And while that’s all horrible—and relatable—what really tugs at my heartstrings is what happened to Margie’s only child.
At two years old, baby Louise was kidnapped from their backyard. She was missing for three days before they found her body, and when they did, well, it makes my stomach roll to think about what that sweet little angel went through.
It wrecked Margie, completely ruined her, and she blamed herself for the rest of her life. Which is why it makes so much sense that when she started to slip into advanced stage Alzheimer’s, her mind tried to take her to a place that was a little safer but still scary at times.
So yeah, my heart hurts for Mrs. Sanderson, and that is exactly why I’m always the one to help her, even if it means I could get lectured for doing so.
“I’m going to see if she’s playing with the neighbor kids,” I say as I close the toy box her babydollshouldbe in but isn’t. “I’ll be right back, ok?”
Margie nods absently as she sinks into the rocking chair, the fragile eighty-six-year-old woman wringing her hands and staring out the window.
Poor thing.
Stepping into the hall, I pull the door closed quietly, then immediately start my search for the new girl that can’t seem to follow simple instructions.
It is so irritating, so frustrating, that she can’t just do what Linnie told her to do, and it upsets Mrs. Sanderson on a level that can reach catastrophic proportions if Jolene goes missing for too long. I swear to god, when I find this halfwit CNA I’m going to light into her for doing this again, especially since I know my friend talked to her Saturday when they worked together.
There’s no reason to take the doll away in the first place, but knowing that it could easily send Margie spiraling as well, that’s borderline abuse in my opinion and I’m inclined to go to upper management myself, staffing issues be damned.
With a huff, I start toward the rooms in Sasha’s set. “I swear to god, this place is—”
“Stevie, hi.”
I stop dead in my tracks as my stomach drops and my shoulders bunch to my ears.
Chris.
“I was hoping to see you tonight.”
Slowly, mainly because I don’t want to talk to him but know I have to, I turn to face the night shift RN that makes my skin crawl. “Hey.”
Chris gives me a smile, one that probably works on a lot of women, before his eyes land on the stitches in my head. “What happened?”
“Fell down the stairs at home.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah…” I wrap my arms around my waist protectively. “Did you need something or…”
The smile returns, and for a split second, I can see why he’s so full of himself.
Dirty blonde hair cut short and neat. Chocolate brown eyes. A dimple in his chin. Chris is lean and on the shorter side for a man, but he’s fit and I can see the appeal physically. But even a nice looking face and body isn’t enough to stop my creep radar from going off, and considering the fact that I’ve been alone with him too many times to ignore it, his looks can’t save him.
Has he ever done anything inappropriate with me? Other than getting too close to my personal bubble to be comfortable? No. But he throws off bad vibes. Vibes like Beau and Joker and some of the other guys I’m used to, and those vibes have always been spot on.
“Walk with me.” Chris nods down the hall with a grin. “I need to log into my computer and get a rundown from Linnie.”
His cart is by the nurse’s station, which is in the opposite direction I’m going, but my shift is almost over and I’m sure Chris knows my set is in the front of the hall anyway. Can’t even use last rounds as an excuse to get away from this guy.
So I nod, put a few feet of space between us and start walking.
“I was wondering…” he says as he clasps his hands behind his back. “There’s this new coffee house opening up on the other side of town. Supposed to be pretty hip, trying to help encourage more upstanding businesses to start up in Rolling Meadows, and I thought since you get out early Friday, we could go and grab a coffee before my shift.”
Nope.
“I…” Thank god I already lied to Linnie about my Friday night plans. “I appreciate it, but I-I can’t.”
Chris stops next to his cart and looks at me with a rather boyish smile. “I don’t bite, Stevie.”
