Kathleen Eagle: In Care of Sam Beaudry

What the hell?

He called the office to check in with Phoebe Shooter, his deputy, told her to “woman the fort” and then stationed himself in a chair with a view. Had everything covered—the door to the ICU, the nurse’s station, the outside world through a window in the lobby down the hall…everything except what he was getting paid for. He should have been finishing the paperwork he’d left on his desk so he could take a ride out to the abandoned Osterhaus place and check out Minnie Lampert’s umpteenth sighting of “suspicious activity.” Any change with Merilee, he’d get a call from somebody. His mother was hovering over the girl like they were cuffed to each other, and they’d both been admitted to the room with Merilee.

Was that a bad sign?

“Where was the little girl?”

Sam turned toward the welcome sound of Maggie’s voice. Her question didn’t register, but the just-between-us look in her green eyes did. She handed him a warm foam cup with a plastic lid as she settled into the chair next to his. “We were looking for her in the motel room,” she explained.

“At the store, I guess.” He peeled back the tab on the plastic lid. “Ma has a way with strays.”

“Strays? That’s an odd—”

“Looks like she strayed off to the store and left her mother in a bad way without any…” He trailed off on a sip of black coffee.

“She’s just a little girl, Sam.” She glanced toward the door marked Intensive Care as she took a drink from her own cup. “Where are they from? Do the Gossets know anything about the woman?”

“Merilee Brown,” he said quietly.

“Other than what’s on the registration card.”

“I don’t know what’s on the registration card. She used to work at a truck stop in Wyoming. She moved to California eight, close to nine years ago.”

“You know her?”

She sounded startled. Like she didn’t know he’d ever been outside Bear Root County. Not that they’d ever talked about his travels. Generally, that was where his mother came in, talking up his so-called adventures.

“I didn’t know she was here in town. Can’t imagine what she’d be doing here.” He braced his elbows on his knees, cradled the coffee between his hands and studied the jagged hole in the lid. “Is it drugs?”

“I don’t know,” she said solemnly. “Jay found some meds, but I didn’t see what they were. Does she use?”

“She did when I knew her. I haven’t seen her since I joined the marines. How bad off is she?”

“It doesn’t look good. They took her to X-ray.”

Maggie settled back in her chair. Her white skirt crept a few inches above her knees. The other nurses wore white pants, but not Maggie. He couldn’t figure out whether she was old-fashioned or she just liked dresses better. She looked good in a dress, even if it was a uniform, but she might have blended in a little better if she wore pants.

Or not. Maggie was different, no doubt about that. Blending wasn’t her way. Not that he was an authority on the ways of Maggie Whiteside, but he’d taken considerable notice. Thought a lot about studying up.

“Were you close?” she asked.

He pushed up on his thigh with the heel of his hand and questioned her with a look.

“Well, she’s lying there unconscious, and nobody else around here seems to know her. Just you.”

“It’s been a lotta years, Maggie, what can I tell you? She did weed, coke, pills and I don’t know what else, but I never saw her like this.” He gave a jerk of his chin. “And she didn’t have any kids. How old is—”

He squared up at the sight of his mother rounding the corner of the hallway just past ICU with a reluctant little girl in tow. The child homed in on Nurse Maggie, down-shifted for traction and marched past the nurse’s station like a little soldier, all business. “They took my mom somewhere, but they won’t tell me what’s wrong with her. Do you know?”

“Not yet, sweetie. The doctor’s trying to figure that out right now.”

“Can’t she wake up?”

“The doctor’s working on getting her to wake up. Has she been sick very long?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I think so. I know she was sick on the bus. She doesn’t like to ride the bus. She said she’d be better after she got to sleep in a bed for a while.” She turned and stared at the ICU door. “Why can’t I stay with her?”

“Because the doctor wants us all out of the way for right now. He’s the one who can help your mom, but he needs room to maneuver.” Maggie scooted to the edge of her chair and touched the back of her lanky little arm, testing. “I know it’s hard to wait.”

Tension melted visibly from the small shoulders as Maggie’s hand stirred, but still the girl stared as though she could see through walls. “What’s he doing to her?”

“They’re taking pictures. Do you know what an X-ray is?”

“Yes. I had one on my arm last year.”

“After the doctor’s finished, they’ll bring her back to that same room, which is where we take extra special care of our patients. You’ll be able to see her again for a few minutes. I’ll make sure.” Maggie stood, sliding her hand over the girl’s shoulder as security against her promise. “Are you hungry?”

An attendant appeared and called Maggie’s number with a gesture. She patted the little girl’s shoulder. “Hilda, would you take…”

“Star,” Hilda supplied.

“…Star to the lounge and get her something to eat?”

Once Star was out of earshot, Maggie turned to Sam. “Did the woman come looking for you?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

She stared at him for a moment as though she thought he had more answers than he’d given. Like he’d ever known what was on Merilee’s mind, which was why he answered the way he did. He wasn’t being a smart-ass.

But Maggie must have thought so. She distanced herself with a step, a look and a tone. “Let’s hope we get the chance.”

Sam nodded, but Maggie turned from him and missed it. She had nursing to do.

Hoping had never helped much where Merilee was concerned, but he was willing to give it another shot at Maggie’s suggestion. Hope she could beat whatever this was and come back to her kid. Meanwhile he had to figure out who the hell he should notify if hope didn’t fly. Heading for his car, he thought up one more hope—that the person to contact in Merilee’s behalf didn’t turn out to be Vic Randone.

He checked in at the office and then took a run out to the Osterhaus place, which was tucked into the foothills just below the little high country town of Bear Root. Old Bill Osterhaus had been dead more than a year, and his relatives had sold what little stock and equipment he’d had, but they were still fighting over what to do with the property. His neighbor, Minnie, who was as old as the hills with a head twice as hard, had visions of “squatters” moving in. Sam stopped in to let the old woman know that the only squatters he’d found this time were four-legged, but that she should call him whenever she had concerns. He meant it. Hell, she was a voter.

He meant to drive right on past the hospital when he got back into town, but he hadn’t heard any news, and it was just as easy to stop as call, especially on the chance there had been some improvement. He found Merilee—or the shell of Merilee—alone in the cool, antiseptic-smelling, closely monitored room. He straddled a chair, rested his forearms over the backrest, listened to a soft rush of air and a machine’s rhythmic beep. Watching her pale purple eyelids twitch, waiting for something else to stir, wondering what, if anything, was going on inside that crazy head—oh, yeah, he’d been there before.

“What’s goin’ on, Merilee?” He stacked his fists end to end and rested his chin in the curl of his thumb and forefinger. “Tell me. Maybe I can—” damn your thick head, Beaudry, don’t even think it “—help.”