The Time of Her Life (14 page)

Susanna wanted to calm the woman, allay her fears if not her
confusion. “Let’s check this way.”

“Yes, let’s do. We have to find him. Will he be in my room? Is
that where my room is?”

Truthfully, Susanna didn’t have a clue. Somewhere behind these
security doors. That much she did know. Falling into step next to Millie, they
headed back the way Susanna had come.

Millie moved along at a surprisingly spry pace, which explained
the need for a strolling walker. Likely not for support, but protection as
Millie tooled through these halls at top speed, apparently in and out of
strangers’ rooms.

Arriving at the end of the hall, they were in sight of the
empty nurses’ station when Millie let out a soft cry.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, he left. He left me.” She lifted her panicked
expression to Susanna’s and burst into tears. “He’s gone to see Jesus without
me.”

Millie sank onto the walker seat as if her legs had turned to
rubber. Big tears squeezed from beneath tightly shut eyes. Her voice was a
broken whisper as she chanted, “Sweet Jesus, have mercy on us, have mercy on us,
have mercy on us.”

Susanna sank to her knees and wrapped her hands around the knot
of tightly held fingers. “Have mercy on us,” she joined the prayer, their voices
no more than a whisper.

Praying seemed to calm Millie, and Susanna watched the
transformation until her knees ached. Millie finally took a shallow breath, then
another. “He’ll help me find him.”

Susanna knew whom Millie meant. “He will.”

Millie lifted teary eyes to Susanna, bringing to mind the
memory of the time Brandon had pulled free of her grip and run off during a trip
to Home Depot. He’d been mischievous and laughing as he tore off on his sturdy
little legs for the chase. By the time Susanna had gotten to the end of the
aisle, he’d vanished. Ten endless minutes and a dozen gray hairs later, she’d
found her son cowering inside a garden shed display, a small boy who’d
apparently suddenly realized he was alone.

“He will, Millie. No worries.”

Kimberly caught sight of them as she pushed her cart around the
corner. “Mrs. Carlson, what are you doing down here?”

Millie Carlson.
Susanna pushed
herself up on creaking knees. “We were looking for Mrs. Carlson’s husband.”

Kimberly nodded. “Well, you won’t find him down here. Try room
112. Bed by the window. Unless you’ve changed your mind and want to go to the
memory service, Mrs. Carlson. You always like the balloons. Why don’t you get
out and get some fresh air.”

“I love balloons.” Mrs. Carlson perked up and a beaming smile
broke through her tears like the sun from behind the clouds on a rainy day.
“They go straight up to Jesus.”

“That’s right. They do,” Kimberly agreed. “You want to go?”

“Oh, I do, honey. I do.”

“I’m heading that way,” Susanna offered.

Kimberly smiled. “I’ll let Henry know where she is. Just hook
her up with Cheyenne down there. She’s got some of our crew there already.
She’ll be sure Mrs. Carlson makes it back.”

“Thanks, Kimberly. Come on, Mrs. Carlson. This way.”

Susanna motioned in the direction of the front lobby then had
to hustle to keep up. She wondered if Jay had arrived by now or if they were
waiting on her.

* * *

T
HE
MEMORY
SERVICE
? Jay overheard the conversation and realized he had
completely forgotten it. A quick glance at his watch confirmed he was late.

“Now what are you doing in those trees, Mr. C?” Kimberly fixed
him with a quizzical gaze as he stepped from behind a bushy corn plant that
would need to be repotted soon.

She glanced over her shoulder at Susanna and Mrs. Carlson
making their way down the hall. “Oh. Spying. Got it.”

“
Not
spying.”

Kimberly pursed her mouth. “Guess you miss hiding in the bushes
like you did when you were a kid. That it?”

“Something like that,” he muttered beneath his breath as he
sidestepped the med dispenser cart and started after Susanna.

“Be happy to fill you in with reports about your replacement,
you know. Just say the word. We’re all keeping our eyes on her, anyway.”

“Not necessary.” Jay wasn’t embarrassed exactly, but not
feeling the need to explain, either.

Wouldn’t do any good. They all knew him too well. He’d come in
through the employee door and was heading back to Walter’s office when he’d
heard Susanna’s voice. That was all. He couldn’t have walked past without
interrupting them, and he hadn’t wanted to do that. Not when Susanna had been
doing such a bang-up job calming down Mrs. Carlson.

But Kimberly would think what Kimberly wanted to think then
she’d share it with the rest of the caregivers in the break room.

Jay didn’t bother with a reply but propelled himself into
motion. Had he ever before forgotten a service? None that he could remember,
which either testified to his turmoil about Susanna or proof he was exhibiting
early-onset Alzheimer’s symptoms. Not unheard-of at his age, unfortunately, and
with a family history like his....

His head had been buzzing after his conversation with Gerald,
which was the only reason Jay had almost bowled right into Mrs. Carlson, anyway.
He hadn’t even seen Susanna crouched beside the walker. Not at first. Not until
he’d heard her voice, all brisk northern wind and hushed reverence, as steady
and reassuring as Mrs. Carlson’s had been fretful.

Mrs. Carlson was prone to panic spells, and Jay could easily
imagine the scene Susanna had encountered. Mrs. Carlson was all about thanking
Jesus for her every blessing and laughing with a childlike joy that had earned
her resident of the month many times over during her years at The Arbors. But
when the confusion set in, panic and fear were always right behind it.

Susanna’s actions had been both unexpected and appropriate. She
hadn’t tried reasoning, which so many who were unfamiliar with Alzheimer’s
tried. Not usually staff, of course, because no one applied for a job without
Alzheimer’s qualifications.

Jay was quite explicit in his requirements on the website to
the various job search agencies he worked with. But most families weren’t
blessed with medical history like Jay’s family, which was why he and Kimberly
conducted a series of mandatory basic management classes for the families of all
new residents.

Understanding behaviors and good management skills were
essential to successful handling of loved ones who suffered from Alzheimer’s—for
the resident and for the family members. Most of those skills involved correct
understanding of the disease, common sense and caring.

Susanna had handled Mrs. Carlson with all three.

Inputting his passcode, Jay slipped through the doors before
they’d barely opened and wound up hidden in the palm trees when he saw the large
group of people congregated outside in the circle driveway.

The earth hadn’t stopped revolving, and the service had gone on
without him.

The scene was familiar but for the woman who stood beside the
fountain addressing the group, sandwiched between Reverend Martin and Tessa. And
Mrs. Carlson, whom Susanna seemed to have recruited as an assistant, judging by
the scrapbooks Mrs. Carlson held stacked in her lap, which Jay knew contained
memorabilia for the families who’d lost their loved ones.

For a moment all Jay could see was how natural Susanna looked
there, an adornment that had been plunked down into the setting on purpose.
Susanna’s silky dark hair caught the sunlight, a smile lingering around her full
mouth as she delivered the perfect words to make her audience smile, too.

She looked as
right
standing there
as he felt
wrong
hiding in the potted plants instead
of welcoming the families of residents he—not Susanna—had cared for. She didn’t
know who those folks had been before they’d died, before Alzheimer’s had robbed
them of every shred of personality that made them
them.

As Jay watched Susanna turn the service over to the preacher,
who would give a blessing, he could hear Gerald’s voice.
“She needs The Arbors.”

Gerald had been right about one thing, as much as Jay hated to
admit it. The best person to entrust administration of this place would be one
who would invest herself with the most important asset of all.

The compassion to care.

Jay had just witnessed the caring firsthand.

* * *

S
USANNA
STARED
AT
J
AY
.
His chiseled features were unfamiliar in the glare
of the floodlights surrounding the circle driveway, the only light besides the
crescent moon.

Confrontation was coming.

She knew it with every fiber of her being. The only thing
saving her right now was that the Olivanti family was still loading up in the
car after a late-night facility visit, and Jay was too professional to air
grievances in front of a potential resident’s family.

In the days since he’d agreed to proceed with the transition if
she agreed to be mentored, Susanna had learned to recognize when he was gearing
up for battle. Of course she wanted to learn everything he had to share, but her
agreement had subtly shifted the balance of power in their relationship.

Jay was a bit of a bully.

As far as he was concerned, he knew what was best for The
Arbors in all circumstances and seemed determined to bring Northstar around to
his way of thinking rather than work to come up with an effective
compromise.

Susanna was growing concerned his attitude would undermine the
entire process of a smooth transition and hoped this resistance was only a
knee-jerk reaction to her inexperience. She was trying to ride out the storm, so
to speak.

Unfortunately, she also had a niggling suspicion the real
trouble was Jay. Her inexperience had only given him something tangible to latch
onto because he wasn’t at peace about leaving, which was why he’d been
micromanaging from the start.

Things
would
have to change if the
acquisition happened. Whether Northstar took over or another corporation.
Whether she picked up the reins as property administrator or someone else did.
The only way to maintain the status quo was for Jay to stay.

Or clone himself.

She wondered if he’d thought of that.

Exhaling heavily, she stood beside him, so aware of his tall
presence in the cool night, the way the overhead lamps cast shadows that made
him seem taller and bigger than he was. More masculine. Which he had in spades
on a normal day.

Finally, the last of Mr. Olivanti’s entourage drove away. The
twinkle of red taillights hadn’t yet faded into darkness before Jay asked, “Why
did you have Mr. Llewellyn’s recliner moved? Chester mentioned it this morning,
but I forgot until we were in his room with Mr. Olivanti’s son.”

Here it was—the confrontation she’d known was coming.

“The chair was in the middle of the room, Jay, right between
Mr. Llewellyn’s bed and Mr. Shepherd’s.”

“And?”

“
And
it was blocking the room
divider and obstructing the walkway.”

Jay stared at her for a suspended moment, his eyes so dark in
the shadows they might have belonged to a stranger. “Mr. Llewellyn’s chair
wasn’t infringing on the easement. Lots of residents in the nursing center share
their televisions, and Mr. Shepherd doesn’t mind. Trust me on this. He has a
macular problem. He can’t even see the television.”

“I understand you want to accommodate the residents. I want to
accommodate them, too. But not by creating liability.”

He gave a slight shake of his head, as if he wasn’t sure he’d
heard her correctly. “You’re worried about liability?”

“Yes.” He should be, too.

“This is memory care, Susanna. If we worried about every little
thing that might go wrong, we wouldn’t be able to provide any quality of life
for our residents. We’d keep them locked in their rooms all day.”

It was the smile playing at the corners of his mouth, his
obvious condescension, which irked her so completely. “You’re saying we
shouldn’t adhere to precautions for the residents’ safety? Is that the lesson
here?”

“No. No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying there are no
hard-and-fast rules. You can’t legislate common sense with corporate guidelines
and legal worries.”

Susanna may not have years as an administrator behind her, but
she knew Northstar policy and procedure. That’s where they needed to wind
up—with an acceptable compromise. Toward that end, she’d welcomed Jay’s
instruction, had gracefully allowed their relationship to transform into one of
mentor and protégé.

But to keep on equal footing, she had to educate him in the
policies and procedures of corporate senior living. They both brought something
to the table, but this man seemed determined to dig in his heels about the
simplest things. She resisted the urge to ask him—again—why he was leaving The
Arbors since he didn’t want anything to change. Then at least she could stop
obsessing and trying to figure out why he wanted to leave.

And help reassure him, if there was any way she could.

Maybe the tension only seemed magnified tonight because of the
lateness. During the day, there’d have been a thousand other distractions to
force them to deal with an issue and move on.

Right now there was just Susanna and Jay and Mr. Llewellyn’s
recliner.

The night was clear, the floodlights silvering the circle
driveway and casting everything beyond into a black void. She and Jay were the
only two specks in the light.

Maybe it was the hour, a time when normal people were in bed,
asleep, wrapped around loved ones, legs twined together under the sheets,
breaths hushed in the quiet.