by R. D. Hunter
“You unplugged it on purpose,” I said in a low tone. “Mr. Burleson was confused.
Upset by the loss of his Sophie. Probably loud and belligerent. So instead of dealing with it and treating him as a human being in pain, you disconnected his only means of contacting help and left him to stew in his own waste. What kind of nurse are you? What kind of person?”
Hunter / Nightingale / 48
Shock replaced everything else in Mrs. Thornbirch. She wasn’t used to having anyone call her on her transgressions, let alone a mere student. All too quickly, though, she recovered and stepped close enough I could feel the chill of her words in the air.
“I’ll tell you what kind of person I am. I’m the kind of person who can get you booted out on your ass with one phone call. When I report to the director that you’ve been practicing outside your scope again, not even the great Sebastian King will be able to save your career.” I must have had a shocked expression, because the corners of her mouth turned up in a little smirk.
“That’s right. I know all about the little stunt you pulled in that emergency room and why you weren’t allowed to finish your clinicals there. I did a little checking up on you when I saw what kind of attitude you possessed.”
“If you checked up on me, then you know it’s not a good idea to get between me and my patient,” I said. The smirk disappeared and was replaced with a combination of shock and a little apprehension. I used it as fuel to keep going. “The last person who tried it ended up with a concussion and facing a lengthy prison sentence. So, if I were you, I’d get out of my way while I treat this poor man that you neglected with such enthusiastic disdain.”
We stood almost nose to nose, a stalemate in every sense of the word. Finally, Mr.
Burleson began lamenting the loss of his dear Sophie in a stronger tone and I decided I’d had enough of the embittered woman in front of me. She’d taken up enough of my time. I had no doubt she fully intended to do what she threatened, but right now that was on the back burner.
I turned my back on her and began the arduous task of cleaning up my new
Hunter / Nightingale / 49
patient. His eyes were open now and, through the pain, I saw something akin to gratitude way down deep. A second later I heard the clip-clop of Thornbirch’s heels as she left the room. It didn’t matter.
I changed Mr. Burleson’s soiled sheets, his soiled clothes and gave him a bath. I smiled and even hummed a little as I did it. When I was done and he was back in bed, the entire room now disinfected and cleaned, he actually managed a small smile himself before drifting off to a peaceful sleep.
I crept out and somehow found my way back to the elevators without running into my new nemesis. In fact, the only person I saw on my way out was a grizzled old man in a wheelchair who poked his head out his room as I went by. He gave me a fierce scowl and the vibe I got from him was territorial and anything but friendly. I started to back up, but he slammed his door after another burst of hostility that set me even further on edge.
He didn’t like me. No, worse than that. He loathed me. I was an enemy, to be distrusted, watched and taken out if at all possible. I hurried past him as quick as I dared.
There were a few staff around the nurse’s station and they all stared at me as I stepped into the lift. I smiled and waved. Nobody could accuse me of being unfriendly.
Nancy met me with a blast of concern as soon as the doors opened. “Are you okay? What happened up there?” She looked me up and down, and I had the distinct impression she was checking me for tooth and claw marks.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” I said. I had to calm her down before her rampaging emotions gave us both a stroke. “No harm done.”
This wasn’t strictly the truth, as I knew I’d have to deal with the Thorny Bitch’s retaliation sooner or later. But it seemed to do the trick because my mentor let out a long
Hunter / Nightingale / 50
sigh and I felt some of her stress slip away.
“Thank goodness. I was so worried when Gary told me what happened. Whatever possessed you to go up there in the first place?”
“I…heard something. Through one of the vents. I went to investigate. Pretty stupid, huh?”
“Why don’t you tell me all about it? Then I’ll decide if it was stupid or not.”
I’m not a practiced liar. I know that may be hard to believe, but I don’t usually get put in situations where I have to lie to avoid my little “problem” being discovered. But now I found myself having to lie through my teeth for the second time in two days. I tried to minimize the damage by injecting as much truth as I could.
I told Nancy I’d heard groaning coming through one of the air ducts and figured it must be coming from the second floor. Gary went with me to help find my way to the person in distress and we came upon Sam Burleson. When I got to describing his condition, Nancy was truly horrified.
“My God! That’s terrible,” she said. “What did Mrs. Thornbirch say when she caught you?”
“Said something about turning me in to some director and ruining my career. The usual.”
Nancy made a sour face. “She must mean Jack Lowry, the head honcho here. The two of them have been butt buddies since she started working here. Birds of a feather, I suppose.”
“Why do you stay here, Nancy? I asked, completely off topic. “You’re not happy here. You work under people like Thorn Bitch who make Jack the Ripper look like a
Hunter / Nightingale / 51
teddy bear. So why stay?”
She choked back a bitter laugh. “Thorn Bitch. That’s what we call her too. Never to her face, of course.” She looked at the floor and grew serious. “When I was a new grad, I worked at a hospital in Detroit on their surgical ward. It was a good job.
Supported me and my kids with enough left over for the occasional movie night and yearly vacation. One of the doctors was a lot like Mrs. Thornbirch. Quick to anger. Short with everyone. Add in a god-complex and you had yourself one monster of an asshole.
‘Shortly after I started working there, one of his patients who’d had a gastric bypass, took a turn for the worse. Her blood pressure bottomed out and I couldn’t get it back up into the green. I called the doctor and he said to give her Coumadin.”
I gasped. Coumadin was a blood thinner; the last thing you wanted to give someone who had dangerously low blood pressure.
“I repeated the order to make sure I was hearing right,” Nancy continued, waves of guilt and sadness rolling off her. “He started berating me. Cussing me up and down and asking whether or not I was competent enough to follow a simple order. I knew he was wrong. I knew nothing good would come of it. But he was so intimidating.” She took a deep breath. “So, I did it. I gave her a dose of Coumadin.
‘Well, you can imagine what happened next. The patient coded and it was only by the grace of God she didn’t die. There was an investigation. Naturally, the doctor said I’d misheard him. Said he’d never said anything about Coumadin. Guess who the hospital sided with?”
“I’m so sorry, Nancy,” I said, and I meant it. It was a tough break for anybody, let alone someone fresh out of school.
Hunter / Nightingale / 52
She shrugged and gave me a weak smile. “My nursing license was suspended for a year. That was a hard time for my kids and me. I worked odd jobs, mostly under the table stuff. When I could finally get my license back, no one would hire me. I sent out applications to every hospital, doctor’s office and nursing home with a posting. But after my debacle in Detroit, no one would touch me. No one but Sunny Pines. They offered me a job and a chance to relocate, to move somewhere where nobody had heard what I’d done. I’m a pariah in the medical community. If I lose this job, I’ll have nothing.”
I pulled her into a hug and the full force of her shame flooded into me. We stood there in the hallway for a few minutes, crying silently before disengaging and wiping our eyes.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get back to the da
yroom. Gary said something about calling in the military if I didn’t check in with him soon.” Nancy managed a laugh as we walked.
The rest of the day went pretty well. The residents continued to keep me at arm’s length, but some of them began to accept my presence. By the end of the shift, I was no longer an intruder, merely a questionable visitor. I could handle that.
Once relieved by the night shift, Nancy and I were walking towards the exit when I felt a shiver of dread roll off her. “Uh-oh,” she said, looking behind me. “Looks like the Thorny Bitch made good on her promise. His Majesty has descended from his ivory throne and is heading this way.”
Jack Lowry didn’t look like the devil. He didn’t look like much of anything. He was a short, slightly overweight man in his fifties with a receding hair line and shabby suit. No one on the street would have looked at him twice.
Hunter / Nightingale / 53
What I picked up from him, on the other hand, was another story. Nancy was closer to the mark than she realized when she talked about him on his throne. He carried an aura of possessiveness about him that got stronger with every step. Head held high, pudgy chin turned up. Every once in a while he would favor someone with a small smile that was fake and empty. He was the king. This was his kingdom. We were his peasants.
And this little peasant was in trouble. He came right over to me, wearing a smile that was reassuring and, at the same time, meant to chastise.
“Miss Foster, I’m Jack Lowry, Director of Sunny Pines. We’re so happy to have you with us for the next few weeks.” His tone was one of a kindly father looking down on his child. I wasn’t fooled, though. He was no more paternal than a hungry rattlesnake.
I nodded anyway and he went on. “I understand there was a little incident on the second floor. Care to tell me about it?”
It wasn’t a request. For the second time I recounted the tale, tasting the bitter lies as they rolled off my tongue. Amazing how it got easier with time. When I was done, he pursed his lips together as if deep in thought, but even this was a ruse. He’d carefully rehearsed what he was going to say next.
“Were you there when Mr. Burleson soiled himself?” he asked.
I blinked, surprised by his approach. “No, we just found him that way.”
“So you have no idea how long he’d been that way before you walked in? It could’ve been just a couple minutes.”
“I think it was significantly longer than that, Sir,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“But you don’t know for sure, do you?”
Hunter / Nightingale / 54
I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt before shaking my head. He spread his hands in front of me as if to say, there you are. “Miss Foster,” he said reasonably, “we are a small facility, committed to helping those less fortunate in their final years. Our staff are dedicated to this mission, none more so than Nurse Thornbirch. I’m certain if she had even an inkling that one of her patients was in distress, she would spare no effort to make sure they were cared for in the appropriate fashion.”
I doubted this. In fact, I was pretty sure this was a load of hogwash. But I used the small sliver of common sense God had gifted me with and kept my mouth shut.
“So, in the future, if you have any concerns about a patient’s condition, I trust you’ll go through the proper channels. Won’t you?” The Directory smiled pleasantly and, once again, I was forced to grit my teeth while nodding my head.
“Excellent. I’m glad we can put this unfortunate incident behind us. Remember, my door’s always open if you need anything.” This last bit was a blatant lie. He didn’t want me coming through his door.
He nodded at both of us, then turned and walked away. I was relieved he hadn’t wanted to shake my hand. Just being close to him was enough to make me want to take a hot shower. He was a slithering ball of snakes, each head ready to bite the other if it saw an opportunity.
Nancy let out a long sigh and some of the tension in the air around us eased a bit.
“Well, that could have been worse.”
“Yeah, except for the part where Thornbirch gets off scott free for neglecting her patient and I’ve got a target painted on my back.”
She patted my shoulder. “Just keep your head down and do your job. You’ll be
Hunter / Nightingale / 55
out of here in no time.” But she wouldn’t. The unspoken fact that she was stuck here passed between us and I felt sorry for her all over again.
“Nancy, who is Sophie?” I asked.
She looked at me. “What?”
“When I was with Mr. Burleson, he kept crying for Sophie. Said they took her from him. Any idea who he was talking about.”
I felt the pang of sadness run through her. “Sophie Burleson. That was his wife.
We lost her two years ago to an aneurism. They were very close.”
It still didn’t make sense. “Why would he think someone took her?”
She shrugged. “Dementia?”
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t confused. He was just…heart broken.”
“Heartbroken over someone taking his dead wife from him?” she asked.
“In this place, I’m starting to think anything is possible.”
Hunter / Nightingale / 56
Chapter Six
Home was a welcome sight when I pulled in. Jenny was already home from her job at the diner. The sound and smells of dinner on the stove wafted to me even before I reached the front door. Bless her heart.
“Hey, girl,” my best friend called from the kitchen. “How was your day?”
I plopped my bag down on the table. “We still got any of that wine from last night.”
She grimaced and nodded towards the fridge. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
“Well here’s some good news. You got flowers.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. They’re in there on the table. You’ll never guess who they’re from.” Sure enough, a dozen pink roses sat in a vase on the coffee table. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I hadn’t gotten flowers since my Dad sent me some at school on my 16th birthday.
Hunter / Nightingale / 57
I took a deep whiff before picking up the card. They were from Michael. The note said: Dear Ava. Sorry about the other night. Sorry about everything. Hope to see you soon.
Jenny appeared in the doorway. “See. I told you you’d never guess. You gonna give him a second chance.”
I wiped the away the smile I wasn’t realized had formed. “That’s a little presumptuous. It’ll take more than a few flowers to wipe away the past six years.
Besides, I have more pressing problems to deal with right now.”
“Okay, Chick. Spill it.”
By the time I finished the tale, (truthfully this time) dinner was on the table. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, farm-fresh green beans and biscuits with generous amounts of gravy over everything. I had to run and exercise an hour every morning to be able to eat like this and not blow up like a balloon. Jenny had a figure like a goddess and was as athletic as a hibernating bear. The bitch.
“So what are you gonna do?” she asked as we dug in. Everything was heavenly.
Jenny was a prodigy in the kitchen and routinely came up with recipes on the fly. Me, I was lucky if I could microwave pizza.
“What do you mean?” I said, my mouth full of potatoes. “I’m going to do just what Nancy suggested. Keep my head down, do my job and get the hell out of there.”
Jenny shrugged. “Okay.”
I eyed her over my dinner plate. “Okay, what?”
“Nothing. Just okay.”
I sighed and put down my fork. “You know I can tell you’re holding something
Hunter / Nightingale / 58
back. So just let it out already and save us both the time and aggravation.”
“You can’t do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that,”
she said. “You can’t do it. I’ve known you a long time and never, not once, have you turned your back on someone who needed help. The next time that empathic radar of yours goes off, you’re going to come running to the rescue. Just like you did today.”
She was right. I’m not a hero or some guardian angel. But when those around me are in pain, it’s like an itch or a splinter that I have to worry over until it goes away.
I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry. “So what am I supposed to do?” I asked miserably.
Jenny smiled. “Exactly what you did today. Just be sneaky about it.”
“Sneaky, huh?”
“Yeah. Why not? Do what you have to do, just don’t let Emperor Palpatine or his little Sith Lord find out about it.”
Undercover work? The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me.
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” I said, grinning like an idiot and resuming my meal.
“At least it’s not just for my cooking.”
Hunter / Nightingale / 59
Chapter Seven
I left home early the next morning. Traffic was light and the skies were clear. I found myself humming as I drove and even the dark, depressing cloud of Sunny Pines did little to dampen my spirits.
A new day had dawned, one where I could help those that needed it, as long as I flew under the radar. Thank God for friends like Jenny Powell.
I’d snagged a parking pass yesterday, so was able to pull my little Honda into the employee’s lot. It was a full ten yards closer than the visitor’s lot. Go me!
Gary met me at the front door with coffee. He seemed to have been waiting for me. I was a little surprised at how much I enjoyed that idea.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey back. Listen, I never got a chance to thank you for going with me yesterday.”
He shrugged. “No biggie. Glad I was able to help. Just don’t ask me to go on another little field trip for a while. One encounter with the Thorny One is more than
