The Obituary
By Wesley L. Leigh

(continued)

The quaint sanctuary met sunrise at exactly 6:58 a.m. Late winter, the vestiges of the cold gloom were starting to disappear. Encompassed by dense ivy, Crescentview looked more like an academic layer of humanities than a nursing home. The usual cast of familiar characters-nurses and aides, managers and administrators, friends and family-shuttled through like clockwork. The mood during business hours was strictly formal-the very reason some, like Dr. McKinley and Nurse Voorhees, shunned days altogether. Ruth had no compunctions letting anyone know who so asked: she much preferred the quiet, predictable, "vampire hours" she had long grown accustomed to.

As beautiful as the weather had been during the day, a stroke of unpredictability beset the night. Blustery conditions and rain nearly prevented the dedicated night crew from making it in. It was one of the worst storms the Northwest had seen in over a decade. At a quarter to midnight, Nurse Hayworth had just prepared a fresh pot of coffee for the shift. She filled four cups to the brim and carried them on a tray to the rectangular table where the east wing nurses collected.

"Jeez…" Ms. Goldstein breathed, looking up toward the ceiling. "This keeps up I won't even be able to go out for a smoke later. I might have to go to plan B."

"Hey, no smoking on the other wing." Ruth pointed a stern finger in her direction before taking a sip of coffee. She feigned a half-serious expression. "I barely got us out of the first fire alarm scare. I don't think administration will go for the smoking patient routine again."

"What was that, about five years ago?" Nurse Hayworth chortled. "I still can't believe Bellingham Fire showed up. It took everything out of me just to keep a straight face that night."

"I remember," Ms. Myers chimed in, amused as well. "You almost squeezed the circulation out of my hand, and it's been virtually useless ever sense."

Distracted by laughter and the rumbling noise of the storm, no one heard Dr. McKinley's silent entry onto the east wing. Unperturbed by the weather, not even a storm could keep the good doctor away; his patients always came first. His only problem tonight was the piercing brightness of the east wing corridor. Unable to bear it, he quickly entered the first patient's room on the left, where all was dim and quiet.

"Looks like maintenance finally fixed the problem out there," Ruth declared, glancing over her shoulder to the well-lit corridor. "One of the patients' families must have complained."

"Either that or they got ears around, listening to everything we say at night," Ms. Hayworth grinned. "I hope that's not the case."

"Well, it's not like we're ever here alone," Ms. Myers said, lifting her eyes to the hallway.

"I'm sure stuff gets back to day shift."

Busy with his nightly rounds, Dr. McKinley remained indifferent to the paranoia he heard outside at the nurse's station. He was well accustomed to the east wing gossip and had learned to ignore it. His concern rested with the ailing Mr. Beasley who looked pale tonight. He had apparently stopped eating, his lucidness worse than ever. If he continued this way, death would be right around the corner, a sadconsequence of his condition. Stethoscope in hand, the doctor sat at the edge of the bed weighing his options.