by Bill Clem
Now, fifty years later, Margaret Melvin, like the others, repaid Baxter with undying loyalty.
Literally undying.
Chapter Four
While Margaret Melvin walked Paul toward his living quarters, he couldn’t help noticing the collection of old photographs on the corridor walls. One picture in particular caught his attention and he paused to examine it. It was an old black and white photo, yellowed over from age. A man in a fedora stood beside a small barge. Beside him were several natives who weren’t any taller than a small child. Bones decorated their noses and they held spears. Behind them was a dense jungle bordered by a river.
Margaret, noticing Paul was no longer trailing her, backed up a few steps. She called out to him, “Paul.”
“I’m sorry. I noticed this picture. Is this a relative of Dr. Baxter? It looks just like him.”
Margaret nodded. “Oh yes. That was his father, Charles. He was quite the adventurer. They took that picture in the Amazon in 1933.”
“What’s with the pygmies?”
“He was there to study them.”
“What ever happened to him?”
Margaret heaved a sigh. “Unfortunately, there was an accident, and he was killed. Young Phillip never knew his father. This is one of the only pictures left of him.”
“That’s a shame. I know what its like to lose a parent. Both of mine were killed in a plane crash some years back. It’s hard.”
An awkward silence hung in the air.
“I’m sorry,” Margaret finally said.
“It’s okay. I’ve accepted it long ago. Gives me more empathy as a nurse.”
As they continued down the hall, several residents passed them. Paul was amazed. Everybody looked so healthy. Voices echoed from a large room with a fully stocked bar where what looked like a cocktail party was in progress. Paul couldn’t believe his eyes. This was more like a country club than a nursing home.
“Here we are,” Margaret said. She corralled a ring of keys from her jacket and opened the door.
“Here we go. You’re home away from home.”
Paul was impressed. A large living area complete with a spacious kitchen and dining area that opened to a large balcony overlooking the harbor. “It’s great,” Paul said.
“Yes, I think you’ll be very happy here. Feel free to look around. Just don’t get lost. Harbor View is a big place. Remember to turn right when you leave your room.”
“Why right?’
Margaret’s voice turned to ice. “The other way is the North Hall. The North Hall is off limits.”
Chapter Five
With his curiosity growing by the minute, Paul found it impossible to sleep. He sat up in bed and flipped on the nightlight. The conversation he’d had with Margaret Melvin had left him unsettled. Gracious and polite initially, when asked about the North Hall she suddenly seemed like she had been injected with refrigerant. Her eyes went cold and her voice was like stone.
Stay away from the north hall.
He had only asked out of professional curiosity. After all, if he was going to be working there, he had a right to know where things were located in case of an emergency.
Margaret explained that it was just a storage area that was off-limits to employees. An explanation Paul found peculiar at the very least. Sensing Margaret’s agitation, Paul had dropped the subject.
Now though, sitting in his bed, he had the distinct feeling her posture was more than just defensive. He decided to go for a walk and check it out. The North Hall was just a short way from his room, down two adjacent halls. The chances of anyone seeing him were slim. When he stepped out the door, he was surprised to see lights on, across the parking lot in the main building. It was long past time for the residents to be asleep. He could see shadowy figures moving about in the windows.
They sure keep late hours.
Of course, as with everything else he’d learned about Harbor View so far, nothing was normal here. At least, not in the sense of the typical nursing or retirement home.
Making his way down the long corridor toward the North Hall, it became more obvious just how old the building was. The deeper he went, the less modern it became. The remodeling attempts had stopped short of the hall he was in. Antiquated water pipes and electrical conduit were visible in the ceiling above him. A mechanical thump startled Paul and his Adam’s apple lodged in his throat for a second.
A minute later, he regained his composure and continued on. He thought about all the people who had lived and died there and how primitive medicine must have been back then. He felt goose flesh pop up on his arms and he tried to redirect his thought to more pleasant things. He should be ecstatic. New England had always held a fascination for him.
All those tales of witches and the supernatural.
Something about it all, though, left him feeling uneasy.
The North Hall was just ahead and he took a quick glance to make sure no one was there. He knew the doors to the rooms would be locked, so he had brought one of his credit cards to jimmy the lock. Pulling it from his pocket, he took one last look around and slipped the card between the door jam and lock. The door popped open easily and he pushed it the rest of the way open and took a few cautious steps inside.
The first thing to assault him was the dust. It wafted through the air and choked him before he could cover his mouth. It was obvious no one had been in there in years. Cobwebs were strung from wall to wall and Paul heard squeaking on the other side of the room. Mice? Rats?
He ran his hand along the wall and found the light switch. He flipped it on.
Nothing.
The light from the hall didn’t provide enough brightness to see much more than the outline of the room. It was piled high with antique furniture and old boxes. An image flooded his mind of being in his grandmother’s attic as a child. Then something in the center of the room caught his attention. It was an old steamer trunk. The kind people used to take on ships at the turn of the century. The light from the hall just barely reflected off the center of it, and Paul could see a large brass plate attached to the lid of it.
It was emblazoned with the initials C.A.B.
Paul thought for a moment, then it dawned on him. If he was right, those were the initials of Charles A. Baxter.
Disappointed that the light was not better, Paul vowed to come back with a flashlight. But not tonight. Tomorrow was going to be a big day and he needed to get some sleep. His first day on the job. But tomorrow night, he would come back.
He had the uneasy feeling Margaret had something to hide.
Chapter Six
Jennie Bradford turned off Interstate 70 at the Burlington exit and slowed her Volkswagen Beetle as she wound her way down the ramp. Now that she was almost there, a sense of excitement came over her. She had tied up all her loose ends at home, and was now headed to her first assignment as a Nursing Home Inspector for the State of Vermont. Although the job entailed a lot of travel, it was worth every mile. She was an advocate for the aged and infirm, and now she finally had the opportunity to make a difference. She’d heard the horror stories about bad nursing homes and experienced it herself when her grandmother was living in one back in Iowa. Jennie recalled her visits with her Nana; the awful odors of urine and feces that permeated the halls of the building, food that sat for hours waiting for hours for the overworked nurses to feed to the residents. It had left an indelible impression on the young Jennie and essentially chose her profession for her. She would make a difference in these people’s lives.
No one should have to live out the last years of his or her life as a throwaway.
As she headed off the expressway and onto the scenic roads of eastern Vermont, she thought of her Nana. Although she was long-since gone, there were plenty of others who needed an advocate.
Her first assignment was Harbor View, an upscale facility with a solid reputation. Their record was spotless. The former inspector had given them the highest rating possible. A feat not easily accomplished in
the health care industry, today.
Jennie did find one thing that stood out. Harbor View had not had a single admission in over twenty years.
Nor a single death.
Chapter Seven
Paul was busy introducing himself to the residents when Phillip Baxter walked up.
“Paul, good morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Restless. You know, first day of work and all.”
Baxter smiled. “Yes, I understand. I’m sure in a few days, you’ll settle in. By the way, I wanted to let you know, the state inspector is due here today. I forgot to mention it yesterday. They have to come once a year to make sure we’re taking good care of our people.”
“Is there anything I need to do?”
“I think your predecessor left you in pretty good shape actually. You’ll just need to show her around. Margaret will be there to help you.”
“That’s comforting. I barely know my own way around. By the way, what happened to the nurse who was here before me? I found some of her things in my apartment. I could send them to her.”
Baxter exhaled silently. “Oh, I’m sorry. Our custodian, Mr. Cregg was supposed to clean the apartment out. You’ll have to forgive him. He’s getting along in years.”
Paul shrugged. “It’s no big deal. There were some papers there she might need, though.”
“If you would be kind enough to bring them by the office, I’ll have Margaret take care of them.”
“Did she go to another job?” Paul asked, still wondering about the nurse.
Baxter stiffened. “Excuse me, Paul. I just realized what time it is. I have to go to a meeting. Enjoy your day.”
Paul resumed his introductions, but soon realized his mind was on Baxter and Margaret. Their evasive responses to any questions he posed were troubling.
“You must be the new guy,” a small wiry woman said to Paul. “I’m Sadie. Been here forty years.”
“Forty years!” Paul said.
* * *
Phillip Baxter stormed into his office and slammed his palm on the intercom button. “Margaret, get in here now!”
A second later, a worried looking Margaret Melvin hurried into the office.
Baxter sat, drumming his fingers on the desk.
“What’s the matter?” Margaret asked.
“It’s that fool Cregg. He’s screwed up again.”
Chapter Eight
Jennie Bradford flipped open her compact and gave herself a quick once-over in the tiny mirror. She licked her fingers and pushed her bangs to one side, finishing up the instant hairdo by blowing on the loose strands to fluff them up. It was a habit she had learned from her older sister. Jennie thought of herself as pretty in a boyish sort of way. Her Dorothy Hamill hairstyle had gone out of vogue years before but she kept it anyway, even as her friends all wore longer, more stylish cuts. Besides, Jennie was a triathlete and she found it much easier to get a swim cap on without a mountain of hair to cram under it.
She closed the compact and gazed out the car window at Harbor View. It was as impressive as she’d imagined. The building was a huge Victorian castle surrounded by massive oak trees and mazes of English Boxwood. Story had it, the building was originally owned by Charles Baxter, an eccentric doctor who had died in the Amazon in the 1930’s. By the looks of the place, he was definitely not into self-denial. His son Phillip Baxter had inherited it sometime later and turned it into a nursing home.
As Jennie gathered up her briefcase, she noticed a fit, well-tanned couple in white tennis garb. They were laughing and smiling as they walked toward the clay court just ahead of them. They waved to Jennie as they passed. They looked to be in their middle fifties. Jennie waved back and continued to look.
There was something odd.
Then she looked again and realized what it was. The woman was wearing a bonnet like her grandmother used to wear when she was a girl. Jennie had seen it in photographs Nana showed her, when she would reminisce about her youth. Jennie was surprised that they’d come back in style.
The lady looked like she’d stepped right out of 1900!
Chapter Nine
Paul Grant stared in awe of the huge pipe organ in the basement of Harbor View. If the room itself was magnificent, which it was, with walls of stone ten feet thick and thirty feet high, the organ was unbelievable. It appeared to be built directly into the architecture, with huge pipes soaring toward the ceiling. Paul had never seen anything like it. It was as much a work of art as it was an instrument. One of the residents had told him about it and he had to see for himself.
“That’s amazing.”
Paul wheeled around and immediately felt himself flush. A petite blond woman was standing behind him.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” he said.
The woman smiled. “Hello, I’m Jennie Bradford.”
“I’m sorry. Paul Grant. Do you work here?”
“In a manner of speaking. I’m the state inspector.”
Paul stifled his surprise. He had expected an elderly woman or a librarian type. This girl was anything but. She had an olive complexion with mischievous violet-blue eyes that peered out under brown bangs. She wore a sleeveless shell top, khakis and white Nike running shoes. Her compact physique had a muscular femininity to it. Solid, yet with soft lines. Maybe a runner?
“We’ve been expecting you,” Paul said. “I’m the staff nurse here.”
She frowned. “The staff nurse? You mean, there’s only one?”
Paul nodded. “So far. But believe me, it’s not a problem. Most of these people are healthier than I am.”
“What do you mean--so far?”
“It’s only my second day here, and I haven’t seen another nurse.”
Bradford sat her briefcase down. “That’s unusual.”
Paul shook his head. “From what I’ve seen, this isn’t your usual nursing home.”
Jennie Bradford shrugged. “Well, at least we have something in common. This is my first assignment. Guess we can learn together.”
“How about some coffee?” Paul asked.
“Love some. Lead the way.”
Paul glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll try not to get us lost.”
Jennie Bradford grinned. “That might be fun.”
Chapter Ten
“Margaret, this is Jennie Bradford. She’s the new State Inspector.”
Margaret looked at Paul tentatively, snapped off her bifocals and glared down at Jennie. “What happened to Barbara?”
“She retired,” Jennie said.
“Oh, that’s too bad. No offense to you, of course. It’s just that Barbara and I go back a long way. Her visits here were almost social calls. She knew the place so well. Anyway, it’s good to meet you. Has Paul showed you around?”
Paul shifted his weight. “I thought I’d leave that to you, Margaret. I barely know my own way around.”
Margaret’s face hardened. “You found your way to the organ room, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I had to get directions.”
Margaret exhaled. “I’m sure you did,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Anyway, Miss... Brindle, is it?”
“Bradford. Jennie is fine.”
Margaret looked at her watch. “As I was about to say, Jennie, it’s a little late to start anything today. I take it you’ve found comfortable accommodations in town?”
“I’m staying at the Sable Inn.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking. It’s very cozy. And be sure and try their apple pie. It’s delicious.”
“Thank you, I’ll do that.”
Margaret replaced her glasses. “Well then, how about we meet back here tomorrow at, say, nine o’clock?”
“That’ll be fine,” Jennie said.
Paul was staring a hole in the floor until Margaret snapped him out of it.
“Paul, if I could talk to you just a minute?”
Paul was puzzled. “Right now?”
“Right now would be fine.”
Paul followed Margaret into her office. For the first time, Paul took a close look at Margaret. It was hard to judge her age. Something about it spoke of years, but somehow she looked remarkably fit.
She sat at her desk and looked over the top of her glasses at Paul. An annoying habit he had already noticed.
“I just wanted to tell you,” she said, “We have a couple of residents who like to talk a lot. Particularly Sadie Mills. You need to take her with a grain of salt, as the saying goes. I wouldn’t want to see you get in any kind of trouble because of her.”
“Trouble?”
“For instance, the organ room. As I told you yesterday, certain parts of the facility are off limits, mainly for safety reasons. This building is very old, as you have seen, and it can be dangerous if you don’t know your way around. Lighting is poor, the roof leaks, and it can get very slippery in the basement halls. Mr. Baxter is very adamant about employees staying out of the restricted areas.”
Paul nodded. “Okay, I’ll remember that. Anything else?”
“No, that’s all. Why don’t you call it a day? We have a lot to do tomorrow.”
Paul hurried out of the office and looked out the hall window. He hoped to catch Jennie Bradford before she left. He saw her about to get into her car, so he bolted for the stairs. After bounding down them three at a time, he ran through the exit door, just as Jennie was backing out. He yelled her name as loud as he could. Out of breath, he reached her car just as she put it in drive.
She hit the brake and pulled back into the parking space. She rolled down her window as Paul walked up.
“I’m sorry,” Paul said, trying to catch his breath. “I just wanted to apologize for Margaret. I didn’t know she’d be such a–“