by Terri Reid
“Yes, Mr. Frazier, I’ll tell the director what you said,” the nurse called as she walked out of the door just three feet away from Becca.
Becca’s heart caught in her throat and she stepped away from the trolley, trying to come up with an explanation of why she was hovering near the medications. The nurse’s hand was on the outside of the door when the room’s occupant called out.
“What is that, Mr. Frazier?” the nurse asked, walking back into the room.
Becca breathed a sigh of relief and headed back up to the main hub to access the next hallway.
As she came towards the nurse’s station, the soft music that had been playing over the intercom was replaced with the urgent message that a Code Blue was taking place in room 143 W and all available personnel needed to respond.
Becca stepped into a small supply alcove and watched the nurses and staff jog down the hall in the direction of the room. A moment later, she stepped out and walked towards the vacated station.
From previous visits, Becca knew the pharmaceuticals were stored in a room directly behind the nurses’ station. In the past she’d only been able to take a few pills, that only lasted several days or a week at the most if she took them judiciously. But, if she was able to take them from storage, rather than the carts, she could get enough to last for much longer.
She looked up and down the hall and, seeing no one, slipped behind the counter. Watching the halls in front of the station, she slowly walked backwards, toward the storage room. With her hands behind her back, she grasped hold of the door knob and turned.
Unlocked!
She quickly slipped through the opened door and hurried into the small room. The shelves were loaded with medications, all arranged in alphabetical order and then by prescription strength. Tracing the names on the shelves with her finger, she finally came to the theophylline. The case was filled with the bright orange capsules, she couldn’t believe her luck. She reached up and opened the case, grabbing several months’ worth of pills and stuffed them into her pants’ pockets. Then she reached up to get one more packet.
“Thank you, God,” she breathed quietly.
“I don’t think God has anything to do with thieves,” said the voice behind her as the door closed with a click.
Chapter Nine
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are,” Clarissa held the last word of the song for a moment and then bowed to the applause throughout the room.
She took a deep breath and was about to start another song when Mami stopped her. “Clarissa, dear, I need your help for a few moments,” she said. “Would you please push me to my room? I seem to have forgotten my medicine.”
Knowing how important her mother’s medicine was to her well-being, Clarissa didn’t hesitate. She walked around the wheelchair, grasped the handles and pushed it forward. “Where do you want me to go?” she asked.
“Just through those doors,” Mami said, pointing in the same direction Becca had taken a few minutes earlier. “And then turn to the left.”
A nurse rushed past them pushing an empty gurney down the hall, but other than that, there were no other staff in the hall. Clarissa guided Mami carefully, making sure she avoided bumping her against the wall or any other objects in the hall.
“You are a good girl,” Nadja said. “Your mother must be proud of you.”
“She’s proud of me and I’m proud of her too,” Clarissa responded.
“And how long has it been since you had to run away and hide?”
Clarissa stopped pushing for a moment. “How did you know...”
“Ah, draguta, you have no need to worry. I am not going to give you away, I want to help you.”
Clarissa looked slowly around them, making sure there was no one who could hear her. “There’s a bad man who’s trying to take me away from my mommy,” she explained in a lowered voice. “He killed my daddy, so we have to hide.”
“And this bad man, do you know who he is?” Mami asked.
Clarissa shook her head. “Mommy says he has lots of money and he wants to take me away,” she said. “He wants me for his daughter, even though Mommy and Daddy ‘dopted me.”
Mami pondered the child’s words for a moment and then nodded. “Well, first we must help your mother,” she said. “And then we will see what we can do next.”
“Help Mommy?” Clarissa asked.
Mami nodded and pointed to the nurse’s station, only a few feet away. “Just push me over there,” she said, “and then I want you to knock on that door, as hard as you can.”
Once they reached the desk, Clarissa hurried to the door, closed her hand into a fist and pounded. The door opened and the head nurse stuck her head out. “What is it?” she asked curtly.
Clarissa stepped back, several feet away from the door. “I’m sorry…,” she stammered.
“Don’t frighten the child, Alicia,” Mami said. “She was just doing me a favor.”
The startled nurse turned towards Mami. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”
“No need for apologies, I don’t have time to listen to you blather,” Mami replied sternly. “I sent this girl’s mother to either find some help or get me my medicine because I wasn’t able to breathe properly. We came out to see what’s taken her so long.”
Clarissa looked back at Mami in surprise. She wasn’t acting like the sweet grandma she had just helped down the hall. She was more like the principal at her school.
“You sent her?” Alicia asked.
“Of course I did,” Mami replied. “Do you think I could go and get my own medicine? I tried to have someone on staff help me, but they were all busy.”
“We had a Code Blue in the west wing,” Alicia explained.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Mami replied. “But I still need my medicine. Have you seen this little girl’s mother? Did she get my medicine?”
Alicia turned back into the small room. “Did Mami send you in here for her medicine?” she asked.
“Excuse me, Alicia,” Mami said, rolling her wheelchair behind the desk and up to the door. “Are you doubting my word?”
“Well, not really…”
“If you don’t believe me, why don’t you look and see what she’s holding in her hand,” Mami insisted. “Theophylline for my breathing problems.”
The nurse marched forward, snatched the packet of pills from Becca’s hand and read the label. “Why didn’t you tell me you were helping one of the residents?” she snapped.
Becca took a deep breath, her face still pale and her eyes wide with fear. “Well, I...,” she began.
“I doubt you gave her a chance to speak,” Mami interrupted. “Now, can we finish with the interrogation and let Mrs. Newman give me the medicine I need? Or shall I pass out and then have an investigation into why I wasn’t given my medicine in a timely manner?”
“No, of course not,” Alicia stammered. “But I have to check your chart before I allow you to take it.”
“Of course,” Mami replied. “Please check it and then you will apologize to Mrs. Newman because she was just trying to help.”
The nurse hurried past Nadja and her wheelchair and typed into the computer at the desk. After a few moments, she looked up and nodded. “I apologize, Mrs. Newman, it seems that Mami indeed needed her theophylline. In the future, however, I must insist that you do not take it upon yourself to get drugs for our residents. You are not authorized to do so and you could be jailed for the unlawful distribution of pharmaceuticals.”
Becca nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice dry. “I will never do it again, I assure you.”
Becca handed Mami the packet of pills and the old woman looked up at her and smiled. “I believe I would be much more comfortable taking them in my room,” she announced. “Would you mind pushing me there, Clarissa?”
Clarissa slid around from the other side of the nurses’ desk, where she’d been hiding. “I can push you wherever you want to go.”
Mami smiled. “Thank you, draguta, just push me up this aisle,” she said, pointing to the hallway on the left. “Becca, please join us. I want to get to know you and your lovely daughter better.”
In a few moments they were in Mami’s room which was decorated in rich, vibrant colors and was filled with beautiful dark wood furniture and upholstered chairs of rich brocade.
“This doesn’t look like a nursing home room,” Becca said as they entered.
Mami laughed. “Oh, no,” she said. “When it was decided I would live here, there were certain things that I was not going to do without. My furniture was one of them.”
She rolled further into the room and then slowly lifted herself out of the wheelchair. Grasping the edges of a bookcase, she made her way to an ornate dresser and opened the top drawer. Reaching in, she pulled out a plastic bag filled with more orange pills.
“I noticed you collected some of these the first time you came,” she said, pulling out the bag and handing it to Becca. “So, I placed them on my medications list and have been saving them for you for a few months.”
Becca was astonished. “You knew…you saw?”
Mami smiled at her and patted her hand. “I saw a woman protecting her child,” she said. “That’s all.”
“What? What do you know about us?” Becca asked.
“I know that you and Clarissa are not who you seem and that you are running away from someone who threatens to take her away from you.”
Becca shook her head and stuffed the pills into her purse. “I’m very thankful for the pills,” she said, her voice shaking. “And I can never thank you enough for what you did for me, for us, today. But, we have to go now.”
“But, Mommy, Mami Nadja was going to help us,” Clarissa protested. “She knew we were running away and hiding.”
Becca’s eyes widened. “Please, I beg of you, don’t tell him,” she said, fear evident in her voice.
“Oh, no, I wasn’t going to tell…,” Mami began.
Becca gripped Clarissa’s hand and pulled her across the room. “We have to go,” she said firmly.
“But, I was going to…,” Mami paused and sighed when the two slipped out of the room and her door was pulled firmly closed behind them. “Ah, Nadja, you dinlo, you spoke too soon and frightened them.”
Chapter Ten
Ian walked down the stairs in the early morning, pulling his sweatshirt over his head. As he neared the kitchen he could smell the aroma of blueberry muffins. “Is our Rosie already here?” he asked, as his head popped out of the neckline.
“Excuse me, Rosie is not the only one who can cook around here,” Mary replied, from her position behind the kitchen counter.
The mixer was filled with buttery-colored batter with large plump blueberries throughout it. But the counter, sink and Mary’s body also had their share of batter covering them.
“Was there a war then?” Ian asked casually, as he picked up a dish towel and wiped some of the batter off Mary’s nose.
“No,” she sighed. “I just didn’t realize how powerful the “High” setting was on the mixer. It was like jet propulsion, batter flying everywhere.”
She pushed back her hair, only to find a glob of batter hanging from it. “Gross!”
“And how did the survivors turn out?” he asked as he reached over and picked up a cooked muffin from a basket at the end of the counter, unwrapped it and took a very small tentative bite.
“Oh, that was rude,” Mary said. “It’s not going to kill you.”
He grinned and took a bigger bite. “Well, what a pleasant surprise, these are quite good,” he said.
“Well, if there was ever something known as Scottish charm, it skipped a generation with you,” Mary said.
Ian grabbed another muffin. “Ach, no, it’s not the Scottish who are charming,” he said. “We’re the warriors. We let the Irish be the charming ones.”
“How lucky for the Scottish women,” Mary replied acerbically.
Winking at her, Ian laughed. “Oh, darling, women much prefer fine braw warriors to warm them at night.”
He bit into the second muffin with enthusiasm.
“So, how are they?” Mary asked.
His filled mouth prevented him from answering directly, and he took a moment to really observe Mary. She will still dressed in her sweats, her favorite pajamas, and was wearing an apron. Her hair was still sleep mussed and she looked worried.
“They are the finest examples of blueberry muffins I’ve ever eaten,” he replied and watched the rosy glow spread across her face. “And, as long as you promise not to tell, I’d say there were better than Rosie’s.”
Her beaming smile was reward enough for his slight white lie. “And how long have you been working to perfect this wee morsel of delight?” he asked.
Drooping her shoulders, she let out a weary sigh. “That’s the third try,” she confessed. “I kept leaving things out or doing things wrong. Who would have thought baking was so tricky?”
Smiling gently at her, he wiped a little more batter from her hair. “Well, they’re all the more delicious for the effort,” he said. “And now, would you want me to tidy the kitchen and bake a few more batches while you run upstairs and shower?”
“Who says Scots can’t be charming?” she asked. “Thank you.”
“Ach, my pleasure,” he said, grabbing another muffin from the basket.
“But don’t eat all the muffins,” she called from the stairs.
His mouth filled, he mumbled after her, “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t eat them all.”
Twenty minutes later, it was Mary’s turn to come jogging down the stairs and enjoy the aroma of fresh-baked muffins. The kitchen was neat and tidy and there was a heaping pile of still-warm muffins in the cloth-lined basket.
“Thank you, Ian,” she said. “Everything looks great.”
“Aye, and you owe me a greater favor than you think,” he replied. “Thanks to you I’ll be working out for several hours today to work off all the carbs your wily muffins tempted me to eat.”
“How many?” she asked, trying, but not succeeding in hiding a grin.
“Ach, I ate ten of them,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “I just couldn’t help myself.”
Her smile widened and she stepped up and placed a kiss on his cheek. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”
He shook his head and winked at her. “Crazy women.”
The door opened as Ian spoke and Stanley walked inside behind Rosie. “Who’s crazy?” he asked.
“Women are crazy,” Ian repeated, joining Mary as they went to the door to greet them.
“I can agree with you on that,” Stanley said, grumbling more than usual.
“Stanley!” Rosie chided, her normal cheery disposition absent. “Women are not crazy.”
Mary looked at both of her friends carefully. “Is there something going on?” she asked. “You both seem awfully tense.”
Stanley shrugged. “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he said, “that’s all.”
Rosie nodded. “Same here, it was a restless night.”
Grinning, Ian gave Stanley a soft punch on the arm. “Why Stanley you old rascal…,” he began.
“Tweren’t nothing like that, so get your mind out of the gutter,” Stanley interrupted. “Rosie was at her house and I was at my house. And I’m sure what kept me tossing and turning was nothing like what kept Rosie up.”
Rosie glared at him. “How do you know what kept me up?”
“I ain’t saying I know and I ain’t saying I don’t,” he said. “But what kept me up was so far out of the ordinary, I doubt anyone else would have experienced it.”
Shaking her head, Rosie turned to face him. “Well, what kept me up was also out of the ordinary,” she replied. “Quite out of the ordinary.”
“What kept you both up?” Mary asked.
“Ghosts!” they shouted simultaneously.
“Ghosts?” they asked, turning to each
other.
“You saw a ghost?” Rosie asked Stanley.
“Didn’t exactly see it,” he said. “But something was there for sure.”
She nodded. “Yes, for me too,” she said. “In my bedroom.”
“Well, I’m sure there’s some explanation,” Ian said. “It’s certainly strange that you are both having similar experiences.”
“I wonder if it’s the same ghost, visiting both of you,” Mary said. “We could investigate...”
“Investigate what?” Bradley asked, coming through the front door. “Hey, are those blueberry muffins I smell?”
Bradley bypassed the group in the living room and headed straight into the kitchen. He picked up a muffin and took a bite. “Oh, Rosie, these are heavenly,” he said. “Stanley is a lucky man.”
Mary turned away from him, disappointed. “So, why don’t you tell me about the ghosts,” she said to Stanley and Rosie. She led them into the front room so they could sit on the couch.
Ian walked over to Bradley, who was helping himself to a second muffin. “You big dolt,” he whispered. “Mary was up at the wee hours of the morning making the muffins.”
Bradley’s eyes widened. “Mary made these?” he asked. “Why didn’t she say something?”
“I’m guessing because the person she made them for immediately assumed someone else made them,” Ian pointed out.
“I’m an idiot.”
Ian nodded. “Aye, you are. But even an idiot has a chance at redemption.”
Bradley put the half-eaten muffin on the table and walked into the front room where Mary sat on a chair across from Stanley and Rosie. He knelt down in front of her.
“You made the muffins,” he said.
She shrugged and nodded, turning her head away and not meeting his eyes. “No big deal,” she muttered.
“Stand up,” he said, as he stood up too.
She looked up at him. “What?”
“Stand up,” he repeated.
Shaking her head in confusion, she slowly stood up in front of him. “What?”
