Tranquility

by Laurie Gardiner

  Mrs. Curtis and Mrs. Faulkner, a good friend of Mom’s, came over with enough food to last the rest of the week. It was a gesture I was thankful for simply because it meant one less thing to worry about.

  I took Kayla to school Monday morning and did some laundry and cleaning before I went to the hospital. After Mom left to get some lunch and have a break, I looked at Gran’s chart. Patient unresponsive and unable to swallow. Has shown no signs of recovery. I stared at her over the top of the clipboard. She was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV for fluids and was receiving nutrition from a feeding tube.

  “Damn it, Gran,” I said, slamming the clipboard back into place at the end of the bed. “You can’t leave us. We need you. I need you.”

  I turned her on her side and checked her skin carefully for any signs of redness. The nurse who came in while I was doing this gave me a strange look, but I knew they were often so busy that basic care was overlooked. My concern was for Gran, not for what the staff thought.

  Dr. Chang came in and spoke to me briefly about Gran’s condition. He was concerned with her lack of progress. “Because she had the stroke while she was sleeping, there was no way to know how long it had been since it happened. There’s only a small window of time when the clot-dissolving drugs are most effective. I’m afraid we may have missed it.”

  After Dr. Chang left, I sat in the chair beside Gran’s bed and took her hand in mine. It was wrinkled and splotched with unsightly, brown age spots, the skin so paper-thin it was almost translucent. It seemed as though she’d aged overnight. I stroked her hand lightly with my thumb, letting her to know I was there with her.

  It shouldn’t be this hard, I thought. In palliative care, I’d held hands and spoken endless words of comfort, listened to deathbed confessions and offered up words of forgiveness that weren’t mine to give. I watched people lying helpless in their own waste, a single tube to their stomach the only thing keeping them alive, prolonging their misery. I listened to their moans of pain as they struggled to breathe, as they waited to die.

  This was different. This was my grandmother struggling to breathe. Waiting to die.

  My head dropped forward and I rested my cheek against her hand. “Please don’t leave me, Gran,” I whispered as tears slid down my face.

  * * *

  I went back to work on Tuesday. Kayla was in school and Mom had taken a leave of absence from work. There was no need for both of us to be at the hospital all day. I would relieve Mom for a couple hours in the evenings, after I’d spent some time with Kayla.

  The hardest part of going back to work was answering all the questions. They were well intentioned, but all I wanted to do was put my head down, do my work and not think about Gran for a while.

  The expressions of sympathy were even worse. They brought all the emotions I’d worked so hard to push down deep, rising back to the surface. By mid-morning, one concerned look from Tracey was all it took to send me running to the bathroom. The pitying smiles tapered off as the day went on and I managed to get my emotions under control.

  I went out for coffee with Tracey Wednesday after work. I only had an hour until I had to pick Kayla up from school, but I knew Tracey was worried about me and I needed to talk to someone.

  “Hey,” Tracey said when I sat down. “Feels like spring today.”

  It was almost spring, I realized. I glanced out the window. In typical Canadian fashion, the weather had gone from winter to spring-like in a day. It was a beautiful sunny day, warm enough for a light jacket. The dirty, grey snow banks were finally melting away. I hadn’t even noticed until now.

  “You doing okay?” Tracey asked.

  “Yeah, I’m hanging in there. I’m tired. I’m worried about Gran… and Mom too.”

  “She’s taking it hard?”

  “Really hard. She barely eats. I know she doesn’t sleep much. She’d be there twenty-four-seven if she could.”

  “She’ll be okay. She’s lucky she has you to help her through it.”

  “I know, but she doesn’t deal well with illness or death. She’s never gotten over my dad. She still wears her wedding ring and it’s been ten years.”

  “Wow, she’s never dated anyone since?”

  “No, she says no one could ever measure up to him.”

  “She doesn’t have to marry them. She’s young enough. I’m sure she still has needs. She could just—”

  I cut her off quickly. “Please don’t go there. She’s my mom, remember?”

  She shrugged. “Just sayin’. Hey, you talk to Jay this week?”

  “No, I’ve barely had time to think about him. Why?”

  “I find that hard to believe. He was asking about you when he brought Georgia back on Sunday. Probably thought you’d be working and he’d get to see you.”

  “I really have had too much on my mind to think about him. And I don’t have his number anyway.”

  “S’ok, I talked to him Sunday and told him what happened. Anyway, he has your number, probably just doesn’t wanna bother you right now.”

  “He doesn’t have my number. I never gave it to him.”

  “Yeah, he does. I texted it to him.”

  “You texted it to him? So, you two text each other now?”

  “Don’t worry,” Tracey said with a wink. “He’s nice-looking, but not my type—too skinny. Paramedics are more my type. For now.”

  Chapter 16 - No Proof, No Justice

  IT WAS FRIDAY. SOMEHOW, I’D made it through the week.

  I went into the dining room at lunchtime, pushing Mrs. W in her wheelchair ahead of me. Rose had gotten in the habit lately of sitting at Edie’s table, so I’d started bringing Mrs. W to my table when I could get to her before Sheila did.

  Tracey had warned me not to do it. “You’re just asking for trouble,” she’d said. But we weren’t assigned certain residents in the dining room, we helped out wherever needed. Also, I think some twisted part of me was looking for trouble with Sheila. I wanted her to get angry enough to do something stupid.

  It was a challenge feeding Mrs. W and keeping the others focused on their meals, and that was exactly what I needed to keep my mind off Gran.

  Sheila still sat at her old table, but without Mrs. W to vent her frustrations on, she was much quieter. The first day I’d wheeled Mrs. W to my table, Sheila had glared at me. Now, she simply ignored me as she did Edie.

  This was not for lack of trying on Edie’s part. She’d been doing her best to get on Sheila’s bad side since the day she and Georgia had called Sheila out for her treatment of Mrs. W. I’d finally caught on to what she was doing and asked her about it one day.

  “Well, my dear, I’ve an idea that if I annoy her enough, she’ll eventually do something wrong.” She leaned in close and whispered, “I’ve been acting forgetful around her too, so she thinks I’ve got the disease like the rest of ‘em.”

  Even though I’d been doing the same thing, her confession concerned me and I’d told her so. “Oh, Edie, you’re playing with fire. What if it works and she loses it when no one’s around to help you?”

  “Pfft, she doesn’t scare me. I’ve lived with Anne, don’t forget.”

  But all Edie’s attempts at being annoying seemed to fall on deaf ears. Whatever Abby had said to Sheila that day must have worked enough for her to keep her mouth shut so long. Despite her silence, I could still see the anger and frustration simmering beneath her deceivingly composed exterior and had to wonder who she was taking her frustrations out on.

  I got Mrs. W settled at the table, picked up her apron and placed it around her neck. When I lifted her hair to do up the snap, a strange red mark caught my eye. I pulled the apron back and looked more closely. There were faint red marks, like fingerprints, on either side of the base of her neck near the tops of her shoulders.

  My eyes went automatically to Sheila. She was watching me. She looked away quickly and proceeded to cut Mr. Roberts’ lasagna into pieces, even though he was capable of using a knife and fork. I fast
ened Mrs. W’s apron and sat down to feed her. I didn’t look at Sheila again, but I felt her eyes on me throughout lunch. I was sure the strange little marks were bruises left by fingers digging in to the flesh. And, even though I couldn’t prove it, I strongly suspected those fingers belonged to Sheila.

  I helped my residents get settled after lunch and went to find Abby. She was in the main hall near the nurse’s station, giving Mrs. Amaral her insulin injection. I waited until she’d disposed of the needle and stripped off her gloves before I approached. “Abby, if you have a minute, I’d like you to look at some marks I found on Mrs. W’s neck.”

  “What kind of marks?”

  “I’m not sure. They looked strange to me and I thought you should see them.” I wanted to see her reaction without my own suspicions influencing what she thought.

  We walked into Mrs. W’s room a few minutes later. Carol hadn’t put her in bed for her nap yet. She was sitting in her wheelchair, looking out the window into the courtyard where chickadees flitted in and out of one of the many bird feeders strategically placed outside the windows.

  I said her name, speaking softly to avoid startling her, and crouched down so we were eye level. “The nurse is here. She wants to take a look at some marks on your neck, okay?”

  She grunted.

  I stood, walked to the back of her chair and lifted the hair off her neck.

  Abby leaned in for a closer look. When she straightened and looked at me her expression was hard. “When did you find these marks?”

  “Today, just before lunch, when I lifted her hair to do up her apron.”

  “And what was your first thought?”

  “That they were bruises.”

  “Caused by?”

  I hesitated. “Fingers. They look to me like bruises left by fingers.”

  Carol walked in and stopped short when she saw us. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Abby motioned her over and showed her the marks. Carol peered at them. She put her fingers out and touched the bruises gently. “These weren’t here yesterday. I would’ve noticed them when I brushed her hair.”

  “What about this morning?” Abby asked.

  Carol shook her head. “She had a bath this morning. Sheila—” She stopped and a look of realization spread slowly over her face.

  The three of us stood looking at one another in uncertain silence. I watched the expression on Carol’s face change from outrage, to disbelief, to guilt, and knew she was already doubting her instincts and feeling bad for blaming Sheila.

  It was time to say what everyone else was afraid to. “Abby, Sheila is—”

  Abby put her hand up to stop me. “No, we’re not naming any names or placing any blame. There’s no proof of anything.” She lowered her voice and gestured toward Mrs. W. “You’ve seen how aggravated people get when she screams and kicks and chases after them with her chair. It could have been anyone.”

  “But—”

  “Sarah! I don’t want to hear another word. Do you understand?”

  It wasn’t easy, but I shut my mouth. I knew how things worked and I needed to keep my job until school started.

  “I’ll take care of documenting this,” Abby said before she left the room.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding, unclenched my fists and looked at Carol accusingly. “You were thinking it too.”

  She shrugged. “She’s right. There’s no proof. What do you expect her to do?”

  I was still seething with anger when I went to the nurse’s station to do my paperwork. I purposely went early to avoid seeing anyone. Despite Abby insisting she would document the incident, I included it in my notes.

  Before I left I did my rounds, going into Edie’s room last. Mrs. Sellers was in bed, napping. Edie sat in her chair by the window, knitting.

  “Off for the day are you?” she asked in a low voice.

  I nodded hesitantly.

  She dropped her knitting to her lap and looked at me more closely. “What’s troubling you, lass?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about, Edie. Just…work stuff.” I crossed the room and leaned a hip against her bed.

  “Is it the Dragon?”

  “I can’t talk about it here.” I quickly changed the subject. “Did Abby talk to you this week?”

  “About what, dear?”

  “About setting up a meeting to discuss your situation. She told me she would talk to you this week.”

  “She didn’t. But don’t you worry yourself about it. It’ll work itself out in time.”

  “But, Edie, you—”

  “No, Sarah.” She reached for my hand. “You’ve enough of your own troubles right now. You need to take care of your family and stop worrying about me. Besides, I’ve things to do before I leave this place.”

  I wasn’t sure what Edie had meant by “things to do” and she’d refused to go into it further when I asked. I mulled it over on my way across the parking lot. I pulled my keys out of my coat pocket and was about to unlock my car, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  I swallowed a startled cry, swung around quickly, and then let out a sigh of relief when I saw Jay.

  “Sorry. I called you as I was walking over, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  “No, I didn’t. I was thinking about something. Are you here to see Georgia?”

  “Actually, I had the day off today so I decided I’d pick her up early and take her to my Dad’s for the weekend. I was hoping I’d catch you before you left. Tracey told me what happened to your grandmother. How’re you doing?”

  I shrugged. “I’m okay. It’s been hard.”

  “Any change?”

  “No, not really. It’s a waiting game now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Listen, I know you’re busy dealing with everything right now. I just wanted to tell you, I had a good time last Friday. Maybe, when things settle down, call me and we can have dinner?”

  I smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. I’ll text you my number. Tracey gave me yours. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to text you until I was sure you were okay with it.”

  I thought of my conversation with Tracey and laughed. “No, it’s fine. She told me she gave it to you.”

  I went home, had a quick shower and put on jeans and a t-shirt. I still had some time to kill before I went to get Kayla from school, so I phoned Tracey. I told her about Jay and laughed as she gloated good naturedly about how right she’d been. The conversation took on a more serious tone when I told her about the marks I’d found on Mrs. W.

  “So, Abby’s just gonna to do nothing?” she said. “It’s ridiculous how they all protect each other. Why? Because she’s been working there for thirty years?”

  “Abby says there’s no proof. And she’s right. Mrs. W won’t remember what happened, and even if she did, she can’t put two words together well enough to tell anyone.”

  Tracey’s voice rose in anger. “She should have been fired after what happened in the dining room that day. Even the other residents knew it was wrong. And she’s alone with them every day in that room. Who the hell knows what she’s doing in there?”

  “I agree. Completely. I just don’t know what to do about it. If we go over Abby’s head, it’s our word against theirs and, let’s face it, we haven’t been here long enough for our word to carry much weight. We could lose our jobs.”

  I hung up the phone, grabbed a jacket, and walked the few blocks to the school feeling a little lighter. I’m not sure why. Nothing had changed. Gran was still sick, and even after talking to Tracey, I still had no idea what to do about Sheila. But I had Tracey on my side, a date with Jay to look forward to, and the warm sunshine on my face.

  A few brave crocuses poked through the soil in the garden in front of the school. Another sure sign of spring. The bell rang and a swarm of small bodies came flooding out of the doors. I spotted Kayla right away in the bright pink jacket my mother had insisted on buying. Kayla’s face lit up when she saw me. She sp
rinted toward me yelling “Mommy” and flew into my arms. Despite my problems, life was pretty damn good.

  Chapter 17 - In a Fit of Rage

  SATURDAY MORNING AFTER BREAKFAST, I helped Lily and Beth prepare for an outing. It was their sixtieth birthdays and their aunt Helen was coming to take them out for the day. It was a rare event. Helen was well into her eighties and not in the best of health. She and her daughter, Cheryl, lived in a small town about an hour away and weren’t often able to visit.

  The twins were in their room, putting on makeup and doing their hair. They were excited at the prospect of going out. I listened to them chatter and bicker excitedly as I packed a small bag with some of the things they would need.

  “Why does Cheryl have to come?” Beth asked. “She’s always mean to us.”

  “Only to you. She likes me.”

  “No, Aunt Helen likes me better.”

  “Does not. I want the red lipstick, Beth. We can’t both wear the same color.”

  They argued over the lipstick until Beth gave in and agreed to use a different shade. I imagined she had spent her whole life giving in to Lily.

  “Okay, ladies,” I said, opening the wardrobe, “time to put on your coats and boots.”

  Beth looked at me blankly. “Why, where are we going?”

  “It’s your birthdays. Your Aunt Helen and your cousin, Cheryl, are coming to take you out.”

  They clapped their hands in excitement as though hearing it for the first time.

  Ten minutes later, we walked into the main hall. Helen and Cheryl were at the nurse’s station, signing the twins out.

  “There they are,” I said.

  “Who?” Beth asked.

  Lily sighed impatiently. “Aunt Helen and Cheryl,” she said as they turned to greet us.

  Beth looked from her aunt to her cousin in confusion. “But you’re so old!” she blurted.

  Helen laughed as she stepped forward for a hug. “Oh dear, Beth, you are so much like your mother. I’ve been old for many years. Have I really changed so much?”

  I punched in the code and said goodbye as I held the door open for them. Sam, who’d been lurking near the aquarium, darted in behind the women and tried to sneak out with them.