“Quickly, please.”
Returning to Mrs. Matlock’s room, Allie added disorganization and insufficient nursing skills to the growing list of problems. She thought back to the day she’d first toured this floor. Things had seemed to run smoothly. Was the problem solely with the Night Shift crew?
Allie hoped so―prayed so.
“The nurse is going to come in soon.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” Cynthia rasped. “That’s what they say all the time.”
Allie grimaced and picked up the form. “Okay, where were we? Oh, yes, no address…”
“If you must know, my two daughters dropped me off here one day and left. I had no idea they’d planned to stick me a nursing home. I would have slit my wrists, if I did. Before here, I lived with them in a rented duplex. I’ve tried to call them, so has the doctor, but the phone’s disconnected. I think they moved. It’d be just like them.”
“I’m sorry.” Dying with no family, no loved ones close at hand? Allie was moved with pity for the woman…until the thought crossed her mind that she could be making the whole thing up. Perhaps she was delirious. Maybe she had been given narcotics just before Allie arrived on the floor.
Jessie came in, holding a syringe. She gave Allie a guilty look. “I was under the impression that Mrs. Matlock didn’t have orders from her physician for any more pain medication. But I was…um…misinformed.”
“That’s because that―” Cynthia seemed to remember their bargain as she looked at Allie. “That jerk,” she said pointedly, “said he was good at changing doctor’s orders. He said he wouldn’t give me any pain medication unless I did everything he told me.”
Watching the injection being administered, Allie had to ask. “What did he want you to do?”
“Shut up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, not you. That’s what that jerk CNA wanted. He wanted me to shut up, but I wouldn’t. I needed to be changed. I needed medication…”
The woman’s voice trailed off, just as Jessie pulled the needle from her arm.
“You’ll feel better soon, Mrs. Matlock.”
“Yeah, no thanks to you. Where were you all night? Where were you when that attendant pulled my hair and hit me?”
Jessie’s face reddened. “I don’t know anything about that.” Shaking her head, she looked at Allie.
“Course not,” Cynthia crooned on. “You were too busy watching TV.”
Allie raised an inquiring brow.
“I’m not saying anything until my supervisor comes in this morning.”
“What time is that?” Allie asked.
“Eight.”
“Fine. I’ll be here.”
Without another word, the nurse left and Allie returned her attention to Mrs. Matlock. “Why don’t we continue?”
“Sure. But you’d better hurry. I’ll be out soon. With any luck, I’ll die in my sleep.”
Allie wanted to rebuke the woman for such a remark, but realized she would most likely feel the same way, given the circumstances. Of course, Allie knew heaven awaited her. Did Mrs. Matlock have that same peace?
“Date of birth,” Allie asked.
“Twelve, thirty-one, forty-six.”
Allie’s pen lingered above the numbers as she did the math. That made this woman only four years older than she. “Just to clarify, you’re fifty-three years old. Correct?”
“Yep. And I was born on New Year’s Eve. That’s why I like to party. Party hearty, as they say. And I did, too―until I got cancer.”
Allie swallowed the rest of her surprise, wondering if Mrs. Matlock’s lifestyle had aged her beyond her years more so than her terminal illness.
“Will you please tell me in detail what happened last night and this morning?”
Cynthia’s watery gaze fell upon Allie. “It would be my pleasure!”
* * *
“We’re not calling the police, Allie.”
With arms folded, she regarded Evan Jacobs from the far end of her office. It was nearly noon and they’d been discussing the situation for the better part of the morning. “It’s the right thing to do. A crime has been committed.”
“No, allegations have been proved.”
“I suppose Mrs. Matlock gave herself that shiner.”
“The CNA maintains she fell.”
“A police investigation will determine who’s right and who’s wrong.” Allie fumed. “After taking Mrs. Matlock’s report, and having heard two other patients’ complaints of neglect this morning, I have reason to believe there is more wrong with the care here at Arbor Springs than mere allegations suggest. You can’t bury this incident.”
“Who’s trying to bury it?” Evan stepped closer. “Lakeland Enterprises if fully prepared to make restitution where restitution is due…and quit shaking your head at me like that.”
“Not good enough.”
“Allie, you don’t understand. If we call the police, the media is going to find out about this and then Lakeland Enterprises will be smeared across the front page of the Tribune. We can’t afford that kind of PR.”
“I’m well aware of the ramifications. However, I think Lakeland will fare far better with the press if its executives come forward about these allegations instead of handling them internally.”
“I know don’t, Allie.” Evan began to pace.
She had already decided her course of action―even if it meant her job. But then an idea struck. “Evan, you should hold a press conference this afternoon.”
“What?” He halted and stared at her. “That’s out of the question.”
“Listen, it’s a great idea.” Allie paused in thought, working her lower lip between her teeth. “You can say something like Lakeland is playing a proactive role in all this and, getting the police involved is only the first step. You can announce that you’ve hired a consultant to reorganize Arbor Springs’ internal affairs and that you intend to do everything within your power to see that justice is brought to the assailants of these mistreated patients.”
“Except we’re not sure that they were really mistreated. Besides, publicly admitting something of that nature opens us up to lawsuits.” Evan gave a derisive snort. “Even thought Mrs. Matlock stated she had no family, she’d suddenly have relatives coming out the woodwork. Mark my words.”
“Hm…” Again, Allie thought it over and decided he was probably correct on at least that account. “All right then. Just say that Lakeland plans to do everything in its power to aid in the investigation.”
“That sounds a little better.” Evan sighed audibly. “This is my worst nightmare.”
“It’s been that and more for some of your patients. Evan, you simply cannot tolerate such abuse in your facility.”
“I neither tolerate nor condone it.”
“Then do the right thing.” She watched as he struggled with his conscience. “It’s all a matter of perspective. You could turn this thing around, you know?”
“I’ll have to phone the other board members…”
“Fine. But I won’t wait around for their replies. If you don’t call the police, I will. There’s a dying woman upstairs who, I believe, was brutalized last night and something must be done.”
Evan gave her a hard stare and, obviously displeased with the ultimatum. But Allie planned to stand her ground. A healthcare corporation shouldn’t exist, in her opinion, if it had so little regard for human life, hence the word healthcare.
Besides, Allie had attained her primary goal in coming back to Chicago. She had been able to see Jack again, as disappointing as it was, and she’d been given the chance to tell him what Jehovah God had done in her own life. She had seen her stepsister Colleen and planned to see Brenda this weekend.
All in all, her trip had been a success. She didn’t need this job or the aggravation that would follow once the police were notified.
“Very well,” Evan said at last. “Call the cops. But I’ve got some phone calls of my own to make, so if you’ll excuse me…”
/> Allie inclined her head. “By all means.”
She watched Evan leave her office before lifting the telephone’s receiver to her ear. She pressed the three keys for Directory Assistance, grateful that Arbor Springs Healthcare Facility wasn’t in Oakland Park. If it were, she might have Jack and Evan both to contend with, and wouldn’t that be just―to borrow Jack’s word―peachy?!
* * *
Logan yawned as he turned the key and entered the bi-level apartment he shared with his father. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and walked up the beige-carpeted stairs where he heard a familiar drone from the living room.
“Hello? Dad?” He set his briefcase and laptop computer on the oak side table in the hallway. “You home?” Had his father left in such a hurry that he’d forgotten to shut off the television?
“In here.”
So he was home after all. Logan made his way through the narrow foyer and into the adjacent living room. The room was dark except for the glow from the console television set.
“What are you watching?”
“Quiet.”
Somewhat taken back by the brusque reply, Logan regarded his father, noting he still wore his uniform. Then he glanced at the TV.
“Breaking news, or what?”
“Sort of. Steve called to say Allie was on the news so I thought I’d tune in and find out what kind of trouble she got herself into this time.”
Relieved that it wasn’t something more serious, Logan collapsed into the plaid sofa beside his dad. Out of curiosity, he “tuned in” as well.
“We at Lakeland Enterprises are committed to excellence,” a man with reddish-brown hair said. “We will assist the police department in its investigation any way we can.”
“You assigned to this case, Dad?”
“Nope. Not our jurisdiction.”
Returning his gaze to the TV, Logan saw Allie standing off to the left and behind the speaker. On the right, stood three impeccably dressed businessmen.
“What’s going on?”
“Some patients were allegedly assaulted at a local nursing home and this is a replay of the press conference earlier this afternoon. I’m not really sure how Allie’s involved, though.”
“Hm…”
The man finished his tidy speech and left the microphones. Allie followed him, and the other businessman walked off camera after her.
“A rose among the corporate thorns.” Logan grinned at his own jest.
“Ha!” Dad gave a wag of his head. “If she’s in business with those guys, they have their hands full.”
Logan grinned. “On second thought, I might agree with you there. Allie said she’s a consultant, so I imagine she’s uncovering all kinds of dark secrets at that place.”
“Could be.” Dad’s gaze remained fixed on the television.
The anchorman in the studio wrapped up the story and promised to keep his viewing audience informed.
“She’s a consultant, huh?” Dad finally looked Logan’s way.
“Yeah. That’s what she said that first night I met her at Uncle Steve’s.”
Dad stood and turned off the TV. “Whatever happened to Mr. Littenberg?”
“Who?” Logan frowned.
“Allie’s husband.”
“He’s dead. Marilee told me that Allie said the guy was involved in a lot of illegal activity and that Allie knew nothing about it until he was killed in South America.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. The imbecile carved up her cheek.”
Logan winced. He’d glimpsed Allie’s scar, but hadn’t heard how it got there…until now.
Dad rubbed his jaw. “So Allie’s a widow, huh?”
“You interested?” Logan couldn’t help teasing him.
Dad replied with a quelling glance. “Please.”
“I’ll bet she’d go out with you if you asked really nice.”
“Don’t you have something to do?”
“Nope.” He grinned and crossed his leg, ankle to knee, and observed his father pulling several ingredients out of the fridge.
“It’s nine-thirty at night. All good youth pastors are supposed to be sleeping.”
Logan chuckled. “Yeah, sure they are. Hey, are you making sandwiches?”
“Yeah. Want one?”
“I’d love one. Make that two.”
His father sent him a quizzical look. “No supper tonight?”
“No, I stayed at church and surfed the Net.”
“Sounds like an oxymoron―the church and the Internet.”
“You’ve got a point there,” Logan agreed. “But you’ve got to admit, the Internet’s a great resource.”
Dad said nothing as he smeared mayo and mustard on four large bagels.
“You think you might look into what happened with Allie’s deceased husband?” Logan knew he would.
“Why should I? I could give a rip. Besides, I’m not surprised she married someone like that. Allie always had a knack for getting herself mixed up with the wrong kind of guys.”
“Would that include you?” Logan couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.
“I suppose it would.”
Honesty. How refreshing! “Well, listen Dad, I’ve been doing some research of my own. I think I’d like to locate my biological mother.” Logan hadn’t intended on blurting out the news, But there seemed no way to soften it. Pushing to his feet, he walked slowly towards his father. “I’m going at it whole-heartedly. I believe it’s something I need to do.”
“Let me guess. This was Allie’s idea, right?”
“Allie? No, this has nothing to do with her.” He tipped his head curiously. “Why did you think it would?”
“Oh, because Allie has these fairytale fantasies about happy reunions.” Dad slapped on slices of American cheese while he spoke.
“Got any tomatoes?”
Dad sent him a dark glance. “What does this look like? A deli?”
“Lettuce?” Logan persisted.
Muttering under his breath, Dad turned back to the fridge and pulled out half an onion, pickles, lettuce, and tomatoes.
Logan chuckled. “All right, now we’re talkin’ sandwiches!”
Dad grinned in spite of himself.
“Back to my quest—” Logan pulled out a knife and sliced the onion. “—I want to find my birth mother because I seem to have some kind of…oh, I don’t know… some phobia, I guess, when it comes to relationships.”
“Baloney.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” He nodded toward the refrigerator.
Dad chuckled. “I didn’t mean that kind of baloney, you knucklehead. I’m referring to that pseudo-psychological nonsense about relationships. You’re a well-adjusted male. It’s just that, like every guy, you’re nervous about getting married.”
“Were you?”
“Heck, yeah!”
“Will you tell me about it…and about my mother?”
“Must I?”
Logan met his father’s unwavering gaze with a firm one of his own. “I’d hate to do anything to hurt you, Dad, but at the same time, I need to know.”
“And Allie didn’t put you up to this?”
“Nope. The topic never came up.”
After regarding him a moment longer, Dad shrugged in resignation. “I guess I always knew this time would come. I suppose I’m fortunate to have held out this long.” He sighed, sounding weary. “So what exactly do you want to know?”
“Did you love her?”
“Who?”
“My mother!”Logan widened his eyes. “Dad, get Allie out of your head for right now, okay?”
“She’s not in my head…okay?”
Logan refrained from any further teasing. Might not be in his best interest, seeing as his father was suddenly willing to broach a subject that he never before agreed to discuss.
“Did you love my mother?”
“No.” Jack tossed him the tomato. “Slice that up, will you?”
“Sure.” Two slices later, he spoke agai
n. “Why did you marry her if you didn’t love her?”
“Because I got her pregnant.”
Logan knew this already. He’d heard about the circumstances under which his parents had met. He knew his mother had been expecting at the time they were married.
“And don’t ask me how it happened either. At your age, you ought to have some idea―even if you are a pastor.”
“How it happened is irrelevant at this point.”
“Maybe so. But I will say this much―it was a one time mistake that cost me a lifetime of consequences.”
“Yep, that sounds just like sin. Wrecking lives. Destroying people’s faith.” Logan pursed his lips thoughtfully while several passages of Scripture ran though his mind.
“Don’t preach to me,” Dad warned. “I’ve heard it all before.”
“If that’s true, why haven’t you done something about it? You must know that God is ready and waiting to forgive you if you’d only ask.”
“Who says I haven’t asked, and since when do you speak for God?”
“I speak from―”
“Don’t go there, Logan.”
Faced with the choice of challenging his father about his spiritual condition or pursuing the topic of his birth mother, Logan decided he’d make more progress with the latter…for now.
“Dad, why did you marry her? I mean, surely there were other alternatives.”
“There weren’t. Trust me.”
“But―”
“Your mother wanted an abortion. But I didn’t want to add murder to the mess I’d made―and, yes, it’s my opinion that abortion is murder. Was then and still is.”
At his father’s pause, Logan looked up from the now sliced tomato.
“So I promised your mother everything I could think of in order to get her to marry me and have the baby―you.”
Logan thought he detected the edge of remorse in his dad’s tone. “Were you ever sorry you didn’t let her go through with it?”
“Never.” Dad looked him square in the eye. “Let’s settle one thing here and now. I’m not sorry you were born. Got it? And if it ever seemed that way, well…I’m sorry.”
Logan almost fell over from shock. His dad? Apologizing? This was a rare moment, indeed―and an answer to a decade-long prayer.
“I hated myself for my mistake,” Dad continued. “I never hated you. Ever. You’re my son. My flesh and blood. I…I’ve always loved you.”
Broken Things (Faded Photograph Series) Page 10
