What She Deserved Read online

  "Yeah, that makes you happy, doesn't it?"

  Mari nodded and closed her eyes.

  *****

  "Must get your strength up."

  The cheerful woman in the hat was back.

  "Dr. Fletcher is on his way. He'll be here any minute now."

  Mari closed her eyes.

  *****

  "Marigold." It was a man's voice. Mari opened her eyes. A man in scrubs smiled at her. "We're going to take the tube out."

  Mari assumed this was Dr. Fletcher. Several young people were assisting him and they removed the tape keeping the tube in place.

  "Are you ready?" the doctor asked. Mari nodded. "One, two, three..."

  He pulled it out and Mari choked. A young woman standing next to her held her head up and another held a kidney-shaped plastic dish underneath her chin. When they were sure she wouldn't vomit, they let her go. She lay back on her pillow and breathed.

  "Are you in any pain?" the doctor asked.

  "Yes." Mari's voice was hoarse. The young woman grabbed her drinking cup and held it in front of her mouth. Mari took a sip.

  "I'll leave an order for medication," he said. "You're going to be tired. Don't fight it. You need to rest." He noted something in the laptop. "I'll be in tomorrow morning. Do you have any questions?"

  "Where am I?" she mouthed.

  "Oceanville General Hospital. You were in an accident."

  Screeching tires. Crunching metal. Black ice. Mari closed her eyes against the memory.

  Mari

  Day 5

  "How was your night?" Mari's heart jumped. It was the woman in the hat. "Did you evacuate your bowels?"

  "Not yet."

  "Well, then, we might have to help it along."

  Her shit had become a frequent topic of conversation since she'd woken up. She knew what "help it along" meant and wished she'd said, "Yes, I passed a big one this morning," but it was too late now.

  Mari looked at the hat and thought it looked like the ones nurses wore years ago. The woman held a chart and a pen, and she wore glasses. Her uniform was white, and when she walked away, Mari noted that she wore white stockings and shoes. The other nurses wore scrubs, so the woman's daily appearance was a mystery. She was also the only one using a chart and pen to take notes.

  "I keep forgetting to ask you your name," Mari said.

  The woman looked over the rim of her glasses at Mari. "I'm Nurse Cabot. Do you remember what happened to you?"

  "I was in an accident."

  "Good girl." The nurse noted the chart. "Do you know what day it is?"

  "No."

  "Do you know what month it is?"

  "No."

  Mari's voice was still raspy, and her throat hurt. The nurse's pitiful look pissed her off. Mari knew what she was thinking - poor Marigold. Her mind is mush.

  Mari closed her eyes and swallowed.

  "I need some water."

  She waited for the nurse to say something, and when she didn't, Mari opened her eyes and saw that the nurse was gone. She searched for the remote and pushed the buttons until it started raising her head. The dizzy, swimming sensation she felt was awful, so she took her thumb off the button and went back down. She closed her eyes again, but that made it worse. She felt cold. She felt sad, or was it depression? She could never tell the difference.

  "'Morning, Miss Burnside."

  The nurse in scrubs was back. The name on her badge read "Cassandra Torrance, R.N." "I'm Cassie. You're looking all chipper this morning."

  "I'm sure," Mari said.

  The nurse smiled. "Is your head still swimming?" Mari nodded. "It might get better if you sit up."

  "I tried."

  "And what happened?"

  "It got worse."

  Cassie typed some notes into Mari's digital chart, and then came to the side of the bed and put a thermometer in Mari's mouth before she took her pulse and blood pressure.

  "Your temp is normal and your blood pressure is low."

  Cassie entered the numbers into the computer. She glanced at Mari, and her eyes radiated sympathy. Mari liked her, even when she pushed the button on her bed remote and raised Mari's head. The dizziness made her stomach churn.

  "I've gotta go down," Mari said.

  "Let's just do this for a minute."

  Mari swallowed hard and fought the urge to hit Cassie.

  "Please let me down."

  "A few more seconds."

  Her head began to clear and her eyes focused. She could see out the window now, and saw that the cars in the parking lot were covered in snow. Her breathing settled, but the pain between her eyes grew worse.

  "My head hurts."

  "Do you remember what happened to you?" Cassie asked.

  "I already told that other nurse."

  Cassie looked at her strangely. "What did you tell her?"

  "That I was in an accident."

  "That's right, and you hit your head pretty hard. You were in a coma for two days." Cassie picked up Mari's wrist. "See this band? It says 'I can't walk alone.' That means you can't get out of bed by yourself, so don't try going to the bathroom yet. Call us and we'll bring you a bedpan."

  "Oh, God," Mari said.

  "It's not so bad. You'll have people waiting on you hand and foot."

  "I hurt all over."

  "I brought your pain medication."

  Cassie handed her a small paper cup and filled Mari's Styrofoam cup with water. After Mari swallowed the pills, Cassie made notes in the computer.

  "That other nurse didn't use the computer," Mari said.

  Cassie didn't look up as she typed. When she'd finished her entries, she came over and put her hand on Mari's forehead.

  "Didn't you take my temperature?"

  "Yes, but I'm double checking."

  "Why?"

  Cassie looked at her and brushed Mari's hair away from her eyes.

  "Because I'm your nurse for the day. I'm the only one who's been in here this morning."

  Mari

  Day 7

  Mari felt someone standing near her and opened her eyes. It was Nurse Cabot, and she was staring at Mari.

  "She didn't mean to hurt you," she said.

  "What?" Mari asked.

  Nurse Cabot faded away as Cassie walked into the room.

  "You're awake," Cassie said.

  "I just woke up."

  "How are you feeling?"

  "A little better."

  "Tell her to move you." Mari looked toward the window and saw a man in a nightshirt standing at the end of her bed. "You are in my bed, young woman, and I won't stand for it."

  Cassie was holding Mari's wrist and felt her pulse jump. She looked at her patient, and then followed Mari's gaze to the window.

  "What was that?" Cassie asked.

  "What was what?"

  "Your pulse jumped."

  "That's weird."

  "Mmm huh."

  Cassie took her blood pressure and noticed it was higher than the day before. Patients with head injury often experienced anxiety, which sometimes caused them to feel overwhelmed. Mari was still wearing her "I can't walk alone" band, but that wouldn't keep her from getting out of bed to run from something she thought was happening.

  "How did you sleep last night?" Cassie asked.

  "I woke up a couple of times."

  "Could you go right back to sleep?"

  Mari shook her head. "My back hurts and this bed is hard."

  "I asked you to move her." It was the man by the window. He was looking at Cassie. "This is my bed."

  Mari glared at the old man, and Cassie looked at the window again. She went to the laptop and noted in the chart that Mari might need a psych evaluation.

  "The doctor wants you to sit in the recliner during the day, and the physical therapist is going to visit. They want you to be ready to go to rehab, and I'll bet you want to get out of this hospital, too."

  "Get her out now!"

  The man's hands were balled into fists and he
stomped his foot, causing Mari to giggle.

  "It's good to hear you laugh," Cassie said. "Something tickled you."

  "Oh, I was just thinking about how much my priorities have changed. Sitting in a recliner is actually considered progress."

  Cassie was pulling the sheet off Mari so she could help her out of bed, and Mari stuck her tongue out at the old man.

  "Ready?" Cassie asked.

  Mari's leg hurt when she moved it toward the edge of the bed, but she kept going. She was more comfortable in the recliner, but she still got dizzy when she stood, so she couldn't get into it alone. She still needed someone to walk with her to the bathroom, and when she was allowed to take a shower, she had to sit on a chair while she bathed.

  The stiffness in her joints was getting better, but her broken pelvis was taking its time, and the pain in her hip was still bad. She didn't feel so brittle anymore, just achy and tired.

  Her physical injuries had taken precedence over the memory problems she was having, though, and she asked Cassie when someone would come to help her with that.

  "You might not see anyone until we get you to rehab."

  "But I can't remember the accident."

  "You have to give it time, Marigold."

  "Mari. Please call me Mari."

  "You suffered a traumatic head injury. Your brain is bruised and it might take longer to heal than your arms and legs."

  "Will I remember it?"

  Cassie raised her eyebrows. "I'm not qualified to answer that, but if you want, I can put in a request for the psychiatrist to see you now, before you go to rehab."

  "Please do that."

  Cassie changed her note from "might need" to "does need" a visit from the psychiatrist. She finished her notes and smiled at Mari.

  "I think breakfast is coming."

  She pushed Mari's tray to the recliner and lowered it for her.

  "I wrote on your file that you want to see a psychiatrist. Do you have to go before I leave?"

  Mari shook her head. "Not yet."

  "Okay, then I'll see you later."

  The man got into Mari's bed and pulled imaginary covers over himself.

  "Who are you?" she asked.

  "That's none of your business."

  She watched him fade away and felt a shiver go up her spine. Why was she seeing these apparitions? What part of the brain allowed you to see ghosts? Would this happen forever, or just until her brain healed?

  Mari turned on the TV and watched a local station out of Oceanville, New Jersey.

  Why am I in Oceanville? she thought.

  She flipped through the channels until she found the news. She looked at the photo of a mangled car behind the newscaster.

  "There are still no charges in the death of hotelier Harry Miller. Mr. Miller was a passenger in a car driven by Marigold Burnside, a reporter for the TV show, Historic Homicides. Ms. Burnside was in Cape Alden to research the unsolved murder of Charlotte Johnson, who died in 1941. The driver of the other car, Philip Curry of Cape Alden, was thought to be driving under the influence, but tests have cleared him of any wrongdoing. Mr. Curry stated that he swerved to avoid a pedestrian, but so far, the police have been unable to confirm this. Mr. Miller's death is blamed in part on the failure of the airbags to deploy. This particular brand of airbags was part of a massive recall issued several months ago."

  Marigold Burnside. She was Marigold Burnside. She had been driving the car and a man was killed.

  "I don't want anything to happen to you."

  Flashes of flames in a fireplace, the taste of red wine, and Christmas lights blinking raced through her mind.

  Mari remembered checking into the B&B. She remembered the man behind the desk as she filled out the paperwork. He was nice, and his smile was sweet. She had liked him the moment she saw him. It wasn't like her to fall for someone so fast, but he was different. She trusted him.

  Harry Miller. That was his name. He owned the B&B. They'd hit it off right away. He had green eyes...

  "...the death of hotelier Harry Miller."

  He was kind. He liked cooking for her, and touching her cheek. It had been a long time since she'd met a man who got her, who liked her snarky sense of humor, and made her feel special.

  "...the death of hotelier Harry Miller."

  "Oh, my God! I killed him."

  Nurse Cabot appeared. She held a chart and the pen was poised to take notes.

  "What do you want?" Mari cried.

  "Have you moved your bowels today?"

  "Are you kidding? No, I haven't shit yet, okay?"

  "No need for profanity, dear."

  She jotted something on the chart and faded away when Mari's breakfast arrived. The young woman put the tray on the cart and took the menu for the next day. Mari couldn't remember filling it out. Her short term memory loss was acute and she worried about doing something awful and forgetting what she'd done. The only thing she did remember was the ghosts that kept appearing out of nowhere.

  She felt the tears in her eyes and wondered why she had been crying.

  "Damn it."

  The news was on. The news. Something on the news had upset her. She wiped the tears away and ate her breakfast. When she was done, emotions rose in her and she began to cry again, sobbing so hard her tears dampened the front of her gown.

  An hour later, Cassie came in to take her vitals, and she saw Mari's eyes.

  "You okay?" she asked. "You look like you've been crying."

  "I have been. I just don't know why." Mari looked at the TV. "Maybe it was something on the TV."

  "I should have unplugged that thing." Cassie pushed the button on the remote to turn off the TV.

  "Why can't I watch TV?"

  Cassie turned the TV back on.

  "Did I have a purse or bag?"

  "It's in the drawer next to you."

  Mari opened the drawer of the small end table next to her bed. She took the bag out and found her wallet. She looked at her driver's license, but she couldn't focus her eyes to read it.

  "Please read it for me."

  Cassie took the wallet from Mari. "It says you were born on July 16, 1982."

  "How old does that make me?"

  Cassie did the math in her head. "35. It says you are an organ donor, and you have a New York address."

  "What else does it say?"

  "Nothing else." Cassie looked at her.

  "I have a job. Is my phone in here?"

  Mari put her hand in her bag and found her phone.

  "Be careful about talking to people," Cassie said. "Sometimes you say some strange things after you hit your head."

  Mari held the phone. Pain at the front of her head made her close her eyes. She'd been given Oxycodone, but after seven days, they stopped and gave her Ibuprofen. It worked, but not as well. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.

  "My head hurts."

  "It's almost time for your meds."

  Cassie helped her to the bathroom. Mari looked at her face in the mirror and sighed.

  "I look like death warmed over," she said.

  "You look better than you did last week," Cassie said. "Do you want to take a shower?"

  "Maybe later. I'm so tired."

  Cassie got her back into the recliner and left her with the promise of a shower later that afternoon. The drone of the TV voices made her drowsy.

  "Mari."

  It was her mother's voice.

  "Mom."

  "Hi, Honey. It's time to get up. You can't miss the bus today."

  Mari opened her eyes. Cassie was standing in front of her with a small cup in her hand.

  "It's time for your meds."

  Mari blinked a few times, looked out the window, and then at Cassie.

  "Was I asleep?"

  "Sure looked that way."

  Mari took the cup with her meds from Cassie, who then handed her a cup of water.

  "I saw my mom," Mari said.

  "Oh?"

  "She was telling me I couldn
't miss the bus."

  "I do that with my son all the time."

  "My mom died last year." Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. "She had cancer."

  Mari wiped the tears away.

  "So you've had a really bad year," Cassie said.

  Cassie held Mari's hand while her patient sobbed. She'd been trying to find someone from Mari's family to come and see her, but when Cassie talked to Mari's roommate in New York City, he'd told her that Mari didn't have any family. She was all alone in the world.

  Cassie tried to maintain a professional distance from her patients because at the end of the day, you had to go home, and the pain of seeing someone you truly cared about suffering would break your heart, but this patient was getting to her. She liked Mari, and wanted to take her pain away. Cassie had thought about being reassigned because her judgment could be affected by her feelings, but losing someone she'd grown used to might make Mari more anxious, so she stayed.

  Cassie owned a home in Cape Alden she shared with her six-year-old son, Joey. The garage in the back of the house had an apartment that Cassie had fixed up to rent. As she held Mari's hand, she thought about that apartment. Mari had suffered a severe head trauma. The doctors in the ER thought she would die, but she was a fighter. She'd survived and they were all thrilled when she woke up, but Cassie knew it would take a long time for her to recover. Even then, she might never be the same person again. What would she do if she couldn't work?

  Mari had drifted off. She looked peaceful, so Cassie pulled her hand from Mari's and left the room. She had already decided that if Mari needed it, she could have the apartment over Cassie's garage.

  Cassie Torrance

  Day 8

  Cassie looked at the order for transfer and read it again. Mari was going to the rehab in Oceanville for two weeks. Cassie hadn't talked to Mari about moving in yet. She thought she would have more time, but Mari was ready to go, and beds in the hospital were at a premium. She stood outside Mari's room while she read her chart and then went inside.

  "Hey," she said. Mari was half-awake and smiled. "I've got some news for you. They're moving you to the rehab in Oceanville."

  Cassie waited for Mari's reaction, but Mari remained quiet, even as Cassie took her vitals. She looked at Mari's face. There was a large, brown and yellow bruise above her eyes and several small cuts on her cheeks. She was pale and her red curls were a tangled mass. She looked like an unkempt Little Orphan Annie.