IT WAS EARLY. I woke at dawn and went to walk the hall, stretching my legs while my coffee brewed. There weren’t a lot of residents around, not to mention staff, and I moved slowly, reveling in the quiet. But when I caught a glimpse of a blue uniform, a chill zipped down my spine, my body reacting before I consciously understood it was a policeman, standing outside Mr. Alfred’s office.
I tried to squelch the queasy dread that filled my chest. It was probably just something routine. Maybe one of the residents had left their wallet somewhere. Or maybe someone had a son or grandson who was a cop. Guilt is making you paranoid, I told myself. But still. Anxiety clogged my throat as I forced myself down the hall.
I stopped just at the top of my corridor, where my hallway spills into the lobby. Now I could see there were two policemen, one standing on each side of Thomas and Mr. Alfred. No one noticed me. Thomas looked clammier than usual, and Alfred’s face was grim. But focused. His eyes stayed on the officers’ faces, taking in every word while Thomas’s eyes darted from Mr. Alfred to the cop who was speaking and back again.
Mr. Alfred gestured toward his office. The cops and Thomas filed inside.
What was going on?
I stood for a few moments, considering what to do. I began to head into the lobby, weighing whether I would be able to hear anything if I went and sat by the office door, when it suddenly opened again, and they quickly came into the lobby. I pulled back, out of their angle of sight, and held my breath, hoping to pick up what they were saying.
I needn’t have worried. One of the cops said in a booming voice, “Thank you for the information. If anything else occurs to you, give us a call. Tobias will probably be following up with the staff that was on duty.”
What had happened?
And further, what to do? I slipped down the hall to my apartment and made a phone call.
Evan’s voice was blurry, foggy. “Hullo? Who is this?
“Evan? It’s Frannie.”
“Wha—? Frannie? You’re calling me?” I heard him grunt as he moved—I imagined he sat up in bed. “Do you know what time it is?”
“We have to talk. It’s important.”
“What? Did a manager say something mean to somebody with an accent?”
That infuriated me. “Sorry,” I said coldly. “I guess I made a mistake.” I hung up, shaking.
What now?
Within a minute the phone rang, displaying Evan’s number. I almost didn’t answer, but I had no idea who else to talk to about this. I picked up.
“I’m sorry, Frannie. It was just my crankiness at being woken up. Really, I apologize.”
I was torn between wanting to chew him out and then never speak to him again, and blurting out my questions. I just cut to the chase. “Do you still have contacts in the police department? You wouldn’t happen to know somebody named Tobias, would you?”
I could sense him come to attention. “Tobias?” He sounded confused. “Um, yeah. I know someone by that name.” He cleared his throat. “Why?” Then more sharply, “Are you in trouble?”
I told him what I’d seen.
For a moment he was quiet. He said, “Let me look into it. It might take a bit. I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you.”
The tone of his voice made my stomach drop.
I paced my apartment, unable to eat, my mouth lined with sandpaper.
Then I remembered it was Friday. The day Graciela was going to help me bathe. How does one greet someone who is about to help them bathe? With cookies? I was nervous, but not because I needed help with my shower. It was because I knew I had to get information from Graciela, and I didn’t know how to go about it. When the knock on the door finally came, I almost jumped.
“Come in,” I rasped, my throat tight as I headed toward the door.
The key turned in the lock, and Graciela opened the door partway, “Mrs. Greene? Good morning. Are you ready for your shower?”
I smiled. “Yes. Please, come in.” I gestured to a couple of mugs I’d set out on the counter. “Can I get you some coffee?”
Graciela spoke quickly. “No. Thanks.”
She was more curt than usual. I wondered if she knew about the police visit. I sat at the counter. “Are you sure? Would you mind if I have a little? I really need my coffee this morning.” She hesitated and glanced at the clock. I added, “I promise, I won’t be long. And I take very quick showers.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t rush you. And it’s early yet.”
“Join me. Please?”
“Well …” She hesitated. “All right—just a little.” I poured her a cup.
She sipped. Silence descended.
“How are your studies going?” I asked.
Her eyes widened, alarmed. “Why do you ask that?”
“I just wondered. You mentioned earlier you were studying to be a nurse.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Oh yes. I forgot I told you.” She paused. “I-I am taking a break from studies.”
“Can I ask why?’
The apprehension came back. “It just, it seems like maybe it isn’t a good choice for me after all. Maybe I … maybe it is too hard to do it right.”
I could bear the game no more. “Graciela, can I ask you something?”
She lifted her face, curious but guarded.
“Why are you afraid of Thomas? Why did he take you away from your duties?”
She stood, alarm sparking in her eyes. “I think we need to do your shower now.”
“Graciela, I can help.”
“No, no. Please. Everything is okay. I shouldn’t be speaking about this.” She gestured to the bathroom, her expression opaque, her voice brusque. “We start on the shower.”
Her tone rebuked me. Who did I think I was? Chastened, I slowly stood. Without warning, I felt tears rising in my eyes, and I swallowed as I made my way to the bathroom.
Graciela noticed. She softened her manner slightly. “It’s okay,” she said, and put her hand under my elbow as we entered the bath. She sat me down on the bench built along the wall while she positioned my newly acquired shower chair in the tub. She put my shampoo and conditioner and soap within easy reach. Then she turned to me. “I understand that I am here only if you need me. So, I will help you into the tub. We’ll close the door and you can slip off your robe and hand it to me. I’ll be here if you want help to wash your hair or if you drop something, and when you’re ready get out.” Her shields were still up, but her eyes held kindness too. I nodded.
She turned on the tap, adjusting the water as it came out of the faucet. I removed my slippers and leaned on her as I stepped into the tub. She slid the frosted glass door most of the way closed, giving me privacy. I unsnapped my housecoat and handed it out to her. I sat on the shower chair, flipped the lever and the water began to flow from the shower head above me. I had to admit, it felt very secure and nice to be sitting while I washed. Graciela asked, “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Though I would never have said as much to Iris, my slide down the shower wall had spooked me. It was good to have someone there in case I needed help.
I would have sat there for a long time, enjoying the hot water, but I didn’t want to lose my chance to feel Graciela out about my questions. I finished quickly and turned off the water. “Graciela, could you hand me in a towel?”
The door opened slightly and a hand appeared, holding a towel. I wrapped my dripping hair with it.
“Another please? A big one?”
Her hand appeared again, buried in thick pink terrycloth. I dried off, wrapping the large towel around myself securely and opening the door. “Ready for my entrance!” I said, smiling.
Graciela helped me out and held up a clean housecoat the way men on dates used to hold women’s coats at restaurants in the old days. I slipped my arms in, pulled it closed, and let the towel slide to the floor as I snapped it shut. I turned to face her.
“Thank you. You made that easy and comfortable.”
She smiled. “I just sat here. I’m glad it went so well.”
She helped me to sit and straightened the bathroom, picking up the towel and setting the shampoo and soap in their place as I put on my slippers.
Watching her competent, efficient movements, I decided to try again. And this time, to simply let her know I was in her corner.
“Graciela?” Despite my resolve, my voice was tentative.
She straightened but didn’t look at me.
“I … I just want you to know that I’m not simply being nosy. I have my own reasons, and I have a feeling they might impact your—” I stopped and tried again. “I want you to know that I notice things. That I might be able to help you. Maybe ease your worries.”
She half turned toward me but kept her eyes on the towel she was folding and unfolding.
I went on. “Sometimes I think the people who work here forget we’re people too. That we hear things and see things.” She tilted her head as if she was about to say something. I held my hand up to stop her. “Okay. Okay. I know. Not everybody here notices very much or can hear very well. But some of us can. And do.” I hesitated. But my instinct about her was very strong. So I took a deep breath and went on. “I want you to know I am on your side. I am an ally.”
Those words are almost exactly what Evan had said to me. And I had not trusted him for one minute. The difference was, of course, that I had actually done something wrong, and I was pretty sure Graciela hadn’t. Another difference was that for someone Graciela’s age, I was unimaginably old, and therefore not anyone to fear. Her large eyes were dark, but I saw she understood.
The next morning I heard a knock at my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I hobbled over and rocked onto my tiptoes to peek through the peephole.
It was Graciela. Surprised, I pulled open the door.
She was brusque, almost nervous, and she spoke before I could say anything. “Today is the day of the nature walk. I thought you might want to go?”
Her expression was peculiar. What was going on? I said, “Um … but I’m not …”
She gestured toward my closet. “Don’t you want a jacket?”
There was a knot forming in my stomach. Clearly, she had decided we needed to go for a walk. I swallowed. “Sure. Ah, let me get my sunglasses too.”
I glanced at the wheelchair she was holding. “But I can walk. So long as we take it easy.”
“I think it might be easier to talk if you were seated.”
I looked directly into her eyes. The glance she returned was pleading.
I sat down in the wheelchair. Only as we were on our way to the lobby did it occur to me to wonder if I should be frightened. I was an old lady heading into the woods to discuss murder, after all. I exhaled and cleared my head of such ridiculous thoughts. I had been reading too much P. D. James.
Near the exit to the patio, I saw Marta gathered with a number of other residents. “Oh, I’m glad you were able to come. Graciela told me you might want to join us.”
We made our cumbersome way out to the path. Just as had happened with Jannah, Graciela slowed to let the others go ahead. Obviously she wanted to talk.
Once the others were sufficiently distant, I turned over my shoulder and asked directly. “Graciela? What is going on?”
I felt her tense. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but she kept pushing the wheelchair for another minute. When we reached a shaded spot, she parked me to the side of the path near a bench and sat. She took a breath before she said, “Jannah told me you talked with her. That … you might be able to help.”
I nodded.
She pressed her lips together and went on. “You know the lady that was married to the judge? I think you were friends with her.”
My heart began to pound. “You mean Katherine? Mrs. Kearney? Of course.”
She didn’t speak.
“Graciela?”
She bent down and plucked a strand of clover nearby and sat on the bench. “I love the smell of this little white flower.” She held it out to me. I took it and inhaled its subtle sweetness. She looked around.
“Graciela?” I said again.
She plucked another clover and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. “It happened when I noticed something wrong with her medicine. It didn’t look right.” Her voice was clogged, fearful. “So I put those pills aside.”
My mind flashed back to the night I changed the medicine, and the arrangement of the cart—the pills destined for the apartment, marked “Kearney.” So my fears were correct. I must’ve switched Katherine’s medicine, rather than Nathaniel’s. My chest contracted.
I managed to swallow. “And?”
She got up and began pacing. I could sense her fear, her agitation.
“I meant to give it to her.” Her voice cracked. “I delivered the rest of their medicine—but held those back. I was going to find the doctor on call and send them a picture of the ones that made me worried. I told Thomas. He said to mind my own business, that I didn’t know what I was doing. Said I had to give her all the medicine.” Her voice rose. “But Thomas is not a doctor or a nurse! He didn’t know.”
There was only the pebbly sound of her feet on the path as she returned to the bench.
“And?”
She exhaled shakily. “Thomas yelled at me, made me go back to their apartment. But when I did, Mr. Kearney got upset and said Mrs. Kearney was already in bed. I told him she needed the medicine, but he said not to worry, that she had taken them late or skipped them sometimes before. He closed the door and didn’t even take her medicine inside the apartment.”
I twisted in the wheelchair to look at her. She returned my gaze, and her voice became earnest as she pleaded, “Something was wrong with the pills—I know it. It was too much. They were too strong for her.” She pressed her lips together, and the silence stretched on while she regained her composure.
Her voice dropped to a strangled pleading. “Then she died. Thomas says it is my fault because she didn’t take her medicine. Thomas is family—my husband’s cousin. He says if I tell anyone, we will lose our visas. Now he won’t let me near the medication room or anything. He says we have to be quiet and that if I tell, he’ll keep me from applying to nurse school. But I heard the police are asking about Mrs. Kearney.”
She stopped speaking for a moment to collect herself. “I need this job. I don’t have my green card yet, and my visa …” There were tears in her eyes. “You were a nurse, you know people …”
So there it was. Someone else’s life, someone innocent, was being harmed because of me. Was I any better than Stinson, pursuing my own needs and not caring about anyone who got in my way? I summoned every bit of resolve I had to stay calm, to communicate to Graciela that not delivering that medicine could not have killed Katherine, when it hit me. Suddenly, like a truck careening around a corner, it hit me.
If Katherine hadn’t taken the medicine, then I hadn’t killed her either.
I began to hyperventilate. Adrenaline surged through me, and sweat gathered on my lip. I gulped. I couldn’t hear Graciela’s voice over the roaring in my ears.
She was in front of me, stooping to put her face level to mine. “Mrs. Greene? Mrs. Greene?” Her words came through the thunder in my head, faint but persistent.
I started laughing. Hysterically. I saw Graciela’s face move from appalled to concerned, to downright frightened, like I was I was having some kind of fit. I knew I had to get ahold of myself. If only I could stop shaking.
She crouched in front of me, staring directly into my face and gripping my elbows. Half shouting, she repeated, “Mrs. Greene! Mrs. Greene!” Somehow the panic in her voice was like a slap to my cheek. It knocked me out of my hysteria. I got a grip on myself. We looked at one another, her face appalled and astonished.
I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I apologize for reacting that way.”
She stood and inhaled. Her eyes were indescribable. Fright, anger, confusion all seemed to register there. “I should not have told you. I thought you could maybe help. You could tell Thomas I am a careful worker.”
I reached out. “No, no, it’s good! It’s good you told me.” I focused, inhaling, exhaling. I squeezed her hand. “Graciela, listen to me. You do not need to worry. Katherine would not have died by missing one dose of that medicine.” She was standing directly in front of me. I grasped both of her hands in mine. “You did not do it. Missing one dose of that medicine would not have killed her.”
Though her eyes were fearful, I could see in them a desire to believe me.
I went on. “That medicine builds up in the body. Dangerous overdoses can happen easily, so you were right to not give it to her.” I swallowed, thanking God for this conscientious, observant woman. “But for that same reason, missing a dose is not fatal.” I leaned forward, eager to make her understand. “I know this for certain. Not only because I was a nurse but also because my husband was on the same medicine, and sometimes he forgot his. And I remember Katherine telling me that she often forgot her meds and would end up taking them late.”
Her wide brown eyes became moist with hope.
I repeated, needing her to hear me. “You don’t need to worry, and you can tell Thomas that too. In fact, you can tell him to talk to a doctor if you want. Talk to Dr. Rudd. Or I will, if you prefer. I can have him to talk to Thomas.” I ducked my head to catch her gaze. “You did not hurt her.”
Tears flooded Graciela’s eyes. And mine.
Not only had she not killed Katherine, but, as affirmed by the sudden lightness flooding my disbelieving, grateful heart, apparently neither had I.