Eye of the Nightingale

by R. D. Hunter

  As for King, he just stood there, taking it all in without a flicker of emotion other than that bone jarring hum I was getting accustomed to. In fact, I could swear I even saw his eyes twinkle with mirth. Whose eyes actually twinkled?

  “Miss Foster, perhaps you’ve misunderstood,” he said calmly. “While I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to continue your clinical here, as your actions with Donald Lawson may unfairly impact your treatment by the other staff, I do have another facility nearby that would be more than happy to take you on.”

  I blinked. “You do?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Are you familiar with Sunny Pines Rest Home?”

  “It’s the one out on Highway 18, isn’t it?”

  “The very same. I think you could benefit from some experience there. I’ll call and set it up. You’ll start tomorrow, if there are no objections.”

  At this, Kay cleared her throat noisily. “With all due respect, Dr. King, our curriculum is set up to accommodate clinical rotations at this hospital only. I’m not sure if what you propose will be possible.”

  The smile on King’s face widened a bit, but it was darker this time. I got a glimpse of the stern businessman underneath. It was like a shark, watching his prey

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  before moving in to take a big bite.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what I can make possible,” he said. “I’ll put in a call to the Dean of education. He and I have a lunch date tomorrow anyway to discuss the new wing I’m sponsoring. I’m sure he’ll put everything in order to your exact specifications.”

  Check and mate. I had the joy of watching Kay pale slightly before nodding her head vigorously in agreement. And so it was settled. I was going to Sunny Pines.

  King looked at me and, once again, the thrumming of his emotions got a little more intense. And, once again, Michael edged a little closer, and got a little more protective. “Thank you again, Miss Foster,” King said. “I look forward to following your career. When you’re ready, I’ll have security walk you to your car.”

  “I’ll be doing that,” Michael said. It was a statement of fact. As sure as stating that water was wet. Anyone else might have been offended, but King merely nodded politely and walked out.

  After fixing me with a vicious glare, Kay did the same. I leaned back on the bed wearily, massaging my temples and the headache that was rapidly growing there. Maybe I needed some more pain medicine.

  “You okay?” Michael asked.

  “I will be.” The moment of silence between us was heavy. “What is it, Michael?

  What’s on your mind?”

  “How did you know there was something on my mind?”

  “Because subtlety isn’t your strong suit. Spill it already.” I knew I was being a little more bitchy than usual, but I was in pain, tired and didn’t have the energy to deal with things with the grace and finesse I normally did.

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  “I think that King fella has designs on you.” That made me blink. Then, and I seriously couldn’t help it, I started laughing. I felt Michael’s anger begin to rise a bit but I was too far gone to care. “I’m serious,” he said, miffed. “Didn’t you see the way he looked at you?”

  It took another few seconds before I finally regained control. Wiping my eyes I said, “Michael, he didn’t look at me any differently than anyone else. Relax.”

  Instead of relaxing, he did exactly the opposite and grew even more irritated.

  “Ava, I know what I’m talking about. You should take this seriously.”

  Now it was my turn to get mad. So I did. “I am taking this seriously,” I snapped.

  “And I seriously think that you’re wrong and it’s none of your damn business even if you’re right. We’re not a couple anymore, Michael.”

  That seemed to hit home. He looked at me carefully before saying, “Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean I don’t care. I never stopped caring, Ava.”

  “Yeah, I can tell,” I snorted. “You’ve been back in town how long now? Six months? Seven? And not one phone call. Not one visit. Not a word from you in all that time.” I jumped to my feet, ignoring the sharp daggers that sliced through my shoulder and into my temple. I shoved my things into my purse and started for the door.

  “Wait,” he called. I kept walking. “I said I’d walk you to your car.”

  I whirled around. “I don’t need you to walk me anywhere,” I snapped. Staff and patients alike were peeking their heads out of rooms to stare. I ignored them. “In case you missed the last half hour, I’m the one who took out Donald Lawson. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can,” my former love said, his frustration settling on my shoulders

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  like a heavy pressure. “I just…I just want you to be careful. Please?”

  He said that last word with such conviction that I felt some of my own anger drain away. I couldn’t talk to him. Not yet. But I nodded and that seemed to satisfy him. With nothing more to say, I turned and left.

  I didn’t have to glance back to see if he was watching me. His gaze was a physical presence until the doors closed behind me.

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  Chapter Four

  Half an hour later I was home, sitting in the floor of my living room and sharing a pint of cookie dough ice cream with my friend and roommate, Jenny Powell. Home was a hundred year old, two story farmhouse that sat on the outskirts of Glen Falls. I’d lived here almost my entire life. It was way too big for the two of us, but it was paid for so there was no mortgage or rent hanging over our heads. We kept the upstairs closed off to save on heating and air. I’d have to get up there someday and do spring cleaning, but the thought made me want to go another round or two with Lawson than face the mess and dust bunnies plotting their assault.

  I’d just finished relaying the day’s events to Jenny and was excavating a stubborn piece of chocolate from the ice cream container while a slasher movie nobody was watching played on the TV.

  “I don’t like it,” she said at last.

  “Which part?”

  “Tall, dark and loaded showing up just in the nick of time to rescue you from ole

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  Battle-axe.”

  I stared. “That’s what you take issue with? Not me getting felt up by Dr.

  Douchebag, clobbered by that wife raping SOB or nearly getting kicked out of the nursing program?” She swiped the container and deftly liberated the piece of chocolate I’d been worrying over. “Hey!”

  “You snoozed. You lost.” She chewed thoughtfully as she considered my words.

  “Yeah, those things suck tiny titties, but at least there was no ulterior motive behind them. You knew what their score was. I’m pretty sure Mr. Moneybags isn’t in the habit of doing something for nothing. You watch yourself around him.”

  “What could I possibly have that he would want?” She flashed me a you can’t possibly be that naïve look.

  I snorted and snatched the ice cream back. “Please. He’s got models and movie stars throwing themselves at his feet. He’s not interested in some small town student nurse with a secret handicap.”

  “Is that what you picked up from him?”

  “No, but I…I just know. All right?” Jenny had been my best friend since third grade and was one of the few people still walking the earth that knew about my secret. It made sharing and talking with her easy, but she was quick to use it against me in a debate to prove her point.

  She shrugged, clearly not convinced. “Fair enough. What about Officer Sexy Pants? Pick up any sinfully lustful vibes from him?” She also had a thing for nicknames.

  I nearly choked on a piece of cookie dough and she took the opportunity to purloin the ice cream again. “Michael? God, no. I mean, we were a thing in high school,

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  but that’s over with. He’s just a friend now.”

 
; Or at least was until I blew my top, I added silently. Now that I’d had a chance to cool down, I regretted that last bit. Maybe I should call and apologize.

  “Any potential benefits with that friendship?” She was messing with me. I didn’t have to be empathic to know that. Jenny wears her heart right out on her sleeve. I decided to take the high road and beat a hasty retreat.

  “I gotta get to bed,” I said, standing up and starting back the hallway towards my bedroom. “Early day tomorrow. Do me a favor and change the channel, would ya? Last time you watched a horror flick, it gave me nightmares. And I didn’t even watch the damn thing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. This thing came out back in the eighties. It’s not even remotely scary.”

  I was halfway to my room before the killer decided to spring out and stab some hapless victim. I heard a little squeal come from the living room and jumped as the bolt of fear lanced through me.

  “Sorry,” my friend called. I shook my head as my heartbeat returned to normal and went to bed.

  The next morning I went for my daily jog, showered and dressed, taking extra care to make sure I looked professional. You only get one chance to make a first impression and I didn’t want to give Kay anymore ammo to possibly kick me out.

  Besides, King had stuck his neck out to give me this chance. I didn’t want to mess it up.

  I left in plenty of time and pulled up to the nursing home a good fifteen minutes before I was scheduled to be there. Sunny Pines was a large, three story building sitting

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  atop a steep hill like a castle from the medieval ages. The winding road leading up to it was adorned on either side by tall pine trees that, while probably majestic in their hay day, were brown and shriveled from neglect. I hoped this didn’t set a tone for the rest of my tenure.

  I pulled my little Honda into the visitor’s lot since I hadn’t been issued an employee pass. Once I stepped out onto the broken and pitted asphalt, I had to grab the door frame to keep my knees from buckling.

  Pain. Loneliness. Despair. The air around Sunny Pines was so laden with these things that they had congealed into a thick miasma that made breathing difficult and swallowing next to impossible. I had to stop myself from gagging twice before the initial shock wore off and I was able to retain some semblance of control.

  Locations, like people, give off a certain empathic residue or signature that’s in line with the emotions generally associated with it. Hospitals, for the most part, are places of healing and recuperation. They have their share of death and loss, of course, but these are heavily outweighed by the joy of people who come there and find relief from their suffering. Sport stadiums always carried an aura of triumph that made my skin tingle, while also being afflicted with the pain of defeat that made my soul ache.

  But this place...this place felt like it was waiting for death’s next visit. And death, it would seem, was running late.

  I took a few deep breaths. Then I took a few more. Gradually, the initial shock wore off and I was able to stand up straight and tall like my Daddy showed me.

  I could do this. I knew I could. And maybe, just maybe, by the time I left some of this gloom and doom would leave with me. Looking up at the foreboding structure, I

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  wasn’t hopeful.

  The outside looked like it hadn’t seen proper maintenance since Disco had gone out of style. Vines crept up the side of the building and every rock was covered with moss. Nature was slowly reclaiming this place, and whoever was in charge of beating it back had apparently thrown in the towel.

  The whole thing had a neglected look that did nothing to improve the vibe of place. I pushed it down and went in through the dingy front doors.

  If I’d expected the inside to be any better than the outside, I was sorely disappointed. Rows of orange bucket seats from the seventies lined either wall in an antiquated lobby. Many of them were cracked and sported cigarette burns and I wouldn’t have trusted at least two of them to support my 120 lbs. An archaic television sat mutely in the corner, displaying more static and fuzz than the daily soaps they were tuned to. A loudspeaker blared a continuous stream of elevator music that I think was meant to be calming but merely succeeded in being annoying. The whole thing had a dingy, unwashed feel to it and I immediately wanted to go home, strip out of my clothes and burn them.

  I was well and truly shocked by this point. King Healthcare had always maintained a reputation for clean, efficient medical treatment. Sebastian King himself took a personal interest in any facility that failed to live up to his expectations. How had things gotten so bad here without him noticing?

  Maybe he had noticed. Maybe he just didn’t care. Maybe this was his version of punishment for what I’d done in his emergency room. Send the ignorant little student to this arm pit of a nursing home and watch her fail.

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  The thought steeled my resolve and I continued on through the double doors, since no one was manning the front desk.

  I found myself in a large open area that appeared to be some kind of dayroom.

  Several residents were sitting, standing or shuffling about. Before I got a chance to really take in the scene, an official looking woman, somewhere in her mid-forties, stalked up to me with a perpetually sour look on her face. She stood there with her hands on her hips, obviously waiting for an explanation, and looked me up and down with clear disdain.

  I returned the favor. After studying under Kay Harris for the past three years, I was pretty accustomed to dealing with people who thought leading by intimidation was the way to go.

  “You’re late,” the sourpuss said without preamble. “We expect all our staff to be here fifteen minutes before the start of their shift.” I looked at the oversized clock on the wall. It read ten minutes till the hour. “If it happens again I’ll be forced to contact your instructor with an official reprimand.”

  “She’d be delighted,” I said dryly. Her eyes narrowed and I felt a blast of resentment from her. She wasn’t used to someone treating her with anything other than absolute respect and reverence. I was pretty sure we weren’t going to get along.

  “Poor attitudes won’t be tolerated either. This is a professional facility dedicated to the care and well-being of our residents. My name is Mrs. Thornbirch. I’m the head nurse at Sunny Pines. Your academic career is now in my hands. You’d do well to remember it.”

  I bit off a sharp reply and nodded. No reason to add fuel to a hateful fire.

  She motioned to a younger woman helping spoon feed one of the residents who

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  hurried over like it was a summons from the Pope. “This is Nancy Hartwell. She’ll be directly overseeing your training and reporting back to me.”

  Warm relief flooded over me. Nancy had a bright glow to her and the smile on her face was genuine.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said.

  “Likewise.” We shook hands and the positive vibe I’d picked up from her intensified.

  “You’ll do everything Nurse Hartwell says without question or delay,”

  Thornbirch said. “We are not a teaching facility, Miss Foster. We are ill equipped to deal with a student’s demands. Learn by doing and observing.”

  “Doing and observing,” I repeated with a nod. Her eyes narrowed into daggers and I felt her trying to decide whether I was being smart again. Well, let her. I’d had just about enough of this woman. I smiled sweetly, in an innocent little girl who just wants to please kind of way.

  Thornbirch snorted and turned to walk away. “One more thing,” she said. “You’re clinicals will take place entirely on the first floor of Sunny Pines. The second floor is where our incontinent residents are housed and their care and upkeep are outside your level of skill or experience. The third floor is devoted to administration duties. If you have any issues that need to be addressed, they are to go through me. Do I make myself clear?�
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  So, stay on the first floor. This was unexpected. I thought that by coming to Sunny Pines I’d get the full experience of what it was like to work with senior citizens.

  But apparently I was only going to be dealing with those residents mentally and

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  physically capable of pretty much looking after themselves. I’d be helping them eat, drink and occasionally dole out medications. But any serious health problems were kept out of my reach. I’d be bored out of my head by lunch time.

  Still, I sensed this was not an issue that was open for discussion, so I just nodded and watched as the bitter woman snorted once again and walked away. Thank God.

  “Don’t mind her,” Nancy said once she’d gone. “Trisha Thornbirch was born with a sour disposition and two ex-husbands. Six years at Sunny Pines haven’t made it any sweeter.”

  I laughed with relief. “I believe you.”

  “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

  The tour was remarkably short since we were confined to the first floor. The majority of space was taken up by the large dayroom that housed two large televisions.

  Numerous ratty looking armchairs, sofas and recliners were scattered about. A few card tables were set up and there were stacks of board games in the corner that were so ancient they would be considered archeological treasures.

  I must not have hid my dismay well because Nancy said, “It’s not much. But we do the best we can.” I sensed a note of apology in her and felt bad.

  “It’s fine. Really,” I said, not wanting to seem like an uppity snob. “I’m just not used to working in a place like this.”

  She grinned and I could tell there were no hard feelings. “Don’t worry. It’ll grow on you. Most of the staff are good people and the residents are the salt of the earth. Let me show you the rest.”

  She led me through the double doors and into the back. To the right was another