Chapter Twenty-Six
“Thank you for coming, Hannah,” Barbara said, reaching out for Hannah’s hand once Moishe was settled comfortably on her bed. “You don’t know how much this means to me.” She turned to Jenny. “You can leave now, Jenny. You must be tired. Delores said you worked two shifts today.”
“I can stay if you need me,” Jenny offered.
“No, but thank you,” Hannah said. “You should go home and sleep in your own bed. I’ll stay here with Barbara and Moishe.”
“A moment, Hannah?” Jenny asked, gesturing toward the hallway outside Barbara’s door.
“I’ll be right back, Barbara,” Hannah said, getting up from the chair to follow Jenny out.
“That’s all right. I’ve got my nice big Moishe to protect me.” Barbara stroked Moishe’s fur and he purred. “Take your time, Hannah. I’ll be fine with Moishe here.”
Jenny led Hannah a few steps down the hallway before she spoke. “It’s amazing how calm she is now,” Jenny said in a hushed voice. “We were all terribly worried about her. Doc Knight took her blood pressure and it was through the roof. Then, the moment we told her that you were on your way with Moishe, she calmed right down. I took her vitals right before you came and everything was perfectly normal.”
“Has she mentioned her brother or the white monster again?”
“No, and Doc Knight took her down to radiology when he got back here from dinner. The swelling’s almost gone. We’re all hoping that’s why she hasn’t mentioned her brother or the white monster again.”
“Me, too. Are there any instructions for me? Anything I should or shouldn’t do?”
“Nothing. A nurse will come in to check on her every hour or so. She’s off most of her pain meds and those are delivered by the IV drip anyway.”
“So nobody will be replacing any bags of medication or anything while I’m here?”
“Not until six in the morning. That’s when her day nurse comes on. Do you want me to leave instructions for her to wake you?”
“Yes. That’ll give me time to drive home, catch a quick shower, and go to work.”
“If you can sleep on that cot. It’s not the most comfortable bed in the world.”
“If I don’t, I’ll give Michelle my truck and sleep when I get home. I’ll be fine, Jenny. Don’t waste time worrying about me. I do have a question, though. What do I do if Barbara can’t sleep?”
“If you can’t sleep either, you can play the name game with her. She loves to play that.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a game Dr. Schmidt taught me. She’s testing it with patients who have brain injuries and also with Alzheimer’s patients. The object is to alleviate the anxiety of attempting to remember and simply have fun with silly rhymes and amusing mental pictures.”
“And this game is Dr. Love’s . . . uh . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and mentally kicked herself for using Dr. Schmidt’s radio name. It wasn’t public knowledge that Dr. Schmidt, head of the psychology department at the community college, was the voice behind the Dr. Love advice to the lovelorn show on KCOW radio.
“That’s all right, Hannah. I know she’s Dr. Love. She’s my college advisor and she told me.”
“That’s a relief! I knew I was going to slip up sometime, and I’m glad it happened with someone who already knew. What I meant to ask you was whether Dr. Schmidt’s name game is a kind of mnemonic device.”
“Yes. That’s exactly what it is. And it’s certainly worked well with Barbara. She remembers your name by rhyming it with your banana cookies. When I say, What is the Cookie Lady’s name? She pictures you with a plate of your banana cookies and says, Banana Hannah.”
“How about my mother? Does she remember that her name is Delores?”
“Yes, and we had a terrible time thinking of a rhyme or a mental picture for her. Barbara came up with it herself. She imagines your mother singing with a chorus and says Delores .”
Hannah laughed. “I’m willing to bet that Barbara’s never heard my mother sing! What does she do for her dad?”
“His name is Patrick, but that was a little too difficult. I found out from your mother that all his friends called him Paddy. Barbara takes that literally and imagines him eating a patty melt at the café. Patty sounds like Paddy and she remembers that his full name was Patrick. That seems to be her most difficult name. Sometimes she remembers it, but at other times she tells me she can’t remember her father’s name. There seems to be some sort of mental block. I haven’t figured out what it is yet.”
“Are there any other names I can ask?”
“Yes. Her mother’s name, the sheriff’s name, the detective’s name, and her dentist’s name.”
“She doesn’t call Norman my dentist any longer?”
Jenny shook her head. “She calls him Norman or Dr. Rhodes. She has an image for both names.”
“Hannah? Are you coming back?”
It was Barbara’s voice and Hannah realized she’d been gone long enough to make Barbara nervous. “I’d better go. I’ll let you know how everything goes if we play the name game.”
When Hannah walked into the room, Barbara’s face lit up in a huge smile. “You’re back!” she said. “I’m glad, Hannah. Moishe and I were getting worried.”
“You didn’t have to worry,” Hannah told her. “Jenny was just teaching me how to play the name game with you.”
“Can we play it now? I think Moishe is asleep. He’s snoring.”
Hannah listened for a moment and then she laughed. “He certainly is! He sounds like a buzz saw. Do you remember your dentist’s name?”
“I see him with an umbrella in a rainstorm! Storm! That’s it! Stormin’ Norman!”
“Very good!”
“I just learned that one today. Why did you want to talk about Norman?”
“Because he has a cat named Cuddles.”
“That’s a cute name. Does Moishe know Cuddles?”
“Moishe went to play with Cuddles while Norman and I went out to dinner with Doc Knight and my mother.”
“You mother is in a chorus. That means your mother is Delores!”
“That’s right. Norman and I left Moishe at his house with Cuddles. They played chase.”
“Moishe chases Cuddles? Or Cuddles chases Moishe?”
“Cuddles always initiates the chase, but it goes both ways. It’s a good thing Norman has a big house. They get a lot of exercise.”
“And that’s why Moishe is so tired.” Barbara reached out to stroke Moishe’s back as if in sympathy. “Cuddles is younger, isn’t she?”
“Yes, quite a bit younger.”
“It must be difficult to chase a younger female,” Barbara said, laughing a little. “Those are words to live by, Hannah . . . especially if you’re our mayor.”
Hannah laughed and so did Barbara, but Barbara sobered quickly. “Do you think Moishe will wake up if the monster comes?”
Hannah felt her heart sink down to her toes. It was obvious that Barbara still had one of her delusions. “I’m sure he’ll wake up,” she said.
“That’s a relief. I just know he’s coming tonight. There’s a moon. There’s always a moon when the monster comes. That’s how I know he’s white.” Barbara stopped speaking and frowned. “What is it called when you’re white but you shouldn’t be? Everyone else around you is colored. It’s . . . something to do with lack of pig . . . pig . . . pig-something.”
It took Hannah a moment, but then she caught on. “Pigment,” she said. “A person or an animal lacking pigmentation is called albino.”
“That’s it! Albino! My mother said they had an albino hired hand on the farm when she was growing up. He had to wear dark glasses all the time because he had trouble with his eyes. Thank you, Hannah. I’m not sure I would have remembered that word without you.”
“You’re welcome, Barbara. You mentioned your mother. What was your mother’s name?”
“There she is at the kitchen table, eating a big bowl of strawberries. Berries. Berry. My mother’s name was Terry. That’s short for Theresa. My mother’s name was Theresa.”
“Wonderful! How about your dad? What was his name?”
“There’s Dad at Hal and Rose’s Café, eating a patty melt. Paddy. That’s short for Patrick. My dad’s name is Patrick.”
“What was the former sheriff’s name?”
“He’s in his office watering a plant. It’s . . . Sheriff Grant!”
“Very good. Now, what was your father’s name?”
Barbara was silent for a long moment and then she shook her head. “I don’t like that one, Hannah. I don’t remember. I’m tired now and I think I want to go to sleep. Is that all right with you?”
“That’s fine with me, Barbara. I’m tired, too. I’ll sleep right here on the cot.”
“All right, Hannah. Sweet dreams.”
“And sweet dreams to you, Barbara.”
The cot was uncomfortable, but she was tired. Even though she tried to stay awake for a while, Hannah felt herself dozing off. She dreamed of a white monster and she felt her eyes fly open. And there it was! Right there on the wall! It was a shadow, a grotesque shadow that looked like a combination between a rat and a humpback seal. The monster was gliding along the floor.
She must be dreaming. She had to be dreaming. The shadow was at least four feet tall and the monster was as long as Barbara’s hospital bed. It was stealthy and silent as it traveled around the room, and Hannah didn’t seem capable of moving, or calling for help, or doing anything except stare at the monster.
And then there was a thud as something heavy hit the floor. And a screech, followed by a yowl that split the night air.
Moishe was a blur of movement as he hissed, and puffed up to twice his normal size, and confronted something on the floor at the foot of Barbara’s bed.
“Moishe!” Hannah sat bolt upright on the cot as something white, a creature much smaller than the menacing shadow, raced toward the window and leaped out through the screen.
Hannah moved faster than she’d ever moved before in her life, jumping off the cot to catch Moishe in mid-air as he was about to leap out of the window in hot pursuit.
“It was the monster!” Barbara exclaimed. “I told you there was a monster! Nobody believed me when I said it was real.”
“They’ll believe you now,” Hannah promised, shutting the window, but not before she saw the torn screen. Then she took Moishe back to Barbara’s bed and put him down so that Barbara could pet him.
“My big brave Moishe!” Barbara murmured, petting and soothing him. “What a wonderful brave kitty you are! You saved me, Moishe. I knew you would.” And then she turned to Hannah. “The monster was real, wasn’t it, Hannah?”
“Yes, it was,” Hannah answered, shivering slightly. Perhaps, in the daylight, she might not have been so startled, but the shadow had been truly frightening.
“What was it?” Barbara asked her. “Was it some kind of animal?”
“It was a weasel. Some people call them stoats. I saw a couple of them when I stayed overnight with my grandparents on the farm. The weasels used to try to get into my grandmother’s hen house to steal the eggs, but I’ve never seen any that large before. You were right, Barbara. It was an albino weasel.”
“I’ve never seen a weasel.” Barbara’s voice was shaking. “No wonder I didn’t know what it was! Will it come in here again?”
“Never,” Hannah promised her. “The window’s shut now so it can’t get in. Your screen was torn at the bottom and that’s how it got in. I’ll find Freddy in the morning and ask him to replace it for you.”