Maddy's Floor (19 page)

Maddy waited in silence for Tina to finish changing the bedding. She grinned at the woman, who rolled her eyes as she walked past, pushing the laundry cart.

John sat in a visitor's chair, oblivious to Maddy's presence. He dropped his head into his hands. Maddy gave him a minute longer. She approached him. "John. Bad night?"

He reared his head to glare at her. "A bad fucking life."

She had to cut through to the real problem. Patients had to come to terms with their situation before they could move forward. Their terminal conditions didn't give them the luxury of time to wallow. Sometimes she had to be hard in this business. "Only that's not quite true, is it? More like 'bad fucking end of life,' don't you think?"

He glared at her. "That's not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be funny. I deal in reality. The reality is you have a body that's in crisis. How that crisis is managed is up to you."

"I have no control over anything – not even my bowels, apparently." His growl held shame and embarrassment.

"Something that is to be expected, given your condition." She studied his face for a moment. "Or did you expect this not to happen after you achieved your transfer to The Haven?"

The pink on his face reddened. He stared down at the arm of his chair and refused to answer.

"If that's what your wish is, then you need to understand that such an improvement might happen, except healing is a process and tends to take time."

"I don't have any time."

"Hence the selection requirements to get on this floor."

He glared at her. "Gerard let me in, so I must have fit them."

"I'll discuss that with him soon. Why don't you take a nap? Rest will have a major impact on things, like making it to the bathroom on time. Let's get you back into bed."

"Sorry." He lumbered the few steps to the bed then clambered in. "I'm taking my temper out on you and I shouldn't be. I'm hoping with a little bit of time, you can help me."

Maddy walked forward and pulled the blankets up over his frail body. "And maybe I can. However, I need time. That means you need to give it to me. Avoid stress. Stop getting upset over the things you can't change and work on seeing something positive in your day. Find something to be grateful for every hour. Preferably every minute." She added the last bit as an afterthought.

"Why don't you ask me to do something easy, like pay off the national debt, or build a commune on the moon? I'm not much of a happy-vibe-type person," he grumped, pulling up his clean sheets.

Maddy laughed with real humor. Honest self-assessment was a great start. "Well, now is a good time to try. Your unhappy-vibe personality put you here, so what about trying something different to get you out of here?"

"Right. I'll let you know how that goes."

The wry look on his face made her laugh. "I'll see your progress, don't you worry. That's not exactly something you can hide."

"It doesn't appear that anything can be hidden from you anyway."

"True enough, so don't waste the energy. Just work on feeling better. Before you know it, you'll start thinking happier, healthier thoughts, and you'll manifest these in action."

"It's all gibberish, if you ask me."

For all his knocking of the process, John's eyes were brighter and he sat straighter.

"And if it works – who cares what you call it?" There was a hell of a lot more to it, but it gave John something concrete to focus on. Miracles did happen. She'd be the last one to shortchange his ability to create one.

He was the only one who could do that.

***

The morning light shone brightly into Stefan's studio. He picked up the paintbrush and hesitated as he held it above the pallet of colors. He was wading neck-deep in dark, unchartered waters – ones he wasn't sure how to navigate.

He'd done many weird psychic things over the past decade and his talents had always grown, sometimes in ways that had scared the crap out of him. This was no different. Except he needed information on Maddy's floor – and fast. He planned to use a technique like that used on his last painting. It had worked well. So here he was again.

No time like the present to get started.

He dabbed his paintbrush into the black and started painting the newly renovated room at The Haven. Maddy's problem hadn't started there, but it was anchored there. Now he had to find a connection, something concrete so he could trace this energy to its source. She had emailed him several digital pictures of the room as a starting point.

The emailed pictures stood on the spare easel. He studied the details of the new wing then turned to his canvas.

Within minutes, he'd lost himself in the artistic process.

It took several hours for the image to take form. He switched colors several times as he layered in the details. When he came to adding the flooring around the finished bed, complete with patient, sheets and blankets, he switched to light browns. Placing the brush against the canvas, he tried to paint in the floor. The flooring laid down easily in the rest of the room, but the closer Stefan's brush went to the bed, the harder it was to force the brush to touch the canvas. Sweat filmed over his skin with the effort.

Breathing hard, he stopped to regroup. What the hell was going on? He tried to lift his arm again, but it suddenly felt as if it weighed two hundred pounds. He couldn't move it.

Stefan consciously relaxed his arm. Instantly the heavy sensation alleviated. Laying the brush on his palette, he shook his arm lightly. Next, he lifted his empty hand toward the painting.

That appeared to be fine.

The problem appeared to be in painting the floor around the bed, or rather, the color of the floor around the bed. Stefan quickly snatched up a fine brush and dabbed it in the white paint. He touched up the windowsill and accented the fold of a sheet. Then he moved to below the bed and tried to touch where the flooring should be.

His arm froze. It wouldn't allow his brush to connect with the canvas in that place.

Interesting.

Stefan stepped back and studied the picture. Only one color was going to be allowed there.

Stefan's inner senses strengthened as his 'knowing' kicked in: He was on the right path. He could feel the positive energy pulsing through his own veins. A sense of rightness. The recognition of another energy. An energy that wanted to be recognized.

And that would be this person's failing. Stefan knew the persona of this energy in some ways now. He 'couldn't recognize his signature yet, but he would. He had enough to search for him on the ethers. It might take a bit, but this painting would help.

With grim determination, Stefan picked up the black paint and finished the image, painting the blackness in where the brown hadn't been allowed to go.

This would be his starting point.

***

Gerard tried to write the report explaining why he'd allowed John onto Maddy's floor…without making it sound like he'd sold the bed to the highest bidder. That John was already in place helped, only not enough, as Maddy had reminded him. Gerard still had to justify his actions to the Board.

Shit.

Sandra walked in without warning. "That nice detective is on line one." She sauntered back out. "I told him you'd speak with him."

Picking up the phone, he used his most his professional sales voice. "Drew? What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for a diary that went missing in the ER while a patient was being worked on. He and several nurses swear it was there at the time. However, it didn't move with him and his personal effects when he was transferred to a room for the night."

Gerard frowned. Issues like this wouldn't normally make it to his desk, unless a patient threatened to file a lawsuit for loss of personal property. Insurance usually dealt with it. Was Drew asking about it personally or professionally?

"There is a lost and found department. Have you checked with them?"

"Several times. This diary relates to a cold case. I'm sure you can see that I need to follow up all leads to help me retrieve it."

"Hmmm." A cold case, so it was professional. Good luck with that. Time wasn't kind to evidence. "The only thing would be to ask everyone who was on shift that night––"

"Which I've done." Drew sighed, frustration and impatience obvious in his voice. "I don't know if it's stupidity, negligence or a criminal element at play here."

"I can ask the staff myself, see if that helps, but I can't imagine I'll get a different answer than you have."

"No, probably not. If you hear anything about it or if it turns up, please let me know. This is a police matter."

"I'll send out a staff-wide email and explain the importance of locating the diary. Maybe someone thought it was pretty and didn't realize its importance."

"Yes. That might be enough impetus to make someone do the right thing. Thanks."

After Drew hung up, Gerard shook his head. CEO of a major company and he was sending out emails about a missing diary. Who'd have thought? Shrugging at the comedy of his life, he brought up his email and starting writing.

***

Doris stared out the window. Embittered and diseased was not what she'd hoped for in this stage of her life. She hated her life. She felt out of control, on a train taking her somewhere she didn't want to go. Depression, they called it. She didn't care what name was given to it, it felt weird. Surely something was wrong.

She'd had enough to deal with over the last several decades. She didn't want to deal with anything else in this lifetime. Just the thought of reincarnation and repeating this process scared the crap out of her. Karma, yuck. She'd not been exactly a good girl this time around, and didn't have enough time to fix that, even if she had the inclination to do so.

No, she'd hang on as long as she could before going, kicking and screaming, through the final door. All that other New Age stuff fascinated her – as long as she was allowed to pick and choose what she wanted to believe.

Damn her brother, anyway. She wished her mind would shut up about it. Except the angry thoughts recycled endlessly.

The asshole was gloating. Well, maybe his move to Dr. Maddy's floor would come too late to save him. Damn if Doris wasn't going to have a party when his time came. A big one too, with everything he liked so he couldn't have any of it. And she'd use his damn money. Money that should have been hers. They'd been a family after all…at least some of the time. John had hated her mental instability, almost as much as he hated her constant boyfriends and her lifestyle. She shrugged. Too damn bad.

She groaned as she shifted on her bed. Everything hurt these days and nothing they gave her helped. Trapped inside a rotting body was not an experience for the lighthearted. She hoped her brother was suffering, too.

If he'd shared his wealth, she might have felt differently, particularly in light of their history. But he hadn't and now his actions had a direct negative impact on her life. He'd gotten in and she hadn't. She refused to let that be the end. Her pride wanted her to heal so badly. She wanted to parade in front of him before walking out the front doors of The Haven forever – preferably leaving him behind and suffering mightily.

She hadn't even heard about her transfer request yet. Surely, it had to be complete by now. It had been months. Damn it, she deserved Dr. Maddy's floor, not him.

***

Maddy wanted to go home. Her working day had once again extended well into the evening. She needed fresh air and a decent night's sleep. After shutting down and locking up her office, she pulled on her jacket and walked toward the stairwell. With a good-bye wave to the other nurses, she said, "I'm off."

The fresh air revived her somewhat. She stopped outside the hospital door and took several bracing gulps, appreciating the fresh air. Sometime during the day, it had rained, giving the air the feeling of renewal. Though she'd been eager to get some rest, walking toward her apartment, she realized she wasn't quite ready to go home and be cooped up inside again. That intimate little coffee bistro around the corner would be perfect. A bite to eat wouldn't hurt, either.

At the bistro, she chose a spot on the outdoor patio where the evening lanterns swayed in the warm breeze. Truly, it was a peaceful setting. The waitress brought her a latte with a beautiful heart design in the cream. With a happy sigh, Maddy settled back and sipped her coffee. Perfect. Too bad she was alone. A particular male would be a great addition to her evening.

"Excuse me, Dr. Maddy." A shadow fell across her table. "May I join you?"

Maddy looked up, startled, as her imagination manifested him beside her. "Detective? I didn't expect to see you here." Her heart bounced with joy.

"Please, call me Drew. And actually, I followed you in," he added with a sheepish grin.

She blinked. Did he have more questions or was there a more personal reason? Flustered, she said inanely, "Oh." Heat climbed her cheeks. "Please, sit down." Maddy's eyes widened as he folded his long frame onto the small bistro chair.

"It's okay. I won't break it." He laughed at her.