Menu for Romance (27 page)

She jogged up the stairs and hurried down the wide central hall, the sounds of a major commotion spurring her on. The hall ended at a large room furnished with many cushy-looking sofas and chairs, game tables, and a couple of entertainment centers with big TVs. But rather than enjoying all that, about a dozen people stood in a semicircle while a woman with thin white hair paced, yelling and crying.

Meredith watched, dumbfounded. The woman screamed if anyone got within five feet of her. She banged her fists against her temples, muttering to herself, shouting occasional random words.

Could this be Major’s mother?

“Are you Ms. Guidry?” A tall, middle-aged man in a suit approached Meredith.

“I am. Is that ... is that Mrs. O’Hara?”

“Gideon Thibodeaux. Do you see why we needed you to come?”

She nodded then shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to be able to do to help if no one else can get close to her.”

“You have to try. It’s not good for her to be in a state like this.”

“Do you know what triggered it?” Focusing on Mrs. O’Hara, Meredith wracked her brain to come up with something, anything, she could do to help Major’s mother.

“She was upset that her son hadn’t shown up to see her when he said he’d be here at a certain time. Then she started acting like this. I can only assume the hospital found her phone number in Mr. O’Hara’s personal effects and called her and revealed he’d been injured.”

Stomach sinking, Meredith looked at Mr. Thibodeaux again. “Actually, I think that’s my fault, then. She called Major’s cell phone, and I answered and told her.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Positive energy is what’s needed.”

“What should I do?”

“Try talking to her. Sometimes, as with babies, a soothing, steady stream of words can lull them into a calmer state of mind.”

Right. Just like that. “What should I talk about?”

“See if you can recognize anything she’s saying. Get her to focus on one thing and talk to her about it—ask her questions, tell a story together, whatever it takes.”

Hands and heart trembling, Meredith took a deep breath. She’d created this mess; she had to fix it. “I’ll do what I can.”

Meredith made her way through the people standing around Major’s mother until she stood in the neutral zone between them. With a closer view of the woman, Meredith revised her idea of how old she was—her white hair and the gauntness of her face had aged her prematurely. She might be younger than Meredith’s own mother.

“Mrs. O’Hara?”

Major’s mom didn’t stop pacing or muttering.

“Mrs. O’Hara, I’m Meredith. I’m a friend of Major’s.”

Mrs. O’Hara raised her voice, and Meredith caught the words, “Asked her why...” before the muttering became incoherent again.

“Who did you ask, Mrs. O’Hara?”

“Custer is dead.”

Meredith shook her head, not sure if she’d heard the woman correctly. “Custer—General Custer? Yes, he’s been dead a long time.”

“Two hundred twelve officers of men...”

“Mrs. O’Hara, I don’t understand what you mean. Are you talking about Custer’s last stand at Little Big Horn?” Meredith took a cautious step forward.

“No—don’t come closer. Where’s Major? I want my son! I’ll leave here and go find him myself.” As suddenly as she started screaming, she stopped and returned to muttering. “‘Ten thousand Indians under Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse ... uniting in a common war against the United States Cavalry.’ No one understands. No one knows. Where’s my son?”

Meredith moved closer. “Wait—Mrs. O’Hara, what were you saying about Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse? I’ve heard that before.” She stilled when Mrs. O’Hara turned and looked directly at her.

“‘The Sioux and Cheyenne are on the warpath.’”

“I’m going to call the state mental hospital.” Meredith hadn’t noticed the director coming up behind her. “She’s making no sense at all.”

“No!” Mrs. O’Hara’s arm whipped out, and her bony fingers wrapped around Meredith’s wrist. “Don’t let them take me away. They can’t take me away from Danny. They took him away from me before and put me in the loony bin, and they can’t do that to me again. Where’s my son? Take me to my son.”

Before Meredith could respond, Mrs. O’Hara collapsed on the floor and began wailing, yelling Major’s name over and over.

Meredith turned to Mr. Thibodeaux. “Don’t call yet. I think I know what she was talking about.” She knelt on the floor by the rocking, keening woman. “Mrs. O’Hara, were you quoting lines from
She Wore a Yellow Ribbon?
”

“‘Round her neck she wore a yellow ribbon....’” Mrs. O’Hara sang.

Tears of relief sprang to Meredith eyes. She gingerly rested her hands on the distraught woman’s shoulders and sang the next line of the song.

“‘When I asked her why ... when I asked her...’” Mrs. O’Hara looked up at Meredith through the fingers she held over her face.

Meredith continued singing. When she got to the chorus, Mrs. O’Hara repeated “cavalry” along with her each time she sang it. Meredith moved from kneeling to sit beside Major’s mother and put her arm around the woman’s shoulders.

After what must have been at least ten minutes of singing the movie’s short theme song over and over and over, Meredith felt Mrs. O’Hara’s taught muscles suddenly relax. She leaned into Meredith’s side.

Without the ranting and screaming to entertain them, most of the people who’d been standing around this whole time dispersed.

“’M tired. Want to go back to my room now.”

Meredith helped her to her feet. “I’ll go with you to your room.”

Major’s mother looked at Meredith as if she hadn’t seen her before. “Mary Kate?”

“No. I’m Meredith.”

“Meredith—Mary Kate.” She grasped Meredith’s arm. “Come back to my apartment, Mary Kate.”

Meredith corrected her twice more but then gave up and answered to Mary Kate, letting Mrs. O’Hara lead her down a couple of halls until they stopped at room number 267.

Mrs. O’Hara pointed to the number. “Twenty-six seven. John Wayne was born on May 26, 1907.”

“Was he?” Meredith figured the easiest thing to do right now was just humor her until she was certain the woman would stay calm.

“Such a sad day when he died. Danny was just a little boy.”

“Danny? Is that Major’s brother?” Perhaps pumping Mrs. O’Hara for information on Major’s family wasn’t the most honorable thing to do, but she never could get it out of him.

“No. Danny is Major. Major Daniel Kirby Xavier ... Major Xavier Kirby...” Mrs. O’Hara frowned and looked like she was building up again.

“Major Daniel Xavier Kirby O’Hara.”

“You know Danny?”

Meredith’s forearms were going to be bruised where Mrs. O’Hara kept grabbing her. “I work with Major. I’ve known him a long time.”

“Come on, Mary Kate, I want to show you my apartment.” Mrs. O’Hara shoved the door open.

As soon as Meredith entered the room, she finally understood where the seemingly random references to John Wayne stemmed from. Framed movie posters lined the walls of the small studio apartment—
Stagecoach
and
Fort Apache
and
Sands of Iwo Jima
and
Flying Leathernecks.

But Mrs. O’Hara crossed into the bedroom and pointed to one hanging over her vanity table.

“Mary Kate.” She pointed at the poster.

“Of course.” Meredith took in the illustrated image of John Wayne with Maureen O’Hara in his arms. “
The Quiet Man.
Maureen O’Hara played Mary Kate Danaher.”

“You look like her.” She grabbed Meredith’s sore arm again and took her around to look at each of the posters.

Finally, Major’s mother collapsed into the plush recliner in the small sitting area, which included a TV, DVD player, and a rack full of what looked like just about every movie John Wayne had ever been in.

“Take me to see Danny.”

The sadness in his mother’s voice broke Meredith’s heart. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Thibodeaux if I can take you. But Major’s going to need to sleep for a long time after he comes out of surgery.”

“I want to see him.” Large tears dripped from Mrs. O’Hara’s faded blue eyes.

“I understand. Let me go ask.” She glanced around the apartment. Would Mrs. O’Hara stay here quietly if Meredith left to track down the director? “Do you want me to put a movie on for you?”

Mrs. O’Hara nodded.

“How about
She Wore a Yellow Ribbon?
” Meredith reached for the case.

“No.
Donovan’s Reef.
”

“Good choice.” Hopefully the comedy would get her into a better frame of mind. Meredith put the disc in, and by the time she turned around, Mrs. O’Hara had a remote control in each hand. “You got this?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

“’Kay.”

“You’ll be here waiting for me when I come back?”

“Go.”

Startled, Meredith did as bade and left the apartment. She didn’t have far to look for the facility’s director. He came down the hall toward her.

“Sorry I abandoned you. I had to make sure everyone else was okay.” He rubbed his left temple. “You did a great job with her. I can’t believe you recognized that she was quoting lines from a movie. I’ve never even heard of that film.”

“It’s one of John Wayne’s westerns—and one of my favorite movies.” Meredith turned to walk back to Mrs. O’Hara’s apartment with him. “She asked me to take her over to the hospital to see her son.”

He shook his head. “After that episode, it’ll be better if she stays here. One of our psychiatrists is on the way here. He’ll give her something to help her sleep through the night so she doesn’t relapse.”

Meredith cringed. “I thought you said you didn’t want to give her something to knock her out.”

“That would have been different. We would have been giving her a powerful antipsychotic drug. Instead, it’ll be a mild sleeping pill along with her other medications. It’ll keep her from suffering adverse affects from the episode.” He knocked then opened Mrs. O’Hara’s door. “Hi, Beverly. May I come in?”

“Where’s Mary Kate?” Beverly O’Hara asked without turning away from John Wayne on the small TV screen.

Meredith resigned herself to answering to the character’s name. “I’m here, too.”

“Okay, you can come in then.”

She followed the doctor in and sat on the edge of the loveseat.

“Beverly, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to the hospital to see your son. You wore yourself out tonight. And he’s going to need his rest, too. So it’ll probably be better for you to stay here and for your son to come see you when he gets out of the hospital.”

Beverly looked at Meredith, worry crinkling the papery skin of her forehead and around her eyes.

“Mrs. O’Hara, I think it’s a good idea. I promise I will bring Major out here to see you as soon as he’s released. But just so you know, that may be a couple of days.”

Major’s mother chewed her thin lips. “But what if I need him before that?”

“How about this?” The director spoke before Meredith could respond. “I’ll ask Ms. Guidry to leave her phone number for you—but only if you promise that you won’t call her unless it’s an emergency. Can you promise to do that, Beverly?”

Her gaze flickered back to the TV—and after a little while, it seemed as if she’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. Meredith looked askance at the director, who shrugged.

“I agree. I’ll only call if it’s an emergency.” Beverly reached into the end table beside her chair and pulled out a marker and a pad of sticky notes. “Major uses these to write down things I need to remember.”

Meredith wrote her cell phone number in large, clear numerals and handed the pad back to Beverly. “Mrs. O’Hara, I will call you with an update on Major in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

All three turned at a knock on the door. A nurse came in with a young man in a white doctor’s coat.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara. I came to talk to you about what happened earlier.” The kid-doctor offered Meredith a nod and smile of acknowledgment before scooting past her to sit on the loveseat.

Meredith stood. “Maybe I should go—”

Whip fast, Beverly grabbed Meredith’s arm again.

“Why don’t you stay,” Dr. Sevellier said.

Meredith extracted her arm then held Beverly’s hand loosely in hers and sat down.

For the next half hour, the young psychiatrist managed to impress Meredith with the way he drew information out of Major’s mother until the woman was speaking coherently. Finally, Dr. Sevellier stood, had a whispered conversation with the nurse, and moved beside the recliner.

Meredith released Beverly’s hand and scooted back in her seat to allow him room.

“The nurse is going to bring your meds. And I’m having her add a sleeping pill so you can get some rest and recover from your ordeal.” Dr. Sevellier patted Beverly’s shoulder and moved toward the door.

Beverly reached for Meredith’s hand again. “They’re going to put me to sleep. Don’t let them put me to sleep. I want to watch the movie. Don’t let them take me away from the movie.”

Meredith moved back up to the edge of the sofa so her shoulder wasn’t in danger of being pulled out of its socket. “Mrs. O’Hara, would it help if I stay until you fall asleep? We can keep the movie on so you can see it from the bed.”

Beverly agreed and took all the pills the nurse brought. The director, doctor, and nurse left. Meredith helped Beverly change into her nightgown and took over the task of brushing the baby-fine white hair when Beverly complained that her arms were too heavy to continue.

“Will you sing it for me?” Beverly stretched out and pulled the covers up to her chin.

“Sing what?”

The older lady yawned. “Yellow ribbon song.” Her eyelids drooped.

By the time Meredith made it all the way through the tune, Beverly O’Hara was sound asleep. As quietly as she could, Meredith turned off the lamp on the bedside table and straightened up the room, putting Beverly’s clothes into the hamper, wiping the water and dripped toothpaste off the sink in the small bathroom, and turning off the TV and video player, returning the DVD to its case and the case to its original spot on the shelf.

“Cavalry...”

Meredith jumped at Beverly’s muzzy singsong voice. But Beverly didn’t move and didn’t say anything else. Meredith released her held breath and let herself out of the apartment, releasing the doorknob a smidgen at a time until the latch softly clicked into place.

The director met her in the lobby and got her contact information, then walked her to the front doors.

“Thank you for coming tonight, Ms. Guidry. I’m certain Beverly and her son appreciate it, as well.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Meredith shook hands with him then headed out to her car. She sat for a moment, fingers steepled over her nose and mouth.
Lord, what did I just step into the middle of?
And why had Major never told her about his mother? He had a lot of explaining to do.

Awareness dawned at about the same speed it took a watched pot to boil. Major became vaguely aware of odd little sounds that he’d never heard in his condo before. A rhythmic beep. A plastic rustle and slight whoosh of air every time he moved. Though there were times when he woke up sore the morning after a hard workout, breathing had never hurt as much as it did this morning. The back of his right hand was killing him, too.

He opened his eyes, and in the dimness, his surroundings took a minute to resolve. He wasn’t at home. He was in a hospital room. And then he remembered—

The car in front of him had slammed on its brakes for no apparent reason. He’d lost control of the Jeep on the wet pavement. Kirby had rolled over a few times. After that, he only remembered bits and snatches. The emergency room. Being told he needed surgery on his leg. And Meredith...

The beeping sound increased. When she’d appeared at his side in the emergency room, all he could think of was wanting to make sure she never left him again. He’d said ... he’d said...

His face burned. Though he did want to propose to Meredith
eventually,
hopefully she understood that he’d been under the influence of heavy-duty painkillers.

An insistent buzzing sound caught his ear, followed by rustling from the dark corner of the room.

“Hello?” A whispered voice. “No, Beverly, he’s still sleeping. I promise, I’ll call you as soon as he wakes up so you can talk to him.... Okay. Bye.”