too.”
It had been a very long, odd day, and in this silent nursing home filled with empty corridors and snoring patients, Elizabeth began to feel as if she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. “Perhaps he deserves to suffer. Perhaps he thinks she’s here because he’s guilty and he knows it.”
“Perhaps.” Yvonne seemed none-too-worried about Elizabeth’s skepticism. “You’re stuck here tonight, I think.”
Elizabeth thought of the treacherous road back to town, and what was left of her apartment. She looked at her hand, still wrapped in a stiff, dried blood bandage. “I … yes, I think so. If you have extra blankets, I can sleep anywhere.”
“We’ve got the staff bathroom where you can shower, and sack out in the room behind the nurses’ station. We all use it when we pull a double shift and have to catch a few hours of shut-eye. The cot isn’t any too comfortable, but it’s better than nothing.”
“But if I sleep there, you won’t be able to lie down.”
Yvonne sighed. “I can’t lie down anyway. There’s no staff to replace me. What did you do to your hand?”
“Glass. During the earthquake.”
“Come on. I’ll look at it.” Yvonne led her to the nurses’ station at the junction of three long corridors, and peeled off the bandage. While Elizabeth steadfastly stared over Yvonne’s head, she examined the cut. “It’s deep,” Yvonne said. “You really need a doctor, but you’re stuck with the medical staff we have here.” She glanced at Elizabeth’s stiff face. “Don’t worry, we’re good. Here, I’ll page Sheila. Even after all these hours on duty, she’s got a steady hand. Of course, she’s younger than me.”
Yvonne did have dark circles under her eyes, her brown hair hung limply in a ponytail down her back, and when she was not animated, her jaw sagged as if keeping it tightly closed was too much effort. But no matter what, she looked kind, and remembering how thoroughly she had championed Charles Banner, Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a warmth for the woman, reluctant perhaps, but real nonetheless.
Elizabeth gazed around at the long, dim corridors that seemed to stretch forever, and said, “I suppose, in this lonely atmosphere where minds silently leave the body early, reality and fantasy are blended, and death picks off the living one by one … I suppose ghosts can slip unseen along the halls.” She stopped, startled to hear herself say such things.
Yvonne gazed at her almost fondly. “I did not believe what they say in town, that you’re all science and smarts without a lick of emotion. I guess I was right.”
“I suppose I, um, have the occasional lick.” Although Elizabeth didn’t want to, she glanced toward her father’s room. She didn’t want to have any emotion at all. Pleasant emotion—hope and love—always backfired and became pain. Always. “Do you know, is your family and your home okay?”
“My husband’s a trucker, and on the road, so he’s fine. The kids are grown and out of state. We’ve been meaning to take out the cedar that sits close to the house because it leans, and it’s probably landed on the roof. But it will be what it will be.” Yet Yvonne sighed and glanced toward the windows as if to bely her untroubled attitude. Then she looked at Elizabeth, and her eyes sharpened. “What about you?”
“My apartment’s gone. I don’t know where I’ll stay after tonight. A shelter, I suppose.”
“Stay at the resort.”
“The resort? Virtue Falls Resort?” Elizabeth blinked. “I can’t do that.”
“Didn’t I hear you were married to old Mrs. Smith’s foster son?” At the shock on Elizabeth’s face, Yvonne laughed. “Your father told me.”
“How did he know?”
“Prisoners do have access to the Internet, and you are his daughter. He kept up with you. Knew all about how you graduated from high school a year early, and your studies and degrees. He knew when you took this job, and he was tickled about it.”
It had been a very long, odd day, and in this silent nursing home filled with empty corridors and snoring patients, Elizabeth began to feel as if she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. “Perhaps he deserves to suffer. Perhaps he thinks she’s here because he’s guilty and he knows it.”
“Perhaps.” Yvonne seemed none-too-worried about Elizabeth’s skepticism. “You’re stuck here tonight, I think.”
Elizabeth thought of the treacherous road back to town, and what was left of her apartment. She looked at her hand, still wrapped in a stiff, dried blood bandage. “I … yes, I think so. If you have extra blankets, I can sleep anywhere.”
“We’ve got the staff bathroom where you can shower, and sack out in the room behind the nurses’ station. We all use it when we pull a double shift and have to catch a few hours of shut-eye. The cot isn’t any too comfortable, but it’s better than nothing.”
“But if I sleep there, you won’t be able to lie down.”
Yvonne sighed. “I can’t lie down anyway. There’s no staff to replace me. What did you do to your hand?”
“Glass. During the earthquake.”
“Come on. I’ll look at it.” Yvonne led her to the nurses’ station at the junction of three long corridors, and peeled off the bandage. While Elizabeth steadfastly stared over Yvonne’s head, she examined the cut. “It’s deep,” Yvonne said. “You really need a doctor, but you’re stuck with the medical staff we have here.” She glanced at Elizabeth’s stiff face. “Don’t worry, we’re good. Here, I’ll page Sheila. Even after all these hours on duty, she’s got a steady hand. Of course, she’s younger than me.”
Yvonne did have dark circles under her eyes, her brown hair hung limply in a ponytail down her back, and when she was not animated, her jaw sagged as if keeping it tightly closed was too much effort. But no matter what, she looked kind, and remembering how thoroughly she had championed Charles Banner, Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a warmth for the woman, reluctant perhaps, but real nonetheless.
Elizabeth gazed around at the long, dim corridors that seemed to stretch forever, and said, “I suppose, in this lonely atmosphere where minds silently leave the body early, reality and fantasy are blended, and death picks off the living one by one … I suppose ghosts can slip unseen along the halls.” She stopped, startled to hear herself say such things.
Yvonne gazed at her almost fondly. “I did not believe what they say in town, that you’re all science and smarts without a lick of emotion. I guess I was right.”
“I suppose I, um, have the occasional lick.” Although Elizabeth didn’t want to, she glanced toward her father’s room. She didn’t want to have any emotion at all. Pleasant emotion—hope and love—always backfired and became pain. Always. “Do you know, is your family and your home okay?”
“My husband’s a trucker, and on the road, so he’s fine. The kids are grown and out of state. We’ve been meaning to take out the cedar that sits close to the house because it leans, and it’s probably landed on the roof. But it will be what it will be.” Yet Yvonne sighed and glanced toward the windows as if to bely her untroubled attitude. Then she looked at Elizabeth, and her eyes sharpened. “What about you?”
“My apartment’s gone. I don’t know where I’ll stay after tonight. A shelter, I suppose.”
“Stay at the resort.”
“The resort? Virtue Falls Resort?” Elizabeth blinked. “I can’t do that.”
“Didn’t I hear you were married to old Mrs. Smith’s foster son?” At the shock on Elizabeth’s face, Yvonne laughed. “Your father told me.”
“How did he know?”
“Prisoners do have access to the Internet, and you are his daughter. He kept up with you. Knew all about how you graduated from high school a year early, and your studies and degrees. He knew when you took this job, and he was tickled about it.”
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