4

“He’s surprised to see you here,” Susie said.

Faye nodded. She, too, had seen the surprise in Tommy Livingston’s face here at the cemetery when he had set eyes on her. He hadn’t seen her in the crowd of mourners who had attended church, although she thought Todd, one of his sons, might have seen her.

“The poor man looks like he’s had half his soul lopped off,” Susie whispered. Faye glared at her so she would keep quiet. She didn’t want to bring her to the funeral; Susie was always bad at funerals. The church was crowded, so she told Susie to remain in the car. She wasn’t good attending church services anyway, especially funeral services. She would hobble down the aisle and stop where the immediate family was sitting and say the most outrageous things, especially to the children. In Susie’s eyes, the children didn’t suffer as much grief as did the surviving spouse.

That was all well and true if the surviving spouse had really been devoted to his or her lost loved one, but despite what Susie wanted to believe, Faye knew it hadn’t been the case when it came to their father. Susie just didn’t know it all; she just didn’t know. There were things Faye didn’t want her to know. Susie was too fragile. If she had endured one-tenth of what Faye had endured … but she was always asleep or in another room when Daddy paid his visits.

“Look at him,” Susie continued, whispering into Faye’s ear, “He looks like a man who’s had half of everything he’s lived for removed. He’s like a one-legged, one-armed man tilting, ready to fall. Doesn’t your heart go out to him? I feel like rushing forward to be there as his crutch.”

“Don’t you move,” Faye warned. Susie was capable of simply doing what she said: stepping forward between the members of the family and taking Tommy Livingston’s arm. “Get back in the car.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Faye muttered under her breath. “Back in the car this instant.”

“But …”

She turned and gave her one of her furious looks: her eyes wide, her lips drawn back so firmly there were patches of white in the corners of her mouth. As usual Susie cowered back and obeyed. Faye breathed with relief.

She thought Tommy Livingston smiled when he looked her way again. Most of the time, he had had his eyes down. He didn’t really look around until the minister had completed the prayers and the mourners who had followed the hearse to the burial plot turned to go, some passing by him and shaking his hand, the women kissing him. She stood waiting as these people filed by. Finally, he said some things to his sons and started toward her.

“It’s very nice of you to attend the funeral,” he said. Instead of replying, she reached out and squeezed his hand. He appeared to appreciate that gesture more than any words anyway. “We have some refreshments at the house for close friends, relatives. Why don’t you come?”

“I will,” she said. He nodded and joined his family at the limousine. She saw from the expression on his son Perry’s face that he didn’t recall who she was, probably because she was out of uniform. The uniform did turn her into another person with an entirely different personality, as she thought it did for most people who wore uniforms. Everyone was a bit schizophrenic: cops, firemen, even doormen, because their voices changed, their posture, even the way they looked at people changed once they put on their uniforms. She was no different.

Faye hurried back to her car.

“Where are we going?” Susie asked.

“I’m going to the Livingston residence. You’re going home.”

“Why?”

“I just know that’s best.”

“But …”

“Don’t argue with me today, Susie. I’m not in the mood.”

“But you promised …”

“I know and I will tell him about you.”

“I should have introduced myself to him in the hospital instead of rushing off before he saw me,” Susie complained.

“I said I would tell him and I will. Have I ever lied to you? Well, have I?”

“You know you have,” Susie said. She looked away quickly so she wouldn’t feel Faye’s ire. In silence they drove back to their apartment. Susie got out without a word and hurried toward the front door, and Faye drove on to Tommy Livingston’s house.

He had a beautiful Sante Fe–style home on a small bluff in southeast Rancho Mirage. From his rear patio, you could look down on the Ritz Carlton Hotel and its grounds, and, according to Tommy, if you came out in the early morning, you could often see bighorn sheep grazing on the side of the bluff.

The furniture was all Southwestern, with a lot of pinks and blues in the carpets, wall hangings, and linens. Indian art and replicas of Remingtons were exhibited in almost every one of the seven rooms. There were skylights and large windows that provided natural light during the long desert days and great views of the valley and sky during the nights. Many of the features, such as the remote-controlled ground lights and the pool lights, filter, and jacuzzi blower, were state-of-the-art and were features Tommy Livingston had put into all the homes he had designed.

A crowd of about two dozen friends and relatives had returned to the house. The daughters-in-law were busy commanding the temporary servants and setting up the food and drink. The sons held court in the den, talking softly to their own friends. The children were relegated to the rear and told to stay out of everyone’s way.

Faye wandered through, gazing at everything with interest, for the lives of her patients, more often than not, fascinated her, especially the patients who seemed to have had good marriages, people who really appeared to be in love. Despite what Susie thought, Faye believed love was a fairy tale.

Anyway, she often tried to imagine what their homes and their lives outside of the hospital were like, and Susie was always grilling her with questions when she returned from the hospital. Some patients did tell her things, even rather personal things about their families. More mothers than she cared to mention complained about their children or the women and men their children had married. Some wives complained about their husbands. On the whole, she found her female patients more open about their lives and families than the male patients.

Faye wandered into Tommy Livingston’s office and gazed at the pictures of his family on his desk. Sylvia Livingston had been a very pretty woman, just like her own mother, Faye thought. She had the same sort of half smile, tantalizing, and didn’t she have the same color hair about the same length? Hadn’t her parents taken a similar picture on a stairway? Why was everything so foggy now, all her memories intermingling with the things she now saw? It made her dizzy for a moment and she leaned against the wall.

She was so far to the right, in fact, that Tommy Livingston didn’t see her when he first came in and went to his desk. He took the wedding picture in his hands and stared down at it. Then his shoulders began to shake.

She wanted to slip away so she wouldn’t embarrass him, but he turned around and saw her before she could leave.

“Oh,” he said sucking in his breath. “I …”

“It’s all right, Mr. Livingston. It’s okay to have a good cry. Keeping it pent up only makes it worse,” she said. He nodded.

“Yes.” He looked toward the doorway.

“You don’t want to cry in front of your boys or your grandchildren, I know,” Faye said dryly.

“No, I don’t,” he admitted.

As if she were back in the hospital and in control of things, she went to the den door and closed it. “I know you want to get away from people for a while,” she said. “Come, sit down.” She nodded toward the leather settee and he followed obediently. He sat with his hands in his lap and stared at the floor.

“Do you want something to drink … a glass of water?” He shook his head.

“It’s nice of you to still be interested in us,” Tommy said.

“My sister is always bawling me out for treating people like numbers. Most nurses I know do.”

He started to smile skeptically.

“No, it’s true. Why, I know some nurses who’ve walked past their former patients in department stores, not recognizing them anymore. I’m not that bad, but I do try to remain detached, especially when I know I have a critical case.”

“I can understand that. I can’t imagine going through this more than once,” he said, nodding.

“We do what we must do,” she replied. Then she looked toward the desk and the photographs. “But I’m glad I came here and saw what Mrs. Livingston looked like when she was younger.”

“She was a very beautiful woman. I was very lucky.”

“Yes, you were.” She sat back and smiled as though she were reminiscing with him. Susie says husbands and wives grow closer in their senior years. Especially after their children are married and gone,” she added.

“Sylvia never let go of her sons, marriages or no marriages,” he said.

“A son must cleave to his wife and a daughter to her husband. It’s only natural. It’s harder for a mother to accept that than it is for a father, I suppose.”

“You sound a lot older than you are,” he replied, impressed.

“I am older in many ways than other people my age. I’m glad you see me that way, Mr. Livingston.”

“Call me Tommy. You’re not my employee any more.”

She smiled. He was a very vulnerable, sad man. He needed Susie.

“So you have a sister?”

“Yes. I have a twin sister who lives with me here in Palm Springs.”

“You don’t say, a twin sister?”

“Yes, Susie.”

“And what does she do?”

“Susie likes caring for people and keeping their homes clean and in order. She didn’t go to college. She’s had a number of different jobs, tried being a secretary and hated it. It took her a while, but she’s really found herself now that she’s gone into domestic service.”

“Really? Is that what she’s doing here?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t work regularly. She likes to meet different people.”

“She’s not married then?”

“No. Susie is … rather shy. She was born with a leg problem, so she wears a brace. But it doesn’t hold her back when it comes to work. She could be of great service to you, especially now. I don’t expect you’ll keep this house the way it used to be kept by your wife.”

“Hardly,” he said smiling.

“Susie could be of some help, at least until you adjust.”

“Sure. Bring her around,” Tommy said.

“I’ll send her over tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Tommy said.

They sat there talking softly for a while and then she accompanied him when he returned to the den. All of the mourners gazed with curiosity.

“This is Faye Sullivan,” Tommy announced. “She was Sylvia’s private-duty nurse.”

Perry and Todd nodded with recognition now. They watched with interest as their father brought her to the food in the dining room. Faye was still sitting in the living room, perusing some family albums when Perry and Todd, their wives and children, were getting ready to leave.

“You can come to our house, Tom,” Perry’s wife said. Todd’s wife immediately made a similar suggestion.

“No, I’ve got to get used to being alone. No sense in postponing it. You guys go on, get on with your lives, and don’t worry about me,” he said, pulling his shoulders up to resume his normal firm demeanor.

“I’ll call, Dad,” Todd said. “And if you need anything …”

“I’ll stay with him awhile longer,” Faye suddenly volunteered. Everyone gazed at her, the sons looking surprised at first and then a bit grateful; the daughters-in-law simply looked a bit amused.

“There, see. I’m still in the hands of an expert,” Tommy said.

His daughters-in-law kissed him and his sons hugged him. Then they all moved out. Tommy followed them to the door. Shortly afterward the caterers left, too, even though there was cleaning left to do. Tommy voiced his annoyance.

“It’s all right,” Faye said, gathering the dirty paper plates. “I told them to go.”

“You did? Why?”

“At a time like this, you don’t need a bunch of strangers lingering around the house, banging pots and pans and vacuuming. You need peace and quiet, meditation time.”

“But why should you …”

“I don’t mind. I used to work as a maid, you know,” she said. “While I was attending nursing school, I hired myself out and made what I needed for living expenses.”

He stood there watching her sweep through the living room, adjusting furniture, fixing pillows, brushing crumbs off the coffee tables.

“Most of my father’s extra money went toward medical bills in those days.”

He closed his eyes and the moment he did, he swayed. Faye was at his side instantly.

“Easy,” she said. “You’re far more mentally and emotionally exhausted then you realize. Come on, get to bed. I want you to rest.” She had looked around the house when she first arrived, so she knew where to lead him. He followed obediently, surprised and frightened by his weakness.

“All of a sudden,” he explained, “my legs felt like they had turned into sticks of butter.”

“Not unusual.” She brought him to his bed. He sat down, dazed, and watched as she began to undo his tie and then unbutton his shirt.

“Got my own private duty nurse, huh?” he said, smiling.

“Oh,” she said, pulling back suddenly, “I didn’t mean to …”

“No, no, that’s all right. I appreciate what you’ve done and what you’re doing, Faye. Thank you. I’ll undress myself and lie down awhile.”

“Did the doctor give you any sedatives?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll need any.”

“Yes you will,” she said authoritatively. “You’re exhausted, but sleep isn’t easy to come by when you’re as emotionally wounded as you are now. Believe me, you’ll drift off, but you’ll keep waking up with a start, hoping this has all been a nightmare.”

He stared at her. What she said made sense.

“Sylvia must have had some sedatives. I’ll look in your medicine cabinet,” she said. She already had and knew what was there. A few moments later, she returned with two red-tinted gelatin tablets and a glass of water.

“What’s that?” Tommy asked. He had taken off his pants and was under the blanket.

“Chloral hydrate. It’s a common sleeping pill,” she added to relieve any anxieties he might have. She wouldn’t tell him that this compound when given in larger doses was more famously known as a Mickey Finn. He nodded and smiled.

“Forgot I had a nurse.” He took the pills and chased them down with some water.

“You just sleep,” Faye said. “I’ll stay as long as I can before leaving for the hospital.”

“You shouldn’t spend your time here, Faye. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your time off than care for a grieving husband,” Tommy said. He closed his eyes when he felt her hand on his forehead. It made him feel secure and relaxed and he drifted off.

Faye stared at him and watched him sleep. He reminded her a little of her father after he had come into her room and crawled in bed beside her, moaning about how lonely he was. Mother hadn’t let him sleep with her for some time. He always began by telling her he just wanted to feel someone he loved beside him. He just wanted to hold someone he loved, touch someone he loved. She kept her eyes closed but it happened anyway, and then afterward he fell asleep and looked just like Tommy Livingston, dead to the world.

When Susie thought Daddy was too lonely and should join their mother in heaven, Faye didn’t stop her. He should be dead to the world, she thought angrily; and then afterward she thought, maybe Susie was right, if not about Daddy, at least about other people. Maybe people who were really in love and together so long really couldn’t stand being apart. She never told Susie, but she wished there were something like eternal love between two people, because if it existed, maybe it would exist for her one day.

She looked at Tommy Livingston again and recalled how he had shuddered and cried when he came into that room and looked at his wife’s picture, and then she was struck with an idea.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful, she thought, if when he woke up, Susie was already here caring for him, easing his suffering. She knew how anxious Susie was. She rose quickly to call her, but at the phone, she hesitated.

I shouldn’t do this, she thought. She knew what it would lead to, didn’t she? But when she looked back toward Tommy Livingston’s bedroom again, her resistance waned.

“I can’t help it,” she muttered. “Susie should be here. He does need her and she … needs to help him.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and then she made the call.