Broken Things (Faded Photograph Series)

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “I was trying to make a point, that’s all.”

  They stared at each other. Logan refused to budge.

  “All right. Point taken.” Marilee clung to his hand. “I’ve got the man of my dreams, the engagement ring of my dreams―”

  “I bought the complete wedding set.”

  “You did? Oh, wow!”

  Logan chuckled, pleased that she was so delighted.

  “Three months it is, Logan Callahan.” Marilee smiled and held out her hand, ogling the ring on her finger. “In three short months we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Logan Callahan.”

  * * *

  Cynthia had to admit that service had gotten a little better around here since her angel arrived on the scene. The only thing that had freaked her out were the two cops who entered her room, asking all sorts of questions about the night the CNA hit her. While the policemen had been polite enough, cops in general made Cynthia uneasy. They reminded her too much of her first ex-husband.

  It was at that moment another portion of her life flashed before her, and Cynthia tried in vain to will away the image of a brown-eyed infant whose pudgy arms reached out for her as he sat in his crib.

  “Nurse! Nurse!” She thrashed from side to side, but the memory wouldn’t leave her. “Nurse!”

  “What is it?” A man opened her door.

  “Medicine. I need more medicine!”

  * * *

  Jack couldn’t sleep. His leg ached like crazy, but that was the least of his problems. There were issues at work, namely the new police chief who seemed bent on driving him off the force. The rumor flying around the department was that Chief Anderson wanted a new breed of officers who he could “mold and shape” into Oakland Park’s finest. Word coming down through the chain-of-command was that here wasn’t room for “set in their ways” veterans―even dedicated ones, like Jack. Two of his buddies had been reduced to trivial administrative tasks, and now Jack was checking parking meters.

  Well, he wouldn’t put up with it. He’d opt for retirement, although it galled him to give Anderson his way.

  And then there was Allie. Her marriage sounded as terrible and trying as his has been.

  Yeah, you told me so. The memory of Allie’s leaving that day back in ’69 replayed through his mind for the umpteenth time.

  Finally, he’d had enough reminiscing. With an irritable groan, he threw off his covers and climbed out of bed. When his leg bothered him everything else in the world did too.

  He made his way into the kitchen, deciding on some warm milk and a couple of Ibuprofen tablets. He found Logan sitting at the table working on his laptop computer.

  “What are you doing awake?” Jack reached for a mug.

  “Finishing up my Bible study lesson for tomorrow…er, make that today.” He grinned. “By the way, Marilee said she’d marry me.”

  “I’m not surprised. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. So what are you doing awake at two a.m.?”

  “Thinking. I should know better by now. Thinking can be a dangerous thing.” Opening the fridge, Jack lifted out of the container of milk and poured some into the cup.

  “I know it’s none of my business, but, you know me. I can’t help asking anyway. What are you thinking so hard about that you can’t sleep?”

  “Work, mostly. I’m taking a couple of vacation days…right after I put in for my retirement first thing Monday morning. My decision’s made.”

  “Things have gotten that bad, eh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I know your career means everything to you.”

  Jack stuck his milk into the microwave and watched the numbers count down from forty-five. In those passing seconds, Logan’s remark began to fester. I know your career means everything…

  Beeee-ep.

  Jack removed his warm milk. “Listen, I was a lousy excuse for a father and I’m sorry, okay? Life hasn’t exactly been all peaches and cream for me, you know.”

  Logan gave him a puzzled look. “Where’s that coming from?”

  “You. You insinuated that I’ve always put my career before you, and you’re right. I did. I knew I was a good cop, but I wasn’t a good father, so I threw myself into what I did best.” He paused, his heart heavy. Now he wasn’t even a good cop.

  “Dad, we’ve been over this. I’m not angry with you. Not anymore.”

  “Well, you should be.”

  “Why?”

  “Because all the wrongs I did can never be undone.” Jack sipped his warm milk and grimaced. “Why am I drinking this? I hate this stuff!” He poured the remainder down the sink’s drain.

  “Dad, I forgive you for any mistakes you made raising me. But I think I turned out okay regardless.” Logan stood and walked over to where Jack was rinsing out his cup. “Now it’s time to forgive yourself. Let’s move on.” He grinned. “I’m getting married in a few months!”

  Jack turned off the faucet. “A few months? Why the rush?”

  “Why wait?” Logan countered. “If I had my way, we’d elope this week.”

  Jack grinned and opened the cupboard containing the Ibuprofen bottle. Like Logan, once he made up his mind to do something, it was as good as done. “You really are a chip off the ol’ block, aren’t you?”

  “That’s what the elderly ladies in the grocery store tell me.”

  Chuckling, Jack shook out a few pills and popped them into his mouth. He washed them down with a gulp of water. “Just don’t mess up like your old man, got it?”

  Logan gave him a confident smile. “Got it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Just as Evan predicted, the media had a field day reporting on what it dubbed “nursing home abuse.” Arbor Springs, among other facilities, were fair game and Monday morning brought dozens of phone calls into Allie’s office. She did her best to handle each one according to the script she and the board members of Lakeland Enterprises created.

  The accused employee had been suspended without pay, pending police investigation.

  An internal evaluation of all staff and a reorganization of each department were in process to ensure the safety of all patients.

  While most people with loved ones in Arbor Springs seemed satisfied with the explanation, several opted for transfers to other facilities. Allie had no choice but to let those patients go, knowing all the while that their leaving meant less revenue and peeved board members.

  At noon Allie forwarded her phone to a voice messaging system and took her lunch in the dining room. She sat with the supervisor of the billing department, Gordy Henderson. A jovial African-American man, Gordy exuded optimism and welcomed Allie’s presence at Arbor Springs to the point of offering his assistance. Moreover, Allie discovered he was a Christian and a devoted husband and father―traits she respected. In short, he was fast becoming an ally.

  “I can’t believe this place actually serves a tasty meal.” Allie dabbed the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin. “I would have expected the food to be something akin to pabulum.”

  Gordy laughed and it echoed through the dining area. “That’s one thing Arbor Springs does right―its cooking.” He laughed again. “And its billing, of course.”

  “We’ll see.” Allie sent him a wry grin.

  His cocoa-brown eyes widened at the come back, but he didn’t appear worried in the least, only surprised. Then he chuckled, and the rest of their lunch break past in amicable banter.

  Later, as Allie returned to her office, the security guard at the front reception desk hailed her.

  “There’s two women out here wanting to speak with you,” he said.

  She thanked the young man before taking note of his attire for the second time that day. Faded blue jeans, a wrinkled white shirt, and yellow Smiley tie. She reminded herself to ask Evan about uniforms for security personnel. They showed up in various outfits, some less than professional, but all within the vague dress code guidelines. However, none in the security department seemed terribly authoritative, and Allie
thought imposing a new dress code standard might initiate a change. There was just something about a uniform that commanded a certain level of respect, not to mention professionalism.

  “They’re over by the TV,” the guard told her.

  Glancing in that direction, Allie spotted the two young ladies. She walked over to them and introduced herself.

  “I understand you want to speak with me.”

  They both stood.

  “Our mother is a patient here,” the female on Allie’s right stated, “and we were told to make sure she’s being taken care of.”

  “Because of what’s been on the news,” the young lady on the left added.

  Both women had long, dark hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin. Each wore a tangled collection of gold necklaces, multiple earrings in each lobe, several bracelets on their wrists. They were dressed in shorts and halters, and Allie guessed them to be in their twenties. They had a Hispanic look about them and she thought she detected a slight Spanish inflection in their voices as they spoke.

  “We want to talk to somebody who can tell us about our mother,” the gal on the right said.

  “You’re welcome to visit your mother and check on her yourself,” Allie offered.

  They looked at each other before simultaneously shaking their heads. Their earrings jangled.

  “We don’t want to see her,” the one on the right said. “We just need to know she’s okay.”

  “What’s your mother’s name?”

  “Cynthia Matlock.”

  Allie hid her surprise. So these were the daughters who Cynthia claimed had “dumped her off” and refused to visit her. Very interesting…

  “Who advised you to check on her?”

  The woman on the left squared her shoulders. “My boyfriend’s father is a lawyer and he is advising me and my sister.”

  “I see. Well, if you’ll kindly step into my office, I’ll take your names. We can call up to the floor and get the latest report on mother…that is, if you’re sure you don’t want to visit her and see for yourself how she’s doing.”

  “Your office is fine,” the woman on the right replied.

  Allie nodded, her curiosity mounting. “Then if you’ll both come this way…”

  Leading them down the hallway, Allie showed them into her office. The women sat down in the two hardback chairs in front of her desk. Taking her own seat, Allie found a sheet of paper and picked up an ink pen.

  “Your names?”

  “I’m Patrice Rodriquez,” said the one whose boyfriend had a lawyer-father.

  “And I’m Kelly Acevedo,” the other replied.

  “You’re Mrs. Matlock’s daughters?”

  They bobbed their heads in unison.

  “Your addresses and phone numbers?”

  “What do you want them for?” Patrice demanded.

  “Well, in case―”

  “In case, nothing,” Kelly said. “Look, we don’t want to be contacted. We just want to know our mother is all right. After that, we’re leaving.”

  “And if she’s not all right,” Allie proceeded cautiously, “who should we call?”

  Patrice slipped her hand into her shorts pocket and produced a business card. “You can call my boyfriend’s dad at his law firm. Here’s his address and phone number. You can reach us through him too.”

  Allie accepted the card, and then phoned the fourth floor. Once she had the nurse on the line, she handed the receiver to Patrice.

  “You need to hear the update on your mother for yourself.” Allie dared not play the go-between, lest these two accuse her of lying.

  “Hi…yeah, my mother is Cynthia Matlock and I want to know if she’s one of the patients who’s been abused in this place.” Patrice listened a few minutes before tossing the phone at Allie. “I don’t care about Mom’s ‘vital signs,’ and that’s all the stupid nurse would give me.”

  “Well, the alternative is to go upstairs and check for yourself.” On one hand, Allie prayed they wouldn’t accept the offer because Cynthia still sported an ugly bruise around her left eye. But on the other, she wished the young ladies would make amends with their dying mother.

  The girls whispered something to each other before Kelly answered for both of them. “Maybe we’ll come back another time. And maybe we’ll bring my boyfriend’s dad.”

  “That’s entirely your choice.” Allie stood. “Visiting hours are between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.”

  “Yeah, we know,” Patrice muttered.

  Watching them exit her office, Allie felt remorseful, and tad guilty, that she hadn’t been more honest with Cynthia’s daughters. However, her loyalty was to Lakeland Enterprises. After a few more minutes of deliberation, she lifted the phone and called Evan. Allie thought this situation might be moving beyond her expertise. Perhaps these phone calls and family members should be referred to a corporate attorney.

  “Allie, I saw this coming,” Evan said.

  “I know, I know. I never said it would be easy, but we did the right thing.”

  “Glad you think so.”

  His tone sounded cynical, but she refused to let it intimidate her. Sitting back in her padded desk chair, Allie prayed that God would prove her right to Evan and other board members. The ethical way of conducting business was always the right way. Allie sensed that Evan believed that too, even though he obviously disliked the present consequences.

  They talked a while longer and Allie introduced the subject of uniforms for the security guards. Evan liked the idea and encouraged her to bring up the matter at the next board meeting. Allie promised she would.

  After wrapping up the call on a positive note, she finished printing the productivity logs she’d created. Last week, she had informed all the supervisors the logs were coming and the news wasn’t well received. But the documents were a necessary evil if Allie was to get the feel of the workflow at Arbor Springs.

  Papers in hand, she began the distribution process. She went from the first floor up, speaking with supervisors, and familiarizing them with the forms.

  Riding the elevator to the top floor, she glanced at her wristwatch. Ten minutes of five. As the doors opened and she stepped into the hall, she immediately recognized Cynthia’s cries for water. She noted the disturbed expressions on visitors’ faces. Why hadn’t anyone done something to quiet the poor woman?

  Allie rushed forward, but when she entered Cynthia’s room, she witnessed the patient’s bad behavior. Up until now, she had only heard about it from the nurses and their assistants.

  “Mrs. Matlock,” the male nurse at her bedside said, “you can’t have any water because of the stomach tube―”

  Cynthia cursed a blue streak. Next, and much to Allie’s horror, she yanked the plastic tube from her nose. She coughed and sputtered. Allie nearly gagged when she glimpsed the sticky, yellowish coating at the end of the tubing. Nursing was definitely not her calling.

  “Nice going.” The RN maintained a calm voice as he shook his sandy-blond head. “You just pulled out your G-tube.”

  “I’m thirsty! Can’t you understand that?”

  “Oh, I understand. But now you’re going to the ER to get that G-tube replaced.”

  Cynthia let loose with another string of obscenities.

  “Enough, Mrs. Matlock.” Allie walked further into the room.

  Both patient and caregiver glanced her way.

  “Angel,” Cynthia murmured.

  “Don’t ‘Angel’ me. I’m appalled by your conduct. This man is trying to help you.”

  “Thank you.” The nurse’s hazel-eyed gaze narrowed as he considered Allie for a long moment. “Hey, you’re the new consultant, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right. Allison Littenberg.”

  “I’m Nate Ryden. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Angel,” Cynthia gasped. She moved her head from side to side. “He’s not helping. He’s adding to my misery. I need water.”

  “Can’t have it,” Nate insisted. “Doc
tor’s orders.”

  Allie searched her brain for some compromise. “Can you call her doctor and ask him if she really needs that tube?”

  Cynthia continued to thrash about.

  Nate shrugged. “I suppose I can. But there’s a reason he ordered it in the first place.”

  “Because he wants me to suffer,” Cynthia rasped. “You all want me to suffer.”

  “That’s not true,” Allie said softly. She came closer to the bed intent on consoling Cynthia. However, the agitated woman succeeded in pulling out her IV. She flung it haphazardly, and the needle stuck Allie in the forearm.

  Allie pulled it from her skin, fighting instant panic. She looked wide-eyed at Nate. He motioned her toward the door.

  “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Cynthia reached for her. “Don’t go….don’t go…”

  Cynthia started sobbing, but Nate closed the door on her. Her muted cries followed Allie like a shadow, except sheer fright had replaced any compassion she once felt for the dying woman.

  Allie followed Nate to the nurses’ station. “Please tell me that woman is not HIV positive.”

  “She’s not.”

  Allie closed her eyes in relief and praised God

  “And the only reason I know for sure,” Nate continued, handing her a prepackaged alcohol swab, “is because she bit me last week and we had to run labs on her.”

  Opening the wipe, Allie cleaned the tiny puncture wound on her arm. “Can you tell me what exactly she does have?”

  “Nothing contagious if that’s what you’re worried about. Metastatic lung cancer.”

  “Need another incident report?” Sherelle Barnes, the daytime unit secretary, glanced from Nate to Allie.

  Allie hesitated.

  “Might as well fill one out.” Nate lifted a shoulder. “Especially with the media’s hype about how we all abuse patients. Besides, Room 8’s chart is full of ‘em.”

  “Incident reports?”

  “You got it.”

  Allie accepted the form from Sherelle.

  “So how come Mrs. Matlock calls you ‘Angel’?” Nate reclined against the counter. “Wait. I know. It’s because of your heavenly presence.”