In general, Mondays at Sweet Life could be difficult as residents needed to recover from the weekend’s visitors or lack of them. Dot was up and dressed, sitting at a small table with two chairs. In her elderly throaty voice, she repetitiously sang “Little lamb, little lamb, little lamb.” Next to her, the bird’s cage remained covered.
Spying a new coloring page attached to Dot’s magnetic calendar—which reminded her which day they took her laundry and which days they helped her shower—Carly asked, “Did your grandchildren visit?”
“‘Little lamb.’ They sure like Birdie, but it’s almost too much for him the way they poke their little fingers into its cage. The little lamb will probably sleep all day.”
“Shall we remove its cover and see?”
“Yes, let’s give Birdie a choice.”
The comment reminded Carly everyone needed to maintain a sense of dignity, even when they needed others to care for them. As Carly removed the cover, Birdie chirped gratefully. Shredded candy wrappers covered the floor of the birdcage, and she figured Dot was right about the grandkids. Next she unlocked the medicine drawer and got the meds and water ready. “You’re up early.” She waited for Dot to take the meds.
“Really? I was afraid I missed breakfast.”
“Why don’t you take these pills? It’s still a little early for breakfast.”
Dot gulped the water and coughed. “Yuck, one melted in my mouth.”
“Let me see.”
Dot opened her mouth wide.
“Lift your tongue. I think you got it all. Drink some more water.”
“Just a little. I’m full from breakfast.”
When Dot started cooing at Birdie, Carly slipped out of the room. After she finished her rounds, having helped several residents dress, she moved to the receptionist’s desk to update their files.
Sherie popped her head out of the staff room. “See me when you get a moment?”
“How about now?” Carly followed her in and took a seat beside the mini fridge.
“Did you see the roof?” Sherie asked.
“No. What happened?”
“Wind blew off some tile. Simon’s in a snit.”
“They should replace the whole thing,” Carly remarked.
“If the money was there, I’m sure the roof would get replaced. For now, it’s getting repaired. How did your rounds go?” When it came to Simon, Sherie always played the middle road.
“A little slow. Repeater was missing the new puzzle his daughter brought him on Sunday. I found it under Klepto’s bedcovers. She clawed me good.” Carly displayed her forearm.
Sherie gasped. “Be sure it’s noted in the files and better have the nurse look at it.”
“It’s fine. Anyway, I took her one of the house puzzles, but she wasn’t satisfied. She wanted the new one. I’m going to bring one in for her. It’ll keep her in her room for a while.”
“Good idea. If she likes doing them and it keeps her from roaming in and out of everyone’s rooms, I’ll personally see that we keep her well supplied.” Sherie stretched out her slack-clad legs and crossed her arms. “You like making phone calls, Carly? I mean I’ve seen you carry a cell phone, and you handle yourself nicely when you answer the center’s line.”
She felt irritated at her supervisor’s patronizing manner. “I don’t use it much. The church doesn’t exactly endorse it. It’s one of those gray areas. But living alone, it comes in handy.”
“This would be strictly business. I could use your help making some cold calls for volunteers. I’d write the script for you.”
It hadn’t occurred to Carly to make cold calls. She’d envisioned riding her bike to call on people from her church, talking face to face and putting up posters. Not reading somebody else’s script. “Would there be a lot of calls?”
“Yes. And it would be after hours, of course.”
“H-mm. I have another project going. I’ll have to think about it.”
Sherie’s lips parted in surprise. “This volunteer program was your idea. I thought you’d be all over this.”
Carly stared at the carpet as bitterness welled up in her heart. The Lord’s admonition to forgive came to mind. Could she help with a tweaked plan, confined to a script? Would it be easier to forgive Simon and Sherie if she stayed away from the program altogether or joined in to assist them? Lord, help me here.
“I’m sorry. That was out of line. Go ahead and think about it. But please, don’t take too long.”
Standing, Carly met Sherie’s eyes. “Okay, thanks. Anything else?”
“No.”
Eager to be out of the room, Carly almost ran into the resident nurse, Linda Lehman. “Oh, sorry.”
“No it was my fault.”
“Is somebody ill?” Carly asked. “Yes, Miranda’s cleaning up a mess in Kenneth’s room.” Kenneth was the resident they referred to as the General. An ex-air force pilot, he had also worked for Intelligence. “He has a fever. We’ll have to keep him secluded. I gave instructions to Miranda and will check back on him.”
Poor woman, forever bustling here and there, needed everywhere. She thought about showing her the scratches on her arm but, noticing the dark circles under Linda’s eyes, thought better of it.
Next the caregivers rounded up the residents for breakfast, and Carly paused at Martha’s chair. “You want to read the paper together later?”
“Not today, dearie,” she wheezed. “I think I’m allergic to Dot’s bird.”
Dot gasped. “That’s absurd. I’m clear across the hall.”
Martha’s voice wobbled, “I’m not blaming you. Just not feeling good.”
Dot got up from her chair. “I’ll take breakfast in my room.” She stormed away.
Carly slid into the empty chair and patted Martha’s hand. “It’s been so windy. Must be pollen got inside.”
“I’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”
“Music!” Repeater shouted. “We need music.”
Carly smiled. “I believe you’re right. Put on something cheery, Miranda.”
On Thursday after working her shift, Carly felt unusually weary and cold and was looking forward to turning in early and snuggling beneath her mother’s yummy yellow quilt. It was leftovers night, so dinner would be easy. Then a nice bubble bath and an evening with Cocoa and a book.
First, however, she needed to check out her arm, which had gotten some red streaks. She popped her head inside the nurse’s office, pleased to see Linda sitting at the computer, looking somewhat composed. When she looked up, her eyes widened. “Everything all right?”
“With the residents. I’ve got a couple scratches I want you to see.”
“Sure. Sit down.”
Carly pushed up her sleeve to reveal the red, swollen marks.
Linda instantly went to work, cleansing with an antiseptic wipe that burned. “It’s good you came. Those are infected.”
“Sherie warned me to come in when it happened.”
After taking Carly’s temperature, Linda asked, “When was that?”
Carly thought a moment. “Three days ago.”
“Yes, next time don’t wait so long. You’ve got a slight fever. Use this ointment on it, and I’ll get Dr. Rink to send an antibiotic to your pharmacy.”
“Thanks.” Carly eyed Linda’s tropical calendar. “Ever been to any of those places?”
“No. But as soon as I retire—in exactly 751 days—hubby and I are traveling. It’s what keeps me going.”
“Sherie’s working on a volunteer program. Could you use that kind of help?”
Linda’s eyes brightened. “You bet I could. Where do I sign up?”
Chuckling, Carly said, “Just ask her about it. Maybe she can do something for you.”
“Are you going back to assisted living?”
“I can. What do you need?”
Linda smiled with relief. “Can you get this inhaler to Martha? She might need it tonight.”
Nodding, Carly agreed. Her arm stung
, and she felt even wearier as she returned to the assisted-living building.
Miranda, who had an occasional night shift, looked up with surprise. “Forget something?”
“Linda asked me to give this inhaler to Martha.”
“I was about to check on her. She just darted through the hall looking disturbed. Let me know what’s going on before you leave.”
“Sure.”
As Carly stepped into the hall, Martha burst out of her room. “Carly! Where’s Dot?”
“I don’t know. What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find her.”
“I’ll help you look.”
Together, they checked Dot’s room. She wasn’t there. Next they tried the kitchen since she always thought it was meal time. Martha’s breaths came too rapidly from the exertion, and Carly had her wait in the lobby while she alerted Miranda. Sherie covered the floor while the caregivers checked the library and returned to Dot’s room again. They even looked under the bed. They searched every room in assisted living. Dot was nowhere to be found.
Sherie alerted security and Simon. The alarm was carried to all the parts of the retirement center.
Growing worried, Carly thought Crusher should be notified. Dot could have left the building and gone to his apartment. With the night staff in place, Sherie released her to pursue that avenue of the search.
Grateful, she shrugged into her coat, pausing to give Martha a few comforting words.
“It’s all my fault,” Martha moaned. “I drove her away.”
“That’s not true. You’re her best friend.”
“Not lately.”
“Please try to relax so your asthma doesn’t flare up.”
Miranda joined them and put her hand on Martha’s shoulder. Carly eased away as Miranda spoke soothing words to Martha.
Shivering, Carly stopped by the woodworking shop first and was relieved to find Crusher there working on a project. Alarmed by the news, he grabbed his hat and fled toward assisted living as fast as his eighty-year-old legs could take him.
Carly and Adam sped after him.
“I’ve got to find her,” he panted. “She counts on me for everything since—”
“I know,” Carly puffed, while tugging his shirt sleeve. “Please stop.”
Crusher halted, looking frantic and old.
“You must go home,” Carly reasoned. “If Dot’s outside the building, she’ll go home. Stay there, and we’ll search. The police are on their way.”
Adam volunteered to walk Crusher home and close up the shop before he helped search.
Nodding, Carly ran to the assisted-living entryway. She hesitated. If Dot was visiting Magnificent by the door and someone happened in, she might have slipped out while the door was open. Though the entire center was on alert, it wouldn’t hurt to check out the exterior grounds.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Carly searched, working her way to the front of Sweet Life Retirement Center. Though her heart was pumping with fright, the grounds seemed quiet and deserted, situated in a picturesque setting of aged, droopy-limbed evergreen and mature vegetation. She hurried down the sidewalk that edged the parking lot, past the visitors’ benches, and halted at the twenty-foot, twin evergreens shaped like giant Hershey’s Kisses. Which way?
To the east was independent housing and the community garden, quaint with birdhouses and picket fence. Not a creature stirred within her sight. Just to the right of the garden, a wide path beckoned. It led through wild vegetation and dark canopied trees to a steeply embanked river. On either side of its clover-trodden path, blackberry, old-man’s beard, fern, and grass tangled menacingly up to seven feet in height. Enough to swallow Dot. Carly could hear the rushing river beyond. Her heart pounded. Deadly.
Staring at the redbrick independent-living homes, she reasoned surely Dot would be afraid to take that path.
Heading west, she hurried into the nearest neighborhood of cute, prim, cookie-cutter track homes. She made a quick loop through the neighborhood and arrived back at the main entrance without a single sign of Dot. At a sudden blast of a car’s horn, Carly shrank back and clutched her bodice. She felt a vice grip on her left arm as Adam drew her back to the safe confines of the sidewalk.
“Did you find her?” she gasped.
He shook his head. “No. You all right?”
She shrugged away and blinked at the leaf-littered gutter, allowing her sudden fright to subside before she spoke, “I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. She was shaking, and despair had clouded her thinking so that she’d stepped off a residential curb, oblivious to oncoming traffic.
“It’s getting dark, Carly.” At his husky reminder, she realized it was a miracle the driver of the automobile had even seen her.
Hopelessly, she considered their surroundings as she tried to gather her thoughts. Newly planted angels of conifer and maple spread sheltering wings over middle-income lawns. Shadows replaced the chrysanthemum and asters’ colorful splash against driveways teeming with economy cars. All around them, people were returning to the haven of family and loved ones—except for Dot. Where could she be?
She buttoned her black wool coat in an effort to ward off the dropping temperature. Had Martha’s changing behavior provoked Dot’s disappearance? “If only I can remember something to help us see the situation through Dot’s eyes, then we might know where to search.”
“She could be a thousand miles from Sweet Home.”
Considering the city limits of their small Oregon town, Carly frowned up at her friend. “You think someone abducted her?”
He shrugged shoulders sculpted deep and broad from manual labor. “Dot could be miles from reality. Nobody understands dementia.” Belying his bleak statement, his quirked brows gave evidence he was trying to puzzle it out, too.
A squirrel skittered up a tree, and a street light blinked on. There was no stopping the encumbrance of nightfall once the sun dropped behind the hills. “I can’t bear the thought of Dot spending the night outside, cold and alone. I didn’t want to think about the river, but what if she went that way?”
Adam touched her shoulder, and she longed to curl into the comfort of his arms and draw from his strength. He whispered, “Then we’ll find her.”
Carly straightened her shoulders. “We must.” She glanced in both directions and started across the street, back toward the river.
Adam fell into step beside her. “But I can’t concentrate, worrying about—”
Her temper flared for no reason and she lashed out in confusion. “What? One car honks their horn and now I’m a worry?”
“No,” he said. “Crusher’s frantic. If you’re not going home, stay with him or at least go back to the center and help field calls. Talk to the police. The other residents need you now, more than ever.”
Of course she wouldn’t go home. Her heart sank just to think how the appearance of a police officer would alarm the elderly residents. Crusher’s tender expression flashed into her mind. Even with the test of living in separate quarters, his love for Dot endured.
Every day, he walked from his independent-living facility on the edge of the retirement community to the assisted-living building to bring his wife fresh-squeezed orange juice because he’d heard it helped with dementia. And he’d gotten her the canary. She blinked back threatening tears. Crusher wasn’t the only resident who would be devastated. Poor Martha.
Adam was right. By now the staff would have notified all the proper authorities. Dealing with calls and police officers would make them shorthanded. The evening shift was busy with visitors, medications to administer, and residents to assist with bed preparations. She understood how a single event could send a virus of confusion throughout the elderly group. Reaching the other side of the street, she fought against the pressure mounting at the sides of her temples.
With a nod that caused a curl to slip from her bonnet, she turned abruptly to face him. His shoulders were rigid, and concern shone in his soft brown gaze. “I’ll go back.” Still she
protested, “But what if she went down to the river? Those cliffs.”
“I’ll fetch a flashlight. Volunteers from church are probably already assembling. We’ll get organized and search the woods and the river. But it’s not the place for you. You’d be snagged and pinned to a blackberry bush within minutes.”
“Oh.”
Adam sympathized at Carly’s wavering, “Oh.” It wasn’t often that anyone rendered her hesitant, much less speechless. Her blue eyes swam in pain, and some of her blond curls had escaped her covering.
As they returned to the center, his gaze darted everywhere, hoping to spot the tiny missing woman. Crusher always teased, “Temper and all, Dot weighs in under a hundred pounds.” Adam figured a puff of wind could have lifted her out of Linn County and carried her across the Pacific Ocean and Asia, back to the land of their Swiss German ancestors by now.
Uncle Si wouldn’t be happy about the missing person incident. He expected things at Sweet Life to flow orderly and efficiently, like everything else within his touch.
His mind ran along a well-oiled track. Dad and Uncle Si were reincarnations of the biblical Jacob and Esau. Only difference was they were identical twins. Uncle Si was Esau because he’d married outside the Conservative Mennonite Church and soon quit worshipping there.
Carly brushed past him to punch a code into the pad that opened the center’s glass doors. He followed her in. But when she made an uncustomary pause, he plowed over her foot.
“Ouch!” She shot him a dark look and proceeded into the fray before he could apologize. She headed straight to Crusher, who apparently hadn’t stayed put at home. He sat slumped at a table that displayed a partly assembled jigsaw puzzle of an old covered bridge. He looked up expectantly.
Covered Bridge Charm Page 11