The Widow's Walk (10 page)

Liz rose from her chair. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. Cell phones don’t work in here.”

“Liz.” Allison embraced her. “ What happened to you?” Her eyes surveyed the battered right side of Liz’s body, then glanced back at her father, obviously more concerned.

“I slipped and messed up my ankle and knee. Actually, I’m doing much better.”

“We’ve had a bad few weeks, sweetie.” Mike clutched Allison’s hand.

“You’ve both got to take better care of yourself.” Allison patted him like a puppy.

Damn, we’re like an elderly couple being watched over by grudging children.

Liz squirmed. She needed to get away for a few minutes, and now that Allison was here, she could leave without worrying.

“Let me check on your room, Mike.” Liz fled without waiting for a response.

Allison fussed over him like he had done when she had appendicitis at age eight. When did the roles reverse? How could the caretaker become the patient, and the child be more in control than the parent?

A warning–that’s all. He had to do things differently–and not touch any more ghosts.

She finished poking around the monitors. “Everything looks good, Dad. But maybe you and Liz are pushing it too far. She looks awful, too. Can I do anything to help?”

“No, thanks. And please, don’t mention this to Liz. She’s already feeling responsible.”

“Dad, at this stage of your life, you should be relaxing, taking it easy. I don’t want to lecture you but a man your age . . .”

“Then don’t lecture. I’ve been doing this since I was a teenager, and I’m not going to stop now. I have a wife and baby to support.” He felt like a geezer right now, but was in the best shape amongst his friends.

“You’re going to a room now, Mike.” Liz walked in followed by a nurse and orderly.

Had she heard? Her voice was cold as stone.

“I’m going to talk to the doctor and find Dana to let her know what’s happening.” Allison stepped out of their way.

The nurse disconnected wires, and the orderly clicked a brake on the stretcher. They pulled him out into the hall, past the desk, through a back doorway to an elevator. Liz hobbled behind, juggling her bag, his things.

“Patients only, ma’am.” The orderly punched three, and the door closed in Liz’s face.

“Hey, man. How is she supposed to find me?” Better not get too testy while this joker was pushing him. He was in no condition to fight back.

“I don’t make the rules, just follow them. Visiting hours are almost over and they’ll have to leave.”

If he’d been stronger Mike might have looked forward to the firework show when his wife and daughter were told to go. But right now he just wanted to have some tea and go to sleep.

Rubber wheels squeaked, and those stupid clogs the staff wore slapped the floor. They rolled past the nurse’s station where everyone looked about as happy to be there as in a dentist’s office. The rail ground against the door frame. The jolt knocked loose the pain in Mike’s chest again. He grunted and grabbed himself, holding his breath until it eased.

The orderly didn’t acknowledge Mike’s discomfort, didn’t apologize. Nothing. And neither did the woman who came in to help.

He moved the stretcher next to a bed, all the while discussing the upcoming March Madness basketball. “You can move over now.”

Mike guarded the IV and slid across, bare-assed, freezing. Were they holding the bed and stretcher together enough that he wouldn’t fall through?

He got himself situated and tried to figure out how to raise the head. The woman handed him the controls and corralled him with side rails. The orderly set off to terrorize the next patient. She fled without another word.

The bed was as hard as a marble slab. He shivered under the thin sheet. Another spasm of coughing grabbed hold. Mike would have cried if he wasn’t a grown man in a dress with no back. Then came the vision.

Jared lay in what was now the same guest room he slept in, choking on his own phlegm. He murmured something unintelligible, delirious.

“There, Jared. We’re here with you.” Katherine, already in a black dress, sponged him off, not even flinching at the sight of his naked, gaunt body.

Paul stood watch near the door, his hands folded, his lips moving in silent prayer.

The doctor put on his coat and hat. “Very good, Mr. and Mrs. Mays. I fear it won’t be long for the poor fellow. May he finally find some peace.” His footsteps faded.

Katherine began to sob. “Why, Paul? Why did it have to end for all of them in such a horrible way? Not one of them died with their spouse by their sides for comfort. Edward, Elisabeth, now Jared. I fear this house is cursed.”

Paul took Katherine into his arms. “We’ll carry on the best we can. For Edward, for Elisabeth, and for Jared.” He looked at his dying friend gasping for breath, mucous frothing around his nose and mouth.

Paul dabbed Jared’s face with a towel. “Go quietly and peacefully, my friend. God willing, Elisabeth will be waiting for you on the other side.”

Mike shook like a tree branch in the wind. He had the same soupy cough, foamy spittle. Jared Sanders had resigned himself to his fate, but Mike Keeny wasn’t going anywhere. He punched the call button for the nurse. He dissolved into another spasm, his chest tight, dizzy, pain in his back like someone had beat him with a stick.

“Nurse!” he managed to get it out but doubted anyone could hear him through the closed door. The cough left him gasping, the pain in his chest made it hard to take the next breath. Mike couldn’t muster another call for help. He pounded the call bell on the bed. It continued to bleat, but there was no response.

Give up
, Jared insisted.
She threw me away like a piece of trash. I gave up everything–my home, my livelihood, my reputation because of that woman. And where is she now when you need her?

Near panic, Mike tried to get the oxygen mask back on. The elastic strap tangled behind his ears, and he couldn’t get a tight enough seal for any relief.
It’s not her fault. That prick closed the door in her face. Liz is looking for me. I know she is.

Mike drew what he could from the mask, but it was like sipping through a straw with a hole in it. The pain eased, but a wad of phlegm closed off his throat. His heart fluttered. The sheets were drenched with sweat.

Could he fight off his own ghost?

Chapter 17

“
Oh, my God!” Liz ripped the call bell cord out of the wall. She knew from past experience the immediate high-pitched whine would bring a stampede down the hall.

Allison had already gotten the oxygen mask back on, and Mike sucked in air like a greedy baby. She reconnected the monitors. “Lie back and rest, Dad.”

Mike’s heart beeped frantically, and the O2 thingie flashed between 93 and 94%. A nurse rushed in. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m freezing . . . and can’t . . . breathe.” Mike stammered. Liz got right into her face. “We found him here alone, unhooked from all the monitors, gasping for breath, with the call bell unanswered, that’s what’s wrong.”

The nurse turned off the bleating alarm and plugged it back into the wall. “I just came on. Let me get an aide to take vital signs and go check the orders. My name is Cynthia.” She took Mike’s hand. “I’ll get your meds, dry sheets and a blanket, Mr. Keeny. Don’t worry, we’ll have you comfortable as soon as we can.”

Mike nodded and tipped his hand to his head. Cynthia hurried out.

Liz settled into the chair next to Mike’s bed.

He took her hand, still too winded to speak, shivering like a leaf in a fall gale.

“I asked them to call the supervisor when the orderly slammed the elevator door in my face.” Liz said this as she put her coat over him.

“Let me handle it.” Allison left.

A female aide came in with a thermometer and blood pressure cuff. She tucked a warm blanket around Mike, then took his vital signs.

Liz wasn’t surprised to see the temperature register 103ºF. She helped change the sodden linens, sparing Mike the indignity of his daughter seeing him naked.

“Don’t mess with my two girls.” Mike smirked, his voice tinny, trapped inside the mask. “Damn, it hurts.”

“Once they get the fever down, you’ll feel better.” Could they get it down?

Cynthia came back with two blankets and an extra pillow, and tablets in a small plastic cup. “Here is something for fever and pain, Mr. Keeny.” She removed the mask and waited until he swallowed the pills with a sip of water.

“The supervisor is talking to your daughter.” She replaced Mike’s mask and fiddled with the IV. “These are the antibiotics.”

Steam boiled inside Liz. The orderly had slammed the door in
her
face, mistreated
her
husband. Allison should be in here, attending to what she knew best. Liz should be handling the complaint. And Mike needed peace and quiet, no more to think or worry about.

She took advantage of the nurse’s presence. “Let me go find Allison.”

Mike nodded, still too winded to waste words.

Allison stood talking to a woman with a white coat over green scrubs. “I know you’re busy, but both my father and stepmother are frantic. I’ll stay and take care of him tonight.”

Stepmother. Like the wicked witch in her castle, plotting evil deeds. Liz groped for words, but they clogged in her throat. She was Mike’s wife. She’d promised not to leave him.

“Is there anything else I can do to ease your mind, Ms. Keeny?"

Allison’s back was turned, so she didn’t know Liz was there. “No, thank you for coming up.” “I’m her until midnight, if you need me.” The supervisor hurried toward the elevator.

Liz wanted to go after her, say her piece, yet didn’t want to leave Mike all alone. Allison swiveled and almost bumped into her.

“Liz! She made all the usual excuses. Support staff run amok, as usual.” She went back into the room.

That was it? Explanation accepted? The nurse came out of Mike's room.

“You look so upset, Mrs. Keeny.”

“My first husband died of lung cancer.” The tears broke free.

Cynthia stroked her arm. “I’ll be in on rounds just about every hour. I also have his monitors on alarm, in case anything changes.”

She was probably thinking what a pain in the ass it would be, handling a meddling wife desperate to hold back the ravages of time, to control fate. In the space of a couple of weeks, Liz had turned from a new mother to an old woman limping along with a cane. From a widow grateful for a second chance at happiness, to one grappling to prevent it from happening a second time.

She paused at the door to Mike’s room to unjumble the emotions boiling inside.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been back, but it’s so hard.” Allison’s voice was warbly, thick with regret.

Liz removed her hand from the door handle.

“Dad. I’m staying tonight. Let me go find Dana and send her to your house.”

“It hasn’t been lived in for some time, Allison.”

Oh no
. Liz walked in. “Allison you’re the most qualified to stay, but I wouldn’t sleep a second if  I was home worrying.”

“There’s no reason for two of us to be here.” Allison’s pursed lips belied her annoyance.

“No, there isn’t.” She couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t leave. She was his wife.

“I don’t think either of you need to stay. That nurse is first-rate. Whatever they’re giving me works like magic. I feel great.” Mike was doing his best to avoid an argument.

“If only you’d gotten some antibiotics last week, Dad.”

“I know, I know. But I didn’t, and here I am. No lectures, remember?” Another paroxysm of coughing overcame him.

Liz squirmed. She didn’t dare tell Allison they were using herbs and homeopathics.

“Okay. Liz will stay tonight and I’ll stay tomorrow night. Is that okay?

Mike, still hacking, nodded.

Allison picked up her bag and turned to Liz. “You’ll be ready for a break by tomorrow.”

Was that a trace of sarcasm, or was she being paranoid?

“Where can I get the keys, Dad?”

“Stop by the inn. Kevin will get you settled,” Mike rasped.

Is this a deliberate snub?
“Allison, the heat and hot water are on low and there are only a few outdated groceries in the cupboard. The phone is disconnected, and there is no Internet. Why don’t you stay at the inn? I’ll have Mae make up a room for you and Dana.”

“Thanks, but this might be my last chance to sleep in my old room since the house is for sale. I need to put a lot of things behind me before I can close the door. You have my cell phone number.” Allison was acting gracious, but aggravation oozed from her voice.

She kissed Mike on the forehead. “Behave yourself. Drink a lot of water. Deep breathe and cough that junk up. See you in the morning.”

“Yes, boss,” he joked.

“You take it easy, too, Liz. If you burnout, who will take care of you both?”

She wasn’t helpless and wouldn’t be made to feel that way. “Good night, Allison. I’ll call you if need be.”

Liz settled in the chair and pulled it close enough to the bed that she could rest her head on his lap. “She’s angry with me.”

“Nah. She’s always pushy. We’ve had our issues, and still do.” Mike mussed her hair. “How are you going to sleep like that? You really should go home and be with Eddie.” His voice was tinged with uncharacteristic melancholy.

“Eddie will be fine. I belong here with you.” Her watch read eight, but it seemed more like midnight. The baby had been nursing much less lately, so there was only the faintest tingle of fullness. She could wait until the morning. Liz settled into the bedside chair and leaned over to rest her head next to Mike.

The touch on her shoulder startled Liz out of sleep. “Kevin.”

“Yer both exhausted. Shall I ask that lovely young nurse to put the soup in the fridge?”

“Soup? Mae’s soup?” Mike opened his eyes and smiled.

“Aye. Cures whatever ails ya.” Kevin grasped Mike’s outstretched hand.

Neither let go. Tears brimmed in Mike’s eyes. Kevin’s smile faded, he looked down, troubled by something. Had Paul been visiting him?

Kevin let go first. “Still warm. Mae put it into two bowls, sent spoons. She’s not one for takin’ chances.”

Liz moved the bedside table and put a pillow behind his back so Mike could eat. She sat back in her chair and spooned the savory broth into her mouth. It warmed her from the inside out, relaxed tense muscles, eased the pressure in her head.

Mike finished the entire portion. “Tell Mae this did me more good than the drugs.”

“I’m going before they call the cops to drag me out of here.” Kevin hadn’t even taken off his coat.

“How’s Eddie?” Liz had seen him only briefly that morning.

“He’s lookin’ for both of ya. Asking about Da, even said Ma. But Mae showed him a picture and he settled down to sleep with no fussin’.”

Liz sighed. “Allison is coming to relieve me in the morning.”

“We’ll be waitin’.” Kevin poked his head out the door. “The coast is clear.” He disappeared into the darkened hallway.

Mike stayed silent, deep in contemplation.

Oh, God, please don’t let him find out what happened to Jared.

She rummaged through the bags for toothbrushes. “Mae packed a robe and slippers for you, Mike.”

“Don’t need them. I wish you’d gone home with Kevin.”

“I belong with you.”

“I figured you’d say that.” Mike struggled to keep his eyes open.

Liz got him a basin to brush his teeth and washed up in the bathroom. She cleaned off his table, tucked the blankets around him, and wrapped one around herself.

“Let’s sleep.” She kissed him on the cheek.

He reached up to caress her face with more tenderness than he shown in a long while. “I wish we were home.”

“Soon.” Liz rested her head and torso on the bed and let her eyes close.

He hadn’t coughed since eating the chicken soup. “We’re a sight for sore eyes, aren’t we sweetie?”

“Things will be back to normal soon.” If only she could be sure that was true.

Mary stared at Mike, her lips pursed, the way she always looked when she was going to yell at him for something. Her head shook, almost imperceptibly, but he was her husband and knew all the subtleties.

“No, what? What’s wrong?” Mike’s eyes opened and fell on a young woman with dark hair bending over his bed, touching his arm. The beeps reminded him. He was in the hospital, and Mary didn’t want him to die either.

“Everything is fine, Mr. Keeny. Just taking vital signs and giving you antibiotics.” Cynthia plugged one tube into another and fiddled with a clamp.

“Okay.” He could plead delirium and not look like a fool. Mary had never manifested herself to him as a ghost, only in vivid dreams or thoughts too clear to have just been memories.

Liz didn’t stir, well practiced in the sick bed routine, having watched her husband die of a lung, not breast cancer, but cancer nonetheless. She knew exactly how to find comfort sleeping in a chair, ignoring bleeps, hisses, hospital odors and the nurses, who always seemed to be there, in the dark, small flashlights of reassurance that you weren’t alone, that someone cared, that someone was watching.

Mary and Gerry weren’t trapped in warped time. They’d lived full, if shortened, lives. They finished all their business, and then died after grieving spouses had a chance to say goodbye. Not so for Elisabeth and Jared and Edward, the third and elusive arm of the triangle–bound together by a chain of death to a world they could no longer live in.

The blood pressure cuff crackled open. The thermometer beeped. Cynthia whispered. “No fever. You’ve turned the corner. I’m going to take you off the oxygen to see how you do. We can put it back if you need it.” She threaded the tubing off his face.

Mike clamped his eyes closed, but it was too late to recapture the dream, to hear more of what Mary wanted to tell him. Tears welled in his eyes remembering the anguish of watching her die. They’d both known it was time when Mary finally let go. Jared, with nothing to live for, gave up. How much longer could he fight?