Cabin Fever
Adrienne Needham stood in front of her full-length mirror, inspecting her reflection from the top of her freshly brushed short hair to the soles of her orthopedic shoes. Nothing was out of place. Her uniform was clean and pressed. There was not a spot of dirt or wrinkle to be seen. There was no reason for her to wear the outdated white dress. Most nurses these days wear medical scrubs. But Adrienne was an old-fashioned girl. She was not about to tend to her patients in a brightly colored cotton outfit that looked more like pajamas than a uniform. Frankly, there was no reason for her to wear any kind of uniform since she didn't work at a hospital or a doctor's office. She was a private nurse who took care of only one patient at a time.
Dahlia Belgrave, the eighty-seven-year-old widow of Chadwick Belgrave, the wealthy industrialist, was in the final stages of Alzheimer's Disease. Adrienne had been her caregiver for the past three years and would remain by her side until the end—which would not be too far in the future according to her doctor.
Once she was satisfied with her appearance, the thirty-four-year-old nurse left the spacious guestroom, which she had called home since taking the assignment, and went down to the kitchen. The cook had prepared a light breakfast for her.
"Thank you, Magda," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table rather than in the formal dining room.
In addition to the nurse and cook, the household staff included two maids, a butler, a gardener and a chauffeur. All of them knew their employment would end soon. Once Dahlia died, the estate would pass to her son, who had no desire to keep the old white elephant of a house.
"How much longer do you think she has?" the cook asked as Adrienne swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal.
"Judging from past experience, I'd say less than a month," the nurse replied honestly. "Have you given any thought to where you'll go when the end comes?"
"I'm sixty-eight years old. I'm going to retire and move down to Florida. Between Social Security and what I've saved up over the years, I'll have more than enough to get into one of those senior citizens communities. What about you?"
"Whenever I'm between assignments, I stay with my sister in Pennsylvania. I get to enjoy time with her and her family until my services are needed again."
"Do you always work with Dr. Halston?"
The mere mention of Adam Halston's name caused the butterflies in Andrienne's stomach to flap their wings. For the past year and a half, the nurse and the handsome doctor had been having a romantic relationship, despite his being a married man. Six months earlier, he promised her he would leave his wife, but he had yet to do so.
When he finally does leave her, we can get married and start a family. I won't need to work then. I can be a stay-at-home mom.
Holding on to that happy thought, the nurse left the kitchen and walked upstairs to the master suite where Dahlia was sleeping. The old woman, once well known for her beauty and sense of style, looked small and shriveled and swallowed up by the designer silk sheets and comforter on the immense bed.
Adrienne had just finished washing her patient and putting a clean nightgown on her when she heard footsteps walking down the hall.
"Good morning," Adam called as he entered the room.
"What are you doing here? I didn't expect you until next Friday."
After crossing the room, he kissed her on the cheek.
"I wanted to talk to you."
"You could have phoned me."
"Then I wouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face."
Those butterflies were at it again. Could he have made the trip from Manhattan out to Long Island to tell her he had finally left his wife?
"What is it you want to talk to me about?" she asked hopefully.
"My friend from Boston, Dr. Wilfred Stanbridge, has a terminally ill patient who needs round-the-clock care. I told him I knew just the girl for the job: you."
Those butterflies' wings promptly stopped beating.
"Boston?"
"He lives and works in Boston. His patient lives on a private island off the coast of Maine."
"Surely, they have competent nurses in New England who can care for his patient."
"Sweetheart, this is an opportunity that comes around once in a lifetime—if that. Wilfred's patient is one of the ten richest women in the world, and the salary being offered is in line with that. The old woman hasn't long to live. If you take this assignment, you'll no doubt be back here before the holidays."
"But Maine? That is so far away. We wouldn't be able to see each other."
Adam took her in his arms and kissed her.
"Darling," he explained, "I may be a somewhat wealthy man, but when I leave Dory, I'll have to forfeit half of everything I own, including the house. With the money you'll make on this assignment, we can buy our own home."
The butterflies became more active than ever. They were downright manic.
"When would the assignment start?"
"You'll have to fly to Maine tomorrow."
"But Mrs. Belgrave needs me here."
"I'll have another nurse watch over her."
"I've never abandoned a patient before," Adrienne declared sadly.
"I know, but she won't even notice you're gone."
* * *
Although Adrienne thought the Belgrave mansion in the Hamptons was large, it was dwarfed by Abigail Winstanley's home off the coast of Maine.
"My God!" she exclaimed when the small plane landed on the island's private airfield. "The house looks like a resort hotel! How many people live there?"
"Just Abigail and her staff," Dr. Stanbridge replied. "And now you."
"But I don't plan on being here that long."
"I don't know what Adam told you, but the patient is about to undergo experimental treatment. I'm hoping even if it doesn't cure her completely, it will at least improve her quality of life and possibly extend it a few months or even years."
"Dr. Halston was under the impression that your patient didn't have long to live and that I would be back in New York by the holidays."
"That's quite possible," the Boston physician admitted. "We'll have to wait and see how these treatments work."
The inside of the island home was every bit as grand as the outside. Adrienne could not understand why someone would build what was essentially a palace in such a remote area.
"Your patient obviously likes her privacy," the nurse observed.
"Yes, she does."
"That must be why I've never heard of her despite her being one of the ten richest women in the world. Usually, wealthy socialites get their names in the paper."
"Not Abigail. She comes from old money. She's not one of the flashy jet-setters you read about in the gossip columns and tabloids."
"And exactly what does she suffer from? Dr. Halston wasn't too specific about her illness."
"I'm not surprised. It's an extremely rare blood disorder. Few doctors have ever heard of it. Ah! Here's Mrs. Musgrove, the housekeeper. She'll show you to your room."
"First, I've prepared a light lunch. Come with me to the dining room. Theo will take your bags upstairs."
Dr. Stanbridge, having turned the nurse over to the housekeeper, went to visit his patient before returning to the mainland.
Expecting a guest room similar to the one she used in Mrs. Belgrave's home, Adrienne was amazed when the housekeeper showed her a suite with its own bathroom, dressing room and sitting room.
"All this is for me?" she exclaimed.
"Yes. Miss Winstanley's rooms are just at the end of the hall, so you won't have far to walk to check on her. You can have your meals brought up to you or come down to the dining room to eat, whichever you prefer. There's a library on the first floor; feel free to use it. And, of course, you're welcome to use the pool whenever you want to. If you didn't bring a bathing suit with you, don't worry. We have a selection here in all styles and sizes."
"I don't plan on doing much swimming this time of year, especially here in Maine."
"It's an indoor pool, miss. It can be used year-round. There's also an exercise room and a tennis court, but that is outside."
"I think I may need a map to find my way around."
"You'll get used to it," Bea assured her. "Now, I'll let you get settled in. I'm sure you're tired after your trip from New York."
After unpacking her bags, Adrienne walked down the hall and gently knocked on her employer's door. Not getting a response, she tiptoed into the room. Abigail was sound asleep on the massive bed. The old woman's hair was snowy white, and her skin pale and wrinkled. The hand that lay on the pillow was gnarled and claw-like. As was often the case with private nurses, she would be called upon to give palliative care. "Just make them comfortable" was usually the order of the day.
As she scanned the list of the patient's medications, she wondered what Dr. Stanbridge's experimental treatments entailed.
Hearing a murmur from the bed, the nurse looked down and saw that Abigail's eyes were open.
"Hello, Mrs. Winstanley. I'm Adrienne Needham. Dr. Stanbridge engaged me to be your caregiver."
"He chose well," the old woman said in a faint, reedy voice.
It was an odd thing to say since there was no way the patient could assess her qualifications or nursing skills.
"Can I get you anything or do something for you?" she asked.
"No. I just want to rest now."
"There's a bell here on your night table. If you need me, just ring it. I'll be back later to check on you."
* * *
Adrienne soon established a routine that benefited both her patient and herself. Allowing eight hours for sleep and four hours for meals and ablution, left twelve hours that she divided equally between patient care and recreation. In addition to helping the old woman bathe, dress and eat, she would sit by her bedside and read to her. During her free time, the nurse swam in the pool, read one of the many books in the library or played cards or Scrabble with Bea Musgrove and other members of the staff.
On warm, clear days, she walked along the beach. That was the time, with the seagulls circling above her and the waves crashing on the shore, when her thoughts went to Adam. She had not heard from him since she left New York; not a phone call or even a letter.
I wonder if he misses me, she mused.
She missed him. There was not a waking hour when his handsome face didn't intrude on her mind.
Someday I'll no doubt look back on this separation and realize it was all worth it, but until then, I'll just have to keep the end goal in mind.
Meanwhile, Adrienne had a job to do. Thankfully, she was a conscientious worker who gave every assignment her all.
One blustery October afternoon, she was sitting beside Abigail's bed, reading from Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, when she heard an airplane fly overhead.
"That must be Dr. Stanbridge," she announced, closing the novel and placing it on the patient's night table.
Ten minutes later, the physician entered the room.
"It's cold out there, isn't it?" the nurse asked when she saw the doctor briskly rubbing his hands together to warm them.
"If you think it's cold now," he laughed, "wait until January and February."
It did not matter to Adrienne if the winter weather in Maine was bad; by then, she would be back in New York. The thought of seeing Adam again brought a blush to her cheek and a hint of a smile to her lips.
"Of course, I'm used to those frigid temperatures. I grew up in Maine. But how are you bearing up on these chilly days, Nurse Needham?"
"I'm doing just fine. Thank you, Doctor."
"Keeping busy, I hope. I'm always concerned about the mental well-being of those who aren't accustomed to living in such isolated locales. People laugh about so-called 'cabin fever,' but it's no joke."
"I keep myself busy. There's a lifetime worth of reading material in the library. And although I haven't gone for as many walks as I'd like, I get plenty of exercise swimming in the pool."
"Good. And now, why don't you take a break while I examine my patient?"
The doctor's suggestion took her by surprise since it was customary for a nurse to remain in the room during examinations. This was the first time in her twelve-year-long career that her presence was not required.
"I'll go down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee," she declared.
"Wait a second," Dr. Stanbridge said, taking a bottle of tablets out of his medical bag and handing it to her. "I want you to start taking these with your meals. Since it's only ten in the morning, you can take one now with your coffee. Then take them again at lunch and dinner."
"But I don't need any medication. I'm not sick."
"It's a vitamin compound. Since you're inside most of the time, you need a good source of Vitamin D. These pills also include Vitamins B and C and Omega 3."
"But I already take a multiple vitamin every day."
Like many doctors, Wilfred did not like anyone to question his medical advice, least of all, a nurse.
"Do as I say," he firmly instructed. "I don't want you coming down with the flu or even the common cold. Abigail might catch it, and I can't risk her getting sick."
"Of course, Doctor," Adrienne said sheepishly, taking the pill bottle from his hand.
* * *
Although Doctor Stanbridge remained on the island overnight, he did not have dinner with Andrienne. She ate in the kitchen with Bea and the other servants while he had a tray brought to his room. He did, however, send written instructions to the nurse. She was not to disturb the patient. The experimental treatments had begun, and he wanted her to have complete bed rest.
I'll keep an eye on her tonight, his note had said. You can check on her in the morning.
Having been given the night off, Adrienne made the most of it. After a rigorous swim in the pool, she took a hot, relaxing bath. Then she poured herself a glass of wine and sat in front of the fireplace with an Agatha Christie mystery. A storm had come up the coast, and the sound of rain pelting the windows and strong winds whistling through the trees added to the cozy feeling of being safe inside the house.
She had just finished the third chapter in her book and read the first two paragraphs of the fourth when she closed her eyes. She did not open them again until the following morning.
"I must have been exhausted last night," Adrienne told Bea after hurrying down to breakfast forty minutes later than normal. "I fell asleep on the sofa by the fireplace."
"I've done that myself many a time," the housekeeper said, pouring the nurse a cup of strong coffee.
"Is Dr. Stanbridge awake yet?"
"He was up two hours ago. I sent him up a tray, and after checking on Miss Winstanley, he flew back to Boston."
"He's gone already? That's odd! I thought he would want to discuss the patient's new treatments with me."
"Perhaps he left you written instructions in her room. Anyway, he'll be back at the end of the week."
This was another surprise to the nurse who was peeved that the doctor seemed to have better communication with the housekeeper than with her. She could not help wondering if he was displeased with her for some reason. Was he unhappy with her job performance? Had she inadvertently done or said something that might have offended him? She had always enjoyed a good rapport with the doctors with whom she worked, but Wilfred Stanbridge was different.
It's not like working with Adam, she thought, the blush and smile returning as an image of his dazzling smile and magnetic blue eyes came to mind.
As she headed upstairs to Miss Winstanley's suite, she put Dr. Stanbridge out of her mind. She had a job to do, a patient to look after and a personal life she wanted to return to. She was determined not to let an odd duck like Wilfred Stanbridge bother her.
At the top of the staircase, she turned left and walked down the hall past her own suite of rooms. She was surprised to see the patient's door was ajar. She knocked softly to announce her presence.
"Come in."
"How are you feeling?" Adrienne asked as she approached the patient's bed.
"Not too bad."
"You look good."
This was no empty compliment. The patient did look better. Her previous paleness had been replaced with a rosy glow. Was this the result of Dr. Stanbridge's new treatment?
"Wilfred left that note for you," the old woman said, calling her doctor by his first name.
"He's made changes in your medication," the nurse announced after reading it.
The written message also reminded her to take the vitamins he had prescribed. He warned that it was crucial for her to remain both physically and mentally healthy during the next few weeks.
"Did you take your vitamin this morning?" Abigail asked as Adrienne folded the note and put it in her pocket.
"I'll take one at lunch."
"I assume that means you didn't. Go and take it now."
"I'm the one who is supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around," the nurse laughed and picked up the volume of Dorian Gray from the bedside table.
"Never mind Oscar Wilde. Do as I say."
For a frail old woman who had only a few months to live, she was suddenly quite intimidating.
She must have been a force to be reckoned with when she was in her prime, Adrienne thought as she headed back to her room to take the vitamins.
* * *
A week into the month of November, Bea began making plans for the Thanksgiving meal. She made a long list of items she would need from the grocers and gave it to the captain of the vessel that routinely delivered the mail and supplies to the island.
"That's an awful lot of food for so few people," Adrienne observed as she looked at the handwritten menu. "Or are you expecting guests?"
"No. Just us. But one of the best parts of Thanksgiving dinner is the leftovers."
"I'm surprised Miss Winstanley doesn't employ a full-time cook. The last person I worked for did."
"I can handle both the housework and the cooking. This place may be huge, but it doesn't require much maintenance. Every six weeks or so, a group of women come over from the mainland and clean the place from top to bottom. As for the cooking, it's more of a hobby than a job for me."
"Well, if there's anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask. I may not know my way around a kitchen like you do, but I can peel potatoes, chop onions, slice carrots and whip cream as well as the next person."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Since arriving on the island, the nurse developed a friendship with the housekeeper. More than twenty years her senior, Bea Musgrove was somewhat of a mother figure to the nurse. The Monday before Thanksgiving, as Adrienne peeled apples and the housekeeper made pie crust, she shared her cherished future plans with the older woman.
"Next year, I hope to be spending Thanksgiving with Adam Halston."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"Kind of. He's a doctor I've worked with several times in the past. We're in love with each other and hope to marry soon."
"You're not wearing an engagement ring," Bea pointed out.
"No, not yet. He ... I ...."
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"He's married," Adrienne blurted out. "You're the first person I've ever confided in."
"Rest assured. Your secret is safe with me."
Once the apples were peeled, cored and sliced, the housekeeper added the sugar and spices.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" the nurse offered.
"Not right now."
"I'll go check on Miss Winstanley then. She ought to be done napping."
An odd sensation came over Adrienne as she put her foot on the first step of the grand staircase: a faintness similar to vertigo. Her left hand went to her forehead while her right hand grabbed onto the railing to keep from falling. The feeling soon passed, however, it returned several times during the day.
"I hope I'm not coming down with something," she told herself. "I suppose I ought to mention it to Dr. Stanbridge when he arrives on Wednesday."
* * *
"Nothing to be concerned about," Dr. Stanbridge announced after a brief examination. "You seem to be in perfect health."
"But the dizzy spells ...."
"A mild case of anemia. Here, take these," the doctor said, removing a pill bottle from his bag.
"What are they?" Adrienne asked.
"Iron pills. I want you to take them in addition to the vitamins I prescribed for you."
Since experiencing the dizziness on Monday, other symptoms appeared: fatigue, weakness, shortness of breath and an occasional dull headache. While these were indicative of anemia, she was not sure the doctor's diagnosis was correct.
How can he determine I'm anemic without a blood test? she wondered.
As though he had read her mind, Dr. Stanbridge produced a hypodermic needle.
"Let me just draw some blood and confirm it."
"Here? Now?"
"Yes. I've got everything I need to do a blood test right here on the island."
Of course, he does. Miss Winstanley is suffering from a rare blood disease. He would need a lab of some sort on the premises.
"All done," he said and placed a Band-Aid on the injection site. "Since I'll be staying the night ...."
"You are?" Adrienne asked with surprise, not realizing she had cut him off mid-sentence.
"Yes. I've been invited for the holiday meal. As I was saying, since I'll be here, you can have the day off. Why don't you go to your room and get some rest?"
She was about to object, but then the dull ache in her head suddenly became a throbbing migraine.
"You're the doctor," she said, managing a weak smile.
"And don't forget your vitamins."
After washing down a vitamin, an iron pill and two aspirin with a glass of tepid tap water, Adrienne removed her uniform, crawled beneath the blanks and fell asleep.
* * *
Thanksgiving in Maine was different from the ones Adrienne was used to in New York.
"Ever since I was a little girl, I watched the Macy's parade. This is the first year I've missed it," she said as she helped Bea set the table for the big meal of the day.
Since there was no television reception on the remote island, she could not even see televised coverage.
"I'm afraid the best we can do is watch Miracle on 34th Street on the VCR this evening," the housekeeper suggested.
"The original 1947 version, I hope."
"Of course! No one plays Kris Kringle like Edmund Gwenn."
After carving the turkey, Bea rang a bell to announce dinner. The servants were the first to arrive and hungrily eyed the repast the housekeeper had prepared.
"What's keeping Dr. Stanbridge?" Theo, the handyman, asked.
"I'm here," Wilfred called from the second-floor hallway. "And I've got a surprise for everyone."
All eyes went to the staircase, and a collective gasp of surprise echoed in the dining room when the celebrants noticed Miss Winstanley by the doctor's side. Both of them were dressed in formal attire.
"Doesn't the mistress look wonderful!" Theo exclaimed.
"I didn't know she could get out of bed," Adrienne mumbled.
"Those treatments seem to be working," the housekeeper surmised.
The nurse knew she ought to be glad, but secretly she did not welcome the news. Unless the patient took a turn for the worse, the assignment might drag on for several more months.
"Happy Thanksgiving, everyone," Abigail said before taking her seat at the head of the table.
The holiday greeting was echoed along the length of the table, and soon the dishes were passed from person to person. Adrienne, whose appetite faded when she noted her patient's incredible progress, took only a slice of turkey, a spoonful of cranberry sauce and a small helping of candied yams.
"Is that all you're eating, Nurse Needham?" Dr. Stanbridge asked from across the dining room table.
"I'm not very hungry."
"You need to keep up your strength. Here, have some mashed potatoes. Mrs. Musgrove, put some peas and creamed onions on her plate."
Adrienne's objections were ignored as both the doctor and the housekeeper piled on the food.
"I can't eat all this!" the nurse argued.
"Nonsense!"
At the sound of Abigail's imperious voice, all conversation at the table abruptly creased.
"Your body is a machine," the old woman declared. "And as such, it must receive adequate fuel if it is to function properly."
"Yes, Miss Winstanley," the nurse said, cowed by her patient.
She obediently picked up her fork and knife and cut into her slice of turkey. But as she brought the meat to her mouth, it appeared as though her hand had become translucent.
* * *
December brought with it several major snowstorms—major for New York, that is, but not for Maine.
"I hope the weather doesn't prevent Dr. Stanbridge from coming," Adrienne said as she watched the snow pile up on the front lawn.
"It might. But Miss Winstanley is doing so well right now, I don't imagine his being late by a day or two will set her back."
It was not the patient's health the nurse was worried about but her own. Since Thanksgiving, she had been experiencing bizarre hallucinations. She frequently saw parts of her body evaporate. These illusions were accompanied by numbness in the hands and feet.
"Can I be getting what Miss Winstanley has?" she asked the doctor, still not fully understanding the patient's mysterious disease.
"No. What the patient has is not contagious," Dr. Stanbridge assured her. "As for the numbness in your hands and feet, it's just the cold weather. It always affects the extremities first."
"But cold temperatures wouldn't cause me to see things that aren't there," she argued. "Would they?"
"If it will set your mind at ease, I'll draw some more blood from you. But, in my professional opinion, you've got a simple case of cabin fever. I warned you about that back in October."
"I know you're one of the top doctors in the country, but ...."
"Do you doubt my diagnosis? Don't you think I've come across cases like yours before? A working girl from the city, one who no doubt had an active social life, comes to an island in the middle of nowhere, cut off from the hustle and bustle of New York. The drastic change in lifestyle affects the mind."
"Maybe you ought to replace me," Adrienne said, hoping he would agree. "There are other nurses ...."
"That's out of the question!" he thundered. "I won't put my patient's progress in jeopardy by replacing her nurse at this stage of her treatments."
"But other than giving her medication twice a day, I contribute nothing to her care."
"Simply by being here, you're doing more for her than you know. End of discussion."
The doctor then withdrew a substantial amount of blood from Adrienne's arm and dismissed her.
No wonder I'm anemic, she thought as she headed to the library for another book. The way he keeps taking it from me, I'm lucky to have any blood left at all.
* * *
It was the week before Christmas, and Adrienne was overcome with homesickness. She missed going to the tree lighting ceremony in Rockefeller Center, attending the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall, seeing the decorated store windows along 5th Avenue and shopping at the various Christmas Markets that popped up during the holiday season. Most of all, she missed Adam Halston.
All this time he hasn't called or written to me. All the letters I sent him have gone unanswered.
New Year's Eve was also going to be a big disappointment. She had imagined watching the ball drop in Times Square with him, but she would still be imprisoned in the ice palace in the North Atlantic.
"Who am I going to kiss at midnight? Theo, the handyman?" she grumbled. "Why should I even bother staying up? I might as well have a few glasses of champagne and go to bed early."
But New Year's Eve was still two weeks away. She had to get through Christmas first.
When she went down to breakfast, she saw Bea sitting at the kitchen table writing another menu.
"I thought you had Christmas dinner planned already," the nurse said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
"I do. Now I need to decide what to cook for New Year's Day. On New Year's Eve, we always have a buffet. Salads, seafood, cold cuts and a selection of hors d'ouevres and sweets. But I do a sit-down dinner on the first of the year. Since we had turkey for Thanksgiving, and I'm planning on beef and ham for Christmas, I think I'll make duck. That's a good way to start off a new year."
Bea put her pen down, stood up and went to the stove.
"What do you want for breakfast today? Pancakes? French Toast?"
"I'm not hungry. I'll just have coffee."
"Dr. Stanbridge gave me strict instructions to see that you eat regular meals."
"What the good doctor doesn't know won't hurt him."
Bea looked aghast.
"I do as I am told," she declared defensively. "And you should, too."
"All right. How about a dish of oatmeal and some whole wheat toast?"
"I'll put raisins and bananas in that oatmeal."
"Fine. And I'll get myself a glass of orange juice."
Once she was properly fortified, the nurse went upstairs to check on her patient. The improvement in her condition over the past three weeks was amazing, bordering on miraculous.
"If you keep this up, you won't need a nurse," Adrienne said as she fluffed the patient's pillow.
"Are you eager to get back to New York?"
"Yes."
"I'm not surprised. It takes a certain kind of person to live out in the middle of nowhere," the old woman laughed.
"I guess I'm not one of those people."
"I suppose not. Would you be a dear and help me to the chair by the window. I'm getting tired of staying in bed all day."
Although Dr. Stanbridge left no instructions regarding the patient's mobility, Adrienne saw no harm in complying with the request.
"That's better!" Abigail said once she was seated in the wing chair. "And hand me that book, too."
"Don't you want me to read it to you?"
"I can read it myself. There's nothing wrong with my eyesight. Why don't you go for a swim? I don't think you're getting enough exercise."
"I'm fine, really."
"Don't argue with me. I'm going to sit in this chair and read my book. I don't need you hovering nearby like a mother hen. I'll ring for you when I want to return to bed."
Before leaving the master bedroom, Adrienne got a good look at her patient. It appeared as though she were at least twenty years younger.
Although Adrienne shivered from the cold when she changed out of her uniform and into a swimsuit, the water in the heated pool warmed her. She swam the length of the pool several times before getting out and toweling off. When she went into the changing room, she took the bathing cap off her head and reached for a hairbrush. Moments later, her screams drowned out the hum of the pool filter.
She stared at the mirror in the changing room but could not see a reflection!
* * *
"She's been like that since Monday," Bea told the doctor when he returned to the kitchen after examining the nurse. "She went down to the pool, and after her swim, she began screaming her head off. I finally managed to calm her down and had Theo carry her up to her bed. I managed to get her to take her vitamins and iron pills, but she hasn't eaten any food."
"You've done good, Mrs. Musgrove," the doctor said with appreciation. "I'll take care of everything from here on in. I'm sure you have plenty to do to prepare for the holidays."
Although Bea assumed the nurse was oblivious to her surroundings, Adrienne was aware of everything that went on around her. She was simply unable to respond in any way. Unable to open her eyes, she drifted in and out of sleep all afternoon. That evening, she heard two people enter her room. Moments later, she felt Dr. Stanbridge insert an IV tube in her arm after taking yet another vial of her blood.
"She's such a pretty young thing," Abigail said in a clear, strong voice that held no hint of illness or age. "You're absolutely certain no one is going to miss her?"
"I'm positive. She has a sister in Pennsylvania, but I doubt she'll question the story we tell her."
"And that doctor fellow? What about him? Are you sure he's not going to change his mind?"
"Adam Halston? Trust me, Abigail. He's glad to be rid of her. He's tired of coming up with excuses as to why he can't leave his wife. In fact, I ran into him in November. He's already seeing an x-ray technician from Mt. Sinai Hospital."
No! Why are they saying such terrible lies? Adrienne's mind screamed. Adam loves me.
"Don't worry. Everything will go just as we planned," Wilfred assured his patient. "It always does. I'll draw the last of her blood on December 31. On January 1, your youth will be completely restored."
"I can't wait," the eight-hundred-year-old patient said.
"Me either," the equally aged physician agreed. "Mrs. Musgrove is planning on serving duck for the renewal day celebration."
Knowing that she suffered from neither anemia nor cabin fever brought a small amount of vindication to Adrienne. However, realizing that the entire household had been party to the plan to murder her in order to prolong their own lives with her blood destroyed her will to live. With every milliliter of blood that was drained from her body, her flesh disintegrated. When the last of it was removed shortly before midnight on December 31, Adrienne Needham would vanish, leaving no corpse behind as evidence that a crime had been committed.
Salem loves to go to Maine and visit his favorite author, Stephen King. (But don't believe him when he says he was the inspiration for Cat's Eye.)
