by June Shaw
Behind him, the young man walked out the front door. “Mr. Price, I’m sorry, but we need you in here.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said to his helper who returned inside. Dave looked at me with a shrug. “Guess I’ve got to go.” He gave me a parting kiss.
I watched him take long steps toward the door. The way he walked, his stride, his concern for my mother, the image of him grabbing my fishing line as it was being pulled away—all of it made me smile. I wanted to be with this man. Even though I had been married once briefly, I had never felt this way before. No man had the same effect on me. Soon after my marriage, my husband had started making me feel even worse about myself than I had from the early years with dyslexia and that horrible trait I’d picked up as a child when my oldest sister died. Dave made me feel totally opposite.
I looked at the doorway he’d gone into, hoping to see him again. I did not, so I backed onto the road and headed down the street when my phone rang. He was still thinking about me like I was doing about him. “Hello,” I said, voice chirpy.
“Hey. You’re in a better mood now,” Eve said.
“Oh, yeah.” My mind returned to the manor, to the woman who had been carted off by an ambulance. “I’m sure she’ll be all right.”
“Hope so. When you get home, would you look at those ideas you have for ads we could use? We need something better than we’ve used before, maybe something that’ll pop when a person sees it.”
Oh my gosh, advertisements never came to my mind. “I didn’t get to my house yet, but it shouldn’t take long.”
“Good. Call and let me know what you came up with.”
Does thinking more seriously about Dave count? That was surely an idea she did not want to hear. “I will,” I said and hung up. Tugging my thoughts away from Dave, I knew I needed to put more effort into trying to get us more business. Too many distractions had attacked my ideas.
Arriving home, I went straight to my pen and legal pad. Many people were much more technically advanced than I was and could use their devices much faster and easier, but paper and pen worked best for me.
What words could we use? I stared at the blue lines on the long yellow sheet, tension building from knowing I needed to write something.
Dave I penned. I wrote the word small, but on the next line wrote it bigger. I found myself doing like Eve on her canvases and drawing small hearts. Doing that made me feel like a schoolgirl, a little adolescent with a large crush. Happily, I used a curvy print to make his name prettier and then framed it with hearts that contained a smile.
“Hey, are you here? I’m coming in.” It was Eve’s voice at my kitchen door. Her key jiggled in the lock.
My eyes speared my work. I sat at the kitchen table, my words and drawings concerning the man she was in love with right out there.
I ripped the page off the pad. Heart throbbing in my throat, I jumped up, wadded the page, and threw it in the trashcan. Its top was silently closing when my twin stepped inside.
Wearing a jogging suit, she sounded slightly breathless. “You got it?”
“You ran over here?” I asked, a question with an obvious answer. Of course she had.
Eve came up and looked over my shoulder at the pad on my table. “You didn’t write anything?” The look on her face said she was disappointed in me. She had always been my big supporter.
Inside, I felt as though I had shrunk. “I had some ideas,” I said quickly. “But I didn’t write them.” Those words came out slower.
She stared at the blank page in front of me. What if she could see the name and hearts I’d created on the page above this one?
I slid my forearm above the legal pad. “Did you have ideas for anything that we could use?”
She pulled up a chair and sat. “We’ll put this ad out in papers in the surrounding parishes, too, this time so we can get broader exposure.” Elbows on the table, she placed her hands together under her chin. “Let’s see. We need to have Twin Sisters Remodeling and Repair in it. But do you think the words all need to be together? Or what about something like this: Need any remodeling or repair done to your home? Call Twin Sisters. And then write our phone number.”
“That’s a great idea.” I wrote what she said. She and I stared at the words.
“Hm, I’m not sure I love it,” she said, her eyes turned up to mine. She was asking for my true opinion.
I gave it. “That would be nice. But since we’re two women running this kind of business, maybe we could mention our years of total experience because we worked so long with Dad, and say they could call and ask about referrals. I don’t believe our customers would mind telling others how satisfied they are with our work.”
“You’re right. But how would we write that? It needs to be something clever.”
We watched my unmoving hand gripping the pen.
“Sunny.” Eve sounded sad. “I hope Mom doesn’t find out we tried to have her assigned to a different table.”
I set down the pen. “I know. Even though she might be happy to sit somewhere else to eat, I really don’t believe she’d want us meddling.”
Eve agreed with a slow nod.
My phone’s ring surprised and satisfied me. I saw it came from my friend Amy, who must be at work in the gumbo kitchen. At least for a few minutes I could stop worrying about Mom and quit trying to concentrate on how to write creative ads for any newspapers.
“It’s Amy,” I told Eve and then answered. Getting up and away from the pad that screamed for my full attention, I wandered over to the window and peered outside. Dark clouds had moved in.
“Hey, girl,” I said.
“Sunny.” Her voice was frantic. “Something’s happened at the manor.”
My heart jammed my throat. “There’s no problem with my mom—unless you heard there is.”
Eve rushed up beside me. Face pinched, she stared at the phone. I put it on speaker so she could listen.
“I heard some lady got real sick in there after she ate, and I thought of your mom. I hope she’s okay. I hope it’s not food poisoning.”
My sister leaned closer to my phone. “Hey, Amy, it’s Eve. I’m with Sunny at her house. We were there when it happened, and the woman didn’t seem too sick. At least I don’t think so.” Her eyes turned to mine. “Do you, Sunny?”
“Probably not. She threw up after she ate. It was a lot and it really gushed.” Recalling those moments made my stomach queasy again.
“It could be food poisoning. Wait, what were you doing over there when she was eating?”
“We ate lunch there, too,” Sunny replied before I could.
“Then y’all need to get tested. Your momma, too.” Worry made Amy’s words louder and faster than normal. “I had a client who died from that. Her whole family got really sick.”
“We’re doing just fine, Amy. Don’t worry.” Eve had slipped the phone out of my fingers and into hers. She looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Right, Sunny? You’re feeling okay, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” I took my phone back from her. “Amy, the woman at the manor got sick not that long ago. How did you hear about it so fast?” After all, she worked at our community center that served the needy. Probably many of them were still eating lunch there or maybe playing cards right afterward.
“I heard a couple of men talking about it, so I asked where they were talking about. The fellow who knew what happened there was Nelson. Why? Was it supposed to be kept quiet?”
“Not at all. I just wondered how word of it spread so fast. We live in a fairly small town.” I’d stepped away from Eve, but she could still hear with the speaker on.
“Okay, I need to get back to work. Y’all just keep an eye out for symptoms, and if you start feeling bad, get to a doctor or hospital right away.”
“We will. I promise.” I nodded at Eve, who nodded back at me.
> “And you’d better keep an eye on your mother. The elderly get hit hardest, you know.”
I said I did and I would; then I thanked her and hung up. Eve and I stared at each other.
“What?” she said. “Tell me your thoughts.”
“The person who knew about what happened there so fast was Nelson. Remember he was one of the two men I introduced you to at Josie’s? I’m certain Nelson wasn’t at the manor, especially since as usual, he was eating at the gumbo kitchen. I believe the person who let him know what happened was Emery Jackobson. Those two men are close, it seems, and I saw Emery at the manor before lunch. I didn’t notice him eating there.”
“But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know.” I pushed the legal pad aside. “I don’t feel very creative right now.”
Eve shifted her shoulders up a bit and lowered them. “Neither do I.”
“I can’t stop thinking about Miss Clarice, especially since Amy mentioned food poisoning, something that can be deadly. I want to check on things there.”
Eve nodded, giving me the belief she felt the same way. As I paced with my phone with the speaker on, she walked near, listening. The secretary answered. “Hello, this is Sunny Taylor. I need to speak with the nurse.”
“I’m sorry. She’s really busy right now and can’t come to the phone.”
“I know what she’s busy with. My mother is a resident there, and I was there for lunch today. I saw what happened. That’s why I’m so concerned.”
“I understand. But there’s no way I can put you through to the nurse. I’m sure you understand that she’s especially tied up right now.”
My eyes flitted to Eve’s.
“Ask for the administrator,” she said, the same thing I was thinking.
“All right,” I said into the phone, “but then let me talk to Terri Hebert. Tell her it’s really urgent that I speak with her.”
A sigh sounded. Long seconds passed. “Here she is.”
“This is Terri Hebert, Ms. Taylor.” Her tone that was normally pleasant and smooth now sounded snappy. I understood. She didn’t want to talk with me.
But I would make her. “You know my sister and I were there for lunch and saw what happened. Since we were right there with our mother, we’re especially worried. What’s going on there now? Has anything else happened? Did anybody find out what made Miss Clarice so sick?”
She hesitated a moment in which I imagined her filling out reports about what occurred with one of her residents and possibly seeing a lot of movement out there. What was everyone doing?
“We haven’t received any news from the hospital yet. Rita Picou, our assistant- administrator, followed the ambulance to the hospital and is staying with her while they’re running tests. Miss Clarice’s son has been notified, but he lives out of state.”
Eve’s right eyebrow lifted while she stared at me. Like me, she might be surprised to know the woman had once married. Or possibly she hadn’t. But she had a son.
“What we’ve been doing over here,” the administrator said, “is getting notes out to everyone telling them to let a staff member know if they feel sick, especially if they get nauseated.”
Worry spiked through my scalp. “Why? Do y’all think it was food poisoning?”
“Just as a precaution.” Her words returned to their usual calming nature. “We don’t believe that was really the cause of her getting ill. The nurse thinks it’s probably a touch of the stomach flu or something similar. Miss Clarice could be sent back here by this evening.”
“Some conditions can be really contagious.”
“We do know that.” I could hear the deep inhale through her nostrils. She wanted to hurry and get off the phone with me. “What we’ve been doing is writing that notice about illness in the central areas on all the white boards that usually announce people’s birthdays, and we’ve had pages about the same thing typed in extra-large print and slipped under all of the residents’ doors. I believe your mother went to her room.”
“Yes. She was going to take a nap, so she won’t see the page.”
“If she’s asleep, then she won’t need to be reading it. Listen, I understand your concern, but I’m sure your mother will be all right, and I believe our sick resident will be, too. Now I really need to go. There are things I need to tend to.”
“Okay.” I checked Eve’s face to see whether she was trying to get some other concern in. Her expression remained calm, her eyebrows both down.
“Thank you for calling.”
Words flowed from my mouth before I determined she remained silent and had hung up. I pressed the red off symbol on my phone. Eve and I stared at each other.
“I’m going to jog a bit and see if any ideas pop up,” she said. “Even if they don’t, I’ll have a good workout.” She pushed the chair she had sat in against the table. “Want to join me?”
I gave her a small grin. “No thanks. Maybe another time.”
“You always say that,” she said on her way out and then shut the door.
Maybe it was time for me to start working out again, I considered. Instead of running, I walked out my backdoor. The air was cool, invigorating with the rainclouds so close, but just passing by, it seemed. Maybe I should start running or at least taking daily brisk walks like I had done awhile back. I’d just gotten out of the habit of doing it at a certain time each day. I needed to start before the temperatures and humidity rose so much that being outside would feel like walking into a sauna.
A few more of the fuchsia flowers had opened since the last time I’d walked out here, making that azalea bush more attractive. The number of tiny buds on it and the other bushes held lots of promise. Maybe they weren’t as horrible as I had believed. The yellow snapdragons stood out most in my small garden to the left. I didn’t find the orange or red flowers on the spiked plants as appealing, but they were all lovely. All of them could probably use water. I unwrapped the hose and gave a good sprinkling to all the plants while the sun came out and chased the dark clouds away. A slight breeze blew against my face. One couldn’t ask for a nicer day. But then why did my back tense with worry? I asked myself, shutting off the hose and winding it where it belonged. Mom should be fine. Her seatmate should be fine. I had no reason to be concerned. I needed to let my uneasiness go.
There was nothing I could do at the manor right now. The staff seemed to be doing everything it could. I couldn’t go and sit beside my mother while she slept in her bed. I wanted to. She wouldn’t like it. I wanted to go and satisfy myself that she was fine and would continue to be physically healthy.
In the storage room behind my carport, I took out the worn tool belt that my father always used when he was a carpenter. Fingering its threadbare lower right corner, I told myself I needed to get that section changed. At the same time, I knew I would not. I tied the stained thing around my waist, grabbed a pair of sawhorses, and placed them on the carport in front of my parked truck. After returning inside the room, I retrieved the large nails and placed them and my favorite hammer Dad had used in each of their slots on the belt. I grabbed leftover chunks of two-by-fours, set them across the sawhorses, and slammed some nails in. My workmanship wasn’t needed here since all I wanted to do was get some of my frustrations out. Slam. Wham. The bunching of muscles in my shoulder felt good. Familiar.
I whacked nails in, one after another, until I had filled in the space across the wood. Then I began another row. The nail heads were dark gray. The flowers out back were pink and red and yellow and orange. Orange. The truck that somebody fired a bullet out of that killed my older sister was orange.
Whack. Whack. Unease squiggled down my spine.
I yanked off my tool belt and replaced it and the other items I’d brought out back into the storage room. Then I ran back to my truck and jumped in, unable to shake off the concern for my mother.
Drivin
g to the manor felt like it took longer than normal although I raced there. I reached its parking lot and saw what I’d feared. Emergency vehicles.
Only these weren’t ambulances to carry more people to the hospital. What now filled the space normally left open near the entrance were police cars.
Chapter 18
I threw my truck in park and raced inside. The place was brimming with men and women in blue. Some residents scattered and others converged and stood gawking to see what was going on. The only time people here saw so much excitement was whenever someone died or that time when Mrs. Jackson won the Louisiana Powerball. She cashed in a thousand dollars of it in tens. Then she returned to the manor and strolled around, tossing money as though she were a rider on a Mardi Gras float, and everyone in the place flailed their hands in the air to catch a few bills or scattered to grab those that fell on the floor.
“What’s going on?” I asked a male resident, the first person I came across inside.
His response was a shrug.
A young deputy stood in the foyer. “What happened here?” I asked him.
“Ma’am, we’re in the middle of an investigation and can’t discuss it right now. Please don’t block this area.” He moved his straight arm backward as though to show me I should do as he said.
“Why? Is another ambulance on its way? Is someone else sick and being taken out on a stretcher?”
An angry expression replaced what previously seemed his little boy face. “Please just do as I told you.” His grimace suggested he hadn’t wanted to use such a nice request.
Terri Hebert came out of her office. The minute she lifted the counter’s cut section of wood and came through, I grabbed her arm.
“Why are all these police here? Something serious happened.”
She looked at other staff members gathered with some police officers and glanced back at me. “Miss Clarice has gotten worse. They need to investigate.”
My heart went out to the lady. “That’s so sad. I hope she gets better.”
