Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 04 - Ghosted (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“I see my face in the mirror and go, ‘I’m a Halloween costume?  That’s what they think of me?”                           

                            ––Drew Carey

Essie felt herself start to collapse to the ground, but John, or a much younger version of himself, quickly bent forward and gathered her in his arms, pushing her walker to the side, and carried her inside.  He gently placed her in her recliner and kneeled beside her.

“Grandma!” he called, patting her cheek with a firm
, warm hand.  “Are you all right, Grandma?”

“Oh, leaping lollipops!” she sighed, opening her eyes to the biggest, brownest eyes she’d ever seen.  “You’re not John.”

“No, Grandma!” replied the young man in uniform.  “I’m Keith!  Don’t you remember me, Grandma?  I’m sorry if I scared you.  I’m home on leave from basic training.  I guess you don’t recognize me in my uniform.”  He was holding and rubbing her hand in an attempt to revive her.

“Keith,” she said smiling, “of course, I remember you, dear.  But in your uniform, you look just like
…your grandpa.”

“Mom thought you might like to see me,” said the young man hopefully.  “I surely didn’t want to
upset you.” 

“Oh, I’ll be all right, Keith,” said Essie, lifting herself a little from her cushion.  “Oh, just look at you.  You cut quite a dashing figure.”

“I don’t know what that means, Grandma,” replied Keith, still a note of concern in his voice.  “Maybe I should call Mom.  Maybe she’d want you to see a doctor.”

“Oh, slithering
slipcovers,” Essie pouted.  “I’m fine.  Please don’t call Claudia.  Look!”  Essie did a few on the spot arm calisthenics and concluded with a subdued Tarzan yell.

“Grandma,” said Keith with
a smile, “you’re too funny!”

“I’m fine is the important thing,” she continued, now looking her young grandson over more carefully, examining
his uniform.  “My, look at this fine uniform!  And all your ribbons!  I suppose you earned each one?  I remember your Grandpa was so proud of all his ribbons.  How he loved to describe how he won them all!”

“Maybe someday I’ll have as many as Grandpa.”

Essie grabbed the boy’s face between her hands and examined it closely.  Keith calmly allowed his grandma to peruse his features in a way that most young men would probably find very annoying.

“I just can’t get over how much you look like your Grandpa!” she declared.  “Especially now with your hair cut short.”

Keith blushed. 

“You’re getting ready for bed, Grandma,” he said.  “I shouldn’t have popped in on you so late.  Mom said
—”

“It’s fine,” replied Essie.  “I spend half the day in my pajamas.  It means nothing.  Other than I’m old.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  I love getting visitors.  Especially you!  Now, how long do you have before you have to return?”

“Two weeks,” he said.  “When I return, I’m being deployed.”

“Do you know where?”

“Just another US base for now,” he replied, “but when I know more, I’ll let Mom know and she’ll pass it on to you.”

“She’s very proud of you,” said Essie.  “We all are.”

“Thanks, Gram, but I’m nothing special.”

“Your Grandpa always said the same thing
about himself,” said Essie.  She stared at her grandson. The similarity was uncanny. “He always said he was nothing special but what I understood this to mean was that he was just one tiny part of a great big group of very special people.”

“Grandpa was special, Grandma.”

“You probably don’t even remember your Grandpa,” said Essie.  Keith had relaxed and was now sitting comfortably next to her recliner, cross-legged on the floor.

“Of course I do,” said Keith.  He leaned back on the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees.  “I remember Grandpa’s boat.  He used to take me and Ned out on the lake. 
There was this one time that Ned caught this huge fish; it was way bigger than he was.  Ned got all wet trying to bring it in the boat.  I remember trying to help him, but I was really little.  Grandpa probably should have made Ned throw it back, but Ned was determined—you know how he is—and Grandpa wasn’t going to stop him.  That fish was slapping Ned in the face.  We all got totally drenched and in the end, we decided that it was just too big to even try to bring home, but, boy, we all had a great time reeling it in.  And, Grandma, Grandpa was just great.  He helped and he encouraged, but most of all he let us do it ourselves.  He was the best.”

“I’m so happy to hear about this memory you have of your Grandpa,” said Essie.  She smiled as a small tear formed in the corner of her eye. 

“Oh, gee, Gram,” said Keith, leaping up from the floor, “I didn’t want to upset you!”  He reached for a tissue from a box on the end table and handed it to Essie.

“Don’t be silly,” said Essie, taking the tissue and dabbing her eye.  “Happy tears!”

“I probably should be going, Grandma,” said Keith, heading for the door.  “You stay there.  I can see myself out.”  He bent over Essie and placed a tender kiss on her cheek and then headed out.

“Bye, dear!” Essie called after him.

After Keith’s departure, Essie remained in her recliner thinking about her visitor.  Why had she almost fainted when she’d seen Keith at the door?  Yes, her grandson was wearing a uniform and his hair was short and he did resemble John a great deal, but still, it was Keith, and she surely knew it was Keith.  It was as if her senses were playing tricks on her.  She thought back to her game show and the contestant who had appeared to be her dead husband.  She seemed to have John on her mind a great deal.  Of course, it was natural, wasn’t it? For a woman to think wistfully about a deceased spouse.  But she’d never actually seen a ghost of her husband appear before—either face-to-face or on television.  What was going on?  And the time lost?  And the large squirrel? 
Please, please, don’t let this be a sign that I am losing my mind.

At the moment she felt normal
—whatever that meant at age ninety.  The interior of her little apartment was not floating around.  All the items of furniture were where they were supposed to be.  Everything was the color it had always been.  It was dark outside, so she couldn’t see any creatures.  The television was turned off so there was no opportunity for any programming to suddenly turn into a scene from her past.  This was ridiculous!  She couldn’t live her life in fear of some weird vision that might occur, or her mind losing track of time—or worse. 

She lifted herself up from her recliner and scooted over to her walker and headed off into her bedroom.  Other than the loss of time and the strange squirrel, the w
eird occurrences that had happened seemed to center around her dead husband John, she realized.  Why was that?  Was there some significance in the strange events? 

She thought back to
her game show and the contestant who appeared to be John.  When he guessed the puzzle, he looked right at her, or so it seemed.  The puzzle answer was “remember when.”  Was her dead husband trying to tell her something?  Was that his ghost that she’d seen on her show?  Was her husband haunting her?  Or was she being totally ridiculous and allowing the spirit of Halloween to carry her away?  Maybe she just was thinking about John so much recently that everybody seemed to remind her of him.  Maybe that’s why that contestant seemed to be John.  Maybe that’s why she thought her own grandson was John when she saw him at the door.

Essie continued into her bedroom and removed her robe and
slippers and crawled under the covers, leaving her trusty walker beside her nightstand.  Pulling the covers up under her chin, she stared up at the darkened ceiling.  Would any new figments leap out to haunt her tonight?  Would she have any new dreams?  If she did dream anything, she’d better pay close attention, because for all she knew, it might have some underlying meaning.  It might be her late husband trying to tell her something. 

As Essie drifted off, she resolved to make sure to ask DeeDee what day it was first thing in the morning.  She was not going to lose track of another day. 
This is Monday
, she told herself. 
Tomorrow is Tuesday.  Squirrels are small rodents.  My husband is not alive.  I will not let senility take over my life.  I resolve to keep my mind sharp, even though there’s not much I can do about my body.

Nodding to herself, and actually quite pleased that she had developed a plan to fight off whatever it was that seemed to be causing her trouble, Essie finally fell asleep. 

John was wearing his uniform and had a rifle with a bayonet.  He was fighting a large squirrel.  The squirrel was attempting to crawl into a boat and John was pushing it over the side with his bayonet.  He kept crying out, “Remember when!”

Essie was cringing.  She could feel her body shaking and tightening in fear.  She tried to call out to John but no sound would come from her lips.   

Suddenly she awoke and sat up abruptly in her bed.  She looked around her bedroom.  Everything was quiet and dark.  It was obviously the middle of the night.  She had had a bad dream.  Or, at least, that’s what she thought it was.  She peeked over at the mirror on her dresser.  It seemed to hold an entrance into her unconscious mind.  All she could see reflected in its surface was the opposite side of her room, although dark. 

She pulled herself to the edge of her bed and
, grabbing her walker, set her bare feet on the floor and into her slippers.  Pushing herself up, she felt the room sway and she plopped back down on the bed.  She grabbed the bed to steady herself.  Then, determined, she again pushed up and clutching her walker for dear life, she headed slowly into her bathroom.

A quick nighttime potty break finished, Essie stopped at her bathroom mirror over her sink and peeked into it from the side. 
All appeared normal in her reflected bathroom, but as Essie turned away, she felt the room sway as it did back in her bedroom.  Essie reached out for the bathroom wall to keep from falling.  Her hand touched the light switch and as Essie started to slide to the floor, the lights in the little bathroom came on.  The room started to roll, the walls lurching to a strange angle.  The overhead light, now on, began flickering in some sort of strange pattern. 

Essie grasped the handlebars of her walker in a desperate attempt to remain upright, but the rolling of the room was too extreme and she soon slid to the floor.  Holding for dear life to one leg of her walker, she scratched her way towards the bathtub where she could hold on to a firmer surface.  As she used the tub to steady herself against the writhing and rolling of the room, she glanced over at the inside of the tub.  Instead of the rubber mat and shower chair that always sat in the center of her bathtub, now she saw a giant rodent
—the exact same one that had greeted her from inside her dresser mirror the other day.  The big brown creature opened its mouth, exposing a two-tooth grin.  Essie stared in horror at the monster which was seemingly lounging in her bathtub while the entire room roiled in agony.  Essie tried to cry out in horror but, again, her lips could form the words, but no sound came out.  She fell.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

“Dreaming men are haunted men.”

––Stephen Vincent Benet

“Miss Essie!  Miss Essie!”

The familiar voice seemed to be calling to her from a great distance.  She hated to respond because the horrible experience with the giant rodent in her
bathtub had transformed into another beautiful memory of John.  This one was of one of the parties they had attended at the Reardon National Bank soon after John had been made Vice President.  She remembered it was the holiday season and the Reardon bank was all decked out in holly and sparkling finery.  She and John were dancing to a live band that was playing marvelous music.  She could actually feel John’s arms around her waist and her chin on his shoulder.

“Miss Essie!” the voice again interrupted the scene.  “Are you all right?  I can’t believe you’re still asleep!”

Essie’s eyes popped open.  DeeDee was staring down at her. 

“DeeDee!  What time is it?
What day is it?”

“Way past your regular wake-up time, Essie,” said her aide with a look of concern in her eyes.
“And it’s Tuesday morning.” DeeDee gently pulled back Essie’s flowered duvet and reached out her hands to help Essie to the side of her bed.  Essie hesitated.

“I hate to get up!”

“What?” exclaimed her aide.  “You’re usually ready to hop out of bed.  I’m lucky if I can get here before you start dressing yourself.”

“I don’t know, DeeDee,” replied Essie.  “I was having such a good
…dream.”

“Oh.  One of those,” said DeeDee, nodding knowingly.  She helped Essie pull her feet to the floor and started their morning routine of getting Essie dressed.

“I hardly ever dream about my late husband, DeeDee,” said Essie pensively as she sat on the side of her bed, staring out, “but lately, I seem to see him everywhere.”  She smiled coyly at her aide. 

“Is that so bad?” asked DeeDee, whisking her bedclothes to a side chair and expertly helping Essie into her bra and panties. 

“No,” said Essie, “it’s just that he seems to be popping up when I least expect him.” 

“Something must have reminded you of him,” suggested DeeDee as she ordered Essie to lift her arms and slid her pullover top on.

“My grandson Keith came by last night,” offered Essie.  “When he showed up at my door, I almost fainted.  He was wearing his uniform and his hair was in a crew-cut.  DeeDee, he looked almost exactly like I remember John looking when he first signed up for the service.”

“Oh, my!” replied DeeDee, wide-eyed.  “That does sound creepy.  No wonder you
’re dreaming about him.  But it’s good, Essie.  Good dreams, right?”

“Mostly,” she said, looking down and scowling.

“What do you mean, mostly?”

“Mostly except for the rolling room and the giant rodent,” Essie replied.  She peered up at DeeDee over the top of her glasses that DeeDee had just handed her from her end table.

“You’re dreaming about giant rodents?” asked DeeDee, sitting next to Essie on her bed.

“More than just dreaming,” admitted Essie.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, DeeDee,” said Essie, cringing.  “I’m afraid I might be going crazy, or senile.  I’m seeing things during the day.  Not just dreaming at night.”

“Now wait a minute, Essie,” said DeeDee, turning to Essie on the bed and grabbing her shoulders.  “Have you talked to anyone about this?”

“Not really,” said Essie.  “Well, maybe my friends
—Marjorie, Opal, and Fay—at lunch.  And Lorena.  I guess I must have forgotten a whole day too.”

“Hmm,” replied DeeDee, “you have been a little strange lately, Essie.  You mean you lost track of time
—”

“And I’ve been seeing strange things,” said Essie.  “I’m really getting worried.”

“You need to tell your doctor,” said DeeDee.  “This isn’t something trivial.  It might be serious and if you’re seeing strange things during the day and losing track of time, your doctor needs to know.  I’m going to let the head nurse know—”

“No!” cried Essie.  “Please, DeeDee!  Don’t tell on me!  It’s probably just something I ate.  I’m feeling much better this morning.  Look!  I can stand up just fine!”  And with that, Essie pushed DeeDee’s hand off of her and rose on her own without the aid of her walker. 

“But, Essie,” said DeeDee, “physical stability isn’t the same thing as…”

“As mental stability?  I know, DeeDee.  You think I have
Alzheimer’s, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that, Essie,” replied DeeDee, her hand on Essie’s shoulder.  “There are all sorts of things that could cause you to have these symptoms, but whatever they are, you can’t just ignore them.  We need someone
to check you out.”

“I’m sure I’ll be better today,” insisted Essie.  “Why don’t we go out in my living room and you can test me.  I’ll do the daily puzzle for you to prove that I’m still mentally stable.”

“Essie,” said DeeDee calmly, her hand still firmly on Essie’s shoulder.  “No one doubts your intelligence.  This isn’t the same thing.  You know it.”    She grabbed Essie’s other shoulder and stared directly into Essie’s face.  “We need to get you checked out.”

“Oh, all right,” replied Essie.  “But don’t tell my daughters!  They’ll just panic.”

“I won’t do that,” said DeeDee.  “I’ll have the head nurse come check on you sometime today.  How’s that?”

“I guess it’s okay,” said Essie. 

“Good,” replied DeeDee, rising.  “Now, let’s get your morning meds and you can head off for breakfast.  It’s getting late and I know you don’t want to miss eating with your pals.”

“How late is it?” asked Essie, reaching over to the end table for her wristwatch.  “Oh, percolating participles!  I’m really late!”   She rose and pushed her walker quickly into the living room.  DeeDee followed and veered off to the kitchen to prepare her morning pills.  Essie rolled over to the recliner and plopped down, picking up her clipboard.

“See, DeeDee!” she called out to her aide, who was standing in her kitchenette talking quietly on her cell phone.  “I finished this puzzle last night!  All the squares are filled in!  Pretty good for an old gal, right?”

DeeDee finished her short call and came over to Essie, glass and pills in hand.  Essie took the meds from her aide and quickly downed them without complaint. 

“Essie, you are the puzzle whiz!” replied DeeDee.  “I could never figure those things out.  I don’t know how you do it.”

“Ick! I still hate that powder stuff,” she said.  “I’m going to tell Doctor Graves the next time I see him to prescribe a different brand
—one that doesn’t taste like sand.”

“You’re a trouper, Essie,” said DeeDee, smiling.  The doorbell rang.

“Tooting tarantulas!” cried Essie.  “Who’d come ringing my doorbell before breakfast?”

“It’s just Nancy,” replied DeeDee, going quickly to the door and opening it.  “I called her to come see you.”

“Oh, DeeDee,” chided Essie.  “That wasn’t necessary.” 

DeeDee opened the door and a woman wearing green scrub pants and a flowered top entered.  She had a stethoscope around her neck and carried a
medical case.

“Miss Essie!” she said in greeting.  “DeeDee tells me you’re having bad dreams?  Even during the day?  Is that right?” 

“Oh, Nancy,” said Essie from her recliner.  “DeeDee shouldn’t have bothered you.  I’m just fine.  I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.  You know, sometimes you get a bad pickle and it makes you see things.”  Essie mumbled her excuse as Nancy smiled and bent down next to Essie’s recliner and applied her stethoscope to Essie’s chest.

“Sounds good!” she pronounced.  “You just saw your
doctor recently?”

“I did,” said Essie.  “He said I’m fine.  He didn’t even weigh me.”  She beamed proudly as if not being weighed was a sign of extremely good results at a doctor visit.

“Goodness,” said Nancy, smiling.  She looked in Essie’s eyes and ears and asked her to open her mouth.  She had Essie respond to questions regarding the number of fingers she was holding up and the direction they were moving.  Essie had been given these types of questions many times before at various doctor visits. 

“Tell me, Essie,” said Nancy, “just what sort of symptoms have you been having?”

“Oh, nothing much,” replied Essie, laughing.  “I’ve just been having some strange dreams…or daydreams, I guess.”

“You mean, dreams you remember when you wake up?” asked the nurse.

“Yes,” said Essie, “but more than that.  Dreams or…I’m not sure what…seeing things sometimes.”

“Like what?” Nancy asked.  “What do you see?”

“Things I know aren’t really there,” replied Essie.  “So they must be dreams, right?  Oh, I hope I don’t have Alzheimer’s!”

“Essie, now let’s don’t jump to conclusions!” replied Nancy.

“That’s what DeeDee said,” sighed Essie.  “But what else can it be when you see giant squirrels in your mirror?”

“You see giant squirrels in your mirror?” asked the nurse cautiously.

“Yes,” squeaked Essie.  “And once in my bathtub.”

“You were dreaming this?” asked the nurse, attempting to clarify.

“No!” cried Essie.  “I wish I were dreaming it!  But it really happened.  Or I think it really happened.  Oh, I just don’t know.  I’m so confused!”  Essie put her head in her hands in anguish.

“Oh, Essie,” said Nancy, her hand on Essie’s shoulder.  DeeDee bent down and also touched her arm.

“She’s really upset about this,” said DeeDee to the head nurse.

“It’s very strange,” replied Nancy.  “She’s never one to complain.  Always so stoic.”

“I know,” replied DeeDee.  “What do you think is going on?”

“I don’t know,” said
Nancy, “but, I’m going to find out.  You keep an eye on her, DeeDee.” 

“Should I stay with her?”

“No,” said Nancy.  “But we should check in with her.  Essie, are you able to get to breakfast on your own?”

“Of course I am,” replied Essie, pulling away from the two women and pushing herself out of her recliner.  “And it’s really late so I’d better go or I won’t get anything to eat.”

“I won’t let that happen, Essie,” said Nancy.  “I’ll make sure they keep the kitchen open for you, if I have to.”  She gave Essie a little hug. Evidently, reasoned Essie, she had passed Nancy’s brief examination. “Everything looks good, Essie, but if you experience any more of these weird symptoms, I want you to contact me right away.  Here’s my direct line.” 

Nancy handed Essie a small business card.
  Then she headed out the door.

“Okay, Miss Essie,” said DeeDee, “you’d better get going to breakfast.  But we’ll be checking up on you.  And don’t be despondent.  If anyone can get to the bottom of these weird dreams or whatever you’re having, it’s Nancy.  You have a great day!” 

DeeDee had cleaned up the medicine glass and placed it in the drainer in her sink.  She’d put the pill bottles back in their locked box and up in the cupboard.  Then she’d headed out Essie’s front door.

Essie remained sitting in her recliner. 
Her heart was beating really fast.  She knew she still had time to get to breakfast—and even if she didn’t make it in time, Nancy would tell the kitchen to stay open for her.  Of course, she wanted to get there before Opal, Marjorie, and Fay left.  They would all want to see her and she had a lot to tell them.  But it was hard to actually leave her room.  She looked around.  Why was this all happening to her? 

Yes, she was ninety years old, but up until this moment, she’d never experienced any age-related mental flaw.  She had always prided herself on her cleverness and her sharp wit.  After all, she was Happy Haven’s detective.  She had deduced numerous mysteries
—and now here she was with the biggest mystery of all.  What was happening to her?  To Essie Cobb, Senior Sleuth?  And why couldn’t she figure it out?