this. He has a macular problem. He can’t even see the television.”
“I understand you want to accommodate the residents. I want to accommodate them, too. But not by creating liability.”
He gave a slight shake of his head, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “You’re worried about liability?”
“Yes.” He should be, too.
“This is memory care, Susanna. If we worried about every little thing that might go wrong, we wouldn’t be able to provide any quality of life for our residents. We’d keep them locked in their rooms all day.”
It was the smile playing at the corners of his mouth, his obvious condescension, which irked her so completely. “You’re saying we shouldn’t adhere to precautions for the residents’ safety? Is that the lesson here?”
“No. No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying there are no hard-and-fast rules. You can’t legislate common sense with corporate guidelines and legal worries.”
Susanna may not have years as an administrator behind her, but she knew Northstar policy and procedure. That’s where they needed to wind up—with an acceptable compromise. Toward that end, she’d welcomed Jay’s instruction, had gracefully allowed their relationship to transform into one of mentor and protégé.
But to keep on equal footing, she had to educate him in the policies and procedures of corporate senior living. They both brought something to the table, but this man seemed determined to dig in his heels about the simplest things. She resisted the urge to ask him—again—why he was leaving The Arbors since he didn’t want anything to change. Then at least she could stop obsessing and trying to figure out why he wanted to leave.
The Time of Her Life Page 14