“What did you say?” Vanessa whispered, her voice suddenly hollow. “Where in Indiana?”
“A township outside South Bend,” I said, confused by her reaction. “She saved a little girl from a house fire. The girl was three. Her name was Nora.”
Vanessa staggered backward, hitting the wall. She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. Her breathing grew shallow and rapid, her eyes wide with a shock that bordered on madness.
“My mother,” Vanessa choked out, tears instantly spilling over her eyelashes. “My mother’s name is Nora. She grew up in South Bend. She spent her entire life trying to find the woman who shielded her from the fire.”
We stood in the dim hallway, the silence ringing in our ears, as the invisible threads of a forty-year-old miracle pulled agonizingly tight around us.
Vanessa reached a trembling hand into her scrub pocket, pulling out her cell phone. The screen cast a blue glow on her pale, shocked face.
Vanessa’s hands shook so violently she dropped her phone twice before finally dialing the number. It was past 11:00 PM, but I heard the line connect almost immediately.
“Mom,” Vanessa sobbed into the receiver, sliding down the hallway wall until she was sitting on the cold linoleum. “Mom, please listen to me. Are you sitting down? The woman… the woman from the fire. I think I’m standing outside her room.”
I couldn’t hear the response on the other end, but I heard Vanessa let out a choked, wet gasp. “Yes. Oakridge. Room 7. Mom… she’s in trouble.”
Vanessa hung up and looked up at me, her eyes completely changed. The bitter, arrogant nurse was gone, replaced by a terrified daughter staring at the savior of her bloodline.
“My mother is driving up from Chicago,” Vanessa whispered, wiping her face. “She’s a partner at a massive corporate law firm now. She said… she said she’ll be here by dawn.”
But dawn was exactly when the executioners were scheduled to arrive.
I didn’t sleep that night. I sat in the hard plastic chair in the nurses’ station, watching the clock tick mercilessly toward 8:00 AM. I had logged Edith’s bath in the system. The health code violation was cleared. But I knew that wouldn’t stop Carter. He didn’t care about the bath; he only cared about the narrative of his mother’s insanity.
At 7:45 AM, the front doors of Oakridge slid open.
Carter marched in, flanked by Mr. Vance, the sleek lawyer, and an older man holding a leather-bound ledger—a Notary Public. Following close behind them was Director Higgins, holding a thick stack of manila folders.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I stood up, blocking the hallway leading to Room 7.
“Move, Hailey,” Higgins snapped, her eyes flashing with irritation. “I saw your log. A forced bath at night doesn’t change the fact that this woman is mentally unstable. Carter has the emergency Power of Attorney documents ready to be notarized. We are transferring her.”
“You can’t do this,” I said, my voice shaking, though I didn’t move. “She is perfectly lucid. You just want her money, Carter!”
Carter scoffed, stepping into my personal space, towering over me. “Listen to me, you little dropout. My mother is a paranoid, psychotic liability. She screams when people touch her. She locks herself in bathrooms. She’s a danger to herself. Now get out of my way before I have Vance here sue you for harassment.”
He shoved past me, his shoulder hitting me hard enough to send me stumbling against the wall. The procession marched toward Room 7.
I scrambled after them, my stomach twisting in knots. If Nora didn’t arrive in the next three minutes, Edith was lost.
Carter didn’t knock. He shoved the door to Room 7 open.
Edith was sitting in her chair by the window. But she wasn’t alone.
Sitting on the edge of Edith’s bed was a woman who commanded the air in the room the second you looked at her. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, dressed in an impeccably tailored navy-blue suit. Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant knot, and a heavy, expensive trench coat was draped over her lap.
It was Nora.
Carter stopped in his tracks, Vance bumping into his back. “Who the hell are you?” Carter demanded. “Visiting hours don’t start until ten. Get out. We are conducting legal family business.”
Nora didn’t even look at him. Her eyes, rimmed red with fresh tears, were locked entirely on Edith.
“Carter,” Edith said, her voice surprisingly steady. “This is an old friend.”
“I don’t care if she’s the Queen of England,” Carter snarled, snatching the clipboard from Vance and slamming it onto Edith’s tray table. “Sign the paper, Mother. You’re going to Sunny Pines. You’ve lost your mind, and I am taking control of the estate before you burn it to the ground.”
Edith looked at the pen, then at her son. “I’m not crazy, Carter. I was just… hiding.”
“Hiding from what?!” Carter exploded, his patience entirely gone. “You’re delusional! You haven’t let anyone touch your back in forty years! You’re a freak, Mother! You’re a damaged, insane liability!”
Silence slammed into the room. It was an ugly, unforgivable thing to say, hanging in the air like toxic smoke.
Nora stood up slowly.
“May I?” Nora asked, her voice soft, but carrying a weight that made even Mr. Vance take a half-step back. She was looking at Edith.
Edith closed her eyes. A tear slipped down her wrinkled cheek. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she unbuttoned her blouse, and let it slip off her shoulders.