Maddy's Floor (4 page)

The more she considered the issue, the more she searched to distance herself from him and the problem of him. A light went on.

With a sharp nod, Maddy smiled. Dr. Paul Cunningham could take on Dr. Lenning. He'd agreed to take on a couple of the new beds so this would be perfect. He would do this just to help Maddy. He'd been a stalwart supporter of her and her project, and someone she'd come to depend on. He didn't put in as many hours on her floor as she did, but he spent many more over at the hospital side of The Haven where Maddy's presence was minimal. She preferred it this way but with extra patients coming in, she'd need him more than ever. They'd work that out.

On the plus side, Dr. Cunningham found it more difficult to deal with children. Maybe due to his grandfatherly age? Maddy, on the other hand, saw the potential of a young person's ability to heal, regardless of the disease wasting their body away. Felicia would be Maddy's patient and she was delighted to have her.
Perfect.
Everything would work out and calm would be restored.

Maddy strode back to the welcoming warmth of the main area. At her office, she emailed Dr. Cunningham on the upcoming changes and her suggestions for the first two patients. The other two patients would be determined at a later date.

With that email sent, she felt a sense of relief. Adam Lenning might be on her floor, only he wouldn't be under her care.

***

The nurse walked into the ward, a smile on her face. Sissy watched her approach.

"Good morning, Sissy, how are you feeling today?"

"I'm Occupant of Bed 232, not Sissy."

With an age of patience in her voice, the nurse asked, "Why do you insist on calling yourself something so impersonal?"

"It's what I am. How is that impersonal? Besides, the doctor says it has to do with my disassociation disorder or some such thing."

With a smile, the nurse left her alone with her thoughts, all of which centered on the knowledge that yesterday's session had relieved the soreness on her left hip, and what a difference. She shuffled slightly in her bed, pulling the thin sheets up to her chin. Thankfully, there should be no more tests for another couple of weeks. She hated being taken out of her room. Look what happened yesterday. She'd spent hours in the hallway, in an assembly line of the lost and forgotten, until someone had remembered why she was there.

It hurt to be treated as if she didn't count as much as that kid dying across the hallway. Of course, she counted. More than they could imagine. Now why hadn't they accepted her request to transfer upstairs? She wasn't unstable mentally, no matter what people whispered about her. She'd heard them talk. So what if she talked to herself? So what if she called herself Occupant of Bed 232? Everyone should be allowed to make fun of themselves. There was little enough joy in her life.

And so what if damn near everyone in The Haven had applied for a transfer to Maddy's floor? Why didn't they just move the whole floor up there one at a time as beds became available? That was the fair thing to do. She snickered. Better yet, move Dr. Maddy down.

Besides, she'd been here for ages. She should get priority over the new arrivals. Let them put in their time like she had. She didn't want many more months like this – even with her private healing sessions.

Although, she did feel much better today.

***

Confined to his bed at Summerset Home, dying from some stupid disease that none of the damn doctors could identify, former chief of police, John McNeil stretched out his full length. The foreign sounds of machinery droned endlessly at his side. They weren't attached to him, thank God though his days were numbered. He knew that. The doctors and nurses could continue down their same bullshit-lined path, but he'd been a straight shooter all his life. He wasn't about to change now.

He did miss his work, though. The process of dying surprised him – it was plain boring. He needed stimulation. Watching bedpans being changed, tubes being adjusted and charts being marked didn't quite do it for him. Surely, dying hadn't made him useless.

The concept he had no control made him so mad, he wanted to growl. His body might be rotting before his very eyes, yet he'd be damned if he'd let his mind do the same. And it was almost dinnertime – good thing. Too bad the food sucked. At least he'd had his bath already. He shuddered. Who wanted to be treated like a goddamned baby at his age?

Thankfully, his nephew was on his way. There had to be some case he could offer advice on or a local that Drew needed information on.

***

Drew was pissed. The meeting had run late again. "About damn time," he muttered, exiting the station and heading to his black Ford F250. Checking his watch, he realized he was already twenty minutes behind. His uncle had pre-chewed lectures ready to spit out at the least excuse, and by now he'd be spewing them at anyone who'd stop by long enough to listen. Particularly as it was after dinner, so he could lambaste them about the lousy food.

Unlocking his truck, Drew hopped in and started the engine then pulled out of the lot. At least he could update his uncle on his application to enter The Haven. Drew spoke with Gerard Lionel during this morning's visit. Good news. Now Drew would be able to visit both family members at the same time. There was still some uncertainty as to which floor Uncle John would be placed.

Drew knew John had his heart set on Maddy's floor. There was no guarantee that he'd get that boon though. Twenty years of law enforcement didn't guarantee a spot in the 'angels' wing.' Drew snorted. Angels' wing. Who came up with this shit? On the other hand, he'd found there was more than a little to like about the head angel, having verified she was his running goddess.

The Haven had a reputation for caring for their patients. That's all. Nothing more.

Regardless of what rumors abounded, the only thing that happened at The Haven was that people eventually died.

Not him. No way. He'd rather get killed on the job than let one cancer cell into his body. Christ, all he'd done for the last decade was watch members of his family waste away to nothing. He'd eat a bullet first.

The access ramp to the highway loomed ahead. Threading the truck into the traffic, he checked his watch and groaned. At least the meeting that had kept him late had ended with good news. His transfer to the Cold Case Squad had been approved. Now maybe he could make a difference.

That was another move that would piss off his uncle – big time. Tough shit. Not everyone wanted to be the chief of police – especially him.

And following in his uncle's footsteps had never been in his plans. Regardless of what others thought.

***

The visitors to Maddy's floor had gone. The lights had been lowered. The nurses were going through the special ritual to cleanse the day's energy from the floor to facilitate healing overnight. A routine Maddy had established right from the beginning. She had enough different energies to deal with without having to work around residual energy of grieving relatives.

Stiletto heels clicked on the bare marble floor, the echoes bouncing in the dimly lit hallway. Maddy strode from doorway to doorway, checking each sleeping occupant before moving on to the next.

This wasn't part of her job description. This was part of her self-assigned Maddy duties. Besides, it had been a tough day after a tough night, and she needed this. Her patients were family. She loved the journey called life and her beliefs allowed that death was not a crushing end.

The next room was Belle's. This eighty-nine-year-old wisecracker extolled the virtues of living life to the fullest. At every chance, she eschewed healthy eating and the rest of that 'mumbo jumbo,' as she loved to call it. Maddy leaned against the divider between the patients' open areas and chuckled at the shot glass, half full of golden whiskey. Belle's favorite replacement for sleeping pills went totally against regulations, making her doubly happy. Tonight, Belle slept deeply, her energy rippling along her prone body in soft soothing waves, revitalizing her body for tomorrow.

That's the way it should be.

Too bad most people didn't get to experience the same joy and level of balance. So many people took their stress and troubles to bed with them, manifesting their negativity into bad dreams as a result.

Maddy could see patients' energies easier when they slept – when they weren't trying to hide their secrets or control their futures. She'd learned that fear, pain and stress caused energy to drain from a person's body.

Maddy hesitated outside Belle's room. As a patient, Belle wasn't the easiest to deal with. Maddy knew Belle wanted to make peace with those she was leaving behind. She had more than a few relationship wounds to heal. As a healthy vibrant woman, she had been an unapologetic hell-raiser. Maddy had been trying to give her time to deal – but the end of the road was coming.

She entered Belle's room where it was very quiet. For all Belle's peaceful sleep, she was bleeding energy from her lower chakras like a hemophiliac bleeds blood.

Maddy continued her rounds, the soft staccato of her heels tapped out a comforting rhythm. On Maddy's floor, the different patient areas offered privacy without the four walls and doors that one would expect. Several people on her floor had passed on over the years, although fewer every year and so few in the last several months that people had begun to notice.

Maddy didn't delude herself to think that she had unique, fantastic healing abilities that offered the fountain of youth. She chuckled softly. At least not yet. However, she knew that her patients tapped into warm loving energy to deal with their life issues and this often resulted in a prolonged life and healthier last years. In a couple of cases, the people had actually gone home with a new chance at life.

She ignored the whispers behind her back, the curious looks from nurses as they did their rounds, and the subtle criticisms from the rest of the medical team. If she let their doubts in, they'd affect the healing. All actions had an equal reaction – and negative action always caused a bigger reaction.

She hadn't gotten yesterday's weird two-energy incident and the death of a patient off her mind and then there was the board meeting and their bombshell about Dr. Lenning's placement on her floor. She shuddered. Those things alone were enough to rattle anyone's cage.

Consciously shoving away the memory, in favor of deliberate calm had worked throughout most of the day, only to bounce back to problems whenever her schedule eased and she had time to think. Really think.

Jansen Svaar's room came next. With the renovations, Jansen's bed had been shifted. He was not quite in the new area, but not as cozy as he'd been before.

Jansen hadn't minded. The big Swede had enjoyed every one of his seventy-eight years and wasn't ready to jump off yet. Big and robust in his prime, his physical body had withered to one battling diabetes that defied control, and cancer that defied remission. Yet, he was still here and looking so much better than when he arrived. Even his thick head of hair had returned with rich brown color. His last tests had come back with very positive indicators. So much so, Jansen wanted to stop his treatments. According to him, he was all better. If it were possible to heal by his word alone, then he'd see it done.

Maddy grinned as she recalled the many conversations they'd shared in the past.

At the entrance to his doorway, she stopped to survey his bed.

Something was wrong.

Purple energy hovered over Jansen; a thick blanket of colored haze covered his midsection. Frowning, Maddy studied the odd essence. Energy had a signature – like DNA, the energy was unique to each person. It just wasn't as easy to identify.

She'd worked with him long enough to know it wasn't his aura.

The smoky blanket moved.

Who or what did the energy represent? Her gaze swept the rest of the room before striding forward. The activity over Jansen did not shy away; it increased. She narrowed her gaze. The eerie silence of the room magnified the unearthly scene before her.

It wasn't what she'd experienced the night before, racing through the hallway into chaos. She expected noises of some kind. Not this hushed silence, as if sound would shatter the intensity of whatever was going on. She frowned. A struggle of some kind was going on.

She shook her head, panic stirring inside. Could energy fight with itself? With someone else's energy? Is that what happened to Eric? She studied the energy again. This time she saw it. The blanket of malevolence was moving over the bed and occupant, spreading and growing every minute.

Underneath, Jansen was suffocating.

His energy, tiny and thin, struggled to remain separate and distinct from the purple amoeba-like entity sucking the life force from him.

Fear shot through her. This couldn't happen again. Maddy raced to the bedside. "Stop," she cried out hoarsely, not wanting to disturb the other patients. "Leave him alone."

The purple energy quivered in place but did not dissipate.

Maddy wafted her hands over Jansen's body. Her fingers slipped into and through the mist, neither feeling it nor dispersing it. She fed her own energy into Jansen's heart chakra, giving him her strength and will to hold on. At the same time, she closed her eyes and surrounded herself and, by the extension of her hand on his, Jansen's body with white light. The old answer to keeping oneself safe and balanced.