Scarred Wolf by Charlene Hartnady

13

Everleigh

“Mrs. Arbuthnot?”I ask softly, treading quietly toward where the small figure is curled up on the bed beneath a thin gray blanket. The blanket is old and threadbare, which makes me frown. This place is high-end, yet somehow there’s never enough funding to upgrade any of the furnishings anymore. “Hello?” I press. There’s no response, but I see the shape shudder at the sound of my voice. I reach the bedside and lean over her. “Mrs. Arbuthnot,” I say again. “Livvy?”

She shifts slightly and I look into faded blue eyes swimming with tears. She turns slightly and stares up into my face, extending frail arms. “Mama?” she whimpers, and I bite back a small sigh, then sit on her bedside and gather her into my arms. She’s as light and fragile as a child. And right now, in her mind, that’s exactly what she is. “Mama,” she whimpers again, and I feel her sobbing against my chest.

“It’s okay, Livvy,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “I got you.” I sit silently for several minutes, simply soothing the grieving woman. There’s movement in the doorway and I look up to see Hilary standing there, one hand on her hip. The other is holding a tray with several small cups on it.

“Time for her meds,” she barks, marching into her room. Mrs. Arbuthnot stirs against me, pressing closer anxiously.

“No!” I hear her groan against my chest. “No. No!”

Hilary makes a grab for her arm, oblivious to the fact that I’m sitting there. Her fingers close roughly around the older woman’s bicep, and she pulls her away, even though Mrs. Arbuthnot is clinging to me like a small, terrified creature.

“Hello, Hilary,” I greet her, though she hasn’t bothered to do me the same favor. I don’t know what this woman’s problem is, but I hate the way she behaves around our elderly patients. “It’s okay, I’ll give it to her.” I try.

Hilary sets her mouth in a tight line. She’d be pretty if she didn’t walk around with such a mean expression all the time. I imagine it’s going to be permanently etched onto her features. One day, she’ll be as ugly on the outside as she is within. She sneers at me now, giving a shake of her head.

“No can do, nurse,” she says dismissively. “I dispense the meds.” She still has her hand on Mrs. Arbuthnot’s arm and she’s dragging her away from me.

“I already took ‘em!” Mrs. Arbuthnot cries out. “I took ‘em! I took ‘em!”

Hilary shoots a look at me, then turns her eyes back to our patient. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She glances at me. “She’s having another one of her episodes.” She has the rim of the cup pressed against Mrs. Arbuthnot’s lips and is trying to pry them open to empty the contents into her mouth. Mrs. Arbuthnot tries shaking her head, but Hilary grabs her by the hair and holds her still. I don’t know who gasps louder, me or our patient.

“Hilary!” I say firmly. “I’ll take it from here.” I don’t want to cause a scene, and the fact is, this is my boss. But she has no right to behave this way. I feel a swirl of something hot in my chest.

“Mind yourself, Nurse Miller,” Hilary grinds out between clenched teeth. “This is not your place to interfere. Get out of my way so I can do my job.” She reaches out, puts her hand on my chest, and gives me a shove. My eyes narrow in anger. Is she shoving me away? The heat in my chest grows hotter. Red hot. Red hot rage bubbles up inside me.

I curl a protective arm around Mrs. Arbuthnot, who is still clutching at me. I reach for Hilary’s arm, grasp her wrist, and stop her. “I said, I would take it from here,” I say again. My tone is no longer firm. It’s a low, menacing growl. Hilary’s eyes widen in shock. Heck, I’m shocked. What am I doing? But I can’t help myself. My protective instincts surge. I feel the bones of Hilary’s wrist grinding slightly in my grip, but I don’t release it. Our eyes are locked, and her face is pale now. There’s something ugly in her pale stare, but there’s fear there, too. I feel her back down, and she puts the medicine cup on the table beside the bed. I release my grasp, and she pulls her arm toward her chest, rubbing her wrist.

“Make sure she takes them,” she mutters darkly. “And then I want you in my office. Immediately!” She spins on her heel and stalks out of the bedroom.

I wait a minute or two for Mrs. Arbuthnot to settle, then glance down at her. She’s looking up at me, her face finally calm. The blue eyes are now lucid. “I did take them this morning, Evie. I did!” her voice is low and earnest. “She always brings me extra. I don’t know why.”

I frown as I stare at her, mulling her words over. She’s in her right mind now, and I’m certain she’s not making this up. I smooth her hair gently, then straighten the edge of her pink nightgown over her shoulder. There’s an ugly mark on her collarbone, and I surreptitiously examine it as I settle her against her pillows, fluffing them around her. The mark looks like…fingerprints. Ugly red fingerprints. And I have a feeling I know how they got there.

“There there, Mrs. A,” I say kindly. “I believe you.” And I do. “There’s no need to worry about anything. I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re a lovely girl, Evie,” she says as she lays back. Her face is warmed by a light smile. “I don’t mean to act out. I really don’t. But sometimes…sometimes things get so fuzzy.” She heaves a little sigh, and I pat her hand.

“Don’t you worry about it, Mrs. A,” I murmur. “Everyone feels fuzzy occasionally.” I’m telling the truth. I’ve had more than one moment which left me reeling in confusion. The incident with Jaxon last night would be top of the list. Though it doesn’t seem appropriate to be thinking of my new tenant right now. The man leaves me downright…unsettled; hot, but in a different kind of way. There are so many unanswered questions surrounding him, like how he got that scar. Why was he so cagey about it? It looks like a wild animal got hold of him, but how can that be?

“I’m just sad,” she goes on, bringing me out of my own head. “I miss him, you know? Mr. Harding. He was my…friend.”

“I know, Mrs. A. I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say sincerely. Just because these old souls are patients here doesn’t mean they don’t form firm connections. Sometimes they have nobody else. It’s cruel to imagine they’d live out their lives here without caring for each other. It’s just as bad to imagine looking after them each day without allowing them into our hearts. Hilary should not be working here.

The thought of the woman stiffens my back, and I get up abruptly. I reach for the medication, cast a quick look to the doorway, then step over to the small basin in the corner of the room and tip the contents of the cup down the drain.

“Rest up, Mrs. A,” I say over my shoulder to where she’s nestling into her bed. “You’ll feel better once you’ve had some sleep.” She nods tiredly. Already her eyelids are drooping. I’m so glad she didn’t get the extra medication – she would have been downright comatose by now.

It seems strange how often that happens of late.

I’ve been working here for years, but in the past months, things have grown increasingly subdued. Our charges may be elderly, but there’s still life in these lovely old folks. I’ve led bingo tournaments that almost got out of hand. And Mrs. Arbuthnot herself once threw an impromptu pool party that almost had the Board throwing a fit. I watch her dozing off now, her face peaceful as sleep descends. She must have been quite beautiful once. She still is.

* * *

“But Hilary—”

“That’s Matron to you! And consider this an official warning, Nurse Miller!” Hilary bites out. Her face is flushed with fury, and I imagine she’s spent the minutes since we parted fuming in her office. She already has a letter printed out and is sliding it toward me across her desk. The male nurse she hangs around with is standing awkwardly in the corner, his hands clasped in front of him. I’m assuming he was called in as a witness to the exchange.

“If you ever…ever dare to contradict me again, I’ll be calling you before the Board. Do you understand?” she hisses.

“She was just upset, Matron,” I respond. Normally I’d be nodding meekly, but today, something inside me won’t back down. “She simply needed comforting.”

“Did you not just hear me?” she all but shrieks. I stand my ground, which only seems to incense her more. “I decide what course of action our inmates require. I decide if they need medication or…comforting.” She spits the word.

“They’re not inmates,” I bite back. “They are patients…clients. Our guests. We should be treating them as such.” That red heat is back, and something presses me on. “Mrs. Arbuthnot told me you already gave her medication this morning. Why would you bring her more? What’s going on?”

The words seem to stop Hilary in her tracks. She stares at me for a second. That ugliness is back in her eyes. “I did no such thing. The old woman is crazy. You’ve witnessed that fact with your own eyes and more than once. And this meeting is over,” she says hoarsely. The words are so low, I almost have to lean closer to hear her voice. Although my senses seem to be tingling on high alert right now, every sound, every image seems to be intensified. I can practically smell her.

And I smell fear. Fury. Equal measures of both. I can smell that she had oatmeal for breakfast. It must be my imagination. That’s just not possible!

I pull myself together. This is crazy thinking. Who the heck smells fear? She’s flapping the piece of paper at me.

“Sign this. Ed here will witness it. Then I want you to get out of my sight,” she snaps. “Just remember, Nurse Miller, your job is on the line. I can make sure you’re out on the street.” She’s talking tough, but I can see she’s rattled. Good. Let her be rattled. I’m done with watching her bully helpless people.

I grab a pen off her desk, dash off a signature, and then fix her with a stare. She looks away abruptly, then hides her discomfort by turning her back on me. I know I’ve made an enemy here, but I don’t care. Screw her. She’s up to something. And I’m going to get to the bottom of it. This bitch had better watch out because I’m onto her.