Chapter 16
697 Words
“One of our patients passed away suddenly,” Esmerelda said on the phone a week later. “Her family"s begun an investigation.”
“A what?” Sara asked. Sadly, people relegated to hospices were expected to die. A hospice was last resort for the incurable.
“They believe she could have lasted a lot longer.”
“That"s ludicrous.”
“They"re investigating why she died.” Esmerelda"s frustrated sigh came through the phone. “We don"t just kill people off because they"re terminal.”
Sara couldn"t allow herself to become involved. She could help Esmerelda another way. “Let me keep the pups overnight,” she said.
“Could you really do that?” Esmerelda never asked for favors, but she knew an opportunity when it was offered. “Tomorrow"s Easter. When you bring the dogs back, plan to have dinner with me.”
Driving to Esmerelda"s, the spring sunlight dazzled. The pear trees were in blossom and honeybees buzzed. Sara lowered the window. She had not paid much attention to flora and fauna when she was younger, except when the pear trees were in bloom.
Pears, especially Bartlett, was a huge part of the crop market of the Delta. Bartlett trees would keep producing each year until after they were one hundred years old. If too many pears began to grow each season, some would be removed to allow the rest to fully mature. From the look of the flower-laden branches, the thinning phase promised to be a busy one. The fragrance emitted by those delicate white flowers blanketing the orchards completely merged with the air. It brought back memories of long past spring times when she always felt renewed. She kept the window down and sniffed the air again and again as she drove. This was one pleasurable memory she would enjoy forever. She began to feel like she was finally home again and the river didn"t seem as threatening.
As she maneuvered along the levee, viewing the expanse of crop fields and orchards, houses loomed intermittently on the horizon, then surged past. Each had its chance to make a statement as to its grandeur or neglect before the blankets of green fields blended together again toward the horizon.
At River Hospice, she backed in toward Esmerelda"s garage in order to load the dog carriers. Tripp was out washing his old pickup truck.
“Washes it even if it doesn"t need it,” Esmerelda said. “Keeps it tuned too. Runs errands for me all over the Delta.”
Sara always kept her back seats folded down in anticipation of hauling some new piece of furniture or other large items. As they loaded the SUV, Tripp scurried over to lend a hand.
“Hello there, perty Miss Sara.”
He had some nerve. Sara pinched her lips together. His interest made her gag. She turned to face him. “Tripp, my name is Sara. You don"t need to tack anything else onto it.”
“Oh!” he said as if he thought her too uppity. He gave her a look that sliced through her, and then turned and headed back to his truck.
During the few minutes she and Esmerelda finished preparing the dogs for the ride, Tripp glanced over several times. He shrugged as he swiped soapsuds over the hood and talked to himself and waggled his head from side to side.
“Don"t be too hard on him,” Esmerelda said. “When a patient dies, it sets everyone on edge.”
“Surely you get attached to these old folks. I imagine some are here a long time.”
Esmerelda shrugged. “Guess it"s a fact of life around here. This is a place to bring the old and terminal.” She stared at the ground and then shook her head. “Bless Fredrik. He was with her all night, till she expired around four this morning.”
Sara couldn"t help asking. “Doesn"t seeing so much death affect him?”
“Probably. He"s awfully dedicated, but he can get nasty if he gets moody. Not sure how he comes to terms with the loss of life.”
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