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LACEY DROVE DOWN THE pitted dirt road to her last patient of the day. Even twelve years later, she had anxiety coming this way, since this was the road that had washed out, sending the bus downstream. The county had built up the road so it created a bridge over the gully, instead of a low water crossing, but Lacey still tensed every time she turned on the road.
She didn't know why she left Mrs. Conover until last—she hated driving down this road when it got dark, and Mrs. Conover was so mean. The woman had every reason to be, widowed and left broke out here in a house that was increasingly run down. Her kids, who had left town years ago, never came back to visit, that Lacey knew of. Well, she felt bad for the woman, but she couldn't blame the kids, either.
So her last job of the day was going to send her home in a bad mood.
The positive side was that she wasn't having morning sickness this time of the day.
She needed all her defenses for Mrs. Conover.
The house was dark. Even though the sun was still up, the Conover house stood in the shadow of a hill that blocked the western sun, so Mrs. Conover usually had the lights on by now. But today the house was dark and silent.
Lacey mounted the porch steps with dread building in her belly. One of her fears, being a home health care provider, was that one day she’d walk up to a house and find her patient had passed. So far she’d avoided that experience, but some of her coworkers had told her of how horrible the experience could be, especially if the person had been alone for a while.
She knocked first, and when there was no answer, she pulled the key out of the pocket of her scrub top and unlocked the door.
“Why do you drive that little car out here? You should have a truck on these roads.” The woman’s scratchy voice came from the doorway to the kitchen.
Lacey jumped so hard that she peed a little. “Mrs. Conover! Why are you standing there in the dark?”
“I was waiting to see how long you’d wait before you used my key.”
“Did I wait the right amount of time?” Lacey asked, her heart still thundering as she flipped the light switch, illuminating the small crowded room.
“I could have been dead in here,” the woman grumbled, lurching toward her favorite wing backed chair that could use new upholstery.
“The thought did cross my mind.” Lacey resisted the urge to slap her hand over her own mouth at her impertinence, especially when Mrs. Conover shot her a sharp look.
But the older woman apparently decided not to take issue with it. She rolled up her sleeve for the blood pressure cuff. “You really need to get a truck instead of that little car.”
“When you find someone selling a truck for less than the price of a house, you let me know,” Lacey countered as she wrapped the cuff around Mrs. Conover’s arm, and again winced at her tone. What was wrong with her?
But the older woman didn't seem to be paying attention. “Damn, girl, I thought you had started using the bigger cuff.” The woman lifted her hand toward the blood pressure cuff.
Anticipating the move, Lacey pressed the woman’s hand back down to her lap. “This is the bigger cuff.”
“Didn’t hurt so much last time,” Mrs. Conover grumbled.
After Lacey made note of the higher blood pressure and the higher blood sugar after pricking the woman’s finger, she headed into the kitchen to make the woman’s dinner. Part of her job was making sure the older woman was eating well, so Lacey made her dinner and a few other meals ahead of time.
But when she opened the refrigerator, she didn't see a lot of options for meals.
“Mrs. Conover, when’s the last time you had grocery delivery?”
Mrs. Conover staggered into the room behind her, losing her balance a bit on a weak part of the floor. The older woman grunted and steadied herself against the wall. “That place they call a grocery store in town charges an arm and a leg, and doesn’t have any selection.”
“More selection than you have.”
“When did you get so cheeky?”
“So what?” Lacey leaned into the refrigerator and pulled out a package of corn tortillas and a bag of potatoes starting to wrinkle.
“You know, saucy. Speaking your mind.”
“I’m sorry. I must be tired. I didn't mean to be disrespectful.”
Those eyes narrowed again, and she grunted, looking at the food on the table. “What are you doing with that?” she asked suspiciously.
“Going to figure out how to make you dinner for tonight and tomorrow, with lunch, too.” Lacey opened the freezer door, saw it contained even fewer items, before she crossed to the pantry. Her heart dropped. This woman didn't have enough food to last until Lacey returned in two days.
She turned to the older woman with a sigh. “Give me a grocery list.” She wasn't even sure the grocery store would be open when she arrived, since she never went shopping this late, and the small town of Broken Wheel always rolled up the sidewalks early.
“A grocery list? Whatever for?”
“You don't have any food worth eating, Mrs. Conover, not with your blood sugar levels. You can’t eat any of this.”
“I don't have the money to give to you.” The older woman crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a jar of peanut butter. “I can eat this.”
Except she didn't have bread, or even crackers. “That’s fine, you can owe me. You don't have enough food to last. When was the last time they delivered your food?”
“They don't come out here anymore.”
Lacey mentally added “pick up groceries for Mrs. Conover” to her mental to-do list. “If you don't give me a list, I’m going to go get you what I think you should have, and you won’t like that.”
Mrs. Conover glared for a long moment before she crossed to a drawer, pulled out a pad and pencil, and began writing.
*****
LORD, LACEY HATED DRIVING back to town on these dark roads, but she was glad to be useful. Today more useful than usual.
She obsessively made sure her phone was plugged into the charger, and hoped the grocery store was still open.
Mrs. Lopez was just walking toward the door when Lacey burst through.
“Lacey! You’re never here this late. I’m just about to lock up.”
“I know, Mrs. Lopez, but I need to pick up some things for Mrs. Conover. Just a few things to tide her over until my next visit. Do you mind? I’ll be really quick.”
Mrs. Lopez’s usually friendly expression closed at the mention of Mrs. Conover’s name. Lacey just happened to notice that between scanning the aisles for what she’d need.
“That lady.”
“How long since she’s ordered? She barely had anything in her pantry, and I know she doesn't have internet, so she’s not ordering online.”
“She came in a few weeks back with one of her friends, and she was so hateful and rude, it was upsetting. She said she wouldn't be doing business with us anymore.”
“Well, I don't know where she thought she was going to go.” Lacey picked up a hand basket and started toward the produce at the front of the store. “I just need to get her a few things so I can make her some meals for a couple of days, then I’ll come back before I go out the next time and pick up the rest. I’m really sorry to delay you.”
“I’ve already closed out the register.”
Lacey knew that wasn't true, because she’d never do that before locking the door. She set the basket on the counter by the register with a sigh. “What would you have me do, Mrs. Lopez? Leave her out there hungry?”
Mrs. Lopez met her gaze for a long moment before her shoulders slumped. “No, of course not. Get what you need, but I’m not giving you more than ten minutes.” She returned to her place behind the register.
Lacey wouldn't need that much time. She already had bread and eggs in her basket. She headed to the produce and added apples as well as tomatoes and avocados. She grabbed two whole cooked chickens from the warmer and scanned the store for what else she could use in a quick meal.
When she set the basket on the counter and pulled her own debit card from her wallet, Mrs. Lopez frowned.
“She didn't even give you money?”
Lacey didn't want to engage in this conversation. “She’ll pay me back.”
Mrs. Lopez snorted, and rang up the order, but made no move to bag the items. With a suppressed sigh, Lacey moved to the end of the conveyor belt, helped herself to a paper bag, and started packing.
She drove back to Mrs. Conover’s much slower, not wanting a bump in the road that she couldn't see to throw her little car out of commission. She kept her phone plugged in and charging, but service was iffy out here.
When she reached Mrs. Conover’s, she had to knock a couple of times before she pulled the key again, and saw the older woman snoozing in front of her television game show. Lacey decided not to wake her until dinner was ready. The woman would just argue with her over what she wanted to eat, but she would eat whatever Lacey made.
But Lacey wasn't going to have time to clean, not today. She hated that, because it was going to put her behind for next time, but she didn't want to get home so late, when she had her first patient at seven in the morning.
This time she wasn't startled when she heard the shuffle of Mrs. Conover’s house shoes as she entered the kitchen.
“I didn't hear you come back,” the woman said, peering into the pot. “What are you making?”
“Tortilla soup, and chicken a la king.” She gestured to the chicken carcass she had deboned. “There’s another of those in the refrigerator.”
“It smells real good.” Mrs. Conover peered into the pot. “I guess you had to learn how to cook, when it was just you and your dad.”
Lacey should be grateful the older woman wasn't more blunt. Maybe she was still sleepy, because she didn't usually soften her opinion. “Made it easier for him.”
Mrs. Conover studied her for a moment, then stepped back.
“I’ll get this packed up for you, and wash up, then I have to go.”
Mrs. Conover nodded and took her seat at the table, where Lacey served her before packing up the rest of the soup and the creamed chicken, then turning to the sink to hand wash the dishes. Dirty dishes were not something she wanted to revisit in two days. Anything else could wait.
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked the older woman, drying her hands on the kitchen towel, which needed laundering. She should have thrown a load in before she drove to town. She didn't want to come back to a washer full of sour clothes, either. Maybe she would have to fit another visit in this week, though, God, she dreaded that.
Mrs. Conover looked like she was going to say something, but then she shook her head and tucked into her soup. Lacey tried not to let the woman see her relief as she gave the kitchen one last inspection and headed for the door.
She heard the howl of the coyote pack as she opened her car door, and fear shivered down her spine. She hated the sound, had always hated the sound. And these sounded so close. She flung herself into the driver seat and locked the door behind her, started the car and turned on the lights.
She had barely turned onto the road when she saw them, at least half a dozen, trotting across the road. One turned and looked straight through the windshield at her, his eyes gleaming gold in the reflection of her headlights, before he turned and followed the rest of the pack off the road.