Free Maddy's Floor by Dale Mayer

long-term care aide stepped up to her bedside. "How are you feeling, my dear?" Bending over, she searched Sissy's gaze for a long moment as if trying to see who she really was. Satisfied, she pulled back with a decisive nod. "My goodness, Sissy, your color is so much better today. You're positively blushing. Is this a special day for you?"
     
    Sissy eyed her slyly. "Maybe. One never can tell. I'd like to have breakfast out of bed this morning."
     
    "Well, you certainly do look nice today. That's great that you are feeling well enough to get dressed. Shall we choose something special to wear? And how about your makeup, would you like some lipstick on today?" The aide bounced around the room, chattering happily and pulling out various pieces of clothing. "Let's try the pink sweater, and if you're feeling up to it, how about slacks?"
     
    Sissy gave a graceful nod in thanks. "Pants and a sweater sound lovely, and maybe the Summer Blush lipstick to match."
     
    Collecting the clothing, the aide walked over and laid everything on the bed. "Here we go."
     
    With a fat smile, Sissy said, "Thanks." It had been awhile since she'd been in such good spirits. There was nothing like getting out of bed first thing in the morning to make life brighter and the day more positive. She could get used to this.
     
    Of course, the buzz of excitement helped.
     
    A new bed on Dr. Maddy's floor had opened. A flurry of excitement drifted through Sissy's ward. She sniffed. Like any of the old biddies in her ward had a chance at that rare lottery. She watched and listened as they all dreamed about moving up to that floor. As if that would change their lives. They weren't doing anything to help themselves. Hadn't they understood this whole concept? A bed had opened up because someone had died. Died. As in people died upstairs just as easily as downstairs. Stupid twits. Didn't they think at all?
     
    A transfer upstairs for them would be a waste.
     
    They weren't like her. She needed to do some serious thinking about the next step in her healing process. Sometimes, the days went by so fast, she had trouble keeping up. Probably her medication. Her old doctor had kept her so drugged out, no wonder she'd had trouble adjusting to the world around her.
     
    It was his fault, not hers.
     
    But he'd paid for that one.
     

***
    Adam Lenning lay still, frozen in his bed as the first morning light warmed his corner of the world. The nurses hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. He'd closed his eyes to appear asleep. It had fooled them but there was no fooling himself.
     
    He had seen something…wrong. Horribly wrong.
     
    Yet, he couldn't say exactly what he'd seen.
     
    The patient in the next bed had died last night. Adam knew the exact time. He'd been woken in the night by the cold. After growing up in Alaska, he understood cold. This part of Oregon did get chilly, except it was late summer, not the dead of winter. Last night, well, he'd have sworn the temperature on the floor was below freezing. Surely the furnace had quit unexpectedly? Although, given the time of year, there shouldn't have been the need for it in the first place. This eluded logic.
     
    He'd tried to snag the blanket at the foot of his bed to spread it over himself, only the shivers that wracked his frame had made that virtually impossible. It's when he'd been lying there, shivering, that he'd noticed the shadows through the curtains surrounding Jansen's bed at the end of the open area.
     
    Unlike the rest of The Haven, where you could barely walk for the people, Maddy's floor wasn't crowded. This floor didn't have private rooms, but each person had privacy through partial walls and curtains, making the areas individual, homey, yet accessible in an emergency.
     
    He liked it. The place offered companionship and medical care without cloistering each person in their own room for hours on end. There was room to walk and be social and yet, there was privacy.
     
    Footsteps