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Mary Ulrich was huddled in a corner, a handkerchief pressed to one of her eyes.
I hurried toward her.
“Mary. Are you okay?”
She gazed at me with watery blue eyes. She looked confused. “What is happening? Why aren’t they waking him up?”
My heart constricted. She seemed to have no idea that Arthur couldn’t be revived.
“Oh, Mary,” I said, my own eyes filling with tears. “I think Arthur is...gone.”
She pressed the handkerchief to her left eye to stem the flow of tears. “Ar-are you sure?”
I nodded. “I think so, yes.”
She hiccupped out a breath.
“Were you with him?” I asked. “Do you know what happened?”
Her jowls trembled but she nodded. “We’d just sat down to dinner. We got there early. You know Arthur. He has that certain table he likes.”
I knew this. Arthur would often come to the dining room fifteen or twenty minutes early, especially when new residents moved in, to send the message loud and clear that the table by the coffee dispenser was his. And if someone tried to sit down in the empty two seats at his and Mary’s table, he would grouse and give the intruders dirty looks. People rarely made the same mistake twice.
I put my hand on her elbow and steered her away from the dining room. The paramedics had moved the stretched closer to Arthur and one of them was unfolding a thick, white sheet.
Mary didn’t need to see that.
I guided her to one of the couches in the Gathering Room. She lowered herself on to it, her body sinking heavily into the cushions.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I offered. “Some tea? Maybe something a little stronger?”
She shook her head. She’d gotten her hair done recently; her white curls were still tight, still springy, and they bounced as she moved her head from side to side.
I sat down next to her, putting my hand on hers and giving her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“I don’t know what happened.” Mary’s voice shook as she spoke. “He was fine all day. Nothing was wrong. And he was fine when I left him.”
“You left him?” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that.
“I had to go to the ladies room,” she explained. “That’s where I was when...when...” Her voice trailed off and fresh tears sprung in her eyes.
I squeezed her hand again, being careful not to apply too much pressure. Her skin was soft, paper-thin, like the skin on an onion. “I’m so sorry.”
She pulled one of her hands free and searched for the handkerchief she’d shoved back into her pocket. “I just...it was so unexpected. I know we’re at that age where these things happen, but...”
I didn’t know what to say.
I wasn’t naïve to the fact that people died in retirement communities. For most of them, this was their last stop, the home they would be in for the rest of their lives. Oasis Ridge had some units that were equipped for assisted living and memory care. As long as a resident didn’t require continuous or intensive medical care, they often didn’t have to be moved during their final months or years.
We’d had a few residents pass during my time there, and I’d lost a few at the nursing home where I first worked after I’d graduated, so this experience wasn’t new to me. Elderly people died, often at a faster rate than younger folks. It was simply a fact of life.
But knowing this—expecting it, even—didn’t make it any easier to experience.
I hadn’t lost any of my favorite residents yet, and I was already bracing myself for when that time came.
I immediately thought of Billie Applegate, the redheaded woman who’d yelled out to me when I’d walked back in from my vacation yesterday morning. I’d taken to her from the first day I’d started at Oasis Ridge, and not just because she had the same hair color as me. Of course, her hair was dyed and mine was natural, but she always referred to me as her younger self. No, I liked her for much more than her almost matching hair color. I liked her spunk, her sass, her sarcastic sense of humor. She always knew how to make me smile, even after dour conversations with Anne.
“I heard the news,” a voice said from behind us.
Speak of the devil.
Anne was standing next to the couch, her hands clasped in front of her, her worried expression visible behind her purple glasses.
She leaned over and patted Mary’s shoulder. “How are you doing, dear? Can I get you anything? A cup of tea, perhaps?” Anne gave me a look that suggested I should have thought of this.
I was immediately defensive. “I already offered her one.”
Mary nodded. “That would be nice.”
Anne gave me a reproachful look and I bit my lip in frustration.
I couldn’t win.
I stood up. “I’m going to see how everyone else is doing, see if I can get any more information. You’ll be okay?”
Mary nodded and dabbed at her eyes again. Anne had already gone to fetch a cup of tea so I knew she wouldn’t be alone for long.
I hurried back to the dining room, watching as the paramedics began to wheel the stretcher out, Arthur’s body covered by the white sheet.
I watched solemnly as they rolled by. I’d always liked Arthur, despite the fact that he could be a bit of a curmudgeon. He’d never been particularly mean or ornery toward me, and he was usually willing to try any of the new activities I managed to get Anne to approve. Yes, he’d been grumpy about his table and his food, but everyone had their faults, right?
The crowd of residents and employees began to thin as soon as the paramedics left. Even though it was now five o’clock, right when dinner was to be served, no one made a move to enter the dining room. In fact, they had all turned away, heading to their rooms or back to their stations. I scoped out the dining room and saw Denise looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights.
I made my way toward her. She was standing near Arthur’s table, a tray loaded with plates full of food in her hands.
“Did you see what happened?” I asked.
Her complexion was a couple of shades lighter than normal and her dark eyes looked hollow. “No,” she said, shaking her head. She set her tray down and I noticed that her hands shook as she lowered it. “We’d just started getting ready to serve. I’d brought drinks out. Mary and Arthur already had their food because they got here so early. Billie and her friends were at their table and I was bringing them their meal when there was some kind of...commotion.”
“Commotion?”
Denise nodded, then swiped at a stray black lock that brushed against her cheek. “I heard this big thumping sound and when I glanced over, Arthur’s head was on the table. It was like he just fell over.”
“Did you check on him?”
She frowned. “Of course I checked on him. What kind of person do you think I am?” Her expression clouded. “I could tell pretty quick that he wasn’t breathing. I called to Lola and Ruth, and then I tried the Heimlich on him. But he wasn’t even conscious. I was pretty sure he hadn’t choked.”
“Ruth? Why did you call out for Ruth?” Lola was the cook, so it made sense that Denise would summon her for help, but Ruth was another resident, and I didn’t think she’d had any type of medical career in the past.
“She was helping serve tonight,” Denise told me. “Patty’s out sick, remember? And Lola was upset that residents were complaining about the wait times at lunch. Ruth had offered to help during the noon meal so I asked if she’d be willing to step in during dinner.”
I imagined that probably made Ruth’s night.
Until someone died.
I glanced over at the table where Arthur and Mary had been seated.
“And Mary wasn’t with him?” I asked.
“Of course she was. Those two are always together,” Denise said. “But she stepped out. I think to the ladies room.”
That was exactly what Mary had told me.
I took a deep breath. It sounded like maybe Arthur had suffered a massive heart attack. Or an aneurysm. Or something else that had rendered him lifeless in seconds. It at least sounded like he hadn’t suffered, which was a good thing.
But I was still sad that he was gone.
I looked one last time at the table. The two plates of food were still there, Arthur’s half empty. Mary’s mug still had the teabag sitting in it.
My thoughts immediately returned to Mary.
She and Arthur had been each other’s meal date for months, pretty much ever since Mary had moved to Oasis Ridge. I wondered who she would sit with now. Who she would talk to. What she would do with all of her time, and who she would do it with.
Anne’s frequent words played in my mind.
Change isn’t always a good thing.
I hated it to admit it, but in this case, she was absolutely right.