groaning misery that followed him down the hallway. The smell of antiseptic and urine hung heavy on the air, but he was used to the scent by now. He hardly even noticed it.
An old woman sat alone in a wheelchair outside her room, and as he passed by her, she reached for him with a bony hand.
“Can you help me?”
Matthew paused, annoyed. “What seems to be the problem?”
“I can’t find my room.”
He glanced at the photograph and name mounted on the door nearest her wheelchair. “Are you Mrs. Avondale?”
“How did you know?”
“Just a wild guess.” He pushed open the door. “This is your room.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, positive.”
He started to turn away, but the woman grabbed his hand. Lifting it to her face, she rubbed his knuckles against her wrinkled cheek. “You’re a good son.”
“I’m glad you think so. Would you like me to help you to your room now?”
“No, I’d better sit out here and wait for the bus to come. I don’t want to miss it. I’m going to see my husband today. He’s stationed at Fort Bragg. It’ll be my first time out of Louisiana.”
“Enjoy your trip,” he said with a little bow, and he heard her giggle like a schoolgirl as he turned and continued down the corridor to his father’s room. A nurse was just coming out and she brightened when she saw him.
“Hello Dr. Cypher. You’re early today.”
“I have some things to do later on, but I didn’t want to miss a visit with my father. I know he looks forward to our time together.”
“If only everyone’s family was as thoughtful as you,” she said with a weary smile.
He cocked his head and studied the young woman. She was probably only thirty or so, but her careworn expression and slouching posture made her seem much older, as did a missing tooth when she smiled. She was a hard worker, though, and he did not envy her the dreary job.
Feeling suddenly charitable, he lingered for a little talk. “What’s the matter? You don’t seem yourself today.”
She sighed. “My boyfriend’s gone AWOL on me again, and I can’t help worrying he may be in some real trouble this time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Desiree Choate gave a halfhearted smile as she shrugged. “Mama says it’s a blessing in disguise. She ain’t never had much use for Travis, even though I tell her over and over he has a good heart. He’s just a little shiftless, is all.”
“Not Travis McSwain?”
Her brows lifted in surprise. “Yeah, that’s him. Do you know him?”
“I’ve seen him around. He used to do odd jobs around the house for my aunt from time to time. Her name is Savannah Sweete. He may have mentioned her. She makes dolls.”
Desiree’s gaze darted away, but not before he’d seen a spark of fear in her eyes.
So she knows. She’s seen the doll.
He gave her a pitying smile. “Where do you think Travis has gone off to?”
“God only knows. He’ll probably turn up one of these days, tail tucked between his legs like always. But just between me and you…I’ve been having me some real bad dreams lately. I can’t help thinking maybe it’s because something bad has happened to him.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“A few days, I guess. He drove into New Orleans the other evening and I ain’t seen him since.”
“Have you gone to the police?”
“The police? Oh, Lord no. Travis would kill me if I sicced the law on his tail.”
“Why? Has he done something wrong?”
“No, he just don’t like cops much,” she said quickly, as if realizing she might have given away too much. “It’s been nice talking to you, doc, but I better get back to work.”
“I wouldn’t worry about Travis. If anything had happened to him, don’t you think you would have heard something by now?”
“I guess so. Maybe he’s just laid up drunk somewhere. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’m sure you’ll be hearing something very soon. In the meantime, perhaps this will help cheer you up.”
She glanced down at the orchid he held out to her, and her eyes widened. “Oh, it’s beautiful, but I couldn’t take it. You brought it for your daddy.”
“He won’t mind. Please, I insist.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” She lifted the delicate blossom to her nose. “Is this one of your orchids? What kind is it?”
“A cymbidium.”
“Is it rare?”
“Oh, yes, extremely,” he said, although it wasn’t, of course. But the silly twit wouldn’t know the difference.
Desiree glanced at the closed door to his father’s room. “It’s probably a good thing you came early today. He seems a mite restless this morning. Maybe your visit will help calm him down.”
Matthew smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He opened the door and walked through. The old man lay on his back, eyes to the ceiling, hands motionless on either side of him. His lips were parted and a stream of drool had run out one corner of his mouth and dried on his cheek.
The room stank. It always did. No matter how many times the staff came in to change and bathe the old man, he somehow managed to soil himself before their every visit. It might have been annoying if it wasn’t so pathetic.
The curtained partition that separated the two beds had been slid back, and Matthew nodded to his father’s roommate. Mr. Campbell was another stroke patient, paralyzed on both sides with an almost complete loss of speech. He was slightly elevated in bed, and his faded eyes watched with wary detachment as Matthew approached.
“Hello, Mr. Campbell. How are you today?”
He blinked rapidly, but Matthew didn’t have a clue what that meant, so he shrugged and walked over to his father’s bedside.
“Hello, Father.” He bent to kiss the man’s forehead. The skin beneath his lips was dry like parchment and stretched so tightly across brittle bones that his face resembled a skull. The old man was awake and conscious. His mouth moved slightly, as if he was trying to say something. Or perhaps he merely wanted to close it.
“Desiree tells me you had a restless night. I’m so sorry. I should have come sooner.” He bent and lowered his voice. “Because that just won’t do, Father. We can’t have you causing trouble, now can we?”
He pulled a syringe from his pocket and held it up to the light. The old man’s mouth moved frantically now as his eyes darted back and forth. He knew what was coming.
Smiling, Matthew placed his lips close to the old man’s ear. “Tell me something, Father. How does it feel to be trapped inside that body?”
His father responded with a pathetic moan that didn’t even sound human.
Matthew straightened. “Where do you want your injection today? In the thigh, underneath the arm, between the toes? So many possibilities…”
Taking a few steps toward the end of the bed, he pulled up the blanket and sheet, exposing legs that resembled brittle blue branches. Matthew uncapped the syringe, and as he jabbed the needle into his father’s thigh, he glanced across the room.
The old man in the other bed lay watching him, and slowly Matthew brought his finger up to his lips.
“Shush. Don’t tell.”
